The Power of Music

Things have been a little stressful at work. I'm slowly accepting that some things simply cannot happen on time, and the world will still continue to turn. Hurts a little, though. Earlier this week I turned my desk music down for a phone call. When I turned it back up, this song was playing from the asterisk. Made me feel better. It's A Better Son/Daughter by Rilo Kiley.

Sometimes in the morning I am petrified and can't move
Awake but cannot open my eyes
And the weight is crushing down on my lungs
I know I can't breathe
And hope someone will save me this time
And your mother's still calling you insane and high
Swearing it's different this time
And you tell her to give in to the demons that possess her
And that god never blessed her insides
Then you hang up the phone and feel badly for upsetting things
And crawl back into bed to dream of a time
When your heart was open wide and you love things just because
Like the sick and dying

*And sometimes when you're on
You're really fucking on
And your friends they sing along
And they love you
But the lows are so extreme
That the good seems fucking cheap
And it teases you for weeks in its absence
But you'll fight and you'll make it through
You'll fake it if you have to
And you'll show up for work with a smile
And you'll be better
You'll be smarter
More grown up and a better daughter or son
And a real good friend
And you'll be awake
You'll be alert
You'll be positive though it hurts
And you'll laugh and embrace all of your friends
And you'll be a real good listener
You'll be honest
You'll be brave
You'll be handsome and you'll be beautiful
You'll be happy

Your ship may be coming in
You're weak but not giving in
To the cries and the wails of the valley below
Your ship may be coming in
You're weak but not giving in
And you'll fight it you'll go out fighting all of them

Bring Your Own Decorations?

Every year my office holds a suite decorating contest around the holidays. A few years back, Horace and I kicked it up about 40 notches when we built a glowing fireplace. It was magnificent. There were lights behind the red tissue paper creating an almost real sense of warmth, and I drew bricks on the cardboard just how I'd learned in my set design class in college. (I knew that theater degree would come in handy!) We sat in front of it with blankets and wine all morning on the day of the holiday party, and I remember being very happy.

In the years since then, competition has been fierce. Dickens Christmas, Candyland, The Grinch, White Trash Christmas, all intense decorating themes with impressive outcomes. But now that I'm older and busier, there's no time for decorating. I am swamped, and so is everyone in my suite. Not to imply that other people aren't busy, but I've been working more than a few 12 hour days, and I can't seem to muster the energy to cut out cardboard or draw pretty scenery.

So we put up a few holiday-themed toys we each had around the house - some singing penguins that shake their tails, a Santa statue, and a small, rubber Bart Simpson figurine. He's wearing a Redskins Santa hat and mooning passers-by. Yes, it's a sweet suite.

Did I mention that there are awards for the best decorated suite in the office? Well there are. Those who truly win the best decorating award get small gift cards of some kind, and pretty much everyone else receives good hearted ridicule. Here is the text from our award, taped outside the suite:

ATTENDANCE AWARD: BYOD (Bring Your Own Decorations)
Congratulations! The penguin tail was cute, so that was something... Maybe you should have taken sick leave today. But thanks for showing up!

I'm so proud.

Stephen Hawking, general sir

I got back last night from Ohio and my Thanksgiving trip. It's weird when you're home long enough for people to feel comfortable easing back into their routine as if you weren't there. Not that I make my family wait on me or anything, it's just weird.

My sister is 17, and we shared a bed while I stayed there last week. She's used to being the cute girl in charge, so when I visit, I feel the need to put her in her place. Especially since my time to do so is limited: pretty soon she'll figure out that she's the talented, driven, pretty, brilliant one in the family, and the rest of us are just goof-offs. Until then, it's my job to keep her humble.

I made her read to me each night. This week she's reading a Stephen Hawking book about all sorts of fun sciencey things. Sure, the thoughts expressed on his pages are pretty interesting, but it's not a book I would have chosen. I digress. Since we're here, let's backtrack.

I watch a mediocre but sometimes momentarily wonderful sitcom called How I Met Your Mother. I recently learned a joke from its writers. Someone uses a phrase such as general idea, corporal punishment, or major disaster. I respond with a small salute, Major Disaster, as if reporting for duty. Yes, silly, but very pun-tastic, which is my favorite.

Back to bedtime. Emily is reading me Stephen Hawking and twice, TWICE in one sitting, he uses the phrase general knowledge. She knows my love for this joke. She pauses, graciously. I'm half asleep, so I don't even notice until her pause that something is up. She says in a fake-grudging way (because you know she wants it as badly as I do), "Go ahead." I use this pause and invitation time to rewind her words and process what she had read. I then bounce up in bed to salute and say in a very disciplinary fashion, "General Knowledge!" We both giggle and return to our weary states, a little happier.

It's a keeper.

Need a pick-me-up?

This must be shared. It's just. So. Good.

CLICK HERE. (No really.)

More specifically, HERE, HERE, and HERE.

And HERE.

And HERE.

And my FAVORITE.

And the Thermos Song!

I could go on and on.

Me 'n my gal

Maggie passed away this year. Another picture I just re-found, and don't want to lose. I miss her. She was the type who was always peppy, loved everyone, barked at strange cars, but then ran behind the house to hide when a stranger actually emerged from one, patient, sweet, and totally hugable.


These were taken when she was having a hard time getting around, but she was determined to climb the steps to the back porch to hang out with us and get her chew toy!

Love you, Mags.

Where's Kermit?

Check out this lily-pad lake in southeastern Ohio. I lived there for eight years and never knew it this was there. It's actually kind of breathtaking. I'm a little late in posting it, as the picture was taken in July, but I'm just going through some pictures now and really like this one. Don't you just want to hop across?

Leadership is hard!

A couple of months ago I was elected president of a local community/international service organization. For the most part, the experience has been exciting, inspirational, time-consuming, and fun. And apparently my oldest-child traits are still in effect, because I like being in charge. However, the democratic process is always challenging. I have one board member who sees things very differently than I do. Not only that, but we have strong cultural differences, and a partial language barrier, so communicating effectively is difficult, not to mention coming to a consensus.

But today we volunteered. And I feel good. And I wouldn't have volunteered today if it weren't for this organization. And I wouldn't have made some new friends, and I wouldn't be learning about my leadership strengths and weaknesses. So it's clearly worth the work, but it is also very hard. I don't quite know how to move forward, so I suppose I'll learn as I go. That's the way it started, right?

Wish me luck!!

Tuvia

My friend told me about a scholar she worked with earlier this year named Tuvia. Friend recently had lunch with him, an older gentleman, and he's the type of person with whom you immediately feel comfortable. Trustworthy. Makes you want to spill your guts, ask for advice. You know the type. He's happy, comfortable, wise, and a good listener.

So he tells this story about a young man and a young woman who notice each other on the bus one day. They sit across from each other, making frequent eye contact. Both want to speak, but are afraid. They hesitate, and eventually part without talking. Both regret their loss. He told it as a fairly sad story, I imagine, but followed up with poignant statements about there being no reason to stop yourself from doing or saying things you feel you should, especially when it's simply fear that's holding you back. Stop waiting for the perfect moment. Say what you mean. Do what you feel. Be who you want to be.

I think we need to hear these things from time to time. I get caught up in day-to-day requirements and sometimes lose track of my larger life priorities. I like to hear these things from these people I admire, and I'm so glad my friend shared it with me.

At the end of lunch he turned to her and said, "Don't be that young woman on the bus."

*sigh*

Remember Joey McIntyre?

I do. I remember him well. Not as well as this chick, but I was pretty sweet on him. And when I look back, I think, "I'm not nearly as silly-obsessive about these things as I used to be. I'm balanced. Healthy. Wise." Yeah, right. I'm 28. Wise is at least 30 years away at best.

I know this because I've had two very humbling experiences in the last week. 1: I went to a wedding of a friend who is both younger and wiser than I. At this wedding, I fell for her brother. Her happily married brother who wouldn't remember my name today if asked. And like a 13-year-old girl, I sulked all evening because I couldn't have this perfect man. Grow up, Duchess! This kind of perspective of one's own idiocy can be painful. Blech. 2: I was inconsiderate to a friend this week. I made an assumption that completely disregarded her feelings (not on purpose! just not thinking...) and she called me on it. So now I feel like the Duchess of assholery instead of cleave. Ew.

Do you ever feel so uncomfortable with a memory you're replaying that you have to get up and move or change the song you're listening to or something? I'm in that mode right now: stagnant discomfort with self. I hate that. But I deserve it, so I guess I just have to let/make myself feel it and deal. Again, ew.

UPDATE: I wrote this earlier today and am now feeling much better. Happy to reminisce about Joey, thinking I resolved things with slighted friend, and full of a delicious belated birthday dinner. Mmmmmm.

Ever been on a cruise?

I went on an Alaskan Cruise with my mom and Grandma through Holland America a couple of years ago. Very pretty, but if I were to do it again, I’d probably want to do a Caribbean or Mediterranean Cruise and be sunny and swimming. However, one thing I never worried about while on board was this. WTF? Should we be worrying about international law enforcement on these cruise lines? Scary!!!!

Turning a corner

I've been pretty careful about the people with whom I share this blog address. I want to be free to write all thoughts without fear of causing rifts or bringing about judgment from loved ones. Every once in a while I hesitate before writing about a subject, keeping in mind who might be reading it. Then I turn a corner and toss that seemingly pointless inhibition right out the window. Corner-turning time!

Friday night I went to a "tupperware" party with some girlfriends. I happened to chat with a long-distance chum of mine earlier that day who needs major replenishments in that department because she had thrown her best bed buddy away out of guilt. (Catholicism rears its ugly head again!) Clearly I shall assist. So tonight I balanced my checkbook and realized that I'm low on cash because I spent all my money on vibrators. Granted, I splurged on the good stuff and got the spinning, multi function guys, which better do some major enhancing. And even though I feel a little foolish for giving up nice lunches out for these toys, I also feel a little empowered in a really secret, dirty, fantastic way. Plus my gynecologist recommended it. Does that mean I can claim it as a tax write-off?

Memory Box

I keep a couple of shoe boxes in my closet with old cards, letters, pictures, scripts, and other things I can't bring myself to toss. Just read the birthday card my dad gave me on my 18th birthday and cried AGAIN. What a softie I am. And I found a note from Sara that I'll quote here:

Annie, It is 2:42pm and this mtg is supposed to end in 20 minutes. I don't think that's going to happen. What carries me through this meeting, you ask? Coronas. The thought of Coronas. Yours truly, LIW.

Now, this might not mean a lot to you sparse readers out there. However, post-work Coronas are quite symbolic for me, and hopefully my old crew. Said crew members are now scattered around the country, but for a few socially perfect years, they were my home. Now I'm experiencing what feels like another transitional phase. We'll see where it leads. Hopefully Italy!

In the meantime, I do have one strong up-side to the transitional thing. I've felt more like myself lately than I have in a long time. Growing up some more, becoming more confident in who I am and who I want to be, etc. Now I just need to find a stronger direction. It'd help if the bills were paid. I feel tied to my decent job and frat-style living situation until I scrape out my debt, but I did that to myself, so I'm not really complaining. There are those moments of cleaning-house-mentality where I want to focus all my energies on paying off my bills so I can move forward with job risks, world traveling, etc. But then I remember that mom's getting married next year, camping costs money, Christmas presents won't buy themselves, and I realize that I'd better do my important living right now while I'm here. Italy will wait.

Back to the world of blogging

I'm really quite bad at this, you know. I sometimes think to myself, "I should write about this. Even just for myself - I think I'd appreciate the memory in case it slips away from me." But no, I lack the regular motivation to write it down. If I felt comfortable doing it at work, that might help in the productivity department, but one can never be sure.

Regardless, let's have a few updates. I just got home from rehearsal. Thank GAWD I grew a brain this year and declined to stage manage this summer's play, but somehow it's still keeping me up quite late. I'm helping with props, which somehow translated into me baking cakes at 1 in the morning on a school night. Honestly, that translation probably came, at least partially, from my own procrastination. Still, I'm a busy girl.

My cousin got married this past weekend. The ceremony was lovely. My mother didn't like it so much because they only mentioned God once in a reading, but that didn't bother me any. Seeing everyone was great. I acquired about 376,452 mosquito bites whilst dancing in the driveway to the big band music, but it was well worth it. Oh! And Emily, Nic, and I rode a limousine back to Grandma's! Then we promptly ate some hot fudge ice cream sundaes before going to bed. Grandma had to call Aunt Helen and con her into changing back from her pajamas to her clothes, but she made it up to the house. Then Dad and I picked up Geno from the late-night receptioneers, after Geno apparently struck out with three women - one of which was married, another a distant (non-blood) relative. Poor boy.

I returned last night, came home without my luggage (arrived today - yay!), left for work this morning at 8am, and haven't stopped since. Until now.

Two more known weddings to come in the next few months: Marissa's in October and Mom's in February. Egad! Where'd my money go!??

Who am I again?

I'm having a mid-mid-life crisis. Age: 27. Mode: freak-out.

I've been working at a non-profit association for about five years. I've been moving pretty steadily up the ladder, and felt especially confident in my most recent request for a promotion. I've been working my arse off, thorough work, lots of extra hours, few complaints, if any. And I submitted a solid proposal for my promotion and pay raise.

Honestly, titles don't mean too much to me, but the significant raises never come without a title change here, so I made it a priority. I laid the groundwork, presented my case. It was received very well by HR.... a month ago. Had to wait until my review to get any formal feedback. It turns out the the ED here doesn't think that any kind of promotion or raise is necessary for my current work.

I am so disappointed. I've never worked this hard. Unlike one month ago, I now feel like I'm wasting my time. What should I be doing? Job-hunting? Getting a master's degree? In WHAT, for God's sake? Where am I going? What am I learning? How am I bettering myself?
How can I move forward?

I'm suddenly stagnant and feel the need for a dramatic change, but have few ideas about the direction. Any life coaches out there looking for pro bono work? My head's a mess.

Cookout

Tonight we had a cookout with the neighbors. Cheeseburgers, pasta salad, mashed potato quesadillas... Yep, you read that right. And they were fantastic! But we also had my ex and his current girlfriend join us. And sit right next to me. Gross.

But I learned that it was ok. I was ok. We were both able to fake pleasant conversation and keep everyone else comfortable. It worked. And for that, I feel a little more mature, a little more over it, and a little proud of myself. Granted, I still want to punch him in the nose, but I figure that's healthy. Don't you?

Italian Picture Time!!!

LIW, you've inspired me to post some pics, as has Ashley with her many adorable blog pictures of Wynn.

So here we go! My brother Geno outside - crap, I can't remember what city! Regardless - great view.



So here's my sister wrapped up in the scarf, which took me almost two years to finish:




Wanna see a big ole' frosted doughnut? Dom is concentrating! (Oh yes, that's nutella on top.)



Sure, sure... there are lots of pretty views and whatnot. But dinner was my favorite:



Handmade fettucine, stuffed gnocchi, dad's homemade pasta sauce, and fresh olive oil on fresh bread. MMMMMMM!

As a final treat, here are Grandma and Grandpa outside the back door with the upstairs neighbors, Francesco and Vincenza:



I mean, seriously. The cuteness factor. Seriously. Can you even TELL which ones are my grandparents? I barely can!

On the Edge

No, I'm not on the edge. However, I just saw the movie with that a-DOR-able Cillian Murphy. I can't take my eyes off of him - he's captivating! That sad, large, orange sweater he wore made him look like a little boy and an in-control flirt/bad boy both at the same time. In fact, the costumes all around were perfect. Not my point, though. All of the acting was wonderful. Performances by Jonathan Jackson and Tricia Vessey were certainly unscoffable. I really paid attention to the film, the stories, the characters, and there was no focus on any film flaws. It also made me think - about myself, my friends, my choices. It made me remember that unusual is so incredibly superior to ordinary. And yet ordinary is so often praised. Those who rise to the height of ordinary - high school football stars, prom queens, gap models, etc. - are celebrated openly in front of adolescents. What a horrible pattern. The troubled, odd, strange folk are those who I feel can really teach me.

I hope we all strive to be kind, hard-working, and smart. I just wish we also hoped to be a little more odd. And don't you LOVE movies that make you think this way?!

Catholic? Not anymore

I was raised Catholic. Mom converted for Dad, and she ended up being more gung-ho than he is. I won't even get into the guilt I had to get over around premarital sex. Still, I kept going back to church, looking for the good messages. The ideas and standards I could use proudly in everyday life. When I realized that the messages I was receiving were more infuriating than inspirational, I finally gave up. I remember the day, too. January 28, 2007. Sure, it had been building up to that day and all, but this was the final straw.

Mom took us to the church we grew up in, and my favorite priest was giving the sermon that day. I was excited. If anybody could pull me back in with the high points of religion (love thy neighbor, spread God's love, do not judge lest.....), then it was Father Tim. He's always been so accepting, focused on the good in people. Not that day. That day he focused on how he did the right thing by shoving religion down his dying brother's throat, and how we should all be so persistent. Persistent about Jesus being the savior, persistent about going to hell if you don't agree, persistent about marriage between a man and a woman, persistent about going to hell if you don't agree, and persistent with that condescending attitude used when pretending not to judge. And that pushed me over into persistence in not being Catholic anymore.

My mother is a good woman. She works hard to do the right thing, and is kind to everyone. Even when she knows she's judging, she doesn't do so outwardly. She is strong in her opinions, but doesn't force them on others. I respect her for that, especially since she wasn't always that accepting, and I challenge her so often. We disagree about politics, social issues, international issues, family issues, and religious issues, though she doesn't really know about that last one. It would make her so sad.

My grandparents are amazing people, too. They go to the same church as my mother. They're kind, silly, hard-working, warm, welcoming, all things which make me proud. Why do they go to this church? It promotes so many things I don't respect. I suppose that issues like birth control and homosexuality don't affect my grandparents directly, so maybe that's why they're not too bothered by some of the opinions of the Catholic Church. And they were raised in a different time, etc. It still irks me a little when I think about it, though. Still, when I do go, I like to sit next to them and sing together. I wish I could find a community where we could sing together like that. I'm just not comfortable in any of the churches I've found.

I have tried a few places. One fun experience was at a Synagogue in Crofton. Little did my friend and I know that we were attending a children's service. She was apologetic, as she invited me, but it actually worked out well. The children's prayer books spell everything out - explain and translate it all. It was informative and heartwarming. All of the Hebrew made it feel pretty unnatural to me, but it was still a pleasant evening. But did you know you have to pay to join a Synagogue? I suppose it's not too far off from the donations you make during the service at a Christian church, but it is optional in the churches. Interesting, no? When I read about Judaism and the reasoning for its traditions, generally I like it. It makes sense. It's community-based, family-based, and respectful. I really like that. I'm nowhere near thinking that I should convert, because I don't feel convinced that it's the end-all be-all Right Way, but I have a lot of respect for the Jewish faith. The ideas behind Christianity are good, but so many bad things have come of it. Judaism, not so much.

Snow angel (that's me!!)

It's almost 1:30am, and I was just outside making a snow angel. That wasn't my purpose when I went outside, mind you, but as we learn, there's often a silver lining. The last half hour went as follows:

1. I glanced outside at 1am to see a snow-covered Arlington and the snow still falling.
2. I remembered that I parked in a snow spot - where they shovel the snow to when they plow.
3. I contemplated what to do for approximately five minutes. Would the snow keep falling? How long would it take for the plows to get around to our parking lot? Would I have time in the morning? I have to pack for Houston and don't have time to deal with retrieving a towed car. Would I be able to sleep properly knowing that my car could be in tow RIGHT NOW? Clearly not.

So. I put on two pairs of pants, four shirts, socks, boots, a hat and coat, and tromped out to move my car to God knows where. Turns out, there was a fresh spot a mere 1/2 block down! Karma is good today.

The car is moved, I step out to head back to the house, when I realize that it's completely quiet and the snowfall is breathtaking. Took a little stroll (stayed on my block - safety girl), then made the cutest snow angel EVER in the driveway to our parking lot. Seriously. If there were a contest for cute snow angels, heh, I wouldn't even be allowed to enter!

After continuing to take in my pretty surroundings, no longer silent because the plows are on the move (helloooooo! sign!), I came back inside only to find that I look aDORable in my little Pekin winter hat. Seriously, I'm a cutie.

All in all, pretty night, pretty girl, pretty nice surprise. Moments like this are sheerly lovable.

It's hard coming home

I miss Italy so much already. And even more so, my family. I had a really rough trip back, complete with delays, mix-ups, and tears. Work is a struggle as I strain to catch up during a very busy time, and I'm lonely suddenly having so much time to myself after spending 24 hours a day with my family. I'm tearing up now thinking about it.

But let's focus on the positive, shall we? I'd intended to be better about updating the blog while I was there so as not to forget anything, but I'm afraid I wasn't diligent enough. Here are some highlights. I'll try to add more as I think of them.

All of the men there walk with their hands held together behind their backs. It's charming. Like they're trying to appear as though they're sizing everything up for some reason. All of the women under 50 wear tight pants and long boots with spiked heels. I don't know how they do it!

I bought knitting supplies for my sister and taught her how to knit. In the store, I wasn't quite sure what to get, and a very sweet Nonna helped me out big time. The only English word she used was "together" when I expressed that I wanted to buy two colors of yarn to use at once. She pointed out that the yarns I picked were made of different materials and helped me find the right needle size. She was amazingly helpful and sweet, even adding up the total for the woman at the register!

I loved walking, sight-seeing, and shopping in the smaller towns. The larger foreign cities are not for me. Too dirty and touristy. I prefer the charm of what feels like a more REAL Italian life. I wasn't very happy in Florence. It was cool (and hard!) to climb up the 400-some steps of the bell tower next to the duomo, which was closed for some kind of construction. Great view, even though my legs were jelly by the time we got back down to the bottom. I was disappointed to find that nobody else wanted to pay to go in the church with me where Michelangelo, Galileo, and Machiavelli are buried. That was our second destination, and I'm afraid I was pretty cranky for the rest of the day, though I kept it to myself.

Although Florence felt a little bit like a bust, I did find a cute, cheap ring from a street vendor, and a fantastic, not-so-cheap leather jacket, which I love. One of the buttons came off yesterday, but I'll sew that sucker back on with some upholstery thread, no problem.

I very much miss the ease of slow Italian time and vacation life. Every day we'd sleep until 9 or so, make breakfast, clean up, go walking, shopping, etc, play some games, cook and eat a little more, play some cards, watch a movie, and go to bed. The perfect life! Dad went to early morning mass a lot. I only went once, but it was nice. Peaceful. I laughed when I heard the line in "While You Were Sleeping," but I think that I, too, prefer to hear mass in a different language. Something about it makes the experience more spiritual for me. Probably because I can interpret the words and actions however I want.

This post is pretty lengthy. Check back for more about Rome, Deruta, the fam, etc. I'm off to cheer up!