on the subject of...

November 29, 2007

on the subject of...
MAKE UP
I hate lipstick. Unless it's red. Park Avenue Red, to be precise. When I do wear make up, it takes me about 30 seconds to apply it. Eyeliner, mascara, some Burts on my lips. And then I'm out the door.* * *I wonder if wearing make up is a job requirement for dental hygienists. All you see as you peer up at them from your vulnerable slack-jawed vantage point is their eyes. Beautiful, eye shadowed peekaboos staring into your mouth as they scrape out the leftovers.

DEATH
A dog was shot across the street from my house on Thanksgiving morning. When I heard the gunshot, I was sitting in the living room with my cranky son on my lap while my daughter slept fitfully in a crib in their bedroom. Immediately, I asked Jeremy to check on her, terrified that the bullet had somehow made its way inside our house. Turns out both she and the dog were fine. Now I worry that the dog (who was shot by a cop because it had charged him and a neighbor) is going to jump the fence again and attack my kids as they follow me like baby ducks into and out of the car.* * * My grandmother isn't doing so well. She's old, and that's just how it goes. But she's my grandmother, and I am not quite ready for her to go.* * * Sometimes, when Jeremy wants to go to the store to pick up some smokes or milk or ice cream, I worry that he's going to get into an accident and die on the way there. I want to ask him not to go. Twenty minutes later, when he comes back through the door, I exhale and chastise myself for being so fucking morbid.

MARRIAGE
It really is a compromise. I get it now. My whole life I've done whatever the hell I wanted, or else. These days, it seems more and more selfish to continue pitching fits over stupid shit so I'm learning to compromise. He wants to watch football, I want to be social. Why don't we invite people over to watch the game? Perfect. He wants to sleep in, I want to make breakfast. Hmmm. Not so perfect. We're still working that one out.

MUSIC
In high school, I worked at a trendy record store. There I discovered The Smiths and The Pixies and Bryan Ferry and the Cocteau Twins. And so much more. It was such a huge part of my life and of my identity. It seems kind of strange to me that I now listen almost exclusively to NPR and the classical music station. If I'm in a mood, I might find the oldies station while driving around, or sing along to R&B jams on 105.9. But, usually, I want either calm or quiet, and I'll eventually switch back to KUT or 89.5. When did I get so old and boring?* * * I love the living shit out of the Arcade Fire. Maybe that's yesterday's news to all of you in the know, but it still brings me to tears sometimes.* * *I want to find a group of women and sing. Like in college, with the Moiragettes. Or in Catholic school, in the choir. I don't care how cheesy the music or how old the ladies. I just want to stand in a group of women and let it all out. Maybe I should join the local Baptist church and beg to sing in their choir.