July 29, 2010

Water ways

Posted in Uncategorized at 8:29 pm by A Witty Fool

“Relax and just trust me” 

He said as he shoved me down on my back, his hands cradling my shoulders. I felt my back hit the soft bed of water and tensed up.

I didn’t trust him.  I knew he would let go sooner or later, he would let go and leave me to sink or swim alone in these shallow? yes and chartered? yes, but still, its a body of water and unfammilliar territory.

I didn’t trust him, couldnt even trust myself enough to allow myself the luxury of relaxation, so when he let go …. which seemed inevitable…. I tensed up and sank…. deep, deep, deep down tot he bottom of the very shallow end of the pool.

I am taking swimming lessons.

This was my second lesson.

On my first lesson, we learned to breathe, bobbing in and out of the water. Inhaling before you dive in and only exhaling inside the water. Apparently, inhaling under water, is NOT  a good idea. .. who knew?! ..A few times to begin, I reversed the process and inhaled, or tried to inhale under water… after all of those times, I rose to the water surface, sputtering and spewing, trying to dislodge chlorine treated H2O from my abused lungs, belly and eyes. Fun!

My second lesson, was on floating. Relax, let go, and trust the instructors not to let you drown, but mostly, and eventually, you have to trust the water not to suck you in. None of which would have been a problem, if not for the small issue of ‘TRUST’.

Like I may have previously mentioned, I barely trust myself. I question my own motives, eye my decisions with suspicion (they might come back to bite me in the butt) and hesitate to follow my instints on occassion. So trusting some crazy guy who has me standing, half naked in a giant size pool, is….. unlikely.. to happen.

And so for trusting the water?…. please! I grew up in Delta state, Nigeria, surrounded by Rivers and Streams and Ponds .. oh my!.. so I know all about bodies of H2O, acting up and sucking up some innocent sucker who waded in trustingly. I also know about Mami-wata and if you think (!) for one second dat I am going to trust the water and wade in so that some mami-wata can carry me away like some voluntary sacrifice …… like my girl M’je used to say: “make Shango, Shango you!”

I can trust the water when my feet are planted firmly on solid ground… preferably a few feet from the water.

I can trust John.. my swim instructor… when my feet are planted firmly on solid ground, again, preferably away from the water.

So, needless to say, I am having a bit of a problem learning how to swim.


July 15, 2010


Posted in Life as I live it, Uncategorized at 7:16 pm by A Witty Fool

I have been one (offline) for quite a while. This is due to the fact that my personal laptop is on the fritz and my internet connection is shoddy. however, it is mostly due to the fact that I totally forgot that I had a blog. FORGOT! Makes it sound like I have better things to do, don’t it? Sadly, ‘sounds’ can be decieving. Just some randomness here and there. nothing eXciting.

On Me Vs. Nature:  I went for a walk and soak up a little bit of Sun, just becauz…… well that is whot I do ( after Jose, I should know better, but I dont) and as I stroll, i love to yank on tree branched over head or kick stones and sticks on the ground, you know to break up the monotony of just walking. Anyways, not too long ago, I am walking along, when I see a little piece of stick lying in my way. It was a short stick, only about two feet or so. It was so pretty, smooth and looked like it had just fallen off a tree… green, with patches of brown on it. I like it, so I tried to pick it up. I say ‘tried’ because as I bent down to pick it up, I blocked out it’s Sun, so the ‘stick’ wiggled and moved, trying to gettin to another spot where it could be back in the sun. Turns out, my ‘stick’ was actually a ‘snake‘, sunning itself. Men, oh Men! I jumped, screamed and ran!!!  The snake paid me no mind, simply rolled on to another side and kept on soaking up it’s sun.

SCORE: Nature 1, Moi 0.

On Me Vs. Love:    I recently fell in love again. (yes, for the seventh time this year) with this totallyhot guy at my job. Tall, not so dark, green eyes,  and a dimple on the left check (face check, dont know about his butt checks… yet. hehehehe) So very cute and a bit of a dork. PROBLEM: He is in love (or like) with a cheerleader type girl who works with us. She of course, is Ms. Popular and would not go out with a dork type no matter how cute, so she is aiming for a hook up with Macho Macho Man.. a super arrogant, every girl wants me type of guy, who of course used to be a football player. He is so used to ‘every girl’ wanting him, that he only sets his cap and energy toward the one (or two) girls who do NOT seem to and right now, that seems to be me.

So to recap, the new girl wants the dork, the dork wants the cheerleader, the cheerleader wants the footballer and the footballer wants the fresh meat…. em, I mean… new girl.  Geesh!  We never really get out of high school do we?!

SCORE: Love 1, Me 0.

On Me Vs. Weight Loss:  Four words: Jenny Craig must die! I decided to go on a diet w hile back. I joined a gym, started dieting, walked EVERYWHERE and gave up chocolate. GAVE UP CHOCOLATE! I haven’t eaten chocolate in months. MONTHS!  and with no sexual napalm to numb the pain. months and months of exercise, dieting and NO CHOCOLATE! and I just weighed myself, preparing to celebrate my grand weight loss achievement…. I gained 3 pounds…. gained… GAINED!!

pshiee! So I went out and got me some German double fudge chocolate, chocolate cake…. It was a great day.

SCORE: Weight 3, Me 0.

Like I said, nothing Bloggable happening right now.

June 8, 2010

A NOT so Birthday Story

Posted in Life as I live it at 11:10 pm by A Witty Fool

Picture this. .. trust me, having a visual helps.

Sunday night. It had been hot and humid on Sunday, as only a summer day in Boston can be, until about 4pm when a thunder storm blew by, dumping gallons of water and cooling the air. I love it when it rains, during and after, especially when it storms. I like to dance and jump around, in the rain, soaking up the water, the wind, the sounds and the energy, but now (after a small case of mistaken identity, that resulted in whispers of “ogbanje” ,”abiku”, mami-water, evil spirit, etc, behind my back) I mostly, just stick to talking long walks and soaking up the cool breeze in the aftermath of a storm.

And it came to pass (believe me, this is a tale of biblical proportions… almost) that on this particular night (this past Sunday) I decided to go for a walk after the storm, also after midnight. So I am trolling and listening to music, day dreaming about: a// the return of a brand new Supernatural season (is Sammy or isn’t Sammy, that is the question?!)  b// this totally hot guy at my new job (dude, he IS hot!) c// winning the lottery and other various day dreams that I get occasionally, when I heard a voice speak to me from deep in the dark, dark night.

And it said unto me:

“hey yo, Mami. Pe ra qui” (Spanish. Don’t ask me questions!)

I look around, but see nothing and no one, so I continue my on jaunt, when the voice spoke again:

“hey Mami, wot? You no like Spanish mens?” YES, he said “mens” and NO! English as a second language is NOT an excuse!

So I look around again and on an instinct, (the self same instinct that makes a rabbit disappear into it hole just when hunter-man reaches for his riffle.) I look down. Yep, I literary, had to look down, just to get a glimpse of the ‘top’ of his head, and there he was, Shorty Mac Short Short.

About Shorty: I’ve been seeing him around for some time. He hangs out with friends at a spot near my house and he has been eyeing me for a while. Yes, I am hotter than Halle Berry in a bikini, on a Jamaican summer day, but even I have to concede that the MAIN attraction that Mac Short Short and the other members of what I now fondly refer to as the Leprechaun crew (short men that hit on me) feel, is in the conquering of a tall chick. I do not need my one class in general psychology to understand that for a man who is insecure about his height (or lack thereof) sleeping with a tall girl pretty much amounts to a conquering if you will. Like she may be taller than me, but I fked her, put her in her place…the bedroom… and if they can get you to cook for them afterwards???!!!! Men have fragile egos and the egos attached to a short and insecure man is EVEN MORE so! They consider it a grave insult for a girl to be taller than they are and the “macho” in them will not be appeased until they have put you (said tall girl) in your place by sleeping with you or getting you to cook for them (the sex one is the better option, of course). This is why short men, tend to be more chauvinistic than their taller counterparts. .. it is a height ‘envy’ thing… just ask Bonaparte.

Disclaimer: Note.. this does NOT apply to ALL short men, just 99.9% of them and almost ALL of the ones with whom I have come in contact. Also, have a theory on short girls, but I will not expound on it here because it serves no purpose and also because I have reason to fear for my life if I dare. ..

but I digress……

So anyways, I say Hi to Mac Shorts and keep walking, but he grabs my hand and says:

“hold on chicka, whats your name?”

“Alex” I reply. (Once when a guy was hounding me, I became rude and told him off. As I walked away, he tried to embarrass me by calling out: “bitch! U aint even that cute! You probably a man, with your tall ass!” so I deepened my voice, turned around and replied: “Yeh dawg, I’m Alex. What?! like you ain’t know.” The look on his face, was PRICELESS!!!!! And since then, Alex has been my go to name when a guy is being a pest.)

Anyways, Spanish guy did not blink, merely replies: “Alex, si? That s a pretty name for you mami. My name is Jose.” (insert obvious joke about yet another Spanish guy named Jose here)

 Me: em.. nice to meet you Jose, goodnight.

Jose: Alex, damn, wait one second. Can I get your number?

Me: No

Jose: why not?

Me: cuz, I got a boyfriend (yes, I am still single, so I lied… sue me!)

Jose: he ain’t got to know nothing

Me: I know, but I don’t want to.

Jose: what? You no like Spanish gys?

Me: goodnight

Jose: oh ok. But before you go, can I get a kiss?

Me: ignoring the idiot, I keep on walking.

Jose: come on Alex. I see you around all the time. I been liking you. One kiss? Un beso, por favor, hun?”

I keep on walking……. allow me to make one more detour and point out that ALL this time, I had been walking on the road, while he was walking right along on the pavement, which had been raised about 4 or 5 inches off the road, so he had a 4/5 inch advantage on me, and I STILL had to look down to see the top of his head. Home boy did not even come up to my chest area! Even if I was inclined to kiss him, what was I gonna do? squat?!

 …… anyways, I ignore him and keep on walking.

Jose: men, come on! He actually snapped at me! As I turned to (not so politely) tell him what to do with his kiss, my question (about how eXactly the kiss was even gonna happen) was answered. He jumped, throwing one of his arms around my neck while the other hand grabbed my face, trying to hold it in place for his kiss. SERIOUSLY!

This is where the visual helps. ….. I screamed and started trying to run off, eXcept Jose was hanging on to my neck. Now, I was no long standing next to the pavement, I was running down the road and because Jose no longer had that little boost that the pavement gave him, his legs where dangling in the air, as he hung on (tightly) to my neck! I am paralyzed by fear and shock at first, until I realized that the little bastard was trying to wrap his legs around my waist. I shoved him away from me, he swung up and into the air, out to the left, and then back down and to the right. Swinging like a pendulum, STILL attached to my neck. But then I got an idea, so I shoved him again, just as hard as I could and as he swung hard into the air again, I squatted! and his hand slipped off from around my neck. He must be athletic, because he landed on his feet, but before he could gain his equilibrium and turn around to find me, I kicked him right on the tush. He fell over and I ran off, after getting in another kick.

 I got home, shaking and after a LONG, hot shower, I fell into bed and allowed myself to melt into tears, eXcept I realized, I wasn’t crying, I was laughing. Laughing! Laughing, because this is just the type of bullshit, that only ever, EVER happens to ME!

And I promise y’all, THIS is a true story!

Happy Freaking Birthday to ME!

May 18, 2010

Youth Envy

Posted in Life as I live it at 10:02 pm by A Witty Fool

Was on the train earlier, sat down next to a small group ( 3 deep) of girls, teenagers, maybe about 14 or 15 year olds. One of the girls was crying. Apparently, she had just been dumped and was completely broken hearted, wailing and lamenting.

“I cant believe he dumped me. I didn’t even do anything! And he didn’t even say why. Oh my God! This is some embarrassing? I love him so much? Why would he break up with me?”

One of her friends tried to console her.

“Its okay Trisha*. He is a jerk and he wasn’t even that cute anyways.”

That didn’t help. Trisha kept on tearing up. “ He is too. He is soo cute! Oh my God, why did he break up with me? Did he say anything to you? I love him so much. What am I gonna do? What if he never speaks to me again? What if I never get another boyfriend like ever again?”

The  other (seemingly more jaded) friend chimed in: “oh, Trisha, you so will! You are so pretty and you are cool too. You so will get another boyfriend.”

Trisha was not consoled: “ but I don’t want another boyfriend. I want Tony*. I love Tony, I could never love anybody else, like EVER!”

I couldn’t help it. I smiled. Now, I am sorry that the girl was broken hearted, but mostly, I felt amusement and something else that I later identified as … envy. I was (SLIGHTLY!) envious of the 15 year old who just got dumped by her first love!!

Now I am not some old woman (see image)  sitting back and watching jealously as the young live life. I realized that what I felt envious of, was the depth and the intensity of that young girl’s emotions, even the sympathy of her friends carried an air of intensity. I can’t not remember the last time, I felt so hurt, so heartbroken, about anything.  I was envious of them because they were feeling their emotions, in that deeply intense way that only the really young ever really do.

I would NOT for all the Tea in China (plus half the Tea in Great Britain as well) want to relive my teenage years. They were great and great fun, however, we grow out of them for a reason. That being said, I do miss some aspects of youth.

For instance, I miss the intensity with which you feel EVERY single thing.  Granted, THIS is more than half of what makes youth so painful, but, it is also the main reason, our teenaged years are the most memorable of our lives. All our senses are super-hyped and our emotions are on overdrive. Every high is high, high, high and every low seems to reach to the very depths of our souls. As a youngster (oh my God, I just said “youngster”!) every love is TRUE and all friendships are FOR LIFE.  Your dreams are so real, so vivid, so close and in such vibrant colors that you do not for a second doubt that all you have to do is reach out forward and grab them. You see your life just the way you want it to be and NOTHING in the world could ever shake your conviction that the life you see for yourself is the eXact one that you are going to get.

I also miss the innocence and the naivety of youth. You know that feeling, where everything is new, interesting, fun, funny, good and true. Sure it leaves you vulnerable, but it also leaves you unencumbered with the restraints that cynicism can place on you. You love, trust and feel with a genuine realness.  As an adult though, trust is shakable, sometimes, very easily so and truth is relative, but in youth, trust is absolute and truth is unwavering. I guess I envied that girl the absolute conviction she had in her love and the eternity of it. I mean, sometimes, I don’t even know if I would recognize love if it walked up and bitch slapped me.

And Faith. Boy do you have faith! In God, in yourself, in your family, in your friends, life, everything! I remember my youngest sister at about six years old, waiting on the front porch. I asked her what she was doing and she said she was waiting for her “doggie”.  Apparently, she had prayed to God to get her a dog and she was waiting for it to show up. … she got the dog, but that is a story for another blog.

Anyways, I got off the train, but not without looking back to the crying girl for one last time. She had made me fall back into the concentrated joys and highs and the extreme lows of first love, and the powerful and seeming eternal bonds of friendships, the way everything had seemed so powerful and HUGE and great and destined. I guess I she just made me miss the intensity of my passions from that time when reality and life had not yet gotten in the way.  I envied her that and I kinda wish I could have told her so. 

This may be what they mean when they say youth is wasted on the young.

* names changed to protect my ass.

May 14, 2010

which would YOU rather have?

Posted in Life as I live it, status, Uncategorized at 7:51 pm by A Witty Fool

Peace or Freedom?

May 4, 2010

Mr. Almost, doesn’t count

Posted in Life as I live it at 7:17 pm by A Witty Fool

I have been a big reader for as long as I can remember. Matter of fact, my earliest memory is of sitting in front of our car garage, on a low bench stool … and my short lil’ legs could still not reach the ground… and reading something.

Thru my most formative years, I spent ALL of my free time reading the only books that where available to me… ROMANCE novels, specifically, the Mills & Boon (which all of you fellow book ‘hags’ will fondly recall and refer to as M&B). M&B made no pretensions, it was what it was, unapologetically romantic ….. with a CAPITAL Romance!

In the M&B universe, the ‘Sheik’ was always, tall, dark, handsome, seductive, sexy, masterful but sensitive, arrogant but sweet and against all odds he always, loved the foreign girl enough to risk his throne and kingdom. The leather wearing, bike riding, bad boy, was also, always tall, dark and handsome, secretly a CEO of his own company, millionaire, who was just passing thru town when fate intervened and brought him to his Soul mate…. the mousy, timid, beautiful-but-doesn’t-know-it librarian.

The sex is always mind blowing,

The guy is always multi-dimensional (example: arrogant, but exhibiting moments of humility and modesty)

Compromises where never made, because love demands ALL or nothing and all was always given.

The guy is always (note I said: ALWAYS) over 6 feet tall, well built, handsome, rich, tough but gentle, with a great sense of humor evident especially in his ability to laugh at himself.

Now, I never read Cinderella, Snow White, or all of them other fairy tales and while I would never claim to be a feminist, I still sneer a bit (ok, a lot) at the idea of a Prince Charming riding in to rescue the damsel in distress. Which is why, I was caught of a bit of guard by my own self yesterday.

 I had been online chatting with a male (married with children) friend of mine, when he accused me of looking for Mr. Perfect, adding that anyone who was looking for the “perfect” partner would end up old and alone, because all we would ever get, was “almost”, so instead of looking for the perfect guy, I should be looking for the guy who was “almost” the right one, because that is the closest that I (or anyone else really) would ever get to it. That is, instead of Mr. tall, dark an handsome, I should be looking for Mr. Almost as tall, a lil’ bit tanned and almost that handsome. Instead of Mr. Romantic, I should accept Mr. At least I get flowers on my birthday, etc… y’all get the idea.

I was thrown because until then, I hadn’t realized just how much my earlier M&B years had influenced and shaped my idea of the man I wanted to marry. ( I turned down a marriage proposal once because he “didn’t do it right” and THAT should have been a hint, but I guess I can be a bit obtuse…. but I digress). I thot about being with my “almost” guy and it completely freaked me out because I realized that I didn’t want him (Mr. Almost). I wanted the leather wearing, motorcycle riding, tall, dark, handsome, rich, arrogant, but humble, stubborn but sweet, infuriating but funny, masterful yet gentle, bad boy, CEO of his own company, self made millionaire, Sheik of his own small desert country, that Mills & Boon promised me!

I mean seriously, does anyone know an ‘almost’ bad boy?

Ok. Ok. My idiot moment has passed. … on to a more serious note. I do know the difference between the M & B universe and the real world which I inhabit and while Johnny Depp is taken (oh cruel, cruel, fate!) is it fair of me (to my self and to the unfortunate Mr. Almost) to settle for Almost? I personally think that settling for “almost” is the #1 reason marriages fail at such an amazing rate nowadays but I guess I have ulterior motives behind making that argument.

For me, the idea of Mr. Almost, implies giving up and/or giving in, surrendering to pressure, time, needs or whatever. If you know what you want and what will make you happy, why aim instead for “almost” right? Who ever waited their whole lives for the man/woman who would make them “almost” happy?

April 25, 2010

What a gip!

Posted in Life as I live it, Uncategorized at 4:20 pm by A Witty Fool

           Okay, so I am stumbling along with my day just the other day, when I stumbled onto a guy, a tall, good-looking, brown-eyed guy, with dimples and a smile that could melt honey (if ever honey needed melting). Implications of burning heat: INTENDED.

            We got to talking and turns out we had a few things in common…. em, okay… One thing, but still, it was a pretty important thing (He likes books too). In addition to being handsome and liking books, he also seemed to be loaded, or at least, pretty comfortable. He had a great job (steady employment is always a plus) and was looking forward to spending his summer weekends at the family home on the Cape. If you live anywhere near here, then you know that “the Cape” means Cape Cod or maybe even Martha’s Vineyard and a summer home on the cape, means that you are at the very least ‘comfortable’…..but I digress.

He smiled, I smiled.

He flirted, I flirted

He said, I … suspected,

… turns out he was married, married young according to him, procreated and remains married due to familial obligations.

He Xplained, I passed.

Later, (not much later honestly, I am not known for my self discipline) I almost, kinda, soughta, a little, regretted passing (seriously, he was FOINE!), but my morals, principles or what ever the bloody hell you wanna call them would not allow me to knowingly begin or even to contemplate starting something with a married man, no matter the condition of the wedded (blissful or not) union. ……

            ….. and to be quite frank, it pissed me the bloody hell OFF! Pissed me off a whole lot! It sucks having morals, good manners and all of that other crap. It makes you walk away from some luscious deal, like enjoying a beautiful summer spending some guy’s money and a possible cape cod beach side vacation, for some stupid reason like.. the ‘sponsor’ is married.

            Yeah, I know that we would have broken up eventually. I mean the guy is married and chances are he was fibbing (ok, so out right lying.. but I am trying to rationalize here) about the state of his union and trying to pull a ‘Tiger’ (Woods, that is), but Tiger’s mistress (that’s old English for: “#1 whore) just got paid $10 million (count with me people….. 1 million, 2 million, 3 million,  FOUR !!! and keep going) to go away. So essentially, home girl just made 10 million American dollars for sleeping around with a guy who she already KNEW to be married!  Jesse James’s Hitler loving chick is apparently now shopping around for her own reality show and asking for millions, while John Edwards baby mama is now getting paid by magazines and TV stations to pose naked, grant interviews and tell the world about how much of a bitch his wife really was and why he HAD to cheat on her.

            My point? if any of these women had any kind of morals or principles of anything, they would NOT now be millions of dollars richer and world famous and ME? I can’t even creep around for a free summer vacation! Talk about getting gipped!

            I have said it before and I’ll say it again, I blame my father! Teaching me to be considerate of others, drilling good manners and honestly into my head, raising me to be a good person…. Talk about some bullshit! I could so totally having be lounging on the Cape this summer!

April 14, 2010

My Family, in conversation.

Posted in Life as I live it at 10:52 pm by A Witty Fool

So, I am filling in my insurance beneficiary form when out of some morbid curiosity, I turned to my sister and asked:  “would you kill me for a half a million dollars?” her reply? “Dude, I would kill you for a Klondike bar!”. That is my immediate younger sister -T. She likes to say she is 22 yrs old. I agree, mostly out of a deep seated fear for my life….. the girl is.. “questionable

My other younger sister -the family baby- is 12 years old and JADED! Completely cynical about the world and the people in it. She is pretty, beautiful really (dats a family trait! truely!) but she is so jaded thay when she is complimented on her beauty, like say: “Abs, honey, you look really good.” her standard reply is: “yeah I know.” Try and correct her, like: “Honey, you are supposed to say Thank you, even if you already know that you are pretty.” I tried that once and she replied.: “I am not pretty, I am beautiful. I just dont know why anybody else cares!”

My immediate younger brother is a sort Doctor type person. I dont know what he does, but he works in a hospital and apparently he is quite a catch, ‘cuz some chicks (and when I say some chicks, I mean about 6 of them) at my church have resorted to some real low down dirty shame kinda methods to try and snag him. Personally, I dont see it, unfortunately, his ego does.

me:Your head don dey swell well well oh (Your head is getting really big)”

him: “that just a side effect of my disorder.. .. I suffer from a chronic lack-of-a-flaw-itis.”

My second brother suffers from the exact same disorder (THAT is not a family trait. I am humble despite MY fabulous great looks!) According to him, he tries to be humble, but his immense handsomeness make it damn near impoosible. This bro is 15 going on 38 and Intelligent! He actually got a 104% on his Math for this past semester and he does extra credit homework…… for fun! what can I say… he is a dork, with a capital D! He is also a smart mouth, smart ass! I happened to mention that I was broke, his response?: “you are always broke”

me: “hey, half the world is broke right now. It George Bush’s fault”

him: okay, but YOU have been broke since Clinton was President!”

I have one other sister, she is a year or so older than I am she is turning 22 Today. Happy Birthday!

So, there. My family in conversation. THIS is why I am so weird!

April 1, 2010


Posted in Life as I live it at 3:23 pm by A Witty Fool

It is a certifiable disease or at least it should be. Wanderlust: that insatiable need to be anywhere but here. “Here” of course, being anywhere, where I am at the moment and have been for too long. “Too long” being relative can fluctuate from one day, to one week, to a month, a year or any length of time before I start to feel the need to be some place else. It is a vicious cycle, a cruel and demanding mistress, a mental disorder, one that sadly, I seem to suffer from.

Wander lust rears its head at the oddest and most inconvenient of times too. I have actually had to quit two jobs because my bosses would NOT let me take some time off of work to travel… simply because I had only been at both jobs for a short period of time. I get asked a lot if it was a lot of fun working at the Airport. It wasn’t exactly barrel loads of fun, but I got barrel loads of free and/or cheap plane tickets to anywhere in the world. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make.

I always say that I travel for the excitement, the thrill of getting off the plane in a strange place, surrounded by different people, who speak a foreign language. Everything if fresh and new and all ties to the old and overly familiar reality, for the time being are loosened. I get to see foreign and exotic places, meet new people and maybe even be a different person. Life is suspended and perspective is redefined.

I used to blame, my restless legs and roving mind on youth. I wanted to travel and see the world before I had to settle down and calmly accept responsibility and all that come with it. Now, however, I have to admit that I am NOT irresponsible, not at all, I just suffer from a severe case of Wander Lust.

This sounds like an eXciting mental defect, you know as opposed to the regular painful and disturbing ones like, you know,  plain ole’ crazy, but it can have some very painful side-effects, like calling your boss from the airport to let ‘em know that you are leaving on a jet plane and don’t know when you’ll be back again, and calmly saying “okay”, when they threaten to fire you if you don’t show up for work that day. All this knowing that you have bills to pay and a life to live.

Relationships have also been sacrificed to this disease. I had to break off at least one semi-serious relationship, because it became clear that ‘he’ was never going to grasp the fact that I am NOT the girl who will be satisfied to sit at home, quietly waiting to build and care for a family. Sadly, I have come to realize that I may be the chick that drives the kids over to their father’s work place in the middle of the afternoon and leave them there because of a sudden need I got to be in Yugoslavia!

Maybe I am running from something –like reality, responsibility, or something else/deeper – Freud will need to work real hard and over time to sort that one out. Right now, after two years of gallivanting from the USA to the UK, Europe and Africa, I am back home and have been settled in for the past seven months. SEVEN months! I am beginning to feel the strangle hold across my chest again, the need to escape into a foreign based reality.

I am starting a new job, looking into getting my own apartment and trying to settle into some sort of stability and routine in my life and NOW, Wander Lust rears its ugly head. I suddenly NEED to be in Jerusalem, Delhi, Rio, anywhere but here….  gives strength to the whole.. ‘I am running away’ argument, hun? Sadly, (but maybe NOT so sadly) I am too broke and my new job is fabulous (and I WILL NOT quit!) sucks for me though. I hear Peru is great this time of year… Costa Rica too.

March 23, 2010

A Supernatural Blog

Posted in Life as I live it at 3:37 pm by A Witty Fool

I am a Supernatural dork. I am. I cried when Dean died and did a lil’ Irish gig when he punched his way back out of the ground. I think Sammy is so sweet and super cuddly and Yes, I call him Sammy. And this is sad and true, but: I did not watch the first season of the TV show ‘LEVERAGE’ because I was still upset with one of its stars – Aldis Hodge- because he (well, his Supernatural character) was the one that stabbed Sammy in the back.

Ok, I am a dork period, but I am especially and even more dorky when it comes to Supernatural (the TV show, not the freaky unexplainable stuff). On Thursdays at 9pm, my sister knows to surrender the remote control and vacate the vicinity. No talking, no chewing, no breathing or any other distracting activity allowed, or the evil bitch in the house will NOT just be inside the TV.

Now I have been accused of only watching the show because the stars are supremely gorgeous…. Such a ridiculous and unfounded accusation! Shoot, the guys are not even all that good looking …. YES, that is the story that I am going with.

Okay, so the guyz are HAWT but besides that, I love Supernatural because:

The Writing is Fabulous! While the content, story line and the (fictional) world in which Supernatural is based is harsh, violent, volatile and scary, the show does not lend itself too deeply to the darkness. Just when it gets too heavy and dark, the writers pull you back into a safe, funny world. The dialogue a lot of the time is straight up Hilarious and the eye rolling, sideways glances, hand gestures and more of the physical comedy on the show is side splitting. I mean if you saw the episode where super macho Dean screamed in fear like a six year old girl over a cat jumping out of a locker and did not laugh until you fell off your seat…. Well then, your funny bone was surgically amputated at birth and if you haven’t seen it? RUN, don’t walk to a store and buy the Supernatural DVD’s. NOW!

The Music is Awesome! I don’t know if it can be called a musical score or a soundtrack, but what ever it is, the music on SPN is pretty great. The first time I saw the show, I believe it was in the second season, I was browsing through the TV channels when I heard Carry On my Wayward Son, by Kansas. Dude! Did anyone even know that song anymore? I thought I was the only one that still knew it! I had to stop and watch for a minute, because any show that had such a cool intro- song, would have to be at least, semi cool. …. and I haven’t stopped watching it since. A few episodes ago when I heard Bob Seger’s “Rock and Roll never forgets” I freaked! And AC/DC “ThunderStruck”?! Classic Rock! So awesoommeee!!

The Brothers! Okay fine, the brothers are not exactly ugly, cute, not bad looking, handsome, beautiful, eXquisitely and fabulously gorgeous, but all that aside, I love SPN because of their relationship with each other. (For all you Sam/Dean girls, you do know that they are brothers, right? Ish! LOL) Their relationship is weirdly “co-dependent” yes Doctor we know, but they are also loyal and loving to the point of death… literarily. They are different but compliment each other, they listen to each other.. and then they do whatever the hell they want, but they at least listen. They understand each other and love each other, even when one of them brings on the freaking apocalypse.

Apart from each other (Dean, relax, You’ll get your brother back!) the brothers are emotionally damaged, not to mention emotionally unavailable (em.. hi.. Dean). They are crazy, funny, LOYAL, dorky (Hi, Sammy!), weird (hey, I love them, but they are weird!) and eXtremely Cool! So freaking cool! I’m talking torn jeans, worn leather, classic rock and old muscle cars cool. What’s not to Love?

So, anyways, after a long and painful five weeks hiatus, Supernatural is finally back with a Brand New episode this week! I am on pins and needles, it’s like Christmas eve all over again! Yeah I know, SAD! but like I said, I am a Supernatural dork!

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