Smell Ya Later

Apparently I am a dirty girl. As I prepped for beddy byes last night, the shirt I just so happened to pull out of my dresser drawer smelt like a raging campfire--a washer and dryer escapee, no doubt. Now I know you will probably judge the hell out of me when I tell you I wasn't disgusted, but quite the contrary, I was entirely thrilled. Instead of slipping that scented jersey into the laundry bin (where it probably belonged about 5 to 6 months ago) I slipped it over my head. My nostrils full of satisfaction, I crawled into bed-- happy as a camper and literally feeling like one. See, campfire is a smell I miss most throughout the long new england winters and I wasn't about to waste this tiny unexpected gift merely because my actions could (would) be considered grimy. I pulled my blanket (it has a big furry bear on it) up to my neck and began to drift.... having no idea my mind was gearing up for an all night new hampshire hiking trip. Oh boy.

Don't underestimate the power of smell and memory, they go together like tooth and tartar (and tuna tar tar or so says my stomach). My dreams were full of the past, specifically anything and everything that has happened in New Hampshire or Maine and involved campfires or pine needles in the past 24 years. My mind had a field day (forest night?).

Our sniffers are so heavily connected to our emotions that instantaneously we can travel to another place and time. I can remember back in middle school all the kiddies used to go to "teen night" on Friday, they'd host dances and random youth events. One night in particular I was dancing with a boy who smelled divine. This night was particular because the preceding Fridays I had sheepishly brought along the holy spirit, but not this Friday, the holy spirit was nowhere in sight. What took place wasn't even dancing...it was more like hugging and swaying. It was clear this boy had pre-gamed, aka: hit the cologne bottle like a champ. For me, that night was the closest a middle schooler ever gets to bringing a boy home with her--his heavenly scents- imbedded in my shirt (sigh). I'd put a wad of cash down that I wasn't dreaming of campfires that night. I bet almost every teen (adult...hey, I still do it) has cuddled up to cologne/perfume/pheromone induced shirt/s at some point in their life and I know if I ever get a whiff of that same brand today, it'd bring me plummeting into circa 1998.

I wanted to write about the smell of cooking and how it brings me incredible joy and contentment but I'm afraid a piece on food needs it's very own post, so I will save that savory topic for another day. ;)

I must say being a foodie and an outdoors(wo)man, I much appreciate the smells and where they let me revisit. Sometimes I walk outside and can smell a day I had years before. I close my eyes and can almost convince myself that when I open them, I'll be back re-living that obscure moment from my past.

Timing is EVERYTHING

There are days when every inch of your existence lines up perfectly with what you are trying to accomplish, even if you are not quite sure what that is. I must say, not to my dismay that today was one of those peculiar yet satisfying days.

On the contrary of perfectly timed days, a hefty handful of them it seems you happen to "just miss the boat" and usually by milliseconds which of course makes missing it, a thousand times worse. It is seeing it right in front of you, slowly chug-a-lugging away from the dock, too far to jump but close enough that you can smell its fumes that makes it so tough. Just out of reach. A taunting such as this surely instigates tantrums. A determined child mounting the kitchen counter, stretching his eager little hand onto the cabinets top shelf only to graze the toll house cookie bag with his finger tips. So close. The anticipation, the escalated feeling of want because of the proximity of the wanted; makes one drool like Pavlov's dog. I guess it would be most appropriate to quote, "Close is only good in horseshoes & hand-grenades"--two things I rarely come in contact with, half thankfully.

But let's get back to today...and perfect timing.

Early this morning my mom and I headed into Boston for the annual grab, in other words, my mom had a date with the boob doctor (mammogram city). Unlike most hospital visits, today we were in and out like a ground hog and scurrying over to Umberto's (in the North End) for a hot cheesy dream...mmm Sicilian pizza. The lines at Umbertos are usually down and around the street by 11:00AM, fortunately, our timing was perfect (hence the title: Timing is EVERYTHING) and we slid through the door at 10:53, steaming slice in hand at 10:54, bellissimo!

After our delicious encounter, things got extra sweet. Powerless, our tooth (the sweet one) dragged us into Modern Pastry and we were "forced" to decorate our noses with powdered sugar as we wolfed down cannolis and planned our trek to chinatown.

Chinatown housed a hidden gem. A 1 dollar dvd movie store was the X on our treasure map. However, before we reached the booty we came upon a tragic accident.

A boston public vehicle had hit a pedestrian. Only the crime scene remained.

Timing is everything? Morbid I know but painfully true. I can't help but wonder if this victim will survive and the thoughts she had when she awoke this morning all the way up until the incident. I'm almost positive amidst her stream of consciousness she never fathomed for a second that she would be in this life threatening predicament. But every single second of her life led her to this moment, moments as small as bumping into a stranger or stopping for a coffee, even pushing that snooze button one more time brought her to brutally rest on this city street pavement. Timing had to be perfect.

It's hard to understand that even writing this post (the time it takes, the thoughts it brings me to examine) will change the path laid out in front of me, and your path for taking the time to read it. Maybe you will start your own blog or pay more attention when crossing the street for the next week, or possibly crave pizza and cannolis therefore taking an unintended trip into boston. You never know. But we can't deny that it will effect both of us, however small.

My mom and I finally found the dvd store and made out like bandits. Feeling thrilled about our successful galavant and all the exciting movies we now had in our database, it was time to click the heels of our red shoes and head home.

Again, timing was perfect as we came around the corner of Tremont Street to hear bagpipes and people marching. The Veterans day parade was starting at our feet. We watched and listened to the music for a while and then something odd occurred. At the end of the parade there was an anti-war protest. We had just watched hundreds and hundreds of young-barely adults march in their uniforms signifying their contracts and now we had a large crowd peacefully objecting to war entirely. How ironic. I would pick peace over war 8 days out of the week and could have easily dropped my bag of dvd's and joined them. But, please don't mistake my stance as being ungrateful for everything we have fought for in the past for I am a patriot and love many aspects of our country. I'm just no fan of war. As I studied the uniformed faces complete their march and turn to watch these protestors, I saw unsure eyes. These soon to be war veterans seemed just as unenthusiastic as me, even a bit fearful. I saw unsure eyes, I saw eyes filled with humanity and it made me sad.

As we entered the station we made a quick decision to catch a train that got us almost to our destination, hoping we could call someone for a ride. We got lucky (timing is everything), we plopped down next to a nice girl from my high school (who I hadn't seen in about 6 years), within seconds of hearing our gamble she had offered us a ride to our car at the train station a town over. I am always warmed by the philanthropic heart of our population.

An obscure but somewhat wonderful day. Aside from a few thing of course (unfortunate pedestrian/saddened soldiers) but everyday has its poopsicles and popsicles, I suppose.

Which came first?

I'd be a chicken for Halloween but I'm scared. I'd be scared for Halloween but I'm chicken.

I'm trying hard to decide what on earth I should be for October 31st and a chicken seems like a delicious idea (licks lips).

There's a chicken in the kitchen so you better quit your bitchin'!

Hopefully people won't mistake me for sesame street's beloved big bird. That particular thought brings me to another, oscar the grouch. If I was Oscar the Grouch...would you put up a stink? Would you trash my appearance?

Imagine if everyday was Halloween...you'd never need an excuse to dress like a chicken or a slut. You could change wigs like you change panties. You could wear a vampire cape. You could sport outrageous pants. You could be Lady Gaga.

Treat your world like a play; be a different character each day.

It's already June

Side note: I've decided to leave the title "it's already June" because it furthers my point of intangible time. I wrote this post in JUNE, it is almost November. Gulp.

Here we are. We got "here" so fast. My here is wholly different than your here but regardless we are all striving to live "successfully" in our little here worlds. HERE HERE!! I placed "successfully" in quotations because let's face it, everyone seems to have a unique definition of success. Many of these definitions are sadly delusional, they have been ingrained since birth from the media or your peers. We fall into beliefs that often aren't deep down our own and sometimes without even realizing... we live other peoples lives.

I've been reflecting a lot on the last year (where did it go? It was June and now i'm finally posting this in Ocotber). Where does any of the time go? It seems we are always saying "Oh man, it's already June (or october)" or "I can't believe we've already hit summer (or fall/ winter--hence the snow that just came knockin' on our door rather early this past weekend)" or "Where did this year go". We just love commenting on the fast pace cycle of life. Around and around we go, it never stops and yet it will. It will end abruptly or maybe it will creep upon us like a winters chill (burrrrrrrr) allowing us to reflect on our achievements, regrets. Daily we struggle to plan, grasping at the idea of security. The hope of guarantee is a comforting thought. The hope that if you work really hard you will reap the benefits. The hope that if you love someone with all your heart that they will love you back just as much. The hope that if you make healthy mind and body decisions that you will remain disease free. The hope, the hope, the hope. The impossibility of guarantees is one big pile of depressing but I believe it can somewhat be overcome by living in this "here" moment and living the very best you know how. Don't put things off for later, later might never come.

Here we are and It's already October.

I awake each day with a new sunrise

I felt a strong urge to express my unconditional love for Brett Dennen in hopes that his music will also bring you the deep joy and reflection of existence, devotion, and self discovery. If I could only transform my feelings into words half as brilliantly as he. You won't check him out on playlist.com, you won't... ;)

A collection of my favorite Dennen lyrics:

"and there's enough wealth for everyone but some have the most and most have some and there's enough food for us all to flourish tell me why are so many malnourished you say this weakness in an empty pocket, no and I'll tell you this weakness in an empty heart and you say there's strength in the power to control and I'll tell you no, there's strength in only love and compassion"

"desert moonrise, into the night
before we lay our heads
I wish to walk under the splendorous starlight
sing so sweetly, it’s the sweetest sound
and I’ve become weak in the knees
and I drop down and kiss the ground
and all my cares lie far below
in this earth I wish to die
in this hearth my fire grows"

"i knew my reality was clearly defined
by the fences put up around my mind
i watched them thicken into walls over time
taller than any boarder line
i saw civilizations deemed insignificant
i saw people's history tatooed on their skin
i saw families taken from their land
dynasties shattered and stolen

and i asked when... is a revolution
i asked when... is a revolution"

"life is so precious it's as fragile as a dream
and in a moment we all grow our wings"

"See, when you forgive your imperfections
And you’ve auctioned all your clothes
And look to see your true reflection
You will be the one who loves you the most"

"I don't feel comfortable with the way my clothes fit.
I cant get used to my bodys limits.
I got some fancy shoes to try and kick away these blues.
They cost a lot of money but they arent worth a thing.
I wanna free my feet from the broken glass and concrete.
I need to get out of this city.
Lay apon the ground stare a hole in the sky,
wondering where I go when I die."

"The wind blows wild and i may move
But politicians lie and I am not fooled
You don't need no reason or a three piece suit, to argue the truth
The air on my skin and the world under my toes
Slavery is stitched into the fabric of my clothes
Chaos and commotion wherever I go
Love, I try to follow

Love will come set me free"

Greetings Earthlings

Welcome....To My World.

Here, at blogger.com, I most supremely swear to convey myself in the best way that I can. I will attempt to provide you with peeks into the milimoments of my everyday thoughts, experiences, confessions, catastrophes, glories, and overall, my world (hence, um, the title).

Reader Beware, I tend to express myself however I darn well please, the pieces in this blog could (most definitely) include as follows; made up words, shortened words, elongated words, irrelevant comments, obscenity, nudity, extreme optimism (keep barf bag at hand), what I believe to be epiphanies, favorite quotes, works in progress, embarrassingly bad poetry, and anything else that tickles me fancy or the bottom of my feet (which are quite large, oh well).

I am not trying to impress anyone with my eloquent descriptions or awe you people with my scholarly credibility. I am just being me, so take it, as is.

Oh, if this is anything, I repeat, If this is anything like the 23 sometin' journals I have started and promptly stopped in the last 25 years (yes, I was clearly writing poetry in the womb and before conception, no big deal) ....this will be the first and only post. However, hopes high, I believe I'll have better luck this time.

How excited are you? I'm going to put 5 bucks down that you are stoked out of your mind.

This is my introduction, in case you were curious. The good stuff is on the way....