Get Down, Woman

Nothing is more relaxing and clarifying than a long drive through Missouri listening to Creedence Clearwater Revival. If people did that every weekend, the world would be a much better place.

Lately I’ve had to warn a lot of people in my life that I’m not ready to be 100% there… words like “relationship” and “boyfriend” aren’t exactly in my vocabulary right now. But I think I’m almost there.

It’s amazing who can pop into your head when you’re not trying to think about anyone at all.

When you’re out in the country and away from the noise, the day-to-day grind, the distractions and the convenience – that’s when your heart speaks loud and clear.

I, for one, am not afraid to listen.

This weekend was really great. Lots of old friends, lots of laughing, more improv than I could handle, making margaritas come out of somebody’s nose, and a big ridiculous puppy named Sarge. A long drive is worth it when times like that are waiting for you at the end. And coming home is just as rewarding, especially when your roommate greets you with shit like this.

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There’s a term in poetry (used mainly with translations) called “after”… if you write something that’s based on someone else’s material, you cite the original work by noting that it was “after” the original author. A lot of things qualify as “after”: writing about a different topic in the same style or format, taking the original topic and anecdotes and just kind of saying it in a different way, or simply being inspired by the original piece and writing a reaction to it. I always wondered how I’d feel if someone wrote something “after” me.

And now I know. And it’s kinda creepy. Look, I’m not trying to be Maya Angelou over here. Apparently there are a lot of things “after” me floating around out there right now. But it’s more amusing to hear about it than to actually waste my time reading it.

“I have nothing new to teach the world. Truth and non-violence are as old as the hills.”

Gandhi was right, but sometimes people will jump on your ass for that, too. And damn, it’s fun to be bad when you know that at the very least, you’re original.

If there was ever a time where I wished I could phonetically spell “fine” the way we say it, it’s now. Fehhhyne. Does that sound right?

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I listened to Ginger’s iTunes today because I didn’t feel like wearing my headphones, and she usually has well behaved music that won’t offend my boss or next door neighbor. The Dawson’s Creek soundtrack, John “Shudder” Mayer, a little country, a little Britney. The music was sitting in the background nicely and I was going about my business when all of a sudden “Boom I F%#*ed Your Boyfriend” by Salt ‘n Pepa came blaring through the speakers. Everyone laughed, but even if they were offended I think we all can agree that at this point, ANYTHING is better than “Celebrate”.

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Last night I was talking to Liz about her wedding. She was telling me about her dress and her big pouffy train. She told me I’d have to be her “fluffer”. Then she laughed hysterically and said it like five more times. This is why I love Liz.

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The next few weekends are going to be insane: house-sitting, baby showers, camping, Kansas City, birthdays, James Brown, and a possible road trip to Mishy-Gan.

I also desperately want to go to Meremac Caverns soon, though. And to Fright Night as well, because I’ve never been. I may or may not have been brainwashed by the 5,923 billboards I saw on my way to Springfield and back, but whatevs. Cheesy ghosts, roller coasters, pretty caves and Jesse James’ hideout. Who’s in?

But the next stop is Chicago – tomorrow! Yay! I’ll be there again in a couple of months when I’m not working, but I’m still really excited. I have to meet everyone at 6AM, though, which means I’ll probably start sedating myself as soon as I get home. So don’t call unless you want a piece of the sleepy pill brains, okie dokie?