Let me take you down because I'm going to...1994!

Ahh, Troy Dyer. Didn't you just LOVE him?? Brooding, grungy AND played guitar.

**In accordance with the This American Life challenge I proposed to myself, the next topic on the list is Vacations…




The year was 1994. I traveled to Iowa for a week to see my cousin and stay at her new apartment (which was only a block away from her parent’s home) and celebrate her new found freedom. When I was younger, we (my mom and I) never went on “family” vacations so I traveled to Iowa every summer to visit my two cousins, we’ll call them Meg and Amy, and though I enjoyed staying at my aunt and uncle’s house, when Meg got her own apartment, I was beyond excited to be her roommate for a week.

Of course the first thing we did was decide we were going to get some alcohol. Meg’s boyfriend was old enough to buy so we had that covered. Amy had already picked up some smokes, no more having to sneak puffs in her closet at her parent’s home (which we almost got caught doing during my previous visit).
The movie Reality Bites just came out on VHS. (Remember when Winona Ryder was in every other movie that came out??) Booze, cigs, movies – we were set, almost…what a about boys?? On a previous visit, I had met a couple boys my cousin Amy went to school with. She’d mail me pics of them along with updates on their relationship status and which information she’d shared about me with them. For me, being 16 and boy crazy, the ‘party’ we planned was not complete without the company of boys.

I cannot recall how we ended up meeting up with one of the boys, we’ll call him John, but we were quick to tell him about Meg’s new apartment and “we’re getting beer and you should come over, blah, blah, blah” and he showed up later with a few friends. The things I remember about that night are as follows: we all drank and smoked, Amy had one too many cigs, one too many beers and ended up getting sick and walking back to her parent’s home, John and his friends left, I stayed up late into the night talking with Meg’s friend Shawn, who I also had a crush on even though I knew he was gay, and he told me a series of books he had just started reading by Anne Rice (the first being Interview with a Vampire).

The next night, Meg decided she would stay at her boyfriends place, Amy was sick with a hang over, and I had the apartment to myself. John had mentioned the night before that we should hang out again before I left so he and his friends came over and picked me up. We went to someone’s house and drank, then back to Meg’s apartment to drink some more. His friends left and John and I stayed up talking (and making out) and listening to music, talking about music, making out to music. He had brought a mixed tape with (remember those?!) and I absolutely LOVED every song (most of which I’d never heard before). When he left that night, he forgot the tape. I promised myself I’d give it back if he asked for it but when he picked me up on his scooter the next day to take me to breakfast, he never mentioned the tape.

I only spoke with John one more time after that breakfast. He promised to call and/or write and he did call, once, and I cannot recall what we talked about. I kept that tape for YEARS. I would give anything to have that mixed tape back, mostly because I cannot remember all the songs on it no matter how hard I try. I just remember it was the BEST mixed tape I had ever heard. The songs, the order of the songs – genius. It’s not even that it reminds me of John at all but it reminds me of that time in my life. The 3 songs on the tape that I actually do remember are: Romeo and Juliet performed by the Indigo Girls, Wild Horses performed by The Sundays, and Strangle Little Girl by The Stranglers. Any time I hear any of these songs, I think of that time in my life.

That summer was significant because I was 16 and still figuring out who I was. When I left for vacation, my hair was down to the middle of my back, when I returned, it was cut like Winona Ryder’s in Reality Bites (5 minutes in the movie, I decided I was going to chop my hair off). I bought a copy of Interview with a Vampire and for the next year or so, read nothing but Anne Rice novels. The men in my life were Kurt Cobain (who had recently committed suicide, Shannon Hoon, Layne Stanley, and Eddie Vedder. I shopped at thrift stores and opted to spend more money on books than I did on clothes. I was a confused and aimless teenager who was about to get more confused, more aimless and go through quite the self-destructive phase.
So there you have it…I could have wrote about my trip to England during the summer of 2001, going to California with an aching in my heart once or twice, or one of the times I’ve gone to Mexico but I chose Iowa because NOBODY goes on vacation to Iowa. But when you’re 16 and living in a small town in southern Minnesota, you’re just happy to escape for a while and that trip to Iowa was one I looked forward to every summer.


This is what 1994 looks/sounds like to me:

Romeo and Juliet covered by The Indigo Girls

Wild Horses covered by The Sundays

Strange Little Girl by The Stranglers

R.I.P

The following is underlined in my copy of this book:  "People who cease to believe in God or goodness altogether still believe in the devil... Evil is always possible. And goodness is eternally difficult."

— Anne Rice (Interview with the Vampire)

‎

I Just Can't Get Enough....

I never knew I was a Wombats' fan...until I heard this song!  It's not really a "new" song as the Current has been playing it for weeks, which is years in radio life.  I don't think the shelf life is going to expire on this one though, folliers.  I imagine people dancing in their cubicles while they use their stapler as a microphone when it plays on the office radio...Now shut up and move with me!

Life in a State of Panic



"The mind is its own place and in itself, can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven."

~John Milton

The first time I had a panic attack I was around eight years old.  I was staying at my aunt's house while my cousin babysat and I woke up in a panic.  I didn't understand what was happening, my heart was beating rapidly, and I felt as if I was losing control.  My cousin awoke to me flipping out and he yelled at me to stop.  I cannot recall what exactly I was saying or doing, only the feeling.  My mother worked nights at a local bar and he called her and made me get on the phone with her.  I cannot remember exactly what she said but it was something to the effect of "Knock this shit off".  Her tone suggested there was some purpose behind my outburst, as if I could control it or maybe I was seeking attention.  Eventually the moment passed and I was fine enough to fall back to sleep.

I had panic attacks various times throughout my childhood but, of course, I did not understand what was happening at the time, neither did anyone else.  It wasn't until I was in my early 20s that I starting seeing  a doctor and was diagnosed with panic disorder.  I went on medication, began seeing a therapist and a psychiatrist and got my anxiety under control for a while.  I still struggled with depression on and off during this time but this may have been due to the fact that I was finally dealing with the events of my childhood rather than running away from them. 

The signs and symptoms of panic disorder as noted on The National Institute of Mental Health website are as follows:

People with panic disorder have feelings of terror that strike suddenly and repeatedly with no warning. During a panic attack, most likely your heart will pound and you may feel sweaty, weak, faint, or dizzy. Your hands may tingle or feel numb, and you might feel flushed or chilled. You may have nausea, chest pain or smothering sensations, a sense of unreality, or fear of impending doom or loss of control.

I can honestly say that this is a perfect description.  I have felt all of these symptoms at one time or another, sometimes all at once, while having an attack and have actually gone to the emergency room a few times.  I have spent years trying to figure out why I suffer from these attacks, not wanting to accept that this is something I will have to live with for the rest of my life.  I attribute it partly to my childhood and the environment I lived in during my "formative" years.  Because I lived in a household where I was witness to alcoholism and physical violence for YEARS, it felt as if I was in a constant state of panic.  My mom lived with this man from the time I was a toddler until I was 11 years old.  So the motto "The body never forgets" seems to hold true, so much so that to this day when I am feeling anxious, I don't always feel that my home is a place of comfort just as it surely was not when I was a child.  It's a horrible feeling when you fear you may be losing control and you cannot find solitude in the place where you live.  Anxiety takes over and I resort to that scared little girl who feels she has no one to turn to.

Many of the attacks release thoughts that add to the stress of the situation.  I'm a bad mother, a bad wife.  I'm weak.  Everyone thinks I'm weak.  This will never stop.  I'm going to be like this forever.  You're probably wondering what the point of all this is other than the obvious fact that I feel, like every person that suffers from this illness, alone, isolated.  I also need to discuss this, partly because people need to know this is not something people choose but something we live with and have to learn to cope with.  I also hope that someone, anyone who reads this and can identify with what I'm saying, may not feel so alone.  I am reminded of an excerpt from Gloria Steinem's book Revolution from Within:

As Susan Sontag wrote in Illness as Metaphor, many theories of disease "assign to the luckless ill the ultimate responsibility both for falling ill and for getting well."  And we often accept this, for it gives us an illusion of control..."We humans would rather accept culpability than chaos..."

Well, I refuse to blame myself for this disorder any longer.  It is challenging enough to simply try and cope.  I know there are people that have it worse off than I do and they don't suffer from panic attacks but to think this is again my own ignorance in thinking I can control this or that I am the cause.  The ways I can try to control it are by exercising, eating healthy, taking meds when needed, surrounding myself with people that care about and support me.  These are the things I am doing and will continue to do.  People that are weakened by this disorder, and yes it is debilitating, should never be made to feel that they are a burden or not worthy of support.  If you do, you're surrounded by the wrong people.

Real Talk Quote...

Let's Get this over with, shall we?

No BIG surprise that it has been a couple months since my last post.  I had ideas for the "poultry slam" topic, I swear I did, but time got away from me again, as time always does.  I cannot say I had as many stories to offer as Episode 3 of this American Life but then again, how much can a person talk/write about poultry?  I like chicken, it tastes good.  Dark meat is my favorite.  That's all I've got.  Seriously though, my son and I did have a plan to enter the Peeps Diorama contest around Easter time.  Yes this is a real thing, see for yourself: http://twincities.upickem.net/engine/Welcome.aspx?contestid=27999.  It sounded like a fun project and would have transfered well to the poultry themed post (peeps=baby chicks).  BUT we could not agree on the theme for the diorama.  He wanted to do a scene from Thriller, I thought perhaps a scene from Harry Potter titled Harry Peeper would be more clever.  Eventually the deadline passed and we concluded that we should have created a scene from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and called it Puffy the Peep Slayer.  Instead my son wrote a story called Puffy the Peep Slayer in which the main character, Puffy, slays the evil Peeps with a toothpick.  The Peeps are evil because their sugar-coated outside is the source of tooth decay for children all over the world.  What is more evil than cavities?  We are currently looking for a publisher.

I was also going to mention the story my sister told me after she watched "Food Inc" for a health class in college.  She described a scene in which chickens were being killed and she swore you could hear them screaming "ow, ow, ow" repeatedly.  I remember thinking she was a freakin' nut job and wondering if she smoked a joint before viewing the documentary but then I watched it.  It's clear they are shrieking for obvious reasons but I know, as well as most people, that chickens can't speak so yeah, I'm pretty sure my sister was high...or her instructor was a hard core vegan who planted this thought in the minds of her impressionable class.  Although, after watching "Food Inc" I really didn't want to eat meat, of any kind, ever again.  I found I could not quit cold turkey (pun totally intended) and even though I still enjoy feasting on flesh, I feel guilty EVERY time I do now.
But seriously, folliers, this shit is messed up:

Last but not least, check out http://poultrykeeper.com/ and join other poultry enthusiasts, if that's what you're into.

Until next time, Folliers, may the fowl be with you....

In the Springtime of My Voodoo

It's spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you've got it, you want - oh, you don't quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!
~Mark Twain

Am I turning into one of those annoying people that places a quote before EVERY post?  Maybe.  Do the titles of my posts usually reference a song some may have never heard of?  Maybe but if you don't listen to good music, that is not my fault.

This is not a post in relation to a This American Life topic.  I'm still pondering what exactly, if anything, I have to say about poultry, which is the next topic in their archives.  No folliers, this is a "because I felt the need to write" post.  Because my hope is someone somewhere enjoys the way I organize my words.

I'm feeling quite optimistic at the moment and I like it.  I like it a lot.  Perhaps it's because it's FINALLY Spring or because I'm starting a new job on Monday, April 4th or because I have the next 4 days to do things I've been putting off all Winter, such as having my dog groomed, washing my car, getting a pedicure, etc.  I'm just going to savor this moment because I'm sure, come Monday morning, I'll be a nervous wreck.  Usually the crippling fear of failure sets in EVERY time I get a new job and I doubt myself before I even begin.  Which brings me to an interesting post titled The Fun of Failure I read recently on the blog Yes and Yes. It offers a different perspective on the fear of failure and I truly felt better after reading it.  This blog is rapidly becoming one of my faves.

What other not so interesting things have I been doing since my last post?  Glad you asked (although, you may wish you hadn't).

Currently reading:


With contributors like Stephen Colbert, Nick Hornby, Will Forte and Dan Savage, you can't go wrong.












Currently obsessed with:


Yes, I know I'm about 15 years late but I started watching Buff the Vampire Slayer earlier this year and I AM HOOKED.  I like style of the creator Joss Whedon.  And I've been following the terrible acting of Sarah Michelle Gellar since she was on the TV series Swans Crossing in the early 90s.  I am just about to start season 5 of Buffy.  I have to say though, I enjoyed the first 3 seasons the most thus far.  Once they go to college (and Angel and Cordelia are gone), the show loses something.  BUT I am not a quitter and plan to watch all the way through season 7.  Then I'll probably watch the spin off show Angel too.

Not a fan of vampires, demons and the like?  Perhaps you've heard of Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, also by Joss Whedon.  It's available on Netflix and I highly recommend it.  Especially if you're a fan of Neil Patrick Harris (who isn't??).



Shopping sites I've been perusing (besides Ebay):
Lulus
ModCloth

Both offer fashion at an affordable price.  Also, here's a blog to reference for outfit ideas: What I Wore.  I absolutely loaf it.

That's all for today, Folliers...Time to start season 5!

Small-scale Sin or Something Like it...

That which we call sin in others is experiment for us.


~Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Experience," Essays, 1844


Time to blow the dust off this blog, eh? No I did not forget the challenge I presented to myself in my last entry but thanks for asking. I’ve been mulling it over since I last wrote. The topic, as decided by the This American Life archives, is small-scale sin. I’ve thought of the many angles I could “report” on this topic. Have I committed what some may believe to be “small-scale sin”? I am human, am I not? But I do not wish to incriminate myself in any way so that viewpoint was out. I tried free-writing in an attempt to answer the question “Is there such a thing as small-scale sin”? Unfortunately I began writing it on a day that I was struggling with the side effects of very little sleep and too much tea. The result was something that could very well be mistaken for a transcript of an interview with Charlie Sheen. I tried to salvage something (ANYTHING) from it but found it hard to stay on topic and not get side tracked by the issues I have with organized religion. The only part that actually pertained to the specific topic, besides the quote that precedes this entry, was the question “Who decides the scale of the sin committed?”

At last, I turned to my 7 year old son. A boy that has no formal training on the subject. A boy who, until recently, referred to any cross that he’d see as the letter “t”.  As in: “Mom, why is that lady wearing a T around her neck?” Somewhere the Religious Right is gasping (along with a few family members, I’m sure). My son is a very intelligent young man, he just hasn’t had a continued dose of bible serum pumped in him for the past 7 years and I’m okay with that. Somehow, he has still managed to learn about God through friends, reading books on the subject, television and asking his parents various questions.

Moving back to the topic: one day, on the way home from picking him up from school, I asked him if he knew what the word “sin” meant. He said he’d heard it before but wasn’t sure. I explained to him what “some people” believe it to be and the potential consequences of the sinner’s actions. He thought about it for a moment and then spoke aloud, but not to me. From the back seat I heard, “Dear God, I promise to clean my room. And also, God, I am sorry for not respecting my parents.” 

*******


Things I've enjoyed that pertain to this topic:


For your listening pleasure: This American Life: Small Scale Sin


Read it:



Both hilarious and informative











I also recommend:




Specifically, the play titled "No Exit"