When I say don't test me . . .

I mean don't test me.

For those of you who haven't seen Night at the Museum 2: Battle of the Smithsonian, my personal recommendation would be to see it. Or sneak in to see the last 10 minutes of it or so. From the moment Larry Daley (Ben Stiller) meets Amelia Earhart (Amy Adams) he is under the impression she doesn't know she's not real and that she has no idea what is going on. He struggles with telling her through the majority of the film. The kicker: she knew, just acted like she didn't . . . it was funner that way. Just as phony as can be, but it wouldn't be make believe if you believed in me. I'm the kind of person that doesn't like to know how the magic trick is performed. I'd prefer to be entertained by it. It's too much . . . enjoy the show.

You got to swim before you fly

If Wes is playing it cool, I'm having another drink and going home . . . alone. Fuck. That. Shit.

I ventured to a new establishment to get my Canadian Stomp on Thursday night. I hung out with a girl from work, Nick 1 (who is madly in love with her) and Nick 2 (her sister's boyfriend). I had a real good time and met some new comer to the whole line-dancing scene, Wes. Wes was there with this real beautiful blond and her friend and her friend's boyfriend. I guess he had talked with Nick & Nick before and came over to make some small talk before the next dance. We all told him he was the Mac for scoring such a hottie and he said that he wasn't actually with her. We all started fueling his confidence telling him stuff like, oh man don't worry she's so into you, you'll get her number before the night is over . . . blah blah blah (she was actually into him by the way . . . sooooo obvious). He had a pimp Hans Solo moment and goes, "I know." So what was the problem, why wasn't he actually "with" her, then? I asked him when the last time he went on a date was and he said this past Sunday actually. Oh so there's the problem, he actually likes another girl and he doesn't want to get this one's hopes up. Admirable, Wes, admirable. Let her down easy.

"So you really like the girl you went out with on Sunday, Wes?" I ask.

"Oh yeah, she was fantastic."

"Great when are you going out with her again?"

"We were supposed to go out tonight but I canceled to come here."

There were no words, I just looked at him as confused as could be so he felt a need to explain. "I really like her and I want to see if she likes me as much as I like her."

"So you canceled on her to come here with a girl that is throwing herself at you but that you don't really like."

Now girls have been accused of having some pretty fucked up logic when it comes to dating but . . . this is absolutely nuts (I would like to point out that the last guy to accuse me have having fucked up logic did so through a make-believe myspace profile in order to see how much I cared about him after he "the real" him. . . er, the . . . oh nevermind, called me skeevy). Absolutely nuts. Nuts. "So when are you gonna call her, Wes, The Sunday Kind of Love, gal?"

"Oh, I'm going to wait until she calls me."

"Wes . . . you really like her, though, right?"

"Oh man, yeah, I didn't know girls like her were out there."

"But you're sure you're going to wait until she calls you, right? I mean you're sure that's the way to go?"

"Definately."

"Wes, before Sunday, when was the last time you went on a date?"

"Four years ago." I must have shook his unwavering confidence in the situation . . . because he suddenly asked, "Do you think she'll call?"

"Wes, you're here with this beautiful blond who . . . yep . . . she just shook her booty at you and all you can think about is that girl. Honey, you're asking the wrong person the wrong question."

I walked to my car in the rain that night. But it was a good rain. If you can't swim don't try to fly.

And I did call . . . just never seemed to be on time.

Couch surfer

I was roaming around . . .





Posting more sporadic for the next few weeks at least.
Stress is a part of it but it's more like breaking through glass, finding a new home, but always fearless at heart.
Just in case, Pixie Lott's cover of Use Somebody is the default Saturday Night Lullaby.

There wasn't a 12 year old girl in '96 and '97 that didn't tape this song off the radio. ♥

Ttonight my fortune cookie fortune read, "The smart thing to do is to start trusting your intuition." But further confirming my fortune's message were the events leading to me getting that particular fortune. The Chinese take-out was HORRIBLE . . . barely edible. And my intuition while we flipped through menus was to order pizza. See?

I recounted this weekend's events to my friend today and knowing my medical history she gasped at what my gut told me to order Sunday. I likened it to breaking your finger so you wouldn't focus on the pain of a bullet wound. I can remember my doctor handing me a list of items not to eat and drink and hearing myself muttering, "But this is ALL I eat." I'd rather die happy with a fire in my belly I suppose.

Next Stop Please

Somebody told me there were cherry blue skies . . .

Favorite Post Secrets

♥ Post Secret ♥

Just cause

they came on the car radio and I didn't have the heart to turn them off. Thanks WERS 88.9, The Left End.








While the Miracle Fortress' video kind of scares me . . . it's the song that hits all the right chords and makes my soul the soul that it is. Maybe Lately . . . I just feel so torn open.

Have you hugged your Asian today . . .

" you may not be her first, her last, or her only. she loved before, she may love again. but if she loves you now, what else matters ? she's not perfect - you aren't either, and the two of you may never be perfect together. but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. she may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break - her heart. so don't hurt her, don't change her, don't analyze and don't expect more than she can give. smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she's not there."

--- bob marley

Stolen from Sophany. Forever and a day. ♥

3 In A Row Dedication

Suck it David Allan Boucher. I don't think you've ever played any Johnny. You don't know love if you don't listen to Johnny Mercer's songs.

I'd like to send this 3 In A Row Dedication out to someone very special. Honey if you don't know who you are by now . . . me telling you won't do any good.

And for kicks, they're all Frank singing Johnny. Crooners swoon together.

Come Rain or Come Shine

Fools Rush In

Too Marvelous For Words

And you are too marvelous for words but I'll try.
I can't keep my phone on me and text you all day. But you make me wish that I could.
You really do make me wish there was an eighth day of the week that no one else knew about. I fell in love with you even more when you threw your arms up in exasperation. When I see you I struggle with turning and running away, because a huge part of me just wants to throw my arms around you and start kissing you despite wherever we are and whoever else is around or how you might feel about it. And not the kind of "I just want to get in your pants" kind of kissing (not that I don't want to get in your pants but that isn't what this has ever been about). But the kind of kissing you do when you're just so happy to see that one person, it's the only thing that comes to mind to do because you're pretty sure gibberish would just come out of your mouth otherwise, you're THAT excited. The kind of kissing that makes you wish there was a secret ninth day created just for that kind of kissing. I snuggle my face up against the back of YOUR neck and feel like that was the spot invented just for me. But then I laugh to myself because that's the exact same way I felt when you were facing me, holding me in your arms. You are definitely easy on the eyes, and that cliche is merely an understatement. God, you look so good to me. And when you look at me, you make me feel beautiful. I walk around in circles with you and feel like I'm on an adventure. I even dream about you when I dream in my dreams you are that embedded in there.

Stepping out (for productivity's sake)

But never without a Saturday Night Lullaby.





If I could I would make a super-top-secret 8th Day of the Week. And you'd be the only one I'd tell about it.

I like to move it

You ain't dancing . . .

Listen to full song "Miss Alissa" by Eagles of Death Metal here.

Que Sera

What will make me feel free?

Some things we just have to learn the hard way.

Even the strongest have their weaknesses.

Sometimes even shopping can feel like an adventure. I love that store more for their displays than their clothes as well. ♥

♥ Ari. Heist. ♥

I like cookies to be free-form

No cookie cutters for me. They taste good no matter what.

In starting to read some of the course material for my online class I came across a small paragraph that got under my skin and enraged me. I understood it for the necessity of the course but . . .

That's just it, "for the course, for the course" is all I keep muttering to myself. I was going to write a scathing rant on the "cookie-cutter" culture we will never escape (though claim to have over-come over and over and over again). The words of Foucault, Derrida and Said were echoing in my head with an image of Nietzsche's Madman running through the market in the daytime with his lit lantern and . . .

I just let it all go. Do we have to look towards the future to understand what the ramifications are for the use of new technology by the herd? The formulas for success are just a click away. You can even find a perfect mate, learn how to sculpt the perfect body, even become a man/woman of God. I'm proud of such ingenuity put forth by my fellow man, but what would we do, if suddenly left without the formulas? It's not a new fear, in fact I feel like an unoriginal broken record. What do we do when it's all gone?

For those of you who had the pleasure of seeing the movie Up this weekend I hope the whole message of representation did not get lost. I'm not quite getting at the phenomenology of film . . . but a bit broader. Quickly, without wasting too much time on plot and hopefully not giving too much away, the main character Carl seems to have an unhealthy attachment to the things that reminded him of his late wife, Ellie. In fact, this attachment to these objects are what get him in trouble in the first place (the mailbox incident). What Carl realized during the course of the film was that those memories originated in him. They poured out of him. This theme ran and over-lapped in various sub-plots through out the entire film. After all we could examine the superficial reasons that led Russell to Carl's door step. I think the mystery and the interesting part of all of it (of life) is what happens in the "in between." The turning of an object into a symbol (whether personal or cultural). The becoming of an icon. Which definitions we choose and which objects house those definitions, when and why . . . Gah . . . . somewhere in there is where I want to be.

What do our "symbols" say about us now . . .
"Instant" messenger
"High-speed" internet
"All access"
"Unlimited" text


The idea that you aren't connected with the people you love if you don't have constant access to them . . .


All of this makes me long for where the wild things are.

Poetry Corner

MOON-CATCHIN' NET

I've made me a moon-catchin' net,
And I'm goin' huntin' tonight,
I'll run along swingin' it over my head,
And grab for that big ball of light.
So tomorrow just look at the sky,
And if there's no moon you can bet
I've found what I sought and I finally caught
The moon in my moon-catchin' net.
But if the moon's still shinin' there,
Look close underneath and you'll get
A clear look at me in the sky swingin' free
With a star in my moon-catchin' net.

- Shel Silverstein

Run Rabbit Run

That Would Be the Difference Between You and I

I would have . . .

My Favorite Post Secrets This Week





People watching is the number one charm of being out and about.




At least they weren't the only ones or the most fascinating.



"To love oneself is the beginning of a life long romance."--- Oscar Wilde

I finally got to thank this girl at work for finally asking me what I wanted. She didn't tell me what I should do, she didn't tell me how to act, or how the game should be played . . . hell she didn't even tell me she understood how I felt. She asked "Do YOU want to talk to him again?"

At my work last week I had four people asking me for something at the same time. They were standing approximately 5 feet from each other. It didn't bother me so much that they were all asking me for something . . . it bothered me that they didn't notice each other and all seemed perturbed they didn't have my undivided attention. I can't juggle for shit and I'm sorry.

But . . . and maybe you'll understand someday when you're a dad and your wife is calling you upset you forgot something and your boss is threatening you because you aren't putting in the overtime you need and your kids are crying you don't spend enough time with them and . . . the whole time you're trying to hold everything together . . .

Shame on you for putting it all on me.

Sweet Dreams, Saturday Night Lullaby

Enjoy the final bit of beautiful May weather. Sweet dreams til sun beams find you . . .


Dream hard and play fair,
xoxo,
Cindy Mayweather