I knew that I'd probably have time to write a blog post today so I thought briefly about what to tackle. I have a post that is just dying to be finished about moms and their inability to give truthful advice to each other. And another about women and self-deprecation. Those are there for another day, though. Today, I just feel like typing out things that are, for lack of a better term, random. Things that are of no particular interest to anyone really.
My Top 6 Favorite Songs
1. Suffragette City by David Bowie. When I was in college and made coffee for a living, I always worked the closing shift. My favoritest manager ever would turn on music for us as we did the mopping up and putting away. He would play Suffragette City for me just so he could hear me yell "WHAM BAM THANK YOU MA'AM!!!!" And I did it, no matter how tired I was, and yes, it always made me feel 700 times better.
2. Howling for You by The Black Keys. I adore this song. It is my "getting ready to go somewhere" song. I also have a black skirt that I call my Howling for You skirt. I don't know why. It just seems appropriate.
3. Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen. Thematically, this song fits my station in life better than any other (except for maybe Beg Steal or Borrow by Ray LaMontagne).
4. Gimme Shelter by The Rolling Stones.
5. Soma by the Smashing Pumpkins. This was my favorite song when I was my daughter's age. She is enamored with Cobra Starship right now. I wonder if she will keep a place in her heart for them when she is my age.
6. Because the Night by Patti Smith. Because I can sing it like nobody's business.
And a near tie--Better Man by Pearl Jam. I have a whole teenage pseudo-romantic story to go along with this one, but that's for another day. Also, Knockin' on Heaven's Door by Bob Dylan.
I am thinking of applying to get my MFA next year. I don't really know. I am definitely considering it. And this is officially the first time I've admitted that to anyone. WHEW. In order to do that, I need to work on my (sad, whiny) novel. And in order to do that, I need to get someone to read it for me. I am thinking of asking my high school English teacher, which seems a bit sad. I also thought of this professor I had in college, but I can't figure out if I want to ask him because I think he would be a good source for help on my writing or because I think he is hot.
If I don't write the great American novel (or at the least, a serviceable novel that someone can make a really crappy movie adaptation of), I think I am going to open a pie shop. Or start a Patti Smith cover band.
I do not know how to ride a bike. Another fact about me that few people know. I had a bike as a kid, but I never really learned--the best I could do was fly down the hill behind our house on it (which technically, a blind paraplegic monkey could do). I have decided I really want to learn. I have consulted a couple of bike riders about this, and the overwhelming consensus is that yes, I can learn, but that it is going to hurt a lot more when I fall now that I am an old lady. But I think I am determined (I think....) and I think I am going to go through with it. I have located an old bike of my mom's to learn on. Now, I don't think I am going to be any great bike rider. But at least I will know how. And I can, you know, if called to by a deranged serial killer who tells me that he will disembowel me unless I can bike in a circle while singing the Marseillaise with peanut butter in my mouth, do what needs to be done.
I have never liked potato chips. I mean, they're ok, and I'll eat them at a party or with some beer or something. I like the baked ones ok. BUT. I have become obsessed with Kashi pita chips. I really need to stop with the pita chips. But they are so good! So amazingly good. And because they are from Kashi, I can lie to myself and say that they are good for me. Yesterday, I really wanted some, so I went to Wal-Mart. And they didn't have them! God, I hate Wal-Mart. I hate Wal-Mart more than I hate beets.
I have lost the will to watch Law and Order: SVU since Stabler left. A pour out for my homie.
Sometimes I feel like I am a girl without a country.