Reading up for someday

Who doesn't like to live vicariously? I've taken it to a whole new level.
I am obsessed with reading about travel. I send away for free trip planning catalogs, I comb National Geographic Traveler's site, I subscribe to about 20 travel emails. All this goes on while I know full well that I am not going to be taking any trip, anywhere, anytime soon. 
I don't get sad when looking at trip itineraries that seem like they were written just for me. I may get a bit wistful, but mostly I absorb every detail, every photo, every travel tip.
Though it seems nearly impossible now, I do believe that someday I will get to go on my dream trips. I don't know why I am so positive about this, since my nature is to be pessimistic about nearly everything. 
I don't require four-star hotels or high-priced entertainment. I would be happiest wandering about in the countries and towns I have admired from afar for so long. I'd love to absorb the culture, the lifestyle, the language, the food, the music and history of faraway lands.
I get a little taste of all of that, of the endless possibilities, by reading up on other people's travels. One thing I do know for certain is that I would rather experience these places without the label of "tourist" attached to me. In order to do that, I believe a good deal of research is needed. I tell myself that's what I'm doing now. 
Works for me.
Someday, I will get there. 

There are about a million things I owe to my parents. One thing that may seem trivial but in my opinion is anything but, is the love of music they instilled in me.
I am thankful that I was exposed to the music they loved. I came to love it, too. Their music was an eclectic mix, much as mine is today.
They listened to classical, bluegrass, blues, 70s rock. Oakridge Boys, Steve Miller Band, The Eagles, Tchaikovsky, Billy Joel, Itzhak Perlman, Santana, Elton John, The Band, Three Dog Night, Joe Walsh.
Even now, we go to concerts together -- Joe Bonamassa, Tedeschi Trucks Band ...
We had music on much of the time when I was young. I think it's the reason I love music so much, and why I play it whenever possible, whether at home, at work, in the car ...
I never need to watch another minute of TV again. I just need my music and I am one happy girl.
My mom and dad rock, literally and figuratively.

Holden, chill out!

I just finished The Catcher in the Rye. I had to read a lot of classic novels in my English classes, but The Catcher in the Rye was never one of them. I've been trying to read classic novels when I can. 

I have to say ... I wanted to knock Holden Caulfield out most of the time. Really! I haven't heard a bigger whiner or a bigger rambler in my life. He hated everything, or everything drove him crazy. And the minutiae! The things he found bothersome! How could anyone stand to be around that guy?

Now of course, the poor guy had mental problems about a mile long. 

Then ... the more I thought about it and was honest with myself ... the more I realized that in many ways, I can be like him. I certainly have plenty of things in my life I can fix or make better, but I choose to be very judgmental of others sometimes instead. Where's the fairness in that? 

And when you get through the muck of his thoughts, Caulfield really does have some good points. About phony people, about ruining things, about not being able to truly find peace anywhere. It's all valid. 

There's a sense of accomplishment when you read a book like The Catcher in the Rye. And you always wish you had paid more attention to the classics when you had to read them in school. But that sort of hindsight isn't anything new. 

Mama needs a timeout

I think I need a break.


I am sick of work. I am sick of the politics, the bullshit, the gameplaying, the petty comments and attitudes …

I am sick of other parents. Again, the bullshit, the gameplaying, the petty attitudes …

Does EVERYONE feel the need to prove something? Just live your goddamn life!

It's gotten to the point that when I actually encounter someone genuinely nice and normal, it feels like fucking Christmas.

I'm not even sure I know how to interact with such people anymore.

I used to love living in (and around) the city, surrounded by lots of people and life.
  Now I just want a giant plot of land with a razor-wire fence and patrolling attack dogs.

Maybe it's me ...

... just being an asshole, but should people ask for prayers for minor things? I see that on Facebook all the time.


I could be the wrong person to rant about this, but shouldn't prayers be reserved for serious illness or other dire circumstances? Not like, "Pray my daughter gets accepted into community college?" or "Please say a prayer for me. I am going in for hangnail surgery."

Fed up

Sometimes you just get so sick of being shit on. Then you get pissed.

No, I'm fine ... really. It's allergies.

I am a very sensitive, emotional person. Over the years, I've learned to put up a facade in order to appear otherwise, and in some instances, I have a thicker skin than I used to. But really, I am a soft ball of emotional mush.


Most of the time, it's an awful affliction to have -- the propensity to cry.

I cry at movies. My family drives me INSANE by looking at me to see if I'm crying at sad moments on the screen. I actually get pissed and end up stomping off. Can't a woman cry in peace?

I cry at stories I hear or read about.

I cry if I attend a funeral to support a friend, even if the deceased is a person I've never met.

I cry when I think about the fact that my youngest child is nearly 8 years old, or the fact that my oldest is nearly a bona fide teenager and high school student.

It's mortifying to be crying at a movie when the person you're with is dry-eyed, or when you leave a live production or dance performance with red, puffy eyes. No one else looks like that!

And when it came time for our youngest to graduate from the preschool our three children attended for 10 straight years, well … I was a mess. A total weeping mess. Was anyone else surrounded by wadded up tissues? Noooo.

I've tried all manner of ways to NOT cry in the above situations. I physically steel myself. I will my eyes to remain dry. I clench my jaw and stare hard into space. I immediately try to change the direction of my thoughts. I even ridicule myself for being such a wuss.

Sometimes it works; mostly, it doesn’t.

The most I can hope for is that if people notice, they have mercy on me and look the other way or pretend not to notice.

Anyone else out there a chronic crier? I wish so much that I could control my emotions better. I often wonder what's wrong with me? I wish that I was one of those women who remain steely eyed even in moments of emotional turmoil. I am a strong, in-control person with a firm grip on my crazy life. Except for these maddeningly weak moments.

When your 12-year-old daughter has a better handle on her emotions than you do, you know you've got issues.

Pass the tissues.