Crash and Burn Before Takeoff

I shouldn't have expressed so much excitement at the prospect of going to visit the town  where James Dean is buried. Literally minutes after I posted about going to Indiana this week and taking a road trip from where I would be staying to where James Dean is buried, I got a text from my daughter's friend saying that she was in way too much pain from her surgery to tolerate guests even if they were there to help out, and could we reschedule for maybe next week? Well, I could, but my daughter can't. So. The trip has been canceled. That is my life in a blog post. One minute I'm all worked up about something, and the next fate picks me up by the collar and throws me into a brick wall. Little does life know that I bought a hammer and chisel....

Once in a Lifetime

So. I am going to Indiana with my daughter this week to visit a friend of hers who just had surgery. I wasn't going to go because of school, but I caught up on all of my assignments and spring break starts next week anyway, so I figured heck, why not live a little? And then I found out that the friend lives an hour and forty five minutes north of Fairmount. Where James Dean is buried.

For those of you who don't know, I have been obsessed with James Dean for a good five years now. If I passed on this trip, it is very highly unlikely that the opportunity will come along again. And I would kill myself. Not really, but you know what I mean.

Crap!

Why oh why did I click on the link to take me to the "new" Blogger interface? I hate it! I want the old one back! it's to busy for my tastes (which is somewhat ironic, since I am ADD and supposedly, we LIKE "busy").

Has It Been That Long?

My daughter keeps asking me why I don't blog anymore. The truth is, I have no idea. Maybe it's just one of those things I started and was destined to outgrow, much like most of the things in my life. I think, though, that this is one thing I should continue doing. I get so restless sometimes, and I never know what to do with myself so I end up wasting a perfectly good day doing nothing.

 So...seeing as how it is New Year's Eve, and the 4th anniversary of the beginning of this blog (yes, I am counting the original one that got deleted when I changed my Google profile), I find it only fitting to begin blogging again on a (hopefully) regular basis.

What I'm Doing For Spring Break

A couple of weeks ago, I got a phone call from Ashley, my youngest daughter. She was in a shop called "Vintage", and she wanted to know, if I had a choice, which one of these would I pick?

I told her I appreciated the thought, but I have a thing about drinking anything out of someone's head.

 




So she bought me this poster instead:

 Last summer, Ashley was in San Diego,California. She went there with some friends to pick up a vehicle. I jokingly told her that she should go up to LA, find James Dean's star, and take a picture of it for me. She said they weren't going to be anywhere near LA, and even if they did go, that would be the last thing she'd be thinking of doing. I didn't figure she would, but I had to ask. I had almost completely forgotten about it until one night in early July, she called me.
                  A: Hi, mom. We're on Hollywood Boulevard. We've been looking for James Dean's star but we can't find it. Where is it?
                ME (after I had stopped hyperventilating): It's not on Hollywood Boulevard. It's on Vine Street. 1719 Vine Street.
                 A: Wow. You know the exact address? (Pause) Wait...I forgot this is you. Well, we'll find it and then I'll email you a picture.
              ME: Oh my God! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You are the best kid ever!

I spent the next half hour dancing around the house until she called to tell me to check my email. This is what I got:

She's the only one of my four daughters who has ever gotten me anything that had to do with James Dean. I'm going to visit her during Spring Break, and she told me that she would spend some time before I came
 looking for more places with James Dean memorabilia so we could go shopping. What a kid, huh?

Friday Felines

 Because I've got nothing better to do with my time...

There's a Point to This...I Just Wish I Knew What It Was

I can't sleep again. It's not that I'm not tired; I am. I just have way too much on my mind right now, and when my brain goes into overdrive I'm pretty much powerless to stop it. I'm still trying to write that stupid essay for my Written Communications class. I'm supposed to read a description of my temperament (Idealist) and "describe and analyze how the results mirror my perceptions of myself". I can't explain the way I am. I just am. 

How do I explain why I can't stand conflict of any kind, or why I'd rather sit in a darkened room watching James Dean movies, or that I have imaginary conversations with people who aren't there? I am not crazy, but I just might come off that way to someone who doesn't know me all that well. Especially someone like my instructor who, because this is an online class, I probably will never come face to face with. I don't relish the idea of people who don't know me making judgments based on what they hear without actually knowing me. 

But, thinking about it that way, maybe it's just his way of trying to get to know me by the way I explain myself to him. This is not psychology, though. It's writing. I have not always shown a lot of my true nature to people because the less they know about what it takes to hurt me, the better. There aren't too many people I trust with my secrets, and even the ones that know them don't know all of them. 


I'll write the essay and hope that it's satisfactory to what the instructor is looking for, both in form and content. After all, one of the traits of an Idealist is the need to please.