Can I recant... the Fannypack?

Many years ago I wrote an essay somewhere regarding fanny packs. I cannot find it now, but I think I have to recant my stance. I recently wore a fanny pack to the zoo and I gotta tell you ... it was not only convenient, stylish, but an eye grabber!

It didn't hurt that it said "Fiesta Texas" on it and used to belong to my Gram. I could grab things with two hands, pay for lunch without setting down a kid or a soda. Amazing. And now, I'm thinking, these things could really take off with the right style.

I think Walmart already has the one up on me. Never say never: lesson learned.

let's talk about music... seriously

okay ... i am desperate. i need new music.

this is a contest. the winner will be handsomely rewarded.

first, read this.

this is a classic, general list of music that has saved my life.

with everything that has happened, and my general "uncoolness"... i need to find some new music that will rock my soul like the above playlist.

if you can help me out, i will reward you. i am not just saying that. i will send you something amazing.

and go ... i need you to rock my soul. hard.

send submissions/questions to info@hitchcockandco.com

THANK YOU. you just might save a life.

for more details on my music loves, scan the blog. you'll find all kind of hints of the artists i love.

leftovers

i am a fan of Chuck Palahniuk. no question. did you know he wrote a (comic) sequel to Fight Club 10 years after the original Fight Club? yup. i didn't have any idea. but he did. more details are here for those of you who are interested. anyway, the quote above is worth talking about. yes, we all die. we do. and there is no rule or guide or book that says when our time will come. but when it does, it comes fast.

i guess i think it's noble and admirable to leave something behind that will live forever. even the most sparkling personalities eventually become shopworn. but why the goal to leave something that will live forever? the best pieces of literature are timely and within context. i was always bugged (and consequently, horrible at history) because i had to test on the the annals of the reigns of English kings or the 14th century Anglo-French chronicles. they don't mean much to me. not because i don't think history isn't important. i just don't see the point in memorizing or analyzing something i can read in a book SHOULD i need to know something about it for one day of my life. it is just useless. (insert jeers and intellectual criticism here.)

there are so many other things i need to remember just to survive. we are saturated--inundated with information. it is impossible for me to store thousands of terabytes of available information in my brain. let's face it. i have a hard enough time remembering my grocery list. birthdays. to feed the dog.

so Chuck, I agree. if you can create something that will live forever, i think it's super cool. like when robots rule the earth or Jesus comes ... and everyone is still talking about Tyler Durden, you've accomplished something amazing. and Fight Club might just qualify. it was epic. for me, however, i am content with being remembered for a few kinda cool things i did for maybe two years after i die. just a few good things i did. like that one 7-layer dip i made for the Superbowl or when i picked a perfect NCAA tournament bracket.

i don't know. i have a point. our schools are teaching things that kids don't understand because they cannot grasp the time or circumstances surrounding the events. they need applicable information. they need financial advice. they need to learn to treat each other better. they need to learn to explore and create their own path. they need to understand that the times are changing (thank you, Bob Dylan) and marriage isn't the only answer after high school. that men and women are equal. that everyone should follow their dreams.

that's it. that's really all i am going to try to remember. i mean, when was the last time i had to find the foci of an ellipse? never.

we've got tonight, who needs tomorrow?

i am looking for another job (either a second job or a happier one) and every interview seems to go really, really awesome. until i think about it later. i've determined i turn into Buddy the Elf at every job interview.

interviewer: "have you ever worked in a call center?"

me: "no, but i love them!"

interviewer: "why?"

me: "well there was a guy named Mike that called me like three years ago and he was going to help me with my credit... i can't remember the name of the company ... but he was THE NICEST GUY. i didn't use their services but i told my family about how great this guy was. they all thought i needed to get out more because i was falling in love with someone who wanted to fix my credit, but no, he was great. i mean, he called exactly when i asked and he was so, so, so sweet.  i can't remember the name of the company .... "

interviewer: blank stare

me: BIG SMILE "i just love call centers."

if it's over the phone, i put on my sharon-who-wears-scarves voice. "hello, my heavens Robert we've been playing phone tag, ahhahh ha ha ha ahhha ha (deep breath) ahha ha."

anyway, i hate myself. and i have to not remember those stories. that i experience. and am probably made fun of later by the companies i apply at. but at least only me, i'm the only one i know that knows what happened and so i'm not really embarrassed.

so. here is goes. i'm in a funk. like a i'm going to throw the dog out the window, punch someone in the nose, cry for three hours, sleep for 12, become clinically insane, losing the will to shower funk. and i have an antidepressant and i know depression is very serious. there is nothing you can do when you fall into it. there is nothing anyone can do. and it's an incredibly scary place. but it gets better, eventually. maybe months later. i want anyone reading this to know, that i understand and i am not minimizing the situation. i struggle with it. alot. and this last bought has been over 6 months of it. so the fact that i am ever sitting upright is a win.

SO. what would you do (with the means you have) if you had one week left to live? you can't travel to Rome (unless you have the money in your account today and a jet) and it has to be something you really would do. just one week from wherever you may be sitting, starting this Sunday thru next. what would you do?

my, my, what a mess was made

today is weird. like, i get veteran's day and memorial day because it's an opportunity to show gratitude, remember the sacrifices people have made for lazy, greedy, selfish people like me. but today, it's like 'never forget'. why? nothing good came about it? it was a horrible terrible day. please forget, not forgive or understand or ignore, but maybe we could forget.

if my brain didn't forget the heartache, the image of every person i want to help, every sad child i see, every person struggling, every bombing, act of terrorism, or war, i would be. well, i guess what i am. depressed and contemplating what is it all for. for an investigation into another pro sport? for another worthless scandal, which we will all certainly give plenty of attention to, for even longer than most did during 9/11.

today, i choose to forget. forget those evil bastards. i won't give them any notoriety because they destroyed lives. there are children who are reminded every day. every day about 9/11. who am i to tell them never forget. can we have a slogan like ONE COUNTRY or STOP BEING ASSHOLES or WHY ARE PEOPLE ONLY NICE WHEN PEOPLE ARE IN DANGER. it's kind of sad that we take a slogan and throw a few things up and say never forget. insulting even.

i am over the NFL domestic violence. it's important if it can stop things. however, it happens in every neighborhood. and there is no investigation or help to a lot of people. it's so lame. so lame.

i don't even know anymore.
i want to forget today.
maybe i will.
maybe we all should.

we rally against things we hate so much harder than things we love and believe in. our past memories are just stories we've told our self. how can i know? how can i know anything anymore?

i just feel like crying. we're a capitalist country that is doomed.

Bloggerrhea

forgive me if i repeat myself, this bloggerrhea has been going on for five and a half years. i am sure this is not the first time i am repeating exactly the same thing, or that i have contradicted something i've written. but i have a little secret for you: people change. opinions, perceptions, beliefs change over time. we grow up, experience more. we change. and that's okay. as long as you really believe in something ... right now, today... i don't care what you decide tomorrow. some people never change. those are the super old dudes at the gym who still think they "got it". the ones that spend no time with their families and go get a beer. they never grow up or change. they rot.

i digress. shocker.

you'll find that in my darkest hours, there is writing. it's my vice. not to say i have hit rock bottom. no, there is still plenty of light, and plenty of other horrible things that could easily happen, but no. we're close. heartbroken. devastated. hopeless, even.

but writing helps me work stuff out. i write for me, particularly during bad times to get my mind right. release the nonsense so i can move on. it's nothing grand and i will no longer allow my fingers to use letters to puke out feel good shit like, "This is will all make sense one day," or "This is just one snag. You'll be great." I used to like those quotes. Now, today, I am changing my stance on both.

This will all make sense one day.  people usually say this during times of crisis or when people are having horrible bad luck, and it's a lot of darkness and tears and usually, loss. It won't ever make sense. But it does become part of you and the person you become, how you approach the world. You'll be great. Dismissing our weakest moments is not okay.

I think in my very naive view of the world, I believed all those douchers that told me that. I just keep waiting. But fuck it! I don't think anything is going to make sense. ever. and how could it possibly, and why would it? and why didn't i have a brain to dismiss this bullshit theory to cope sooner? terrible, wonderful, tragic, amazing moments won't just make sense one day. why spend your life trying to figure it out? what does this all mean? oooh... it doesn't mean shit. it means you have some bad ass luck and you're a terrible judge of character. or you are an unbelievable person 90% of the time, so this 10% dick mode you have, we're going to treat you as unbelievable. but there is no crazy, mathematical equation you'll solve one day. a nervous break down can't be an integer that is the missing on the axis to complete the parabola.

39

i am feeling melancholy.
it's cold, it's dark, it makes me weary.
my calendar confirms it's february.

39 things i did on my 39th birthday:

1. made cupcakes.
2. got a pedicure.
3. ate a steak.
4. drank some beer.
5. drank some whiskey.
6. cried when my baby sister gave me a thoughtful gift.
7. cried when The Teenager made me breakfast, surprised me with the perfect gift, and spent the entire day with me.
8. cried when my baby sang me happy birthday, several times.
9. ignored the terrifying thoughts of old age.
10. cried when i received a card from my dad that started with "hey baby girl" in his immaculate handwriting.
11. was humbled.
12. ate gross pizza.
13. ate delicious cinnamon ice cream.
14. went to the arcade and played games.
15. watched the Olympics.
16. kissed someone.
17. got happy birthday messages from my favorite people.
18. accepted all the love i was offered.
19. missed my grandpa.
20. saw three of my five nieces and nephews.
21. missed my sisters.
22. drove to see the frozen water falls with my girls.
23. accidentally grabbed the relief society president's boob.
24. ate red velvet cake.
25. made jewelry for a family who lost their dad/husband.
26. ate butterfinger ice cream.
27. ate 18 butterfinger hearts.
28. watched it snow.
29. blew out candles.
30. took a nap.
31. was grateful.
32. laughed.
33. painted my fingernails.
34. marveled at my wrinkles.
35. didn't answer my phone once.
36. vowed to make this last year in my 30's count.
37. realized 2x7=14 so 2/7/14 was an amazing day to have a birthday.
38. wished garth brooks a happy birthday.
39. celebrated all the good in my life.

my arms have all i can carry. i don't know why i resisted this february.