Suggested Reading

A couple years ago, my dad called to ask me if I had heard of a particular band called "Marmalade". I hadn't heard of them. As is typical with my father, who does not have a computer and thinks his new flip phone with a camera is "pretty high tech", he asked me to "look them up on the internet and order a CD", because he heard one person, on television, say they were the "most underrated band of all time". I get this call from him frequently. He always wants me to look up something on the internet. If he can't find something in "real life" it becomes my task to make it possible. Endless conversations regarding how to get pictures printed from various gadgets and social networking sites haunt me at night. Old people are so cute. I think I have mentioned before, that he used to say caller ID was "a fad" and therefore I was the only person in the entire world without this most important of contraptions throughout the final years of my high school career.

With a little searching, I found this obscure band and procured a CD for my father. While I can't bust his balls for not having an iPod, as I just obtained one myself a few months ago, I have to laugh when I remember that he didn't want me to download it to my iTunes. He wanted the actual CD and all the stuff that came with it. I remember the days when I couldn't imagine not having the little booklet inside the jewel case. It makes me sad to know that I no longer need it. I can just look everything up on the internet.

Since putting it on iTunes was out of the question, he proceeded to bring it over to my house once a week so we could listen to it. I, myself, didn't see what all the fuss was about. It wasn't awful, I even liked a few of the songs, but it was by no means something I would consider "underrated". In fact, whoever brainwashed my father into thinking this band was underrated was certainly overrating the band. In my honest opinion, I don't feel that I would have missed out on anything (except quality time with my dad, of course) in my life if I had continued on never knowing who "Marmalade" was.

I began to wonder why he was so insistent that he find this band. Sure, everybody has different tastes, but I couldn't help but wonder if, in this instance, the power of suggestion had been weaving its tricky little magic.

You can't blame him, though. The power of suggestion is everywhere. How many times has your scalp started itching after hearing someone simply say "lice"? You're fighting the urge to scratch right now, aren't you? I have been convinced at least seven times just this year that I have cancer or some other potentially fatal malady after googling "sharp pain in head". I begin to feel nauseous when someone mentions having a stomach ailment. 

A few weeks ago, I was having sushi with a friend. As I expertly wielded my chopsticks to pick up a piece of a spicy salmon roll, I dipped it in soy sauce and shoveled it into my mouth; all the while wondering; "Do I really like this, or do I like it because somebody told me it was good?" I then decided I didn't care, because whether or not I was really tasting something delicious or I merely thought I was tasting something delicious didn't matter. It didn't make it any less delicious. I remain skeptical, though. I'm always skeptical when I like something that doesn't have cheese on it.

By the way, I recently heard of this book that you absolutely MUST buy. It's written by a small town girl and it's fun for all ages. Tell your friends! You can get it HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sound Construction

One day, quite awhile ago, I said to myself "What is wrong with me?" Of course at the time I was in a delicate mental state as I had just been stood up. I'm no stranger to rejection. Then again, who is? I don't know anybody who has gotten anywhere in life by having doors opened for them everywhere they go. Sometimes we have to open them on our own, and sometimes they get slammed in our face. Over the years, I've gotten used to the feeling, and I can honestly say I have developed a better attitude about it lately. I know that I'm being done a favor by the universe. I'll never have to make a difficult decision in regards to that person. The Band-Aid has been ripped off so-to-speak. That person has said, quite loudly in their silence, "You're not even worth an explanation."

They're wrong though, I am worth an explanation; at the very least. Wash hands. Move on to the next thing. Still sometimes, when caught off guard, as irrational a notion as it may seem; I can't help but wonder, "What is wrong with me?"

As miserable as obvious rejection makes me feel, I can recognize it when it's happening. Sometimes, I feel it before it even occurs. Occasionally, when I'm feeling ballsy (and maybe after a few drinks), I'll send out a text to test the waters. I know though, deep down; it's all for naught.

I'm not going to sit here and tell you I don't mope around feeling sorry for myself at times. I'm a 32 year old single woman. I've never been married. I haven't had a boyfriend since high school, and I can't say I've ever truly been in love. 90% of the times I tell a person I'm happy being single I'm telling the truth...okay maybe more like 75% of the time. After all, It's natural to want someone. Our bodies, and brains...and hearts, are designed for it.

Needless to say, I keep my barriers up. They're not coming down. I've basically adopted the mentality that anyone willing to break them down will be worth serious consideration. I've seen friends in relationships wherein they feel obligated to suppress their true selves. They did this because their significant other was unwilling to believe in them, or too selfish and insecure to let them live their own fulfilling lives. I don't want to be stuck. I don't want to feel the way I have allowed others to make me feel in the past. I have learned from their misfortune, though I would have rather experienced it myself if it meant taking their pain away.

I have a tendency to latch onto the slightest inclination of interest. Not surprising, since I'm a passionate person, as most writers are. I don't wish to kill that hopefulness, but it has become quite a task to suppress the wound left by the ultimate realization of hopelessness.

So, in answer to my question: Nothing. I have nothing wrong with me. I merely have yet to find what is right...and at the moment, I'm not much interested in looking.

I'm Baaaaaack!!!!

I'm going to admit, since I finished writing "Wiener Brain" (available now on Amazon!), I have had the hardest time writing anything else. What was my problem? Writing is my passion. My one true love. Why couldn't I write? Why didn't I want to write?

I don't know.

However, I woke up this morning out of my funk. I felt the creativity coursing through my veins once again. I felt the desire and the want.

I have missed it.

I was depressed. I felt like a one-trick pony. Other times I felt like a hack, a fluke. I wondered, "Is this all I have to offer?"

Turns out it's not.

I have more to say and a lot to get off my chest. I've been doing the "bottling up my feelings" thing lately. It makes me feel wretched. I'm done with it. Moreover, I have missed "Stuff", and I have missed her readers. I can only hope her readers have missed her as well.

Fall is coming, and I can only hope it gets here faster than the winter is coming on Game of Thrones (*Nerd Joke!).

Now, I'm off to finish this short story that has been giving me fits for three weeks. Wish me luck! I'm taking a vacation from my social life until I'm finished with it.