Someday I’m going to be famous…

…do I have talent? Well no… – “Celebrity”, Brad Paisley

Who HASN’T dreamt of being famous.

Having lots of money and fame and fortune and the ability to do anything you want.

I’m sure famous people have it easy. (Except for Gwenyth. And THAT right there is the reason I wouldn’t want to be famous. I couldn’t deal with the internet trolls.)

I’ve wanted to be everything – I wanted to be an author, an actor and every Olympic cycle I’m convinced I could have been an athlete. I totally could have been a gymnast – minus my total lack of flexibility. Or a figure skater – minus my total lack of coordination. Or an ice dancer – again, minus my total lack of coordination. My swizzles would have been AWESOME. Or a swimmer – minus my lack of height. Or a diver – minus my total lack of flexibility and my paralyzing fear of heights.

And all minus my complete and total lack of athleticism. I think that’s the true reason I never became an Olympian.

And then there’s the fact I wanted (want) to be a Broadway actor. Minus the fact that I’m paralyzed when the focus is on me. And I can’t carry a tune to save my life.

Now I’m content where I am. My job at a not-for-profit isn’t going to make me famous (most likely) and it’s certainly not going to make me rich. But it makes me happy and I *usually* enjoy going to my job. I don’t have paparazzi stalking me and I don’t have internet forums dedicated to talking about my massive thighs. We’re facinated by the lives of celebrities (and making people celebrities see: the Kardashians) but I don’t think we realize that it might have some downsides. Not that I feel sorry for them.

And while I may not have any talents that will make me famous, if I get really desperate, there’s always the next season of the Bachelor.

Inspired by the following prompt: Have you dreamt of becoming famous? What would your claim to fame be? Comedy? Acting? Writing? Race car driving? Go!

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Red faced

The Office is one of my favorite shows. Ever. But I have a problem when I watch it. It’s like watching a scary movie. I get ungodly uncomfortable and have to look away, cover my eyes, plug my ears. I literally squirm in my seat.

Oh god. This episode. I can’t…

And that’s on TELEVISION.

In real life, I can’t make eye contact with the person embarrassing him/herself. Or talk to them. Sometimes I wander off…and clearly I’m the most uncomfortable one. You would think that I was doing something stupid (well, I am). It’s insane how much embarrassing moments make me uncomfortable. It’s even worse for me when the person being embarrassed doesn’t realize it.  This pertains to real life and fiction – it’s made me walk away from conversations and turn off the TV.

And then there’s when I get embarrassed. Or perceive to be in an embarrassing situation (I’m always going to read into a situation and make it 50% more uncomfortable.)And then I dwell on it. Does anyone else do this?  I had a major foot-in-mouth, incredibly embarrassing moment on Monday that involved technology and not paying attention. I immediately apologized and may be OVERLY nice to this person now, which is just as embarrassing – but I’ve dwelled on it all week. I just start thinking about it and my face gets all red and warm and I chew on my lips and I shift in my seat. (I have a LOT of tells).

And then there’s the time I walked up to a girl thinking she was my friend. It turns out she wasn’t as she informed me (kinda rudely).

It was the first day of kindergarten.

in 1993.

I was 5 years old.

I’m now 26.

The most embarrassing point of this story? It’s the point when I get embarrassed by it 21 years later…

Inspired by: Do you feel uncomfortable when you see someone else being embarrassed? What’s most likely to make you squirm?

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Everything Will Be Just Fine

When I get back on land/Well I’ll never get my chance/Be ready to live and it’ll be ripped right out of my hands/Maybe someday we’ll take a little ride/We’ll go up, up, up and everything will be just fine

And we’ll go up, up, up/But I’ll fly a little higher…

You may have caught this on my hiatus. And if not, take the time to digest this story. I’ll be here, tissues in hand.

Rainn Wilson (Dwight from the Office) has this thing called Soul Pancake it’s a new media company that provides various platforms to explore topics such as spirituality, creativity, religion, arts, and philosophy. And one of the things that Soul Pancake has done is create this youtube series called My Last Days. It features people who know that the end is imminent, along with their friends and family. Zach Sobiech was one of the featured stories. He was diagnosed with osteosarcoma, a bone cancer, at 14. At 17, Zach knew he was going to die.

It’s hard to know what you would do in a similar situation; how you would face your mortality at an age where you should be figuring out who you’re going to prom with; where you’re going to college; what you’re going to do with your life.

I have enough of a problem with my own mortality and I have a decade on Zach. And for me, the end isn’t spelled out. I have trouble living in the moment and enjoying it.

But Zach? Zach lived and enjoyed the moment. He went to school, he had a girlfriend, he had dreams. He didn’t stop living until the end.

One of his dreams was to be a recorded musician. He did that. And not only did he do that, but he wrote an incredible song – a goodbye to his friends and family. One that was without a doubt incredibly personal and intimate. But he shared it with the world.

And every time I listen to this song, I’m reminded of Zach’s grace and dignity. I appreciate the way that he acknowledges the darker, less happy moments. After all, it IS an incredibly frightening time – but you can tell he’s at peace. And I’m reminded of the same attitudes and the grace and dignity I’ve seen in others who are faced with their mortality – like this incredible patient of my mom’s, Emily.

And I remember to keep living for the moment. Because we never know what’s next.

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The Soundtrack to My Life: The Early Years

For as much as music is a part of my life (any given time, I’m probably listening to music, thinking of a song, or humming an earworm), I don’t remember it being a vital part of my childhood. It was there, but it doesn’t stand out. We didn’t have nightly dance parties or stand around the piano and have sing-a-longs (thank god). We DID have a piano, and there’s always been one of those whether it was my mom’s or my grandfather’s. And I remember them playing and ‘playing’ with them.

(Insert adorable picture of me and my grandfather sitting side by side on the piano bench that I know exists I just don’t have possession of).

I remember a lot of Disney – I grew up in the golden age of Disney with wonderful Alan Menkin compositions like Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin, plus Lion King. And a LOT of this song. (I don’t even have a brother. I don’t even recall wanting to do this to my sisters…)

And after my parents went to see Phantom of the Opera, my dad used to play the Prologue/Overture for us. Mainly to attempt to scare the shit out of his young, impressionable children. (I finally saw the show live when I was 20 or so. I tensed up in my seat after the auctioneer said “illumination”… [Good parenting Father.])

I remember my mom listening to Kenny G. A lot of Kenny G. And that’s all we have to say about that. (It turns out her music taste is pretty good but nothing sticks other than the Kenny G. And the Partridge Family)

I also disliked a lot of my dad’s music. (Then I realized that George Strait is a god among men and Garth Brooks is incredibly talented.) (Strangely, the thing that comes to mind the most when I think of driving in my dad’s truck and what was on the radio is Paul Harvey. And the crop futures. Never mind, not strange when you know my dad…) But some of the things he introduced me to (probably way too young) are some of my favorite guilty pleasures: Meatloaf’s “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” in particular. (Seriously. I was in like 3rd grade. This was also the time my parents introduced me to Grease. Listening to the lyrics now, I wonder what they were thinking…)

Not long after, we got our first PC (now THAT is a monumental day that I can recall with stunning clarity). As PCs did (and still do), it came with a bunch o’ bloatware. Including an interactive CD that was going to be the wave of the future – you put it in the computer and it played the videos and had facts about the musician, or it played like a regular CD. All I can recall from this interactive CD is it had Celine Dion on it. And I was OBSESSED with this song. I performed this song and it rivaled the performance of Ms. Dion. (My first CDs were from Santa – he left me the *NSYNC debut and a Celine CD. I always wondered why the Celine. I think I’m getting it now…) (So you can visualize how much I love this song: I’m writing this in a Peets. And listening to this song. And I’m having to bite my lip to not start performing…)

And from there, it took off. I discovered MTV and started finding my own way in the music world.

But bits from my childhood pop up still: I love show tunes. I love genuine country. Amazing songs from the 80s are horrible guilty pleasures. And my music tastes span the gambit. So maybe my formative years have had more effect on my tastes than I thought…

Inspired by the prompt: What sort of music was played in your house when you were growing up? What effect, (if any) did it have on your musical tastes?


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This is one night I wish I could rewind.

Went by so fast oh so sweet/Make me wanna remake a memory/Wish I had me a time machine

(side note – what the hell Gary LeVox? You’re like…old now [nope, just looked him up on Wiki. He's 43. He IS old. I'm old. I saw them for the first time in 2001. He would have been 30.])

Guys. I’ve become that girl. So ridiculously THAT girl.

During my blogging hiatus, I resorted to online dating. It was bad. SO BAD. So bad it could only be funny. (And I did get HOURS of entertainment out of the horribly bad messages. In fact, I was a little sad the day I disabled my account because now I don’t get that free entertainment). I can count on one hand the number of guys I even went out with. (I could even accidentally chop off a few fingers and still be able to count.)

Last August though – I got a message from a guy. He seemed to 1. have actually read my profile and 2. had a decent profile that made me want to know a little more about him (no trigger words talking about his excessive love of hiking/rock climbing/camping or working out; no mention of how he was there to hook up only; how enjoys chilling; or any other horrible things I’ve read that I can no longer recall…) So I messaged him back – and from there we’ve ‘talked’ almost every single day. Seven whole months of messaging, texting, face-to-face conversations (no phone – probably because of my massive aversion to the telephone. Seriously. I hate that thing. I’d rather FaceTime. And that says a lot because for one I have to do my hair and the other I don’t. And my hair can be a beast.)

After a few months, we actually got to meet up. Yes – it did take us an abnormally long time. Maybe I was scared. (I was) Maybe I was nervous. (I was) Maybe I was busy. (I was) Maybe I was making excuses because of the first two reasons (I did)

But then we did meet. And now it’s been four months of seeing each other almost every week. And I got told recently how happy I’ve been the last few months and maybe that’s true (it is) and maybe I’m having a lot of fun (I am) and maybe I play this song every weekend on my way home (I do) because I wish we could go back to the beginning of it because time flies by so fast when we’re together. (As Ted Mosby famously [recently {kinda creepily}] said I’m “remembering this”. Every stupid moment of puppy love.)

I can’t tell where this is going to go, but I know right now it’s fun and exciting and new and makes me happy. So far, they’ve all been nights I wish I could rewind…

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