Why I Heart Supertramp

It has been a while since I have had the time to sit down and write...though my lack of free time to devote to this hasn't been a bad thing.  I've spent the last month or so writing more music, focusing on time with family, getting acquainted with my roomie, and making up for lost time.  Today, my son requested a very special song that is near and dear to me:  "Breakfast in America" by Supertramp.

I get heckled when most people hear that I am a big fan of Supertramp.  "Are you serious?"

     Yes.  Yes I am.  Very much.

     "Why?"
     I am so glad you asked.

Let us first distinguish the listeners from the listeners.

Most people listen to music.  They bob their heads along thinking about what lies in the day ahead...paying little to no mind about what the artist is actually trying to convey.  Then there are those that listen.  One of the most amazing things about music is decoding what message lies within.  Not only decoding the message, as it applies to its author, but as it applies to each listener...all the while with the understanding that the message translated by one, will not necessarily be the same message translated by the next. 

The thing that amazes me about Supertramp is the fact that many of their melodies aren't theoretically supportive of their lyrics.  In addition to the fact that they wrote about history, philosophy, and real-world topics that most pop bands at the time wouldn't touch.

Goodbye Stranger:  Basically about not being ready to settle, but having fun settling in for just one night.  Who could sing a song in which it's basis is surrounding the beauty of the one night stand??  Supertramp.

It was an early morning yesterday

I was up before the dawn

And I really have enjoyed my stay

But I must be moving on

Like a king without a castle

Like a queen without a throne

I'm an early morning lover

And I must be moving on

Now I believe in what you say

Is the undisputed truth

But I have to have things my own way

To keep me in my youth

Like a ship without an anchor

Like a slave without a chain

Just the thought of those sweet ladies

Sends a shiver through my veins

And I will go on shining

Shining like brand new

I'll never look behind me

My troubles will be few

Goodbye stranger it's been nice

Hope you find your paradise

Tried to see your point of view

Hope your dreams will all come true

Goodbye Mary, Goodbye Jane

Will we ever meet again

Feel no sorrow, feel no shame

Come tomorrow, feel no pain

Now some they do and some they don't

And some you just can't tell

And some they will and some they won't

With some it's just as well

You can laugh at my behavior

That'll never bother me

Say the devil is my savior

But I don't pay no heed

And I will go on shining

Shining like brand new

I'll never look behind me

My troubles will be few

Goodbye stranger it's been nice etc...

Casual Conversations:  A dead-end relationship, barely hanging on...the melody of this tune sounds like a perfect song for a stroll in the park on a Sunday.

It doesn't matter what I say

You never listen anyway

Just don't know what you're looking for

Imagination's all I have

But ever then you say it's bad

Just can't see why we disagree

Casual conversations how they bore me

They go on and on endlessly

But no matter what I say

You ignore me anyway

I might as well talk in my sleep (I could weep)

You try to make me feel so small

Until there's nothing left at all

Why go on? Just hoping that we'll get along

There's no communication left between us

But is it me or you who's to blame?

There's nothing I can do, yes you're fading out of view

Don't know if I feel joy or pain

And now it's all been said

If you must leave then go ahead

Should feel sad

But I really believe that I'm glad

Yes I really believe that I'm glad

Take the Long Way Home:  A man taking the long way home because he can't stand his marriage anymore.  A position 75% of us have likely experienced at one point or another...yet this song sounds so magical and uplifting.

So you think you're a Romeo

playing a part in a picture-show

Take the long way home

Take the long way home

Cos you're the joke of the neighborhood

Why should you care if you're feeling good

Take the long way home

Take the long way home

But there are times that you feel you're part of the scenery

all the greenery is comin' down, boy

And then your wife seems to think you're part of the

furniture oh, it's peculiar, she used to be so nice.

When lonely days turn to lonely nights

you take a trip to the city lights

And take the long way home

Take the long way home

You never see what you want to see

Forever playing to the gallery

You take the long way home

Take the long way home

And when you're up on the stage, it's so unbelievable,

unforgettable, how they adore you,

But then your wife seems to think you're losing your sanity,

oh, calamity, is there no way out?

Does it feel that you life's become a catastrophe?

Oh, it has to be for you to grow, boy.

When you look through the years and see what you could

have been oh, what might have been,

if you'd had more time.

So, when the day comes to settle down,

Who's to blame if you're not around?

You took the long way home

You took the long way home...........

I wanted a better understanding of the group and their roots.  Apparently, the band chose their name after a book that was published in 1908 by William Henry Davies called "Autobiography of a Supertramp."  A 'tramp' is a person who travels on foot from place to place, especially a vagabond living on occasional Jobs or gifts of money or food.  Given the frequent rotation of band members, I'd say the title was much appropriate.  I ordered the book, and it was a great depiction of early life in the United States just before the railway industry lit up.  

Though many of the songs suggest reality; the melody and Davies'/Hodgson's soprano-esque vocals start any day like no other.  They casually remind us that life isn't perfect, however living any life at all is reason enough to relish in the upbeat of the opportunity in which it brings.

I Heart Supertramp.

A Provoked and Disturbed Intellect, c. 2011

I visited the DIA with my friend Lee today.  Pretty amazing to submerge yourself into the intellect of our world, which hardly seems worth mentioning when I compare it to the day to day drab of ho-hum suburbia.  I took note to research several pieces in depth upon my return home; only to find that the true analysis behind the pieces were nothing as I had imagined.

Cupid & Psyche, c. 1710/1720
Giovanni Battista Foggini

I took a keen personal interest in this piece.  The story that birthed the tale Beauty and the Beast...only there really was no Beast.  I digress...Psyche only wanted to see Cupid for what he really was.  When she did, he left her.  They got back together once she made all of these personal sacrifices...in addition to giving away a portion of her beauty.  The more I become familiar with this great tale, the more I find a commonality in comparison to relationships today.  All seriousness aside, the representation in this piece doesn't exactly offer up what I would consider to be a match made in heaven.  My god, is she bedding her nephew?  Sorry if I've offended you Foggini.  Your brilliance shines from the folds in the fabric.

_____________________________________________

Concert in a Garden, c. 1750
Filipo Falciatore

This piece is by far the most interesting we ran across that day (in my humble opinion).  The Concert in the Garden shows exactly that; a concert in a garden.  We found it especially interesting that while society's charmers were fanning away in the sun, singing songs of fancy...three people in the painting appear to be middle class:  the woman holding her baby on the balcony (Michael Jackson style), the peasant at work, and the man in upperclass clothing revealing a look of what appears to be disgust.  We had some conversation as to what this man was so disgusted about and agreed that he was simply agitated by the fact that those surrounding him have very little knowledge of what its like to put in a hard day's work.  How it must be nice to appreciate only the finest things in life and act as if your experience might have contributed to the pomegranate juice that took eight weeks to produce.  It sure is comforting to know that the economical/political divide that exists today was present from the beginning.  I digress...this blog just wouldn't be the same without an injection of humor.   What else could this man possibly be thinking?  Here are a few thoughts that come to mind:

• "I cannot believe that bitch stood me up last night"
• "I could really use that cane, my back is killing me!"
• "This isn't a concert, it's a bloody picnic!"
• "Bitches be crazy"
• "Its getting hot in here, lets take off all our clothes..."

I've said my peace.

_____________________________________________

I've included my favorite painting of all time, for good measure.

The Kiss, c. 1907/1908
Gustav Klimt

*Disclaimer:  The opinions and ideas expressed above in no way represent the opinions or ideas of the DIA, the artists, or any person who is otherwise compensated, or not, for reviewing artistic works of high regard.

Close Encounters of the Male Kind: Excerpt from Chapter 2

Close Encounters of the Male Kind

Excerpt from Chapter Two

“The Crush”

          How I wish I could forget my early days of high school. How I wish I could forget the one person that could pierce my heart with just a single glance in my direction. One glance would hold me over for weeks, and to this day, I remember exactly what I was wearing the one time he told me I looked nice. I sincerely hope I am not the only delusional soul that has had an experience like this in their younger years, especially since I’m putting it out here for the world to see. In the event that I am the only delusional soul with this ‘issue’ – well, the one psychiatrist that is reading…this is where you can step in.
          I had a brief encounter with this man in my early teen years. He was popular. I was not. He was adorable. I was not. He was cruel at times, and I was not. His shoes were always so white, piercing eyes, broad shoulders, a button nose if I ever really saw one, and the most incredible bubble butt I have ever seen on a man’s figure. I really don’t know what magnetic force field propelled me to this man, time and time again…but it did. I have witnessed him being cruel, unkind, selfish, inconsiderate, and masterfully manipulative; yet I still pined for him. Why is this? I made it to second base with this guy and we never talked after that. I got grounded for nearly three weeks for that little escapade (the punishment was worth every minute).
          Low and behold, out of the blue, over twelve years later…he contacts me…on Myspace; Myspace. To those of us who first design a page, a delight. To those of us who move on to a more productive means of networking, perhaps face to face communications…just a small stepping stone. To those of us where Myspace serves as a link between you and your biggest crush ever…the best advancement in internet technology since dial up jumped to broadband.
          First, it started as catching up. Then, we moved onto instant messaging. Then the texting began. Next thing you know, I’m hanging out with him at the local watering hole. He dragged me out to the parking lot to listen to his latest and greatest mix. I remember being really impressed by his liking for Stevie Wonder.  We Have So Much in Common!  Blinded by the crush-o-meter with this man, I neglected to consider the number of Stevie Wonder fans in the world. I neglected to consider the fact that the man was a twenty five Grammy award winner or that he had produced nearly two hundred number one hits. Who the f* doesn’t like Stevie Wonder? He handed me a best of best mix, that I still listen to today. I neglected to consider the other twelve girls posting, “Thanks so much for your mix, I love it and listen to it every day!” (Probably while they’re pooping!)
          The last encounter I had with him, I vowed to never involve myself with him again. There were so many brief moments where this inner person would peep out and say or do something so genuine, so sweet and thoughtful. So out of character, and I think it was this that kept me going back. I think it was the commonality we shared at that point in our lives. I think this commonality we shared provided us both brief glimpses of comfort. I’ve always known deep down that if I had ever had the opportunity to be with this person, that I most likely wouldn’t be interested. I’m not walking blind. I know exactly what sits in front of me. How you say? Wash, rinse, and repeat. What sits in front of me is not going to measure up to my ‘crush’ – and no one will because seventy five percent of this ‘idea’ was a complete fabrication stemming from hot horny teenage dreams - not even close to the harsh reality I had received over, and over, and over again while pining for this guy. I’m not even his type (thankfully so), and as painful as it is for me to say this aloud, I really don’t think that he’s mine.
          This is what I mean about realization. I have a hard time not being over-skeptical – but people…you have to be a little skeptical. Look at the reality of the situation. The reality of my situation with this guy is that we were both lonely. It is that simple. Now you go and be simple. Don’t let illusions or false expectations support a disappointment. It took me a long time to realize this…but I’m happy with the outcome. After all is said and done…he will always be a friend (even if the guy has made me feel like crap, several times warmed over).
          I digress...it was me making myself feel like crap several times warmed over. I did this by not feeling confident and by letting stupid trivial things overwhelm my judgment. I am smart. I am beautiful. I am talented. I am funny, successful, ambitious, caring, devoted, and a wonderful mother. If you’ve been in the field for as long as I have, you will come to find that there aren’t many people that can measure up to all of that. So, back to approaching this from a different angle; no longer will I be, “Bitter, party of one!”  Que Sera, Sera...whatever will be will be.  I do know one thing for certain...if someone isn't treating you with equal respect, they aren't worth your time.  There are plenty more fish in the sea, and it is so sad...so very, very, sad...that most of them are liable to be chapters in this book.

What's Your Nationality?

Errr...I said something stupid.

I recently asked someone what their nationality was and made some comments as to support personality characteristics being a result of it.  Shortly thereafter I realized what a moronic assumption this was.  I'm Sicilian, mixed with a bit of German, and a dash of French.  Throughout my life, I've heard, "Sicilian and German?  Geez, you must be a brute little force...", or, "Temper, temper, temper...no wonder where she gets it from...".  After giving it some thought, I vow to never to make an unfledged statement like this again, and here is why:


I'm not going to deny the fact that I have a bit of a temper, or that I happen to be a brute little force to reckon with if someone crosses me.  However, I think very little of this has to do with my nationality.  Furthermore, characteristics of a society couldn't possibly affect me to this magnitude given the fact that I was neither born in Sicily, nor have I ever visited Europe in my life (not saying I wouldn't like to).  One might say that the cultures and traits associated with my nationality have moved through generations, whereby affecting the result of my personality.  However, I had zero influence from he who had passed on the German/French blood.  And the environment I was exposed to growing up included the likes of Scotland too.


Now, throw in the characteristics found in America as a people; and those are a lot of variables to support a pre-conceived theory as to what makes me, me.  In the end, personal experience holds more weight as it pertains to characteristics of a person.  So, I'm just throwing this out there...don't be one of those morons (like me the other day) who makes a statement to suggest that anyone's nationality holds weight as to, for example, how arrogant or chauvanist they may be.  It is more likely that experience has made them this way...or they might just be an asshole because they like to be.  Who knows?

Embrace the individuality.

Flag of Nina



The End.

We Have So Much in Common!

My friends...I use this phrase in a joking manner almost always - and I just want to take a few moments to give you some background.

When e.d. and I had met for the first time, we were laughing about how lame dating has become.  How so many people assume they have so much in common...and then find out a month later that they were completely wrong for eachother...initiating somewhat of a shocked response.

B:  "I love to snorkel!"
G:  "Oh my Gosh!  Me too!"
B:  "Have you ever gone snorkeling in the Caribbean?"
G:  "Once while I was on my honeymoon (lol)"
B:  "Oh thats cool...I've gone snorkeling at Metro...you know...I go and look for lose change"

Seriously?  People.  How often do you snorkel?  How often does anyone snorkel?  Even if you are blessed with oceanside property...how often do you snorkel?

This is where commonality meets enjoyable activities...they are NOT one in the same.

If you are looking to meet someone for the long haul...wake up and pay attention!

If you spend 50% of your time working, 10% of your time maintaining the homestead, 20% of your time tending to your children, 20% of your time sleeping...try to look for someone that can handle spending at least 50% of their time at home.

You need to find someone that can take the day to day blows with you...and get back up with only minor scrapes.  You need to find someone that enjoys doing yardwork, if that is how you spend 80% of your days in the summertime.  Lastly, you need to find someone that you can live with, period.  Someone that will make you laugh when you finally say, you know what, its Saturday, but I really need to clean the damn bathroom.  I don't want to, I'm not going to enjoy it...so please just stand there and amuse me while I get this done.

Now, I know what you're thinking, "Nina...when was the last time you sustained a relationship?"  I know, I know...I guess I'm just waiting to meet the one guy that gets just as turned on as I do about coupon clipping and rock shows on PBS.

P.S.  I always have the best intentions when it comes to coupon use...but I have probably used maybe five coupons in my entire life (4 at DSW).  I just really enjoy cutting them...and laughing about the marketing genius behind placing the coupon for smuckers page left from the coupon for tampax.  I know...gross, right?

New Original - Check It!

I wrote this song just before I left for CISSP camp.  I was sad to put my guitar down before I left, and through the 86 hours of study and class time I participated in that week, prior to the six hour exam, I was anxious to get back home and finish this tune...

This tune was inspired by the inability to completely dissolve your past, and look forward to new beginnings.  Its about putting that toe in, but never really being able to soak your whole foot for fear of getting burned.  Its about enjoying freedom, and not really 'needing' a relationship; yet all the while realizing how much one could support a longterm happiness.  Its about not settling, and sometimes breaking your heart, or others, through searching for the one who is worth the risk.

I've developed a new callous on my left index finger as a result of the pesky bar chord.  A callous to a beginner guitar player is like a....oh nevermind.

So, without further ado, I present to you, live via my crappy little casio digital camera, "How Many (Does it Take?)" - until I come up with a not so lame title, heh.

Tell me what you think?

"How Many (Does it Take?)" - Nina Marie, 2010
*Please note, guitar playing is not really my forte' - I do my best, as it provides me assistance in writing music; this would probably sound a lot better if someone else had played it, lol

Twas My Night Before Christmas Eve

After three hours of sleep and countless hours of tossing and turning all week, I woke up surprisingly chipper.  I stopped to grab a coffee, paying special attention to wish the gas station attendant a very Merry Christmas.  Alanis Morrisette's "All I Really Want" was playing on the radio, and I began to reminisce of my days of youth.  I must have listened to her jagged little pill through my entire sophomore year of high school.  I thought to myself, "what the hell does she have to be so bitter about anyway?"  This shocked me...as I tend to lean more towards the bitter side of reality most days.  It had occurred to me, that I have absolutely no reason to feel bitter these days.  That we as humans are born unto a selfish race; most days a challenge to not find something attractive or desireable knowing it is completely out of reach.

Are there things that I want?  Indeed there are a plenty.  I look around and see all that I have and find no excuse to not be satisfied with it.  There is nothing that I need today.  I am thirty.  I have a house, a car, a great job, a loving and supportive family, a beautiful healthy child, and friends that would walk over coals to come to my rescue if need be.  All things I have acquired through my life, through good times and bad, in sickness and in health, through better or for poor.  At any given time, I could lose any one of these things; I am thankful for today.
 
Tomorrow, I will watch my son eagerly tear open every present under the tree.  This evening, he said to me, "Mama, aren't you so excited that Santa is coming and he is going to bring us all both presents?"  I said, "Well, Santa brings presents to boys and girls, he doesn't bring them to old people.  My present is to see how happy you are when you open them."  I could see his mind racing, contemplating what I had said, and wondering how that could compare.  He said, "Well, you can help me open mine." 

All day, I haven't quite been able to pinpoint where this sudden jolt of happiness had come from.  At this moment, it finally dawned on me.  I briefly recalled Christmas mornings as a child, running into my parents' bedroom to wake them.  I never once thought of going to the tree and looking at the gifts first.  Instinctly, I ran straight to where my Mom was, and woke her...so that she could be there with me.  All the commotion, all the holly-balooz and bustling of that season; and like auto-pilot, there I was...with my parents...and my sister...every Christmas morning. 

I am more excited on this day than I ever was as a child.  I am so happy and fortunate to be in a position to be able to provide for my son, all year round...and especially...provide him all of these extra things on Christmas.  People always say, "Christmas is for the kids" and today I beg to differ.  I feel like it is Christmas morning all over again, only this time, it is magnifide by all of the people, things, and accomplishments that I've made in my life over the last twenty something years.  My biggest accomplishment being my son.

Jack, Christmas morning, 2008

You People are all So Selfless:

My friend Melanie set aside a special gift for me and asked me to open it tomorrow morning with Jack, so that I would have something to open.

My Mom had me over earlier this evening, and let Jack and I taste test the brissoulini and lasagna for tomorrow's feast - ahead of everyone else - so I wouldn't have to cook dinner tonight.

My Sister ran around like a chicken with her head cut off to find the last gift on my list for Jack - without the time to do it myself, and helped me with a few other things like wrapping, because that's "F-ing Teamwork!"

My friend Greg ignored my "I only need to get a few things" and accompanied me on a two hour grocery shopping trip, in a blizzard - dropping me off at the door, carrying the bags in, and scraping the car several times in the process.

My friend Brian had a package waiting for me on my porch with the most beautiful pictures I have ever seen, and some media of which I cannot wait to find the time to give my undivided attention.

S G...thanks for eluding that you care, because I know how hard that is sometimes :)

To all of you people in my life:  Thank you for thinking of me and helping me through some of the best and worst times of my life.  It ain't easy doing it alone...and today, I've realized that I'm not...and I haven't been.  I am so lucky - no gift could compare.  My son is fortunate to be surrounded by family and friends who will help teach him the same...that no gift compares to a simple happiness.

Merry Christmas to All and to All a Good Night!

Excerpt from Chapter 3: "Close Encounters of the Male Kind"

"Close Encounters of the Male Kind"
Excerpt from Chapter 3:

 “The Romper”

          I liked his tattoos. He wore glasses, heavy black safety shoes, and an all occasion baseball cap. He always smelled nice. He was at work. The office was desolate one Friday afternoon, I was there by myself playing catch up on a project that left more to be completed. He rushed in with a last minute request, and by chance, I was the only fool that could help him. I obliged. He came to thank me on three separate occasions the following week. “Again, thank you so much Nina, you really saved my ass,” he said. As he turned to walk out, he faced me again and said, “I should probably take you to lunch at our five star cafeteria or something.” I smiled and replied, “I’ll take my chances and wait for a formal invitation somewhere outside of this dump.” He called my desk phone when he returned to his office and asked me if I wanted to go out. Of course, I said, “Sure.”
          Later that week, we met up at Fishbones. Fishbones was a classy watering hole right near the water. We sat in our nervousness and talked for nearly three hours. He occasionally glanced up at the Redwings game playing on the raised monitor. He even admitted he had tickets for the game that night, but said that he planned to meet up with his friends later in the evening. We talked about our backgrounds, childhoods, interests, work, and lightly touched on our traumatic past relationships. I am a slow drinker, so I finished the night off with two beers, he had four. We walked out together and he kissed me. It wasn’t a bad kiss; though I didn’t feel many sparks as I had anticipated. He called the next day and asked me out to dinner for the following week.
          It was a nice evening for dinner outside. He took me to this place right off Jefferson. The boats were lingering around the patio, and the sun was just beginning to set. The dinner was great, and the conversation was lasting. Afterwards, he asked me if I’d like to take a walk down by the beach. Sounded great to me, but I glanced down to my four inch wedge platform sandals and wished I had been just a little more conservative when it came to selecting my shoes for the evening. I asked him if we could swing back to my place so that I could change into a more reasonable pair. Later that week he asked me if I would be interested in visiting his place for dinner. I accepted.
          That day, I had a pretty busy day at work. I came home and changed into something a little more comfortable and head out to his place. He had already started drinking, and I could smell a hint of barbeque as he closed the patio door behind him. He said, “I just started the grill, so dinner should be ready in about an hour, can I grab you something to drink?” I said, “sure, I’ll take what you’re drinking.” We sat around and talked while he was preparing to put the food on the grill. We were going to feast on steak, scallops, and shrimp. Who needs veggies and carbs anyways, right?
          My stomach began to grumble and I had realized that two hours had passed and we still hadn’t eaten. No big deal. It was 9:30pm, and I realized this guy must have polished off at least ten beers. As he closed the patio door behind him, with the full tray of cooked food in hand, he said, “I’m not really hungry right now.” Oh great. I’m starving, this guy is near drunk. I can’t just go ahead and help myself. Who wants to eat alone on a date? I politely said, “nah, I’m alright.” I nervously plopped myself on the couch and began to watch the Red Wings game. He sat down next to me, turned his head, and said, (brace yourself for this), “you wanna make out?” On the inside, I started laughing hysterically. On the outside, I said, “sure, why not?” Maybe if I could occupy my mind with something other than the smell of the steamy hot goodness that sat on the dining room table, my hunger could pass.
          So, there we were…fifteen minutes and taking a breather. I exclaimed, “hey, I’m not really into going that far with you, I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea…maybe I should leave.” He expressed that he wanted to stay, that we should just lay there and talk. Fifteen minutes later, there we were, taking a breather. I exclaimed, “hey, maybe I should leave.” He expressed that he wanted me to stay, that we should just lay there and talk. Fifteen minutes later, I am the catalyst of every poor man’s excuse for not getting to the next level. You guessed it. Rhymes with ‘Lou Rawls’. Need I say more?
          I’m lying there on my stomach, contemplating how much longer I am going to subject myself to his whining. I find myself fantasizing about the grilled goodness sitting out on the table. He leans in close and whispers in my ear, “Can I use your ass?” Before I can say “For What?!” Two hundred and sixty pounds of sheer horn-ness is climbing up on my fully clothed butt; straddling it as if I am a prized 4-H. At this exact moment, I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. I was laughing for sure. How could that even feel good??  Jeans on jeans??  Waiter!  Side order of chaif cream please!  The side of my face was smooshed into the pillow and one lowly tear streaked my face and rolled under the side of my nose. If only he could just hand me a shrimp? A scallop? Anything?! This moment, in hindsight, brought total new meaning to the phrase Eat. Pray. Love; as I was only satisfying one of these three desires.
          “Please get off me (minus a few inappropriate f-bombs).” A deep sigh of frustration and he was off. Thank god. He went to use the bathroom. And that was a wrap! As soon as the bathroom door shut I shot up, grabbed my things, and fled for freedom. I rocked back from grabbing the knob, grabbed one shrimp off the tray and sped to my car.  This was by far, one of the worst dates I have ever been on; however, I’m still laughing...and to me...that is worth far more than a bad ass-romping. 

Two valuable lessons learned from this one: 

1)  Don't date anyone from work.  Period. 
2)  Don't come hungry.

Thanksgiving - The Italian Creed, Fran Werschler

This holiday, I am most thankful for my big fat Italian family, my heritage, and all that I've learned from them.  As we grow older, we begin to realize how fragile life really is.  The holidays always bring about a taste of bittersweet...as these are days that remind me of the huge family dinners.  As time moves forward, the dinners seem to get smaller; memories larger.

I have friends that haven't spoken to their families in years.  When I see this, it saddens me...as I'm not sure any skeleton, lie, mistake, or mishap, could keep me from mine.  Forgive and be forgiven; life is too short.

In honor of Thanksgiving, I bring to you "The Italian Creed," written by Frances (Crifasi) Werschler.  She was my Godmother, forever always being the woman who inspires me to be selfless and giving.  We miss you.

The Italian Creed

by Frances Werschler

We believe in food

We can never eat enough of it

We grow too much, and we eat too much

To share with family, neighbors and friends

We believe in drink

Wine, coffee and conversation

We have been told we talk too much

We believe we have much to say...and we do

We take the saying, "Wake up and smell the coffee" literally.

From the day we are born we think our name is EAT EAT!!

But as we grow older, we realize our real name is...

Stephanie-Josie-Maria-Jackie-Francie-Rosalie-

Whatever the hell your name is

We believe in family

We believe that it is written somewhere in the

Italian Handbook that at least one of our children

should be named Joseph or Josephine

We are compassionate people

We believe in giving ourselves unconditionally

no matter what the cost

We do everything excessively

We eat too much, drink too much, and love too much

We believe in wearing our emotions inside out for all to see

We laugh, we cry, we get angry

Then we cry, get angry, and laugh again

We are poets, musicians, artists, and lovers

We believe in Faith

The resurrection and life

And we believe God is Italian....and God is.

Frances (Crifasi)Werschler

1958-2004

Sincereality & the Flavor of Friends

This blog is best digested while listening to Oasis

I've come to the realization that its extremely rare to go through life sustaining some of the friendships that began when we were still developing into our own.  Most people don't even talk to anyone from High School, above and beyond the 'like' button associated with Facebook.  I had the fortune of meeting these people early on, as they have contributed much to who I am today.

Insert Personal Rant Here: 

Please, when I use the word friend below, consider it's traditional meaning...if you do not remember the traditional meaning, click here and take a journey to the past.  Reference definitions 1a, and 4.  (1b clearly added recently as a result of facebook).

I've decided to devote this blog to one of my most prized possessions:  my friends.  Kickin' it old school - these friends of mine share only one common element.  High School.  These people all have their share of unique qualities...and I'm going to share with you a little from each one.

V:

Veronica and I met in highschool.  We spent many a night in her basement listening to Tool and Smashing Pumpkins.  She was that person that had made my highschool years less painful...because her picture resides in nearly every good memory to come out of that time of my life.  Her family was, in large part, my family too.  Veronica moved away a few years ago and began a new life in Tennessee.  No matter how busy life gets, no matter how many kids she has occupying her every waking moment...Veronica has always been there.  She has always been the friend to call, text, write, send photos...and in retrospect, she is that friend I wish I could be - because, well lets face it...my busy-ness seems to get in the way of keeping in touch.  Last year, I specifically sent her birthday card almost two months in advance just so that I wouldn't send it late.  I think of her every day, but I know our friendship still thrives because of her selfless attempts to keep in touch; she's my boulder.

LEE:

Lisa is the kindest, least judgemental, person I have ever met.  If she wasn't always donning the latest and greatest fashions, I'm convinced angel wings would be perched on her shoulders.   We were roommates at one point, though I think I drove her absolutely crazy.  She was there when I delivered my son.  She was there for my wedding, and the eventual demise of it.  She was there at my grad party, to paint my house, to paint my room, and she was there at every funeral I've endured since we've met.  She is my voice of reason, because she's never let me down when I've needed a voice of rationale.  She always knows what to do.  She's savvy, passionate, and caring.  No matter the time or distance between us, we pick up right back where we left off when we can make the time.

GREG:

Greg is like my conscience.  After all...the guy knows me like the back of his hand.  Its a good thing I can't play poker because he'd call my bluff every time.  He is the brother I never had.  He's a voice of reason, and the calm after a storm.   He is the one person that will tell you everything you don't want to hear, if its necessary...and sometimes, it is necessary...and very much appreciated.  He inspired me to play guitar, as we spent many a nights through school (and after) singing and playing together.  Even when he moved to Florida - he was always there, through thick and thin.



These are my Golden Girls (errr...sorry Greg).

Letting Go of My Bananas

When I was going through one of the most difficult times in my life (knock on wood), a friend recommended this book:

Letting Go of Your Bananas 

And this book changed my life.

Today, I offer my rotten bananas as of July 2008.  I try to look at this list every few months to gauge how far I've come.  I have come far, and seeing the things I have yet to change motivates me to keep pursuing my personal successes.

This is my living rotten banana document...in essence...this is me yelling at myself:

Affirmation: I am letting go of these bananas. They will continue to hold me back until I do. This will take time. I cannot drop all of these rotten bananas in one day. Each day will bring me a stronger desire to chop these bananas off. I will approach each day with a smile and let nothing stand in my way of letting these bananas fall. Wherever these bananas land is not my problem. My only problems stem from these bananas. Any problems that may arise above and beyond the bananas listed below are most likely overspill from someone else’s bananas, for which I cannot take accountability for. I accept full accountability for letting these bananas control my happiness and success, and I take full responsibility for letting them go.

Objectives:

• Each day is a full day
• Get a good night's rest, wake on time, with a smile and accomplish everything you set out to accomplish that day.
• Go to bed knowing your day was well spent.
•  Finish the school without curbing the learning
• Get the BA degree (aka piece of paper that proves your competencies)
• Make more money, don't stop there
• Make new friends, keep the old, ditch the ones that don't cut it
• Help people and give back
• Health and Happiness
• Live long and prosper
• Sleep, quit smoking, drink my water, stop eating crap food
• Take the time to enjoy real food, and to enjoy preparing it
• Stop stressing about things that you cannot control; stop stressing about things that will not adversely affect your tomorrow.  There should be no reason that you let yourself get that worked up over something that is so insignificant.  Find the root cause.  Listen to your body.  Sense that it is coming and create a diversion.
• Live long for Jack, live long for self, live long for success
• Organize
• Put stuff where it goes so you can find it
• Get rid of everything you don't need, use, or have a use for - donate or sell it.  It doesn't matter the less stuff you have, the less you have to maintain.
• Time Management
• It is not necessary for you to make plans for every minute of every day
• It is necessary that you stick to the plans that you make
• Keep the commitments you make to yourself on the front burner
• Trust
• Get over your past and move on.
• Things are the way that they are and nothing you do today will change the way they were.
• Things you do today will change the way they continue to be.
• Forgive and forget.
• If you don't, you will never allow yourself the opportunity to experience love and happiness the way it should be experienced.  Jack is liable to grow up with similar issues and you will forever regret not learning to live more openly.  You have paid enough penance and happiness in this department is long overdue.
• Addressin' the Financin
• You have always been financially responsible moreso than anyone you have ever met.
• How this is possible without tracking any expense or budget is beyond me.  You have done well for yourself, but not that well considering you don't have a pot to piss in.
• Well you do, but it costs money to flush so figure it out.
• Do not delay, do not worsen.  Just fix it.
• Stop repeating minor dilemma before it becomes a major dilemma.
• Figure it out before you become a statistic.
• Acceptance:  because it is what it is
• Accept who you are.  Be thankful for being someone.
• Be thankful to those that have helped you become the someone you are and realize that those people too, had issues in being their own person while helping you become who you are.
• Do the best you can do.
• Do not expect others to change
• The rest will follow suite if it needs to, and don't worry if it doesn't.
• Patience, just a little patience...yeah___yeah____.
• Realize that each person operates at a pace in which they are comfortable
• Your pace is not comfortable for most so stop being so pushy
• Do not rush at the grocery store or while driving, you are going to cause an accident
• Stop walking like a clydesdale, people can hear you coming from a mile away
• The work will be there tomorrow and the door can be opened when you get there.
• Clomping around here like you do in shoes like that...you could really hurt someone.
• Take a deep breath and relax your shoulders Frankenstein
• Time is constant and you will not make the day go by faster by running through it.

These are my rotten bananas.  Entertaining to say the least.  There stands a good chance that you have some of the same.  Making them public just gives me that much more incentive to be a little more aggressive with these goals.
My point is this:  if you have something, one thing, or a list of things preventing you from being totally and completely happy with yourself, do something to change it.  I haven't cleared this entire list...but I've certainly put a dent in it.  My life is better for it.

I urge each and every one of you to pick up a copy, if I haven't personally handed you one.

Walmart & Black Friday

Considering the multiple deaths and injuries since 2008, I'm highly recommending cyber-black friday shopping to anyone with access to a computer. 

This way...no one gets hurt!

Black Friday Deals

No line...no risk of death or injury. 

Do this.

Today on Craigslist, Detroit

"I really really need a girlfriend" (21 - Clinton Township)
Nothing speaks desperation like, "I really, really, need a girlfriend"  Not really, but really, really.

Hey, I am a nice, caring single dude who needs a GF that is somewhat responsible and also very single...
Pay close attention:  this post is limited to the very single population.  Single girls need not apply.

Please be in good shape as I got a NICE body haa...
Well, at least there's something.

Jus hopin there's a cute girl who hopped on CR and is looking for a wonderful wonderful down to earth BF.. :)
He had me at 'jus' wonderful wonderful smiley.

I work FT, drive and go to school... I love hangin out, watchin movies, drinkin, and lots lots more... Tell ya when we start talking!
You think the ability to drive is worth mentioning?  Perhaps this credential is on his resume?  Who can I call to verify this information?  We have so much in common!

I am 5'11'', 165 lbs., brown hair, green eyes and in excellente shape! I am very very clean and smell good too:)
Ooh...watch out ladies, 'excellente'...he may be Italian.

Lets hang out sooooon, email me with a pic and I will return one.. Please include a cell number n maybe we can cut the emailin and get real fast hah :)
Yeah, let us cut the emailing, as well as necessary letters, words, spelling and punctuation.  Lets cut out all of that crap but repeat several words to emphasize the desperation. 

Ladies...stand back, because this catch is all mine.

Who Am I and What am I Doing Here?

This post would best be digested while listening to "Henry Nearly Killed Me, it's a Shame" - Ray Lamontagne


Henry Nearly Killed Me






My name is Antonina, but everyone calls me Nina.  I was named after my Nana...

I have a 4 year old son named Jack, named after my grandfather...

I'm thirty years old.  I was born and raised in the suburbs of Detroit.  I work in the defense industry.  I've got a BBA, specializing in Human Resource Management.  My son and I are raising a tadpole, named Tad.  My family has bound me with multiple creative abilities and interests; therefore I like a lot of things, and cannot devote myself to pursue any one interest.  I do have a passion for writing.  These days I find myself wanting everything life has to offer, but I'm limited to spending most of my time at work.  I enjoy what I do, but is it really for me, or is it just something I pushed myself through for an earnest paycheck?  As my ex-husband once said, "...you are like a hippee, and I'm like a college prep..."  This was his justification as to just how incompatible we were - but really? (he is realizing now just how lame that sounded.  Bet). 

So, yes...I do hold unconventional views.  I think outside the box.  I sing.  I play guitar.  I have a rawnchy and twisted sense of humor at times.  I enjoy my personal time just a little too much.  All of these things fall outside the picturesque virtue of a corporate America.  But!  I am passionate about what I do.  I'm passionate because I'm good at it.  If I could poop regularly, I'd be passionate about that too.  I would bet there are a lot of people standing in these three inch heels (deduct the ladies that give me the death look for wearing them to work).  Its a sad state of affairs when one realizes they devote more time to work, more time responding to others ineptitude, than they devote to their children, family, hobbies, or livelihood.

I loathe mornings...especially those that force my waking.

I loathe people absent of ambition.

I loathe inequality in the workforce.

I love my family.

I love my friends.

I love the prospect of change and new beginnings. 

Why am I here?

I started this blog over two years ago, but my lack of devotion and direction landed me two followers and months upon months of silence.  If you are one of my two previous followers, you will see I've made some changes.  Personally, I've made some changes too.  I intend to use this blog to share some tragic, yet humorous experiences.  I'd like to share my humble opinion on workplace topics of interest.  I would also like to use it as my personal therapist, so if you happen to leave a comment, be sure it isn't one that will send me reeling off the nearest overpass.  Like many of you, I find solace in humoring myself at another's expense.  I will share these with you as well, on special occassions like holidays and fiestas.


Through writing, I hope to get to the bottom of that purpose, or at least narrow it down to one broad topic.


For those of you that have played active roles in my misery, I will spare you your indecencies being made public and provide you a fictitious name of my choosing.  I can assure you, it will be one that suits you perfectly*.


I invite you to comment on my blog with any experiences you would like to share, relevant to the subject topic of each post.  I would accept unrelated comments as well, if thats what moves you.




*Disclaimer:  The fictitious name you are provided will likely be offensive, and cannot be exchanged or returned on or after the date a post is published.

What I Can't Find on Google:

Love.

A medical website that does not initiate a full out panic attack.

A place for voters to go to get an unbiased review of current politicians running for office by state.

A get rich quick rich scheme that doesn't require you to take sixteen surveys, three magazine subscriptions, and spend your life savings.

A well designed, user friendly website that is maintained by a city, state, or federal government agency.

What can't you find using google?

Another Night...with Grass.

Nearly two hours ago, I looked at the clock and said to myself..."wow, it is only 10:23...I can go to bed now, I'm ready for bed." So here I am...sitting in bed...unable to close my eyes. This insomnia thing has plagued me for nearly two years. I'm not quite sure why I don't allow myself a good night's rest. I would probably have no problem falling asleep that early; but I let my mind wander. It isn't as if I come up with great ideas, lyrics, concepts...or that I'm philosophizing about some major life event...I simply do nothing during these late hours. So why is it I just don't sleep? A question that boggles me today...and there stands a good chance that it will boggle me tomorrow too.

So...on with the show she says.

Today, like every other day, I slept beyond the point in which I had intended on waking. No surprise here. I dabbled a bit on Ray and head out into the wild brush that resides behind my house. It was a great day outside, little to no humidity, bright and sunny, light breeze. I figured since it has been over two months since I had attempted to mow the lawn...well today was the day. You see, I am not the avid...how you say...green thumb-er? Gardening, Landscaping...not my forte'. I killed most of my grass with Weed B Gone. How you ask? I purchased the kind that hooks right up to your garden hose. Seemed easy enough to me. Well...there I was...spraying and spraying...and spraying. It didn't look like anything special was happening. There was no color to this water. There was no odor to this water. Is this thing on???

So...I figured, you know what, I don't have time for this crap...forget this. I unscrewed the spray bottle and just started pouring it on the weeds in the grass. The horrible smell lasted for three days, the same three days I was afraid to step outside of the house for fear of seeing some bright yellow placard on the lawn that read, "THIS BITCH JUST SET US BACK FORTY YEARS ON THE OZONE!" or "THANKS FOR POISONING THE CITY'S WATER SUPPLY."

Well...that was almost two months ago, and believe it or not...I haven't really had much grass grow around these parts! Today, my grass looked less weed ridden, and more like actual grass. So I am happy with this progress I'm making. You live and you learn.

Tomorrow, Bob is coming over to remove my bushes. He's just gonna pull them all out...the atrocities they are. Beastly, gangly, fly-attracting monstrosities of the species they are. Good riddens!