Nuances Can be Nuisances

I am going through a very strange period in my life indeed. I'm not sure if it is the insomnia, the sickness, or self-reflection catching up with me.

I could quite possibly have short-circuited finally, and maybe I have become one with the 40 oz. of crazy that I should have dealt with a long time ago.

But I don't really deal with things. Not in the manner that I guess they should technically be dealt with. I like laughing and having fun and being witty and making sardonic comments so that I don't have to feel that sense of doom that is always hanging over my head like a big fat gray raincloud.

My actions have always been impetuous, ever since I was a child. Yet I have always been prideful of the fact that I don't over-analyze things and I am quick to let any feelings of panic by way of my actions go with but a brush of the hand.

I cleaned out my garage on Sunday. It was a hellhole. It was also fucking unreasonably cold out for May weather. With my iPod hooked to me on full blast and a hoodie on, I got my hands dirty as I pored through the past that I have been dragging around with me since the age of 15. Soon the hoodie came off, as I was sweating, and soon I was drowning in a sea of memories.

I used to have quite a prowess for documenting every last second of my life. I have over 10 journals as proof. I found them. I started on the ones where I was 14 and falling in love, but got bored of what an idiot I was and moved over to the later years.

As I started reading, I realized there were far to many nuances from my past of over 10 years ago that were mirroring my current state. It's slightly disturbing. How can one person continue to bitch about something yet think they are making changes only to look back and realize that they are still standing in that same pile of quicksand that they had been previously stuck in? How did I manage to trick myself into thinking that I had gotten out? I don't know.

It's odd. I don't like when people throw quotes in my face. Because they are taking advantage of a profound thing that another person said and trying to switch it up so that the quote applies to the situation at hand. I think that's cocky. That's reading something into words that a person said and then assuming that they meant something by it according to the current state of affairs that you are trying to apply them to. Feels dirty.

But what if you quote yourself?

I found this entry tonight dated 03/27/01: GOD I AM OLD. No that was not the entry.

It was:

It's moments like these that make me step back and look at my life as a whole and appreciate it through and through. I wish I could remember those moments with a distinct sense of clarity while taking into account that I just need to appreciate them for what they are. They are just moments. I don't need to cling to them. I don't need to crave them and lust for them. I need to remember to enjoy the ride and stop flashing back on them wishing that I were there right now rather than at work, sitting in front of the t.v., napping on the couch.

Yup. I officially realized tonight that I am an over-analyzer. More so in the sense of nostalgia though.

And to top it off. I haven't changed. I suppose that should be slightly depressing, but in all honesty, it's more embarrassing than anything.

Anyway, 30 Songs in 30 Days.


* Day 07 – A song that reminds you of a certain event----Huey Lewis

My friend summed it up best when she said that when she was little she had herself convinced that Huey Lewis was her cool uncle. It's true. He's been there for me through the bad haircuts, the happy moments, the breakups, hanging out at breakfast, making up dance moves to his album Sports, reappearing for American Psycho, and not too long ago on a warm spring day, I didn't even care if this was the dorkiest thing ever, I BLASTED Sports while I drove around with my windows down. I will always have a special place in my heart for Uncle Huey.

He reminds me of damn near every event in my life. He's my little musical family member. My cool uncle who gave me noogies and a hug.

Cool Dude. Dude Cool.

I have an admission. A confession. A cadmission? When I was little and living in the flat grassy country lands of BF Tinytown Iowa, my four brothers and I had nothing but time on our hands and not enough bills to pay yet. We would play all day, creating forts out of the farmer's haystack next door, and ride the horses that belonged to someone else to the field adjacent to us. When it got hot out, my brothers would tear off their shirts and run around. I followed suit.

One day, my mom told me I couldn't do that any longer. I was so confused. Why not? My brothers got to. And so born was my longing to be dude cool. Luckily I got this sweet John Cougar shirt in the mail today to keep me clothed and off of any Girls Gone Wild videos.

I was always a tomboy. I can't tell you why. It may have been all the brothers being my main source of company for the first vital parts of my years. Maybe it was because when I was playing with my friend and tromping through mud puddles and when I eagerly asked her to join in, she looked disgusted and shook her head no, saying she would get in trouble by her mom if she came home dirty. I never got in trouble for being dirty. My parents encouraged me to play sports. (I suck at all sports but track for the record.)

I remember coming home complaining to my dad about a boy that used to pick on me all the time, and he said "Well punch him!" That's because if you were a girl, you could get away with punching a boy. If they punched you back, then they punched a girl. If you punched them, then they were a sissy for getting beat up by a girl.

I matured really slowly when it came to liking boys. I wanted to play GI Joe with them. I wanted to pinch them, and punch them and call them the names they called each other. I was never on level with the girls who couldn't write all over themselves with pen and who wanted to quietly play Barbie whips up Ken a sweet meal. (Ken's gay, Barbie.)

So many times in childhood and in adult life even, the way I act has gotten all misconstrued too. When buddying up with a buddy, buddies or buddy's friends assume that I have a crush on him. Sometimes it's met with a friend saying, "Not true, she's just nice like that, or whatever. Or when I was in the 4th grade and someone asked me if I had a crush on the boy that sat in front of me because I was always poking him and giggling about things, I got overly defensive on stating my wish to just go catch frogs with him.

The first time I even kissed a boy, it was because I was surrounded by people egging it on. Wow, that was romantic.

When I really learned to kiss though, I definitely couldn't stop. But that's where things even got more turned around and my Dude Cool longing kicked into high gear. I learned the hard way that you couldn't just make out with a guy and then turn around the next week and make out with another person. Okay, I never officially learned my lesson on that one, I just had more questions.

Why could guys do that but if girls did, suddenly they were called all these names and labeled as something terrible? Why couldn't I kiss someone and then contact them the next day just to hang out with no expectations?

Trust me, I have had plenty of cad guy friends, and to be honest with you, I don't care. It's endearing.

Yes, I was one of those idiots who always tried to stay friends with my ex, or a hookup because come on I still want your high-fives and stories about the time you shit your pants!

And I know chicks can be crazy when it comes to situations with guys. Trust me. But it's still not fair, and it still gets blown out of proportion. I swear 99.9% of the time that I have done something so-called "crazy" it has to be the male's fault because their perception on my actions is completely skewed. That's the thing, I am fine with just the old hangout afterward. I hate awkwardness and butthurtedness. So if I come off as overbearing, it's because damnit let's be friends!

As I got into the pubescent years, it became even more apparent that the female persuasion was just not for me. Women elevator eye you. If you are a girl, you know what I am talking about. The ol' sizing you up from feet to head. They think you don't notice it, but you do. Plus I have had girlfriends freak out on me for the STUPIDEST things. Guys never had periods or jealousy to blame anything on. If you got in a fight, it was about food or because I pinched you too hard, and then all was forgiven without even having to say a word.

I like to belch really loud, because if I have to, I have to. I like talking about poop, because I poop. I love a good dirty joke, and I have the mouth of a sailor. My dad said I am a version of him out to sea. It's so true. I kind of think like a man. Every single time I have written anything fiction, the main character is a man. I can't get into the brain of a female to write a full story or book about her. I mean look at all the shit Hunter S. Thompson did. Could a female have done that without being labeled just some crazy bitch? Odds are probably not.

When I look at the dynamic of men with each other, it's like the world is their locker room and I wanted to badly to be in that locker room with them. If I talked to a girl the way men talk to each other, it was met with horror. I have been hated by oh so many girlfriends of guy friends because they assumed we were flirting, when in all actuality, no, him telling me he was going to shove that ketchup bottle up my ass if I didn't knock it off was not a form of foreplay, that was me having a taste of being dude cool.

So I thought I found my niche. But you never really do in these kinds of situations. It seemed like whenever I was with the guys it's like my vagina was hanging out or something. I couldn't just start mooning everyone without being treated differently.

Plus, I reached a point of where I had to admit that I am still female. I wanted someone to talk about my makeup and clothes with. Someone to let me be just a little but of a crazy bitch when I needed to be, and someone who could empathize with fluctuating hormones. Someone to explain to me why a male was making me crazy because they were thinking it was crazy that I just honestly like making and keeping my guy friends and that I must have some crazy ulterior motive up my sleeve.

So in my older years, I have been very picky about the females I surround myself with, and the ones I do surround myself with are the ones that are just like me. We are the little female outcasts that have the luxury of peeing outside when we get drunk, burping in each others faces, and calling each other names and LAUGHING about it. We compliment each other and don't act like a bunch of jealous whores around each other.

Even as an adult, I GUESS I can get it at times, when I meet an awesome person and I want their number, or if I get drunk and start chest bumping them or leg humping them or hugging them, I can see where the confusion may set in.

And I don't want that confusion, but part of me still wants to pretend there is a banana in my pants. (Just kidding I don't want a penis)

I would like to hang out with guys that are legitimately my friends and if they happen to be in a band not to be ribbed by strangers about being a groupie, I want to wear tight as hell black pants with shiny shoes and not be given shit if I didn't shower that day, I want to shove someone with my elbow playfully without them thinking I am flirting. I want to be in a room full of guys and have one of them not pause and look at me suspiciously when they start to tell a tale of hooking up with a girl like I am going to go all Sex in the City on them and divulge all about their secret life of debauchery. I don't want to take my shirt off and run around in the backyard anymore though.

It's all ebb and flow though. I will get those few precious moments when it happens, and when it does it feels wonderful. And when I am with my other dude cool female friends, it's even that much better.

Oh yeah. This is also 30 Songs in 30 Days:


* Day 06 – A song that reminds you of somewhere

Strange Currencies by REM. What a gorgeous song. Lyrically and musically. It's so wistful when I hear it now. It reminds me of somewhere in my mind. And that's youth, longing, loving, wanting to be loved back and just wanting someone to just fucking open up and say it already to you rather than be so ambivalent about it all. Before Katy Perry and her stupid Hot and Cold song, this my friends, is the OG Hot and Cold.

http://listen.grooveshark.com/s/Strange+Currencies/xjPeZ?src=5

Who's the Boss?

This rock t-shirt summer is going to be pregnant with epicness. I got a trigger finger that cannot be stopped. When that car payment can't be made, or the house gets repossessed, I will just make me a giant quilted tent out of all the Rock Ts I have purchased and I shall live in that.

I have officially cut myself off until I am actually bringing in decent income (until I pretend that I am and start mindlessly bidding on shit at 2 a.m. is what that that means) but it did end on a high note.

Everyone needs something Bruce Springsteen in their lives. Whether it be a pin, or shirt, or some albums with pins and shirts attached to them, he is pretty much a rock-n-roll icon. He's rugged and dreamy. He had Courtney Cox in one of his videos! Ben Stiller did many parodies on him when he had The Ben Stiller show in the 90s!!! Remember the 90s?!?!

The guy wrote Born in the USA, and the best part is all these dipshit people in political office want to use it as an anthem of sorts, when the song isn't about that. It's about the effects of the Vietnam war on Vets.

Reminds me of the time that Palin/McCain wanted to use Pink Houses for their campaign my Mellencamp. Yeah, Cougar contacted them and was like, "Uh what?" Rawr.

But that's my rock-n-roll T of the day, and my song of the day for 30 Songs in 30 Days is:

* Day 05 – A song that reminds you of someone


It's so hard to pick one song for these things. So I just kind of go with the first thing that pops in my head.

Kings of Leon have been kind of a long running joke when I find someone that likes them. It goes like this: "Oh sweet, they have two fans now.

Because even though they seem to be able to successfully sell concert tickets for 40+dollars and we've seen their Sex on Fire plastered all over MTV more times than we actually would want to count, (that one kind of does sound like a VD commercial jingle) I consistently run into others that, not dislike, but LOATHE them. They basically Creed hate them. You know what I mean by that.

I had a really talented friend that opened for them one time when they played here, and though I thought the show was pretty awesome aside from all the popped collars there (OH MY GOD JOCKS LOVE THEM THAT'S WHY I KNOW NOBODY THAT LOVES THEM) and maybe it was the half bottle of rum I had ingested, but when I met up with friend at the end of the show, he told me that they were a bunch of pompous assholes who used like 500 cans of hairspray in the dressing room and then got far too drunk to even play a proper show.

I really try to separate myself from bands when I hear stories like that. I tell myself it's all right, because I'm not really there to befriend them, I just want to enjoy my music and go home. I don't condone other bands being assholes to friends opening for them of course, I just again, try to separate myself from the assholery that musicians are so prone to possessing.

Now that we've established it's Kings of Leon.


I lost my Grandma, this is terrible I don't know the exact amount of years ago, but it was September 15th, I believe five years ago. She played a really important albeit strange role in my life.

Growing up in Iowa, a lot of our summers were spent coming out to Utah to visit Grandma and cousins. Grandma came out to visit us once or twice on our little farm/notfarm. She was VERY and I mean VERY proper. I was helping her do dishes one time and I remember I put the dishtowel between my legs to grab something really quick and she told me that ladies don't do that. That paired with having 4 brothers growing up, no wonder I turned out to be such a filthy little girl who thinks she's a boy.

One of my most shocking memories of Grandma was while she was visiting in Iowa was her getting really angry about something and I heard her curse. "WHAT IN SAM HELL!!!??" She said. Amazing how we can never quite remember why someone got mad, but we can remember their reaction when angry. (Dad, I was listening to Back in Black by AC/DC when you threw my door open and kicked my CD player across the room what were you mad about again?)

Anyway, I was beyond shocked. MY GRANDMA SWORE? Never! She was still living in the 1800s, did people even swear in the 1800s unless they lived in the land of Deadwood? I finally gutted up and told (tattled) to my mom about it, and my mom informed me that she was using and old expression "What in Sam Hill"

I also found out that my shopping problem and love of all things clothing is not my fault. Turns out I am genetically predisposed to want all these sweet unique and beautiful pieces of clothing in which I want to adorn myself with out there. My grandma was a snazzy dresser.She was classy about it and had great taste in the items she picked out.

When I got uprooted from Iowa and moved out here to Utah, and my parents were super pissed at me because I was 15 and all I wanted to do was drink, smoke, and swear, my grandma still took me school shopping. I even have a sweet photo of the shirt I picked out for my first day of school in Utah. I was in complete and utter 1995 with it.



There are pages and pages and stories stacked on top of stories that I could fill you with about my grandma, her house, her weeping willow tree, summers in Utah, Cottonwood Mall, the clothes she made me,the cookies she baked, the smell of Tide wafting from the laundry room, but I am sure you don't have all night, and well, I do probably because I feel like shit and will be awake for another 3-4 hours.

Toward mid-adulthood, my grandma didn't care for me that much. I was shacking up with dudes while not being married, dying my hair pink and purple, working in bars where they served ALCOHOL, and sin of all sins, I worked at eBay. I remember now with so much fondness her telling me how stupid that company was, and who would want to sit around all day buying a bunch of other people's junk?

I said "Grandma, when I was unemployed, I made a ton of money selling on eBay, it got me through my unemployment."

She yelled, "A TON of money? You made a TON of money? I highly doubt that!!!"

She really thought the Internet was the devil, and for that, I love love her.

Toward the end there, she just got old. It was hard for my parents. They spent a lot of time taking care of her. She got a little bit nutty. She got a lot of panic attacks. She couldn't do stuff on her own, and for a very independent woman, that was difficult for her to come to terms with. At times, she was difficult to deal with. She would, out of frustration, confusion, and getting to the end of her life, be pretty cranky. She would yell at my parents and they would get sad because they were spending so much of their time with her and doing everything they could.

Eventually she did need to get placed in a home when it was getting pretty apparent that people couldn't be there for her 24/7. She was livid. I took it upon myself to start paying her frequent visits. She took it upon herself to start only liking me. What a strange ironic gift. She was never fond of my hair or my lifestyle.

One day while visiting her, some people from her church came over, and she kind of brushed aside some gifts they brought for her, and complained of everyone around her, and then said, "This is my granddaughter. Isn't she just the most beautiful thing you have ever seen? Don't you just love her hair?" as she ran her hands through my hair. I was glad that crazy Grandma decided she loved me, even if sane one wasn't too fond of me at times.

I was out of town when she passed away. I took it hard. I got back and got ready for the funeral, and I HATE funerals. I hate them so much. I mean I don't know anyone that loves them, but I am ultra-sensitive when it comes to death.

I still try to trot around in this fantasy world that we don't die.

But we do. And it happened. And I was driving down the road to go to her funeral when King of the Rodeo by Kings of Leon came on. And Kings of Leon reminds me of my best friend Victoria too. We both listened to this album so much, and she is that 2nd fan of theirs. It makes me think of all the fun but crazy weirdness that we were experiencing at the time as single people.

So that song was such an upbeat number for me. And I started to giggle at the irony while in my car, and then I burst into a blubbering pile of I wonder if I am going to crash my car from crying so hard. I was singing to it while bawling and simultaneously laughing at the situation.

Because this was the only thing that made me not completely lose it; thinking about all the good times with my best friend while listening to this song. I can't even tell you to this day what that song is about. As a matter of fact, I can't understand what the hell he's saying half the time.

But now when I hear it, I think about both life and death.

Believe it or not, this is my first time seeing the video!

30 Dongs...Er Songs in 30 Days

I have decided to do the 30 Songs in 30 Days post that I have seen floating around. Some of them seem a bit redundant, and some seem a bit subjective for the period of my life that I was in when being axed the question, so this could change on a day to day basis, what the hell. WHAT THE HELL?

Day 1. My favorite song.

I have had many favorite songs in lifetime. But I am going to pick one of my favorite songs and hand over two versions of it.

I choose you Do Ya, by ELO. ELO has been one of my all time favorite bands as far back as I can remember. Nobody, and I mean nobody has walked this earth that can compete with them in my opinion. Everything was done with such orchestrated perfection and Jeff Lynne has sweet hair.

I curse the fact that I am too young (still olde though I promise) to have never seen them play. I even set up ELO Play One More Show! On Facebook. Well, it didn't take off, but I still have hope.

Nuff said. I am usually not "that guy" but I kind of have a tendency to judge whether or not I want to be friends with someone based on how they feel about ELO.

Do Ya is probably one of the most beautiful love/lust songs I have ever heard. It doesn't say, "Do ya do ya wanna hump," or "Do ya do ya want to bone." It's Lynne listing off all of the things that he has seen and heard in his lifetime thus far in this world; things beautiful and things sad that have touched his heart in a certain way and stirred him emotionally. As he goes through his checklist, he ends it each time with, "But I've never seen/heard nothing like you.

Be still my aching loins if someone were to say that to me!

When he says, "Do ya do ya want my love...WOMAN" They way that he says woman is so pronounced, manly and forcible, like the question needs to be answered know. After that spiel, drag me by my hair into your cave buddy!

Let us not forget that the song just plain fucking rocks balls.

Without further aDoya:



For those of you who don't know this, Jeff Lynne was in a band called The Move prELO. This song was originally done by The Move, and it's kind of like the whole tomato-tomahto thing, but I am a bit more partial to the Move's version due to the fact that who the hell can resist cowbell all up in your face?? If you can then you are deaf to the siren song of rock.

Here's the OG version:



I spent years looking for the perfect vintage ELO T-Shirt. People kept either outbidding me or it just wasn't the style and fit for me. A week ago, fate and destiny collided with my body after I won an ELO shirt that knew one day it would need to meet and marry me.

I think I wore it four days in row before I came to terms with the fact that it was not going to meld itself to my body. Regardless, the fit, material, print, was the closest I will ever get to touching the hand of God.

Next Holy Grail purchase? A vintage Hall & Oates shirt.

Rock T Diaries

No, not rock tit. However that does have a tendency to happen if you don't wear a bra and walk down the refrigerated aisle at your local grocery store.

Or if it's a hot summer day, you are wearing a halter top that doesn't support bras, and your bring your chihuahua into Petsmart to get his nails trimmed and he misbehaves so badly that one of the ladies asks you to hold him while she attempts to trim his nails and you do and he gets that "going to his rape place" look in his eyes, and starts pawing at your halter until you flash all five people working behind the counter. True story.

But I digress. Rock T Summer started last year when I started the hunt for the latest and greatest t-shirts that I could acquire sporting a favorite band. I am big into the vintage originals, so it can be quite the hunt. At times in the past, I haven't pulled the trigger for years until the perfect one manifests itself before my very eyes.

So here I shall start posting all of my favorite finds.

We begin with Eazy-E. Straight Out of Compton was one of my favorite N.W.A. albums to listen to when I was in high school. Well, skipping classes in high school that is. Yet, I could never find a girl shirt that had my man Eazy on it.

One day while at my local mall, I found a screen printing kiosk, and asked them if I went to get a tank top, if they would print him on there for me. They went for it, I went to Mervyn's (now defunct right) came back and had this beauty made. It was about 10 years ago, but I have held tight to it ever since. It has since cracked and faded, but I guess now we can consider it vintage right?