tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64508442024-03-13T12:43:02.270-04:00Roxy's WorldNon-stop action. Or, not.Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.comBlogger292125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-75683492916590928722012-09-06T12:24:00.001-04:002012-09-06T13:03:14.040-04:00TodayToday I'm so 10 years ago<br />
Running around free and wild, not caring about a future<br />
Traveling where I want to be and how I want to be -<br />
But that is just an illusion.<br />
Because there are dishes to do<br />
And things to care for<br />
And a life that is here <br />
Though I'm not sure quite how it happened.<br />
<br />
It's the bane of all bad poets, really.<br />
To grow up and do the right thing<br />
even though no one really knows<br />
what that right thing is.<br />
<br />
We all lay claim to it like we are people with purpose<br />
And not the smallest speck on the tiniest atom.<br />
<br />
Perhaps tomorrow I will be as I thought I was<br />
Unflinching<br />
Ready for a life that is not this life.<br />
One that knows<br />
That this small speck<br />
On the tiniest atom<br />
Means nothing and therefore<br />
Everything is possible.Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-51499482610021789872010-06-11T16:21:00.003-04:002010-06-11T16:38:31.799-04:00RevampingAbout to revamp, repost and rewrite some of the entries on this site. Missing the writing life a bit and am considering relaunch.<br /><br />Because seriously, I love talking about me.Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-21134407938217434412010-02-28T10:13:00.003-05:002010-02-28T10:33:45.363-05:00SpinningIn my dream last night, I was a ballet dancer.<br /><br />I entered the room - feet taped for spinning - and pirouetted to a slow, sweet song that I know now I invented. We had floor to ceiling windows and a different life in my dream. It was warm with no chance of snow.<br /><br /> Sometimes, when I'm in the phase where I'm sleeping more than spending the nights ticking off time in my head and hallucinating about work, I am treated to these visions that give me a different perspective of who I am and who I want to be. This has been happening a lot lately. I'm not sure if it is because my day life is so stressful, and so not where I thought I would be or if I'm about to undergo a renaissance of sorts and rebirth myself into a new life. <br /><br />To say that I am changing again would be trite because I have never stopped changing, just had pockets of time that stalled. What is difficult to know is that during these phases where I thought I still had time to reinvent myself I lost minutes that seeped into hours that changed into days that melted into years. <br /><br />And we all know how time passes - slowly in a blink of an eye. As days shift, I don't think about how I haven't been to Europe in 3 years or how the homeless man I saw on the beach in Ft. Lauderdale last week has a beautiful, sad perspective on the world. I think about meetings and deadlines and my next big mistake. I think about my vanity and how my house is a beautiful cold reflection of a life I'm trying to make perfect. In doing so, I have failed miserably.<br /><br />At the end of the day, I want to be consumed with the thought that I'm on my way to somewhere divine - maybe to Greece or to make the perfect egg sandwich for my lover or to my alternate life where I take the time to spin like a ballet dancer.Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-86890007871599723332008-07-03T00:55:00.004-04:002008-07-03T00:55:01.077-04:00More things to add to the 100...<a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Cdiv%3E%3Ca%20href=" com="" 2007="" 06="" html=""></a>What it would take to build a printer for the images in my head.<br />If it is truly gone this time, or if the worry will return.<br />Creativity.<br /><div>How the future looks.</div>When the answer comes.<br />Why Justin Timberlake thinks he's the only one <a href="http://shespeak.blogspot.com/2008/05/happy-birthday-roxy.html">bringing sexy back</a> (yeah).<br /><div>How many turning points are left.</div>When I'll get to Germany, NC, and Arizona to meet all the new little stars who have been born to my friends.<br />How never to have blisters again (aka, "Why high heels are so popular")<br /><div>Where my favorite pajama pants ended up.</div>If those little things are really big things.<br /><div>What the Meerkats are up to right now.</div>How to get rid of the memories of that damn book that plagues my soul.<br /><div>If you are still here with me.<br />If I'll even know when you're gone. </div>My direction.<br />If there is ever going to be something new under the sun, or if we've already invented it all.<br /><div>The true effect of all those germ killing soaps, sprays, and wipes.<br />Self appreciation.</div>If I'll ever get pregnant.<br /><div>How to celebrate more, and worry less.<br />If you were banging your head against the seat because of me, or because of you.<br />When you'll see that the drugs don't work.<br />How fast I could be at the beach if I left right now.<br />If Pat O'Brien will ever go back into <a href="http://stuckinrehabwithpatobrien.blogspot.com/">Rehab.</a><br />Why it isn't easy to give up those material things.<br />If Elvis needs a friend.<br />Forgiveness.</div>How to feel satisfied, but not complacent.<br /><div>What Harry Potter and Tony Soprano are doing.<br />If there comes a time in life when things just don't seem like a big deal anymore.</div><a href="http://images.google.com/images?um=1&hl=en&q=maldives+sunset">What sunset looks like in the Maldives</a> in person.<br />How to work my camera.<br /><div>When we'll laugh together again.<br />If it will make a damn bit of difference if I throw out every last piece of paper in my office without looking at it.<br />The way to motivate myself to get up in time for that middle of the night meteor shower.<br />How to cultivate a cohesive style.<br />If I'll ever have willpower.</div><div>Why you even emailed me.<br />Where the rewind button is.<br />If it was hard for you to become that cold and detached.<br />How to be a better manager - of people, of myself.<br />The way to cultivate a quiet mind.</div><div>How the Akumal turtles are faring.</div><div>Si voy a tener la convicción suficiente para dominar español.<br />What's out there. </div><div>How to celebrate me.<br />Why the phone didn't ring.<br />If I should stay or if I should go.</div><div>What my dog is trying to say.</div><div>In that time, when the bomb drops, if I'll walk toward the explosion like I planned or away from it.<br />When I got so serious.<br /></div><div></div><div></div>Buddhism.<br /><div>Adaptability.</div><div>How to compost.</div><div>Convincing German.<br />How Mamma and Gram enjoyed Rob's wedding.<br />When my brother and sister in law will spawn a niece or nephew for me to adore.<br />Who let the dogs out.<br />If I'll cave to pressure for plastic surgery when I'm older.<br />How the patterns are woven into sea coral.<br />What the psychic will say.<br />When I'll make the time.<br />If I should redecorate in a goth theme. (not)<br />Simple beauty.<br />If I can make it for 3 days <a href="http://shespeak.blogspot.com/2008/05/breast-cancer-3-day.html">like Remi is doing.</a><br />If my neighbors can see me when I'm dancing around my house.<br />Why the hell you just stopped talking to me.<br />How many Mardi Gras beads I have in my bag.<br />The Northern Lights - and if they'll wave to me when I visit.<br />Why we can't figure out universal healthcare.<br />If I should patent bubble wrap as a therapeutic technique.<br />How to throw pottery.<br />If I'll ever get pictures from my wedding printed.<br />Who will wise up and stop killing the desert?<br />If we'll wise up and stop polluting our world.<br />What a balanced budget (my own) feels like.<br />Why winter feels so long, and summer so short.<br />How to pick the perfect cantaloupe.<br />Why time marches on.<br />Where my sense of adventure ventured to.<br />A brand new song.<br /><br /><br /></div>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-91889804755094264382008-04-20T16:29:00.003-04:002008-04-20T16:37:32.789-04:00TurtlingIt was gorgeous there.<br /><br />I thought I would be knee deep in crystalline waters, but didn't realize how much it would feel like home. <br /><br />That forever sky - azure, for sure - can't remember the last time I saw so much horizon.<br /><br />Virginia is beautiful. Trees and hues of greens from olive to near sunlight. But those trees and the thick overgrowth of spring block the view of the long thin line of the horizon. <br /><br />On the beaches of Akumal, we watched the sea turtles as they came in to make the next generation. The clouds moved rapidly across the ocean, forming and disappearing within minutes. I brought books, magazines, journals, but spent most of the time just staring. The intricate moves of waves, swirling water, jumbled coral nesting in the sand, the backs of fishing boats.<br /><br />I swear the horizon was silver - then blue - then gold...<br /><br />I just needed to see past myself again to realize that I am not the big picture.Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-83755421663335417292008-02-29T18:52:00.005-05:002008-03-02T15:05:07.081-05:00Chain of LoveI am obsessive.<br /><br />This is something I have always known about myself but probably wouldn't change even if I could.<br /><br />Right now, I am totally obsessing and head over heels for - horror of horrors - <em>a chain restaurant</em>.<br /><br />YIKES.<br /><br />I frequent mom-and-pops and local joints all the time and can't stand "THE MAN" and the culture of suburban hell with a Best Buy-Olive Garden-Wal-Mart-McDonald's-Home Depot-Chili's-Kohl's-Applebee's-Lowe's-Costco-Starbucks-Border's-Mega Mall on every single crowded corner.<br /><br />But there is an exception to my rule right now (aside from Target - I just <em>can't help myself</em>, I will <em>always</em> write love letters with hearts and stars and offers of my body to the Tar-jay).<br /><br />My new obsession? <a href="http://www.noodles.com/">Noodles & Company</a>.<br /><br />Maybe it's because I'm doing Weight Watchers and most of the N&C menu is WW friendly.<br /><br />Maybe it's their cute website filled with broccoli trees in Penne Park .<br /><br />Maybe I just heart the fact that today I had a tomato that was actually red, tender, juicy and didn't taste like pesticide on my crisp cucumber and romaine salad as part of my Bangkok Curry Trio. My lunch - for less than $8- was fantastic and<em> made me moan</em> in my seat with the way that the cool coconut flavor lightly accented the flash-seared crisp carrots and garlicky chicken. All for less calories and fat than a small box of beak nuggets and a coke from the hellish McGross.<br /><br />Whatever it is that is so enchanting about Noodles, I may never know.<br /><br />But I do know, Noodles & Company, that I am completely smitten with you and don't want to hide my affections any longer.<br /><br />And the only chain I think of when I think of you is the invisible chain that you have firmly clasped around my heart.Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-51949039583603949142008-02-12T14:00:00.000-05:002008-02-12T14:02:28.542-05:00Assistance, please?I need an assistant.<br /><br />There are way too many things going on right now and I think that the only way to help myself is to get an assistant to organize everything.<br /><br />I'm going to start by giving two of my students some things to do to help me out.<br /><br />Perhaps by the end of the week, I'll have minions.Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-16601969658355718922008-02-08T10:57:00.000-05:002008-02-08T11:44:20.999-05:00Stumble you might fallI hung up on myself.<br /><br />Really, that is what it boils down to.<br /><br />I stopped listening - slammed down the phone. And when I tried to dial back in, there wasn't a dial tone.<br /><br />I just didn't want to hear the things that needed to be heard. I've been disconnected - out of my own loop of who I really think I am and who I want to be. So I gave up.<br /><br />And I didn't think that was right for being in my 30's. Because you know, when you're 32 you should have every single thing figured out and know how to deal.<br /><br />So I talked to Jodisattva. And she's been feeling the same way.<br /><br />And I don't want to speak for her, but I feel a little more connected now that I know I'm not the only one out here on the other end of the telephone line. In fact, I'm willing to wager that there's a group of us standing in the middle of a forest on an alternate plane and we're all gripping the black handset of an old-style telephone, staring at a snaking cable that's sheared off not 5 feet from us. We're all yelling about not being tied to something. And in that space of panic, we're not willing to look around and realize that there are others stranded with us. That maybe we should shut up and collectively think about why we're in this space - and explore a little.<br /><br />That being said, I'm ready to look around. Maybe take a little hike with my friend Jodisattva and figure out what this terrain is - and what we are going to do while we're here. Disconnected from where we think we should be. Unplugged from who we know we are.Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-84306545983430281132008-01-31T21:25:00.000-05:002008-01-31T19:33:16.455-05:00MistakeI had insatiable passion.<br /><br />I was writer, dancer, creator, singer, performer - a drama maker - the spotlight queen! That was me.<br /><br />For some time now, I've felt dead. Just detached and sad and depressed. I don't keep in touch with friends - I've let things fall behind. I've fallen.<br /><br />And I haven't cared at all.<br /><br />Lately though, I've felt a spark.<br /><br />At times it scares the crap out of me because I'm not sure what to do with it. I don't even feel like I'm good enough to have it, but it is hot and fast and moves from the recesses of my brain into my gut. Trying to supress it makes me want to vomit. I don't sleep, my mind is going going going turning like a turbine ready to spark some fantastic machine that will launch me to something great and fulfilling and worth my time. And I know if I let this spark flicker too long without lighting something bigger than me it will fade and sputter out.<br /><br />I remember this feeling. Like I'm going to explode, like I'm running so fast my heart breaks through my skin, like someone turned on the light and illuminated every mystery of the world. I used to have it all the time. Back then I couldn't control it - and didn't want to. I didn't know how to harness my power and self-destructed over and over again. And loved and loathed every single minute of it.<br /><br />At some point - and I can pinpoint the time nearly to the second but am not going to tell you - I guess I just succumbed to the "supposed to" world. And the second I did I lost everything that was magical and wonderful about me.<br /><br />There was a time that I was a firework - sparkly, bright and inspiring. Nothing and everything mattered at the same time. I was fiercely fantastic and dangerously loyal and just so into living life instead of being complacent and settled.<br /><br />God I hope I'm here again. I want to be that me again.Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-45974175778147084732007-11-19T17:30:00.000-05:002007-11-19T14:30:43.776-05:00The giblets came flying out on the approach!There is just something about chucking a 15 pound frozen turkey down a 25' linoleum hallway to knock over a bunch of pins.<br /><br />It is especially satisfying when it smacks against the overturned table against the wall and juices spurt out of the end.Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-1266957629788091932007-09-16T11:59:00.000-04:002007-09-17T18:51:46.539-04:00what i did last weekendi'd never seen a lavender moon<br />except for in my dreams.<br /><br />but there it was,<br />escaping sunset and changing<br />its face<br />through pink and purple hues<br />in rapid, short, gasps -<br />hanging low over the outer banks<br />basking in the north carolina wind<br />caught between blades<br />of swaying beach grass<br />above the cool, shell shocked sand.<br /><br />it climbed high into the<br />peach fuzz clouds<br />battling with the ever darkening blues of dusk<br />to be the most arresting view in the sky.<br /><br />and as night fell dark and warm -<br />wrapped in stars and satellites -<br />the moon completed its cycle of color<br />and changed back to its flat face<br />of bone and teeth.<br /><br />at peace.Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-27201332694382982007-09-11T22:40:00.000-04:002007-09-11T19:00:53.514-04:00In the cool humid morning, traffic backed up as usual. The same commuters who drive I-95 each day still left way too many car lengths between bumpers and slammed on brakes to switch lanes. NPR blabbed Petraeus. We talked about it being a harsh winter.<br /><br />I thought of the things I had to do today and played with ideas for my novel. And as I crested over the hill on 395 on my way to work, the Pentagon in front of me put things into perspective.<br /><br />Six years ago today, in the same hour as I was arriving to work this morning, freedom in America adopted an eerie new feeling.<br /><br />There are points in our lives that we all remember. In the days, hours, and months after the attacks when the phrase "nine-eleven" became a rallying cry and we briefly united as a people, one of the most significant things I remember is that the feeling of safety I once enjoyed was never going to be present again.<br /><br />And the worse realization for me was that many people in the world had never felt safe at all.<br /><br />And I was ashamed to be so lucky.Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-23208856849506504582007-08-22T21:08:00.000-04:002007-08-22T21:27:34.967-04:00Maybe Rove will go that way too...Roxy has been out and about in the sweet backroads of Virginny and feels compelled to post a bit of news that she learned about one Mr. Jerry Falwell, the leader of the Morally Bankrupt.<br /><br />It seems to be a confirmed fact* that Mr. Falwell's death wasn't reported 100% accurately. <br /><br />While I must say it pains me to tell y'all that <a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=10188427">NPR was wrong</a>, I am abso-posi-fucking-lutely happy as a redneck watching Nascar to inform you that Jerry Falwell did not die in his office at Liberty University as reported.<br /><br />Your pal Roxy, while doing field research in Lynchburg, Virginia this past weekend, discovered that the Fartwell went out just like <a href="http://www.blurtit.com/q439227.html">the King</a>.<br /><br />That's right folks, Jerry died on the shitter.<br /><br />Which is so apropos since it really doesn't matter where he was - in the office or on the john - he was definitely full of shit.<br /><br />And that is reason enough to resume posting on my blog.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">*Fact confirmed in a bar by a reliable source who confirmed with EMT's on the scene.</span>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-79721720727484518062007-08-12T10:56:00.000-04:002007-08-22T21:08:25.354-04:00HiatusRoxy is taking a hiatus from her blog because she is worn out, spent, has no creativity and in general is pretty much bored with life.<br /><br />And so I sign off, in typical yearbook fashion,<br /><br />Enjoy your summer! Stay sweet! Don't ever change! K.I.T!Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-5759462307252899282007-08-06T00:23:00.000-04:002007-08-05T21:26:37.237-04:00I do declare!Why <a href="http://www.ci.chapel-hill.nc.us/">Chapel Hill</a>, you're as refreshing as a cool glass of tea on a hot August night. In fact, if I didn't know better, I'd have thought you were trying to woo me away from your sultry cousin Virginia.<br /><br />Despite my hatred of North Carolina (on par with my feelings about New Jersey), I must say I'm simply delighted to be staying at the <a href="http://www.carolinainn.com/">Carolina Inn</a> at UNC Chapel Hill with its <a href="http://www.carolinainn.com/our_inn.htm">richly appointed entrance, lovely grounds, elegant sunroom</a>, and delectable <a href="http://www.carolinainn.com/dining.htm">four-star fare</a>. What a charming seductress of a town, all cafes and college cottages tucked between flowering butterfly trees and long slips of brick pathways. I'm simply mesmerized at the enchanting atmosphere of the places I've seen so far: <a href="http://museum.unc.edu/exhibits.html?tab=Exhibits">UNC</a> (I linked their awesome "Virtual Musuem of Univeristy History" - check it out), <a href="http://chapel.hill.vespasta.com/">Vespa Cibobuono</a>, and <a href="http://www.consultwebs.com/ncphotos/chapel_hill.htm">Franklin Street</a>.<br /><br />I'm half tempted to take back <a href="http://roxynelvis.blogspot.com/2007/05/north-carolina-is-armpit-of-america.html">what I said</a> about this state earlier this year.<br /><br />Then again, even though you did <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chapel_Hill,_North_Carolina">launch such fine acts</a> as The Squirrel Nut Zippers, Ben Folds Five, James Taylor, and those fine hunks of redneck rockabilly Southern Culture on the Skids, (and soccer great Mia Hamm), I don't think I'm prepared to love you as a whole entity just yet.<br /><br />We'll see what happens next month when I come here again.Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-48324035927911171562007-08-01T00:35:00.000-04:002007-08-04T10:26:30.248-04:00Forget the taming mousse, I'm shaving my headIt is so humid here.<br /><br />I was deceptively lulled into believing that our East Coast summer was going to be all breezes and butterflies.<br /><br />Apparently not.<br /><br />When I left the house this morning, I caught my reflection in a window. With my unruly, curly hair running wild on top and the kitten heeled peep-toes adorning my feet, I could have been mistaken for a Jersey whore.<br /><br />Thankfully I don't have 2 inch bloodred fingernails with little rhinestone designs. I'm sure that's the only thing that kept the guy outside the Metro from offering me $50 and a good time.Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-27968797687172478812007-07-20T06:00:00.000-04:002007-07-27T20:12:49.572-04:00A fairytale for people with trees in their belly at 3:00AMOnce upon a time, there lived a girl who had a tree living inside her belly.<br /><br />It wasn't an ordinary tree grown from a wayward pit or carefully sewn seed; in fact, the girl didn't knowingly plant the tree at all. She didn't remember how it got there - just realized it was there one day even though no one else could see it. And while the girl never asked for a tree to grow inside of her, she knew that it was very important that she care for it for all of her days.<br /><br />Even though she didn't have an instruction manual for her tree, the girl could sense it was flourishing inside. Her healthy tree was any number of rainbow bright colors - sometimes a daring pink or converging shades of orange and yellow. When the girl was content, new green leaves festooned twisting silver and gold branches and a royal purple trunk. And when she was excited, the leaves changed colors and sparkled as if lit from within. Even better, when she felt really happy, the tree sometimes curled up its roots inside itself and flew through her, a cool soulful wind blowing through its long-leaf hair.<br /><br />But the girl knew that her tree wasn't always healthy. She felt it one Saturday afternoon when nothing seemed right with the world and she didn't know what to do. She began to sense the change in her leaves almost immediately - the tendrils curled and turned a muddy green and the branches cracked, slightly brittle. Her mouth had the distinct taste of Brussels sprouts mixed with tar. In that moment, the girl learned that no amount of water or food could feed the roots or nurture flowering bulbs on the delicate branches. Her thoughts and moods alone were responsible for growing a proper and brilliant tree.<br /><br />Most days, the girl only thought of the tree in her belly once or twice. She listened to the leaves rustle in the wind of her soul and learned from them - heeding their warnings and celebrating the little things that made life so wonderful. The tree rooted itself deeper and deeper and got bigger and bigger with time. She never worried about it getting too big because it became part of her core and backbone. And it was beautiful. The strong clear trunk supported long limber twists of branch covered with thousands of different colored leaves in hundreds of textures. Before long, the girl didn't know where the tree ended and she began. She wondered if other people had trees in their bellies too.<br /><br />So she went on her merry way in life, dancing around the world and thinking of trees and dreams. Occasionally though, she forgot peek inside to check and feed her tree.<br /><br />And then one day the girl woke with a start. The clock on her bedside table read 3AM and she tasted tar and Brussels sprouts and fear in the back of her throat. She knew her tree was dying. The branches were black and brittle, turning to ash, and the crisp brown leaves scattered the floor of her stomach. She couldn't feel her roots in that moment, but sensed that they were somewhere uncovered and exposed to harsh thoughts and wilting dreams.<br /><br />And the wind was so quiet it scared her.<br /><br />She sat straight up in the darkest part of the darkest night and cried. She howled for the impending loss of her tree. She screamed on the inside. Why hadn't she paid more attention to those strong roots, the delicate branches? Anger, frustration, uncertainty, and fear poured out of her through Brussles sprout tasting tears. Her stomach churned. She was hopelessly lost.<br /><br />When she finally stopped crying, her body felt bruised and broken. She felt as if she'd never feel safe and whole again. She laid back down as the clock silently turned to 4AM.<br /><br />As she lay there in the dark willing sleep to come and deliver her from sadness, she felt an odd stirring in her belly. She inhaled sharply. Was that the end? Was it gone?<br /><br />The stirring continued.<br /><br />A single, yellow-green leaf sprouted from a tiny branch toward the bottom of the tree in her belly. And in that instant, she felt thick roots grasp her tight as the wind of her soul began to whisper to her softly.Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-37896840804533685132007-07-11T03:45:00.000-04:002007-07-11T01:01:13.570-04:00All in all, it's really cool to be me right now...(aka I think I've had too much wine)It is the end of Day Two.<br /><br />I have vascillated on what to do with my entire career - am I excited? Should I quit because I'm overwhelmed? Should I dive in even though I don't know what the hell I'm doing? I'm riding the roller coaster -wanting to quit my job seconds after thinking I have the best opportunity in the world.<br /><br />I've met 20 new people, helped finish 6 bottles of wine, and obtained 3 new hefty promotion prospects.<br /><br />I love conferences.<br /><br />The only thing that would be cooler is if this meeting was in San Diego or Vegas instead of Chicago.Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-82861575202580282032007-07-06T04:04:00.000-04:002007-07-08T11:39:04.601-04:00Fireworks, anyone?<div>The evening started - and ended - with a bang.<br /><br />We show up with sparklers and fireworks, ready to catch up with old friends over charred meat and drunken strawberry Jello.<br /><br />Ginger needs help, so we arrive early to hoist bags of melting ice; toss the cold, crisp broccoli salad; artfully carve a watermelon; and manifest an outdoor, mosquito-netted harem room which serves more as a love nest for mosquitoes than it does for party goers.<br /><br />Bill arrives early, inquires whether or not we had brought the pictures of his naked ass from New Years Eve, and then leaves again to retrieve Kelly Commander - our resident party girl and flasher-of-the-boobies. Later, it doesn't take long for the entire party to weigh in on an over/under bet on when she would peek first. <span style="font-style: italic;">(Before midnight, after 10; SCORE!)</span><br /><br />Ginger and I suck down a Jello shot, then two more. As I'm slurping the third, there's a knock at the door. I throw it open. The Three Wiseasses appear bearing gifts of beer, sarcasm, and stories of years I've long forgotten.<br /><br />"Hey, Roxy! Last time I saw you, you were drunk on a bar at Awful Arthurs downtown!" McLeary bellows. "That was the first time I sang karaoke too - I sucked."<br /><br />I laugh. "Didn't you also flash us your penis?"<br /><br />"Yep! If you're lucky, you'll see it again tonight." McLeary takes the cooler to the kitchen, making way for the Second Coming.<br /><br />"Oh, shit folks, she's back. Long time no see."<br /><br />"Hey Scotty-karate. Been in Arizona for three years - that's why."<br /><br />"Been that long? Damn."<br /><br />I move away from the door, not recognizing the guy bringing up the rear.<br /><br />"Hey!"<br /><br />I turn around. <span style="font-style: italic;"> Oh shit</span>.<br /><br />"I haven't seen you in forever, Roxy! I never thought... well, you know... um, I'd see you again. You back? For good now?" His face lights up like an exploding firework. I know what he's thinking.<br /><br />"Hey, T. Yeah."<br /><br />I see my husband come in from the porch as T moves in. "T, this is my husband. Husband, this is T."<br /><br />T eyes me, eyes my husband. After a quick hesitation, T pulls it together and shakes Kevin's outstretched hand.<br /><br />I think about the last time I saw T - two nights before I moved to Arizona, illegally skinny dipping in the pool after hours. I blush with what I remember.<br /><br />Ginger laughs, hands me another Jello shot. The awkwardness is over.<br /><br />We spend the rest of the evening languishing in the retreat of the usually humid East Coast July - wholly succumbed to the cool summer night. The hours pass- wrapping us in the rich smells of citronella, barbeque sauce, and roasting marshmallows.<br /><br />I see people I haven't seen in months, years. My brother and future sister-in-law are there too - and they know most everyone from their bar. We laugh and talk, mingle from group to group, everyone switching locations and people as if performing an elaborate ballroom dance. My husband hears stories that I had forgotten. He laughs at the end of one and says he knew what he was getting into when he married me, and that life will never be boring.<br /><br />We eat ice cream cake and light homegrown fireworks in the backyard. Flashes of green and silver ignite the evening. Sparklers pop and sizzle in our outstretched hands. I pause to look around at the illuminated faces.<br /><br />It is so damn good to feel like I'm home.</div><div> </div><div> </div><br /><div> </div>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-5499527968388457782007-07-02T06:37:00.000-04:002007-07-02T12:47:00.529-04:00I'm doing just fine...Haiku?Such an open joy!<br />A full, orange moon in July<br />Makes me possible.Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-22709151946407676262007-06-25T07:35:00.000-04:002007-06-25T17:12:41.405-04:00Candlebox and Contact Highs...I wasn't even out of grade school the first time someone accused me of living in the past. <br /><br />It was the last day of sixth grade and I was going to be leaving the private school I had attended my entire life to go to a public junior high school so I could "make friends closer to home" before high school. I was weepy and melodramtic at the end of the warm May day (I know, me melodramatic? Never...), and many of my friends spent their time telling me it would all be ok.<br /><br />And then this boy - this boy I thought I hated - told me that I should let go of the past, not try to hold onto it. I emphatically denied his allegation and I told him that I wouldn't miss him, even though I knew I would.<br /><br />I had just turned 11 years old and this little punk made an observation about me that is true to this day - and I was in my late 20's before I realized it for myself.<br /><br />I'm obsessed with the concept of time - planning for the future, revisiting the past, trying to eek out the seconds as they tick away on the clock. And I still miss moments that I wouldn't bring back if I could. <br /><br />Maybe it's because I'm getting older and I want to relive certain moments. I know, that's why we have reunions and hang on to people and places...<br /><br />Maybe it's a coping mechanism - nothing's happening right now (or something crappy is happening), so I'll think about something that was thrilling or someplace else I'd rather be. <br /><br />Maybe I should stop spouting the psychoanalyst bullshit and focus on the topic at hand:<br /><br />Mandatory Wild Turkey Shots.<br /><br />Yes, required snuffs of sweet rich liquor on a hot Arizona summer evening in 1994. Well, either 94 or 95, since neither <a href="http://shespeak.blogspot.com/">Remi</a> nor I were old enough to buy liquor on our own.<br /><br />We had decided to go see Eddie Money & Candlebox in concert at Westworld of Scotsdale when we were both home from college. It was hot - probably June since we hadn't yet had enough of the summer sizzling to keep us from being outdoors.<br /><br />The group of concert goers consisted of me, Remi, Remi's brother and all his soccer friends (one of which both Remi and I had a crush on in high school). We met at the house the guys shared before the concert to caravan because it was the safe thing to do.<br /><br />Well, ok, we met there to drink first.<br /><br />The guys had a rule, every time someone entered the house that person was required to take a shot of Wild Turkey. Keeping with this line of thought, the rule soon evolved to include people leaving or entering the house from any one of the numerous doors around the spacious living room.<br /><br />We managed to keep it together enough to drive to the concert venue - at least a 90 minute trip without traffic.<br /><br />Upon arrival at Westworld, Remi's brother issued a blanket statement to the guys that they would NOT be getting us drunk. Naturally, no one listened and before the first band left the stage we were obnoxiously drunk, drinking out of any and all of the strewn beer and liquor cups throughout the group, shooting Wild Turkey from hidden flasks and leaning into the circles of people passing joints so we could get a contact high.<br /><br />I distinctly remember Remi looking at me at one point and telling me she had to pee after Candlebox had finished their set and we were hoarse from scream-singing and jumping around. The problem? We were sitting at the top of the hill overlooking the pavilion and the port-o-jons were at the bottom of said hill. Guzzling down the last of the cups, we forged ahead (sending EC, the one we crushed on in HS for more beer for us) and rolled down the hill. I don't remember climbing back up, but we must have because I remember Eddie Money taking the stage as the evening turned cool and Remi's brother yelled to everyone that we were "CUT OFF!" (while we laughed).<br /><br />I only remember snippets of the evening from that point on. Eddie Money did an entire set in what seemed like 2.5 minutes and then we were hurdling down the hill toward the parking lot. Somehow, we convinced them that Remi was sober enough to drive home. We made it out of the lot and to the nearest gas station to pee and surprisingly didn't get arrested in the convenience store for drunk and disorderly conduct.<br /><br />And do you know why this story is relevant to the beginning of the post?<br /><br />Just like Eddie Money sang that night, "I wanna go back, and do it all over but I can't go back, I know."<br /><br />And while I still wonder how we got home that night (since both of us blacked out after the gas station and woke up the next morning at our respective houses), that isn't the main reason I want to go back.<br /><br />There are just moments in life when the bigger picture doesn't matter - when there is nothing outside that moment, when all that matters is what is happening in that second - not what has passed, nor what is to come. And there is peace in not giving a damn about anything else for that brief time except the feeling of being there, caught up in something that will never happen again.<br /><br />And then we spend our lives trying to cultivate that feeling because really, isn't that the point of life?Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-29272107423135837092007-06-23T15:58:00.000-04:002007-06-23T16:03:03.560-04:00NC-30Actually, this blog is rated:<br /><br /><a href="http://mingle2.com/blog-rating"><img style="border: none;" src="http://mingle2.com/img/bb/blog_rating/nc-17.jpg" alt="Online Dating" /></a><p>Site for</sup> - <a href="http://mingle2.com">Rating</a></p><br /><br />This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:<br /><br /> * sex (5x)<br /> * ass (4x)<br /> * fucking (3x)<br /> * shit (2x)<br /> * piss (1x)<br /><br />I'm fucking pissed that fucking was only referenced 3 times.<br /><br />And I definitely need more sex...Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-60317360381673801512007-06-21T20:16:00.000-04:002007-06-21T17:21:19.973-04:00TGIFNo, not Friday.<br /><br />Finals.<br /><br />Tonight is the final for the English class I'm teaching.<br /><br />Which means I'm class-free* for TWO WHOLE WEEKS.<br /><br />Not that I didn't love my class - my students were great and it was probably the best college course I've ever taught.<br /><br />But I'm tired and glad it's over.<br /><br /><br /><br /><em>*Class-free doesn't mean classless, which is usually the case.</em>Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-32380600627977692712007-06-20T22:48:00.000-04:002007-06-20T12:07:32.660-04:00And the President too...<strong>If you were me, you wouldn't like...</strong><br /><br />Presidential motorcades that stop rush hour commute.<br /><br />Living in Northern VA. <br /><br />Pretty much everything in the <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/">news</a>.<br /><br />Being so far away - from friends, from Paris, from where I want to be.<br /><br />The <a href="http://www.savedarfur.org/pages/background">terrible</a> <a href="http://www.scoop.co.nz/stories/WO0706/S00218.htm">things</a> <a href="http://english.vietnamnet.vn/international/2007/06/708654/">we</a> <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/6221112.stm">do</a> to eachother.<br /><br />No Child Left Behind, and how we educate our children.<br /><br />Spam - email and original.<br /><br />Reality TV - except for Dog the Bounty Hunter. (yes, you may mock me)<br /><br />Me.<br /><br />Fou-fou drinks, unless it is a godiva martini.<br /><br />Bad customer service.<br /><br />That we live to work, work to live.<br /><br />That the <a href="http://roxynelvis.blogspot.com/2005/05/wasted-space.html">desert</a> is <a href="http://roxynelvis.blogspot.com/2006/06/home.html">disappearing</a>.<br /><br />Nasty lyrics on ringback tones when I'm calling you about a job offer.Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450844.post-61101361412242450892007-06-16T00:31:00.000-04:002007-06-15T12:39:29.353-04:00FinetuneJeremy turned me on to this awesome site where you can build a playlist and then listen to the music you just picked.<br /><br />You can visit my page <a href="http://www.finetune.com/user/Roxynelvis">here</a>.<br /><br />or use the control below to listen to my picks:<br /><br /><embed src="http://www.finetune.com/player/FineTuneShell.swf?pinst=52EBDAD0CDD94E7CAC9EF5BE50041342" quality="high" flashVars="pinst=52EBDAD0CDD94E7CAC9EF5BE50041342" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="215" height="220"></embed><br /><br />Go make your own playlist too - and add me as a friend dammit - so I can listen to yours!Roxyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18445054319661953959noreply@blogger.com0