I was born in 1947

You know...back when things were simpler...quieter...
back when reading, imagining, and music were the only distractions...the only escapes.

I used to daydream about the future...you know, flying cars, teleportation, houses in space...
I mean, my head wasn't always in the clouds, I also thought about important things...like "the american dream" or the "normal life..."
Sprucing up the car and collecting chicks...
Getting through college or joining the army.
People can get so divided.
I watched as color entitled and shattered humanity...
protest after protest...
death after death...
inches gained and inches lost...
I watch now as color, gender, beliefs, and sexuality entitles and subtly shuns in paragraphs of political correctness...
but I digress.

Back in my day, things were simpler. Love was easier to understand.
You have the man
you have the woman
and then you have forever.

Love was like your 1,2, 3's or the A, B, C's. Husbands coming home to a cooked meal, smiling children, and an attractive wife vacuuming in her high heels. Separate beds but smiling faces!
Then I grew up.
I looked at my parent's and the life they shared and my stomach turned.
I thought to myself, "This can't be it."
Wallpapered walls, cheap linoleum...it all seems like a manicured stencil that just doesn't fit...
at least not for me.
Enter into the late sixties. I guess I'm not alone...these feelings of revolt are mirrored in every young face I see. Funky prints and long hair; hugs and daisy chains; floaters-drifters-wanderers...this fits nice. I hitch-hiked quite a bit. Never very far, just from here to there…I loved hearing the stories of my hosts…their beliefs, opinions, jokes, advice, and occasionally, enjoyed their short-lived love.
I tell ya, there’s just something about being in the moment and letting that moment happen. Let it happen sometime, do yourself a favor.
Anyway, I guess you could consider me a wanderer of sorts. A boat with no sail.
Just going with the ebb and flow, the moon, the moment.

(chuckle) It’s kind of strange to be saying all this…I talk of all this freedom but I don’t feel very free. I don’t have sails but I have an anchor and I feel stuck. I can feel the currents pulling this way and that but I’ve grown a little weary and my hands stay clenched in my pockets. I thought I was…I felt I was…but I closed my eyes for one second and when I opened them I was here wondering what happened, how I got here. The American dream, the normal life, the nine to five with weekends off?
It’s never what I wanted but it’s what I have (shakes head)
Fear is a funny thing.
I know it may not mean anything to ya now, but try to keep your eyes open. Even when you want to close them tight and succumb. Be strong and stay true. Leave things undefined and accept it, embrace each moment and savor every kiss.
I feel like I know you…(chuckle) well, at least you have a good taste of me.

 (I was born in 1947 by me 5/31/11)

Karaoke @ Acapulco-->I mean AcaPUNCHo

I wouldn't say karaoke is in my typical Monday night agenda but when it happens it is a blast. I am newer to the karaoke scene but I feel right at home with karaoke-mate, Ginger (who is freaking AMAZING, by the way).
It seemed like any other ordinary night at Acapulco...festive decor, margaritas, drunk strangers hanging on one another, and people singing one hit wonders to the moon.

decor

 We thumbed through the song picks and sipped on drinks. Pretty quickly I was called up and sang Human League's "Don't You Want Me?" with a drunken woman who opted to hold a microphone and stand up there with me (always precious). After my song a man decided to approach me...he said that I had the PERFECT voice for that song but really needed a guy to sing it with me...he then volunteered his service for next time.
Ginger was called up next and she freaking ROCKED her song!! (Forgive me, I can't remember the title because it was the first time I had heard it...so in my head, it is HER song, she wrote it! :)

Ginger in all her lovelyness!! (note her super cute peacock feather :)

 Feelin' spunky we kept looking for more songs but then something changed in the was "carefree air".
Right in front of us are two huge, burly men head to head. My brain began to asses the situation but not quick enough. While thinking, "We should move" the men came crashing onto our high stool bar table knocking it over along with countless chairs. Our drinks went flying, we got sprayed sticky, and then we quickly and cautiously got as completely out of the way as possible. The men were landing some pretty good licks and it was sad/humorous to watch these tiny-high Acapulco employees attempt to break up this brawl between to monster-sized-to them folk. I am guessing it was at least three minutes before it was "clear" but then two girls decided to get into it. They were successfully kept apart but it looked like they were a key part in this whole debacle. Oh the joy of drunken passion!

The culprit in mid-step...or at least one of them, ha.

The bummer was it ended the night...and I never got to sing Gaga.Thank you AcaPUNCHo. You were very entertaining.

We may or may not be back.

Story Time

Mondays are usually manic...or at least have the potential to be...I mean, there is a song about the craziness of Mondays so you know something has it out for you on this fateful day.
But, let's get to the point here. Nothing can be as mortifying as being hit by a car...but this act is even INCREASINGLY terrible if it occurs on a Monday.

December 6, 2010 I watched a teen-aged boy get hit by a car. Thankfully he was not hurt at all...and incidentally his episode was one of the most amazing things I have EVER seen in my life. I have very roughly sketched the scene for you:

Meet figure 1a. He is a 14-16 year old male who is rocking black, curly hair and specs. He has a hoodie on, both hands concealed warmly in his pocket and some pants. Stereotypically, he was the black-haired version of Napoleon Dynomite.

Meet figure 1 b. This is a classy old woman car. Champagne colored...probably a Lincoln...with a mid to late aged woman behind the wheel. She wants to make a right hand turn to beat the cars who just got their green light...she forgets to look for PEOPLE and nails Napoleon who has barely taken three steps.

Napoleon's leg fly up, his head doesn't touch the car, and he manages to keep his hands in that hoodie pocket of his.

Napoleon LANDS ON TWO FEET and doesn't even acknowledge the woman who almost killed him. The woman is flipping out but decides to just pull over and let him continue walking.

Hands still deep in that sturdy pocket of his, he walks away...no limp, no nothing....NEVER looking back.

It was like getting hit by a car was apart of his everyday routine. I had the giggles the rest of the day...and still do.

On a totally unrelated more "standard" blog note, I have a sweet little DIY project coming up and some pillow case sets almost ready for photography! So stay tuned folks!!

And remember, when crossing the street look BOTH ways and make sure those right-hand-turner's see you!!

(Napoleon, you're awesome, you're like super man! I hope you're truly are okay :)