Poem Is Me -- Part Deux

Hi all,

For lack of an original post, I figured I'd put another poem of mine "out there" for scrutiny and mocking :) Two of my favorite pasttimes for sure! BTW...it's sunny AND warm here in Chi-town today. Explains those winged pigs I spotted outside my window earlier. Happy reading!

Green B out :)

All Sales Final
You didn't know
I was a knockoff
a copy of the designer
original
almost as good but
not quite
the quality lower
the mechanism slower
a bargain for
a bargain price

Buyer beware
that's what mom said
and the consumer
should heed such
warnings
all sales final
how could I know
you'd fall
hard and fast
for the deal of a lifetime

Things That Make You Go Boo

So...I'm watching "Into the Wild" right now (and LOVING IT, btw, though it is depressing to say the least!) and it occurs to me that giving up every material thing and leaving everyone I know would terrify me. Which naturally led me to thinking of what else scares me in this world, and of course caused me to ponder what scares everyone else. The funny thing is, I'm not afraid of most of what scares my friends -- I love the dark (in fact, I watch most of the scary movies I see in the dark...alone), I love heights (I've bungee-jumped and LOVE all roller coasters at Great America), and I'm perfectly content being alone. Still, I do have few fears (not "frog fear" like Willow from Buffy, but a few trepidations nonetheless). I'll show you mine...I just hope at least one person shows me theirs :)

• Facials -- I'd never had one before. Last summer I went with a group of female family members for a spa day. I must note that in the past few years I've somehow developed a heightend sense of anxiety due to stress. Typically I don't notice adverse effects. Ironically, the one activity meant to relax me and reduce my stress turned out to freak me out. After the inital facial cleansing, the facilist (or whatever the correct term is for a person who gives you a facial) placed a warm towel over my face...completely covering it. For some reason, when she put the towel on my face, I had a panic attack...all of a sudden I couldn't breathe and I literally jumped out of the chair while at the same time shaking the towel off my face. I am now truly afraid of facials and will NEVER have one again.
• Spiders -- I don't jump on chairs or anything...but I'm scared of them IF I CAN'T IMMEDIATELY KILL them. See, if I spot a spider and it then escapes my line of vision, I am afraid of where it has gone and when it will next appear...I imagine it finding its way to my bedroom while I'm sleeping...and that skeeves me out!
• Being a passenger in the front seat of a car -- back in college, a friend of mine took a left turn too fast and hit a tree...on the passenger side. Since then, I've been a less than ideal co-pilot in driving situations. I don't call shot-gun. I prefer the back seat. If I'm forced to be a front-seat passenger, I tend to close my eyes a lot. And I do have curb fear!!
• My breathing, of late -- last summer I had this weird heart/breathing thing happen where my heart began beating irregularly and my breath caught in my throat. Luckily, the heartbeat thing never happened again. But breathing weirdness happened a few months back again, and the dr. said there isn't anything wrong and that it was probably anxiety. But I doubt that...because since then I've had some mondo stressful situations where no breathing issues surfaced, and alternately as things have become less stressful, I've started to notice what I call "breathing blips" again. These freak me out because every time it happens I think "not yet...I'm not ready to stop breathing" (which in my mind translates to not being ready to not live more). Which segues nicely into my final fear...
• Life -- for some reason, I'm afraid to just go out there and "live out loud." I am my own worst enemy. I hold myself back. I scare myself :) Boo!

Ok...so what are you afraid of? I'd love to hear about it! Happy rainy Saturday in Chi-town, folks. Green B goin' bye-bye. Catch you on the flip-side.

GB

Leaving On a Jetplane...

Ok, so I'm not leaving on a jetplane. I'm leaving on an American Airlines domestic flight. And I'm not leaving until May 2nd. But I am leaving. And I'm going to Arizona for four glorious, warm, non-crappy weather filled days. I can't wait. This winter, and now this spring, has been kicking my butt! I (naively) thought that surely by mid-April this crazy, punishing Chicago weather would relent...but alas, no such luck. So, to all those with seasonal affective disorder...I feel your pain. Shout out. Hey ya! I'm actually listening to my playlist labeled "blah," if that helps describe my state of mind. Sure, there was a bit of sunshine today...with 40-degree temperatures. So far '08 is turning out to be a lose-lose proposition (at least weatherwise). So, I say proudly, I can't wait to visit my childhood friend of 28 years in Tucson...because it's been 8 years since I saw her last, and because she lives in the warm place. Where smiles and sunshine abound. Lovely :)

This past weekend I watched "Sweeney Todd" on DVD. I was totally excited to see it...which is why I can't believe I'm saying this...I was bored by it! I never thought a movie-musical about a cute, murderous barber in England would could ever be boring. But I found it a snooze-fest. And this is coming from a gal who loves all things dark, scary, mysterious and horror-filled. Oh, and all things sarcastic, cheeky and musical. Maybe everyone else loved it. Maybe I'm crazy. But I'll take Johnny Depp in Pirates any day!

This past weekend I also saw the musical JERSEY BOYS. It rocked!!! I loved it...and I want to see it about 10 more times (ok, maybe two more times...I'm not made of money). It was the first musical I've seen where I haven't been bored at all. Yes, I admit, there were moments of boredom when I saw CATS (in '85...oy), PHANTOM, and LION KING. I still need to see Wicked...that's on my to-do list. Along with getting a tattoo one day. We'll see which one happens first ;)

Right now I'm reading Diablo Cody's (screenwriter of Juno, Chicagoland native) autobiography of her year spent stripping in Minnesota (I know, BRRRR, right?) and it rocks. She has the best "voice" I've read in a long time. Snarky, funny, honest and a bit woeful. Love it. Thank you, Stacey K., for lending it to me!

That's really all the aimless rambling I had in mind for this post. Although I do have to say that I was doing laundry this weekend (major miracle, but not the point...see, I have to go outside to access the wondrous cleaning machines) and when I opened my back door, I spooked a squirrel who was, for some reason, hanging out on the stairwell railing. See...I DO have squirrel karma. I'd really rather have millionaire karma, but a gal's gotta take what she can and work with it. Next month is the SATC movie...another tangent...but SO worth it. Cannot wait!!! But, if Carrie and Big don't end up together I'm gonna be one cross bee, I tell ya. Not to be confused with a Crosby. That ain't nowhere near me.

Happy almost tax-deadline day. I sit next to accountants...believe me, even I'm looking forward to 4/15!!!

Peace, love and chocolate :)

GB flying away (well, soon)

I Have Squirrel Karma

I'm convinced my karma, or at least my brain, is inextricably skewed towared squirrels. I have no idea why my mind has wandered down this particular fluffy-tailed path of thought on this particular bloggin evening, other than I must have just thought back to my latest "squirrel-involved tall tale" from last week (more on that below), and realized that squirrels have somehow become a theme with me (better than hedgehogs, I guess). Consider the following:

• EXHIBIT A: The Joyriding Squirrel -- long ago (about 9 years back) in a land far away (Northbrook, or thereabouts) my beau and I took a shortcut (read: we took a longer route to avoid paying for parking) through the woods surrounding the Botanic Gardens in order to gain entry sans parting with our much-valued money. In so doing, we were forced to climb, scramble and jump over many fallen logs and various other forest-like debris. Following a lovely afternoon spent staring at flora, fauna and the occasional goose, we made our way back to the car, where, at said moment, my beau discovered that his car keys were not in his pocket, where he had previously placed them. Long-story-short...they had fallen out of his pocket somewhere in the woods during our stealth garden-entry maneuvering escape. I was forced to drive him back downtown to get his spare keys, then all the way back to his car. On the drive back, I surmised that his car would probably be gone. When questioned as to how I arrived at this interesting (insane) conclusion, I responded that I believed a squirrel most likely found his keys in the woods, and somehow has made its way to the parking lot where his Jeep was currently chilling. Of course, the squirrel tried all the locks of all the cars (this was pre-remote keyless entry) and upon successfully gaining access to his four-wheel-drive wonder, cranked the engine and raced out to 294...swerving and speeding, as almost all squirrels tend to do, heading up north to Wisconsin where an underaged squirrel (he was only 2 in squirrel years -- the fact that there is no such thing as "squirrel years" did not phase me...and of course, this was the only weird part of my tale) can party in style. That was my story. Of course, the Jeep was there when we got back. And somehow my now ex-beau did not have me committed to a little padded cell at that very moment. His bad.
• EXHIBIT B: Wheeling Squirrels Are Crazy:Part 1 -- Prior to living in Evanston, I inhabited this glorious eutopia commonly referred to as Wheeling, IL. Such splendid strip malls, manufacturing plants and apartment complexes I never did see. Ah, but I digress. In my particular apartmental paradise, I had the pleasure on living in a first floor apartment overlooking scenic "Parking lot C"...with a first-rate view of the dumpster. Anywho, since the parking lot was essentially the view out my living room patio, I couldn't help but observe my parked car, and the cars of my neighbors, right there in front of my face. Well, this curious thing would happen when the weather warmed and the squirrels began to run free. The squirrels would gather a good 20 or 30 feet in front of the parked cars (on the lawn in front of my patio, in fact) and then one by one would take a running leap at my car (or those right by it). They would run right at the hood of a car as fast as their fluffly little feet would carry them over the un-mowed grass, then leap onto the hood. I believe their ultimate goal was to leap far enough to get to the windshield and then scurry onto the roof (as one or two actually achieved this lofty goal). The thing was, most of the squirrels landed (flat on their bellies with all four feet/paws/whatever splayed out, I must add!) about halfway up the hood of whichever car they'd chosen, and then slid right back down the front of the hood...over the fender...and back to the grass. I kid you not. It was like watching a real-life road runner cartoon, minus the coyote and the Acme products. To this day, I'm convinced it was some strange squirrel gang initiation of some sort...if they made it to the roof they were official "fluff brothers" or something like that. Word (yes, I am a dork, and I'm ok with that).
• EXHIBIT C: Wheeling Squirrels Are Crazy: Part 2 -- So not only did the Wheeling squirrels take running leaps at parked cars. They took them at my sliding door screen. Yep. You read right. I'd be sitting in my living room watching TV and sense movement out of the corner of my eye. I'd look out the window in time to see a squirrel running at me, full tilt. And at the last minute it would leap at my window, for some reason trying to land as high up on my screen as possible. The funniest part was post-leap, when, after the high of flying without wings wore off, the little furballs would panic and not know how to get down. They would freeze, and end up just plastered there on my screen door...like a bug that splattered on a windshield. Now that's entertainment! And, I'm convinced, how I ended up with a squirrel in my ceiling. My theory is that this particular squirrel made it all the way to the top of my screen, where it found a hole in the brick above my sliding glass door and wriggled in to investigate. Bad timing for Mr. Squirrel. See, as I would learn later, the same week Mr. S let curiousity get the best of him, the building maintenance crew made its rounds and sealed all holes and cracks on the outside of all buildings in the complex. So...the squirell got in, but couldn't get out. I happened to be home from work on the day Mr. S got stuck. Sitting there, I kept hearing this click click click sound running above my head. It took a second for me to realize all apartments were carpeted, and no pets were allowed. Ergo, there was an animal (at this point I didn't know of what species or origin) in my ceiling. I kept hearing it run from the vicinity of the kitchen to pretty much where the sliding door was...well, really, it would go "click, click, click, click, click, click, bam." See, it knew where it had gotten in, but just didn't grasp the whole "can't get out that way" concept. For a week, mostly at night, if would run full tilt (see the pattern here) toward that corner and then I'd hear "bam" as it hit the wall. Finally, animal control came out, sawed a hole in my kitchen wall about the cabinets and set a trap. At 7:00 a.m. the next morning I heard a twang, followed by wimpering unlike anything I'd ever heard. I crept into the kitchen to find the fluffiest darn squirrel I'd ever seen trapped in a metal box suspended above my refrigerator. Huh, now there's a sight you don't see every day. And, I can say, I now know what it's like when squirrels cry!
• EXHIBIT D: The Squirrel Whisperer -- That's me. Apparently I speak squirrel. Who knew? One day, while sitting on a bench by the "fake man-made pond" at my glorious Wheeling apartment, a squirrel came foraging for whatever it is that they forage for. Well, it was making it's little chittering squirrel-sound, so I decided to mimick it. I have no idea why. I can only surmise I was extremely bored. Which makes sense...I was in Wheeling, after all. So, I start making chittering sounds that I think approximate what I hear coming from the little fluffball, and the darndest thing happens -- it stops chittering and eating whatever it was eating, sits up on its hind legs, pricks its ears back and listens. Encouraged, I chitter some more. And the squirrel turns to me. So I chitter again, and it starts coming towards me. I keep it up, and in a minute or so it's at my feet looking up at me. And it is at that moment that I began to panic. See...I have NO IDEA what I'd been saying to the fluffball. All of a sudden I imagine I promised it food, or the keys to a Jeep, or proposed marriage and I start to believe I better get the heck out of dodge. See, the squirrel looks like it's about to jump in my lap -- and getting mauled by an angry, vampire-squirrel (yes, I was convinved it would go for my neck) was just not on my list of things to do that day. So I start making regular people sounds (the kind that ususally scare fluffballs of all kinds away) and soon enough he scampers off. Phew...how would I have explained that engagement to my parents?
• EXHIBIT E: All Squirrels Are Romantics -- The week before last my office-mate lost his wedding ring in the parking lot of our office. It was the day of the "honking huge and freaking ridiculous end-of-March snowstorm" and he had run out in the middle of the day to clean off his car a little. Afterwards, he had snow all over his sleeves and shook them out rather vigorously (his words, not mine...I wasn't there) before going back inside. Well, appartenly his wedding ring was big, and somehow in the bout of shaking had flown off his finger into our parking lot oblivion. When he relayed this story to me, I told another office mate that my belief was that the ring was gone...a squirrel probably came along and swiped it. Said squirrel was probably thinking about proposing to his true love, and it was just his luck to come across such a golden ring at such a time. In fact, I figured at that moment he was down on one leg or paw or however squirrels proposed and asking his best, fluffiest gal to marry him. A week later my office-mate found his ring...about 7 cars away from where he'd parked. I told him that the squirrel's proposal must have been unwelcome, and having been rejected by his only true love, came back to the scene of his fateful ring encounter and just dumped it anywhere...happy to be rid of the foul thing and convinced that WI is where he'll find his true squirrel-love. If only he had a Jeep...

Case closed. And yes, I do realize I'm a more than a few fries short of a happy meal! Hey, at least the Evanston squirrels keep to themselves. For now :) Green Bee gone...

GB

Nature v. Nurture v. Whatever Comes to Mind

So...I've been thinking lately. The whole nature v. nurture argument...how much weight does that hold. Which holds more influence? And can either nature or nurture ever be changed? See...I am an adopted child. An adopted only child...one who was adopted at 3 days old. The only familial environment I know is the one I was raised in. Yet I ended up being almost 100% different from my family in likes/dislikes/hopes/dreams/talents. The only aspect where I remotely resemble my family is in "learned behaviors" -- not sharing feelings, being fiercely private and independent, hiding problems instead of talking about them.

The real impetus (sorry for "big word usage here"...not writing to impress, just couldn't think of a better word in this instance) for this blog is my looking back on my upbringing and marveling at how I turned out. I grew up in a, for lack of a better descriptor, beige world. Literally. The carpets in my house were beige. The car we owned was beige. The furniture spanned a spectrum of beige hues from "vanilla" to "cocoa" and "taupe" to "brown." I was not allowed to paint my bedroom walls or hang anything on said walls. I couldn't pick my comforter (or my clothes...until I was in high school). There was really no outlet for self-expression, at least one would think. I mean, there were (and still aren't) any books in the house where I grew up, no music (no stereo, records, tapes or CDs). There is no computer. There are only three DVDs in said residence. No magazines...no anything. Yet I somehow grew up to love reading, books and horror novels in particular. We didn't have cable, yet I somehow devour all things pop culture. I LOVE music, though I didn't start listening to it until college (my 300+ CD collection proves it...though my iPod rendered even those obsolete). I love to write (stories, poems, whatever), draw, paint, sketch, make jewelry, dance (tap, mostly), play basketball, watch TV and play board games. Somehow, my environment growing up had nothing to do with who I became.

And yet it did. Because I learned to not talk about anything personal. I got the message that being a woman was something shameful and secretive. I got the message that men are asses. And most are, mind you, but certainly not all. I got the message that I was different, strange...a traitor for not 100% believing in the religion, life views, ideologies that my family did. And, oh yeah, I'm about a half foot taller than everyone in my family. That's interesting at family gatherings :)

So...I guess I'm torn. Nature? Nurture? Nothing but genetics? What's the deal, folks? I don't have the answer. And I'm not sure I'd want it.

Okay, donkey...on to other topics:

• All Hail Furby -- do you remember those annoying little toys...looked like cuter versions of Gremlins...yet had the ability to "learn"? Well, a long time ago, circa 1999 I had one. And it drove me nuts. Not only did it not "learn" anything...it wouldn't go to sleep. All it would do is repeat "me scared"..."it's dark in here"..."me hungry"...and other such gems. One day (it was asleep at this point, by some miracle I may add) I'd had enough and as I was taking out the trash I decided to throw the annoying little bugger away. Well, the motion of tossing it into the trash bag woke it up. So, as I'm walking across the parking lot of my apartment complex to pitch my garbage, the darn thing starts talking. Yep...I'm walking by my neighbors carrying a trash bag that keeps saying "Furby scared"..."it's dark in here"... and "let's play." Needless to say, I got more than a few odd looks. And I'd venture to guess that every time someone tossed something into the dumpster from then until the garbage men came would trigger that darned blasted toy to speak again...freaking out everyone. I can't help but look back and laugh...it was the first and last time I've had "talking trash!" :)
• Once More, With Feeling -- it's been a good year since I indulged in listening to the Buffy "musical episode" on CD. And it still rocks. I mean, they got the mustard out. What more can I say? My only regret is that I missed out on the musical episode theater revival tour (a la Rocky Horror Picture Show) before the greedy powers that be whined about not making money off of it and put the grand ole kibosh on it. Boo hoo :( Give me something to sing about, man!
• Yea Spring -- or the semblance of a possibility that in some realm in the near future there will exist, in any approximation, a form of slightly warmer weather historically referred to as "spring." Yeah, gotta love '08.

That's all the mindless blather that's fit to print. "I'll never tell!" :) GB silent.

Poem Is Me

Very brief blurb tonight...these days find me one waaaay busy bee. But I promised a friend (note to self: watch what you promise!) I'd post one of my poems, so here you go...read it and weep. Or maybe just read it...weeping would be construed as an unfavorable reaction :)

Green B buggin out!

Tactile Turn

One look back, one last look
Turned her into a pillar of salt
So you made margaritas
And drowned your sorrows in regret

Could have saved her the trouble
And you the sin
An apple a day
Kept the doctor at bay
But not the snake

So you sold your soul
For a tabloid day
That in dog years equals ten

Then reformed your conviction
In the court of opinion
For water
To dilute your wine

Casual encounter turned cautionary tale
Urban legend, suburban shame
Spirited a ghost
Surrendered the game
Plundered the treasure of another new name

The Power of Words

Last night, this little bee had the pleasure of buzzing, literally, with a group of work partners and clients at a post-really-long-meeting gathering. One of the folks there proposed the idea of us all going around the table and sharing the "one thing someone said to you in your life that you never forgot." Very cool suggesstion...of course, this tending-to-fall-mute-lately bee drew a blank. Buzz-kill :( Hours later -- having sufficiently slept and properly hydrated -- I find that there are, indeed, not one but a few hurtful, flattering or just plain interesting verbal gems I've been handed over the years...here goes (no judgment from the peanut gallery...that means you, cashew):

• "You are butt and flat" (as in you are butt ugly and flat-chested...as stated to me in response to the very reasonable "why won't you go out with me?" query of a 7th grade crush. Guess there's a reason they're called "crushes, eh? Alas...I can say there has only been siginificant improvement on one of those two fronts...ha...pun truly not intended there!)
• "If this is representative of what you can do, I highly recommend you consider grad school" (told to me by my philosphy professor following us turning in our first essay assignment -- a philosopher's commentary on the state of health care reform in what was then 1996 -- and my getting the only A in the class.)
• "Why don't you love me like everyone else loves me?" (as queried to me by, at that time, a very drunk work friend -- I say at that time because we are no longer friends...as for whether she is still very drunk, well that I cannot say -- following my not allowing her to drive home and insisting she crash, literally, at my place. Stumped for a response, all I could utter was "how does everyone else love you?" and at which time she promptly passed out. I never did find out how everyone else loves her...to be honest, I'm a little scared to know!)
• "You can't unring a bell" (as told to me by a smart, insightful friend -- and former bell-owner -- in response to lamenting my myriad family woes of late...see previous post for snippet. The good news is, you can "not ring" it again...says a now former-bell-owner herself.)
• "Okay Donkey" (ok, so this wasn't "said" to me...it was "written" to me in an e-mail from a friend whose spell check had run amok. She was responding to sappy e-mail I'd written her, and meant to end it with "okey dokey" -- for some reason my signature phrase at the time and something she knew would make me smile -- and didn't catch that her spell-check function had automatically converted the phrase. Well, I did smile...in fact, I think I laughed to so hard I snorted coffee out my nose -- lovely picture, I know...at least it wasn't hot anymore -- and to this day I have a clip-art picture at my desk of a little donkey with the caption "Okay Donkey." I say it all the time, and as goofy as it is, that friend, and this phrase, will always hold significant meaning in my life!)

So fellow buzzers, any of y'all have something someone once said (or wrote) to you that has always stayed with you and you'd like to share? If so, share away. I'm off to brew some coffee (to be consumed the normal-not-through-the-nose way, of course). Okay Donkey.

Green B Out