well it’s thursday, and there’s a football game tonight. so what will happen? will referees be attacked by angry men in sweatshirts? will indecision and lack of communication decide another win for a team that maybe didn’t really do what they got credit for? (sorry Seattle, you know i love you). or will fans start to boycott this mess and leave the multi-million dollar stands completely empty, like an old Roman arena that once was great and full of competition, but then someone decided, “hmmmm…feeding random people to lions is just really droll. let’s have them fight to the death instead!”
it’s not like i’m going to say anything that hasn’t already been said continually for the last 72 hours straight. but i’m going to say it anyway, because this is my blog and i can do that.
GET THIS SHIT FIGURED OUT, NFL.
this is ridiculous. maybe the NFL proper is all about money, and making more of it, and profits, and money and cash. but WHERE do they think all that money comes from? SURPRISE, IDIOTS! THE FANS! if the fans, and the commentators, and the experts, analysts, reporters, players, coaches, and medics are all angry and upset about a situation, i’m thinking you need to address that situation.
am i crazy here? (don’t answer that, we already know that answer) yes you may have the almighty dollar as your bottom line, but you won’t be getting those magical monies if you piss off everyone that has said dollars in their pockets.
GET YOUR HEADS OUT OF YOUR ASSES AND BRING BACK THE REGULAR OFFICIALS. how many people have to say it to make it enter your fat skulls?
so today has been a fabulous kick off to 2012.
first we started off with a movie at midnight. and margaritas.
then we watched football all day today, along with some Twilight Zone marathon
We also had fun with my friend’s new Facebook page.
this was fun to ponder all day. along with enjoying more margaritas and some pizza. today’s question was “Favorite All Time Classic TV Show”, which was easy for me, as i am obsessed with The Twilight Zone. but Mark (my friend) has listed all the questions that you should answer each day, so we sat and tried to figure out what our answers will be this month. very fun, very old school, very couch potato. and fun to read everyone else’s answers.
if you have a Facebook account, hop on the page, or go to his other old school TV discussion page,
i don’t drink it every day. i wonder why? it’s so delicious smelling, and warming, and makes me feel so much like a writer, and today was the most coffee-drinking day i could have, so here i am, cup in hand.
fall has always been my favorite season; i love the colors on the trees. colors i don’t always know the names for. colors that capture my attention and whisk me away into a surrealistic painting trapped somewhere in my imagination. i love the smell of fire places and burning leaves, the smell of snuggling. i’ve always loved the coolness of the weather, and the advent of sweater wearing – though sweaters decidedly lose their novelty after several months of harsh winter. still, with football and crunchy leaves, Halloween and cider, fall brings a bucket of joy with it.
today’s walk through the park led me to a new tree-friend. a twinkling yellow tree, whose leaves were so happy and energetic, i had to go say hi. millions (or lots) of little yellow leaves waved at me as i came closer, and i saw that there was a sign under the tree, declaring it to be a Gingko Biloba tree. i had no idea my local park had a Gingko Biloba! i gathered up a pocket full of the little flyers from the ground and thought my day to be quite magical thus far.
pockets full of treasure i journeyed on, past my little Poncho tree who is all decked out in yellow, past the squirrels digging out or putting in a stash of nuts, past the stone lions and their diligent perseverance, and past the ghost girl who sits in her attic room practicing the flute. my other park had a blanket of leaves waiting for me, and as it began to rain steadily, i visited the river to say good morning, and finally lay on my back under a tree. i know i’m crazy, so don’t bother reminding me. it’s not usually something that is far from my mind. i know that if anyone was actually out on a day like today (the weather channel calling for severe thunderstorms) they would have wondered what the *#&! was wrong with me. but i couldn’t resist. i was tempted to make a leaf angel, but the whole park was so gloriously decorated i couldn’t bare to disturb the scene. so buried under leaves was the park, i couldn’t tell where the grass met the path, and just plundered over everything until i collapsed at last, like i said, on my back.
and there i lay, looking up at the sky as the rain beat down on me and chinked off the trees, pavement and wrought iron fence. and the leaves came tumbling down around me. this fall, since the trees have been shedding, i’ve been telling myself that i have wonderful great fortune every time i see a leaf fall. sometimes my great fortune is so great, i can’t keep up, and just stand in a shower of wonder. so as i lay under a sky of wet kisses, i called off my wonderful fortune as the stars fell on me, and listened to the murder of crows gathering in a nearby tree. and the love of the universe just fell all around me, and the peace of life just embraced me in its arms. and i walked home finally, soaked to the skin, deliriously drenched, and supremely content. i peeled off my wet layers of clothes, slipped my turquoise satin robe over my bare skin and set about making my cup of coffee. for wondrous things happen when you combine coffee with a fall day…
Today is a downloading day for me. I have these moments, and sometimes days, pretty regularly. It’s not that I’m depressed, because I’m not really. How can I be depressed on a gorgeous day like today? The trees are phenomenally gorgeous, sprinkling my walk with more color than my eyes can consume. Green trees, yellow trees, trees that want to be orange, red, green, burgundy and ochre all at the same time. Some clumps are all bold and brilliant, and other patches of trees are soft, silvery, mauve. The brilliant blue sky sports whispy clouds that float through the air with no apparent agenda or time frame. It’s a gorgeous, warm, relaxed October day, and I am downloading. I often have direction, goals or intentions. I wake up thinking about a project I need to work on, a task I need to complete, chores I have been putting off or a hobby I want to get back to. I have to work out, I have to make a grocery list, I need to repair a broken earring or watch a movie rental before it’s due back. I might have social obligations or volunteer duties to attend to. And usually, my brain is full of ideas, thoughts, aspirations, longings, chatter, songs and intense curiosity about everything around me. On downloading days I have none of this. I’m neither tired nor energetic. I’m neither depressed nor excited. I have no specific desires or ambitions, and often find myself indecisive, not sure which direction to go. I call these downloading days because it’s like my brain has had enough frenetic activity lately and needs an hour (or twenty) to just buzz. The stuff in my brain is just rattling around and looking for somewhere to land. It’s like I’m downloading something on my computer, and I just have to wait. I can’t do anything else because whatever is downloading just isn’t done yet, so I sit and watch football, or go for a long walk, or talk emotionlessly to someone about nothing of interest. It’s just a day. A beautiful, gorgeous, perfect day; but a day I might enjoy better had my brain been fully engaged.
tonight i took a walk to my park; too late, for sure. probably not a good idea to do that all the time, but i really needed an extra fix. i’ve gotten addicted to my walks, and especially to the river. and tonight as i walked in the no-longer-hot air, i had much on my mind. i had a heavy heart, and a worried mind. i was longing for love, and worried about the path it was taking to arrive, at long last, in my life. but i am not in control of a good many things in life, and if i were there would be more sex, alcohol and football or futball involved.
my path through park number one was quiet, with fireflies lighting my way. they sparkled in the dusk like twinkle lights on a tree, and flashed their message to me: all is well; all is well. at park number two i was calmed even more. the water at the falls was full and frothy, like a good mug of hard cider in October. ducks were about, and calm and collected, discussing the day’s events, or possibly exchanging information about timeshares. i sat on the park bench and fell into a lull. overhead lights shone on the water, in silver, gold and purple. the shimmer of the lights reflected in the water looked like a firework display, with every ripple on the river giving off a spark of light. it was truly amazing, and a treasured moment.
i am not in charge of LOVE. i cannot guarantee its safe arrival to me. i have no promise of a tomorrow, with someone or without. i don’t know what the future holds. but i do know that i can love others. i can give love, whether or not it comes back to me. i can do my part, and give my love, and that much i CAN know. seeing the beauty of the water, and nature’s little buzzing flashlights reminded me: there is so much love out there in the world, even if it doesn’t come to me directly, i figure i can still catch a second hand buzz one way or another.
The World Cup started this week, which is always enjoyable. My sister (I’ll call her Bodie on here, one of my nicknames for her) and I always love to watch sports. We love to get involved in the game, and cheer our voices gone, and jump up and down if we get so excited, or curse like sailors when our people suck and mess up the whole thing. We aren’t terribly picky about what we watch, though we certainly have favorites.
Over the years we’ve watched more football than anything, my favorite sport and one of her favorites. But we enjoy watching all sorts of games: the XGames is a definite favorite, beach volleyball, soccer, tennis. I almost had a meltdown when I discovered rugby – my other favorite sport – because not only are the outfits adorable, the men are supersized, with big meaty thighs, burly physiques, and round juicy bottoms. These men are warriors out on the field, sporting bloody facial expressions within minutes of play. Rugby is a sport a horny girl can get into. But I also enjoy curling. And watching billiards. And water polo, the Olympics, motocross, and martial arts competitions.
I don’t know for sure what it is about sports that we both love so much. When we got Dish Network, the guy installing it told us we had too much testosterone. He was telling us about all the cool channels we would be getting, now that we had the Dish, and I said, “Yeah, but we get Football Network, right?” The channel was brand new at the time, and he didn’t seem to understand why we weren’t as excited about the Home Shopping Network.
I think my sister and I have always been this way. At eight or nine, I watched football at home by myself, or on Sundays with my uncle, who taught me the game. I knew early on to hate the Cowboys for the sheer principle of it (my uncle’s conviction, and we DID live in Los Angeles), to honor the Steelers and cheer the Rams, and on my own I selected the Chicago Bears and the Saints as early favorites, whom I am still loyal to today. Although I’ve also added the Seahawks, Ravens and several other teams to my roster of favorites. I also watched roller derby as a kid, and had a yellow legal pad full of the names of my team’s players, and their arch rivals. I sat in front of the television set every Saturday morning and berated the opposing team, calling them doodie pants and weenie heads.
And while I started off with a healthy interest in sports, my appreciation may have increased when I finally started dating some athletes. There is something about athletes….
I’ve dated artists and musicians, architects and money moguls, mechanics, fire fighters, gamblers and sommeliers. And I don’t think I’ve dated any professional athletes, at least they weren’t at the time I dated them, but I have gone out with basketball players, football players, tennis players, baseball players, swimmers, and I had a great chance to date a foreign exchange water polo player, from France, I think, and I completely blew that one. Oh well. That wouldn’t have lasted long anyway, because I was virginal at the time, or thought I was, so was maintaining a strict “No Go” philosophy on all things sex.
Still, with all my appreciation of the sport and the sporter, I’m always surprised that when I do find someone to date, I am often the one that is more interested in competition. Maybe I didn’t realize early enough that I was into athletes, and spent all that time dithering away on the architects and poets and dramatic thinky types. Maybe when I have dated athletically minded men, I haven’t been in a place where I’m paying much attention to anything, and didn’t notice them cheering on a good tennis match, or placing bets on a football game. (oh, wait a minute, that sounds familiar)
I do remember lots of nights spent with my fabulous sister, on the couch screaming, cheering, and getting drunk. I do remember fun nights out at the pub with my sis, wearing colored wigs, gaudy ‘mardi gras’ necklaces, face tattoos and getting drunk. Attending games with my sis, where we stand in the bleachers, asses in pain because those seats are so uncomfortable, cursing at the coach, or the team, or the lousy season ahead, and getting drunk.
So World Cup is another bonding time with my sis. One of these days I hope to find a man I can love for my very own, who also happens to like sports. I’m hoping he will go to some roller derby games with me, and stop at a park and watch random games of softball and soccer, even if we don’t know anyone on the teams. This is something I enjoyed doing when I lived on my own, and had nothing better to do on a random day. I’m hoping I’ll find a guy who will play volleyball with me, or maybe try to get me to take up golf, which I can’t really imagine liking, unless my job is just driving the cute cart and getting us more beers. And I will probably always be watching sports with my sis…but I’m also hoping I’ll find a guy that can finally see the light. A unique man that will finally appreciate all the things that I love, like pizza and beer and sex and sports. A man that won’t constantly nag me to clean the house or take out the cat litter. A man that can sit down and play video games with me once in a while, or sit on the porch and smoke my hookah with me. A man who will finally see the truth that no other man has ever grasped; I am the perfect woman.
Love may be my greatest downfall.
That is not to say that love will be the thing that brings me down; my Achilles’ Heel; the thorn in my side.
For Love – I believe – will redeem me. Finally. And thoroughly. I believe it is with Love, and through Love that I will achieve my greatest deeds. Write the best poetry, the most exciting novels. Discover the most hidden truths, sharing them with my loved ones, and perhaps the world, if it decides to be nice to me. Love will help me to realize myself, and my true potential. And Love will give me the missing pieces, to help me complete the tasks I have yet to accomplish; like turning cheap flatware into silver medallions, and finally mixing my never ending potion of eternal life.
Love is the downfall IN me. Wait. Love is…if there is something … well yeah ok, I guess Love is my Achilles’ Heel. Fine. I was trying to read my “book of the month” club book. And I don’t often do this…in fact, I can’t remember when I’ve ever done this, but I read a fair amount, so I imagine I must have done it before. I flipped ahead! I flipped through pages and pages of the story, looking to see if they got together or not! This was not as easy a task as it could have been; this isn’t a romance we’re reading. This is an ensemble piece, story upon story of lives intertwining and lacing together like an ice skater’s boot. And people come and go and change, and the story doesn’t stop, just waits in the wings for a while, until the other players get the hell of stage finally, so the lovers can get back to canoodling or looking longingly at each other for two minutes before the next tragedy whisks them off stage again. And really, there hasn’t been canoodling. Or much long looking.
And maybe that’s what has me riveted, and cheating the author by skipping the other lives that exist in this novel, just to get to the lovers. But that’s the thing…he’s done it so well. He’s created the angst of love, and the anticipation so accurately.
It’s not a romance like out of the Harelequin novels…there’s no talk of pulsing neck veins, or throbbing…headaches, or voluptuous damsels. There aren’t wise cracking heroes or muscular main men that save the day or slay the dragon. Yes, there is talk of castles. A few of the characters happen to be Irish, and there are two love stories unfolding here. But these stories are REAL sounding. Two people falling in love, who are nobodies, and trying to live their lives, and afraid of committing to this love, but afraid of not committing. A love that is so intense it is palpable, and vibrates in the room, making others uncomfortably aware that something in the world is frenzied, and heated, and stifling…is it the weather? Longing that is so frustrating it makes your chest squeeze as you read about it, and makes your brow furrow as you nervously bite your nails, wondering if he will finally screw up his courage and stay with her in her life.
The whole book isn’t about this love, it maybe isn’t about love at all. Love is maybe just part of what happens, PART of life.
And that’s my problem, I guess.
I’m a romantic. When the story is unfolding around me, I want to see where the love is. When the movie is dancing across the screen, I look for the lovers.
It’s not like I think love is the only thing there is. But I seem to buy into that old Beatles tune, Love is all you need. Yes there is work, and politics. Yes there is school, and art, and self expression and writing until you aren’t sure what words mean anymore. There is food and wine, football and foosball (thank the gods) and all the things that make life beautiful and worth while. But love is in ALL of that. And without love, none of that would matter to me. I mean, I am able to enjoy all of these things whether single or happily involved. But love is what makes my heart get a beat on.
And so, I suppose, Love will be the end of me.