Well, I've been keeping this backstage for quite awhile now, and I'm still not ready. I don't know if I'll ever be ready, and that's why I forced myself to just take the step I knew I needed to take. The whole...commitment thing, I guess. Did you know R suggested I lease a car? I laughed - at myself - and told her, "Sis, did you hear what you just told me? Leasing a car is not going to help me with my commitment issues at all; it's only going to perpetuate them!"
I'm rambling...you know, Shoelaces is like a child to me. It's my place. It's this wonderful piece of virtual webness that I created. Everything you read here is me. It's not sort of me. It's not a cousin to me. It's not about me or near me or close to me. It. Is. Me.
And because it has become so important to me and...maybe...important to some of you. I have decided to commit to it. I know, I know - it only took two and a half years, but believe me, that's actually not so long considering who we're dealing with here. Short story made long, I am moving Shoelaces for Josie to...*drum roll*...a new hole in the web!!
Wait for it...wait for it...okay don't hold your breath because it really creeps me out when people faint: Shoelaces for Josie. <--Click here. It'll take you to my new home. And I mean that - this is the last move. We're staying at http://shoelaces4josie.com until forever and beyond and back.
I hope you all follow me over there. I hope you bookmark it and come read and leave comments and mushy, mushy, mushy...in fact, if you go there right now, you'll find the latest greatest post about life. Shoelaces folks? Here's to the next 50 years. I'm in this one for the long haul, baby.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Life's Ride
This life, it's a ride. But, ya know? I'm kinda thinking that maybe I'm on a really big horse carrying a bunch of folks, and it's been awhile since I've had a turn at holding the reins. Part of me wants those reins. Another part of me is scared to be hanging on to them. And the third part of me is on the fence, and you know what they say about people who ride fences...I've never met anybody who likes a sore crotch.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
It's the Music
I don't know where it all began with me and music. Oh, I know where it started I suppose. I was four years old running around the yard with Brother when R yelled out the back door, asking us if we wanted to take piano lessons. Ten years later I was an accomplished pianist who hated to play.
But that's not what I'm talking about...I'm talking about the point when music - other people's music - became something more than music to me. It probably started somewhere in high school, birthed quietly in all that teen angst. And then I went to college and that tiny little flame burst into a rip-roaring wildfire. A fire that I've just recently discovered was so big and so powerful that even he wasn't able to put it out for good.
You see, he and I were really, really good at music. Not making music - I don't think he had a musical bone in his body, and maybe that's how I was better at it than he was. I could connect with the musicians in a way he never could. But the bands and the DJing and the concerts and the late nights sorting through new CDs and watching music videos? Music was the one thing we were really good at doing together. Well...it wasn't the only thing, but...it was the one thing he couldn't ever use against me. Like I said, in a lot of ways I was better at it than he was, and he knew it.
That was kind of ironic - that I was better at it than he was - because he was the one who got me started in the DJing business. A couple months into it, it was like I'd never been a day without it. I guess that bothered him. I suppose I did recognize that at the time; I just didn't ever address it. Also rather ironically, I am no longer in any type of music business because of him and he still is because of me. Funny how life works out, huh?
I loved the music part. I don't love many things...the music though? It was love...is love. And for the past four years, I thought maybe it was gone. I thought maybe he'd taken that away too, because somewhere along the line, all the uber sucky crappiness of our personal lives intertwined itself with our music lives. They became one and the same for me, and the music I used to love became symbolic of him. And then it was him. And then...I just couldn't stick it.
Music? Are you listening? I'm sorry I quit on us. I tried...you know I tried. I waded through several months of hurt trying to figure out how to get across the gaping chasm that was placed between us. And I couldn't. I couldn't figure it out, and I couldn't take the pain so I left.
But I guess that's the funny thing about love, because here I am. Back at the music. Back to loving it - in an even bigger way, a more real way than before. I was tentative at first. I reached out slowly to see if it was really in front of me, to see if it would fade away again. I reached out fearfully, afraid he would be there like he has been so many times in the past four years. And I reached out hopefully because I've been missing the piece of my heart that fell in love with music all those years ago.
Hey there, wait...stop - listen. Can you hear it? It's the music.
But that's not what I'm talking about...I'm talking about the point when music - other people's music - became something more than music to me. It probably started somewhere in high school, birthed quietly in all that teen angst. And then I went to college and that tiny little flame burst into a rip-roaring wildfire. A fire that I've just recently discovered was so big and so powerful that even he wasn't able to put it out for good.
You see, he and I were really, really good at music. Not making music - I don't think he had a musical bone in his body, and maybe that's how I was better at it than he was. I could connect with the musicians in a way he never could. But the bands and the DJing and the concerts and the late nights sorting through new CDs and watching music videos? Music was the one thing we were really good at doing together. Well...it wasn't the only thing, but...it was the one thing he couldn't ever use against me. Like I said, in a lot of ways I was better at it than he was, and he knew it.
That was kind of ironic - that I was better at it than he was - because he was the one who got me started in the DJing business. A couple months into it, it was like I'd never been a day without it. I guess that bothered him. I suppose I did recognize that at the time; I just didn't ever address it. Also rather ironically, I am no longer in any type of music business because of him and he still is because of me. Funny how life works out, huh?
I loved the music part. I don't love many things...the music though? It was love...is love. And for the past four years, I thought maybe it was gone. I thought maybe he'd taken that away too, because somewhere along the line, all the uber sucky crappiness of our personal lives intertwined itself with our music lives. They became one and the same for me, and the music I used to love became symbolic of him. And then it was him. And then...I just couldn't stick it.
Music? Are you listening? I'm sorry I quit on us. I tried...you know I tried. I waded through several months of hurt trying to figure out how to get across the gaping chasm that was placed between us. And I couldn't. I couldn't figure it out, and I couldn't take the pain so I left.
But I guess that's the funny thing about love, because here I am. Back at the music. Back to loving it - in an even bigger way, a more real way than before. I was tentative at first. I reached out slowly to see if it was really in front of me, to see if it would fade away again. I reached out fearfully, afraid he would be there like he has been so many times in the past four years. And I reached out hopefully because I've been missing the piece of my heart that fell in love with music all those years ago.
Hey there, wait...stop - listen. Can you hear it? It's the music.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Through Today
There's a song..."whatever gets you through today"...what gets you through your day?
- the beautiful countryside in which I live
- the breeze in my hair
- knowing there's something bigger
- being there for the people who need me
- writing
- running - the physical act of jogging on a level surface
- moments of smiles and laughter
- finding the amusing side of life
- being free
- and...Nick? "embrace the moment, cherish it, it's all we have"
- the beautiful countryside in which I live
- the breeze in my hair
- knowing there's something bigger
- being there for the people who need me
- writing
- running - the physical act of jogging on a level surface
- moments of smiles and laughter
- finding the amusing side of life
- being free
- and...Nick? "embrace the moment, cherish it, it's all we have"
Sunday, July 12, 2009
The Wrangler That Almost Was
See, here's the thing about Jeep Wranglers. They worm their wormy little way right into your heart. Gosh, he was such a cute little guy. Fit me great. Mechanically in order. All the personality in the world. I'm tellin' ya...this topped the top of all my vehicle crushes...even the great Camaro crush of '06. I mean, when I drove this puppy, people noticed me. And when I say notice, I mean noticed. Shoot, I even had little kids waving at me as I bumped my way down the road. Lemme tell ya, that does not happen in White Flash.
But tonight I sit. Still with White Flash. Sadly without that cute little bug of a Jeep Wrangler. Why? The Man Who Asked Too Much was - well - too high in his askance of doll-hairs. I gave it a lot of thought. I weighed it from every angle known to man, all angles known to woman and a few known solely by me. And when the hammer came down at the midnight hour, I decided I had to teach myself a lesson. I'm a terrrrrible bartering sort of person (i.e.: I can't. Or I won't. Or I don't know how? Regardless, I fail. Every time.) And being the slightly, occassionally intelligent person I can sometimes be, I knew the first lesson in gaining some type of skill at bartering was to be willing to walk away and leave it on the table.
So I drove Jeep Wrangler back to his home. And as I was talking to The Man Who Asked Too Much, I mentioned that I had Kelley Blue Booked the vehicle and quoted the price I had found - nearly half of his asking price.
He glanced at me. "Well, we don't use Kelley Blue Book around here. That means absolutely nothing. I'm not trying to rip you off here at all."
He rattled off a bunch of names and numbers and *yawn*.
I smiled sweetly at The Man and said, "I may be from Iowa, but I know what I'm talking about and I know you're too high, and I'm not going to pay!...oh, and thanks very much, you've been great to work with."
I have no idea if I learned anything about bartering today. I think I learned a little bit more about people, and that's a good thing. I'm a little sad. I sure liked seeing Jeep Wrangler sitting in my driveway but heck, maybe I wasn't ready for all that noticement anyway. And I don't really need it...which is a good thing because White Flash doesn't garner any attention except for when I drive by the nursing home...
But still, I'm just a little bit sad. I'll remember you my little Jeep Wrangler, the Wrangler that almost was. Thank God I never named you or you'd be sitting in my driveway, and my bank account would be zeroing in on the skinny.
But tonight I sit. Still with White Flash. Sadly without that cute little bug of a Jeep Wrangler. Why? The Man Who Asked Too Much was - well - too high in his askance of doll-hairs. I gave it a lot of thought. I weighed it from every angle known to man, all angles known to woman and a few known solely by me. And when the hammer came down at the midnight hour, I decided I had to teach myself a lesson. I'm a terrrrrible bartering sort of person (i.e.: I can't. Or I won't. Or I don't know how? Regardless, I fail. Every time.) And being the slightly, occassionally intelligent person I can sometimes be, I knew the first lesson in gaining some type of skill at bartering was to be willing to walk away and leave it on the table.
So I drove Jeep Wrangler back to his home. And as I was talking to The Man Who Asked Too Much, I mentioned that I had Kelley Blue Booked the vehicle and quoted the price I had found - nearly half of his asking price.
He glanced at me. "Well, we don't use Kelley Blue Book around here. That means absolutely nothing. I'm not trying to rip you off here at all."
He rattled off a bunch of names and numbers and *yawn*.
I smiled sweetly at The Man and said, "I may be from Iowa, but I know what I'm talking about and I know you're too high, and I'm not going to pay!...oh, and thanks very much, you've been great to work with."
I have no idea if I learned anything about bartering today. I think I learned a little bit more about people, and that's a good thing. I'm a little sad. I sure liked seeing Jeep Wrangler sitting in my driveway but heck, maybe I wasn't ready for all that noticement anyway. And I don't really need it...which is a good thing because White Flash doesn't garner any attention except for when I drive by the nursing home...
But still, I'm just a little bit sad. I'll remember you my little Jeep Wrangler, the Wrangler that almost was. Thank God I never named you or you'd be sitting in my driveway, and my bank account would be zeroing in on the skinny.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Words
The words I have to say are all in my heart, and I can't get them to come past my lips. I wish...I want...if only I could manage to say everything this day has held for me. But I can't. And so I won't. And that's just how it has to be.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Blog Barf
I've started this entry about eighteen times now. I type out a few words, punch the delete key furiously. Stare blankly at the screen. Repeat...seventeen more times. And it's just no blasted use. I can't blog barf tonight, and that's a shame because I usually blog barf so beautifully - such effortless projectile spewing in a rampant stream into the porcelain abyss known as Shoelaces...
So instead, I'm going to sip on this brewskie, contemplate the eighteen different things I tried to write about and wonder if there maybe isn't a more eloquent - and less graphic - way than "blog barf" to call this thing that I do.
So instead, I'm going to sip on this brewskie, contemplate the eighteen different things I tried to write about and wonder if there maybe isn't a more eloquent - and less graphic - way than "blog barf" to call this thing that I do.
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