Shoelaces for Josie

I’m hooked on this show. A big thanks to ABC for putting full episodes online - whole seasons worth actually. It really helps me in not getting anything else done besides develop another addiction. So, Brothers and Sisters. It’s a show about - well - brothers and sisters. The Walker family: two girls, three boys, a mom, a dad - ah, how nice - a complete American family with the white picket fence, the big company and the pool in the back yard. The show chronicles the lives of the five grown Walker children and how dysfunctional the family really is. But it also tells a story of a family that keeps coming back together after the big fights to support each other and love each other.

Big families are kind of a historically ancient concept these days. Actually not “kind of,” they are an archaic idea worthy of a museum. You’ll find a lot of families with two or three kids, sometimes four. Five and up?  Somebody skipped on birth control education day. It’s ok for me to say that, I come from a big family.

I’ve got one brother and four sisters. Counting myself that makes six kids. I used to wish that there were fewer of us. Or that there were more boys. Five girls is a lot, a whole handful worth. Ah that reminds me of something. My brother and I used to play volleyball over mum’s clothesline, while there were clothes hanging on it, clothes that started out as clean. I digress.

I’ve been contemplating this the last few days, trying to figure out whether my family is dysfunctional or not. I’ve reached the conclusion that the dysfunction in my family is of the subtle variety. It’s not blatantly obvious as it is on Brothers and Sisters but it’s definitely there. You’d have to know my family to see it - or happen to eavesdrop on the very few conversations that occur between myself and the parental unit. Now that I think about it, the dysfunction might actually just be present on my part. What a disturbing revelation.

Either way, this show is good. That’s the point I was trying to make. And the reason it is good is because it makes you think about your family and the types of relationships you have with them. It can really make you miss the family or it can really make you feel like a piece of crap daughter/sibling or it can make you wish you didn’t have secrets from your family and that you were close, fighting and all.

This show makes me want to raise a big family. It makes me want to have a large, dysfunctional family that fights a lot but also a family that doesn’t keep secrets and where, at the end of the day, you know you have a place to go when things get dark. And this is coming from a person who doesn’t do the kid thing - or marriage for that matter. I’d make a great aunt, but a mother? Dude. That’s a lot of late nights, diapers, dating rules, dollars and dark moods. I have enough of those on my own, minus the diapers, without throwing five kids into the mix. Wow.  Now I’m scared. Five kids? One kid? Hats off to all you parents; it’s one hell of an undertaking.

It’s an established fact that I love sports. I’m happiest when I’m at a basketball game. It’s that season - March Madness - the season of upsets, broken dreams, unparalleled successes.  My team lost tonight - the team that had so much talent and had the ability to go a long ways - they lost. *Tear* Ok, no, I didn’t actually cry, but I wanted to.

That’s the thing about sports. When you get close to a team, when you get to know its players, its style of play - the successes that team has becomes your own successes and the losses it suffers becomes losses for you, too. Sports can be so subjective. They take you for an emotional roller coaster ride and you don’t even realize it until you’re going down the 100-foot drop at 90 miles an hour with nothing to hold you in but a fragile belt. 

So I love sports but I also hate the way I allow myself to get so emotionally invested. It’s what makes it so fun and exciting but also such a mess when things don’t go the way you think they should. That team tonight, my team, that lost? They shouldn’t have; they were the better team. I know, I know - you’re thinking I’m biased. And I am, but I’m also telling the truth. They lost but they’re so much better than the team that won. Things don’t always work out the way they should. Sometimes the better team, sometimes the better person, we’re left holding a heavy bag. But when we open it, we find out it’s not the gold that we thought we had and is a bunch of gravel worth nothing and useless, only dragging you down.

Yeah, I love sports but I wish I could make things right. I wish I could have an impact on the outcome and I wish I wasn’t sitting here saying “I wish” and that I was actually making it happen instead. 

I just finished up my weekly meeting with the student-run newspaper staff a little while ago. I’m not a meeting sort of person. Meetings involve sitting and planning. I like doing, I’m a doer. Surprisingly enough, I don’t mind these meetings. It’s interesting to hear other people’s opinions about the previous issue and the ideas for the upcoming issue. My part rarely changes. It’s sports. I’m biased but I’m not so biased to think that it’s the most riveting part of the paper *though some weeks it is!*

I was just sitting here, calculating how much time in a week I spend on doing “newspaper stuff.” My conclusion?  A lot. I write weekly for the student paper and then I work part-time for one of the local-yokel papers - sports of course - is there any other section? Basketball season is wrapping up *tears are falling in the midst of my happy dance - basketball is by far the best but its season is oh-so-long!* so the work is slowing down a bit which is good and bad all rolled into one. I’m a self-proclaimed workaholic.

To top it off with a cherry, I work for the sports information department here on campus, churning out press releases and game recaps for the web like an 18th-century butter-churner with a bonnet. A blue one with frayed strings. One night last week, I wrote up the story for the women’s basketball game for Nick *aforementioned sports information department guru who has ALS, story pending - foreshadowing, you will cry.* For the Pilot *local-yokel paper* and the student-run paper I wrote stories on the men’s basketball game. I was using my cellular device whilst driving to the Pilot *yes, I’m one of those people* and told my friend I was going to work at 11 p.m. Who does that?  Eleven in the morning is understandable and quite acceptable. Eleven at night is not. Regardless, I had an odd sense of de ja vu when I was writing the men’s basketball story for the second time. I felt like I had seen it somewhere before, written in a very familiar style, oddly enough…

And so I rest my case concerning my love-affair with two different newspapers and a website. One of these days I’m going to have to choose one and make a complete commitment, choose one of the offers and stick with it. If I had to choose, I would pick the website. Oh the bliss of having no word limits! But, alas, it’s a decision that won’t need making for some substantial period of time because I enjoy playing the field far too much to be forced into a situation where a decision has to be made.  Although, when I am forced into said situation, at least I won’t have to give up my half of the bed or my half of the closet. Believe you me, there are perks to being married to the job.

I’m making up lost ground. When you blog, you develop a responsibility to your readers. I failed. I missed a day or two of posting. So, in an effort to rectify that bobble in my blogging venture, here I am, sipping on some malibu and observing my friends play an intense game of MarioKart. Considering my lack of MarioKart skills, I definitely think I’m sitting in a better seat.

I need to call my parents. Well, I don’t need to but I should which translates into “need.” But I don’t want to because the first thing they’re going to ask me is about the weather. After a long discussion about the ice storm and the aftermath of a foot of snow on top of that is done, there will be a long silence. Then they will talk about the cows, the sisters, the price of corn and I will sit and listen and throw in a few “ahuhs” and “yeahs.” Then there will be more silence. Then they’ll ask how work is going and I’ll say “fine” with no elaboration. What’s the point of telling them about my work? They hate sports and all my jobs revolve around sports. Then there will be more silence and then I’ll get tired of wasting my life, come up with some excuse and say good-bye. What’s the point of calling them when I already know how the conversation is going to go?  Oh, the things we do in the name of “need.”

And, holy crap. My friends are uber-competitive. MarioKart should be moved into Olympic sport status, it’s that intense.  Not that I’m not competitive; I have to really watch myself or I could make everything into a competition.

Speaking of competitions, there’s a 5K coming up. I really want to run in it, especially since it’s a benefit event for people with ALS. I’ll tell you my ALS story sometime but not tonight; it’s way too serious for this entry.

I want a library someday. Not one of those public libraries where the whole population comes traipsing through but my own library in my own house. That’s probably selfish of me but if I ever get to the point in my life where I stay in one place long enough to actually own a house, a house that’s worthy of a library, I figure I will have earned it.

I like books, what can I say?  Anna Karenina, The Scarlet Pimpernel, Gone With the Wind, Ivanhoe, A Tale of Two Cities, To Kill a Mockingbird, Tennyson, Shakespeare, Hemingway - they’re all going to be there. I know, I know - they’re old school books but they’re SO good!  And I’m going to have a globe in my library, a brown one, not a blue elementary school one. Every library should have a globe. It’s going to smell of leather and rich mahogany. *Napolean Dynamite isn’t a great movie but it’s the only library reference I could think of. Sad? I think the quote gods shed a tear.*

My record player!  My record player can go in my library too. It’s true, I own a record player. And I have four records. I went into Goodwill and purchased them to make sure my record player worked before sinking a bunch of money into records I really wanted. Not that The Roaring 20’s or Oklahoma! are bad records - just not quite my style. Let’s get The Shins spinning. Or some Journey. “Don’t stop believin’ Hold on to the feelin’” That’s some inspirational stuff right there.

And it’s raining outside. In February. Awesome. 

TGIT!!!  If only it were Friday.

Do you remember when you started college?  There was so much excitement, nervousness, hope - all that warm fuzzy crap that gives one a false sense that everything is right in the world. I remember when I first came to college. I worked at my summer job until the day before freshman orientation. That night, I packed up my entire 18 years of life into a car, went to bed and anxiously awaited the next day.  The day that my life was going to begin again, the day when I started a whole new life, a life that was going to be amazing in which I was going to do amazing things.

Four years later, I haven’t really got much to show for it.  I haven’t done anything amazing - at least I don’t think so.  Mostly I’ve just got a bunch of bad memories and a huge debt to one certain institution that shall remain nameless. It doesn’t deserve a name; it deserves to be called the institution that has no name, from here on out referred to simply as Institution.

So, four years later, I’m looking to start my life over.  Again.  A place to start fresh, a new beginning, a world of opportunities and no regrets.  I would really rather not be doing this the rest of my days, having to pick up my life and start someplace new again. It’s easy for someone like McDreamy who has millions of dollars and can just move from New York to Seattle and buy a bunch of land with a Martian-looking trailer home on it. It’s not so easy for someone who has aforementioned debt to Institution. But, you do what you must, I suppose.

I take that back, I have done one amazing thing. I drank copious amounts of alcohol at the Hofbrauhaus in Munich and then thought I was a member of the Singing in the Rain cast and stood on a trash can next to a street lamp, wrapped myself around it, swung an arm out wide and began singing. There’s a picture of it somewhere. I remember the bright flash of light - I thought it was the paparazzi. 

Sometimes Jack’s Mannequin speaks to me.  He’ll call me up on the phone and we’ll talk for hours. Basically we’re best friends and I think we’re going out for drinks this weekend.  Honestly though, the music is amazing….

Lately, I’ve been alone in a crowded room. I go to countless high school basketball games. I stand on the sidelines, doing my job, and sometimes I glance up at the stands and wonder about the sea of people packing the gym. Wall-to-wall people: all of them talking, laughing, being silent…where did they all come from and why are they all there?

And then I wonder what they think when they see me down there. The solitary figure, almost always alone, almost always silent *not unusual - last time I checked, talking to yourself in public is not socially acceptable.* I know why I’m there; I’m working. But them?  All these people in a crowded room and I’m alone.

Sometimes, I feel like a painting that sits in the path of the sunlight streaming through the east window. The vibrant colors don’t last. They fade. A once amazing painting becomes a shadow of what it once was. Where did all my colors go? I need a painter to paint them back on and I can’t find the painter that is right for me.

Have you ever been alone in a crowded room? I’m in class right now, in a room that resembles a supply closet, with 17 other people. Thank goodness about half the people skipped today because I’m claustrophobic.

I believe that….

    Attraction between two people can happen anytime and anywhere, regardless of age, race or class

    Money can’t buy you happiness but that having it makes your life easier

    Looking into someone’s eyes will tell you more about them than staring at their ass

    Dishes don’t need to be washed until you have a sink full of them

    People are too quick to pass judgment, myself included

    The past changes who you are and how you make your decisions

    Music is a lifeline

    Friends are the ones that are there for you but sometimes, you have to go it alone

    Getting comfortable means you don’t grow near as much

    Alcohol is never an excuse

    You don’t have to be happy all the time but you should appreciate the fact that you’re alive

    Finally, the simple things in life are what makes it worth living.

 Yeah, there’s really no point to this blog.  I just wanted you to read through all those before you got down to this point so I could tell you that I was just posting so people would have something to waste their time with. Some things just don’t need to have a point and this entry was one of them!

I’m not really sure that my opinion is worth a whole lot.  Although I bet I could auction it off on Ebay and make a decent turn of profit.  So I think I’m going to just have a trial run on here.  In no particular order:

* Being thin does not make you happy.

* Snow and rain should never be mixed.

* The institution at which I am getting a degree is worthless.

* Love, or lust, obeys no rules.

* 4:30 in the morning should never be seen by a normal human being.

* Desktop Post-It Notes was the best invention. Ever.

* MP3’s land second in the best invention list.

* When everything is going right, something wrong is in the process of happening.

*  Don’t follow your heart. It lies to you.

* Free pizza tastes better than the same type of pizza that had to be paid for.

* Pineapple juice should never be mixed into an alcoholic drink.

* Speaking of, tequila can jump off a cliff. Double shot with no chaser anyone?

* The word “you” typed as “u” should be the eighth deadly sin.

* Blink 182 is an amazing band. Period.

That’s the first installment of the opinion list. It actually took me a little bit to think of my opinions.  I mean, I have them, but when I put myself on the spot, I had to scramble.  Of course, I was a little choosy about what opinions I voiced - who wants to hear that war sucks, that the peanut butter recall was ridiculous or that the most recent episode of Grey’s Anatomy was of hyper-ventilation status? I didn’t think so. It’s clear to me that my opinions about obscure topics will become of national importance. I am currently looking into purchasing another lock for my front door to keep all the reporters at bay. I’m looking on Ebay of course.

That whole serial killer comment really should have been a forewarning to me.  I mean, really, who says that? Even more so, who follows that up with an “Oh, by the way, while we’re not on the topic, I love you. Just going to throw that in there.”  To be completely honest, I’m not sure he ever said anything in response. I walked a few feet away and stood there in one of those “serial killer” shadows and after a few moments he came over to join me and we walked the rest of the way home in silence.

Needless to say, our relationship slipped and slided its way down the proverbial trail to hell and there it stayed. Come to think of it, I’m not really sure it was ever out of hell. Gosh, sad. 

“Where have you been keeping yourself the last three years?”

“Oh, you know, just chillin’ down with my homies in hell. I’d invite you down for a visit but it’s a touch warm.”

But anyway, I’m out of hell and have been for a year and I intend to keep it that way. I made a big mistake but I surely don’t intend to ever make it again. That’s the beautiful thing about mistakes. They’re always there to remind you about a road you traveled once and as a warning to not traverse it again.

Let’s have a huzzah for mistakes, painful though they may be, I lift my glass.