Sometimes, Melissa runs her legs. Sometimes, she runs her mouth.
I bought this book for fun. I am not a grad student. I am not a psychologist by trade. I am not a literature professor or English teacher. I just bought this book because it sounded cool. Okay I was a psychology major in undergrad but that was YEARS AGO!
TOTAL NERD!
Don’t get me wrong. I love a little HO HO HO as much as the next gal but some of the decorations and traditions surrounding Christmas are just plain creepy.
For example, this is a picture of the baby Jesus in our town’s nativity scene.
What the hell? The hair? Those outstretched arms. The seams! Is baby Jesus a blow up doll?
Oh and it doesn’t match the three wise men or Mary or anything else either.
So I am not sure. Did someone in days of yore steal the baby Jesus that matched the wise men and other “figures” and this was the cheap ghetto creepy ass replacement? I do not know. I just know that I have had nightmares about that thing.
Other things that have the potential for nightmares, ELF ON THE SHELF! The backstory, the Elf on the Shelf is Santa’s spy sitting in the house watching the children to know if they have been naughty or nice. there’s nothing creepy about Stalking at all, even if it is cute little elves.
AnD LOOK AT IT! That’s a “I will burn your house down while you sleep” expression if I ever saw one.
Source: flickr.com via Jaime on Pinterest
*shudder*
Yes I am doing Holidailies AGAIN! Strangely enough, I haven’t been blogging on a regular basis for quite a while so this should be crazy interesting.
I am Melissa. I live in Arkansas. I write on here. I run a lot. I eat a lot. I practice law. I practice piano.
I am currently hating that Red Solo Cup song. I have even gone so far as to compare it to Herpes. it’s never going to completely go away. dammitall. I’m eagerly awaiting the release of the Fincher version of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. I am all over the Trent Reznor remake of the Immigrant song. The last movie I saw was the Muppets.
yeah this is all trivia but I will be writing later. I need my sleep.
My alma mater made these keychains. They are called “disco tray keychains.” For many many years, the cafeteria has used the same vendor for their cafeteria trays. Most of the trays are a solid green similar to the color of the keychain. A small percentage of the trays, however, are this faux marble with the same color green as a background with a gold metalic vein running through them. These trays were called “disco trays” They got mixed up with all of the other trays and it was pure chance as to whether you would get a disco tray when you stepped up to get your food. So, if you got a disco tray, it was a sign that you were going to have a lucky day.
This year, like most years, I walked in the Little Rock Race for the Cure. I know there is a lot of controversy about all of the pink items and those criticisms aren’t completely unfounded. Ask questions and read the fine print if you are going to buy something whose profits are going to benefit the Komen Foundation. In fact, I would say, “hey if you like pink, the item is cute, and you’d probably buy it anyway, buy it and consider any donation good gravy.”
But I like the races. Yeah, I have read snarky commentary on “what does ‘awareness of breast cancer mean?'” But at the race, survivors of Breast Cancer get their own special pink shirts. People run in memory or in honor of other people. The race itself is a celebration of life. It’s an acknowledgement that breast cancer affects the lives of loved ones. It’s an acknowledgement that we’re not alone in the struggle. Also, its’ a damn fine fun party atmosphere with bikers, marching bands, country line dancers, and a whole host of other folks.
you can’t beat that for a Saturday morning.
This was my time. They are a law firm in Little Rock.
Gotta love the firemen
You can’t talk about breasts without the naughty talk.
The Harley Davidson club shows us how it’s done.
I promise you every historically African American fraternity was represented this year.
The local TV station is on the route.
BELLY DANCERS dancing
TAE KWAN DO!
I told you. Everybody was there.
As you know, I like to run. I like to run to music. Some running purists say that running with music is cheating but they can kiss my fat ass. I need to burn some calories and if “love shack” keeps me going just that much longer than I am going to put on them tunes and move my butt.
I’m not the only pro-running with music person out there and as a result, play lists are one of the items that runners trade with each other like baseball cards.
Some people go through the trouble of estimating what song will be playing at what mile and have a certain order. I tend to just pick songs and put them on shuffle.
Here are some songs I have used on running playlists.
1. “Love Shack” B-52s
Come on, it’s trippy dippy happy. I’m in a Chrysler as big as a whale and we’re about to set sail! A lot of fun.
2. “Firestarter” Prodigy
3. “Sinnerman” Nina Simone
4. “Right Here, Right Now” by Fatboy Slim
5. “Power” Kanye West
6. “The Distance” Cake
7. “O Saya” from Slumdog Millionaire
8. “Hot and Cold” Katy Perry
9. “Hey Ya” Outkast
I hated high school. I hated the stupid rules. I was awkward and insecure. I got picked on just enough to stoke the fires of that insecurity. I began counting down the time until I graduated from there in tenth grade.
Somehow I ended up back in my hometown and on the committee to plan my high school’s 20 year class reunion.
I do believe this is the very definition of hell freezing over.
So I was the person who was in charge of finding the alums and telling them about the reunion. now a good majority of them were already on Facebook. It was fascinating. It was fascinating to see how people changed and how they stayed the same. It was fascinating to see what people remembered about high school. It was fascinating to see the people that I thought were so confident and together back then admit that they too had struggles. I guess that’s the point of high school— trying to make your way in an environment that doesn’t make sense when you don’t even know who you are yet.
Since it was such a small place with a graduating class of about 120 with a large portion of those same people starting with us in kindergarten, it really was like a family reunion. That’s not to say that each and every person was your favorite person in the whole world but at the same time you loved them all the same and are glad that they were around.
So I guess I kissed and made up with high school. I am glad I went. Apparently, everyone else was glad too.
Today is National Coming Out Day. As you know, I am in Arkansas but I went to a very liberal liberal arts college that celebrated Coming Out day with a dance every year I was there. In fact, the “joke slogan” of my college is “where the women are women and so are the men.”
I have seen the personal power that someone gains from being able to release some inner shame and tell the world exactly who they are. I have seen the shame associated with hiding. I have also seen the pain that comes from coming out and not being accepted by family and friends. In fact, I know someone who committed suicide in no small part due to his mother’s reaction.
It’s not feat coming out in these times. For every, it gets better campaign video, there are tens and hundreds of tales of bullying. Even people old enough to know better say hateful things like “gays should kill themselves” (hey Clint McCance). It’s not a small feat to come out in spite of these obstacles.
For each person who does so, I salute you. And there’s a lot of support out in the light once you get out here folks. There really is.
I’ve been thinking about death quite a bit lately. First, my high school’s twenty year class reunion was last weekend. I was on the committee. I was in charge of telling everyone and their mama about the reunion and making the memorials for the classmates who have died already. I put some “Billie Blue” ribbon on white pillar candles. I also made these memory books that were to be signed by my classmates. The books and candles would be given to a surviving member of the classmate’s family. Five of my classmates have died, including my dear friend Angela who died about 18 months ago.
As I was preparing these books and reading over the group message that showed the other members of the committee preparing the rest of the reunion, I couldn’t help thinking about my friend and what it would be like with here. I went to her grave and talked to her. Even though I think actually going to a grave involves magical thinking. IF your soul is not part of your body and is flying around in Heaven or can go anywhere it wants, why would it hang around at the cemetery? But for some reason, I get some sense of calm going out there. So I went out there and looked at her flowers and thought about our high school days.
I wonder what life would be like if she was still around. I wonder what her kids would be like. They live in Missouri with their Dad now and I can see the changes the accompany puberty in their facebook photos. I wonder where she hid her will. I can’t believe she didn’t have one. Sometimes I can hear her in the same place where I hear my conscience, telling me things. It’s not an auditory hallucination but it’s in the same place, that same hard to define place where you get a message that tells you this action is wrong.
About two days after my high school reunion, I found that my junior year prom date Brandon had killed himself. I wish I could say we were close friends but we weren’t. We both shared a speech and debate class. He was a senior and lived at the Baptist home. I never heard him talk about his parents and his only complaint about the Baptist home was that they wouldn’t let him listen to certain types of music. He nervously asked me to prom and I went. There was an after party and he asked me if I would like to go to that and I said yes. Then when prom arrived, we danced all night and ended up staying at a friend’s house watching movies.
Later, in speech and debate class, my other classmates all gathered around me asking about my date to the prom. Apparently, nerd love is a hot topic. He walked in on me talking about it, turned around, and didn’t speak to me until a couple of years later when I ran into him at a local fast food joint in my college town. It was a moment where I acted exactly like I was in high school.
When I saw him a few years later, he seemed happy to see me. He said something briefly about how he was in college and then partied to the point that he had to drop out. He said he was working but it was a very brief encounter and he didn’t give a phone number and I didn’t ask for his or give him mine. I’m not sure what that means in the grand scheme of things.
He found me on facebook and had mentioned that he wasn’t going to his high school reunion because he wasn’t happy about his life. Then his account went down. Then he refriended me. Then I found out he killed himself.
ANd later this same week I found out Steve Jobs died. Well I don’t know him. I liked his views on life and his commencement speech at Stanford University is one of the most profound things I have heard.
I have no great wisdom regarding all of these deaths other than I don’t understand why them and not three other people. I know eventually death catches up with all of us. I know that we will never completely know the effect we have on others or what we mean to other people. It seems that we, myself included, get so caught up in life or so scared of rejection that we never really tell people how we feel. It gets lost in the chatter.
The only thing I know is that no matter how much time we have, it’s never quite enough. There’s always something else we want to do. So go after what you want and do what makes you happy so long as it doesn’t involve hurting other people. That’s all I know right now.
Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure – these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart. —- Steve Jobs, Stanford University Commencement Speech 2005
When I grow up, I want to be just like Betty White.
© 2024 Melissa Runs
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑