Don’t Rain on MY Parade!

It’s nice to be appreciated, isn’t it? I am not one who seeks the spotlight, sometimes, it seeks me. I am always ready to put my best foot forward if need be, though. Not to make anyone else look bad, but to make EVERYONE look good. Know what I mean?

The Oscars were Sunday night, and some people don’t care, and felt like posting to Facebook things like, “This is me, not caring about the Oscars!” with a picture of Julie Andrews twirling in The Sound of Music, though maybe now they should make it Lady Giggles AND IF THEY WATCHED THE DAMNED SHOW THEY’D KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

Seriously, if you don’t dig it, that’s fine. I hate organized sports with a passion with the exception of figure skating (shut up) or the Braves when they’re winning (no seriously, shut up). But I don’t feel like shitting on someone else’s Super Bowl Shuffle, know what I’m saying?

Anyway, it was a perfectly boring show with hardly any surprises unless you count Patty Arquette’s cuckoo for cocoa puffs speech which LOVE, and fyi, I once had the addresses of the entire Arquette clan and don’t ask me how, I’ll never tell but you know what I used to do for a living, and sometimes you aren’t looking for celebs but they pop up anyway, well hello there John C. Reilly, I know where you live, too!

And of course J.K. Simmons said to call your mom, but I did and she was “reading the Bible with her new boyfriend,” I mean, how often do you hear THAT from a 75 year-old, and I can’t even go there right now or I’ll need more therapy.

But you know me, and you know Wes Anderson’s little pic winning all those awards made my heart grow two sizes, but it is still miniature and can be used as a model in his next set design.

SO, if you don’t care, don’t care, but you know, there are lots of people who work in the industry doing things like set design or editing or sound mixing or short films, and don’t they deserve some recognition for hard work? Costume and set designers are my personal heroes, so go fuck yourself if you don’t care. Oops, I did it again.

Let’s look at some pretty clothes, shall we?

keira-knightley-oscars-2015-academy-awards1

ZOMG, Keira Knightly in Valentino – no lie I have this entire collection pinned to my Pinterest pages. Inspired by Marc Chagall, I find this lovely, ethereal, and I wish I looked like this but I don’t and that’s just that but also, the headband, I mean COME ON, people, this is RENN FAIR REALNESS!!

Solange-Knowles-In-Christian-Siriano-2015-Oscars

Solange in Christian Siriano. Oh Chicken (because I call you Chicken, liebling), who knew you’d be the only Project Runway alum with staying power? I guess everyone, but I love Solange, I am team Solange all the way on the elevator, and this is some Studo 54 INSPIRIGANZA, darling, which is a new word I just made up combining INSPIRED and EXTRAVAGANZA, and why am I not writing for RuPaul’s Drag Race, where is my call from the producers?

 

No one else did it for me, although I did love what Chris Kyle’s widow was wearing and I feel kind of creepy even saying that, but still. Green strapless, lovely.

 

So, that’s my little rundown on the big show, and I do it because I do it every year, and if only five people are reading this, well aren’t you all such a lucky five?

In other news, the co-worker from hell is back, and it’s been…..tough. I got nominated for an award for helping out in her absence, and I didn’t ask for the recognition but you know, it’s NICE when you consider the shit I’ve been through these past eight years. And I deserved it. I don’t try and do a good job so I can make you look bad, or because I want your job or want to throw you under the bus.

I do it because that’s my way of helping YOU when you were gone for six weeks smoking cigarettes and looking at the wall, you know? My beloved pet, who is the only child I will ever have, is dying in front of my eyes and I dragged my ass in everyday for extra long shifts not because I’m gunning for your job, but because I don’t want you to worry about this place while you’re gone, I want you to have peace of mind.

Do I want a full time job? Fuck YEAH. But not yours. Another one! Why can’t women appreciate help from other women and not think someone else is trying to replace them? I don’t get it, but maybe that’s because I think a lot like a man?

Anyway, she’s been withholding work from me and this is a person who bitched ad naseum before she was gone about how I wasn’t helping her enough, I was doing too much for the digital team (which I’d been assigned to). Now that they don’t want me on digital anymore, you’d think she’d be delighted I’m ready and willing to chip in. Again, this is the person who kept insisting I was hired JUST FOR HER, when I was told otherwise. My, how the story changes…

Bottom line, I spoke up today, I had to. And nothing will change, because she’s denying it, but I’ve let the higher ups know, and they even said she was a very insecure person who they know feels threatened.

Sigh. I don’t want this. Why can’t I just…..do my fucking job, and do my fucking job? That’s all I want, really.

I have decided that based on all the stupid articles I read and inspirational quotes I see on Pinterest, I can start a new life here at the dawn of my midlife crisis. So I have decided I am going to fashion school or learning to code. Or both.

Now who has $10K for coding school?!

 

Touch and Go

How does one start what I have to say? I guess you just begin at the beginning…

For the past five weeks, I have been working full time. Or rather, 39 hours per week. Because that extra hour would just KILL a budget, laws.

For the past five weeks, I’ve dealt with the fact that this guy is terminally ill with a lung tumor that I don’t have $5,000 to remove. Even if I do work 39 hours a week.

20150118_100032

I just took a break to give him big hugs, kisses and scratchies. I’m back! No, even with extra hours and a nice tax return, I need to put $1,000 into my six-year-old Kia, which needs a new alternator, battery and timing belt.

But I’m lucky it needs those at all. You see, my Kia almost didn’t make it, and neither did I on Tuesday night.

I drive I-95 to work and back everyday. Maybe you’ve heard of it? Every day I drive it feels like the day I might die. Tuesday night, after a grueling 10-hour shift with no break, I drove home on wet, slick and rainy I-95. Midway home, a car drifted into my lane and I had to swerve out or get hit. I wound up hydroplaning and doing a 180 degree turn INTO THE ONCOMING TRAFFIC.

I actually found that You Tube clip when I came home. So you can kind of see what happened.

I thought I was dead. All I could thing was, “My face. My face will be destroyed.” Now, seriously, Tanya, who died and made you Angelina Jolie? I had three stress zits that day, too. And that was my first thought?

But it was. I have been in car accidents before, but never anything like this. All I can think is I was on the fourth of my nine lives (three other car accidents and one heart attack) or God and all his angels were looking out for me. I’ll take either one. I still haven’t processed the whole ordeal. Somehow, the other cars slowed down and didn’t hit me, even going over 60 miles per hour. I didn’t hydroplane anymore and was able to stop. What did the oncoming drivers think? What did they see? Abject terror in my eyes? One of those “Faces of Death!” scenarios?

I’ll never know and I don’t want to think about it anymore. I was able to get onto the shoulder and drive to the nearest exit and gas station, where I panic dialed my husband and put my George Harrison “All Things Must Pass” CD from the library on track 1. My Sweet Lord, indeed!

So. that’s that. Meanwhile, Ringo (the other Beatle in my life) has been doing okay. I really didn’t think he would be here five weeks in. He has a cough, and it’s not getting any better, but he’s still eating, pooping, and playing our favorite game, “My pimp hand is strong,” which is weird and I’ll describe it another time, but you can sing “My pimp hand’s strong!” to the tune of Alt-J’s “Left Hand Free,” and you’ll get the gist, plus it’s a song about my left hand, or feeding hand to the cat. Okay, I’ve said too much. But here, this might help.

Why have I been working such long and insane hours? Because my co-worker, the one who was such a bitter pill I went back to therapy to deal with her (!) had a family emergency. Her not-quite ex-husband committed suicide. The same one she bitched, moaned and complained about all the time.I guess it IS A thin line between love and hate?

We could all see her taking a week off. Shoot, two weeks wasn’t out of the question. But she’s gone into some sort of a tailspin so they advised her to take family medical leave.

Rumor has it she’ll be returning Monday, but we’ve heard that rumor literally EVERY.WEEK. She’ll e-mail the powers that be and say, “I’m coming back!” And then, nothing. Nada.

Do I seem cold? Heartless? I’m not. The first two weeks, I put my shoulder to the grindstone and pushed it all out, because I wanted her to not worry about work.

But during these past several weeks, she’s texted several people, but not me. No thank you, no nothing. It’s not that I expected it, but she’s made such a big deal about how I was hired to help her, even though…..that’s not really the case. And she loves to bark orders at me, even though….she’s not my boss.

And frankly, we’ve all had tragedy in our lives. I have two uncles who committed suicided (one was shocking, the other not) and my father died on Christmas Eve with no will or burial arrangements. Which we had to make on….Christmas Eve. So I’m not going to say “Cry me a river,” but at the same time, as another co-worker said, “Does she think sitting at home and smoking will make it better?”

Bottom line: She is a miserable, unhappy, complaining person who throws EVERYONE under the bus. She has dug her own grave, metaphorically speaking, by telling me she was intimidated by me when I was hired, yet exhibiting this kind of behavior. Because I can get her job done in less time, without help and mistakes. Person after person has come up to me and said, “we’re rooting for you.” To get full time. But I know that probably won’t happen, she’s protected, she’ll come back and drone on and on about how we couldn’t do it without her.

But I’m not going to dance to her tune anymore. If I’ve gotten one thing, it may not be a full time job, but it’s my confidence back. It had been gone a long, long time.

She has arbitrarily changed my hours since I started in September. Not my supervisor, HER. And I changed them back this week. Because I won’t drive at night, and at rush hour if I don’t have to. I’ll help her as much as I can when she returns, but I will not be dragged into her dark web of drama.

Working women in the workplace can be like this

but for me, it’s been a bunch of drama queens and passive aggressors for too long to count.

In honor of me walking away from full frontal accident, here’s what I’ve been watching on repeat. Some sweet, sweet 1980 goodness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Something blue

Happy New Year. I was so excited for 2015 because I really wanted to make some big changes in my life and move forward, and while that hasn’t altered, sometimes you get a little setback along the way.

I’m not going to talk about that now. There will be another post to come on what we are currently going through here at Chez Tanya and Honey, but it involves my little one, Ringo, my kitty, my baby.

Until then, I wanted to finally share my Knitscene Spring 2015 pattern. The issue is in the mail and stores now, and online for digital purchase. I myself went to a Barnes and Noble yesterday (not the one I worked at) to get a copy for my mom. I actually bought it in the café, along with some cookie dough cheesecake of shame (It’s been a week. A bad, bad week). After I finished eating, I went up to the barista and asked, “Does Holly work here?” Holly was the manager at my BN that finally made me so mad I got out while the getting was good. I had heard a rumor that she had transferred to this particular store. “Yes, he said,” “Because I hate her, ” I said. We smiled at each other and I left. Mature? NO. Satisfying? YES.

So, my pattern. The Ashlee Tee. One thing I knew from having my work published in a couple of books was that the powers-that-be rarely let you keep the name. Only one place, Unique Sheep, has let me. So, this was originally called The Inlet Coverup. I think they gave names of pop stars for my “section” on big cables, like Katy and Colbie. I pray my pattern is not named after jig-dancing Ashlee Simpson, but one never knows. Please Knitscene editors: Love me. Because I love you! Seriously, I really do. This entire process was a joy from start to finish, except the parts where I was on the carpet crying because I’d had to frog something. Knitters know: this happens.

Jupiter Inlet Lighthouse

The Jupiter Inlet (with our Jupiter Lighthouse in the background) was my jumping off point for this pattern. I wanted to capture the color of Jupiter’s waters, a place I played as a child. I pictured someone  in wearing a loose, big gauge knit coverup over their bikini.

Knitscene-Spring-2015-Cables-0017_small2

Knitscene/Harper Point Photography

The first thing I’d say is I love the styling story. This was clearly photographed in a  pinball arcade, and I approve! I grew up in video game/pinball arcades. No one could tilt the machines like me!

 

Knitscene-Spring-2015-Cables-0027_small2

Knitscene/Harper Point Photography

The theme was big cables, and I love a big cable. HOWEVER: I originally intended to do a drunken cable, but Miss Left-Handed Backwards Knitter came up with something ele. I still love the look, though. The band is sewn on as an afterthought: I did this on purpose, because it gives the top more of a blouson effect. And yes, this is seamed, not in-the-round. As a knitter with a big bust, I feel that seams give me more garment stability. Could you convert this to in-the-round? Yes, but that was not my preference or intention. To each his own, though!

Knitscene-Spring-2015-Cables-0030_small2

Knitscene/Harper Point Photography

Can I just saw the models are gorgeous? They always are, but this lady is everything. She is giving us Diana Prince realness and I am HERE for it!

Knitscene-Spring-2015-Cables-0025_small2

Knitscene/Harper Point Photography

The back is the same as the front: You get a nice, loose U-neck with my design, which is what I was going for. To finish I did a bit of slip stitch crochet around the armholes and neckline. The yarn is Berroco Maya, and I stand by my love of the brand. In my years working in the yarn biz, they were always a dream to deal with on the phone, and their rep was a sweetheart as well. I like a good, mid-priced yarn that you won’t go broke using, but that continually comes up with new ideas every year to stay fashionable, with current color palettes.

I hope folks like this. I’ve already had 43 likes on Ravelry, and that makes me very happy. I wish I had been able to enjoy this accomplishment a little more, but coupled with working overtime this week and Ringo’s health, it’s been difficult. But to have my mother, husband and friends share their pride in me, well, that has been priceless. Thank you.

 

 

My favorite music of 2014 was weird and contained multitudes. Just like me.

I thought I bought a lot more music than I actually did this year! Turns out I just downloaded a lot of free singles off iTunes and ripped a lot of Mozart, Bach and Ricky Skaggs from the library. But since those were two of my money-saving tips, you’re welcome!

Here’s what I downloaded, bought in CD form (if I could have found albums, you know I would have gone there, but the last album on vinyl I bought new was Scarlett Johannson’s Tom Waits’ cover album from a few years back. No, I’m not in love with her, but I do like her singing ventures).

Lullaby and the Ceaseless Roar – Robert Plant

I love Handsome Bob but hate Led Zep. I know, right? I was very saddened to hear his marriage to Patti Griffith dissolved. When we saw them both in concert a few years back, the chemistry on stage was electric. Oh well. I love this album, I love Bob’s appreciation for music from all over the world and across all centuries, and his desire to not relive his past. I think being curious is one of the greatest things a person can be. Jimmy Page, who looks like a too-well preserved Robert Evans crossed with a smoked ham, needs to take notes. As for John Paul Jones, holy shit I met him in a Fort Lauderdale parking lot more than ten years ago. I wish the gent nothing but the best!  Also, Glastonbury is on my bucket list. Before 50. I swear.

Aquarius – Tinnashe

One of the best songs and lyrics of the year…”Pretend.”

Let’s pretend we never met.

A good excuse to play forget.

Damn girl. That’s poetry. For all your west coast dreams….

Stay Gold – First Aid Kit

Omygawd they are so adorable. If Ann And Nancy Wilson grew up in Scandinavia and only listened to Emmylou Harris and wore clothes from Free People, they would be these two sisters. Precious. This is one of my favorite album cuts. In all seriousness, I am sad that they only played Orlando in FL. I so wanted to see them.

This is All Yours – Alt J

There is a song on this album called “The Gospel of John Hurt.” We’re done here, right? Okay, it has the weirdest cover of Bill Withers’ “Lovely Day” tacked on the end. So there. Although I have nothing against “Left Hand Free,” I give you “Every Other Freckle” instead. Because kittens.

Hypnotic Eye – Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

How could I leave TP off the list? I couldn’t. Especially when he’s THIS ornery. My friend was at the show this one is taken from. Even though I’ve seen TP dozens of time, I kind of hate her. Being poor is a hoot.

Jungle

If The Brothers Johnson and The Stereo MCs had a baby, it would sound like this. Look it up. “Busy Earnin'” got a little more play, but this is one of my favorite videos of the year. This child is FIERCE.

Kylie Minoque – Kiss Me Once

I like sex when it has a sense of humor. And thus, I give you….”Sexcercize.” A worthy successor to fellow Aussie Olivia Newton John’s “Physical,” wouldn’t you agree? Also, this woman is my age and has survived breast cancer. I love Kylie, and don’t care who knows it. Best elliptical music ever!

2ne1 – Crush

The album I listened most to this year. Why? I don’t know. Because they are like the Korean Spice Girls? Lord Jesus, I don’t know. When I sat in my THIRD job of the year, working with people I’d worked with eight years ago and no one would talk to me, I listened to this on repeat. I kind of wish no one would talk to me where I sit now. FACT: I’ve looked up all the lyrics in Korean and learned to sing them phonetically. I even know what some of the Korean words mean.

Ah hell. One just isn’t enough!

And for my fever dreams of 1979, I present my favorite video of the year, and a few words on it,

here

and here.

Xanadu crossed with Lost Highway. Indeed.

My favorite movies of 2014 were all metaphors for the modern workplace.

Honey and I don’t go to as many movies as we used to. It makes me a little sad. I think it is hard for us to agree on what to see, even though I try very hard not to take him to every depressing Scandinavian film out there. In fact, I never even attempted to take him to Force Majeure, so there!

As for watching them at home, he will invariably fall asleep, so it’s not even worth it. I have my knitting to keep me awake, not that I expect him to take up knitting. Maybe stamp collecting? I don’t know what the answer is. Again, it makes me sad, since movies are very important to me, to who I am and what I am about.

And so it is with very little fanfare (because who really gives a shit but me?) that I present my favorite movies of 2014. Please understand, there are a lot of things I didn’t see and really wanted to, such as Inherent Vice, The Babadook and Whiplash. I think I will still have a chance anon.

As for what I did see, it’s a mix of high and low. And EVERYTHING IS A METAPHOR FOR THE MODERN WORKPLACE. You have been warned! In no particular order:

Guardians of the Galaxy

If you had told me that the best-selling film soundtrack of the year would have a Rupert Holmes song on it, from AN ALBUM I BOUGHT AT AGE TWELVE BECAUSE I WAS THE WEIRDEST KID EVER! I would have said, please pass the crack pipe, I need another puff. Frankly, I don’t know what brought me more joy: Watching Chris Pratt dance to Redbone or Dancing Baby Groot. Ah hell, I know the answer.

The Lego Movie

Again with the Chris Pratt, right? Frankly, Anna Farris needs to keep her man on lockdown or the whole world will steal him. FACT: I got a Cloud Cuckoo Land Lego Set for Christmas. I don’t know why it came with two pairs of handcuffs, but I guess Emmet and Wyldestyle are into some pretty interesting shit. Save your fifty shades of whatever jokes for next year! Also: Honey and I have watched the video below about 100 times. He will watch a You Tube Clip for days, I can at least say that for him.

Under the Skin

Body horror by Jonathan Glazer for the win! This movie haunts my dreams. The diegetic soundtrack plays in my head. In a perfect world, this almost wordless performance by Scarlett Johannson would get an Oscar nod. What does it really mean to be human? Sometimes, I don’t know. For the boys: Yes she’s nekkid. For the ladies: It’s nice to see a woman with a natural rack and ass for a change, amirite?

Snowpiercer

I waited a long time to see this but it was so worth it. One of the most original, well-designed science fiction films since Blade Runner, and that’s like another ice age ago. I hope Chris Evans isn’t really done with acting, because this was the kind of action hero I could get behind.

Love is Strange

I have a deep twisted fantasy about Alfred Molina, and the less I say about that the better. But this movie was quiet, and simple and the end was devastating and beautiful and hopeful in a way I didn’t anticipate. A beautiful soundtrack of Chopin etudes. And really, two performances that earlier in the summer I thought might get remembered at awards time, but know now won’t with the exception of the Independent Spirit awards.

What really happens when a job with benefits is taken away from you.. .Really people, this movie is a metaphor for the modern workplace.

Only Lovers Left Alive

What’s that you say, the most romantic movie of the year will have Tom Hiddleston and SWINTON as sexy vampires and be languidly directed by Jim Jarmusch! Mais bien sur!

Nightcrawler

And the number one movie of the year for Tanya that was a metaphor for the modern workplace WAS A METAPHOR FOR THE MODERN WORKPLACE! Who am I? I’m a hard worker. I set goals. And I’ve been told I am persistent.

Some of the best nighttime cinematography of L.A. I’ve seen in a while.  Some of the best L.A. auto chases since To Live and Die in L.A. Also, Riz Ahmed’s performance as Rick was a textbook example of what it was like to look for a job in 2014. I speak truth.

 

Next time, Tanya’s mix of K-Pop, hood rat soul and rock from 2014!

Short People and My Friend Katie.

I heard “Short People” on the radio last week in my car on the way to work and started to bawl. I’m a Randy Newman fan, but what gives?

I clearly try to post once a month, and with four blissful days off, probably the last I’ll have until I get a full-time job that offers me vacation time, I may post more than once over the next week. Believe it!

Friends, I have had four jobs in the past year. If I was 21, I could understand, but we all know I’m 47. It’s been a year, which I say every year, but man, it really has.

It’s Christmas Eve, and I want to go off the deep end a little and tell you something personal that has made me pretty blue this holiday. Not that I need an excuse — as I told my therapist, I’m one of those Charlie Brown-types, writ large.

Christmas cards. We get them, still,  maybe a dribble or two. Not the way we used to. I get it. That’s not my issue.  I did buy cards this year, and I sent them out. They were darling Victorian cut-out cards with cats that looked like Ringo. How could I resist?

If I don’t get many back, it’s okay. I understand, and frankly, this is probably going to be the last year I do except for my mother and aunt and uncle. Immediate family.

Because we have the Internet. Because the Internet, right? But sometimes, old friends may still be in our address books but not on our Facebook friends list.

I was going through my old pink address book (which I keep meaning to update, I mean, I got a new book and everything — and don’t even suggest I do it electronically because that just doesn’t work for me) and found a listing for my friend Kate.

I hadn’t heard from Kate in about eight years. I’d tried to find her on Facebook, but never could. Kate lived in California, the Valley to be exact.

How was she my friend? Well, it’s because the Internet. Many years ago, back in the dark ages of Bravenet forums, we met up with some other like-minded folks on a Tom Petty fan forum. A core group of us got close, broke off and formed our own private board, and stayed in touch. We did things like make mix tapes — where one person would put two songs on it and then mail it to the next person until we all filled the tape and then everyone got a copy. Many of us met up across the country at one time or another. I went to a concert in Reno with a fellow who I last saw on CBS’ 48 Hours. As a reporter, not a subject, thankfully!

When I managed to get on Jeopardy! in 2000, Kate offered me a place to stay and stuff to do. Although I ended up in a hotel with my family (oh laws, that’s a story for another day), we spent a Friday night at the Pickwick Pub and then crashed at the tackiest, most 1970s’ Holiday Inn. When even brought Valley of the Dolls-style nighties and cheap wine. The concierge, Skippy, brought the Pepto Bismol. Bless his heart, he really did.

She introduced me to her friend who worked in a famous recording studio, and I took a tour. I even snuck around the room where the British band Travis was recording their Invisible Band album. I have the photos to prove it, me looking guilty but giddy.

Scan 1

My legendary Supergrass shirt…..

 

And she took me to the Disney Studios for lunch, which was phenomenal. Yes, I saw a few famous folks out of the corner of my eye. Her husband, you see, was an animator there.

Scan 2

Me and my Ian Hunter hair. I had a black eye from an accident with the note’s soapdish, that was conveniently at EYE LEVEL. Thus, the shades.

Scan 3

My beautiful friend, Katie.

For years after my trip to Los Angeles, I got Christmas cards from her, all hand-drawn by her husband. And because her husband was a member of the Motion Picture Academy of Arts and Sciences, I got screeners of Oscar-worthy films, too! On VHS, but this was a while back.

We lost touch, as people do. No more Christmas cards exchanged. And then I saw it, her name in my pink book. I thought I’d give finding her one more try. After all the skills I learned researching people, and the fact that I can spy on my ex college-boyfriend and his wife at any time on Facebook (Shhh, don’t tell. I have a problem. I know. Oh, and my other college ex. He’s a holy roller bicyclist for Jesus. I can’t make this stuff up, folks).

Well, my skills are still sharp. I remembered her home, because I had been there, and it was still listed with her and her husband as owners. And then I did some more digging and found it.

The obituary notice.

She died in March of last year after a “short but difficult” bout with stomach cancer.

And I literally put my head in my hands in disbelief.

This happened over Thanksgiving weekend, my last four-day weekend before this one. It was not a good weekend.

The last time I saw my father alive and coherent was Thanksgiving 2012.

Last year I did not have Thanksgiving with my mother because of issues with my sister. This year, my husband had to work so I went up to mom’s alone. We roasted two chicken breasts and made some stuffing. But during dinner she brought up what to do when she died, and I just lost it. Because it wasn’t the time, you know? And we hashed it out and actually came to a good place in our relationship, but it was a tough, tough day and night.

And then I found out Kate had died. I won’t tell you about my fall in the tub and bruised tibia that closed out the weekend. Enough is enough isn’t just a decades old disco tune, amirite?

So anyway, I’ve been thinking about old friends lately, and thinking about a sweet girl who I met on the Internet and who I spent a fabulous, life-changing week with. I will always be thankful for her friendship, no matter how brief. I will always think of her fondly, and as much as I’m sure her family and close friends miss her, I hope she knows that someone else does, too.

And whenever I remember the night that Randy Newman finally won his Oscar, I’ll also recall that she was there, and cheering and hooting the loudest for him, since she was high school friends with his wife.

Music has always held an important place in my life, so that’s why when I heard a song that reminding me of an occasion it reminded me of a friend.

I’ll post more this weekend, on silly stuff like my favorite movies and music of 2014, and my goals — we’re calling them GOALS, for the new year.

Just remember, as I did, that every connection is meaningful. As we grow closer together through technology, we also grow farther and farther apart.

 

 

Dark Entries

Trying super hard to keep up my raging schedule of posting once a month. Sometimes, it’s tough.

After the high of Stitch Rock, it was back to life, back to reality. What is Soul II Soul? I digress.

Kids, they say you can’t go back. They say lots of things, let’s be honest. But I think going back to the paper was another in my long line of BAD IDEAS. All caps are necessary, don’t you know.

Not bad as in “I’m ready to jump, like I was at the job in January where I was humiliated, bullied and yelled at on a daily basis.” Nope, not that bad!

But bad in that I’m spinning my wheels. I work five hours a day. Twenty-five hours a week. At first, it was nine till two. Then, it became ten to three. Now, it’s noon to five and frankly, that sucks.

Here is a sweater I made for a college chum (I did charge her, though — I’m easy, but I’m not cheap!) to take your mind off the pain.

PicMonkey Collage

It’s called Blish (stupid name, amirite?) It’s a Norah Gaughan joint from Berroco, and it took a long damn time but was worth it. I really like it, it’s in my lover, Fisherman’s Wool by Lion Brand, and it fits her and suits her in her snow-filled climate.

Back at my day job, life continues apace. My best friend and the only one I talk to there broke his shoulder (!) and now he’s out for an indefinite period. Don’t worry, he still sends texts laced with his pain-medication ramblings, and I’ll sit at night and simultaneously knit, watch Ink Master (does this season suck, or what?) and reply to him whilst my husband works late and six days a week. Ain’t much of a life, but I’m living it.

See, here’s the thing: When I was hired, I was specifically told I wouldn’t be working with a certain person. I didn’t ask, I was told. And I was happy to hear that, because if I’d known the tide would turn and I WOULD be working with that person, I’d have taken the job at the fertilizer broker. Seriously.

She’s not a mean or bad person. She’s just a total flibbertigibbet who has her head up her arse and sends me panicked e-mails all day about things she’s told me NOTHING ABOUT, so I’m left to try to decipher the runes she throws me. Also, she smells like mothballs and has scabs all over her face, and wears weird necklaces that look like anal beads. Is it wrong that I said that?

I was at a party recently with an old friend who used to work with her and another one who currently does. My old buddy said, “Oh, just make sure to tell her how awesome she looks everyday, how whatever rag she’s wearing is the most stunning thing you’ve ever seen, and you’ll be great!”

But see, I CAN’T do that, because she is the definition of a hawt mess. Yes, I meant to spell it that way! Yesterday she had the anal beads and some psychedelic relic tunic from the rejected Grace Slick collection. Everyone told her she looked fabulous. I make an effort to look good everyday, and I get compliments from strangers, shop clerks, and people at my development. I have not once been paid a compliment by anyone I work with.

I just thought I’d mention that before I buy the anal beads necklace to try and fit in. Oh god, the search engine on this entry will blow up.

I’m going to stop bitching about work now. I applied for another job yesterday (shocking, right?). And my husband and I keep telling ourselves….One more year. One more year. One more year and we’ll move away from SoFla and do what? I don’t know. But it’s good to have a goal. We signed our lease and it runs out in January of 2016. That’s another Olympiad year! If Brazil can do it, so can we. I want to make it happen.

We are both desperately unhappy. We both need new jobs. The fact that we work at the same place (again) isn’t the negative factor you think it might be, in that one of us might as well be working on Mars for all the contact we have. Different departments, different lives. But they both suck. He works ten to twelve hour days, or more, six days a week. We barely see each other. And it didn’t used to be that way. Frankly, I blame “Ameriker,” but that’s another rant for another day and includes my thoughts about Taylor Swift, Kim K, Fifty Shades of Stupid, right wing whack jobs AND liberal idiots, and the fact fact that women wear eyeliner that looks like a Sharpie marker landed on their face. Frankly, I just don’t have the energy to go there right now.

Hey, I read a book. I read several! I am almost at my Goodreads goal of 52 for the year. That’s a book a week, but not really, because some weeks I read three and some weeks I read….none. And I confess, four of the 52 have been graphic novels, but they count, damn it, especially when three of the four are arcane growing-up-in Korea memoirs. It ain’t like I’m reading Archie and Jughead here.

This week I was delighted to get this little nugget on my Kindle.

david-j-book

Oh David. You are such a raconteur. I just wish you hadn’t gone on too much about your experiments in the occult and “magick,” your spelling, not mine. Not that I disapprove, I just find it all kind of silly, and once you start playing with toilet paper angels at Alan Moore’s house (as one does, I guess?) I kind of tune out. But when you are detailing the poncey idiocy and general assiness of one Mr. Peter Murphy, well, the book comes alive. I still don’t know why your guitarist from Bauhaus AND Love and Rockets, Daniel Ash, tried to beat me up with a mike stand back in 1986 in an underground cafeteria in Athens, GA, but I guess I never will. My old college boyfriend used to say “She Drives Me Crazy” by the Fine Young Cannibals was written about me. I get it. I’m difficult. Still, it was a moment, amririte? Just like the toilet paper angels, my friends. Just like the angels.

If you were a former goth girl like me, or you just love music memoirs, give this one a try. I saw Bauhaus AND Love and Rockets a combined five times in the eighties and nineties, and I’m so thankful I did. These poor kids today and their Marroon 5.

Until later!