Paul Newman.

One of my favorites. He passed away this past weekend. Incredible actor. One of the best.

The First Day of Autumn

It’s here. Finally. Will we actually see the manifestations of the first, official day of autumn? Well, apparently, the weather is supposed to cool down this week, day by day, so perhaps we may see vestiges of fall. I’m not holding my breath. The dreams of clicky boots and wool skirts may not come to fruition for a long while (or if ever), so we’ll simply see what happens. It would be nice to take a New England drive or see the Skyline leaves at some point.

The weekend was full and fast. I spent time with friends, enjoyed a picnic with some friends and some way awesome food…it was cool. And then Monday came. Just like that! Crazy. But it was nice. I enjoyed myself. (Weird, huh? A rarity? No, no…just more predisposed to fatigue these days. Fatigue that I bring on myself, so Girley is the one to blame here).

For lunch, I’ll be having Cheerios. So, yeah, it’s Monday.

More laters.

For a Rainy Day? Does Fried Chicken Count?

You know how parents tell you to save your money for a rainy day? What if you start to save your appetite for a rainy day? As in preparing your tummy to eat? Because that’s apparently what I’m doing. Last night, while I spoke on the telephone with my BFF, I told her of my intention to eat at Popeye’s for lunch. Of course, this wasn’t a normal, everyday remark. I spoke of it like a goal, a dream, a solid thing. Wow. So, thanks, Mom and Dad. I’ve finally figured out how to save! (Yes, I’ve misapplied the adage, probably in the worst way. But whatever. No one reads this silly thing, anyway.)

Speaking of this silly thing, I think it’s time for a phase-out. Please, no tears. I think when we reach 100 posts, I may have to say good-bye to the JournaBlog. I’m still thinking about it, though. Reasons? None so much. We’ll see. Still ruminatin’.

New artist of the week that I’m obsessed with: Justin Nozuka. Yikes. I love, I love. His songwriting is amazing; the voice is amazing; and his aunt is Kyra Sedgwick. Blah. But that means his uncle is Kevin Bacon! Yeah! Anyway, to judge him without the whole Bacon thing, his single is quite addictive. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hgGkJez6pcM Maybe he and Adele can do some kind of tour or something? Adele? Justin? Are you out there?

My attempt at closing the books on something, as vaguely as possible: I have my answers. I acquired them in the worst kind of way. But it’s over now, and I’ll be all right. New promises are here, new convictions to keep myself from being burned by this particular fire. Over and out.

Back to Justin Nozuka.

Hgis…

That’s “sigh” backwards. I figure that rendering it backwards will diminish the nuisance of saying it all the time, which I do. Anywho, it’s another Wednesday. I’m headachey and tired, which is hardly new. I’m also starving and intend to pig out with the best of them as soon as I leave this place. Hgis…

In other words, if I were some kind of product from Best Buy or Wal-Mart? Someone would totally take me back. Without a receipt, ready for store credit, no arguing, this product is a mess. Hgis, indeed.

Time for agua and some medicinal intervention.

Peace out for now.

Easy Like Sunday Morning

This was Sunday.

Apparently, I watched too many Indiana Jones films in my youth and gained an itch for adventure. Because yesterday, along with a rag-tag group of other adventurers (namely, my Mama and my Pal), we went to NYC. For the day. Early in the morning, then back home in the evening. It was fast and all over the place and I loved it.

We went to see my Sis in the big city and hang out with her for most of the day. We left at 6am and got to NYC around 11 (normally we would have been there around 10, but there was weird traffic). Trip on the subway, whizzing about in a taxicab, yummy food, time with the Sis–and then right back on the road again headed for home. And I drove in New York! And we lived through it! (I’m amazed that the accident numbers aren’t tripled for that place, seriously). It was quite awesome.

Good times.

Falling On My Head Like a Tragedy…

It rained cows and elephants this past Saturday. It rained so hard that upon slipping off my shoes, I was horrified to see that my heels (not the shoe heels, but my physical heels) had turned green! It was unbelievable. Umbrellas were in vain–the crazy wind was driving the rain into the umbrella. I was completely soaked. Despite my car getting one of the best washes of her little life, Tropical Hanna was in no mood for games for Saturday. Everyone was equally reminded, I’m sure, that the weather can be mind-blowing.

At the end of the day, after all of that rain, the sun was softly shining and the atmosphere was beaming. Uncommonly beautiful. Sigh. It’s the never-ending cycle. My appreciation for rain will come one day, I tell you, completely under duress and completely as a result of moments like that: when the atmosphere, post-rain, looks like a jewel.

That was Saturday.

Bend it like Beckham!

I’m on a poetry kick. Get it? Beckham? Get it? Is there anyone out there? No, there isn’t. But I’m so ok with that.

I said it a few posts ago, but the poems have been really coming here and there. One of them has even been entered in a fake contest! (See below). Anywho, I’m happy about it. This is no guarantee that I won’t bemoan the lack of creativity by next week, but I’ll takes what I can get.

The weekend looms. During said weekend, this area will receive the hardcore remnants of a tropical storm. Yes, you heard it here: Somewheres, VA, will see the kind of flooding that usually bypasses us. I don’t know what to say. I just have a major beef with the crazy weather, obviously. I really do. Come personification, the weather and I definitely have a meeting by a pair of flagpoles somewhere. Sheesh. I long for the day when I don’t have to comment on loony heat and numbing cold and, who knows, cows descending from the sky. Yeah, that’ll happen. As my bro likes to say, that’ll happen in the month of Neveruary.

For Reals?

So…I just got a letter in the mail here at work. One of my poems (hastily written at the zenith of emotion, which is probably the best and worst way to write) has been deemed as a semi-finalist in a poetry competition. I KNOW. Wow. Huh? I want to be excited, really I do, but did I just buy a jarful of flies? Have been sold the same potion Paul McCartney and Michael Jackson were shilling in the “Say Say Say” video? Have I been conned?

These things can be a bit funny. Whereas I simply went to a poetry website to add my little poem to the other thousands on there, I’m now a semi-finalist in a contest that I don’t remember reading about when I was on the site. The letter I received seemed real, but so do elixirs that promise to get rid of warts when you have warts. Despite an offer to purchase the publication that will bear my poem (nope), I’m supposedly under no obligation to submit a fee or monies or payment. Again, seems true and genuine, but so did Paul McCartney. I will decidedly not hold my breath. We shall see. I’m keeping the letter, though. If it turns out that I was conned, thank goodness we live in a litigious society. Evidence.

Boyce Avenue ROCKS.

What plays in the ipod as we e-speak:

“Change Your Mind”
Boyce Avenue
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dXL9ZIPArdE

There you are with your perfect way
You’ve got that little shine in your eyes
To hear one word would make my day
But there’s no room for me in your life

Oh you’ve got me down on my knees
Oh and in my mind I can see
How perfect everything could be
But you won’t give us a try

If I could change your mind
How would you want me
Would you say you need me
Cause I need you now

I try to move on but your perfect way
Has got this little child asking why
But this world keeps spinning
As my heart stops beating
Is there still no room inside

Oh you’ve got me down on my knees
Oh and in my mind I can see
How perfect everything could be
But you won’t give us a try

If I could change your mind
How would you want me
Would you say you need me
Cause I need you now

If I could change your mind
(Please tell me I’m not the only one)
(Please help me believe I’m not the only one)
If I could change your mind

If I could change your mind
How would you want me
Would you say you need me
Cause I need you now

If I could change your mind
How would you hold me
Would you stay forever
Or just leave me here to drown

If I could change your mind
(Change your mind)
If I could change your mind
(Change your mïnd)

Pesky Little Pest!

There’s a mosquito living in my car. I will explain.

Last night, while out and about with a friend, my car wouldn’t start. I was like, “no, seriously” and tried to start it again. Nothing. There were blinking dashboard lights, crazy blinking (which was a bit unnerving, nothing like the “Knight Rider”), yet no whirr of the engine and total silence. I was slightly, shall we say, flabbergasted? My car is young. We met in 2006! Which was only 2 years ago! In the end, I was obviously too stunned to realize (the epiphany came much later) that it hardly matters what year we met or when she came into my life–cars have batteries and batteries fail. In this case, it was my battery. And so I called Triple A. While we waited for Triple A, we had to open our doors and get some air, what little air was middling about in the 90 degree atmosphere. This was when El Mosquito and his 18 friends took residence in my car.

We managed to kill his 18 friends. But the captain refuses to die. I saw him this morning, hanging out on my windshield. I nearly crashed my newly rejunevated car (more later) trying to kill him. His resilience makes me sick. And, might I add, that same resilience will have me scratching and fidgeting all the way to next year.

Regarding the newly rejuvenated car, Triple A has this grand thing where, if your battery is kaput, they’ll replace it for you for a fee. The idea of getting a simple jump start and having to take it to a shop this morning and all that was less than appetizing, so I gave him the OK. So it works and it starts. Woo and Hoo.