Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Pearl Jam and some Iphone stuff

Music....I wasn't always a person who enjoyed the rock genre...but as I got older, my bubble gum lollipop school girl crushes on pop stars made room for a bit darker types of music.

Okay, actually I missed the day we were all supposed to attend the "This is Music and what you need to know about it" class. I have no clue about what harmonies are really supposed to sound like, or melodies, or tenors, or...you get it right.

I can't even sing the right words...EVER. I drive my baby sister kooky when I sing, cause she's like an expert (eye roll via me). Cause she had a couple singing lessons. And me? Well, I got hit by the "don't let her sing" stick on my way out of my mothers whoo-ha.

I just like music but can't tell you why I really like it. Usually music always brings me back to specific places in my past. Doesn't it always?

This week I bring you Pearl Jam...The End. (It's a beautiful and haunting type of song.)

I just heard this song for a first time last week on a show I watch "Castle" brought to you via a awesome app on my IPhone "Shazaam".

You hear a song, you quickly dive and hunt for your IPhone and push the Shazaam button and pray there is enough song left for this bad boy app to pick up, analyze and send back to you the name of the song.

Thank God for this app...cause I'm the person who's asking someone to "name that tune" and trying to hum it. I suck at humming it. My kid tells me to shush when I hum. So my can you tell me the song "Fix It" by Coldplay might sound like "Mary had a little lamb"

Speaking of Castle...I have a mad crush on this man. Nathan Fillion.

Don't tell my husband.

I'm done here. Peace Out!

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Who wants to hear some music?

First and foremost, thank you ALL for your very supportive and kind comments in regards to my last post.

I can't explain in enough words of this new place I've allowed myself to be at. I'm not skydiving out of a plane, but for the first time thinking of it. (who am I kidding, I'll just ride the plane and watch the crazy ones actually step out the door at x=(completely ridiculous)amount of feet in the air.

And Mammaducky....you deserve the best piece too!

So on to my regular meme post (which I haven't done in Foorrreeeeevvvveerrrr)


It's been a while since I participated in anything. And since I heart this lady right here I thought I would join in on her fun. She has the best celeb gossip around bloggytown. And I've been reading her a long time. AND she takes great pics....along with Mighty M. (They don't take photos together, just that I love Mighty M as well.)

I've been nostalgic recently. Like the 1986 kind. And the song that makes me go back the most is this one....

Does ANYONE remember this band? Anyone?

The Jets. (God I loved them.)

This puts me back to 6,7, 8th grade living on the Big Island.

Me and the friends dancing like we were popstars (you know, Tiffany and Debbie Gibson...who now goes by Deborah?) in our cafeteria turned dance arena.

One photo even made it into my 8th grade yearbook of said popstar dancing.

And absolutely NO. To showing you! That book is hiding somewhere.

For now.

This song even inspired me to 'stalk/peer' through some old old friends through my facebook account and found a really close friend who I hadn't heard from in over 18 years.

And reconnected by clicking Add Friend. (ahhh, the joys' of social media)

(Psstt, the old me never 'friended' anyone on facebook for absolute fear of being rejected...wait, but that can't just be the old me, right? That crap reminds me of making friends in school, will she or will she not let me eat lunch with her?)

Monday, January 11, 2010

Not my usual post...but a really honest one.

Found this beautiful picture on the internet a LONG LONG time ago. I wish I could remember so I could give due credit. But it best exemplifies my post. Her nakedness translates to me that there is nothing to hide. This is her. Take it or leave it. She is a peace with herself.

I'm not sure how this post will go, but I've had an enlightenment in my life that I feel I really need to spill on the pages of my blog.

For me to come back to and remember this feeling and this moment in my life.

This won't be my usual funny haha type of post. It is a heavy post. Maybe it might include humor. Because humor is what helps me defeat the depression that I feel I have lived and buried myself in for quite a while.

I'll start quickly with that it probably started the day my parents divorced. I was 11, maybe 10. And my kid brain tried hard to process that a big change was going to take place. And the life that I lived so care-free of hurt and disappointment (other than NOT getting ice cream for dinner...insert humor to break tension here), wasn't going to be my norm.

My mother took my baby sister with her to California to heal from my father leaving her for another woman. A woman that my middle sister, Antibloggedy, and I had to live with for some years. A woman that hadn't expected to be living with 2 children.

It wasn't so bad for my sister, but I think now, I know, I was always my mothers daughter. I would fight little battles that children fight to honor their fallen mother's name. To remind my father and his new girlfriend that I was once a part of a family unit that I thought was strong and could withstand anything.

Longer story made less longer is that my father's girlfriend and I did NOT like each other. Like Chocolate & Sardines. We did not belong together. (But hey, if some of you like that combo...who am I to judge?...more witty repertoire for you). I was generally a very happy go lucky type of girl. Found the silver in EVERY lining.

For whatever reason, she chiseled parts of my confidence and belief in life that I am worth something. When my father said my sister and I were going to move back to be with my mother....I packed fast and ran hard. And glimpsing, surprisingly, tears from a father that his girls were leaving him.

What? You WANT us to stay?

But....you've always picked HER. The one that hisses at my very presence. The one....that at 13 years old pulled me into the living room while you were at work and told me I was spoiled and couldn't believe my father threw me a birthday party. How I wasn't deserving of one, how ungrateful I was, and other insignificant words she continued to make me listen to.

That moment...I did feel like I didn't deserve...anything. I was a child, she was the adult. She was right. Right? I believe I cried the hardest I had ever cried as a child. Alone in my room. That moment defined me. It created who I was to become. I smiled less, and walked in every one's shadow.

Because it was safer.

I've felt 'unworthy' from that moment. I've pretended through life how wonderful things are when people make fusses over me. Because I'm waiting for them to roll their eyes and tell me how inconvenient it is for them. Parts of me really don't like parties thrown for me. Not because I don't love a party. But for me? Why?

They say the funny ones always have some sadness in them. For their comedy is their shield. Their comedy is for so no one else hurts. For me, I've had to find the funny in my life. The funny allowed me to surface for air.

Constantly as an adult and more so as a parent, I often wonder how can someone hurt a child emotionally? What purpose does it really serve? Can it really make them feel better?

My enlightenment came from my mother. She probably won't realize what that information was but a small tidbit of something she said released me of the chains I allowed my fathers girlfriend to bind to my spirit.

I have always been a person who will take the ugliest and last piece of bread so others can enjoy it. I never felt worthy enough to grab the first piece. The best piece. The piece I really want.

But I will now. Because I DO deserve it. I AM deserving of it.

The old me would never have written this for others to read. But she can rest now. She's fought hard to keep me afloat and now this new me wants to take the reins and let her breathe. Because this new me is worth it.

For those of you who made it through this post. Thank you!

Now excuse me while I inhale my Kleenex box. (ahem, more humor...to lighten the mood.)

Friday, January 08, 2010

Cough, sniffle, blow, cough, sniffle, blow

What do you do when both adults in the house are completely sick?

And the only able bodied person in the said home is a 3 year old?

Mr. Flu & Mrs. Eff You came knocking hard core at me and Mr. Rambler's body and soul yesterday. My husband called out sick from work and so rightfully "rock/paper/scissor" 'd it to see who would take the little one to school, feed her, cloth her, bath her.

Who am I kidding?

My husband acted like the world stopped until he could resume normal life as soon as he started his fever of not wanting to live. One night...I gave him one night of being an invalid. ONE NIGHT. The next two days? No sympathy from another sick person. None, zippo.

If I hear..."I'm sick...." one more time from his lips, my sanity will pack up and leave for good!

Therefore, Supermom, had to 'pretend' she wasn't as sick as 'dead to the world man' and continue to do all things that NEED to be done for a three year old. (Supermom=Me)

And I say God Bless her my little Rambler because...

If she could have made her school lunch for mommy...She would have.

If she could have started her own shower to wash off the days yucky's, dry off and dress herself in her PJ's...She would have.

If she could have made dinner for herself....she would have.

If she could have taken the car to preschool on her own....she would have.

If she says "You Otay Momma?" one more time....I'll cry. (from appreciation that she want's to make sure I'm okay...which drives me to make sure she's okay.)

So 2010...your looking REAL good here. REALLLL good.


And a belated Happy Birthday to my sister Antibloggedy who hasn't been blogging much lately but hopefully will get back into the spirit of things.