Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Going back to Cali, stylin', profilin'
My newest adventure will take place in San Jose, CA. I booked a short trip to explore more of northern California to determine if I will take the plunge and relocate. The end of April and beginning of May will be a busy time for me, physically, mentally, and emotionally, as I go from one coast to the other. April showers in Miami versus dry, San Jose mountain air in May: which climate's influence will prevail? Which will be the arbiter of a life-changing decision to find my new home? I can't wait to find out.
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Miami, Miami...you've got style
In fewer than 60 days, I will be in Miami. I've wanted to visit this city for years. I cannot wait to spend idle time on the beach and be back on my beloved east coast. Do you think the pastel, borderline tacky, art deco buildings will dissuade me from pulling up stakes and relocating to this southeastern paradise? I hope not. I hope the cosmopolitan excitement extracts me from my current state of just plain boredom with Dallas.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Cleveland Rocks
No, it really doesn't rock. I can't believe I considered moving there when I was a stupid, newly married 23-year-old. The things we do--or almost do--for love!
I mention Cleveland because I've watched "Hot in Cleveland" all weekend while in bed with the flu (throwing up in the middle of yoga class: not the highlight of my weekend, but hey, I'm not too proud to be self-deprecating). I watched it partly in honor of my mom because she loved this show and recommended it. I've also zipped through the first season because it really is funny and has a great cast: Valerie Bertinelli, who is one of the cutest people ever; Jane Leeves, one of my favorites from "Frasier"; Wendie Malick, who's always witty; and the timeless Betty White.
The show's references to LA, from which three of the characters hail, perpetuate my musings on California. I've been thinking about moving to a new city a lot lately, and San Francisco is one of my top choices. I realize it's ridiculously expensive, I have no acquaintances there, it's 1,500 miles from my closest relatives, and it's prone to earthquakes, but so what? Life is too short to wonder what could have been.
What I hope does not happen is that I end up a slightly bitter, lovelorn cougar who's compelled to start a new life in a midwestern town that is the punchline of so many jokes, and not just the jokes in "Hot in Cleveland." Ha! I'm so mean. Maybe San Francisco will open me up to experiences that aren't portrayed in a 22-minute sitcom. For now, it's still enjoyable to watch it and have some cheap laughs.
I mention Cleveland because I've watched "Hot in Cleveland" all weekend while in bed with the flu (throwing up in the middle of yoga class: not the highlight of my weekend, but hey, I'm not too proud to be self-deprecating). I watched it partly in honor of my mom because she loved this show and recommended it. I've also zipped through the first season because it really is funny and has a great cast: Valerie Bertinelli, who is one of the cutest people ever; Jane Leeves, one of my favorites from "Frasier"; Wendie Malick, who's always witty; and the timeless Betty White.
The show's references to LA, from which three of the characters hail, perpetuate my musings on California. I've been thinking about moving to a new city a lot lately, and San Francisco is one of my top choices. I realize it's ridiculously expensive, I have no acquaintances there, it's 1,500 miles from my closest relatives, and it's prone to earthquakes, but so what? Life is too short to wonder what could have been.
What I hope does not happen is that I end up a slightly bitter, lovelorn cougar who's compelled to start a new life in a midwestern town that is the punchline of so many jokes, and not just the jokes in "Hot in Cleveland." Ha! I'm so mean. Maybe San Francisco will open me up to experiences that aren't portrayed in a 22-minute sitcom. For now, it's still enjoyable to watch it and have some cheap laughs.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
You ought to hear my long snake moan
One of my favorite albums from the ‘90s is PJ Harvey’s To Bring You My Love. Lately, I’ve been putting “Long Snake Moan” on repeat. It’s a ferociously strong and sexual song that defies the waifish appearance of Ms. Harvey. Her desire for control, fueled by violence that pushes her to the brink of murder, turns the tables on the archetype of physically dominant men in the sexual realm.
To Bring You My Love twists and turns through the throes of a tumultuous affair. The narrator bars no holds against a man who evilly seduced her, jilted her, and left her with child. “C’mon Billy” wails the angst of pleading for a lover to stay by a desperate woman’s side. The accompanying string section weaves the agony and longing throughout the tune.
Another standout that saw radio release, “Down by the Water,” reveals the strength of a scorned woman who focuses solely on her young daughter. The narrator defines maternal instinct to the hilt as she goes to the depths of the ocean for her lost daughter.
A woman scorned is not necessarily dangerous but certainly powerful. To Bring You My Love represents the output of ‘90s female musicians as a standout in composition and feeling.
To Bring You My Love twists and turns through the throes of a tumultuous affair. The narrator bars no holds against a man who evilly seduced her, jilted her, and left her with child. “C’mon Billy” wails the angst of pleading for a lover to stay by a desperate woman’s side. The accompanying string section weaves the agony and longing throughout the tune.
Another standout that saw radio release, “Down by the Water,” reveals the strength of a scorned woman who focuses solely on her young daughter. The narrator defines maternal instinct to the hilt as she goes to the depths of the ocean for her lost daughter.
A woman scorned is not necessarily dangerous but certainly powerful. To Bring You My Love represents the output of ‘90s female musicians as a standout in composition and feeling.
Monday, February 18, 2013
Black Metallic
I recently rediscovered “Black Metallic” by Catherine Wheel and immediately fell back in love with its ‘90s ethereal beauty. Heavy distortion, smoky vocals and a hypnotic guitar solo mark this one as an early ‘90s, alternative classic.
The song speaks of the pained struggles of a floundering relationship. A man’s partner has become simply disinterested and disengaged. I often conclude the disinterest by one member of a relationship is more painful to the partner than direct abuse. Neglect hurts more than attack does.
Hearing Catherine Wheel triggered my thoughts of my grandmother, Catherine (not that I don’t think of her on a regular basis). She’s gone into a sudden mental decline since the death of my mother, and she’s all but been diagnosed with dementia. My heart is broken upon witnessing my funny, sharp, engaging grandmother become forgetful and easily agitated. It’s as if she’s a different person. I have to remember that her heart has not turned black, though. She remains the truly amazing grandmother I’ve always remembered.
In keeping with the theme of color of this post, I’d like to mention the wonderful efforts of the Alzheimer’s Association and their purple shirt campaign. I participated in two of the last Walk to End Alzheimer’s in Dallas and wear my purple t-shirt with pride. This year, I’ll walk focused on my grandmother, not out of pity but out of hope for a cure. The blackness of memory loss can be overcome with research and advances in medicine. That hope remains in my heart.
The song speaks of the pained struggles of a floundering relationship. A man’s partner has become simply disinterested and disengaged. I often conclude the disinterest by one member of a relationship is more painful to the partner than direct abuse. Neglect hurts more than attack does.
Hearing Catherine Wheel triggered my thoughts of my grandmother, Catherine (not that I don’t think of her on a regular basis). She’s gone into a sudden mental decline since the death of my mother, and she’s all but been diagnosed with dementia. My heart is broken upon witnessing my funny, sharp, engaging grandmother become forgetful and easily agitated. It’s as if she’s a different person. I have to remember that her heart has not turned black, though. She remains the truly amazing grandmother I’ve always remembered.
In keeping with the theme of color of this post, I’d like to mention the wonderful efforts of the Alzheimer’s Association and their purple shirt campaign. I participated in two of the last Walk to End Alzheimer’s in Dallas and wear my purple t-shirt with pride. This year, I’ll walk focused on my grandmother, not out of pity but out of hope for a cure. The blackness of memory loss can be overcome with research and advances in medicine. That hope remains in my heart.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Friday, January 25, 2013
Adore/Adorn
What level of intensity does adoration necessitate? How much love accompanies adoration? Are things admired meant to be adorned with more than love?
My favorite song of the moment is Miguel's "Adorn." It has a sick beat and lyrics that make me melt. Check it out:
(I can't help but mention I love this singer's hairstyle. I adore Mohawks as well. I don't find them faddish; instead, I find them flattering of appropriately shaped heads.)
I've listened to this song dozens of times over the past month or so as I sift through the rubble of another lost relationship. The man who once called me an amazing woman left me abruptly. His actions remind me that men are great at saying flattering things but not acting accordingly. Fast forward to a weekend in January, when I spent the weekend in San Francisco with an acquaintance I made while on a flight from Connecticut. A guy whose beautiful tattoos and expressions of missing my conversation suckered me into flying halfway across the country to see him ended up ceasing all contact after we left the beautiful city by the bay. Why am I surprised? I am a magnet for guys who view me as good for only one thing.
"Adorn" gives me comfort while making me a bit sad. I wish someone felt about me the way Miguel sings to his love: "You know that I adore you / Let my love adorn you."
In my solitude, I will focus my adoration on my family. The woman who has always been my rock, my grandmother, turned 90 this week. I cherish every life lesson she has bestowed upon me. I adore her wisdom and wit, strength and solace. Her love has adorned my life and will be my focus during this time of what feels like aimless wandering.
My favorite song of the moment is Miguel's "Adorn." It has a sick beat and lyrics that make me melt. Check it out:
I've listened to this song dozens of times over the past month or so as I sift through the rubble of another lost relationship. The man who once called me an amazing woman left me abruptly. His actions remind me that men are great at saying flattering things but not acting accordingly. Fast forward to a weekend in January, when I spent the weekend in San Francisco with an acquaintance I made while on a flight from Connecticut. A guy whose beautiful tattoos and expressions of missing my conversation suckered me into flying halfway across the country to see him ended up ceasing all contact after we left the beautiful city by the bay. Why am I surprised? I am a magnet for guys who view me as good for only one thing.
"Adorn" gives me comfort while making me a bit sad. I wish someone felt about me the way Miguel sings to his love: "You know that I adore you / Let my love adorn you."
In my solitude, I will focus my adoration on my family. The woman who has always been my rock, my grandmother, turned 90 this week. I cherish every life lesson she has bestowed upon me. I adore her wisdom and wit, strength and solace. Her love has adorned my life and will be my focus during this time of what feels like aimless wandering.
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