Entries Tagged 'Lists' ↓

I have never wanted to take away someone’s physical pain as much as I do right now. Witnessing someone you care deeply about in so much pain that they want to die is horrible. Not as horrible as he feels right now, but awful nonetheless.

He can’t speak. He can’t drink. He can’t eat. He can’t breathe. He can’t swallow. He can’t escape, and it’s been going on for weeks now. And there is not a thing in all the world I can do about it, but wish him sweet dreams for relief.

I’ve discovered, after five months, a dozen bizarre conversations and a stinky kiss on the face by a homeless stranger, that walking around San Francisco with earbuds in or headphones on is necessary to successfully avoid the crazy. Or, in my case, being asked for directions. (I haven’t been here long enough to tell anyone anything about how to get anywhere, it’s best they don’t waste their time asking me.) I used to think it was because every one couldn’t get by without music in their ears, and that may be true, but I’m willing to bet most of these headphone listening pedestrians and public transit riders are also trying to prevent conversations like the one I had late one night with a spectacularly inebriated man on BART that mostly consisted of grunts and giggles.

And I’ve also discovered, just as was predicted, that my crush on BART has moved beyond the flirty stage and into that stage where you start to get annoyed by stuff that never bothered you before. When I first moved here I was always very cautious to know the etiquette, but I had to be making some new girl mistakes. So, I was always patient with others. Somehow, that patience wore right the fuck out. Because I was pressing down pretty hard on that clueless lass who was talking on her cell phone, dragging two suitcases and putting her ticket in the wrong way. Then I cut her off at the escalator.

Now when someone doesn’t Stand Right, Walk Left I get all pissy and antsy. I’ve actually now gotten the courage to say “Excuse Me,” to indicate that myself and about 20 other people are trying to come through. They typically figure it out, move right, and then I make it to work 45 seconds sooner than I would have.

More BART pet peeves:

• Beeping video games. I kid you not, this woman played a noisy game of digital Sudoku on her Blackberry so loud that she got hairy eyeballs from at least five people that I counted. She played from the Embarcadero station all the way to Downtown Berkeley with loudass bloops and bleeps every five seconds. It easily penetrated the music coming out of my iPod. I wanted to beat her with the thing by the time she got off.
• Pole huggers. I’m not that short, but I’m not that tall either. If I have to stand on BART, I can’t exactly hold on to the overhead bars for balance without getting up on my tiptoes, which is not the optimal way to ride for 35 minutes. So, I try very hard when standing to get a handled seat to hold on to or one of the vertical rails. At least three people can hold on to a vertical rail, maybe more. And yet, dumb motherfuckers hug the poll like it’s the only friend they have got in the world. When they do that no one else gets to hold onto the poll that can be easily reached by those 5′4″ and under. This drives me crazy, especially when the pole hugger can handily reach the overhead bars. Don’t be a pole hugger.
• Hearing your shitty music. Not only are you damaging your ears, I can promise you that you are the only person loving Anal Thunder at 8 a.m., brother. There is no need to have it so loud. I sometimes wonder if the people who play their music so loudly that the existence of headphones is mere pretense do so because they are feeling that shit so hard that they can’t help but share it with the train. All I know is, people who play music loud enough for other people to hear it play some crappy ass music.
• Staring. This is rude just about anywhere you go. No excuses, people, your mama taught you better.
• Not getting up to let people in or out. If you can’t be arsed to slide to the inside of an empty seat for two, at least get up when a commuter goes to sit down. Swinging your legs to the outside doesn’t cut it. Don’t make me climb all over you, lady. I will do it, and I will win.
• That one sunflower seed eating lady. Every time. She eats them every time. Get a new snack!
• Children making out. I don’t want to see your tongue meet someone else’s on BART. And get your hand out of her skirt. This goes double if you still go to something called “homeroom.”

• Slept fitfully.
• Awoke early for 8 a.m. appointment with CPA.
• Left to catch the train about 10 minutes too late.
• Discover I left all my tax-related paperwork at the top of Bernal Heights.
• Climb back up mountain that is Bernal Heights, sweating and huffing and puffing, call cab.
• Locate folder of paperwork.
• Get in cab, tell him to step on it, then realize I LEFT THE FUCKING PAPERWORK AGAIN.
• Ask cabbie to turn around; he reminds me its a one way street.
• Run back up part of the hill, retrieve paperwork.
• Collapse in cab fighting back tears.
• Arrive at meeting ten minutes late.

It will get better after all that. It must.

• Learn to french braid hair
• Get a glimpse of the Great Wall
• Write a letter in calligraphy
• Sit near a snail and watch it
• Show a child a shooting star
• Learn how to do the worm
• Ride a mechanical bull
• Get really excellent at chess
• Scale the side of a cliff
• Knit a whole something. Anything.
• Slow dance with my father
• Put my three pairs of tap shoes back into use
• Shave my legs with a straight razor
• Write an elaborate play never meant to be staged
• Be someone’s secret admirer
• Skydive
• Dig my toes into the sand in search of other toes on the beaches of Costa Rica
• Hold a stranger as they grieve
• Fast
• Learn to read braille
• Drink absinthe with someone seasoned at it
• Sleep with a cat in a hammock
• Hike until I collapse
• Send a postcard to PostSecret
• Write my memoir
• Learn to make sushi
• Throw a fancy black tie party
• Learn to throw a football
• Spend the night in a tree house
• Host all day Lynch film fest
• Visit Snoqualmie Falls
• Grow my own food
• Ice skate at Rockefeller Center
• Learn a burlesque routine
• Scream in an empty canyon
• Look over a shoulder on the back of a motorcycle racing up the coastline
• Deep sea diving
• Love my body 100%
• Write a will
• Leave a favorite book to be found with a note that says so
• Learn a foreign language fluently
• Chart my genealogy
• Tell on him
• Serve on a jury
• Jump on a train with a notebook and a pen and no plans
• Act as a monster in a haunted house
• Have my portrait painted
• Watch a live birth
• Have dessert at the restaurant first
• Put down onto paper how much my Mom means to me, then give it to her

• Quit my high profile blog job. It wasn’t the quitting I am ashamed of, but the way I went out.
• Stalked people on the internets. That is right, “people.” Multiple.
• Fell in puke. The shame comes from being completely unaware of standing in it in the first place.
• Stopped taking my anti-anxiety medication. Self-explanatory and quickly corrected.
• Insulted people I don’t like using anonymous internet handles. (Seriously, though, these people are douchebags of the highest order.)
• Read The Skinny Website.
• Not filling the holes the dogs dug up when I moved.
• Thought I would look good in leggings, and actually tried some on.
• Got all gung ho about going vegan, then fell off the wagon within months.
• Took a picture of a girl’s ass crack with my phone as she got off the escalator. I didn’t, however, publish it online, so points for me on that one.
• Listened to Chamillionaire way too much.
• Didn’t know who Patton Oswalt was ’til Ratatouille.
• Flipped off an elementary school aged boy.

I would rather have berries than melon.

I would rather be cold than hot.

I would rather swim than ski.

I would rather fly than drive.

I would rather watch reality t.v. than soap operas.

I would rather dine out than eat in.

I would rather have potatoes than meat.

I would rather dance than watch.

I would rather tap shoes than ballet shoes.

I would rather diet soda than regular.

I would rather mascara than lipstick.

I would rather tights than pantyhose.

I would rather Mindy Smith than Carrie Underwood.

I would rather a bath than a shower.

I would rather a funky beat than a screeching guitar solo.

I would rather not know than spoil the mystery.

I would rather wear knee socks than knee high boots.

I would rather drink champagne than a daiquiri.

I would rather read book than do a crossword puzzle.

I would rather take an essay test than multiple choice.

I would rather be scared than scare someone.

(Inspired by Tales Of Mere Existence “A QUICK LIST OF PERSONAL PREFERENCES”)

• Don’t rent from Budget. Their trucks are great, but their customer service is the pits. They told me to drop off the truck today at a location that was closed for two weeks. I could go on, but after my Comcast rant I am exhausted. Just trust me on this. Unless you want to get stuck without a clue where to go in a sketchy ass neighborhood.
• We stayed at the Best Western Hitching Post in Cheyenne, Wyoming. There were horns all over the wood paneled walls, and big, dark carpets over more wood. The hotel clerk wore a kerchief around her neck with buffalo on it. It was very Twin Peaks, and I loved that place. The room was huge! And super clean. Great place to stay, especially if you have pets. There is a giant field behind the location for roaming, peeing and pooping.
• We had nothing but AM/FM radio in the truck. For 2400 miles. It was horrible. I sang a Disney song at full volume at one point in Utah, if I remember correctly, and nearly got broken up with.
• The dogs were so good. They did so well, I have to brag on them. By the third day they were miserable, I could tell, but they soldiered through. They hung in there like champs. The first day we got here Tootie tried to jump down off the porch like she had to jump down out of that tall truck. Poor thing, it was pitiful. I’ve got video of them scrambling up into the cab of that truck like billy goats I’ll try to put up later.
• The Boyfriend drove that big ass 24′ truck with his Honda attached like a pro. Donner Pass didn’t even make him break a sweat. I drove only 90 of the 2400 miles. Such a wimp. He’s my hero. He owned that truck, I tell you.
• I am covered in cuts and bruises from the move. Covered doesn’t adequately describe it, really.
• I’ve already walked more in 72 hours than I usually do in a month. This makes me happy.
• I’ve got to get my bike fixed.
• We have very friendly neighbors. The lady to our left plays violin. The guy to our right has super tall hedges surrounding his domain lending an air of creepy mystery. He has a truck with a pair of plastic balls on it, and a dog who cries long and hard when he leaves.
• Safeway is a ripoff.
• 69 cent pomegranates in the Mission.
• Our house doesn’t have air conditioning. Or heat!
• There were parrots outside the kitchen window this morning.
• I could spend hundreds of dollars every day on things I don’t need but really, really want.
• It got foggy in the East Bay at dusk the other night, and it was so surreal. The only fog I’ve seen is at night or in the morning. It looked like there was a fire somewhere nearby that had smoked up the sky.
• I miss my family.
• Tahoe National Forest smells like pure bliss. It looks awful nice, too.
• I feel really, really, really, really lucky.

• I never heard that line, “This is the 80s, and I’m down wit the ladies,” in “Funky Cold Medina” before. I love it! I’m going to start using that line to reply to questions I don’t know the answer to.
• Every time I see an “I ♥ My Wife” bumper sticker I assume the wife bought it for him and made him put it on his vehicle.

• thunderstorms
• fall foliage
• hillside barns
• See Rock City signs
• “y’all”
• parking spots
• the sound of crickets
• fireflies
• Drew’s Brews
• Marché
• Yazoo
• Waffle House
• the Ryman Auditorium
• twisty back roads that lead you to believe they may go nowhere
• Hatch Show Print signage
• Love Circle
• Dragon Park
• The vast number of musicians who think they’re gonna make it. There is something compelling about people with big dreams.
• wheat fields
• (more to come)

• Good health. Working legs. Beating heart.
• All those rides to cheerleading practice and my boyfriend’s house and SAT prep and academic decathlon my mother gave me. Without her mad chauffeur skills I wouldn’t have flourished like I did in high school.
• A big hearted sister
• Two very good dogs
• Trips to San Francisco
• A seriously kickass boyfriend. Seriously.
• A cubicle
• People who want to hang around me even though I push them away
• A grip on my anxiety
• White wine
• Enough money for food and bills and even a little fun
• The happiness my mom’s husband brings her
• Leeland
• Cooler weather
• New wheels and tires for my ride–no more dangerous bulges!
• Flickr
• Fipi
• The quietest of the voices in my head
• Never mowing the grass because it is too dry to grow
• Badass black wedges for 70% off
• Friends who feel as pretty as they are
  
• Readers of this blog
• Nashville’s mayoral election is almost over
• Feeling wanted
• Melissa might be moving to Nashville
• Plenty of sleep