Yeah, ok, so I didn't quite manage to write this post for Sunday or Monday as promised, but such is my flakyness. Regardless, it's here now, with your requests as well as my own favourites.
May @Problem Uterus suggested Bruce Springsteen's "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" and Barenaked Ladies' "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen":
I don't care what anyone says, Christmas isn't Christmas without a little Bing.
Little Drummer Boy (with David Bowie)
White Christmas
My new sister in Mid-Atlantic statedom, Cali, wanted Happy Christmas (War Is Over) by John Lennon (I'm assuming, rather than the Celine version) and "Christmas Time is Here" from A Charlie Brown Christmas:
Since we don't get that 1964 jem "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" in the UK, I must rely on YouTube for my annual fix. Hurray for "Holly Jolly Christmas" and "Silver and Gold":
Eliza's Mom, always the musical brainiac has suggested The Killers' "Don't Shoot Me Santa", and yes, EM, they are wearing some pretty vile/fabulous Christmas sweaters! Her other recommendation, because she pretty much rocks, is Porn Orchard's "Christmas Sucks":
12/24/2009
12/14/2009
Not so musical Monday
At 10pm I sat down for the first time since I got home at 5.30pm. I did manage to eat dinner in that time, a rather delicious Katsu curry I started making as soon as I got in. Regretfully, my dinner consumption usually takes about 40 minutes and involves minimal sitting. Instead it's grabbing a bite here and there when not being moaned at by the Tiny Dictator that her belly is rumbling, but somehow it knows it's not hungry for dinner but sweets. Arguments ensue, I'm told that I'm not very nice and have thus lost the friendship of my only daughter for being so bold as to ask her to eat her dinner.
After preparation of two lunches (tuna sandwich for me, homemade cheesy pasta with tuna for her), two lots of dish washing later with a quick tidy of the kitchen, and it's 10pm. The Dude was insistent that I should go to bed and watch an episode of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" with him, but who wants to go from work - kitchen - bed - work with no proper relaxing in between? Now he is relegated to the bedroom and I get to cosy up with the laptop and a new (to us poor UK residents anyway) episode of SVU. I'll go to bed at 11pm anyway, but somehow that extra hour of alone time will hopefully be enough so I don't wake up tomorrow with a major case of the post-Mondays.
This is such a stupid Mommy blogger thing to say, but fuck it - what do you do to not feel as if your life is just one endless cycle of things that wear you out? I just cannot physically find the time to do things I need to do - Christmas cards for example. When? I suppose I could take a few hours one night and work on them, but at the risk that everything else would fall behind. I bring work home with me most nights, but I rarely get a chance to sit down and do it. Dinners and lunches need made, kitchens need to be cleaned, dishes need done, toys need to be picked up.
Somehow I don't feel stressed out with the hectic nature of the moment, I'm just tired. I can't believe I used to have time to sit down and write here two or three times a week, let alone reading what other people are writing. I can't work out what was different then, as I have the same job, same kid, same husband doing the same job. When are things not like this anymore? Retirement? Jesus...
Jumping subjects entirely, I'll be doing a Music Monday next week (21st) featuring holiday music. I have some ideas of my own, but want some other recommendations. What songs put you in the holiday mood? Email me before next Sunday, barrenalbion at gmail dot com, or leave a comment here.
I'm going to go put my favourite Christmas sweater on and brainstorm.
After preparation of two lunches (tuna sandwich for me, homemade cheesy pasta with tuna for her), two lots of dish washing later with a quick tidy of the kitchen, and it's 10pm. The Dude was insistent that I should go to bed and watch an episode of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" with him, but who wants to go from work - kitchen - bed - work with no proper relaxing in between? Now he is relegated to the bedroom and I get to cosy up with the laptop and a new (to us poor UK residents anyway) episode of SVU. I'll go to bed at 11pm anyway, but somehow that extra hour of alone time will hopefully be enough so I don't wake up tomorrow with a major case of the post-Mondays.
This is such a stupid Mommy blogger thing to say, but fuck it - what do you do to not feel as if your life is just one endless cycle of things that wear you out? I just cannot physically find the time to do things I need to do - Christmas cards for example. When? I suppose I could take a few hours one night and work on them, but at the risk that everything else would fall behind. I bring work home with me most nights, but I rarely get a chance to sit down and do it. Dinners and lunches need made, kitchens need to be cleaned, dishes need done, toys need to be picked up.
Somehow I don't feel stressed out with the hectic nature of the moment, I'm just tired. I can't believe I used to have time to sit down and write here two or three times a week, let alone reading what other people are writing. I can't work out what was different then, as I have the same job, same kid, same husband doing the same job. When are things not like this anymore? Retirement? Jesus...
Jumping subjects entirely, I'll be doing a Music Monday next week (21st) featuring holiday music. I have some ideas of my own, but want some other recommendations. What songs put you in the holiday mood? Email me before next Sunday, barrenalbion at gmail dot com, or leave a comment here.
I'm going to go put my favourite Christmas sweater on and brainstorm.
12/02/2009
Vignettes of a trip abroad
The jig is up. I haven't blogged in fifty years, so if you are unfortunate enough to remember who I am, you probably don't even remember my allusions to a secret. The secret is, I flew to the US a couple of weeks ago for a real, live job interview. I *still* haven't heard whether I got the damn thing or not, though I suspect much like the magic period that turns up right when I waste urine and a tenner on a pregnancy test, I'll get an email right after I hit publish. Before you ask - I have no idea how I did. I am confident in how I presented myself in the four hours of various kinds of interviews I've had with my hopeful employers-to-be at anonymous university outside Philly, but you can never predict such outcomes, can you?
I was only in the States for a few days, but sans The Baggage, I managed to squeeze more into that period than I usually do in a month-long trip. I have a cluster of trip tidbits that I wanted to mention, so I'll just dispense of proper grammar and paragraph structure and just list things numerically. I may have disappeared from blogging for a bit, but worry not, my laziness remains intact.
1) On the flight to the States, I watched three films - The Time Traveller's Wife, The Ugly Truth, and a third which I have just now forgotten. Regardless, I have a lesson for you. If you have just left your family for the first time ever having only been away from your child for a maximum of 9 hours, DO NOT watch The Time Traveller's Wife. If you do, you will sit snivelling like an idiot, wiping your nose on the airline-provided blanket, ignoring the sidewards glances of the guy seated on the other side of the aisle, with your finger hovering over the "stop" button in case it all gets to be too much. I read the book and know it's a bit draining, so how I managed to not transfer this knowledge to my film decision making, I don't know.
2) The night I arrived I met the wonderful, glorious, hospitable, gorgeous Tash. I've neglected to meet up with her on past trips, and though we did not get to an XPN event, I greatly enjoyed the limited time I spent with her. I'm still paranoid that she probably felt I was way too comfortable, as I pretty much helped myself to her computer, drank her tea, and got all cosy in her kitchen. The lovely woman pretended I wasn't the rudest person in the world, and in my defense jet lag messes with my head a bit. My sense of tact which is always present starts to dissipate in fairly large increments once I've been awake for more than 18 hours. Tash's house is quite possibly, nay, IS, the most beautiful residence I have ever set foot in. I offered to move in straight away, and Tash gracefully deflected the offer and moved on to another matter quite quickly. We even hugged before I left, and let me tell you, I'm not much of a hugger so that Tash is one lucky broad.
3) My Kindle, which does not have 3G access when in the UK, enabled me to sit at lunch the next day and download books. It will take me years to get over the marvel of being able to sit on your toilet (if you so desire), order a book, and start reading it 30 seconds later. Unfortunately for constructiveness and my marriage, I downloaded Dragonfly in Amber. I've gushed about this series (Outlander) before, and just like the first book, I cannot.get.enough. I don't know what it is, because some of it is hokey as hell and the sex scenes just make me laugh, but they are so addictive. That, and I desperately want to have lots of The Sex with Jamie. It's weird to lust after a fictional literary character. I spend way too much time brainstorming about who would best suit Jamie in a film version, then pleading desperately with fate to actually make a film version. I don't think I'd be able to watch it, lest I suffer from some sort of death by rapid orgasm and expire in a public movie theater.
4) American rest stops. I love them. I don't know what it is, and maybe I've been away too long so as to find such ordinariness compelling, but I could sit in one for hours. I stopped in a wee one on the PA Turnpike to get a coffee, and my eyes couldn't dart around quick enough to take all the American goodness in. I think it's just such a symbol of Americana, with so many different types of people moving in and out with such rapidity. There's something so old school and mid-20th century about it.
5) I met someone else on my trip - see, I told you I was industrious! Guess who? She lives out Philly way, sassy as hell, and has been a blogging friend of mine since her first infertility blog when she called herself "Holly". It's STATIA! Let me just say, I'm the first one to admit that my real self is not nearly as outgoing and bold as my blog self, but Statia is the real deal. Blog Statia is real Statia. Bitch. We met for coffee in a great little coffeeshop round her way, and she even paid for my drink. She's a classy broad, that one. The best part is, even though I was dressed like a common post-interview streetwalker, she didn't even ask to cop a feel before she bought my drink. So well-mannered. Much like my time with Tash, my visit with Statia was hours upon hours too short, but we crammed in a lot of talking into not much time. I'm endlessly pleased that I bothered to fit her in this time, even if it was mainly to shut her up about my apparent constant dissing of her when Stateside. I loved that we were able to keep the antagonistic banter up in real life, as if we'd known each other for years. Oh wait. We have.
I'm sure there is more to my trip that would involve tales of my Mom's alleged ghost, by which I mean one which haunts my Mom's house, not the ghost of my still-alive Mom (who is here in the UK as we speak), Aunt Florence's recent begging episode, my mental insistence that if I get this job I should reward myself with a slew of art, and my annoyance with my home city that it is now cool - despite not being remotely so when I actually lived there.
My goal in life now is not to get this job, but rather to read some goddamned blogs. I miss blog-reading, but my life in the past six months has been entirely composed of visa paperwork, job searching, job applications, resume and cover letter modification, email correspondence with job folk, child rearing, home maintenance, work stuff, and a touch of animal husbandry. I can't wait until I have a series of evenings in which I can sit on my ass and read blogs. It would be like a dream come true.
I was only in the States for a few days, but sans The Baggage, I managed to squeeze more into that period than I usually do in a month-long trip. I have a cluster of trip tidbits that I wanted to mention, so I'll just dispense of proper grammar and paragraph structure and just list things numerically. I may have disappeared from blogging for a bit, but worry not, my laziness remains intact.
1) On the flight to the States, I watched three films - The Time Traveller's Wife, The Ugly Truth, and a third which I have just now forgotten. Regardless, I have a lesson for you. If you have just left your family for the first time ever having only been away from your child for a maximum of 9 hours, DO NOT watch The Time Traveller's Wife. If you do, you will sit snivelling like an idiot, wiping your nose on the airline-provided blanket, ignoring the sidewards glances of the guy seated on the other side of the aisle, with your finger hovering over the "stop" button in case it all gets to be too much. I read the book and know it's a bit draining, so how I managed to not transfer this knowledge to my film decision making, I don't know.
2) The night I arrived I met the wonderful, glorious, hospitable, gorgeous Tash. I've neglected to meet up with her on past trips, and though we did not get to an XPN event, I greatly enjoyed the limited time I spent with her. I'm still paranoid that she probably felt I was way too comfortable, as I pretty much helped myself to her computer, drank her tea, and got all cosy in her kitchen. The lovely woman pretended I wasn't the rudest person in the world, and in my defense jet lag messes with my head a bit. My sense of tact which is always present starts to dissipate in fairly large increments once I've been awake for more than 18 hours. Tash's house is quite possibly, nay, IS, the most beautiful residence I have ever set foot in. I offered to move in straight away, and Tash gracefully deflected the offer and moved on to another matter quite quickly. We even hugged before I left, and let me tell you, I'm not much of a hugger so that Tash is one lucky broad.
3) My Kindle, which does not have 3G access when in the UK, enabled me to sit at lunch the next day and download books. It will take me years to get over the marvel of being able to sit on your toilet (if you so desire), order a book, and start reading it 30 seconds later. Unfortunately for constructiveness and my marriage, I downloaded Dragonfly in Amber. I've gushed about this series (Outlander) before, and just like the first book, I cannot.get.enough. I don't know what it is, because some of it is hokey as hell and the sex scenes just make me laugh, but they are so addictive. That, and I desperately want to have lots of The Sex with Jamie. It's weird to lust after a fictional literary character. I spend way too much time brainstorming about who would best suit Jamie in a film version, then pleading desperately with fate to actually make a film version. I don't think I'd be able to watch it, lest I suffer from some sort of death by rapid orgasm and expire in a public movie theater.
4) American rest stops. I love them. I don't know what it is, and maybe I've been away too long so as to find such ordinariness compelling, but I could sit in one for hours. I stopped in a wee one on the PA Turnpike to get a coffee, and my eyes couldn't dart around quick enough to take all the American goodness in. I think it's just such a symbol of Americana, with so many different types of people moving in and out with such rapidity. There's something so old school and mid-20th century about it.
5) I met someone else on my trip - see, I told you I was industrious! Guess who? She lives out Philly way, sassy as hell, and has been a blogging friend of mine since her first infertility blog when she called herself "Holly". It's STATIA! Let me just say, I'm the first one to admit that my real self is not nearly as outgoing and bold as my blog self, but Statia is the real deal. Blog Statia is real Statia. Bitch. We met for coffee in a great little coffeeshop round her way, and she even paid for my drink. She's a classy broad, that one. The best part is, even though I was dressed like a common post-interview streetwalker, she didn't even ask to cop a feel before she bought my drink. So well-mannered. Much like my time with Tash, my visit with Statia was hours upon hours too short, but we crammed in a lot of talking into not much time. I'm endlessly pleased that I bothered to fit her in this time, even if it was mainly to shut her up about my apparent constant dissing of her when Stateside. I loved that we were able to keep the antagonistic banter up in real life, as if we'd known each other for years. Oh wait. We have.
I'm sure there is more to my trip that would involve tales of my Mom's alleged ghost, by which I mean one which haunts my Mom's house, not the ghost of my still-alive Mom (who is here in the UK as we speak), Aunt Florence's recent begging episode, my mental insistence that if I get this job I should reward myself with a slew of art, and my annoyance with my home city that it is now cool - despite not being remotely so when I actually lived there.
My goal in life now is not to get this job, but rather to read some goddamned blogs. I miss blog-reading, but my life in the past six months has been entirely composed of visa paperwork, job searching, job applications, resume and cover letter modification, email correspondence with job folk, child rearing, home maintenance, work stuff, and a touch of animal husbandry. I can't wait until I have a series of evenings in which I can sit on my ass and read blogs. It would be like a dream come true.
11/16/2009
Music Monday: In with the new
It's been awhile since I've gotten my shit together enough to do this. I regularly send myself emails with band names and song titles in the hopes that one day I'll put it all together for an MM post. Hey - what do you know...today is that day!
Choir of Young Believers: Next Summer
Raul Malo: Every Little Thing About You
Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros: Home
Fanfarlo: The Walls are Coming Down
Imogen Heap: First Train Home
Editors: No Sound But the Wind (this one is for you Rachel!)
-Also, has anyone seen how friggin' good the New Moon OST is? Damn.
Florence & the Machine: Raise it Up
Ellie Goulding: Under the Sheets
I hope that keeps you busy for awhile. Check some of these out, even if you usually skim by my MM posts. There's some good stuff in there!
Next post - the news? Who knows? Not I...
Choir of Young Believers: Next Summer
Raul Malo: Every Little Thing About You
Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros: Home
Fanfarlo: The Walls are Coming Down
Imogen Heap: First Train Home
Editors: No Sound But the Wind (this one is for you Rachel!)
-Also, has anyone seen how friggin' good the New Moon OST is? Damn.
Florence & the Machine: Raise it Up
Ellie Goulding: Under the Sheets
I hope that keeps you busy for awhile. Check some of these out, even if you usually skim by my MM posts. There's some good stuff in there!
Next post - the news? Who knows? Not I...
11/08/2009
You've got a ... friend?
Here it is - I'm a shit friend. I'm a shit friend in real life, and I'm shit in the virtual one. In my head I try, but when it comes right down to it, I'm lazy and far too scatterbrained to maintain the sense of dedication and loyalty that is required in friendship.
I'm sure one or two of you will emerge from the shadows to refute this to spare my feelings, but don't bother. We both know that you've sent me lengthy and important emails that I've either taken a year to respond to, or never bothered to at all. In some cases, you've been worried about me and enquired to others as to my whereabouts, concerned that one of my morose posts has lead to my self-imposed exile from society. The kicker is - I know about this worry and STILL don't take two minutes to let you know that I have not done a swan dive out my third story window. I am that filled with disregard it seems.
Don't worry, it's not the sheltered, hidden nature of the internet that encourages me. I've always been like this. When I was 19 and was going to college in my hometown, one of my best friends who moved away to a college a few states away came back to visit and never called me. I was offended, until she pointed out that I never really responded to her repeated emails, so she didn't bother contacting me. Fair enough. Eventually I made it up to her by emailing regularly, if only for a little while. Ironically, we find ourselves in this same awkward position these days - we're Facebook friends due to our 20 year history, but she ignores every attempt I make at contact. I get it, I've been fired. I've sacked others before, now it's my turn to be on the other side.
My family always trades tales of my complete inability to maintain any type of correspondence relationship. As you may imagine, moving 4000 miles away has not helped matters. I read the emails they send, then when I fail to respond, tell them months later that life was just so hectic, blah blah blah. Yes, my life is a touch busy, but no more so than anyone else's. I work full-time and have a kid. So do millions of other people. Not only do those people manage to do degrees, take tae kwon do, and cook delicious dinners, but they also email their friends every once in awhile in order to maintain long-standing relationships.
I do feel terrible about it all, though apparently not bad enough to modify my behaviour. I go through bouts of talking a big game, pretending that I'm on top of life enough to make more of an effort, but progress is fleeting. It's upsetting enough doing this via emails and phone calls, but I'm also dreadful at sending post as well. Birthday cards? Maybe, and most likely to be a month or so after your actual birthday. Present for the new baby? Ok. It will be for your toddler and not so much a newborn, but I'll get around to it. Eventually.
I do wonder what all of this says about me. In my head, I'm a good person. The Dude is forever telling me that I shouldn't think of other people so much, or be so generous. How these traits co-exist with my complete inability to not be an inconsiderate shithead, I have no idea. I think perhaps it's because it's all theoretical with me. I do feel horribly/fantastically about your difficult/joyous time. It will probably depress/elate me by association, and I'll tell The Dude how very sad/happy I am for you. The glitch, the immense stumbling block of insurmountable adversity, seems to be my ability to tell you that I feel that way. Even if I manage to get that out of me, there will be no ongoing dialogue, because I'll just leave it at that. The intent to do otherwise will be there, but....
I could go on and on with a lengthy list of those I've wronged in this way. I see your names every single time I look at my mounting unread feeds, and I'm sorry. I do wonder what I do to deserve such loyalty, as my inability to comment on your blogs and reply to your emails is not commensurate to your dedication to me. I apologise the use of "dedication", but other than the even scarier cult-like word of "devotion", I can't think of an appropriate, much more mild word.
So, to all of you, mea culpa. I'm not going to pretend things are going to change, because they won't. Well, when I put it like that I sound like a prize asshole, which is perhaps the whole point. Anyway, I am sorry. I would love to be an attentive, ever-thoughtful friend, but I don't think that is how I'll ever be, regardless of how much I want it.
Lest anyone think this reads like a suicide note, particularly bearing in mind my recent hysterical posts, don't worry. This is something that is always on the tip of my fingers waiting to be unleashed. In actuality, some good news has shined on these shores. Possibly. A bit early to say, but all will be evident in the next couple of weeks either way. Regardless of the outcome, you can then send me your usual fabulously supportive messages, and I will then not respond. That's just my way.
I'm sure one or two of you will emerge from the shadows to refute this to spare my feelings, but don't bother. We both know that you've sent me lengthy and important emails that I've either taken a year to respond to, or never bothered to at all. In some cases, you've been worried about me and enquired to others as to my whereabouts, concerned that one of my morose posts has lead to my self-imposed exile from society. The kicker is - I know about this worry and STILL don't take two minutes to let you know that I have not done a swan dive out my third story window. I am that filled with disregard it seems.
Don't worry, it's not the sheltered, hidden nature of the internet that encourages me. I've always been like this. When I was 19 and was going to college in my hometown, one of my best friends who moved away to a college a few states away came back to visit and never called me. I was offended, until she pointed out that I never really responded to her repeated emails, so she didn't bother contacting me. Fair enough. Eventually I made it up to her by emailing regularly, if only for a little while. Ironically, we find ourselves in this same awkward position these days - we're Facebook friends due to our 20 year history, but she ignores every attempt I make at contact. I get it, I've been fired. I've sacked others before, now it's my turn to be on the other side.
My family always trades tales of my complete inability to maintain any type of correspondence relationship. As you may imagine, moving 4000 miles away has not helped matters. I read the emails they send, then when I fail to respond, tell them months later that life was just so hectic, blah blah blah. Yes, my life is a touch busy, but no more so than anyone else's. I work full-time and have a kid. So do millions of other people. Not only do those people manage to do degrees, take tae kwon do, and cook delicious dinners, but they also email their friends every once in awhile in order to maintain long-standing relationships.
I do feel terrible about it all, though apparently not bad enough to modify my behaviour. I go through bouts of talking a big game, pretending that I'm on top of life enough to make more of an effort, but progress is fleeting. It's upsetting enough doing this via emails and phone calls, but I'm also dreadful at sending post as well. Birthday cards? Maybe, and most likely to be a month or so after your actual birthday. Present for the new baby? Ok. It will be for your toddler and not so much a newborn, but I'll get around to it. Eventually.
I do wonder what all of this says about me. In my head, I'm a good person. The Dude is forever telling me that I shouldn't think of other people so much, or be so generous. How these traits co-exist with my complete inability to not be an inconsiderate shithead, I have no idea. I think perhaps it's because it's all theoretical with me. I do feel horribly/fantastically about your difficult/joyous time. It will probably depress/elate me by association, and I'll tell The Dude how very sad/happy I am for you. The glitch, the immense stumbling block of insurmountable adversity, seems to be my ability to tell you that I feel that way. Even if I manage to get that out of me, there will be no ongoing dialogue, because I'll just leave it at that. The intent to do otherwise will be there, but....
I could go on and on with a lengthy list of those I've wronged in this way. I see your names every single time I look at my mounting unread feeds, and I'm sorry. I do wonder what I do to deserve such loyalty, as my inability to comment on your blogs and reply to your emails is not commensurate to your dedication to me. I apologise the use of "dedication", but other than the even scarier cult-like word of "devotion", I can't think of an appropriate, much more mild word.
So, to all of you, mea culpa. I'm not going to pretend things are going to change, because they won't. Well, when I put it like that I sound like a prize asshole, which is perhaps the whole point. Anyway, I am sorry. I would love to be an attentive, ever-thoughtful friend, but I don't think that is how I'll ever be, regardless of how much I want it.
Lest anyone think this reads like a suicide note, particularly bearing in mind my recent hysterical posts, don't worry. This is something that is always on the tip of my fingers waiting to be unleashed. In actuality, some good news has shined on these shores. Possibly. A bit early to say, but all will be evident in the next couple of weeks either way. Regardless of the outcome, you can then send me your usual fabulously supportive messages, and I will then not respond. That's just my way.
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