Wiped out. Will post tomorrow.

In the meantime - fyi:

I wake up every morning at 6:30 a.m. to the Isley Brother's "That Lady". It never fails to make me laugh.

i'd like to apologize for all of the bad grammar and poor punctuation. anyway...

I think we can all agree that getting good hair can make a persons day. It was time for another trim and color, and I am very pleased with the new age-appropriately punk-ish do (more layer-y angles, darker underlayers with chunkier blonde streak-y things. I should get a picture.)

Let me tell you, I am mad about my new hairdresser. Wicked-crazy about him. I haven't laughed this hard in ages, and the stories - oh. my. I'm going to leave it at that.

In other news, the older I get, the easier it is to be spontaneous, and do things like go to a baseball game on the spur of the moment. (Or at least allow your arm to be twisted to go.) C. and I had a marvelous time, and I finally got that damn Tolltag I've been meaning to get for the past six weeks.

I've also given up my recent steady diet of Coldplay (Sidenote: Is this a classic example of "gendertainment"? Is Coldplay a chick group, or are there fervent male Coldplay fans out there?) to revisit my favorite birthday boy. Happy Birthday to the original Napoleon Dynamite - you big old hunka burning genius, you.

I've also gotten another laugh from my friend Billy (and God knows it's good to laugh). A wonderful story!

Have a nice weekend.

holy mother of potential migraines

Crap.

Don't knock over a half-glass of Cuvee 2003 when you're getting ready for bed. I had to use a half of a can of Spot Shot to get it all up.

The scent isn't exactly conducive to sweet dreams.

the post where i post before i lay low for a while

Editor's Note: I wrote this entry last Thursday night and saved it as a draft. (It is now Monday night, the 22nd of August.) I knew I was violating the tipsy posting laws. For the record I don't really believe blogs are stupid. Just this one. Sometimes. What I'm thinking today is "hellfire and damnation! It's just too hot, people. I am happier to be here than any place on Earth, but - crap. Get thyself to a nice, cold movie theater, woman. Or the frozen foods section of Tom Thumb. Or eat that ice cream later while you're in bed watching a good chick flick because you can do that now, you know. Or listen to a little Zero 7. Just do everyone a favor and stop posting after you've had a couple of glasses of wine, and stop talking about your "friend", because that's not even a little bit subtle."

p.s. I leave you with a word of wisdom, internet void. It's all subterfuge:

Do you have any idea how refreshing it is to spend an evening with people you can have frank discussions about sex with?

Do you? (When I say "frank", you know what I mean. Not pornographic. Frank. Like Sinatra.)

I don't get personal on this stupid-ass blog. (Yes, it's stupid. Blogs are stupid. Life is not stupid. I'm not saying you are stupid if you have a blog.)

Where was I?

Yes. Sex. It's not stupid, but - evidently - I am in some freakish, suburban minority.

O.K., not me. My friend. My friend says she rather enjoys sex. Anyway - She's really a pretty passionate sort of person. Evidently she's peakish. Throw love into the mix, and the potential for burning-hot-hip-action is - yes, please.

Have you ever had your lips near a persons lips (just so near)? Maybe a centimeter away, or less. Can you identify their toothpaste and salad dressing (by brand)? Can you detect visible heatwaves emenating from their eyelashes and beltbuckle?

This typically leads to hip-action, or, as my friend calls it - unpacking.

Unpacking is a wonderful thing, and it's sad when normal, decent people lose that perspective. It's easy to do when you've got responsibilities that dictate action that has no hip involvement.

Then, you can all have drinks together, and talk about when you all last unpacked, and you can smile to yourself because you know you were the last one to unpack. Or your friend was the last one to unpack.

Whatever.

The general consensus is that we are far more frank in our discussions than men are.

It's a privilege to be a fly on the wall.

Bottom line is: (yes, I'm tipsy)

I'm so happy to be home, with my old, and new, girlfriends. Funny thing is that it's better now. I'm in a better frame of mind.

Last night I saw a shooting star out of the corner of my right eye. It was low on the horizon, and I only saw it for a split-second, but the tail was brilliant. I was listening to "Sparks", and I started to cry, and I thought to myself, "God, this must be some sort of sign."

I was suddenly aware of everything - the way my heart felt beating in my chest, the way I was breathing, the warmth of my skin, the taste in my mouth, etc.

Yes, I've still got a pulse. That's always a positive thing.

The funny thing about "signs", I thought, is that sometimes you're clueless about what they are. I just had one of those gut feelings, and it was enough to make me cry.

"Don't overthink it", I told myself. "Just feel", which I did. Shortly after that I put on my pajamas and went to bed. I was spooked by the shadows the full moon was creating. The wind made the tree limbs look like something (or someone) was lurking outside the bedroom window. Logically I told myself it was just tree limbs, but I still get scared when I'm alone. I don't understand why, but I get frightened by noises, the dark, and shadows. I keep these feelings to myself for the most part. I guess my strengths lie in other areas.

Take this morning, for example. On a drive to Plano I found my heart filled with love, hope, confidence, and pride.

"Just feel", I told myself again.

Be happy. Don't worry too much. Everything will be all right.

mama mia

My mother just called me.

"Could you please do me a favor?"

(Oh good grief, I thought. What?...)

"Turn it on Channel 13, and just watch. O.K.?"

So I'm watching a documentary on her all-time favorite group, and I'm remembering how uncool Abba was (to me) in that brief, golden time of my life when I was a sensational awkward teen.

The days when I loved Zeppelin, The Stones, Van Halen, AC/DC, Pink Floyd, Elvis Costello, and The Plimsouls.

The days when I loved - a-hem - Ambrosia, Kenny Loggins, Chicago, and Styx.

The days when I loved Hall and Oates, Gino Vanelli, and Andy Gibb.

Yeah.

Fernando is a great song. Not that I'd admit that.

I also never rocked the "Abba" hair back in the day.

I've never sung along to "Dancing Queen". I've never danced to "Waterloo".

All kidding aside, it was nice getting one of the "old" phone calls. See, my Mom and I had a brief time where we actually got along, and we'd call each other all the time to tell each to turn it to whatever channel on the t.v. that we were watching something on. The channel that needed to be watched NOW.

Movies, old Andy Griffith shows, and Christmas specials were big. (Example: "It's A Wonderful Life" is on, or "That Andy Griffith show where he puts Otis in jail is on - the one that made me cry.")

Yes, I've cried over old Andy Griffith shows. I swear I'm not 100 years old. Yet.

The Abba show is still on, and I'm nearly certain that the phone will ring as soon as the credits start to roll.

Yeah, Mom. Abba was cool.

Rock on.

the post where i post (again)

I posted something last night, and deleted it, and I don't even know why. Basically all I said was how thankful I am for the friends I have. (I'm a dork.)

Speaking of friends, I'm going to see some of them tonight. I'm looking forward to that because I'm lonely.

Life is good at the moment. Things have gone well for loved ones. Life is precious, people. Don't ever take that for granted.

There are still things that are weird. Things I'm worried about, like my Dad, and his happiness (or lack thereof.) I'm glad that I'm here, and can invite him over to talk, and eat. I'm doing everything I can not to get angry with my Mother. It's hard.

For one of the first times in a long time the good so far outweighs the bad that I'm not consumed with worry. One of my strongest points is my capacity to love. There are times I've felt this was a weakness. That if I could harden my heart a little more then things wouldn't bother me, and I'd be able to protect myself from getting hurt. The thing is I'm not emotionally capable of that. I know my love might not be able to save someone, but it won't hurt them, either.

The little, and not-so-little things will work themselves out.

In the meantime, I'm going to have a good time tonight. (Cheers! There may or may not be some drunk dialing later this evening.) On that note I'll leave you with a corny joke:

What did the young popcorn kernel brag to the other young kernels?
Betcha my Pop's bigger than yours!

p.s. I finally ordered this c.d.. I've kinda/sorta wanted it for a few years, and just said "what the heck". For you youngsters that might not know who The Plimsouls are, Everywhere At Once is a bargain at $5.99. (One of my personal favorite c.d.'s. I love "Oldest Story In The World", and, yeah, of course - "A Million Miles Away".)

the post where i take another bath, and think to myself

So I lit all the candles, and started the water, and had to decide what tunes to put on. The c.d.'s are currently in the closet (Sidenote: This closet is as big as the master bedroom in the Beach house), so I looked at the bottom shelf, and it was a toss-up between The Cure and Nat King Cole, and of course I picked Nat King Cole. (It's a bubble-bath, with candles. Duh.)

I put on the Nat, and the first song is "Smile", which, ironically, always make me cry when I hear it. I'm thinking to myself as I get in the tub "I'd like this to played at my funeral. Everyone will cry buckets!" (I'm mean that way.)

I soak, and listen, and drink, and think to myself "I'd like to have a dress-up party with a mirror ball and crepe paper, and Nat King Cole playing, and couples dancing in my living room while the gas logs and dozens of candles burn, and then we'd all go outside and dance a little more, and then a couple would accidentally fall in the pool, and (of course) everyone would just go ahead and start jumping in, and we'd all put on bathrobes, and sing "Buffalo Girls", and lasso the moon."

I'm still soaking, and pick up my cell phone, and make a brief call*,and say good-bye, and cry while I listen to "Unforgettable". I can hear the dog snoring. She sounds just like Curly from "The Three Stooges", and I start thinking to myself "I never really liked 'The Three Stooges'. I do love 'The Simpsons', and I heard they're making a Simpsons movie. That should be great. There hasn't been anything in the theaters lately that's made me need to go to the movies. I heard bad things about the John Cusack movie. Whatever."

Then I started to wonder if they'd make a movie out of the book I just finished for book club ("Snow Flower and The Secret Fan"), and thought to myself "It was allright, I guess." Then I thought about the foot-binding, and Chinese Astrology, and remembered that I was born in the year of The Rabbit, and thought it's freakish how much this suits me.

My mind goes off in these meaningless little directions, and before I know it I'm analyzing why I'm thinking about stupid shit.

Is it because I'm scared, or goofy, or lonely?

Who cares!

Then I get out of the tub, and put on my pajamas, and think to myself "I'd really like these pajamas as well", and I think about how many different sets and types of pajamas I own because I really like pajamas.

So I decide to blog all this, and I realize I've made more than three posts in one week, and think to myself "What?!"

Then I drank some water, ate a piece of cheese, brushed my teeth, and went to bed.

Good-night, Internet Void.

Good-night, Moon.

*Yes, I was careful not to drop the phone in the water.

the post where i will talk about one of my current favorite songs at some point, i promise

Things are weird. I use the term weird when things are going on that are scary for me, or confusing, or beyond my control. I'm struggling on a lot of different levels. I've got weird stuff coming at me from various directions, and I'll focus on the good stuff first.

My uncle sent home a large bag of tomatoes and squash from his garden, and I just ate the rest of the summer squash I cooked on Sunday. My uncle is close to 80 years old now (my Dad's older brother), and has gotten quite honery, but he loves his family. The last time I saw him I walked up to him to give him a hug, knowing the man does not hug people. This gives me great pleasure, because I'm wicked that way.

I also talked to the friend who refers to this blog as my column, and I'm going to be doing some work for a major non-profit cancer research company based in Dallas. We also discussed pics of her boyfriends' house that's on the market, and whether you could see her underwear stuffed under the bed. Anyway, the hockey stars were aligned today because he's staying put in Big D., and Stevie is still a Wing. As if it could've been resolved any other way.

I love this friend because she makes me laugh, and says the dirtiest things so sweetly that the thought of how what she's just said would sound coming out of my mouth leaves me in awe.

I got a lot of good things accomplished today, and managed to distance my mind from the weird stuff, for the most part. Then I got stuck in traffic (damn you, metroplex - you know I love you, and know I'll end up forgiving your cruel ways. I'm such a pushover.) While stuck in traffic I listened to Coldplay's "Fix You" (on the new X&Y c.d.), and a stubborn tear leaked out, and I tried to sing along with Chris Martin (those high notes are hard to hit), and I thought about me, and these people in my heart that I love, and how I can't give up on hope because that would be wrong.

This is a damn good song. It touches me, and makes me feel something, and it makes me think. I wonder how artists feel when they know something they've done has touched someone else?

Like I've said before, the stuff going down is on different levels. It's not weird. It's scary, and I've got no control. It's not about me. (I know, I know...) From my lips to God's ear, so help me, all I can do is be as strong as I can be, and keep my heart positive, and full of love.

Faith involves trust, and there are times I struggle with that. I'm human, and I love my life, and I am thankful because I am aware that I shouldn't be taking anything for granted. The swift kicks have taught me lessons, but I still get afraid when things are weird.

I'm going to light my coffee-and-vanilla-scented candles, put on the Coldplay, wash my face, get a glass of wine, and take a bath. I'm going to offer up my thoughts and tears, and I'm not going to care what anyone else thinks. I'm going to let go, because I'd never really want that much control.

Sidenote: My bath pillow says "leave me alone". Not quite as public as a doormat that says "go away", but the sentiment is similar, none-the-less.

Positive thoughts and good music to you all.

I'm not sure why I'm completely exhausted, but I am v. tired.

Anyway,

If I had an E-Bay account (no, I've never used E-Bay), I'd get this shirt. In a heartbeat. *sigh*