February Playlist - Looking For a New Love, pt. 2

Has anyone ever written a song for you? Why yes.

Now that I've completed part 1, I wonder what I've accomplished by writing it and continuing on with part 2. What is there to prove by rehashing old, teen aged lost loves?

I think that answer lies partially in the topic: music is a big part of my life, and remembering these songs takes me back to those times when I was a dreamy-eyed teenager in love with love.

But it's mostly about the boys. Once upon a time, these boys were my whole world, or at least a big part of it, and in my current middle-aged nostalgia, I am startled to realize that I am forgetting things -- last names, birth dates, the scent of their cologne, and things that made them special. A few relationships are omitted, simply because I've forgotten too much. It makes me realize I've lost something, a love story reduced to a passing anecdote, for lack of detail.

These stories are a part of who I was in the process of becoming who I am. Those relationships, for better or worse, have helped shape me as a wife, a mother, a friend. And as I write each of these stories, a last kiss to each of you, wherever you are. Even after the love is gone (Earth Wind and Fire), the memory remains that once upon a time, you were in my heart.

I'm starting to get shy, so maybe it's time to edit names to protect the young and stupid? Not that any of my faithful readers *crickets* would know who these people are anyway, but the internet moves in mysterious ways...


K, "Unknown" - K was my first real boyfriend, my first love, with none of the juvenile "going together" middle school stuff. He was a cook where I was waitressing at my after school job. We came together, broke apart, and found each other way too many times over the course of 2 years. I was completely and totally in love with him.

Our first kiss was at the employee Christmas party, when he offered to give me a ride home. I blathered something about liking him, respect, confusion and when he put his hand on my knee I pretty much forgot everything else. This resulted in heavy flirtation, hanging out with friends, sneaking kisses when we thought no one was watching. Things kind of came to an end when I was laid off after the Christmas rush.

I was rehired in May, but flirting did not start back right away. He then invited me to his high school graduation party. I showed up, shyly offering him a graduation present of fortune cookies in a takeout gift container. I was introduced to his family as his "little friend", then we went to different part of the house and made out.

We had a fantastic summer together, going on dates, hanging out with friends. Then September came. I was excited to start my senior year. He was stuck, not really knowing WHAT to do next and putting off college. There was additional pressure to, ahem, let nature take its course and I resisted, not wanting to become a high school senior cliche.

Oh Lord, what happened next. He decided to enroll in bar tending school after having seen way too many cheesy late-night advertisements. He wanted me to run away with him, assuring me that I could enroll in high school where he was going. I balked, and said no. Yeah, we broke up.

We avoided each other at work for quite some time (bar tending school didn't happen - or did it? I don't remember). I was ready to move on, and began hanging out with E (see below). One of our close friends decided to get married on Valentine's Day, and I was a bridesmaid. K decided that this was his now-or-never-moment, the grand gesture to forever win my heart, and presented me with a thick, sealed envelope. He explained that he had written a long, detailed letter declaring his love for me, and included a song he wrote with his band about me, for me.

I took the envelope, and considered what opening and reading it would do. No one had ever written a song about me, that is Pattie-Boyd/Something/Layla epic. A surefire way to woo me. Would I get back together with him? Probably. Would it be a mistake? Probably.

In one of the few regrets I've had in my life, I dropped the thick envelope in the trash, unread.


Jody Watley, "Looking for a New Love" - E! How to explain it. We were great friends and of course, I harbored a crush on him. He, however, had a secret - he was gay and trying to keep it from the family. He tried put up a front to others about our relationship, in an are-they-or-aren't-they-dating sort of way. When his brother made a passing comment about the attractiveness of my assets, E made the necessary suggestive proposals, and we were an item.

He was a fantastic boyfriend. There were gifts, hilarious inside jokes, wildly flirtatious love letters heavy with innuendo, chocolate surprises, sentimental tokens. Our dates were fun, adventurous, and definitely not your typical dinner and a movie. One night in particular, warm for March, I remember sitting in the driveway at my parents' house, arms wrapped around each other, pointing at the stars and listening to top 40 and singing the refrain from Jody Watley's hit with all the attitude we could muster "hasta la vista -- BABY!" There were serious make out sessions, but E politely and quite gentlemanly never progressed beyond first base.  Oh I was thrilled to not fight wayward hands, but sensed that the pieces didn't fit.

Around Easter (naughty Easter card about carrots, over sized Peter Cottontail chocolate bunny, beach ball/palm tree key chain from California), I was getting antsy about the senior prom and tired of waiting for him to ask me, I asked him.

This I think was the line he didn't want to cross, an indicator that I wanted things to get more serious. So - he broke up with me, and said he couldn't explain it and couldn't talk to me about it. Devastated, I complied but things between us were strained and we barely talked in the weeks leading up to the dance.

He showed up with his dear friend M as his date, and I with J, a good friend who gallantly stepped in as a date. I decided on the spot that I missed him in my life, and we reconciled our friendship on the dance floor.

The next few weeks for E were a roller coaster, as we prepared for graduation and his dad was diagnosed with and died of cancer in a matter of weeks. Once the dust settled, he met me after work to talk to me about something serious, and that is when he came out to me as "being happy." How do I handle this news with grace? I bluntly asked "are you telling me you're gay? Does that mean we can talk about boys now?"

Shortly thereafter, he did his thing by moving to California, enrolling in school and living his life as his father asked him to. Whenever I get those goofy forwarded emails that say "there are 5 people out in the world who love you and you don't even know it," I know am one of those 5 people for E.


Holy crap, really? How about a short one?


Breathe, "Hands to Heaven" - A completely unrequited crush on someone much older than me, possibly gay, who was a good friend. He and I both loved the song, and the thought of a possibly/maybe flirtation bridged a barren gap in my non-existent love life that summer.


Whew, I'm spinning yarns! Part 3 coming up, and while it doesn't matter to you, it matters to me.

February Playlist - The Breakup Songs, pt. 1

Girls are scary... a still from the video "Jeopardy" that illustrates this installment better than a still from "The Breakup Song." Really Greg?

So Valentine's Day is coming up and thoughts turn to... breakups? This is in no way reflective of the current state of affairs for me thankyouverymuch, but in my past, this was always a tumultuous time of year. Also, I stumbled upon an episode of Stuff Mom Never Told You about break up songs and why they hurt so good - endorphins tapping into our psyche and all. Also, there was a Yahoo! article on the same subject and while not as entertaining as Cristen and Caroline, supported their research on the subject.

What follows is a list of the songs that - more or less - nursed me through the boo-hoos when boys were mean.

Greg Khin Band "The Breakup Song" - has absolutely nothing to do with breaking up with someone for me, but it is a fun song from my tween years. One distinct memory I have of the song is our next door neighbor Patty driving me and my sisters and her cousins in her huge Oldsmobile to Vandercook Lake for an afternoon at the beach. We made crazy sandwiches and I ate banana and mustard. I remember vividly sitting in the backseat with Candi, Sara, and Heather, screaming "they don't write 'em like that anymore!" at the top of our lungs. Yeah, 1981 rocked.

Journal entry, 1982. The sentence started on the previous page and was "I want to know what if..." Answer: no. My 12 year old heart breaks. Ah, get ready for 10+ more years of this crap, kid.

Journey "Open Arms" - this one is almost too embarrassing to type. The ills of an unrequited crush. See, T was the cutest boy in our class, and I was one of many who had huge crushes on him. The reality of the situation was I was his closest girl friend but not his girlfriend - boy the space between those two words is significant. While I pined, I also was his sounding board as he "went with" J, M and R, two of my cousins and my best friend. He even asked me to deliver a heart-shaped box of candy on his behalf to R on VD when he was too shy to do it.

I saw him at the church's parish picnic the summer of 1982, and while we had fun hanging out, he wanted me to find out if one of my cousins, probably J, still liked him and wanted to get back together. You know, I think my little pre-teen brain snapped. Later that night, heart in my throat, I watched the Saturday Night Concert on MTV. The tear-soaked letter I wrote to T started "I'm watching Journey right now on MTV, and Steve Perry is singing 'Open Arms,' and after today, my arms will never be open to you again." Angst to the nth degree!

Of course, I never sent him the letter, and as time went on and I met more boys, I got over him and our friendship settled into something sweeter. I wish I knew where he was and hope I see him at our class reunion. Reading this over, I'm glad to have typed it anyway, because who hasn't been that silly teenager?

The Beatles "For No One" - Oh, this would be CH. He was the son of a co-worker who let his feelings known by purchasing a fundraiser construction paper shamrock and having it plastered over the bar, on Valentine's Day, at midnight. He was tall, handsome, sandy, but a little adrift in life, not sure where he was going or what he was going to do next. There had been talk of him studying philosophy or psychology at Spring Arbor College, but when I was with him he was a carpenter/garbage truck driver. What set him apart was his mother's regal influence over him, and I was immediately charmed. One of the loveliest evenings I spent with him was a dinner party at her house. It was a celebration of Pavarotti at the Met, broadcast on PBS. I wore a creamy yellow sweater dress and heels and we had Cornish hens and pork chops with stuffing at little tables set up bistro-style. I felt like a lady, and his mother's friends were complimentary of my manners and welcomed me into their discussion.

I found my old diaries from the time we saw each other, and I had forgotten how intense he was. The product of a broken home, we went from a first kiss to him musing over marriage a week later. He clung to me in a way that at first I found breathlessly romantic, but smothering after a month. He called me constantly, at one job, the other job, at home. Thank God cell phones did not exist back then.

Alas, he broke my heart on Good Friday, just before he was supposed to meet the extended family at Easter dinner. The reason? There are things in life one should not be pressured into, making love or saying I love you. All things in due time, but for CH, the time was now or never. Also, I think his own intensity got to the better of him, because for the week leading up to our breakup, he couldn't stand being apart, but being with me wasn't a picnic either. There is also maybe his doubts about how I felt about him. At that time, I tended towards protecting my emotions for fear of getting hurt and maybe wasn't as demonstrative as he wished me to be .

I think too he recieved a lot of pressure from others to lay off for a while, let me do my thing because of how busy I was. I was working two jobs and going to two different schools as I was figuring out who I wanted to be. I was truly running on empty some days, and all I wanted to do was collapse in his arms with the last bit of energy I had. What they didn't know, and maybe what I never conveyed is while school and work were the things I had to do, he was what I wanted to do, the only place I truly wanted to be.

It was around this time that I transitioned from "greatest hits" compilations to actual Beatles albums, and Revolver was, and still is, one of my favorites. While I numbingly went about the business of working, going to school and trying to forget him, this bassoon-driven ballad seemed to say exactly what I was going through.

CH was remorseful, and stalked me for a while in hopes of reconciling, sulking around corners at Walgreens, surprising me as I stocked aisles or filled prescriptions. One of the pharmacists, who treated me like a little sister, chased him away, along with a stock boy who kissed me to distract me. The last time I saw him was unfortunately the same day I was supposed to see an old crush from high school at a party. Both scenes ended badly, and I ended up with a vodka-induced headache for 3 days afterwards.

To this day, I regret our breakup because it meant the end of my friendship with his dear mother Marilyn. She piqued my interest in classical music and other beautiful things in life. Of all the people in life I have met, she remains the benchmark of class and elegance. I found out that she succombed to cancer a few years later.

Scene of the crime! The location of our first kiss! I didn't stalk, it's for sale, cheap.

I'm editing this as a postscript, because this relationship seems to be lingering in my head, 24 years past its due date. Blame the time of year, blame mid-life yarn-spinning, blame my need for justifying everything, most of all, blame the feeling of loss I'm coping with in response to my dad. I'm trying to put all the pieces of the story back together for my egotistical amusement, an impossible task without access to CH to go get drunk and have a laugh at the two immature lovers we were.

It's easy to dismiss the relationship as foolishness by an 18 year old, but wow, I can't. I do remember that at the time, I truly loved him. I did, as much as a shy, virginal teenager can express. I'm usually pretty good about remembering crazy details, but my brain has protected that tiny little portion of my heart that is still 18 by editing from my memory what CH said when he broke up with me; all I know is it was heartlessly cruel. I distinctly recall, however, how my heart physically felt when I walked out that door - it was akin to a blast to the chest, painful and hollow. I also remember screaming to myself, calling myself a fool for falling for him so hard, so fast when everyone warned me against it. I cried for weeks, maybe even a month straight. Above I mentioned being numb, and that is an apt description.

His first "visit" to Walgreens post-breakup is etched in my mind, when he came to apologize with the hopes to reunite. Shaking in my Keds sneakers, trying desperately not to cry, I simply said in the strongest voice I could muster, "You broke my heart." I think that is when I broke his. He responded quietly that he regretted what he said the minute he said it, and spent the last month trying to figure out how to make it up to me, didn't know what to do to make it better and asked me how. It echoes in my head that I said "I don't know..." That was also our last kiss; his kiss was an apology and a question and it took every bit of willpower I had not to give in.

This is where perhaps I made my mistake. While we did indeed breakup, it was a fight, a stupid fight that should have been forgiven. God, I still loved him, but it hurt me that I did. Determined not to be a fool, forgiveness was not an option, no matter how often he hung out at Walgreens reading magazines and buying one stick of deodorant after another as a pretext for being there.

Yet I feel I need to offer up what was magical about him. Why? I'm bothered by my immaturity. And the fact I haven't talked to anyone from that time in my life for a long time, it's as if it never happened and I can't accept that. If I can remember him, then he did exist, it did happen and he did matter. This can also stand in as an apology to him, 24 years too late.

He is perhaps the only boy I fell in love with at first sight. When Mike, the bartender attempted to console me after our breakup, he said, "I know I warned you against falling for him, but I was too late, wasn't I?" Yep.

First kiss, total magic - he bashfully asked for permission after showing me his uncle's house (above) and enveloped me in a romantic embrace while fat snowflakes gently danced around us.

His kisses were magic -- at 6'7" to my 5'3", it was probably easier to pick me up and swing me around while kissing me. No objections here, I kind of liked being swept off my feet. He kind of swept me off my feet even when they were planted firmly on the ground anyway.

In my diaries when describing a night, date or dinner together, I always ended the story with "I floated home."

He made me feel beautiful, radiant, loved, cherished and wanted, even when I was greasy, angry, hot and tired.

For some reason, every time I think of him, Debussy's "Clair de Lune" plays in my mind. How lovely, and I have no idea why.

He worked to put me at ease when I was timid, awkward and shy.

He believed in us before there even was an us. Problem was he gave it up and didn't let me have a say in the matter until my heart was hardened against reconciliation.

*sigh* Couple of silly kids not able to manage it.

Update! I did find him, easy as pie: the internet is a magical thing sometimes. I sent him a simple note to let him know about my dad, share my thoughts about his mom and her influence on me and that I was glad he was once part of my life. No response, wasn't really expecting one, but it sets my mind at ease that I had the courage to reach out and the possibility of reconnecting as friends exists.


Like any classic soul song from the 70s, I'm labelling this pt. 1. More to come later.. stupid boys.

The Phenomenon of Pop Culture and its Effect on the Public's Knowledge of Mellivora capensis

According to Wikipedia, a honey badger is (Mellivora capensis), also known as the ratel, is a species of mustelid native to Africa, Southwest Asia, and the Indian Subcontinent.

Tell that to "Randall."

Randall is the narrator of the hilarious un-scientific viral youtube video entitled "The Nasty Crazyass Honey Badger." Using National Geographic footage of a honey badger in the African wild, Randall spoofs the seriousness of your typical nature show by describing the badger in a vulgar, effeminate, and sometimes exasperated narration, including the popular line that the honey badger "doesn't give a $^!#."

In pop culture, the descriptive narration of the badger as a badass has been appropriated by the show Glee, college football experts, and the reference embraced by my clique, Johnny Weir's description of figure skater Keegan Messing. The moniker stuck to the diminutive Alaskan skater, and by Sunday afternoon, was referenced several times by NBC broadcasters Scott Hamilton.

So what's to love? Well... it's funny. The narrator treats the badger in the wild as a badass with a bone to pick with the world. The text is teeming with catchphrases that can be repeated, giggled about, and passed on. As with any phenomena of the past, such as "Where's the Beef?", "Party time, excellent!", "All your base are belong to us," is the catch phrases are easily digestible, easily understood and briefly become part of popular culture. It will also quickly become a thing of the past by the summer.

So embrace and relish the absurdity, hilarity and 2012-ness of the honey badger. Or don't... honey badger don't care.

What's Right with the World - A Penny for a Ride

A local grocery store chain has a very nice feature in their store, a mechanical horse ride named Sandy that a kid can ride for a penny.

These days of debit cards, food stamps, extreme couponing and rubbing two nickels together to make the grocery bill can make a penny or two scarce. That's why I was so heartened to see this little pile of pennies on Sandy's base, making it possible for 5 kids to get a free ride.

It's only pennies, so what makes this so special? The insignificance of it makes it significant. There's no glory in giving a penny, but SOMEONE had to make an effort to give it. As a gift, it's intent is pure -- go have fun it, it's on me. And to see them there was a delightful surprise to me.

I took a picture of the pile and posted it on facebook. Immediately, friends and family posted reminices of riding Sandy after grocery shopping. Others were also inspired to leave their own pile of pennies in the grocery store to give other penniless kids a treat.

Just a little thing about the nature of people that makes me smile.

Why Art Matters - Michelle Kwan

Michelle performing arguably her most iconic program, Lyra Angelica.

With US Figure Skating Nationals starting next week and her induction into the USFSA's Hall of Fame, it is only fitting this Why Art Matters is dedicated to Michelle Kwan. 

Where to even start? Nutshell bio, Michelle burst onto the senior skating scene with an impressive 6th place finish at the US Nationals in 1993. One year later, she was the Olympic alternate, finishing a quiet second in the midst of the Tonya/Nancy controversy.

But Kwan would not live in the shadow of the scandal for long. From this unassuming start to her skating career, she went on to become the most decorated figure skater in US history: 9 national titles, 5 world titles, two Olympic medals in silver and bronze.

But what sets Michelle apart from other skaters, outside of her victorious streak? While other skaters trotted out tried and true fare like Carmen, Swan Lake, and movie soundtracks, Kwan pushed the envelope with musical choices like The Feeling Begins, Taj Mahal, Song of the Black Swan, A Day in the Life and her legendary East of Eden.

She trusted choreographer Lori Nichol and with her created masterful pieces like Rachmaninoff short of '98, Lyra Angelica, The Red Violin, Romanza, Salome.  She had such a backlog of amazing programs, she tossed aside such classics in the making as Rush and The Miraculous Mandarin.

Then there was the actual skating itself. She revived and popularized moves such as the spiral, the falling leaf, the Charlotte spiral, and Y spin. She turned a weakness, the layback spin, into a strength by creating variations that saved her back and made sense within the program. She was also a consistent competitor who can lay claim to the most clean 6 and 7-triple long program in competition.

Even in the face of loss, Kwan showed distinct grace few competitors could match. The legitimate second place finisher during the national championships in 1994, Kwan had a claim to the an Olympic spot, a place she demurely relinquished to Nancy Kerrigan without fuss, fight or a lawsuit. Her reward was the silver in '98. A disappointment? While she was the gold-medal favorite, she pointed out many times in interviews and press conferences that a.) nothing in this life is guaranteed; b.) she won the silver with a great performance; c.) that Tara, someone that she likes, won. In '02, coming up short as the bronze medalist, she continued to be her philosophical self, and bravely skated an exhibition to Fields of Gold, a melancholy song about loss that brought so much about who Kwan is into perspective. And finally, having been petitioned onto the Olympic team in 2006, she aggravated an injury that made competing impossible. Instead of trying to hide the injury or tough it out, she graciously relinquished her spot to US bronze medalist Emily Hughes, who turned a once-in-a-lifetime chance into a seventh place finish.

Kwan has moved on with her life in the fields of education and politics. What she has left behind is a staggeringly masterful body of work that will be used as a bar for other ladies - US and the world - to reach. While she has been surpassed athletically by skaters such as Yu-Na Kim and Mao Asada, none thus far have taken judges and an audience on an emotional 4-minute journey quite like Kwan.

Typing Out Loud - working with a headache

Oh dear God, I've been trying to write this for a couple hours. I feel like my IQ drops a signinficant number of points when a tension headache gets so bad I can barely function. It hurts so bad, my ear hurts. So this could be a line list of rambling crap, a typing out loud early January entry.

"Happy Endings" - supposed to be hilarious, but after watching several episodes, I don't get it.

Awesome update: my quirky ancedote earned me not one but TWO entries in the 5/3 RBR, so I guess I'm doing it after all. The great news is there is a 7am heat going out so I can do this and judge in Holland later on.

Household improvements have been a consistent chore since the introduction of the tile and carpeting. I spent a whole week in the kitchen alone, wiping down cabinets, repainting walls, polishing the trash can, and scrubbing appliances. Other chores have been new curtains and rods, new blinds and a new paint job/coating for the counter top in the master bath. Next up should be new flooring in the laundry room, the room that incidentially got things going last year.

Bad boy: Will ate 4 ice cream sandiwches for breakfast yesterday, much to my dismay. I understand how he was able to sneak ONE, but FOUR? He polished one off, and pulled two more out of nowhere. The fourth was after his bath and he had a fistfull of mushy cookie and cream - and sometimes, it's just better to let it go.

I fell asleep last night contemplating truth v. lying and wondering if honesty is always the best policy. I know the truth can hurt, but when is it too painful and delusion and fibs are the best policy? Nothing personal, just one of those things that make you go hmmmm.

I found a new podcast that I love, Stuff Mom Never Told You. It's a mix of history, sociology, science and technology but from a feminist point of view. I downloaded a handful last week and listened to them on a trip to Jackson, came home and downloaded 50 more. Fascinating topics have included female income disparity, baby beauty pagents, absorbed twins, nuns, facts about abortion (sans politics), and imaginary friends. I appreciate the hosts because their delivery is engaging conversation without being giggly girly.

Van Der Sloot feels "really bad" about killing the Peruvian girl? Well, at least you apologized you sack of crap. Ridiculous.

Can't wait for US Figure Skating Nationals. Two weeks is too long!

How long until catchers and pitchers report? Will is anxiously awaiting the Caps to start.

January Playlist - Let's Take a Chance

I've got no amazing playlist planned for this month, so I'm going to open my iPhone, "spin" the song list three times, and list the first 3 songs that come up, and one last time for the "joker's wild" 10th selection.

Get yer earbuds!

Spin #1!
Bullet the Blue Sky - U2
Buncha Girls - Frankie Ballard
Buttercup - Lucinda Williams

Spin #2!
The Game Has Changed - Daft Punk
Get Out of Denver - Bob Seger
Girl That I Knew Somewhere - The Monkees

Spin #3!
Pon De Replay - Rihanna
Pop Goes the Weasel - 3rd Bass
The Power - Snap!

Joker's Wild!
Sugar Bee - Cleveland Crochet

So what did we get? One cajun song, old school rap, industrial, a couple dance/club songs, classic rock, indie rock, 60s pop and country rock. That was as random as possible...