Scattering the Pieces of My Heart and Soul

A funny thought struck me recently.

I was sitting on my couch watching TV and I realized that I missed Tennessee.  Yes, I was only there a week ago but I was missing it.  Which got me thinking - why?  How do I miss a place I haven't spent much time in?

I also miss New Orleans.  And Florida.  And Memphis.  I can close my eyes and am instantly transported to these places.  What is it that happens that makes it feel as though I am right there?

I think it starts when I get to go out and see the area around where I'm staying.  When I get to know the state and it's geography.  Sitting at an intersection and looking around.  Seeing it's lumps, bruises, bulges and valleys.  Watching the way the sun reflects off the stream or hides behind it's hills.  How the wind whistles through the trees or glides around the buildings.  Listening to the birds sing and the cars rumble by.  Feel the way the heat bounces of my skin and the humidity makes my hair stick to my neck.

It's having my best friend next to me and laughing.  Making our own inside jokes and surviving heat and terrible storms.  Eating fabulous food.  Seeing and hearing things that I can't experience at home.  Learning how people drive in cities other than your own.  Smiling at people you don't know.  Being a little loud.  Trying a new cocktail.

And then I realized: it's all these things that make me leave part of my heart behind and have a fragment of my soul stay without me.

People talk about travel making you feel more whole.  I disagree.  If you're traveling correctly, you should leave parts of you behind (no, not your toothbrush).  The more you travel the more you should have pieces of yourself scattered about.  To me, that's what travel is about.

Good Idea vs Bad Idea

Hey Boys and Girls, let's play a fun game I like to call "Good Idea, Bad Idea"!

Want to play?  It's simply, really, I mention a Good Idea and mention how it could quickly become a Bad Idea.  Ready?  Here...we...go!

Good Idea:

Having a network that millions of players can access.

Bad Idea:

Having a network that a few users can access using unauthorized means.

Good Idea:

Allowing users to store their information so that they can purchase things for use in their games or watch on their TV's.

Bad Idea:

Not encrypting this information. 

Good Idea:

Shutting down said network after it has been breached.

Bad Idea:

Waiting about 10 days to notify the members that their personal information has been hacked.

 Image: ningmilo / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Harpooning An Electric Jellyfish

So, I've lived in my apartment for about a year now.  And, it's taken about that whole year to finally feel like I'm at home.  What do I do when I near that milestone?  Why...redecorate, of course!

When I first moved in I originally wanted to paint my dining room red and had my eye on a lamp.  This lamp, to be exact.  After a year, still fascinated by the idea, I decided to take the plunge.  So I painted the wall red and drove out to Ikea and bought the lamp.

Yes, your astute observation is correct - that wall is, indeed, not red

I was delighted to find that the drive to Ikea was a breeze!  And that, my friends, is where the good news ends.

Women nearly ran over me and I struggled getting my box 'o' lamp down the escalator.  Seriously.  That thing was heavy!

But, I was not to be deterred.  I had my lamp.  I was even nicknaming it.  Imaging all the adventures we'd have together all the fun experiences to come.  So I merrily lugged it from my car, across the parking lot (might as well have been the Adirondacks), up the stairs and into my apartment.

I open the box and see many parts but I persevere.  I screw the post together.  And then start to attach the top.

Now - I apologize for not taking pictures of this Pulitzer Prize winning photographic moment.

The cord does not easily slide through the top, down the pole, and out the base.  Oh no.  I turn the thing on its side.  And pull the cord through.  I swear to God - it looked like I was harpooning something.  The top of the lamp is dilly-dallying along (of course I attached the arms and little votive cups first, I wouldn't want to make this easy).

Once I turned 65, the top of the lamp made it over.  I screw it down, crow triumphantly and plug it in.

Aaaaand the damn thing doesn't light up.

Hmm...perhaps I should've read the directions.

Then I see them.  The bulbs.  A little blurp of glass with two metal prongs.  That fit into two little holes.  Positioned inside the votive cups.

Well, at least it looks pretty

See how much space there isn't?  Yeah.  It's about the size of my fingers.  Wanna guess how fun it is blindly jamming two little metal prongs into two holes you can't see?

So I get all the bulbs in.  While praying and simultaneously cursing, I turn the lamp on.  Choirs of angels sing as it miraculously turns on.

I swear...it looks less sad and wilty in person

Okay.  Fine.  It's not so miraculous.  I installed all the bulbs and plugged it into an electrical outlet.  Just let me have this moment...

The Road and The Radio

You have a lot on your mind.  Some of it’s good, some of it’s bad.  Either way you just want to clear your head.  So you get into your car after work and start driving home.

You turn a different way than normal.  You drive until you find a road that you don’t recognize and you turn.  Maybe it’s right or left, it doesn’t really matter.

You keep driving.  You drive until you’re on a road that you can drive freely on.  Perhaps it’s an empty highway or a lone country road.  There are no other cars around and no stop lights.  You just keep driving.

You take turns periodically, just to liven things up a bit.  Maybe you don’t, whatever – it’s your journey.

You fumble with the radio, trying to find the song that your soul needs to hear so you can start healing.  Amazing how the right song can change you.  You don’t know what it is you need to hear, but you’ll know it when you hear it.

It’s beginning to get dark out and a few raindrops are beating down.  You turn your lights on.  You flick your windshield wipers on.  They swipe across, wiping the rain away.

The street is all glittery now.  Everything glistens in your headlights.  The scenery is dark, glittery and empty.  Everything seems darker in the rain.  And yet, there’s a beautiful, eerie iridescence to it.

Finally, that song you need comes on the radio.  For a few blessed seconds, the world seems to stop.  The thoughts leave your mind and your soul feels warm.

And you cry.  Or you don’t, it’s of no importance.  But you start to feel better.  And as the song ends and you stop crying (if you ever started) you realize it’s time to go home.  So without even knowing the way, you find your way home. 

The lights are reflected back brightly in the black, liquid puddles on the asphalt.  The tires splash through sending droplets of glitter scattering through the air.

You get home, turn off the radio and fumble for your keys.

You walk to your front door feeling lighter.  Less thoughts cluttering up your mind.

Maybe you even feel a little free.

And you won’t tell anybody because it’s a secret. 

A secret between you, the road, and the radio.

You Know You're A Grown Up When...

...you're standing in your local MegaMart and are bypassing the Easter candy.

The clearance in the Junior's section.

The wine.

        No, wait - you actually stop and go back to that.

You bypass the shoes.

Jewelry.

Purses.

         Damn.  No, you go back to that too.

You head straight over to the vacuum cleaners because you need a new one (since someone's fur has clogged it all up).  And that is all you purchase.

Yes, I know, she's adorable.  Furry but adorable.

Even though there was a $12 bottle of Merlot.

Coping Mechanism

I have two strange ways of dealing with things.

1) If I'm stressed I'll look up planes that are leaving to go somewhere other than here that are leaving in about 2 hours.  I figure that gives me enough time to get to the airport and board the plane. I take it all the way up to actually entering in credit card information.

2) If I'm scared about something, I'll do something else that scares the living daylights out of me.

#2 has served me (and my friends/family) well.  It usually revolves around me whipping up something in the kitchen.  It's how I learned how to make my fantabulous buttercream frosting.  It's why I learned to make meringue.

It is also the reason I have started taking guitar lessons.

You see, I turn 25 this May and it scares the pants off me.  

Guitar lessons now...climbing Mt. Everest when I turn 40!

(Kidding, Mom.  Kidding.)

Migraines

I woke up this morning with great plans.

Okay, great as in "huge" not "super-de-duper".  I was going to take down my tree, mostly.  Clean the bejesus out of my kitchen.  Cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  Wipe some things of my DVR.  Do laundry.  Some grocery shopping.  I had a full day planned.

And then...I woke up.  Perhaps I should say I was no longer awake.  I felt like I had a miniature man behind my eyelids pounding away with a sledgehammer.

Aw, crap.  A migraine.

I stumbled into the bathroom (because anymore movement would have caused me to be physically ill).  I fished out what I hoped was Excedrin and Advil.  I looked in the mirror.  And my eyes were bloodshot.  I'm talking Natalie Portman in Black Swan red.

Fabulous.  I look like I had a really good time last night.

Honestly, though...those eyes are RED

Which I did - if you count eating a bag of popcorn and falling asleep before SNL even began.


But, I digress.  I choked down the pills and found my way back to bed.  Desperately wishing that this migraine would either miraculously go away OR my head would just explode and end the agony.  Either one would be an acceptable remedy.

I shove my head under my pillow to block out any cracks of light (thanks for that, Venetian blinds) and pray to the heavens that my noisy downstairs neighbors do not start a fight - again - or start blaring techno music.

Luckily, it passed by the time I woke up at 12:30.

And, yes.  My tree is still up.

Dichotomy

I think that word fits me in a nutshell.

I constantly surprise people by the stuff that I like and don't like.

I'm terrified of heights, yet I have no problem shinnying several feet in the air up a palette rack.  I don't have an athletic bone in my body but I LOVE watching sports.  I am exceptionally low maintenance, but I have enough make up to supply a small army.

Granted, a cross dressing army...but I digress.

So...we arrive at the name of this blog and how I choose to define myself.  I'm not much of a drinker, but when I do drink I LOVE whiskey.  And wine.  My mom once said that I was like somebody wearing a ball gown with cowboy boots.  But I think this has a better ring to it!