Forget it

I've decide to make a post out of a comment I left on tj's blog. I know its kinda cheating...but, my blog, my rules.

In the days before car seats or laws requiring seatbelts, my parents would load me up in the back of our station wagon in my umbrella stoller. In their minds I was secure, buckled in the stroller and housed between the tailgate and the back seat.

One day, after loading me and some groceries in the back of the wagon, my Mom got distracted and somehow made it to the driver's seat without closing the tailgate. We made it through the parking lot without incident. But as soon as Mom tried to turn into traffic, giving the wagon some gas, I was pulled by gravity out of the open tailgate along with the week's groceries. Mom drove on for two blocks before noticing me missing in her rearview. I was unharmed and gathered up by passing motorists.


She is still brought to tears whenever she retells the story, and apologizes to me, like I remember the incident.

You'd think I'd learn from her mistake....but no.
I once forgot about Blaine. That I even had her. I came home from work, poured a glass of wine and watched TV, enjoying an almost eerie calm. Then the phone rang. It was 6:15, and her daycare closed at 6...they wanted to know if I was on my way. I lied and said I was having car trouble, but would be there shortly....talk about feeling like a shit.

A pinch of salt

Last night, Hubs and I took in a movie. We went to see Land of the Dead. Absolutely hilarious! My absolute favorite zombie was Softball girl. A great movie for snorty chortles and eyerolls...very tongue in cheek. I highly recommend it.

Funny thing, we went to the 7:40 show, and when we emerged from the theater at 9:20, it was still light out. Thats one of the cool things about a Pacific Northwest summer...it stays light til almost 10pm.

When we got home, Hubs found two slugs on the front porch. Thay were making sweet, sweet slug love....or at least trying to. Hubs thought it funny to mess with them.
I swear, he's like a six year old! And a mean one at that!

What the hell just happened?

I sat down at 10:30 to peruse my favorite blogs.....then I looked up at the clock and it was 1:15!! Once again, I was sucked into the Blogosphere Void.
Crap.
Maybe its time for an alarm clock or timer....

Symbolism

symbol:
n. Something that represents something else by association, resemblance, or convention, especially a material object used to represent something invisible.



Its just a symbol, folks.

Would those calling for a ban on flag burning also ban the kicking of a ball with a flag on it?

Would the ban include party favors?

To suggest that burning a flag impedes freedom and liberty is just as ludicrous as saying that Liberals are pro-terrorist and un-American. Fucking idiots. What should be illegal is wrapping yourself in it!!

Invoking 9/11

I can't believe he's actually saying IT......AGAIN....

Even after all THIS.

Liar, liar, Dubya...

Bipolar is not a white bear that goes both ways

If you haven't been around this blog, you may not know I'm bipolar. Hell, if you met me on the street I bet you still wouldn't know. That is because the wonder of modern medical science and the invention of mood stabilizers.

Without them, I am a rapid cycler. I could go from the depths of despair one day, to the pinnacle of lunacy the next. Some days I could be the weepy haus frau zoning out to untold hours of snow on the tube. Other days, I am a so high I audibly buzz like a power line, scrubbing the already clean bathtub at 3AM, while simultaneously coloring my hair and alphabetizing my pantry.

Coming back from the darkness is like leaving a movie theater on a bright summer day...you have to squint and shade your eyes until they adjust to the light. Thats what the first few weeks on a new med is like. Entering the light slowly, as not to be consumed by it.

I don't blog about EVERYTHING, so you guys don't really have a complete picture of what is happening to me. Its sort of funny that one of my favorite tv programs is currently addressing my issue....Six Feet Under...I'm like Billy.

I stopped taking my meds a few weeks ago. I know it was stupid. I knew that it would have consequenses. If you are medicated, you might understand...Sometimes you feel stunted, held back, pent up, just not right...I felt slighted by my meds. Like my life would be more fun, I would be more creative, I would get more done without them...

You go off your meds. You rationalize..." A little mania would really help me get some things done around here. "

You know its wrong, because you don't tell anyone. You keep it secret. You think you are okay, you don't need this shit, that its just a crutch....You'll show them...

Everything seems fine for the first few days. You are in control. Then the residual meds in your system wear off. Its kinda like the beginning of a roller coaster ride...traveling slowly up the incline...tickticktick..."This isn't bad at all, its comfortable, down right pleasant...." Then WHOOSH! You are completely at the mercy of the ride.

Well, I've learned my lesson...
Stop the ride, I wanna get off.

*also...Fuck off, Tom Cruise, you don't know shit.

Mother's little helper isn't helping anymore. Even though I've been medicated for almost six years now, I still have my ups and downs. There are times when a drug becomes ineffective and no longer works as intended. This is one of those times. The dark days seem to have arrived in a rush, hitting hard, like a strong gust of wind through an open window that slams a door in the next room. I don't know what triggered it but, whatever it is, it gnaws at me. I am tired and prone to crying jags for no apparent reason. Its just a matter of time before the highs set in and take me on another terrifying ride. I'm a logical person who understands the mechanics of my disease, yet I feel powerless. Its like knowing how a car works, but upon entry to the highway, none of the controls will work for me. The doors and steering wheel lock, the pedals become useless....at this point, I'm just along for the ride.

I believe Bette Davis said it best: "Fasten your seat belts, kids, its going to be a bumpy ride."

What STINKS?

"You smell that? Do you smell that?... Napalm, son. Nothing else in the world smells like that. I love the smell of napalm in the morning. "

~Kilgore in Apocalypse Now



Well, apparently, so does Dubya.

MMmm, Percocet

On Monday morning I hurt myself. Now I feel foolish and old.

I was just laying there when Blaine flopped on the bed to wake me. I was already awake, waiting for the alarm. I said "Good morning, Punk". Then I stretched....that extra hard, long, satisfying, cat kind of stretch.

At the height of said stretch, I felt a white hot burning behind my right ear, followed by a flash of pain down my right arm that made my fingers tingle. I thought I would pass out from the pain. Unable to move my head or right arm, I started to yowl in pain, freaking out Blaine in the process. The pain finally subsided and I tried to get out of bed...bad idea...decide to stay in bed. I assured Blaine that Mom was fine, just a pulled muscle, it would work itself out. She wanted to stay and nurse me, but I made her go to school.

Long story, short:

Hubs hurries home. Takes me to the ER. Several hours and a CAT scan later, we find out that it wasn't a heart attack, brain tumor or pulled muscle, it was a pinched nerve in my neck....from STRETCHING.

How pathetic is that? I injured myself IN BED. And I wasn't even having fun when it happened.

I have been on bed rest and pain killers for 5 days, and am FINALLY feeling better.





At least, I WAS, until I saw the condition of my house.....

She's creepy and she's kooky, mysterious and spooky

I told TJ that I thought it kinda creepy that Blaine reminded me of Wednesday Addams. She also reminds me of a couple other girls.....




Do you see it? Or is it just me?



(Halloween '03)

The Talent Show

Although a subdued song, We're Going To Be Friends ROCKED THE HOUSE!!

The talent show was a big success! It was all very cute. Besides Blaine and her friend, my favorite act was a couple of girls who had a candy store schtick where they got teachers to hold onto a pole.......the punch line was something about two suckers on a stick. Hilarious. There was also a very impressive guitar and drum act(2 sixth grade boys) doing Stay Together For The Kids by Blink182.

All in all, a very enjoyable 30 minutes.

roadie mom

Who would've known that when I got pregnant 12 years ago, I'd be signing on to a roadie gig?

The Talent Show is today. Blaine and her friend are performing We're Going To Be Friends by The White Stripes...its the opening song on Napeoleon Dynamite, for those of you not familiar with it.

I have to take her guitar and amp over to the school before the show. In my wildest dreams I never imagined I'd be a roadie. I feel elevated somehow, to a new level of cool.

I wonder if they will let me do the sound check.

Geov calls out the media

I love it when the home town guys get it right. If you are ever in the Seattle area pick up a Seattle Weekly newspaper. Good stuff. And so on the money. Especially this week. Well said, Geov Parrish!

Low Prices--Always

But at what cost?

Jon Stewart, as usual, funny and on target, had this to say.

Cuz Chix Can Shred...

Got this email today.....only wish we could be there. If any of you bloggers are in the SF Bay Area, go check it out. It will be a good time for a good cause...Rock On!


Hey folks,
Wanted to let you know that Shane and I are throwing a benefit concert for our documentary about the Rock ‘n’ Roll Camp For Girls (http://www.girlsrockcamp.org/) on June 15 at Bottom of the Hill (in San Francisco). It’s gonna be an awe-inspiring mixture of 12 and 13 year old girls shredding madly and some of the hottest local bands that feature women.
We kick things off with The Stingrays, a band made up of famed producer (and punk rock drummer for Crime) Henry Rosenthal’s 13 and 16 year old kids, followed by another preteen/teen girl band, Peach Fuzz. After that, a blinding journey through rock genres from Inspect Her Gagdet, a punk band heading out on the Warped tour, to Rykarda Parasol and her love-child of PJ Harvey and Nick Cave American Gothic band. Heading the night will be the legendary queercore band Tribe 8 (who’ve reunited for the show) and Doll, Doll and Doll Show (women have taken over Gun and Doll Show for the night), two bands that have been f**king s**t up for the better part of a decade.
We’ll also show our trailer, which many of you have been positively yearning to see!
Also note that the show is all-ages, and families are urged to come! One of the really inspiring things about the Rock ‘n’ Roll Camp for Girls is seeing how all these cool families come out and rock together, something you rarely see here in San Francisco.
Also, this might sound delusional, but we’re getting coverage in both the Guardian and the Weekly, so you might actually wanna buy tix in advance at http://www.ticketweb.com/ if you wanna be sure to get in.
I’ll leave you with the words of Leslie Mah of Tribe 8, from an email she sent out to their fans:
“After seeing the trailer for this doc featuring 7 year old girls playing guitar, I was convinced in true punk rock style that we need to dredge ourselves up to play one more benefit... After all I've been thinking about what exactly my generation is leaving behind for all up and coming girls and boys, especially young women, to endure, i.e. The whole Bush stacking the courts with anti-choice homophobes etc...So anyway, creating future rockerbabes is my answer. Please show your support, let's show these aspiring rockers the world needs to be ruled by them.”
Spread the word!
Details:
Wednesday, June 15 Bottom of the Hill 1233 17th Street San Francisco, California
All Ages Doors 8pm $8
Tribe 8 Doll, Doll and Doll Show Rykarda Parasol Inspect Her Gadget Peach Fuzz (12 and 13 year olds!) The Stingrays (13 and 16 year olds!)

-Arne http://www.girlsrockmovie.com/

EXPENSIVE ART

I saw this today at Occidental Park in Seattle.

A portrait of Dubya looks out at you, across the street...glib and sly, with that shit eating grin on his face...
"What the fuck is THAT doing here?!", I ask out loud to nobody in particular. There is a crowd, so I must investigate.

Upon closer inspection, artist Phil Hansen's true artistic intention is revealed...each of the "dots" that makes up the giant newsprint-like portrait is.....
A NAME. Of. a. dead. soldier.

It is a poignant, sad and real commentary on the war.

The picture shown is the best one I could find...I didn't have my camera with me...

If you go to KING5 News and click on "Piece of art makes powerful statement", you can see some video that shows it better.

Best. Shoes. Eva.*hiccup*

Watergate hits home

It was the summer of '74....I was 7 years old....

Amanda, the calico cat, gave birth to a litter of 8 kittens.

My sister, because it was her cat, got to name them.
There were 6 boys and 2 girls.

My sister was an early activist, so she gave them all politically charged names...

1. Ehrlichman
2. Haldeman
3. Spiro
4. J.D.(John Dean)
5. Liddy
6. Baker
7. Martha(Mitchell)...AND
8. Dita(Beard)

I had all but forgotten about the kitten's names until it was brought up in conversation, as Deep Throat's identity has come to light.

Dita was my favorite. She was black with a nose and paws that were white, as though splashed with milk.

My sister begrudgingly gave up the litter 8 weeks later, making those that took the kittens promise to keep their names.

I wonder if they did.

To tell the truth?

What will I tell my daughter about MY life as a teenager? I was a WILD CHILD.

I drank, did drugs and had many lovers. How do I resolve that as a parent? What am I supposed to say to her?

Drugs? Yeah, I did drugs, they were a blast. But you better not try them. That would be wrong.

Sex? It's fun! And you know what? It goes great with the drugs! But you don't need to know that, you won't be having sex. That would be wrong.

Drinking? Of, course! Always in excess....but you won't get into booze. That would be wrong.

Lying? Only to my parents, and always about booze,drugs and sex. And where I was and who I was with. But you won't lie. That would be wrong.

What am I supposed to tell her? The truth? A lie? The truth with a moraled ending? Will she learn from my mistakes? Will she fuck up her life? Do I tell only part truths, leaving out all the sordid details?

Do I tell her that, YES!, you CAN fuck up as a young person and STILL turn out okay? Look! Mommy did it! Or do I tell her that I was just lucky? And she should learn from my mistakes....

I find that hard to swallow, because although I did some outrageous things, even DANGEROUS things......I had a fucking BLAST!

I did things most people don't even dream possible. Met people, went places, did things....most of it was good. And given the oppurtunity, I'd do most of it again! All of who I am now, is a direct result of the crazy life I once led. How could I deny her that? I turned out pretty fucking cool. And happy. How could that be wrong?

None of it....the beautiful lovers, getting arrested, stowing away, jumping on the back of a stranger's Harley, living on the beach for a month, LSD dosed sugar cubes, quitting college, stealing the family car, or ANYTHING ELSE are things I would EVER change about my life. I don't live in regret.

I will tell Blaine all of this, eventually. Each thing will have its own time and place in our conversations about life, learning, and growing up. Its the knowing WHEN to share these things that gives me pause....