February 2005 Archives
"With your shield, or on it."
That is a story our tour director in Greece told us. Women would not say goodbye to their husbands or sons going off to war. They would say, "With your shield, or on it." If a man came back from war without his shield, it generally meant he dropped it while running from battle, and he would dishonor himself and his loved ones. If he fell in battle, his friends would carry him home on the shield. It was only in victory would he return WITH his shield.
It seems kind of morbid to tell your man, "Come back a winner or dead." That's how things were.
Remember in 50 First Dates when Lucy decided to erase Henry by ripping out all the pages in her notebook? In Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, he spoke to me when Jim Carrey's character yells, "I'm erasing you! And I'm happy!"
I have done this. I have deleted people. In fact, the most interesting to me was when Scot was erased. I woke up from brain surgery, and I knew he still existed somewhere in the universe, but the love was gone. And I was so glad. That wasn't love, I don't think, but some kind of neuro- tumor-related, anxiety attack that lasted more than two years. And I don't ever want to feel like that about someone again.
And the Friends episode where Ross scolds Rachel for belatedly revealing her affections (Him: "This ship has sailed!" Her: "I don't need your stupid ship!").
Before I ever got sick, this is how it worked: in those days, if I broke up with somebody, let's call him Dubutru, I just deleted his file in my e-mail account, and he was gone. Out of my head and my heart. That's all it took then.
I think it was right around the time that lightning struck WDAY and zapped my headphones, and turned to charcoal that squirrel they found in the parking lot, that things began to get cloudy...
In 1996, I received a new car for my birthday. It was gorgeous, and smelled good, and it took six months for it to be repossessed, because the giver is irresponsible. Of course, to be irresponsible and so severely impact the life of another is not doing the right thing.
This story is one of the reasons I dearly love my dad. He is the most responsible person ever.
Looking down from my suite on the sixth floor of Pavek Hall on NDSU's campus, the medium blue adriatic Chevy Lumina reflected the clouds so beautifully. It really felt like I was floating among the clouds, in the sky, in my car.
And the movie A Walk in the Clouds was just on television, and it just reminded me of that.
Can you imagine being traded to another team? For example, in Radio, buying a house is the Kiss of Death, because as soon as you get comfortable, new owners may come in and fire everybody. I guess when you play basketball, you always know it could happen. Kind of like joining the Guard. Heck, what's one weekend a month and two weeks a year? Well, it could be two years in Iraq!
Malik Rose was crying on the news last night. He is now going to be a Knick (What's a Knick???). He has to leave San Antonio. And that's probably the cruelest part of it.
Ambiturner
context and source: The title character in the movie Zoolander can only turn around in one direction; he wishes he could turn both ways, which would make him an ambiturner.
composed of: ambi + turn + er
apparent meaning: able to turn around both ways
Uh. My head hurts. Everybody I tell about Nicole, Barbie, Lane and myself thinks that if there are that many problems in such a small number of people, then there's a power plant in an unnamed town, in an unnamed state, that owes me a cool million. Hey, Barb, I'll bet we could get you one, too. We just need a good lawyer.
I curled up, blankets cocooned around me and teeth chattering. Begging for more blanket and snugglier socks. I'm sure that the blue hue of my skin contrasted nicely with my pink pajamas. After about two hours of watching me suffer, he says, offhandedly, "Well, I guess I'll go turn off the air conditioning now."
The AIR CONDITIONING?!? Was he SERIOUS? In FEBRUARY??? I know for almost a fact that they have winter in the land he hails from, this Connecticutian with no regard for the comfort level of others in the room. Our chaplain's wife told us of an elderly married couple she knows who each have their own house, living perfectly in harmony, separately.
And it's beginning to make sense to me.
I feel like I'm complaining a lot lately. Right now I am cold. Even in my ULTRA cozy flannel jammies (I know, I know, I am one hot love goddess) I got to thinking about my NDSU sweatshirts, and where the heck they could be.
I have many, many NDSU pieces of clothing, ranging from Pi Kappa Delta and Spectrum, to general Bison sweatshirts.
My first NDSU sweatshirt was green, and I had a Bison football jacket, that I was wearing the night before I left Washburn. My '82 white Olds Cutlass (oooh, baby, what a CAR!) was all packed up. My parents were gone already. They rented out the house and left when I left. But I stayed at Tasha's place a couple more days.
And we went out to Lane's house to say goodbye. We were all teary. You know how people get on goodbyes. Or maybe that was just me, inconsolable. He saw the jacket in my backseat, and said, "That should be mine."
I don't know if I feel guilty because it was his dream to play football at NDSU and I went there without him, or if I feel guilty because I don't know where the jacket is right now. Maybe if I'd chosen UND, by myself, I wouldn't feel so bad now. But then, there would have been no Y94, no Spectrum, and maybe no New Jersey for me.
Life is so weird. Where's my sweatshirt?
I am so tired. I wish I could be restful. Know how it is when you are so hungry and nothing looks good?
Ok, this is good story. Maybe not good, but worth it. Let me back up.
My department is moving. So today, jazzed about the prospect of larger desks, we all began packing up our desks. They passed out boxes. I, soldier's daughter and radio gypsy, veteran of 25 moves since graduating high school, didn't tape the bottom of my box. My mental capacity knows no bounds. So when my coworker Justin tried to lift it up, all the contents dropped out the bottom.
My manager took it upon himself to rescue me with packing tape and a scissors. Handing me the cutting device, he stretched the tape across the bottom of the cardboard. I reached over to cut it, and closed the scissors blades on Jason's hand.
So I am thinking about love and how there are so many kinds of love, or maybe just one love and we all have our own way of expressing it? I don't care. Love really is all around, you know.
I have always thought men were tougher than women, but they really are fragile, aren't they? They express their hurt or their love differently than we do. And my momma says men are all alike, they just look different so we can tell them apart.
My buddy Shawno always used to say no relationship was a waste, thanks to the Law of Averages.
"Every wrong one gets you a little closer to the right one."
Today, among the red and pink mylar tornado that is Valentine's Day, it's impossible to not reflect on those Northern Stars that directed your path and made you whom you are today. Who? Whom?
The fact is, we wouldn't be where we are unless we had been affected just a little bit by something. And aren't we glad? Seriously. I wouldn't have near as many excellent stories had the East Coast not broken my heart. And I went back for more! And the funny thing is, I wouldn't give those memories back.
Well, when we know better, we do better. But Happy Hearts Day. Love is all around you. :)
So, anyway, remember when we talked about the de ja vu? I mean, I know I'm not in Kirkwood Mall, Bismarck, ND, but sometimes I just feel like I am.
Well, today I'm shopping in the Mall of America. Can't explain it. Don't know what it is. But there you have it. Let's go get on the Log Ride at Camp Snoopy.
I'm gonna sidle out on a limb here and say that this appeared to be the Hammer Commercial Superbowl Sunday.
I have caught a glimpse of MC Hammer, Yo Hammer, on more than one spot during this game, and I am thankful to God the man's getting paid for doing something. Life is Round. See? We all get it back.
Someone I used to know a long time ago used to say that in his best "radio guy" voice. I always giggle.
Today, I'm home sick. Siiiiick. A commercial just came on for Q10 Face Cream. The irony of that so overtook me that I called my mom to tell her.
I'm going to buy some of that. Because I'm going to be twenty-nine, and yes, I feel the number merits my typing that out: TWENTY-NIIIINE. And because Erik refers to my other face moisturizer as Oil of Old Lady, and that's just not very doggone funny to someone who's about to become the age that people lie about being, and therefore just one year younger than that all-terrifying round number that puts me so far away from college and trophies I've won and cartwheels I've turned.
I was the first girl in my class to have half a facelift, mind you, and I still look good. If he's not careful, he will be subjected to a viewing of Waiting to Exhale this Friday night. Muahahahahaha....
