[about the author]
i actually like speaking in front of large crowds. freakish,
i work crossword puzzles in ink.
i am the american nigella lawson. or maybe the american eddie
izzard. can't decide, really.
i would be a really good mom, but i'm cool with being a really
i am sometimes more perceptive than i would like to be.
i am fiercely loyal. sometimes, stupidly so.
i never play dumb. never.
i am way too hard on myself.
i am a change agent.
i sometimes cross that fine line between assertive and aggressive.
i am not afraid to tell people that i love them.
i am militantly pro-choice.
i am pro-adoption.
i know a little bit about alot of things.
i typically enjoy the company of men more than women.
i am capable of being really mean and nasty, but i fight it.
i am a lifelong cubs fan. do not laugh.
i have been known to hold a grudge.
i have hips.
i am not my sister.
i am lousy at forgiving myself.
i am an indoor kind of gal.
i am a bargain shopper. to the point of obsession.
i am 32 flavors. and then some.
20 minutes and counting…
i have 20 minutes.
20 minutes to get something down.
that’s how you do it.
at least that’s what they say.
just put something down.
whatever comes to mind.
that’s how you do it.
how you get the monkey off your back.
how you push through the block.
how you get yourself used to it again.
now i have 18 minutes.
i could write about my conversation with m last night. about how i told him that i don’t like basketball because i was always creeped out by the nylon nut-hugger hot pants that the players wore for so long. he assures me they are but a memory. but it’s a memory i’ll never shake.
plus, i just don’t like basketball. so there’s that.
“you mean you don’t play the brackets?!” he asked in wonderment.
i can only assume this is some hip slang lingo that the kids nowadays use when talking about placing bets on the ncaa tournament. which i hear is wrapping up. or just wrapped up. or whatever.
“no, i don’t…play the brackets.”
“but why not?”
“m,” i say, “do i drink beer?”
“and, do you know why i don’t drink beer?”
“because…because you didn’t want to fall into the cliché of some college kid guzzling beer, because you were too hip for that, and so you decided to drink wine instead?”
i realize that i must come off as even more pretentious than my worst fears. and that’s pretty pretentious for those of you wondering.
“um, no. i don’t drink beer because i don’t like beer.”
“you mean you’ve actually tried beer and you don’t like it?”
“of course i’ve tried beer. i’ve tried all flavors of beer. lots of times. the only kind i ever really liked was a framboise lambic.”
and then i think that maybe i am more pretentious than my worst fears. i mean, a framboise lambic? it doesn’t get much higher on the pretentious scale than that one. although they really are very good. they’re what people used to drink in western europe before someone invented sun country wine coolers in two-liter bottles. only they’re way better than sun country wine coolers. except the part where they don’t come in two-liter bottles. that would definitely make them better.
i also drank guiness at one time. but that had everything to do with an irish boy with very kissable lips and not much at all to do with the guiness itself.
at any rate, i explained to m that i don’t like basketball, so i don’t play the brackets, and i don’t like to think about grown-ass men running around in nylon nut-hugger hot pants.
then i told him the bit about how i was flipping through channels and stopped to get a war update and that hota kotb chick was on msnbc and i’m staring at her name and all i can think of is that it looks like the jumble puzzle in the sunday paper and how i’m just sure that, if i focused, i could rearrange those letters so they would actually spell something, but then almost immediately i realize that i probably couldn’t because, really, there’s not a lot there to work with.
then i talked about how our friend, c, has asked his blog audience to submit their five favorite songs of all-time, and how that’s practically impossible for me to do, because my list changes all the time. plus, there are songs that i love that suck a lot, and i know that they suck, and i actually agree that they suck, but i just like them for a piece of their lyric or something equally small, and how can you explain that to someone? like, there’s a matchbox 20 song that i love, but just because of the lyric. i mean, it’s one of those lame story-songs, about this chick who locks up the brakes and puts her man out of the car on the side of the road because it’s over. and, really, a song like that should never even be considered for a top five list. but there’s this great lyric in it that goes something like, “while you were sleeping, i was listening to the radio and wondering what you were dreaming when it came to mind that i didn’t care.” and i think, man…that kicks ass. that sums it up right there. i wish i could distill things down like that. but then you have to stop yourself and say, “dude, i cannot put a matchbox 20 song on my top five list. especially a story-song. not for a piece of a lyric. i mean, you only have five slots. is that the way you want to go with that?”
and then i thought, “you know…this is exactly the kind of stuff i used to write about. i think i might try and write tomorrow.”
and so, now…i have five minutes.
and i think that, maybe…it’s close.
it’s almost gone.
it’s breaking loose.
one more day.
just one more.
and the words will come.
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