Funday Monday

Today’s Monday is miles and miles away from last week’s Monday.  Like Pacific Ocean amounts of miles.  Is it dickish to always be talking about how happy I am?  I mean, I’m not gonna apologize for my life or anything, but it’s OK if you wanna walk away now, too.  Because it’s one of those days where I feel like I’m living in a movie and everything is going right, and I’m like a bulldozer of motherfuckin sunshine.  I’m rocking a sundress and it’s gorgeous outside.  There’s a tattooed boy in my 8:30 AM class, and here’s a mini-confession: one quick way to instill a baby crush in me is to be tatted all up and down your arms.  In something other than gay ass tribal tattoos.  I don’t know why this works, but I’ll be damned if I don’t smile more at those boys than any other kind.  I’ve had Starbucks, made by my favorite Starbucks employee (yes, I have a favorite Starbucks employee.  Don’t YOU?).  More than once, a butterfly flitted across my path on the way home, like I was some magical, orphaned Disney princess and they had just arrived to dress me or do my laundry or escort me to the ball.  My iPod is playing all the right songs.  Songs I didn’t even know I wanted to hear until I did.  And while I was walking past the field right before the Spooky Shack on my way home, I looked up to see a BG biplane flying past the faint outline of the moon in the pale blue sky.  Doesn’t that sound like something Pocahontas would sing about?  Except minus the airplane and maybe plus a crow as black as night or something?  It was such a bizarre, surreal sight that I think I just decided that the first painting I commission will be that image.  God I hope my life is opulent enough one day that I just run about commissioning paintings.  Maybe I hope that.  Cause life is cool right now, too.  I just emailed a friend in China all my secrets and stories, even though I wasn’t sure I had the right address.  My legs are smooth, I get paid tonight, and I seriously don’t give a fuck about reading right now, and I don’t give a fuck that I don’t give a fuck.  I get to see my family and puppies this weekend.   I kissed a stranger Friday night.   

Does it make me seem simple when I talk about the things that make me happy?  It really doesn’t take much.  I’m like a cat in that regard: I get pissy if I’m not fed regularly, but all I really require is a sunny spot and moderate human interaction daily to be really content.  And maybe a nap here or there.  Just pet me sometimes and tell me you love me, and I promise I’ll always be OK.

Constructive Summer

This summer…. man, how can I even begin to explain this summer?  This summer was probably the best one of my life so far.  This summer was a respite, first and foremost, from the awful.  This summer was everything I needed and had been looking forward to from August to May.  I’d have to say this summer really delivered.  This summer brought the arrival of a beautiful new baby boy into the life of a not-so-close-anymore friend.  This summer saw the realization of a lifelong dream, and it was better than I ever ever ever could have imagined.  This summer I walked down Fifth Avenue, ate lunch in Central Park, drank in a cramped Manhattan apartment with one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met, hailed my first taxi, and had a magical moment on the Brooklyn Bridge.  This summer another dream was reaffirmed.  This summer was work, almost daily sometimes, mostly with people I love and adore and miss to death right now.  This summer was constantly being with my three best friends, whom my heart hurts thinking about sometimes, because the three of them are together and I am here.  This summer I met some interesting characters.  This summer was driving, driving, driving, and loving every minute of it.  I miss that.  This summer was a mini-roadtrip by myself, just me and the open road, to visit someone I loved.  This summer was freedom and money.  This summer was spent partially sleeping on my best friend’s hardwood floor.  This summer was my first shot in a bar, so this summer was sort of illegal.  This summer was the burning of some significant things, things that still cross my mind from time to time.  This summer I cleaned, I cooked, I read not nearly as much as I told myself I would, I stayed up late, I drank, I saw and spent time with everyone I loved.  This summer there was a boy, just as there has always been a boy, but this summer the boy-crush turned out to be a little more lasting and intense than I expected.  Shit.  This summer involved discovering lots of new music at my new favorite music store.  This summer was The Hold Steady, The Hold Steady, The Hold Steady, The Hold Steady.   This summer I totally jinxed myself.  This summer was late night decorating for one of the most wonderful people I know.  This summer was drunken camping and lots of girl talk.  This summer was a mystery knock at the door and the best surprise I’ve ever gotten.  This summer brought the death of a kid that I didn’t even know, yet still brought me to tears during an absolutely bereft moment late one night.  This summer was a walk in the rain.  This summer was worrying about a friend who sometimes seems to be changing too fast for me to keep up with, so this summer was kind of anxious and sad.  This summer was terror at the thought of August, which means this summer was ignoring the fact that August 24th even existed.  This summer was the Olympics, and the Rinehart Olympics.  This summer took me to Florida for some quality sister time, and one relaxing, perfect week with people who share the same ideas about vacation as I do.  This summer was my first flight, but for a very good reason.  This summer was some damn crying into my ice cream in the middle of a Florida street, so don’t think this summer was not occasionally embarassing.  This summer I think I must have met more people who intrigued me or made me laugh or fleetingly crush than any other time in my life.  And finally, this summer literally ended with a bang.

I can’t wait til May.

Plane Jane

I’ve been thinking a lot about flying lately.  Mostly because I worked at the Air Show this weekend, where I learned the names of planes like the SR-71 and the F-22 and the B-52, which, up till now I had always believed to be just the name of a band.   Anyways, I spent the weekend schlocking overpriced souvenir airplanes to parents, or rather their whiny children, who demanded to have the B-2 Stealth Bomber, and pouted when they found out we had sold out of the Chinook helicopter.  I really hope these children grow up to go on dates someday, because man, I also interacted with alot of their Future Sleves if they don’t get their shit together.  I’m talking 30 somethings with tube socks and ham radios who show up at the Air Show at 8 in the morning and stay all day and also buy toy airplanes.  I have seen your future, children, and it is lonely….

But also, I’ve been thinking about flying because, in a little less than 3 weeks, I will fly for the first time, down to Florida to visit my oldest sister and her fiance.  I am really quite horrified at the notion of this.  I know that it is highly unlikely that my plane will go down in flames, but even as I sit here writing this, I feel like I’m definitely jinxing myself… Sorry, fellow flyers!  If the plane goes down, it’s definitely because this random girl in Ohio thought it might happen!  Honestly though, I have no idea how I’m going to keep myself calm, but plans definitely include listening to “Flight 180″ on repeat and averting my eyes from the windows.  I really don’t think I could handle being in amongst the clouds for an extended period of time without losing my shit.  And it doesn’t help that I’m traveling with another first time flyer, my older sister Whitney, or that we have a plane switch (or whatever they’re called…. told you, I’m not good at this) in Atlanta, which is supposed to be one massively busy and hellish airport.  Great!  Good times all around!

On a completely unrelated side note, IMDB suggests that if I loved Death At A Funeral (which: I really, really did; any movie containing Matthew McFadyen, poop jokes, and madcap British hijinx?  I’m there), I would also enjoy The Godfather.  I sincerely doubt this, but then again, maybe it is time that I give The Godfather a try….