The Daily Writes

Mixed Tapes

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Music is my memory holder. Hearing certain songs brings me back to a moment in time in vivid detail. An ACDC song takes me back to 1986 when I drove a 1978 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. The car, purchased used by my dad, had an 8 track music player. The seller graciously donated a shoe box full of Barbara Streisand tracks. While I like Streisand and her music, at 16 it wasn’t really my thing. While I saved diligently to buy a real car stereo, I used a boom box to play cassette tapes while driving. ACDC was on a favorite mixed tape along with Poison and Van Halen, I was big into rock.

Boston reminds me of my brother and his room in our house growing up. The Carpenters and Elton John remind me of the times my older sisters and I would listen to the radio in the St. Boniface parking lot. Styx makes me think of green shag carpet because that’s what was on the floor of my parents bedroom. I would sit on that carpet in front of the record player and read the album cover, singing along with the lyrics. Air Supply still reminds me of the nights I would lie on my bedroom floor rewinding the cassette over and over to see if I could hold the final note of “All Out of Love” as long as the lead singer did.

I never could hold the note of that Air Supply singer, and I don’t listen to mixed tapes anymore. I hate how everything is digital and I can’t drop a record onto a player. But I will always love the old stuff, and the places it takes me.

What I saw today

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Today I spent quite a bit of time on Muni and walking through the Castro and SOMA. In just a few short hours I ran across so many interesting sights, I was reminded of the reasons I love this city. It is visually stimulating in a very hearty way. Like an awesome, rich and well put together piece of lasagna, it forces you to savor and sit back occasionally.

Here is what I saw and heard today:

The huge PRIDE flag over the Castro muni stop, snapping in the wind as the fog moved out.

A homeless man who had let go of any verbal plea and opted instead for just shoving his hand toward me as I walked by.

A crowded train full of rushed, tense people suddenly overrun at a stop by a band of 10 1st graders who breathed a bit of life into the car with their shenanigans.

A sweet little girl and her mother on a lunch date under the dome at SF Centre.

Dandruff on many of the passengers on the packed-like-sardines train car I took home at rush hour.

A surprising level of humanity and consideration exhibited by those packed in passengers as we jostled about and remained tolerant while more and more people packed in at each stop.

Sadness in the face of a friend while he talked about his frustrating search for a partner.

Joy in the face of another as she shared the early stages of a romance going well.

Glee on the face of my sweaty, active little boy when he saw me after a day away from each other.

 

Trivial Pursuits

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I cruise Facebook often. It is my go to source for news updates, current events, mom’s forums and just arbitrary and interesting things.

Recently, I’ve become obsessed with taking meaningless quizzes. Somehow, finding out what type of personality I have based on my favorite color is interesting. And seeing who my 80’s movie boyfriend would have been seems like a worthwhile pursuit.

Last night, I was taking a quiz about how well I know big 80’s hair bands. In a rare move, my husband asked what I was doing and moved closer to me so he could join in. Secretly I was excited, I would for sure ace a quiz about hair bands, as this was my go to music as a teen.

When we finished the quiz I scrolled through to find another that my husband would be interested in. The “Do you know everything?” quiz caught my eye. This one would work, my husband knows quite a bit of random facts, and he thinks he knows everything.

We launched in and he easily rattled off the answers. We came to one question about whether you could see the Great Wall of China from space, he answered yes. We were notified that the answer was incorrect. I tried to move on but he was perturbed. We finished the quiz and he was still a dog with a bone on the Great Wall question, although the quiz score, which reported that he did, in fact, know almost everything, momentarily comforted him.

On a Friday, the pursuit of trivial seems like a good idea. As a shout out to prepping the brain for a relaxing weekend, see if this quiz can guess your age with three questions. Or find out your nickname in a past life here.

 

 

Keep Kicking The Piñata Girl

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My hairstylist is a gem. He regularly dispenses pearls of wisdom in a way only he can.

Years ago he counseled me to get out there with my writing. He gave me such an inspired pep talk, that I went out and signed up for a writing class with my AWESOME writing coach, The Sexy Grammarian.

I saw him again yesterday and told him I write down some of the genius he spews while creating magic on my head. My favorite is “Keep kicking the piñata girl, candy is going to fall out!”

Yesterday I also shared with him that ever since launching my blog, I’m struggling with writers block. My inner critic is on full alert, wondering with everything I write, “Why would anyone want to read this?” Perhaps I’m trying too hard; blog stage fright. He said, “Honey, listen, if you have to, just close the curtain. Get comfortable behind the scenes and open it back up when you are ready.”

I love his advice, but after considering this I think I’m going to keep the curtain open. Shut up inner critic, you’re old and useless to me now. I have arrived and I’m only interested in going for it.

About Boobs

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I recently stumbled upon some writing from my first few months of pregnancy and will be sharing it occasionally on The Daily Writes. Pregnancy was such a wild ride, and is quite funny from the other side.

Six weeks pregnant….today I write about boobs. Breasts. Two beautiful breasts I used to have. Now, I am in the early stages of pregnancy and I have a bosom. Just one, large heaving bar of bosom trapped in my bra. I have a muffin top look now, over the top of the bra, that pooch that comes out when the bra is too small. And a bosom. I struggle with finding a positive place to live in my head. I struggle to find something to wear that works for me. In reality, it’s not as bad as my head makes it, but then again that’s how it goes with me and my body; the relationship has always been tough and altered. And now I am pregnant, what a ride it will be.  I’m trying to live by a quote I heard recently, “expand beyond the edges”.  Oh, how true that is, in both a figurative and literal sense. I will embrace my bosom, heave it around with pride and attitude.