Why I Resent Bob Marley

You are thinking, "How can anyone resent Bob Marley?!  He is the most laid back dude that ever lit a joint."

I know it is strange but I have had a building resentment for the man over the past few years.  It started when we got back from here:

Anguilla

Pronounced ang-GWIL-ə NOT an gee a...it is a British West Indies island, not a Latin one

Have you ever been here?  It is an amazing place.  Anguilla is next to St. Maarten and is a British West Indies Island.  One thing that is absolutely wonderful about it is that it is surrounded by a coral reef through which cruise ships cannot pass.  This makes it so you have all the benefits of the island and its tourist (not touristy) industry but no mobs of people inundating the island off a ship every day.

Sidebar: I have nothing against cruise ships per se but if you go to a town that has ships come in and compare it to one that doesn't, you are going to find the one that doesn't is quieter, more relaxed and less expensive.

My family spent a week here after my Mom had been going a few times a year (she still does).  She has fallen in love with the place and it is easy to see why.  There are miles upon miles, even for a tiny island, of the most perfectly white sand beaches you have ever seen.  There are beach shacks for simple and very good island food and beach bars right there so you don't have to go far for a rum punch or A Carib.  The breeze carries the message of relaxation and the food and drinks help it along.

It is as if you are in the place you are supposed to be in order to listen to Bob Marley correctly.

Yes.  I know.  It is traditionally associated with Jamaica but since I have yet to go to Jamaica, this feels right to me.  I listened to other music while I was there of course but nothing seemed to go right to my heart like Bob when I was in that place.  I could close my eyes, laying on the beach and feel like I was floating on a wave of relaxation; no cares, no worries.  It is something that if difficult to attain anywhere else and explain.  All I can say is, when you have it, you don't want it to end.

Back in the US, I thought that if I listened to the music, I would be able to transport myself back to that place and state of mind...

no such luck.

I felt like there were pieces missing that made it so hearing the music made me long to be there, it didn't just let me be there in my mind.  It made me a little sad.  The more I tried to listen, the worse it sounded.

Now, I listen to a radio station that will play Marley occasionally, especially during the lunch hour.  On those workdays at lunch where I have to rush home to let the doggies out and then try to eat something at the speed of light and rush back to the office, you'd think a block of Bob would make me feel better...

NO!

Half of me has an overwhelming urge to change the radio station (or put my fist through it depending on the day I am  having) because I can't be there, go there anytime soon or at least bask in the memories.  The other half wants to desperately to get that feeling back that I can't change the station, chasing the dragon if you will.  It's an exhausting battle of wills going on in my brain.  I end up tired from it...but I still have to go back to work.  Grrrrr.

And that is why it is possible to resent Mr. Bob Marley.

I don't want to resent him, really I don't.  In order to resolve this problem I think what I need to do is hop on a plane, go to Anguilla (with my laptop) and get me a fix of Bob, rum punch and white sand.  I think if I do enough research there, I can find a way to make the music right again for myself.  If it requires many trips back and forth to test theories, so be it.  You gotta do what you gotta do.  Maybe then, 'every little thing's gonna be alright'.  I can only give it my best shot.

Pre-Guilting

Oh it's bad, it is. Guilt is something I was born with and has been difficult to remove. It's like that spiderweb you run into that you can't see and you are stuck with that icky feeling of the web strands and no matter how hard you try to remove them, you still feel them. *shudder*

I used to think guilt was just a part of my Catholic upbringing and if I left the Catholic behind, I'd leave the guilt there too. Not so much.

Even worse, I have found a NEW way to feel this horrible thing, pre-guilt. I just identified it this morning when I was looking at the sucky weather report for the next 10 days. Next week we are to have temps above 95 degrees and not below 72 degrees. This is bad for the girl that has been trying to get back to her normal running pace after being hampered by an ankle sprain and no gym membership. So even though I have absolutely no control about the weather I already feel guilty that I am not going to run on Monday.

How sick am I?

I haven't even slacked off yet and here I am feeling guilty becuase on Monday, in the future, I am not going to run. This is just ridiculous. I have to do something about this before I completely lose my mind and start blaming myself for the BP oil spill (which I already kinda do, driving an SUV and all).

So how do I do it? How do I stop guilt (for things that are unnecessary...I mean, if I was nasty for no reason to someone I would still feel guilty) from taking over?

How do you do it? How do you stop guilt?

This is Just Weird

So we have very little storage space in our house and it is MOST evident in our kitchen. I actually had to forgo a set of dishes because they were too big for the cabinet. I found a set that work but I definitely need to reorganize a little and maybe put some things in the yard sale pile. The strange part is, I know EXACTLY what I should get rid of or at lease streamline but I cannot bring myself to do it and I don't know why.

Coffee mugs. I know, really odd.

I am not talking about the ones that match my new dishes I am talking about the ones we have been given at little gifts or maybe one that I picked up while traveling. I set it in my mind that I should keep three and I'd let P pick three to keep as well. I could not do it. It was like trying to pick stuffed animals to keep and the rest to send to....um...a farm.

I think I get this from my Mom. She has a HUGE collection of mugs that she doesn't need as well. Seriously I think she has like 30 in her cabinet. Seriously! Also, I drink coffee every weekday from travel mugs (that I don't get rid of until they are falling apart. Not dishwasher safe? Whatever) so it's not like I am using the stupid ceramic mugs every day, only on the weekends.

Why do I need to keep two Christmas mugs in my cabinet? Why do I need a mug from Cape Cod that was made in China? Why do I need any mug that is smaller than 6 ounces? I don't need them so why is it so hard to get rid of them? Why am I keeping the stainless steel ones that burn my lips when I try to drink from them?

I just really hope I am not moving into Hoarders territory.

Do you have anything that you know you should get rid of but can't seem to?

Writers Workshop Thursday - Foot IN Mouth Disease

Honestly, this does not happen that often. I think way too much about what I say. I carefully avoid topics that might offend someone just in case they have a crazy relative or some horrible traumatic episode in their past that might be dredged up because I mention one thing or another.

BUT about once a year, I do say something that makes me wonder if an alien has taken over my body. Something interesting, I am never partaking of adult beverages so I don't have an excuse other than "Sofia from the Golden Girls Disease". Remember that she would just say whatever, whenever? It's like that but it last for 2 seconds and I am left wide-eyed wondering what hell just happened.

So, when I first moved back to PA I was actually seeing someone. It was a guy my brother introduced me to that was a volunteer fireman. He was a really nice guy and he helped move me from NC to PA (NOTE: I had already decided to move back BEFORE I met this guy). Anyway, my brother had a party at my Mom's house and this guy was there and a friend of his. His friend was a really nice guy too (and he was a K9 cop which is just too cool). So this guys was lamenting about how he could not find the right girl and so the guys were giving him advice and I had a Golden Girl moment...

'We'll just get you some spray on hair and you'll be good to go."

*crickets chirping...loudly*

I seriously don't know what happened right after that but I do know that I was STUNNED at what I had just said. I have NO CLUE to this day why I said it. Was he loosing his hair, yes. He was a REALLY good looking guy though which totally would have overshadowed that feature. Needless to say, that guy and I stopped seeing each other. No break up really, just stopped on account of me being A TOTAL LUNATIC.

It's So Hard to Say Goodbye

I am one of those people who fall for inanimate objects. When I was about seven, I bought a stuffed animal at The Christmas Tree Shops solely because it had a defect. There were a ton in the bin and I was so worried that no one would take the little kitty home and it would end up in a dumpster somewhere. I slept with that kitty for a very long time. I remembered feeling like I had done a good deed.

I have not come very far. Don't worry, I am not a hoarder or anything. I generally stay away from stuffed animals (although I do have a collection of Beanie Babies I cannot bring myself to get rid of) and other similar things. I started giving some of the animals to the dogs but they like to rip them up so a little piece of my heart goes when I hear a seam tear or find a pile of fluff in the living room. Anyway, I did have a moment of heartbreak this weekend in the same genre. I got a new car which meant I was leaving the old one behind.

This was the first car I ever actually OWNED. We actually had the title in our hot little hands for awhile. It was the first car I felt I had complete control over when making the decision what to get. I loved my car and took care of it. It had a 'Woof" sticker, a "mutt" magnet and an "AXA" sticker for Anguilla (very unique). I was not ready to let it go this weekend. I really thought I would just get it fixed and I'd be on my merry way. Well, six hours later after working the numbers I had a new car. I never got the chance to say goodbye to my Pilot or prepare myself for giving him up. I just had to clear him out and take off my 'Mutt' magnet, leaving the stickers and hand over my keys. At one point I even felt like we were stealing a dead man's wallet as we removed the wheel locks to put on the new car.

We sat by the window and finished up the paperwork. I looked outside wistfully at my car and hoped that after a a paint job and an alignment fix that the next person would like him as much as I did.

I am teary-eyed. Yes, I am that person.




(it's the silver one all the way to the left *snif*)

I Must Really Be Bored

Work has picked up considerably so my posting is a little erratic.

Yesterday I needed to grab a couple things from the grocery store. I have not been in a few weeks because I have been getting our food from other places. There are somethings that you cannot get from the farm stand though, things like deodorant. I have had a tiny piece of my Dove deodorant left for about a week. You ladies know how it gets when the solid gets low, it gets crumbly and when you use it you pray that you will be able to get enough off of it before is crumbles all over you and on the floor. Half of it fell off the week before. So the mornings have had this added little stresser of hoping it lasts one more day and hopefully I'll remember to pick up another one. FINALLY, the opportunity presented itself when I needed freezer bags and hamburger buns.

The sad thing is, I was actually excited about getting a new deodorant.

I was looking forward to slapping it on every morning without having to be gentle to prevent more crumbling. I actually thought of this as a pleasant experience. There is something VERY wrong with me.

Scary Books

For any of you that were fans of the show Friends, do you remember when Rachel and Joey traded favorite books and when Joey was scared of the book (his book - the Shining) or sad about a book (Rach's book - Little Women) he put the book in the freezer? Well right now, I want to put The Golden Compass in the freezer.



I LOVE to read. I really do but this book is making my blood run cold right now and it's killing me. Today when I get home all I want to do is go outside, sit in the sun with a glass of wine and read BUT...the book scares me. I worry that I am going to have nightmares about it. Let me remind you that this book was written for CHILDREN. I am a fraidy cat. Also, I am a bit screwed up and my imagination is insane realistic (this is why I don't like movies). When I read (or see a movie), it's like I am there, in the middle of things. When things in a book scare me or make me sad, I think I feel them way more deeply than I should. It's freaking make-believe but somehow in my mind, I can make it seem more real. I don't know. Maybe I am not making sense. It's almost like I am trying to avoid the emotion that the book evokes because it costs me too much to let it out.

When I read books about real like (biographies, memoirs, etc) I don't have the same problem. I can read them, think about them, feel any sort of emotion and I am fine but bring fiction into the mix and I have to put the book down...or maybe in the freezer.

Dental Mental

I have decided that I am not allowed to be in public after trips to the dentist. It does something very odd to my brain. I started going to the dentist regularly again about 6 months ago because, well, not becuase I am now a mature adult, but because I actually had a problem that continued to get worse. They found 7 f-ing cavities, including a gaping hole where I cracked a tooth. Six months later I dutifully went for my next cleaning, 3 more. Today I had the new cavities filled. Such fun. I started to notice though, when I get into my office after these visits, I am slightly left of center and having conversations is not a good idea. I am not sure if it's the stress, the vibration in my head from the torture instruments or the mouth being open for so long but I generally lose the ability to act normal. Last week, after my cleaning, a co-worker had to tell me that the answer I gave to a question or joke they said was marginally offensive to him. It was like I meant to say one thing and another came out of my mouth. I explained that I had just come from the dentist and I was 'not right.' He understood having recent, extensive dental work. Today, SAME co-worker, same thing (only he didn't mention it b/c I hightailed it out of the kitchen). I also have been using my hands to gesticulate a lot more. I am not sure if it's because my brain is slower and I feel the need to express my thoughts faster or what. Anyway, after work, I will probably collapse into bed and sleep until tomorrow...which is also odd for me.

I know it's not the novocaine/epi because it's not just when I have something filled. Although the epi does make my heart race and I thought I was having a panic attack because of it when I went the first time. I am beginning to think they pump nitrus into the rooms through the HVAC vents or something and the staff must have developed a tolerance to it by now so that we patients do not become suspicious. ;)

Starbucks Freak Out

So I am not in the best of moods on Saturday when I head to the SB on City Ave to drown my sorrows in a Peppermint White Mocha. We lost our game because people didn't bother showing up for the game and that JUST PISSES ME OFF. Anyway, point is I am not happy. I go to SB, order my drink and wait FOR-FLIPPIN'-EVER. It's not even busy. Anyway, I get to my car finally and look at my cup because it is not exactly the be PWM I have ever had and check the side for the secret code. There on the side (in addition to the correct secret code) is a little note that says "Smile - Jen". W H A T ! In the first place, I didn't tell anyone my name, in the second place you made me a bad drink, took forever with it and I have a right not to smile today! So I am driving, wondering who the flip I know in that SB. Who knows my name is Jen? I am now moving my drink in circles hoping that all the WM and Peppermint is at the bottom because they didn't stir it. Better but still not good enough for the $. Anyway, I am still contemplating who the hell knows me there when I realize...the person who was at the register's name was probably Jen and she wrote it on there either for me or for the barista (who sucked).

Or...someone knows me there and I don't know them...and they know my drink now. And they suck at making it.