Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Thursday, April 15, 2010
"Here It Goes Again" by OK Go
I still love this video.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
So after I watched Brooke Shields' episode last night, I got on ancestry.com (they have a free trial for two weeks which I signed up for and then cancelled my membership after I found out what I wanted to - I can't afford to pay $200 so I can get the death certificate of my great-great-great-great second cousin). I was just curious as to where some of my family members actually came from.
The trail on my dad's side stopped dead with his parents for some reason - they couldn't find anything on my grandmother or my grandfather (without some extra cash). All I know from Dad is that his mom's family was from France and that his dad's was from Scotland and Ireland. My dad's middle name is "Kirkpatrick," which was also my grandfather's middle name, and his dad's, etc.
On my mom's side, though, I struck gold.
Here are the interesting things I found out:
1. There are at least two Amandas in the family - my great-grandmother, Amanda Vandora (I know! Vandora! How awesome is that?!) and a great, great, great, great, great something or other aunt from like the early 1800's. Her name was Amanda, but she went by Mandy. So that's kind of cool to find out that I actually have a family name that goes back a ways.
2. Almost all of my Mom's ancestors had like 12 kids. No lie. And they're all weird names, like Amasa, Maltie, Vandora, Arleva, Joachim, Jedediah (that's a woman - one of my great, great grandmas), Obsolom...
3. One grandfather fought in the Revolutionary War and he lived in Virginia. So he was around during the Declaration of Independence, and might even have seen/known George Washington. Cool.
4. One grandfather fought in the Civil War (since he lived in Alabama, he was of course Confederate).
5. Most of the family stayed around the South, but one started out (Obsolom) in England, and another (Joseph something) in Ireland. They both moved here and married women from South Carolina.
I've never been an ancestry buff, but it makes you think. The people that literally created your family actually lived. They had completely different beginnings and experiences from mine. And they're part of me.
I won't be naming my kids Obsolom or Jedediah, however. I promise.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
Today I made the mistake of asking a class of three-year-olds which songs they'd like to sing. Everything was going fine, until I got to a normally angelic child, C. Here's a play-by-play of a huge downward spiral:
Me: C., what song do YOU want to sing?
C.: The Shoush song.
Me: The Shoush song? Um...
C.: The Shoush song. The Shoush song.
Me, confused: The church song?
C., voice rising a little higher: NO! The Shoush song!
J., another little girl in class: Miss Amanda - I have no idea what he's saying.
C., getting teary-eyed: YOU KNOW! The Shoush song! The Shoush song! The Shoush song!
Me: Ok, C., calm down a little bit, ok? Let's sing another song, how about that? How about "In a Cabin"?
C., now out-and-out crying: NO! NO! NO! The Shoush sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong (this last said in a high-pitched whine)!
Me, getting a little stern: I'm sorry, C., but I don't know that song. Let's sing another song. It's really nothing to cry about.
At this point, C. begins to literally scream and climbs out of his chair and begins to kick his legs and wave his arms, all the while wailing "THE SHOUSH SONG! THE SHOUSH SONG! NO OTHER SONGS! JUST THE SHOUSH SONG!"
No matter what I attempted to sing with the kids, C. was determined to out-scream my singing.
I finally had to go get his teacher, who had to pick his deadweight screaming body off the floor and lug him to his classroom.
Afterwards, a lady said to me "Aren't those kids adorable?"
I smiled and said "Oh, yes," but what I was REALLY thinking was "Sure, they're adorable - if you think Satan is adorable."
This is how I know I'm not ready for kids of my own.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Sometimes I dream about my person. Usually he's just in the background - sometimes I don't even speak to him in the dream. I'm just aware of his presence. He rarely has a starring role.
But I had one of those dreams last night -you know, the kind where you wake up exhausted and thinking "Whoa."
I dreamed that, for some unexplained reason, I called him. He answered the phone and we didn't speak. For minutes. I just held the phone to my ear and I could hear him breathing, and he could hear me. Then I started crying and suddenly I was walking. Seconds later I was at his house (in reality, he lives out of state and is married to a lovely girl, but in dream-land, I guess anything's possible). He met me at the door and didn't say a word. He just hugged me - hard - and said "It happened. I cared. You mattered." We hugged for a little while longer and I left.
Then I woke up.
And all day I've been feeling gloomy. Moribund (thank you, Hugh Grant). I've listened to depressing music and maybe even cried a little bit. All thanks to that stupid dream.
But I know what it meant - we all just want to know that we have meant something to someone - that our interaction with them didn't leave them completely unaffected. Our existence was remembered.
All week I've been feeling sort of forgotten, for want of a better word. I know my family loves me. My friends love me. But I'm lonely. As much as I love my apartment and my cat and my freedom...I miss having someone's hand to hold. I'm able to fight it off at work, but when I get home and it's dark and I'm alone except for the sound of the tv or iPod, it gets to me. I don't want it to always be this way.
I want to believe that things will change, that tomorrow I'll either meet someone who changes the equation or that I'll snap out of this funk and be ok. But today...it's tough.
Ugh. Moribund. Yep. Mor-i-bund.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
"Glasgow Love Theme" by Craig Armstrong (from Love Actually)
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Then you arrive at work, and the first thing that's said to you is "You look tired."
"You look tired" is just another way of saying "Whoa...not looking your best, kiddo."
Yeah. It's one of those days.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
"I'm still growing, and learning, and trying, and succeeding, and failing, and playing, and searching, and wondering, and laughing, and smiling, and finding, and creating, and defining."
- from Little Garden, my new favorite blog discovery