my thoughts, in three parts

I.

I have fallen in love more times than I care to count with the highest potential of a man rather than with the man himself, and then I have hung on to the relationship for a long time (sometimes far too long) waiting for the man to ascend to his own greatness. Many times in romance I have been a victim of my own optimism. (285)

II.

"Everyone gets like this, at the beginning of love. Wanting too much happiness, too much pleasure, until you make yourself sick. Even to Wayan this happens at beginning of love story. Lose balance."
"I'm embarrassed," I say.
"Don't," she said. Then she added in perfect English (and perfect Balinese logic), "To lose balance sometimes for love is part of living a balanced life." (298)

III.

...and I wonder if I am capable of being somebody's sun, somebody's everything. Am I centered enough now to be the center of somebody else's life? (311)

moment of truth

Mom: "So I was at the Great Banquet* and you were at a gay bar."
Me: "Yeah... but doesn't that explain our entire relationship in a nutshell?"



*religious retreat

Deep Thoughts by Elise Shrock

I have the most fabulous friend ever.

Elise Shrock (Butler) wrote at 6:41am on August 31st, 2007

Um. It is 6:34 a.m. I am at work, and it is way to early to stomach those dresses. I just happened to take a gander through these pics during a music break and let me just say: My hawaiian dress is STILL sealed in the bag that I put it in the next morning at Allison's house. I know that is a gross thing to admit but I'm so very, very, scared of going near it for fear of the White Castle stench creeping out. My mom and I decided that we should probably burn it. Seriously, it's the only way to take care of the problem and way more fun than just throwing it away. It's kind of like at church camp when they tell you to write your sins on a paper and then throw them in the fire to give them up. Well, those dresses are the paper and White Castle was the sin.

Music Mill

A spontanteous evening of music and drinks and eerily connected acquaintances and friends.

Highlights:
1. Met Josh Kelley. He's lovely. And one of very few people I can wholehearted say looks delicious in ripped/faded jeans.
2. Did not wake up in any random musician dressing rooms or ask for autographs in inappropriate anatomical areas. Makes for a nice change.
3. 2 people I absolutely adore were also present... and knew each other (crazy!)... and were as lovely and beautiful as always. (small small world this is)
4. Pat McGee is still so cute I could eat him with a spoon. Yes, Jen Kraus, he's still adorable.
5. Lauren's drunk dancing is, like... so hot right now. Thank god we're all so fantastically uninhibited and I can count on my friends to be not only non-judgmental but also equally outgoing/outrageous/fearless.
6. For the first time in my entire life, I actually gave out a phone number at a concert... that belongs to MY FATHER. That's right... I was totally pulling a PR job on my dad as a surgeon and gave his office info to this fantastic guy we met with a wrist injury.... but really, isn't is a compliment that he asked me for it? I can't really be so terrible if people are (soberly) considering my professional recommendation of my pops as a valid and worthwhile thing, right??

Mmmmm... I love us.

frustration

I really wish I could find the December 25, 2000 New Yorker. Specifically page 96.

_____________

Old Roses

• Hear Donald Hall Read 'Old Roses'

White roses, tiny and old, flare among thorns
by the barn door.
For a hundred years
under the June elm, under the gaze
of seven generations,
they lived briefly
like this, in the month of roses,
by the fields
stout with corn, or with clover and timothy
making thick hay,
grown over, now,
with milkweed, sumac, paintbrush.
Old
roses survive
winter drifts, the melt in April, August
parch,
and men and women
who sniffed roses in spring and called them pretty
as we call them now,
walking beside the barn
on a day that perishes.

- Donald Hall

1967 Envy

Watched Belle de Jour today with the incomparable Catherine Deneuve. A very noir film - a twist of sophisticate in a sexually bizarre cocktail of fantasy and bedroom eyes a la 1967.

God do I want her hair.

Had just watched the Colts game by myself (and ironed, incidentally) and was feeling a bit too Midwestern for my own good. Solution? Vintage French cinema.

Was admittedly shaken by the fantasy rape sequences - the film introduces Catherine's character in a scene where she is (turns out) imagining her own humiliation and gang rape in the Parisian woods. Small wonder the film was seen as 'controversial' and shelved for 35 years.

Fascinating, though, isn't it? 40 years later and the piece still holds power, even for someone like me who spent her entire childhood dismissing shock from her emotional arsenal of reactions... Oooohhh and she looks so ravishingly stunning in every scene, even when she has sunk into her most desperate moments and her hair is bed-russled and heaped atop her miserable head. She wins my Style Icon of the Month and henceforth I shall attempt some semblance of her poise and elegance.

If only someone would send me the Yves Saint-Laurent wardrobe she wore.

weekend update

1. Thursday: game night/reality television debate + fox and hound + late night breakfast conference with Julie.

2. Friday: psycho neurotic cleaning fest. highlights including hand-washing of each and every goddamn piece of cookery/flatwear/drinking vessel in the house and dropping the cutting board on my foot (hair in curlers at the time). red wine consumed. in subsequent effort to compensate, overdress and primp a la Miss America. Continue with Julie to Rathskellar, run into friends, drink Big Gulp size pilsner, admire general terror of surrounding urban male population (read: no one talked to us... no one). Proceed to MacNiven's and kick off Cranberry/Vodka Fest 2K7. Run into friends. Consume multiple cocktails. Befriend strangers, some worthy, some not so. Divulge phone numbers. Joined by friends later in the evening, by which time I am most deliciously and ridiculously inebriated. (Dishwashing fiasco long forgotten). Make several embarrassing comments to be later retold to me the next day by Julie. Eventually walk home with Julie. Somehow set off smoke alarm whilst attempting drunk popcorn snack. [smoke alarm now resting dormant on kitchen table]. Crash in bed.

3. Saturday: wake up next to Julie with smashing hangover. Send texts while Julie snoozes, mostly to complain of hangover.
- Classic response from Elise 1: "Changing for a wedding we are obviously late for in a truck stop somewhere along a highway in ohio while mom's menopause is at its peak! And missing you!"
- Classic response to response from Elise 2: [photo included of Elise in car spritzing perfume] "French shower... check. Car shave... check. Trying to make this mess of last night's bar hair look acceptable... damn near impossible."
Spend entire mid-day recovering on couch. By 4 pm finally manage to shower and refresh before running errands. Buy more groceries at Target than my poor 'rexic kitchen has ever seen. Also enthusiastically replenish laundry detergent supply and cleaning products. Hurrah for Downy April Fresh. Home for evening despite invites to several bar soirees (most of which are discovered far late into the night).

4. Sunday: Colts game. [Sorry 'boutcha Houston]. Had planned on group spectator event yet lacked motivation to track anyone down or leave the flat. Sorry everyone. Instead, simultaneously cheer at television while ironing dress shirts and finishing laundry. Manage to escape incident burn-free despite aggravating fumble/interceptions which inevitably occurred during crucial ironing-of-the-collar moments. Begin Phase One of seasonal wardrobe switch by storing most useless summer pieces and unveiling autumn sweaters. Mmmmmm... and Clean Sheet Day.

doppelganger

If I were brunette and more conservatively religious, I could perhaps be confused with this Allison Mitchell.

Alas, I am not, although I hope that she does feel better soon.

One of the multitude of discoveries made by googling oneself. Turns out my name is far short of 'unique' but a few notches above 'run-of-the-mill.' nonetheless, there are me's out there scampering all over this wide planet whilst waving my own familiar moniker as if it were solely theirs.

Little do they know, those other Allison Mitchells, that while they're coaching their parenting seminars and raising organic livestock and managing the world's finance, somewhere in the heart of the nation is someone like me.

p.s. I love this song:
Silence everyday for two weeks
and I know you cry when you think I’m asleep.
You’re so distant, can’t you turn to me?
Am I different?
How should I be?
I love to get a little bit crazy maybe.
I love to get a little bit dirty. Sue me.
Why is it that everytime I’m near you, you’re gonna desert me?
Speak up if you’ve got something to say.
If not I’ll just act as if we’re okay.
I don’t think that we should waste one more night.
Let’s solve this so I can turn down the lights.

Patsy and Edina, Labor Day 2007

Freshly coined vocab:

"SMUM" - smug married undesirable man
"SMUF" - smug married undesirable father
"run-did" - running candid (photo)

Patsy: "Chris is, like, the greatest father ever."
Edina: "Yeah."
Patsy: "And he's, like.... ripped."
Edina: "Yeah... he's a dilf."
Patsy: "Yeah."
Edina: "And I'm about to apply deodorant right in front of him. That's right you big dilfster, come and get it!"

yes.

Genius words from Kevin, as stolen from (I am actually ashamed to admit) facebook:

I love the words menagerie, treat, cavalcade, tricked.

I choose quality over quantity in nearly every aspect of my life.

I hate Nickelback.

If you can't stand the madness, get out of my life.

Keep your laws off my body, and your religion out of my government and chances are we will get along fine.

I hate people that think they are famous/fabulous. You better be able to back that up. Don't get invited to VIP events? Not fabulous. Picture not in a magazine? Not famous. STOP ACTING LIKE IT.

If you want to be my friend, you can't wear sunglasses at night/in bars/clubs/etc.

This world needs more people of our caliber, Kiegs. Love you.

Shitstorm

Tag this along my string of bad luck experiences:

My car was broken into. While they did not steal anything of major importance (you know, the car itself), the burglars did make off with the entirety of my cd collection, my XM radio set (damnit!!!), my cell phone charger cord, and one travel size bottle of CVS brand lemon hand sanitizer. Yes, I am aware of how random that sounds. Bastards.

Also, my neighbors upstairs are having a problem with their AC unit, which is leaking through the ceiling and dripping onto my stairway/banister. Drip. Drip. Drip. And apparently there is nothing maintenance can do with this heat, claiming it is just one of those things everyone is dealing with. Mmmmhmm. Sure. Drip. Drip. I have soaked through 2 towels already in the past 2 hours. Drip. Drip.

Chalk all of this up to the fact that my car, Dorian (after Dorian Gray), is without doubt the victim and receipient of all of my bad karma.

Yet another reason why I do not, in general, enjoy birthdays.

Oh, and this is how I really feel:

LaTrelle: "BECAUSE I THINK MY HEAD IS GONNA EXPLODE ANY MINUTE IF ANY MORE SHIT HITS THE FAN TODAY!"
Ty: "Did you just say 'shit'?"
LaTrelle: "I did. I did! And I said 'damn' today too. And 'hell.' And 'bitch.' And 'dookie.' And you know what? I feel like sayin' more. Damn! Hell! Bitch! Shit! Dookie! DAMN! HELL! BITCH! SHIT! TITTYYYYYYYYYY!"

Mitchell

Awesomely Bad

A most exciting and adventurous day here in Indianapolis. Dragged my sad and exhausted ass to work at 8 am with my full "fuck you, Monday morning!" look, no makeup, and funky hair. Turns out today (unbeknownst to moi) our head boss lady was showing up. Great. So I spend 2 hours madly cleaning our store to make it presentable... yes I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the floor a la Cinderella. Hot. No really.

I was scheduled until one o'clock and had been planning my day around the marvelous nap that would occur at approx 1:42 when I got home. Then I look at the day's schedule and I've somehow been scheduled until 5... even though nobody bothered to a) get my permission to change my hours or b) tell me. Cool, I'm broke anyway, no big deal.

Did I mention that I hand-scrubbed the goddamn floor?

Ok, so we've had nothing but torrential downpours ever since last night. Our mall (the oh-so-classy Castleton Square mall) is under construction and apparently the roof has just been resealed above our store. Which has been super, really. For a week or so we were living under a giant clear plastic tent to protect us from falling 'debris' during the process. Which is not only asthetically pleasing and a great sales perk but also super-reassuring.

No worries, everything is finally finished - so we were told - and some random member of the construction crew stopped by early in the day to make sure that we weren't having any leak issues with the storms. Which I thought was kindof nice, considering.

1:30 pm arrives. My boss and the head boss lady have both skedaddled for some lunch and I am hanging out near the entrance of the store doing my usual Miss America impression ("Good afternoon, ladies! How are you?!? Let me know if you need anything today blah blah blah vomit vomit vomit") when suddenly directly above a giant table of jeans the rain starts to stream in from above in a small but forceful little stream.

I go into my best Action Sally mode and start whisking all of those god-forsaken pairs of denim and khaki jackets onto a nearby counter. You really should have seen it, I was, like, awesome about it. We're talking Speedy Mc-Lightening-bolt. Except within approx. 38 seconds of the initial rain intrusion the goddamn ceiling LITERALLY opens up with a hole a foot wide and suddenly I'm standing in the middle of Niagra Fucking Falls.

So the whole lot of us starts running around shouting orders and dragging racks of clothes away from the blast site and making frantic phone calls to mall maintenance, our bosses (still missing and not answering their cell phones), our bosses' bosses, Jesus, Superman, Hogwarts, and the entire X-Men brigade. We kick out all of our customers, which admittedly was fucking brilliant and wickedly satisfying and shut down the store. Everything was flooded and we basically looked like the refugees you see canoing down Main Street in their drowned towns after hurricanes and tornadoes and whatever.

We finally re-opened 4 hours later, post clean-up and damage control. Oh AND our entire bathroom also broke AND (it really does get better!) exploded unthinkable sewer-spit all over the corner of our stockroom.

It was really a splendid day at the ATL.

Just wanted to brag in case any of you were thinking about bitching about going back to work today or whatever.

I win.

And it took me an entire hour to drive home when it usually takes 25 min or less. So I had that going for me, which was nice.

haha. I know. Don't even fucking say it... "Somebody's got a case of the Mondays!"

Nuggets of Brilliance

Must also share the two best pick-up lines of the summer, both encountered within 24 hours of each other:

1. delivered to me by a man of less than 4 feet: "Do you have any room on your lap?"

2. Chona: "Hey Ben, you want some of this... [dramatic pause]... steak sauce?"

In the spirit of Letterman, in no particular order

1. give me a few drinks and I think I'm the greatest dancer since Paula Abdul.
2. I am not Paula Abdul.
3. Lying awake having just realized that I was filmed during my latest boogey session at this weekend's wedding reception... dear god it is not going to be flattering, I promise you.
4. interesting observation noted during today's post-wedding brunch (aka Group Hangover Meal #1): "You know, everyone was dancing with their drinks in hand last night. I mean usually you put your drink on the table or something and go back and forth from the dance floor... but everybody was dancing with alcohol in their hands last night! I have never seen that in my life!"
5. things get super exciting when you are double-fisting bottles of beer because they have threatened last call and you're working your "Ice Ice Baby" magic with the mother-of-the-bride.
6. I am going straight to hell and cannot believe I have not yet been wrathfully smited. (smited? spelling?) I am not the person to sit next to during a wedding if you are looking for reverence, appropriateness, or romantic/emotional Hallmark moments.
7. Home Shopping Network. Jewelry special: rings.
8. Drove all the way home with the wedding gift still in the trunk of my car. damnit.
9. Going back to topics #1-3, I think I may have recreated The Carlton Dance last night... and by that I mean drunkenly attempted Fresh Prince tribute choreography that probably most closely resembled an epileptic fit. Sweet Lord please do not let that be what the videographer captured.
10. went home to celebrate mama's birthday, Mitchell Mexican Fiesta style, complete with pinata and mariachi singers. Desperately wanted to take pinata into the backyard and blow it up with several rounds of ammunition, execution style... because that's just the Mitchell way. why be satisfied with a blindfold and a baseball bat??

Death at a Funeral

Martha: "Simon?"

Simon: "Simon!"

Martha: "Simon?"

Simon: "Simon!"

Martha: "Si?"

Simon: ".... Mon!"

greatest film in years.

prepare yourself, the Brits are back.

Oh grasses of sleep, bitterly sweet grasses of oblivion...

Find myself awake, having tossed aside efforts at sleep since waking at 4:30. Made myself a cheese and pickle sandwich, an old favorite that harkens back to junior high packed lunches and reminds me of the Jenny Joseph poem that has unfortunately spawned an entire sub-culture of tacky red and purple hat societies.

I fear what will become of me should old age grasp me in its tethers. Frailty, loneliness, and helpless dependence upon others have never been appealing, not now and least of all in the potential twilight of my life. I see how the elderly are regarded, neglected, and scorned... what chance have we - the eager young generations stomping in our stalls - of changing anything by the time we hit the social security years?

The ripple effect, I remind myself... small acts of kindness and the ability to gradually cause hope and change.

I disappoint myself with my lack of service these past few months. There is so much to be done, so much I could do. Even if in tiny increments.

I have never liked birthdays. Mine quickly approaches and perhaps is the reason for this uprising wave of anxiety. It seems as though birthdays are inevitably a disappointment... the one day dedicated supposedly to the glorification of nothing less than one's own existence is bound to fall short of expectation. I find I prefer smaller celebrations, intimate circles to surround and hold each other dearly in a shared and cherished faith in one another, a love made sacred by virtue of mistakes and forgivenesses and the acknowledgment of truth and human ineptitude. We are all failures, ultimately, in some form or another, and therefore beautifully united.

Which reminds me, I have a letter to mail.

_________________________________

My soul is dark - Oh! quickly string
The harp I yet can brook to hear,
And let thy gentle fingers fling
Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear.
If in this heart a hope be dear,
That sound shall charm it forth again:
If in these eyes there lurk a tear,
'Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain.

But bid the strain be wild and deep,
Nor let thy notes of joy be first:
I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,
Or else this heavy heart will burst,
for it hath been by sorrow nursed,
And ached in sleepless silence long;
And now 'tis doomed to know the worst,
And break at once - or yield to song.

Lord Byron

worth 1000 words?

my weekend:

1. Wanker Sisters

[yes, she is sporting the 'Tom Selleck tribute' mustache and sequined anatomical bodysuit... hot.]

2. First ever White Castle experience. I hope never to return. Ever.

page 723

splendid accomplishments today:

1. read Harry Potter, one sitting, as intended. wasn't asleep anyway so figured, 'why the hell not?' and started it at one in the morning. finished by 7 and off to work by 8.
2. at work by 8.
3. cried while reading Harry Potter... a lot.
4. work
5. eye doctor appointment in Kokomo for fresh contacts and a new best friend... we talked for an hour and 15 minutes... it's hot outside... we do that.
6. approved for speeding ticket deferral program. massive relief.
7. continued reign in the Land of Awesome.

mmmmmm...

rare confession: today I love my life.

the kind of day you wish you could splice and put on some sort of glass mircroscope plate and look at in the future as if to say, yeah... that's how it was... and it was great.

home and content and feeling accomplished and happy and proud to be myself and giddy with the knowledge of unconditional love and beyond that the joy of being so damn happy with people like my brother and my friends... and yes, I spent over 4 hours in the kitchen and wore an apron and heels and created a beautiful evening event and dinner to be reckoned with... and it was good.

really.

a good day.