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.

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!

Emphasis on the BLOW

All right! Song number two for 30 Songs in 30 Days!

This one is going to be convenient for my current state of negativity. I think my immune system ruptured a pipe a day or so ago, so now on top of impending doom, I have current doom of some sort of other sickness. Blah. Or as Dracula would say, "Blehhh!"

Day 02 – Your least favorite song

Well there are a lot of songs I loathe out there. Just turn on the radio and I can pick out probably every single one playing right now. I chose this song though because of the fact that it's one of those double-edged swords.

I will be mindlessly wandering the aisles of TJ Maxx like some sort of bargain zombie when it comes on and the song sucks so bad, the artist is atrocious, yet it brings back a treasured gawky youth memory. So that in turn makes me think, "Awesome, the one thing that brings back a treasured overly hormonal pleasant memory is this bag full of pure yuck."

Just my luck right?

When I was 15 I got a huge crush. Sound familiar? I mean I turned into a bumbling fidgety melty mouthed dolt around this person. It was the olden days before your Internets and your cellular phones and your sexting that all you kids are into these days, and it was in Iowa circa 1995 small town style. That was the grunge explosion. Try being into that when everyone else just wants a good pair of Girbauds and to see how high they can get their bangs to look so that they'll match their collared polo shirts.

I loved Radiohead. Yeah, before their Ok Computers and weird electronic bleeps and blips. It was their Pablo Honey straight out of the 90s grunge rock, honeys.

I remember I purchased a ginormous Pablo Honey shirt only to be questioned by my peers, "What's a Radiohead?" and giving them my best, "You just wouldn't get it." Gen-X face.

But then as I was walking down the hallway, this person pointed to it and said, "I like your shirt." I looked up at him and I am pretty sure made some braying donkey noises and that is where my crush began.

He of course was older than me by three years, and when you are 15, that may as well be three million years. Once you reach your late 20s we are all basically the same age.

But anyhow. He was the Jordan Catalano to my Angela Chase. A series of awkward events were surely to follow, such as not feeling well and sneaking off to smoke behind the library one day during school and him being back there.

"Do you want to hear what I wrote on my guitar?" he asked.

This was also back when hell yes I wanted to hear what you wrote on your guitar because playing guitar is the cooolest! Now Anyone Can Play Guitar, and I don't give a shit when they tell me that unless they aren't a total boner.

So he plays this really pretty song, I don't remember what it was. I was beautiful in my head so that's all that matters, and all the while, I am a bit nauseous from not feeling well earlier that day and as he winds up the song, I look him in the eyes, and I say the most romantic thing a girl could ever say to a boy she thinks she is in love with:

"I think I'm going to puke."

We got married and had 7 kids after that. No we didn't.

I was never big into dances. Or anything school related for that matter. That's not something Kurt Cobain would have done. But my friends and I decided to attend some spring dance. I don't know why. I don't even remember really any specific details on it, this seems like eons ago.

All I remember was Hootie & The Blowfish, "Hold My Hand" coming on and my CRUSH coming up to ask me if I wanted to dance to it. I am sure my heart beat out of my chest the whole time I awkwardly stood there trying to figure out how one dances.

Trust me I am still trying to figure out how one dances.

So that was the peak of my Jr. High life. And I have Hootie & The Blowfish to thank for it. A band that seriously has one of the most poorly named titles ever and their music is just as cheesy and lyrically devoid of any human life. Every time their music comes on in these stores I am shopping at I am filled with I need to punch something from how bad they suck anger, to wistful thinking of my youthful days when everything was so new and exciting and full of prospect.

Do you see how that can confuse one's mind?

So here's it is my friends. I think I'm going to puke: