So…another Hallmarked Holiday approaches and I have yet to spend my year’s savings on a pair of illegal crystallized carbon earrings or on fragrant, bottled liquid gold to validate my love for my mother. Isn’t her love for me supposed to be unconditional? Since when do I have to sell my kidney on the black market to afford a “decent” present to display my appreciation and love for her? When have meaningless material things replaced good ol’ fashioned homemade cards created out of love, sweat, tears, cardstock, crayons and glue sticks? What about those soft, colorful flowers created by hand out of intertwined pipe cleaner and tissue paper? Who cares about farmed roses that wilt in four days...pipe cleaner stands time!
In truth, I accidentally called Mom a Sunday too early and spouted “I miss you, I love you, I’ve been so busy, Happy Mum Day” sonnets, only to have her call me a few hours later that day laughing, calling me a dork and telling me that “Mother’s Day is next Sunday silly! Hahaha, I love you!” Yes...I suck as a daughter.
Now, having an extra week to decide on a love token because I’m an idiot, I perused sappy cards with gooey words and poems, I thought about 1-800-Flowers, I even took a gander online and thought to myself “What could I buy her that she doesn’t already have?” Then the buzzer went off in my head...EEEEEEEHHHH! All wrong answers; A gift should always just come from the heart, not be forced out of me by trick of clever marketing schemes. I had fallen victim to this hallmark day and an accompanying feeling of guilt at not sending my mother a happy, shiny gift.
To be fair, my mother is less than impressed by extravagant crap gifts spouting fountains of golden love showers; she is beyond touched by the more meaningful and thought intensive displays.
So, I have decided to regress back to my youthful days of scrawling “I Love You Mom” across a sheet of crunchy, bright blue construction paper with pudgy fingers and a Crayola Marker. Along with this, adult me will (have) put together a compellation of digital photos and videos of us together over the past few years into a fun DVD format for her viewing pleasure…may she tear up and smile!
Of course…this will all be late and definitely will not arrive on time for an early, crisp spring morning, Sunday read, however I am confident that regardless, my Mother will still love me and all my inadequacies at calling too early and at sending a gift too late…after all it is the thought that ultimately counts…not the gift.
There is a girl on the Manhattan bound 7 train. Mouth agape, her glazed over, spaced out gaze burns holes into a Jameson advertisement that reads, “Maybe people like Jameson because the ads give you something to stare at when you don’t know where to look.” It is apparent this ad facilitates just that, as her vacant stare registers nothing and she wanders off into her imagination somewhere to get tangled in a web of her own thoughts and grey matter. The headphones glued into her skull appear to be the only connection into her reality. This girl is me.
At that moment I was probably trying to brew up clever quips to dazzle readers with for my first blog, but when tuning back into the mainstream frequency to find the old man across from me giving me back the same blank, open-mouthed stare, I wiped the drool off my chin and realized this is the best I’ve got; a list of my oddities that fuel my purpose of this blog.
I am:
-That girl that loves to write A LOT…about nothing…like Seinfeld…in written form…with out cool characters…or a boyfriend with a name that rhymes with a male body part.
-That girl with too many scattered thoughts in her head to formulate one clear sentence that relates to a common topic.
-That girl that stays up late by mistake, always with the intention to get up early and ultimately fails every time...it is 3:57a.m right now.
-That girl who is fashionably late…most of the time…and sometimes fashionably dressed.
-That girl who blast her electronic, hard bassed music WAY too loud.
-That girl who talks about inappropriate subjects and the most inopportune moments.
-That girl that is hard on everyone and hardest on herself.
-That girl that swears entirely too much…you may still manage to take her home to Mom...sometime…well maybe never…I’m still single.
-The girl with infinite belief that I can create and accomplish anything in my life…work in progress.
-That girl who will not only tell you ‘you have something in your teeth,’ but will help you pick it out if need be.
-That girl who loves cats…and astrology…what’s your sign? It’s totally relevant!!
-That girl that loves foreign men yet hates that they are notoriously shitty tippers…and that they eventually always leave the country…to live…permanently.
-That girl that hates drinking so much…yet works in a bar…as a bartender…serving drinks...to myself.
-That girl that finds it hilarious that no one ever talks on the subway, yet shifts uncomfortably when someone stares or flashes me a toothy grin.
-That girl who will say, talk, write, comment on just about ANY topic regardless of its subject matter...I have a lot to say...stay tuned.
-That girl, who uses untidy, poorly constructed short sentences and worse overall syntax and diction to formulate masterpieces worthy of this blog…that I heart…very much.
You have probably run into me before, or at least a version of said-type female. That girl that caused you to lean over to a friend and whisper or sparked a ‘note-to-self’ moment, then you roll your eyes, tilt your head and say “Oh, your one of those girls!”
It’s OK. I’m guilty of the same act, but never without admitting that I can frequently be labeled in the same category; Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you That Girl…in this case…which I will often refer to as…myself.
I am a walking, self-inflicted, contradiction. I am the polar opposite of myself a.k.a. a tad strain of schizophrenic…maybe. But, what the hell, it keeps life interesting and I always seem to have great stories to tell.
