In a mood

Probably shouldn't write anything publicly, but it's my blog so I'll write if I want to.  Seriously...just because you buy me shit doesn't mean it gives you the freedom to then act like either a moron or a jerk.  I have some people in my life who just absolutely suck at common sense, sensitivity, nurturing and caring love.  Instead of becoming better humans, working on having a real relationship with me, they just buy me stuff.  Now I know most full blooded Americans would go "but you get presents..stop whining".  Life to me is not about the stuff.  It never has been, it never will be.  Life to me is about love, friendship, laughter, close human relationships.  You can't bribe me to love you...you can't bribe me so I behave.  Treat me with respect, treat me like my thoughts and feelings matter, treat me with care and kindness, don't keep me around just for purely selfish, stroke your ego, make you feel less like a jerk reasons.  Keep me around for my big, dumb, beautiful heart that tries harder than 98% of the people out there..and give me the same respect and care I give you.

And don't make me feel guilty if after you buy me something, you act like a moron and I get pissed.  Don't give me something and then think it gives you a free pass to then walk all over me.  I don't need your fucking trinkets if I have to emotionally and physically pay for them.  It's not a present, it's a bribe to let you be a jerk and make me feel obligated to do what you want and keep my mouth shut.

I don't need gifts.  I don't need hush presents.  I just need to be treated with consideration...and I don't even need ass loads of that.  Maybe just half of the consideration I give would be nice to receive for a change.

Henry the First

Today is the 17th.  My Grandpa Henry would've been 94 today.  He actually passed away 33 years ago.  I was 2 1/2.  Some would say what can you possibly know or remember about someone who died when you were that little?  Oddly, I remember a lot (in fact I have a theory that the reason why I have such a great memory is because I tried to hold on to as much as possible about him).  I remember how he smelled...I remember how the glasses case in his shirt pocket felt against my cheek...I remember how happy I was every time I saw him...I remember that he was my favorite person in the whole world.

I was the absolute perfect child to him.  I was the daughter of his little girl (whom he worshiped).  I know he thought the sun rose and set on me..and I felt the same way about him.  There's a part of me that has missed him everyday since he died.  He's never far from my thoughts.

Now probably if most people picked him apart, they would've thought he was kind of an asshole.  He was incredibly intelligent (to the point it was almost frightening..could work out algebra problems in his head and recite them in front of the class), he was elitist (though he tried to be nice to everyone), stubborn, easily angered with a dangerous (near homicidal) temper, mischievous, and ornery.  He used to throw out topics that would piss his friends off and then sit in the corner and laugh while they fought it out.  The funny thing is...I love every bit of that.  I like men who are stubborn, with devilish senses of humor - men who are incredibly bright...who get mischievous.  I like gentlemen who are kind to everyone but still sort of snobby and picky...men who are quiet and subtle...yet still having their own private Disneyland in their head...who are amused easily.  Both my grandfathers - though neither one was perfect - influenced my opinions on what a man is supposed to be.

Eh..too in depth analyzing on my part.  I'm just thinking of him and waxing poetic.  I think if he were here now and he knew I was talking about him, he'd be more interested in sharing what his last moments on Earth were like.  He had just finished bowling with my grandma and some friends.  He joked to his buddy about if he needed help carrying his balls and then dropped dead of an aneurysm.  It was the perfect way to go out...a sarcastic, well timed, bawdy comment...and he'd probably be damn happy to know that I still think of him and miss him terribly.

Grandpa Powers

I wanted to write this on what would've been his birthday (Jan 13th) but it just didn't happen.  January always brings thoughts of my grandfathers.  My paternal one was born on the 13th and my maternal one was born on the 17th.  Both were gone from my life by the time I was 6, but made such an impression on me.  I know people don't typically remember much of their early years, but I remember both of them so vividly.

What I remember about Grandpa Powers was how refined he seemed.  He was a real gentleman even though he came from a rough background.  His mother was amazing - giving, loving, involved in charity, strong, but his dad was a raging alcoholic.  People thought they were trash because of their father's behavior.  His mother had to take in laundry and such just to put food on the table.  I remember hearing he used to eat ketchup and butter sandwiches and bone marrow sandwiches (because that was sometimes all they had).  It seems like his life's goal was to prove how much he was really worth.  In high school, he excelled at sports, was a musician, was involved in student government...he was a big man on campus.  He dressed impeccably (my grandma used to light up when she talked about how handsome and pulled together he was) and he worked his butt off in his studies.  He had some kind of learning disability so it wasn't easy for him to maintain the minimum GPA to stay on the sport teams, but he did it...by sheer discipline, dedication and will.  He was the kind of guy everyone liked, that everyone respected.

Through his hard work he made a success of a men's clothing store in Oberlin.  It was called Powers and Dawley.  They carried classy suits, shoes..and even had a small women's section.  I remember being in it when I was little (after my grandfather had sold it so he could retire).  I was so amazed and impressed that he was the reason it existed.  It never changed much between when he had it and when it finally closed.  I'd go in there feeling like I was in another time..a time where people cared about how put together they were, a time of gentility and prettiness.  I can even remember how it smelled...like leather and old wood.  I was so proud of him, proud to be a Powers...and hell, I still am.

I wish I had more time with him...more of the memories my cousins have...but I think even though I don't have many actual "this happened and that happened" memories, I have a feel of his essence.  Plus, I have some of his tastes in favorite things.  Every Christmas, we used to buy him the same exact things - a bottle of vodka, a box of Malley's chocolates, and a red cardigan sweater because that's exactly what he wanted.  You know what?  Those three things would also put me in heaven.  I think the finer things that make me smile come from him.  He wasn't perfect, don't get me wrong, but he was a man's man...a class act...a gentleman.  I was very lucky to know him.

Oy Vey

Babes, a Kindle, my iPod, stories seemingly writing themselves, burlesque, ghost group and marketing for our ParaQuest Conference in April, my special Christmas fairy present to Jen and trying to figure out which nursing school to go to...sounds pretty busy, right?  Well, now introduce my new present of Sims 3 that is currently downloading...hmmm.  Yep...that should be enough to keep me out of trouble.  If I'm quiet, y'all will know why.

Hey, at least I'm getting hardly any sleep...so guess I'll have more hours in the day for all of this.  I'll be dead of fun before I even get a chance to go to Paris for my 40th.  If I get too lost, please try to find me.  Really, I can be interrupted.  LOL

Grumble, grumble....grumble

So I started writing the damn vampire book (because what are you going to do when you're up at 5:45 for no reason).  I'm not writing it for anything more than my own entertainment....so I doubt highly anyone will see it.  I'm just doing it to do it.  I figure it's good practice.

My half assed catalyst to the whole thing is I bought a book for my kindle that was supposed to be a comical vampire story.  Either I have absolutely no taste in comedy, or it's not really that funny.  So far, mine actually might be.  It's at least amusing me...which was really the whole point anyway.

Essentially...picture me as a vampire and you'll understand the wackiness that will ensue.  Too bad it's not really a valid choice in real life.  I'd have so much fun.  I sure as hell wouldn't whine about the human condition, nor put up with being that tortured soul bullshit.  I never understood the drama of those "deep" vampires who whined about what they were.  If anything I'd probably use it as an excuse to have more fun...imagine all the wonderful trouble I'd get into.  Ha ha.

We'll see how long this gig lasts...I actually have two bodies of work going at the same time.  Both are personal...I'll write for me just because it's fun.

Damn, I'm tired....off to grab some coffee and watch the burlesque movie I found on netflix before the demons awake.

Making the decision to end the "Crap on Maggie" week myself

Except for the few highlights of this week, most of it has just been crap.  People have been mean and thoughtless to me...kids have been nuts...burlesque meeting was cancelled yesterday because of the weather (there was no weather...just flurries Friday night)...everything that's gone on has just turned me into a big ball of mess.

So..screw it.  This morning I put on my head phones and shook my butt and danced while doing dishes.  I'm tired of dealing with thoughtlessness, with drama, with people being tools, with people living with blinders on....with people only acting like they care about me when it's convenient.  I don't know why so many people have bought moron tickets for the New Year, but I'm not having it.

I'm just going to do what I do...play and shake my ass.  Anyone who wants to hang with me, it's now your job to convince me you're worth my time.  If you can't make time to play with me and treat me like a princess, there's the door.  I can always party on my own.

More on the burlesque

I'm bouncing around the house.  I'm just happy...so excited...laughing, joking, bawdy, silly.  There will be no auditions today.  It's been decided that it's just a meet and greet.  That's pretty great considering it gives me time to get out my Carmen Electra Learn to Strip stuff and actually attempt to get a routine together to go along with my throaty singing.  And I have time to find my feather boas...and time to find my lace up boots from my goth days and see if I can still wear them for at least a half an hour.  I'm completely over the moon.

I've spent the past few days (in my copious amount of free time) pricing new corsets and bustles and stockings and fishnets. I've watched tutorials on how to apply false eyelashes (because when I try, it's a hot mess).

I'm supposed to be more frightened than this.  How strange?  Instead I'm just becoming ever more confident and saucy.  I'm becoming jazzed like I used to be when I was in dance recitals.  Wow...who knew this all was still in there.  I thought that part of me was gone...the performer.  She's been quiet for 25 years (minus when I have a drink in hand dancing at a club that is).  Hell, she didn't even come out for choir in high school (one of you remembers the girl who only sang when she felt like it).  Damn, I've missed her...and I know damn sure the world ain't ready for her.  Oh well...tee hee hee.

So I'm going to get my hair done (not because of the meeting...it's just a coincidence) and get all bubbly hanging out with my hair dresser (which she keeps encouraging because there's just "something about me"), let her play with my hair because she loves it when I let her..and now she has a purpose.  I'm going to let out this damn inner freak and embrace her and live again.

What a strange ride my life is becoming....and I couldn't be happier.

First...the song I probably will perform....when the auditions happen




Second...this song just screams burlesque and the girl I'm going with loves Rob Zombie, too.  I sense a potential routine!!  I wonder how hard it is to get tassels on pasties to twirl in opposite directions...hmmm....guess one never knows until they try!!  Tee hee hee.