"Freedom of" includes all...

It's about time!

A is for Asshole

Last night, we were in a very cute little restaurant in Shirlington drinking margaritas and laughing at life. I was about halfway through my on-the-rocks big gulp when a couple with a small child (2, maybe 2 1/2) sat down next to us. I may sound critical, but these were some annoying yuppy parents. Perfectly coiffed and dressed, trendy bags and accessories, with a kid who looked like she stepped out of a catalog. And each time the girl made a noise - not a yell or a scream or even a sound of displeasure - the parents would try to distract her using too-loud voices and high pitched sing-songs. At one point, the mother whipped out her copy of "A is for Apple, B is for Banana" and began to read at the top of her lungs. The child looked disinterested and played with the food in front of her and the father gulped his margarita like he was dying in a desert.

To amuse ourselves, we came up with our own A, B, C, for any yuppy parent (or alcoholic).

A is for Amaretto Sour (or Apple Martini if you are a 20-something mom)
B is for Bacardi
C is for Carbomb
D is for Dirty Martini
E is for Extra Dirty Martini (mmm)
F is for Frangelico
G is for Goldschlager (or Glenfiddich for dads that knocked up their third wives)
H is for Hypnotic
I is for Island Punch
J is for Jaegermeister
K is for Ketel One (my fave)
L is for Limoncello (for the well traveled yuppy) or Long Island Ice Tea
M is for Margarita (make me another)
N is for Nipple Shots (for the nights when you leave the kids at home)
O is for Oatmeal Cookie shots
P is for Pina Colada (and getting caught in the rain)
Q is for Quaalude (the shot, not the pill...)
R is for Rum
S is for Sex on the Beach
T is for To Go, Please
U is for U come here often? (for divorced yuppy parents)
V is for Virgin
W is for Why is Mommy passed out on the couch?
X is for Xerox your ass on the copier - you know you've done it before...
Y is for You drunk ass
and Z is for zzzzzzzzz

we are heartbroken in the wake of tragedy

Hey Roxanne,

Thank you for the e-mail. It has been difficult. Luckily, Jon is okay and all of our friends and my students (I teach ESL at Tech's Open University for the YMCA in a building behind Norris Hall) are okay. It is pretty scary to teach kids who can have severe reactions and who want to copy criminals at this time... but we are slowily moving forward. We went to the candleight vigil last night, and I think that really helped Jon. His classes are cancelled.

What the media isn't reporting is that this was right before finals, and there are a lot of students (Med and Veterinarian students especially) who are really under a heap of pressure with so much chaos, because a failing grade means you're out. It took them two days to get the reorganization of the school schedule explained to everyone, but they have been very caring and have been incredibly fair in dealing with this.

I wish the media would also note that there has never been a case where someone did a small scale shooting like that and then went on such a rampage... there was no way for the Administrators to adjust in a more timely fashion. It is just so devastating.

The media presence has been incredible... I just hope they can remember to be kind in the end. The President lost his co-workers, too... and he doesn't get to take time off to deal with his grief with all of this intense scrutiny... Anyway... it is just so overwhelming... we'll just have to find a way to try to be kind and understanding during this time, and to understand that anger of the families is natural and not an indicator that something actually was done wrong.

I was really mad in the beginning, because we were home... Jon was home and safe when it began, but he had gone to school by the time the second shooting was started. I was really upset, but when I look at the timeline that was provided and think about the logistics... they had less than 30 mintues for a meeting of 10 people to come to a concensus about what should be done... they thought they had the guy.... I can't imagine how they would have done differently given the way the campus is set up. There just wasn't any way they could have guessed.

I hope you and your husband are doing well, and are safe.
Beth

and now we wait for the oops

3 months ago
roxy: let's have a baby. you know, a little of you and a little of me all mushed together?
roxy's husband: no baby. well, maybe in 2020.
roxy: my eggs are shriveling.
husband: then we'll build it in a test tube in 2020.

a week ago
husband: let's have a baby.
roxy: no.
husband: i'm ready now.
roxy: you do realize it's first word will either be "fuck" or "martini," right?
husband: no, it'll be "playstation."
roxy: this is exactly why we shouldn't have children.

last night
husband: i want a little person.
roxy: a little person?
husband: a baby.
roxy: crap.
husband: no a baby.
roxy: you do realize that while I may talk tough, i really will be the most conservative and overbearing mother alive, right?
husband: yes.
roxy: ok.

a girl in a hotel bar

ignoring the slip of doubt in my throat i order the dirty martini to chase down two extra strength advil. my head throbs a staccato melody - a fireworks explosion after shotgun bursts in my tender brain.

i suck on an olive, tease the pimento out with my tongue.

the bartender asks me if i'm here on vacation. i shake my head. the smooth surface of the pimento glides a salty trail along the roof of my mouth. sharp liquid swells over my lips. i play with it before swallowing. my entire drink becomes an event - tip, swirl, coax, twirl, slide sweetly down. i'm having sex with icy vodka.

fox news is reporting the father of anna nicole's baby. i'm sickened by the media attention, the display, but i continue to stare at the tv. i'm not the person i used to be.

if i was another me, i'd talk to the bartender, the person deliberately sitting too close to me making loud comments and staring at me out of the corner of his eye. tonight, i ignore both.

the bartender refills my water. everything ok there, honey? i nod. how's your headache? fine, thank you.

i scribble words on a cocktail napkin.

animosity
thirsty
ostentatious
purpose
self
synthesis

the guy next to me laughs, tries to draw me into conversation.

it occurs to me that i never was an extrovert - my outgoing nature a grand performance with props and costumes. more often than not now i'm introverted - more true to myself, sometimes akward to others. i simply don't need approval, and don't desire small talk.

time is too important and i just want another fucking martini.

The next time I feel dumb,

I will think of this clip below and realize that - even if i never learn another thing for the next 50 years - I will never be as dumb as this guy or the people who believe this:

Freak clip

What a load of shit. Peanut butter as a baseline for the theory that evolution doesn't exist? Maybe he is using it as an example of what is in his head. At least if it was crunchy I'd hope there were some chunks of knowledge.

Peanut butter is manufactured! It doesn't sit around for billions of years waiting to morph into something else! It is MAN-MADE you idiot! Oh crap. I think I've got it. People are man-made too! Well, there's an obvious connection. And when we arrive in our freshly sealed packages with preservative chemicals it is proof that we couldn't have evolved from anything!

I guess proof that evolution doesn't exist can be found in this clip. It is proof that this man's brain hasn't evolved past three year old logic. I'm sure that's god's fault too.

epiphany

I'm finding it increasingly alarming that I do not want to have a place in today's mainstream workforce. I'm an intelligent individual with a varied background, a Masters degree and creative tendencies. I like to play with the team, plan and execute projects, teach classes and help those around me. I just don't want to spend the majority of my time on office politics, sweating the small stuff and doing work that doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. I don't feel like I'm a valid member of society anymore.

A few years ago, I quit the corporate world to teach high school in an "at-risk" area. At times, I felt like I was wasting time there too. That I can't do enough to help. That there are so many people who need things and I could do more. We all could do more.

Why can't I spend 12 hours a day (which is what I currently spend, including my commute - 15 hours on the days I teach class) working on something that may help someone in the long run? And I mean the full 12 hours - not 30 minutes here or an hour or so there.

In a country where church, state, media, and neighbors judge morals and perceived personal values, why doesn't our society embrace cooperation, assistance and helping eachother?

And since I'm not stupid, I do know why - money and control.

And while none of this is an epiphany, the title of this post is an invitation for what I most need. I need an epiphany, a cosmic slap to the face so I can begin to carve the path for something different, something risky.

"It seems to me that people have vast potential.
Most people can do extraordinary things
if they have the confidence or take the risks.
Yet most people don't.
They sit in front of the telly and treat life as if it goes on forever."

- Phillip Adams

And I guess a little confidence wouldn't hurt either...

Not like Monica...

I'm kicked back reading the latest issue of my Cigar Aficionado magazine puffing on a mellow Romeo Y Julieta Reserva Real and drinking an olive-sullied Ketel One up when it occurs to me that Easter Sunday is only 11 full days away.

The day of His triumphant return, the day His Resurrection will occur. And then, in a few short months, Tony will be out of my life.

You didn't seriously think I was talking about Jesus, did you? Vaffanculo, I don't think so.

And, ok, I don't smoke cigars. But I did buy this months Aficionado - have you seen the cover? Madon'! Delicious.

There are way too many endings this year. Tony. Harry. Johnny. I may have to kill myself.

Then again, I'd miss the only ending I'm looking forward to - the one that occurs in 2009.

Check!

Today, I feel
__x__ Surly
__x__ Overwhelmed
__x__ Like nothing will ever be happy again

I will most likely:
__x__ Rethink Life
__x__ Drink
__x__ Snap
__x__ Get counseling

Tonight, I need a:
__x__ Drink
__x__ Miracle
__x__ Sedative
__x__ Swift kick in the head

You can help by:
__x__ Being supportive
__x__ Cutting me some slack and not expecting anything from me anytime soon
__x__ Shutting the hell up
__x__ Booking me on a flight to Tahiti

Tomorrow, I hope to:
__x__ Forget today
__x__ Make it through
__x__ Wake up in someone else's body
__x__ Get over myself

Rocking out

It's Friday morning and I'm in my office working on a report. I'm streaming Last.fm (thanks to Squint) for the first time. I like the music, but it is taking a back seat to the numbers I'm crunching.

Then it happens.

Supervixen by Garbage.

I crank up the speakers (I'm usually the only one in on Friday's before 9) and don't even close the door before I start doing my "Bow Down To Me" bump-and-grind dance. Friday gyrations are serious business.

After the song ends, I think back to the article I read last month about picking a theme song and singing it to boost confidence.

Outwardly, I scoffed. But secretly, I knew it to be true. The first notes of one of my faves always brings out the sexy, in control me - the one who walks taller, moves better, smiles more, and knows that the world wants me.

So why do we need a soundtrack to choreograph our lives?

This is not a new question, or a new concept. Music is more than just entertainment, it is a respected field of study. Click on any of the links here and see what scientists and industry say.

Music does make your brain happy. And that happiness translates directly to a spring in the step, a smile on the face, and out of control grinding and shaking on the dance floor.

When I think of my theme songs - admit it, you have them too - they invoke a feeling that equates to my most powerful moment - my undergrad graduation.

On that lazy Tacoma Sunday, the sun peeked through the clouds - a golden backdrop for nebulous clouds and a shining beacon in my nebulous future. My hair was afrolicious for a white girl, the humidity sparking ringlets amid wild frizz, and I was in great physical and intellectual shape. As I crossed the wide stage, amid cool sprinkles of rain, hope and power were tangible - firmly settled in my palm.

I don't remember what song was in my brain that day - there were several I played in my mind and let slip from my lips that year that I was 21 and knowing. But that day the soundtrack began to change from innocence to experience.

And when I hear one of my theme songs now, those palpable feelings from that day return.