Tag Archives: Mike

Suds in the _____; _____ of names.

I’ve developed such an appreciation for people who don’t let unnecessarily negative criticism affect them. If you know me or have been reading this for a while, then you can probably guess that I am always working on that. The only thing that I still struggle with, however, is disregarding negative judgements from people who I admire or care about. I always want to impress those people, and make them proud of me, so I feel like I must respond to their every criticism, when I actually don’t. People will always tell me what they think is best, and what they think will make me happy. And that’s great, because many times, I agree with them. But they do not KNOW what will make me happy, or what is right. But when I know that something will make me happy or otherwise, and someone else is trying to tell me differently, well I can’t just listen. I can’t. I am the only one who will directly deal with those feelings, so I am the only one whose opinion matters in those circumstances. If it turns out that they were right, then I have no one to blame but myself. But if they were wrong? If I listened to someone who supposedly knew me better than I knew myself, and they were wrong about happiness, and as a result I was unhappy because I listened to their advice? Well, then I will be a little pissed at myself for not taking my own advice, but I will mostly be pissed at them for giving me shitty advice. And I will blame them. It’s what I do. I blame. I have to work on that.
I made a bucket list, because I think it’s cool. It’s good to imagine yourself as the person that you will create yourself into…not only does it give you something to look forward to, but it gives you goals, and inspiration. I have a Wall of Stuff (if you get this reference then I love you) where I put the clichéd ticket stubs, pictures, letters, and postcards, but I also put pictures of things that I will one day do, or places that I will go, and people that I will become. That wall makes me sad sometimes, because I look at all of the wonderful things of my past that I miss oh (ehem. oh) so much, and I am just genuinely sad that those times have ended. But then, I see the pictures of the places and people and things of my future, and I am just inspired. I am inspired and excited and renewed, and I just feel so happy that I know I have a future. If everything in this world fails me, all I will have is myself, and as long as such wonderful things as the futures in those pictures exist, then I know I will be fine.
I made a bucket list a few months ago. It’s just the verbal presentation of the ideas that have always been in my head, so I figured, hey- I love lists. I’ll make another list. Then someone close to me told me that bucket lists are stupid. And I was like, “Oh, of course they are. Why did I make a bucket list?! They are so stupid!” But then I realized that I don’t think they are stupid at all. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, and if you can change mine, then go for it. I’m pretty malleable in the hands of logic and reason. But if not, then my opinion is the only one that will determine my happiness, so mine is right as far as I am concerned. Thus, ladies and gentlemen of this strange ball of chaos that we call Earth, I present to you, my bucket list.
(Note: This is just how I wrote it, and I did not edit anything from how it was written when it was originally intended for only my eyes. I promise.)
(Another Note: Things will always be added to this bucket list. That’s how they work! THEY GROW!!!)
  1. Write a book.
  2. Make a seriously awesome work of art that I proudly display somewhere in my home.
  3. Bungee jump.
  4. Sky dive.
  5. Go on an adventure to climb some real rocks.
  6. Run a marathon.
  7. Go to India.
  8. See the Northern Lights. YES I KNOW it’s a cliché. But…you know…I believe that the truth lives in the clichés.
  9. Learn how to play the guitar. I think everyone should be able to play the guitar. When you can truthfully say, “Yeah, I play the guitar,” then you automatically gain like 50 life points.
  10. Have a real job that I genuinely enjoy.
  11. Go scuba diving. Finally.
  12. Ski in Switzerland again.
  13. Learn how to ride a motorcycle.
  14. Learn how to save money, then apply that newfound knowledge to my life.
  15. Have a permanent residence in Spain or Italy. Mint green Vespa with tan leather seat and big black furry dog required.
  16. Learn how to play the drums.
  17. Wear the same t shirt every day for an entire summer. This does, however, exclude The Clearwater and Special events. This is thanks to UT. So, thanks.
  18. This one is inappropriate.
  19. This one is also inappropriate.
  20. Go to Mardi Gras in NOLA.
  21. Be a mother and give my children badass names.
  22. Write something awesome that someone else will read.
  23. Dye my hair an unnatural color.
  24. Be in a movie.
  25. See Rufus Wainwright perform again.
  26. Take dance classes again.
  27. Go on a kayaking/rafting adventure vacation and pretend to live in an L.L.Bean catalogue.
  28. Eat a lot of grapefruit.
  29. Record every day for one year.
  30. Not wear makeup or hair products for one month straight. (obviously excludes deodorant, nail polish, and perfume…but no tinted moisturizer.)
  31. Learn another language. Italian and Spanish do not count.
  32. Sing karaoke.
  33. Always be able to run 2 miles straight through.
  34. Bike across the US or some part of Europe.
  35. Travel on the cheap. Biking, perhapsably. #35 will suffice if done luxuriously (as in slowly- no time limit. luxuriating in time!).
  36. Splurge on a pair of power jeans. They will be known as my awesome pants. And when I wear them, I will become exponentially more awesome. If that’s even possible.
  37. Go on a volunteer/mission trip. Or join the Peace Corps. Same thing.
  38. Go to a Pride. Preferably NYC Pride.
  39. This one is also inappropriate.
  40. Be vegan for one month. Or six. Or twelve. Or however long I want.
  41. Buy a really expensive pair of sunglasses that I love, regardless of whether or not anyone else likes them.
  42. Cut my hair off. All of it. Well, not ALL of it. But a lot of it.
  43. Follow my 37 rules for parenting. Or at least read them occasionally to remember what it’s like to be a child.


Mike: *yelling from upstairs* Dad, I’m going in the shower now…just letting you know! Okay?!

Dad: Uh, okay?

Mom: What the hell is wrong with that child?

Dad: Nothing. He’s asking for permission. That’s the balls.

Me: *playing this song* Oh my God this is the saddest song; it makes me cry.

Dad: Oh but not as sad as the Dixie Chicks *begins singing You Were Mine, completely out of sync with this song*

Me: *pause song* Please shut up.

Dad: What?! That was a great mashup!

(It was not a mashup. Smh.)

Happy Easter

I am starting a little segment on this blog titled “Shit My Family Says.” It’s not just things that one member of my family says, but all of the freaking stupid things that we all say to one another. At least 5 times a day, someone says something that I just really think needs to be shared with the world. Today there have been a few, but these three really seemed worthy of being included:

I guess it was a booty call. – Nonni referring to when someone butt-dialed her.

I really wish one of you sons of bitches would just get rich as shit so I could come live with you. -My father

My father: Your makeup looks so nice today.

Me: Thanks, but I didn’t do anything differently.

My father: Well, you know sometimes you look like a cocaine addict, but you don’t today. You look really nice.

Don’t worry. There will be so, so, so many more.

Charlie Brown and Amazing Hats

This past weekend, the middle school performed You’re A Good Man Charlie Brown, and Mike was Charlie Brown. My parents took some video clips that I want to upload but for some reason it is taking way too long, like hours. I may try to upload them later but for now, there are no videos. Sam was one of the lighting people (the other was his friend Max) and they did a great job. Those lights went off, and they went on, and it was spectacular. Haha, just kidding, Sam. Nice job. Of course I had to watch the performance at least once, so I went on Saturday evening. It was nice, but there is no plot, like no story. It was just telling you about the characters of the peanuts and not necessarily about one specific event. But it was cute.

And on Saturday morning, I was feeling a lot better so I called Yulia and met her downtown. I rode my bike to the school for the bus, and as I was locking up my bike, the bus pulled up. It was perfect timing. Then I rode the bus downtown and met Yulia in front of Manor. There was this awesome concert in the piazza of these teenagers performing this Spanish music to raise money for a trip for some charity to London, so we hung out and watched them for a while. Then we went to Manor and shopped around in the men’s department. It was fun. I bought the coolest hat known to mankind…seriously. Then as we were walking around we shoved leaves in the holes of my hat and in Yulia’s headband. I felt like the Jolly Green Giant, but it was fun =] .
Dad, Mom, and Nonni were at Manor so we got a ride to school where we went to the Spring Arts Festival. Some of the stuff there was seriously A MAZ ING. Like, ahhhh. Yulia’s church was unbelievably cool beyond words, and this one girl made a photography slide show to the song Teenage Wasteland by The Who, and I watched it twice. It made me want to like scream with happiness. I think that’s what people want from art in a show like that, to evoke some sort of response. After we saw the artwork, I rode my bike home and went to the first showing of YAGMCB.
Awlright. I’m going to attempt to not spend all night on my laptop and actually go to sleep before midnight. Love yaaa =]

A Great Day To Be Alive

Riding in the gentle morning heat, tiny rocks fly up the tires and flick my bare legs. The sun is streaming down on us. Skidding to a stop by the field of giant rolls of yellow hay, then climbing through the low brush to find the perfect July berries. The sky is clear and blue against the golden fields which are lined by the lush, vibrant green trees that form a canopy over the main road. Thorns make tiny scratches on my hands and legs, and my fingers turn purple from the bursted drupelets. The thorns hurt too much, he tells me to stay back. How can he get through the thorns so quickly? He mustn’t be able to get hurt. Nothing can stop him. The woven wooden baskets are soon full of berries and a few tiny green bugs that live in them.

Before mounting our bicycles to ride home, we taste the tart, sweet berries and a million tiny seeds explode onto our tongues and get stuck between our teeth. We ride along a short bridge built over the creek. We carry our bicycles off the road, beneath the bridge, and stop for a short swim. Splashing through the cool water as it runs over smooth pebbles, calming and refreshing to sedate the midday heat. I splash him with my purple fingers. Muddy clay at the bottom squishes between my toes. Continuing our gentle ride home, the warm breeze dries us off. Passing the ice cream parlor, the church, the baseball fields, a patch of violets and Queen Anne’s lace.

We are greeted by the white house with navy shutters, and the front door is propped open. Brilliant flowers blanket the grass in front of the house and hang from the roof of the porch. Bees and butterflies flit among the flowers, bringing life to their simple beauty. I turn on the hose, and sprinkle the flowers. They must be very dry on such a hot day. The water droplets on the flowers gleam in the sunlight, sparkling from a distance. I spray him with the hose, and we laugh and play in the grass. We must be careful to not spray the house, though, because we cannot get the baby birds wet. The straw wreath next to the door houses a nest of robins. The mother is away, the babies must be scared of me. I jump to get a glimpse of the baby birds in their nest, they are finally growing feathers! As we enter the house, he makes his way down the stairs. He is ready for a swim, but decides to help us with the blackcap berries instead. We all sing along to the music as the sun shines through the big windows in the kitchen.

And it’s a great day to be alive
I know the sun’s still shining when I close my eyes
There’s some hard times in the neighborhood
But why can’t every day be just this good?

Oh, and it is a great day to be alive. She greets us with a kiss and asks about our morning as we all sort the blackcaps together. We should call them to see if they would like to come enjoy the blackcaps, see if they would like a swim. Waiting for their arrival, we lay in the grass among the purple and yellow Johnny jump-ups, talking about the few white, fluffy clouds. Although young, I realize how special this is. How special are my house, my family, the flowers, the sunshine. How beautiful.

Our house is soon empty, everyone is enjoying the heat. Playing water games in the pool until the late afternoon when they call us for some blackcaps. We grab a towel from the wooden beams in the pool house and make our way to the deck behind the house. Waiting for each of us is vanilla bean ice cream with warm blackcap syrup, fresh berries, and mint leaves on the wood picnic table with peeling red paint. Cool and sweet, refreshing in the summer twilight. My purple fingers are wrinkly from the water, my wet hair drips down my back to the red bench beside the picnic table. Quietly listening to the adults talk, we decide to organize a game of kickball or hiding in the dark. We children can simply not agree on how to play these games, so we swim. Bats fly above our heads as we swim in the dark. We dive beneath the surface to avoid the painful sting of the beautiful damsel flies as they grace the top of the water.

My friends leave after we say goodbye. I sit and listen to them talk under the white twinkling lights which are strung between the trees. Fireflies remind me that the magic of such a beautiful day is not over. He strums the guitar. Not any song in particular, but a culmination of lovely notes. In the cool black night, the fiery heat of the morning seems so distant. My fingers are still purple. It was a great day to be alive.