Things My Brain is Thinking about When No One is Looking – Part V

1) I don’t need a man, I need a handyman.  And they happen to be cheaper than a regular man. Added plus – you can find them on craigslist, and they won’t kill you.

2) According to HGTV’s ‘House Hunters,’ based on my savings, I can only own a home in the suburbs of the suburbs of Atlanta.  This is highly disappointing.

3) My leather chair, still new from Pottery Barn, is now in the shape of what I call ‘The Juxtaposition of Eileen.”  It’s my arse in leather, with a size 6 footprint in the ottoman.  I need to retire from my life of leisure. Help. Help. Help.

4) Bar Method, a trendy workout here in San Francisco, is by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done.  Tears have almost run down my eyes in pain, words have passed my lips that would make Mary Magdalene blush.  Please, I dare your gluteus maximus, gentleman,  I’ve never seen a grown man cry. Join me, and make a gal grin.

5) Owning a dog is hard.  Just borrowing a pup for one week showed me that I come second. But if you have floppy ears and like having your belly rubbed, you’re my people. I cancel dates, I dissolve engagements, I run home. To take out the wagging tail at my door. I’ve never seen someone so happy to see me.  Is this what relationships are like? HAHHAHAHAH….no.

6) Never sleep with your feet over the edge of the bed.  Dark is a precarious situation, you never know what will nibble on your toes.  I wake in a sweat every night, shocked I am not besieged by another kind.  If they do come, I think they will like my dvd collection.

7) After being happily unemployed for a few months, I do need to start selling stuff on ebay.  Like my body.

8) Sometimes, the best way to get someone’s attention is to stop giving them yours.  Put that in your pipe and smoke it.  Yeah, you. Yes, you.  I’m talking to you. Jesus. Really.

9) Zac Efron dancing at the end of the awful movie “New Year’s Eve” almost made it worth those painful two hours of my life watching it that I’ll never get back.  Almost. Fast-forward that shite and thank me.

10) Julia Child was 45 before she started cooking as a profession.  I’m going to be ok.  I could be amazing at 35.  Just you bitches wait.

Gratitude {Lately}

For dreaming and gentle snoring, in my usually very quiet home.

For laughter and teamwork and giant smiles

For creative minds that don’t think alike… at the Writing Salon

 For my view the last few days

For friends, enormous hats and friends wearing enormous hats

…and the best view a girl could ask for.

Boston Strong

I like to see a man proud of the place in which he lives. I like to see a man live so that his place will be proud of him. ~Abraham Lincoln

Self-sabotage is boring.

I’ve never been a gray person.  I’m a firm believer in the black and white.  You are or you aren’t.  You do or you don’t.  You can or can’t. You should or shouldn’t.  It’s about having a spine. Knowing who you are.  Making a damn decision.

I’ve always thrown myself into everything once I’ve made the choice to be a part of it.  I’m not saying it’s the right way to go about life.  Sometimes it has served me, and sometimes it hasn’t.  But it’s the only way I know how to truly live. There have been plenty that don’t get it.  They like gray, from cool to charcoal.

To better explain: I don’t watch one episode of Dexter, I stay up until 4am to finish the season I’ve pirated on my laptop. I don’t buy a coffee table, I paint my walls and retile the floors.  I don’t write a blog entry, I write a screenplay. I don’t go to the store for milk, I have to rent a car and buy enough chicken cutlets for a small army. I can’t go for a jog, I must train for a marathon.

Unfortunately the same goes for things that are bad for me.  I don’t eat a handful a chips, I eat the entire bag of Lay’s Sour Cream & Onion.  For no one can eat just one, right?

While I wouldn’t know how to live my life in any other way, with it comes a kind of imprisonment. Without participating in the entire shebang, there is discontentment.  Giving up the unhappiness would mean to throw my ego into the gutter, to completely let go. This prison of incompletion, while safe, makes me fear constantly that I will not be deemed a success, by my own or anyone else’s standards. While the mantra “Patience, patience” enters my thoughts, I simultaneously pray, “Let’s get on with it already.” Many can’t deal with a process like this, as expressing your creativity and your calling has incredible mountains and valleys.  Some deem it easier to steal things a better man has built.

Mostly, I am scared when I cannot find the motivation to create.  I doubt my own ability to do something worthwhile  – something worth looking at, reading, studying, exploring, being immensely proud of. It’s a vicious circle of ego and fear, self-love and loathing.

I do know this: I need to be creating, in whatever form.  It is more than a form of expression, it is a need, like breathing, eating, or drinking Spottswoode Cabernet. I want to create, but I don’t know the best way to do so. I suppose there is not a best way, there is just a way. So I’m asking you, and the Universe for help, and good wishes.  I’m a firm believer in the power of the mind. You send me yours, I’ll send you mine.

Creative people are not happy unless they are being creative.  I can vouch for that.  So while I sit here going the corporate route, I silently hope frequently that I never hear back from my inquiries.

I read this today and it made my heart beat fast and tears well in my eyes:

Creative people appear on this earth and they don’t ask to be creative but they are driven to be creative and they are not happy unless they are being creative. They aren’t happy unless they are making things or discussing making things or putting things they made in the mail or painting the things they made or selling the things they made. That’s why people live in lofts and join caravans because the only time they feel alive is when they are drenched in the colors of their being. In a loft with buckets of paint. In a studio with instruments and knobs. On the road. In an attic room with a view of the river. Barefoot in a stranger’s bed. Waiting for a train on a vast prairie. You will only be happy when your mysterious need to create is being serviced, addressed.

I suppose the first part is getting past the ego.  Not only putting it to bed, but crucifying it. I don’t need my creativity to make me wealthy, I need it to fill my soul. Maybe I won’t find it fully in a day, or months, or years. Maybe that’s the point of living a lifetime.

Today can be a demarcation from the self-sabotage, if I choose it to be.  Self-sabotage is getting boring.  Instead I choose to watch the entire second season of Game of Thrones, and read a book form cover to cover.  I shall see the sun rise.

Road Trip Round-Up – Best Quotes, Song Lyrics, and Signs

Best quotes

Elizabeth: “Our carriage driver looks like Gavin Degraw.”

 

Eileen: “I got dipped. By an old man.”

 

Eileen: “If you’re going to sit across from us, you’re going to have to talk about something more interesting than that.” (I get obnoxious when I drink Bud Light)

 

Elizabeth: “Remember when you had that guy in a headlock? He was shell-shocked.” (why do I always put guy in headlocks?  No wonder I’m single…

 

“Such a nice couple.” (about Elizabeth and me)

 

Elizabeth: “How does wine taste like the seaaa???” (after reading a description of a bottle of white – and it did taste like the sea…)

 

Eileen:”I can’t believe how good these ribs are.”

Elizabeth: “I can’t believe how good my life is.”

 

Eileen:”When it’s a three napkin dinner you know it’s a good one.”

Elizabeth:”Except it’s lunch.”

 

Elizabeth”It’s just a flesh wound.” (Meanwhile, I fell off a patio and into a rose bush, while salvaging my Mac above my head)

 

Elizabeth:”I will put the bayou-whopping on you.”

 

Eileen: “I’m concerned that my feet no longer fit into my shoes.” (I gained at least 10 lbs on this trip, so much that my shoes stopped fitting).

 

Eileen: “Why do I have to eat until I’m in physical pain?” (see above)

 

Ed: “I did the right fucking thing, which I never do.”

 

Ed: “She has a questionable prescription drug problem.” (describing an ex)

 

Eileen: “Are we going to see the vaginas now? (talking about a Georgia O’Keefe exhibit)

Eilizabeth: “Well, we don’t have to.”

Eileen: “No, I really want to.”

 

Woman at The Ventian: “The canal with the gondolas is on the 2nd floor.”

Elizabeth: “Oh, of course it is…”

 

Eileen: “I’m actually really sore from yoga.”

Elizabeth:: “You know what’s good for that?”

Eileen: “Oooh what?!”

Elizabeth:”Cocktails.”

 

Best Country Song lyrics heard while driving:

Here’s a quarter for someone who cares.

Tequila makes her clothes fall off.

If you think the life I love is too country, truck yeah.

She loves me like Jesus does.

Honky Tonk heroes like me…

Living down in Waco made a wacko out if me.

She’s 10 pounds of sugar in a 5 pound sack.

She cranks my tractor.

You got a taste like honey, and I got a little beer money.

Girl, you make my speakers go boom, boom.

Hide, your crazy, and start acting like a lady.

I can’t believe how much it turns me on to be your man.

Best Signs Seen

Yee-haw for Yahweh (outside a Baptist Church)

BBQ Awaits.  39 Miles. (billboard outside Houston)

Keep Your Laws off My Guns. (on a truck’s bumper sticker in TX)

New Orleans and Austin – aka “the game is to survive”

New Orleans

Thank you, Hotel Monteleone, the most classic in New Orleans, for the pristine quarters that made us feel like royalty.   Sometimes good things do happen to good people.  Or those who just take risks on Priceline, and end up getting a 4-star hotel for a fraction of the price.

Far and away, New Orleans had been my favorite stop so far, with the exception of that dump called Bourbon Street.  I loved the history, the haunted stories, the bars, the ghost tour… Did you know that we used to hang people in Jackson Square, right in front of a church?  And not only did we hang them, but the origination of that magic trick of “put the person in the coffin and cut them in half” actually started in New Orleans when it wasn’t a magic trick.  They would keep people alive, put them in coffins, cut them in half, and then enjoy the moment when the victim realized they were lying next to their own legs.  Got to love entertainment before cable.

Needless to say, there was no shortage of drinking surrounding us in New Orleans.  We did all of the must-dos: the hurricane at Pat O’Briens, Alafayatcha in the Garden District for the bloody mary bar, dinner at Herbsaint (the waitress definitely thought we were on a date), drinks at Carousel Bar, benignets at Café du Monde and all too many hilarious encounters with strangers to count.

When we didn’t have a beverage in hand, we rode the St. Charles trolley, saw the Calypso Tumblers in their famous street performance, visited some cemeteries, went on my very first carriage ride (does a mule count?), learned so much – the difference in single shotgun vs double shotgun architecture, that it’s actually the backs of the houses that you see on the street, with a courtyard and front door in the center, and not visible from the street. We visited the Lower Ninth where most of the Katrina devastation took place, and is in a state of rebuilding, courtesy of Brad Pitt’s Make It Right Foundation.  The weekend was very humbling, haunting, and hilarious, sometimes all at the same time.

From there we made a stop in Baton Rouge, hit up Houston to see some of E’s friends, and saw a lot of this along the way, just in case you forget about Jesus while you’re driving:

Austin

Let’s begin at The Salt Lick, a very famous BBQ joint that was a must on our list. They also happen to do weddings, and I’m not kidding, there may be one of mine there in the future.  Maybe my second wedding.

We ate mostly in silence, in awe of our combo platters of brisket, ribs, and sausage.

Eileen: When it’s a three napkin dinner, you know it’s a good one.

Elizabeth: Yeah, except it’s lunch.

Austin is exactly what I hoped it would be.  I always had a special fascination with it, and I was not disappointed.  We stayed in a lovely guesthome, and had our hosts’  black lab, Lyla, as our adopted pet. She enjoyed her walks and all of the ear scratches.

Not all was hunky-dory, though.  In all of my poise and decorum, I managed to fall off a patio and land in a rosebush – but I managed to not break my computer, just my pride.  I had to ice my shin with the only thing available, frozen pigs in a blanket and was met with no sympathy from Elizabeth “It’s just a flesh wound” Singleton.

Everyone kept apologizing for the rain, but I loved the late night thunderstorm, and every place we visited.  I saw a new friend for some wine, and an old friend who scored us SXSW badges, which are about $950 each, allowing us to the front of the line and access to all events and parties.  He showed us his favorite haunts and treated us like queens. Which continues to beg the question, “Why do I have to eat until I’m in physical pain?”

One of the highlights was the rodeo.  I had never been to one, and as an avid equestrian, I appreciate the symbiotic relationship between horse and rider.  I still have some bronco riding concerns, but all in all, it was amazing to see the speed and effortless of the cowboys and girls.

To alleviate some of the sodium poundage, I ran the Greenbelt, walked the University of Texas (Hook ‘em, Horns!), which then only led us to more food, drinks, and live honky-tonk music. From  Magnolia’s Café to Uchiko, a famous Japanese restaurant with the most incredible jalapeno yellowtail, we were never far from deliciousness. Only in Austin can you do “Japanese farmhouse” dining

To sum it up:

Eileen: I can’t believe how good this food is.

Elizabeth: I can’t believe how good my life is.

Bluebird, Graceland, and Bama country…

Nashville

Nashville was not at all what I expected.  Never having heard the term Nash Vegas, I was taken aback by the strip.  But it soon turned into the fun night as we started off  manhandling the hot chicken at Hattie B’s, where the hottest order is known as “Shut the Cluck Up.”  Then onto The Stage to soothe our scalding tongues with heers, an interesting array of ages and bachelorette parties.  Then to Tootsie’s, where a bachelorette party was grinding with the Tim McGraw look-alike singer.  Then onto Robert’s Western World, with its platinum records hanging on the walls and enigmatic bathroom lines.  After the long drive to Nashville, I was not my normal jovial self (aka The Funnest Person Ever), and Elizabeth said:

“You’re here. (raising her hand to waist high).  I need you to be here,” (raising it above her head).  I complied.

The next day, I tasted what I had assumed all of Nashville to be like – a man, a microphone, an acoustic guitar. We started off by trying to get into The Bluebird Café.  After 45 minutes on line in less than 45 degree weather, we bailed and ended up at the Station Inn for some live bluegrass.

We tried The Bluebird the next night, Monday night, for open mic night, and were successful in our endeavor.  There are a lot of broken hearts in Nashville. But being huge fans of the “Nashville” on ABC we were excited to be in yet another place that was a setting for the show.   A friend in Nashville, Lele, then took me to San Antonio Taco (holy quizo dip!), and then out to Winner’s, for a 22oz PBR. The fancy cocktails at Patterson House closed our evening, and I learned quickly that I don’t like drinks with bitters.  This new revelation didn’t stop me from finishing it.

We went to the Ryman, the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum, and when I got a call from the unemployment office, Elizabeth dove into Legend’s Bar, as I took the call outside:

“What is the reason for your unemployment?”

“My boss was an assclown.”

“I didn’t quite hear you.”

“They closed down my department and I was not a good fit for my new position. Yeah, that’s it Sure.”

I’m so glad that call came when it did because our spontaneous stop at Legends allowed us to see some real talent, right off the street.  These people, kids really, walk around with a guitar strapped to their backs and just dive into places and play.

Memphis

Ah, Memphis.  What shall I say about thee?.  I’m in a good mood so I’ll be nice, and won’t mention that you should have been the location for “The Last Exorcism.” Instead I will mention the fun stuff we saw: Graceland (why do we have to take a bus across the street, it’s RIGHT THERE!”) as we’re surrounded by old people with walkers), Beale Street, live blues, and Rendezvous BBQ.  We got a tour of the smoke pits which dry rubs 8,000 pounds of ribs a WEEK.  My favorite was Sun Recording Studio tour.  To hear the voices of the Million Dollar Quartet – Elvis, Carl Jenkins, Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Cash – all together, that was really something.  The place had soul.

Alabama

Not being a great sleeper, I did at one point shut my eyes, as we drove through to Birmingham, AL.  I felt us taken slow, awkward turns and opened my eyes to see Elizabeth trying to disguise her face of terror as we were about to run out of gas.  In , Alabama.  We managed to roll into a gas station in silent prayer.  A man came out and said, “I can tell from your tags that you’re not from around here.”  I hoped that wasn’t the only thing that gave it away, but I kept that to myself, and went inside to pay.  I stopped in shock as I saw four deer heads mounted on the wall – not your normal mart.  Then I saw an entire family sitting in the back staring at me, all on recliners.  I really needed to go to the bathroom, but I felt as though the only one would be available in their home, and had I just walked into their living room?  Needless to say, I paid the $62 (gosh darn $4.00 a gallon), and the last thing we heard was:

“Y’all be careful now.”

I peeled out, and we drove in silence, until Elizabeth said:  “WHY????  Careful of what, what’s going to happen???” as we drove past cemetery after cemetery, which obviously housed the bodies of those that had stopped for gas in Bexar, Alabama.  We were thrilled to get to Birmingham and stay in the most beautiful home, with the coolest couple.  I almost laid down on the floor of my own private suite and cried into the carpet.

Roll Tide, Roll.

More tomorrow – New Orleans, and tales of what we do while driving.