Addressing the issues: Drivers and Pedestrians.

Dear Pedestrians and Drivers of the tiny (however charming) city we so affectionately dub: “Old Town”.  I have a few thoughts burdening me and truly, I need to get them off my chest.  After moving from the ever ghettofying clutches of southern Maryland, I’ve come to the realization that OT people annoy me as well.  Perhaps it’s me.  Yeah, it’s probably definitely me.  My cynicism toward entitled people grows because of the following issues. 

Drivers:  What NOT to do. 

1. Have you ever heard of four way stops?  There are magical signs in bright red that tell us to STOP.  If three other cars arrive at the intersection, whom ever stopped first should go first.  So no, slowing down, quickly checking for cops, coasting through, and accelerating back to 50 mph in .47 seconds is not acceptable.

2. The fact that your typical muscle car (most likely a Mustang or Camero)  can accelerate to 50 mph in .47 seconds does not impress me.  Actually as a pedestrian, I would say this slightly alarms me.

3. Why must you stop suddenly in the middle of the road to “park” when there is a perfectly decent parking lane directly to your right?  And why does oncoming traffic feel the need to actually speed up so that I can’t get around you? I do not comprehend.

4.  If there is a gigantic sign at an intersection with a no turn left in bright red, why do you feel the need to attempt to turn left anyway? And why is it necessary to make this feeble attempt during rush hour?   Your really ought to feel ashamed of yourself, even embarrassed.  Because now every single car trying to get around you/behind you/ in front of you is now flipping you off and calling you a douchebag.  Figure it out.

5. Just because you (or your rich husband) can afford a BMW convertible does not make you more entitled to the road than other people.  Hell, I see about 17 of those convertibles lining the same street on my same walk every damn day.  So no, your special car does not make you extra special. 

6. I forget what I was going to say, but it was good.  You should feel lucky.

Pedestrians:  What NOT to do.

1. There are intersections with lights.  Lots of them . And they all have magical signs that tell us when it’s okay to cross.  Is there a white man walking?  Is there a neon orange sign telling you not to step into oncoming traffic?  Read it. Learn it.  And quit flipping drivers off for going around you when you make stupid decisions.

2. I realize you have the right to cross at a four way stop.  However, could you do the world a favor and pay attention?  I realize that the four blocks from your front door to the local pub can get so monotonous and boring that you absolutely must listen to your iPod (so loud that everyone around you can also listen to your obnoxious music)  and/or text everyone you know on the planet, but do you remember the rules your mommy taught you?  Stop. Listen. Look. Then go.  Go back to that mantra.  It might work out better for you in the end.  As in, save your life.

3. Yes, I understand that you are lazy and therefore, would prefer to J walk behind the giant truck obstructing the view of oncoming traffic.  But ask yourself, is this a healthy decision? Will I live to J walk another day?  Try J walking when there aren't about fourteen cars speeding up toward the next four way stop.  And perhaps try not to step out behind the giant white truck obstructing everyone's view.  Just sayin'.

I realize that not everyone is a total ass in every situation involving the road.  Hell, even I have my classy moments.  But seriously, I find myself wondering why everyone walks/drives around like zombies.  I don’t understand it.  At least, if nothing else-  the constant chaos that involves stupid people on a daily basis causes me to stop and be grateful for those few kind people who actually, I don’t know, drive/walk legally.  Or even wave someone forward at a stop sign.  It’s just nice. 

 So next time someone stops for you, smiles and waves you on, pay that tiny, miniscule kindness forward.  Because you never know when you might see that kindness again.

Oh my darling lemon pie.

Mondegreen: n.  A form of error arising from mishearing a spoken or sung phrase; A misunderstanding of a written or spoken phrase as a result of multiple definitions

I don’t know about you, but I manage to mishear / misinterpret lyrics ALL the time.

Examples of my past personal hearing failures:

1.  Do the lucky lady.
Actual lyric: Dude looks like a lady.

I actually prefer my lyrical rendition of this popular Aerosmith line.

2.  Hold me closer, Tony Danza
Count the head lice on the highway.
Actual lyric: Hold me closer, tiny dancer.

Sorry Elton John- it was an honest mistake at the ripe age of seven!

And finally,

Number 3.

When it’s cold outside,  I’ve got the wonder gay. 

Actual lyric: When it's cold outside,I've got the month of May.

Quite honestly, I don't know what the hell i was thinking/singing.. although, I do believe a hairbrush, a mirror, and maybe, just maybe my older sister's stolen bright red lipstick were involved. 

 You would think I was dropped on my head as a child, perhaps even several times.  But no, at the age of eleven I STILL thought I had that Temptations line right.. until the movie (My Girl) came out and I realized what a fool I was.

So, next time you screw up a karaoke line at the local bar, blame it on the tequila.  Or the fact that you heard a mondegreen.  Either way, these are totally legitimate excuses.. and really, you're not the only one.

meloncholy morning

This morning I woke up wishing I could remember my dream last night. I know it was incredibly vivid, and something terribly sad ocurred. The kind of dream that made me want to mourn over losing someone dear to me. I don't know who it was or what happened. I'm not sure if this is fortunate or not.

It's a slightly meloncholy morning. the sky is grey, and I'm moving rather slowly to the rhythmic sounds of Scriabin's Preludes. The room is quiet and empty, but well lived in. slightly messy, slightly cluttered, but pieces of personality splashed on the walls in black and white sections and some in color.  The calm before the storm involving classes and children desperately seeking my attention.

There are a lot of things I miss right now from my home- my original home. I miss my mother (despite what I might say otherwise). I miss my sister's conversational advice from years ago. I miss the way my niece was so completely attached to me- called me nanny (because Annie is was apparently too difficult a word for a toddler) but wouldn't say anyone else's name, no matter how much they attempted to get her to repeat it.

I miss playing my piano at home at one o'clock in the morning.
I miss the beach. I miss driving alone with the Beatles.
I miss late nights at local diners and their bottomless cups of coffee to accompany the book I happened to be reading.
I miss my grandma's soup. She made a different kind almost every day. I miss seeing my grandpa's finished and unfinished crossword puzzles all over the house.

I miss the friendship i had for fifteen years, then watched it slowly drift away with time and distance.
And then I began thinking about the beginnings of new friendship.  The kind that breaks down barriers somewhere between casual conversation and the sudden realization of being on the same intellectual plane. 

It's funny how relationships begin and end. They are easily created every day.. But my question is..
Can they be recreated? is it really possible to let go for awhile..
and then begin again? can we wipe the slate clean?
I wish I knew. time will tell, I suppose.

a Jersey girl and her football team.

I'm going completely out of my element here, but this is something that has been bothering me for two weeks now... especially since I am no longer living in New Jersey and am in the midst of an army of die hard Redskins fans.


The Giants lost on Sunday night.. I mean, got destroyed, and it was catastrophic.  But at least it was because the Colts played a stellar game and didn't make any douchey calls like the Texans on Redskins.  And you know, we've still won a game so far while the damn Cowboys have lost both their games.  So there's that.  But here's what I don't understand: why all that HATE for my Giants? 

I understand why people hate the Eagles or the Cowboys-  my dislike is derived completely from the obnoxious fans.  Every fan I've met has been full of trash talk and anger- I've even seen them turn on each other when the game wasn't going well!  Now, I am absolutely NOT saying that every single Eagles or Cowboys fans are complete assholes, because I am sure that is not true.  It's just every one by whom I have been accosted for being a Giants fan.

Everyone has their personal reasons.  Perhaps everyone except  for those people who follow a random team because everyone else is following that team (even if they've never even lived there!)  I like to call them sheep.

But I have my own reasons.  One of the few  truly good memories I have of my father was going to Giants football games.  It was the one and only thing that we did together.  And when we weren't going to the game, we sat at home and cheered from the living room.  It didn't matter- because that was the only  time in which I was happy with my relationship with my father.  That is where my love for the NY Giants stems from- that is where those positive memories lie in regards to my father.  What is your reason for loving your team?

So I will repeat my question:  why all the hate for the Giants?  I heard someone even say "it was karma".  Karma from WHAT, exactly?  Now, I am no football expert by any means, but I do love to cheer on my team like any other.  However, I do NOT like being verbally attacked simply because of the fact that I root for an opposing team.  I certainly don't verbally attack any other fans.. and if their team is doing well, why NOT congratulate them?

I guess I just hate negativity.    And I suppose that's the tiny optimist in me.

Two things I hate:

Weddings and superficial people. 

Alas, I agreed to spend my lovely saturday afternoon wading through the jungle that is both these things.


  this is what I wore.


please ignore the messy bookshelf.


I've never worn so much pink in my life.   But you know, the heels lasted about 20 minutes before I realized we would be STANDING for this wedding.  Thank goodness I brought sandals.  I'm just not willing to pay the price for beauty.

I soon became astounded at the number of superficial and insecure people attending this wedding.  I didn't know anyone except for my date.  One particular conversation certainly left its mark on my memory.

Her:  "OMG she's soo New York!" (obviously in admiration referring to a bridesmaid).

Me: "uh, why is that, exactly?"

Her: "Because she's beautiful, tall and skinny. like a model!"

Me: "You think that's New York? So there aren't models in LA and other parts of the United States? You only associate beautiful people with NYC? Not Wall Street, Central Park, New York Pizza, 9/11, the amazing diversity in culture, Broadway, Greenwich Village, Times Square...?"

Her: "Well I didn't mean to OFFEND you." 

Me: "I'm not offended.  I just don't understand how you can associate only tall, skinny models with New York City.  That's not my viewpoint on the subject at all and I grew up there."


She rolled her eyes and left in a huff. 

Was it something I said?Apparently I will never get along well with superficial, ignorant people. 

I think I'm okay with that. 

It amazes me how severely misguided people are, sometimes.


On the other hand, (don't hate, Redskins fans) GO GIANTS!!!!!!

I'm just a Basketcase.

I've just begun teaching with a different school.  One slightly closer to home, high achieving, supported by administration (which is rare), and has not had music for ten years.  I've got quite the job on my hands.

I have to admit it.  As a teacher in Maryland, I've most definitely lost it.  I've lost it during breaks, after school, and worst of all- in the classroom.  Today was one of those very rare occasions.  I don't mean that I broke down and cried-  I just don't do that.  But I did lose my temper. 

Children like to test their teachers- especially young(ish) teachers.  Beginning my fourth year as a music teacher in a rough area, this is not news to me.  I run a tight ship.  I keep classes organized, running smoothly, and I do not tolerate children hell bent on negativity.  One of these particular children decided to test my toleration.  

Perhaps I should have taken him aside more often.  I've done this many times before, in warning.  These warnings were ignored.  So when the final test came upon me,  the temper seized me.  It's no wonder some children think I'm scary- and yet most of these children absolutely adore me? It astounds me.  They see the temper, and yet hug me ceaselessly and thank me for teaching them music. 

The fierce love for me is astonishing.  And the fact that despite certain brats, most children discover a way to love and learn in my class.   I continue to discover ways around these obstacles, move on, and continue my lessons. 

This is why I teach.  I suppose not everyone has a job so rewarding, and for this I am thankful.

But oh, do I love the weekend.  When I can finally sit back, relax, and pretend that I have all the patience in the world.

Look back to move forward.

Living through break ups.  It's all just another element of living, isn't it?  Pondering the events of a past time causes memories to emerge, even in the middle of dreamless, sleepless nights.  Listening to street sounds and air vents sent me into wonder of the heart breaking emotion followed by numbness, perhaps even emptiness, and then rebuilding.  Everyone experiences this- not everyone wishes to revisit it.

We were always a contradiction, he and I.  For years we created our own articulate arguments, even when they meant nothing to us except a competition over words. It never really mattered why or what we needed to say because we only had to be right. And I sank into the overtones of constant argument while listening and reacting to the ridiculous device on my ear.  After awhile, I simply stopped arguing- even when he begged to hear it one last time.

I had a lot of nerve and he watched me throw that curve overhead until I lost track of time.  and distance.  It didn't matter anymore that he kept track.  I found pain in the peace we pretended to have and I was too busy just to grasp a hand.  But I had the support, nonetheless, and then all of this.  

All of this is just a collection of recollections I keep finding among thoughts entwined around a name.

 I know now... I know that pen will never make a mark again.

 

jersey memories.

have i really been away from the home i grew up in for this long? ten years. really? ten years have gone by. i was in school for four of those years. and it has already been six years of living independantly. on my own. alone.


the memories always flood back. i still leave in the middle of the night and come home late, creeping up the stairs. i know exactly where to step in order to avoid the ancient creak from beneath my bare feet.


my room has changed. the house is in the middle of "renovation". it stopped midway because my mother ran out of money to fund it. my old room is still painted sky blue. there are still two large closets, packed with mementos, photographs, journals, stories. my mother packed it all away for safekeeping. justincase i decide i need all of this back.


my mother only prepares a homecooked meal for my expected arrival. it's foreign to me, she never used to cook. but now when i come home once in awhile, she actually does in fact, cook.


there's a guest bedroom with old fireorange carpet and peeling, flowered wallpaper. it smells old, and it is always rather freezing because of its location just above the garage.


the house has been painted a cheerful yellow with light blue shutters.

i hate it.



i love my old home.


it's strange to see how much we have evolved in ten years.   It's even stranger to think home has gone from my place to live to my place to visit. From a movie to a photograph that's frayed around the edges.

And do you remember when we used to sing our every care and worry into the world?



remember how well we blended in the light of the stage?



well. i do.