A blog about whatever randomosity my fevered mind conceives.

Posts tagged “Television

Brought to you by the letter ‘D’…

Okay, I’ve come to the conclusion that I SUCK lately; at least as a blogger. I had two poems and a handful of other songs that I wanted to come back and post yesterday, but time just got away from me… again. In my defence, I am sick – damn kids! – and I’ve got a million and one little tasks on my agenda right now (mostly annoying and somewhat mundane things like sorting 2 ½ TB of computer files). Alas, it is what it is. I have some things to do this morning, and than I will try to find some time to devote (exclusively) to my blog and – of course – catching up on all of yours. Before I do anything, I’m going to leave you with a song and a confession…

Now, rewatching this video makes me greatly question my own libido, but I must plead guilty to having had a major crush on Billy Idol for more than half of my life. This crush remained incredibly strong until the point when I became addicted to Buffy the Vampire Slayer (wow, why stop at one embarrassing confession?) and replaced Idol in my fantasies with James Marsters. Yes, I am a special girl.

Dancing With Myself – Billy Idol

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Challenge Day 27: What’s the best thing going for you right now?

At this exact moment in time, the best thing I have going for me is a little peace and quiet, and a hot cup of coffee; perfect silence in my world is hard to come by, and so when I manage to grab a slice, I like to savour the hell out of it. Of course, this little pleasure is not meant to last long, whereas I have many wondrous things in my life that – while perhaps not eternal – are designed to keep me smiling and laughing for some time to come.

The very best of the best – the cream of the crop – would have to be my family…  

Because of the way that I grew up in the world that I grew up in, I never wanted (or expected myself to) settle down and have children. At some point I even thought about joining the army just to get away; I pictured myself in a long life of singledom with the occasional hook-up to meet any physical needs I might have – you know what I mean.

Even as a little kid, when a group of us would play house or what have you, I was something like the single working neighbour-lady; she was often a little neurotic. When we’d play ‘wedding’ I was usually the preacher, occasionally the groom, but never the bride.

As I got older and began my experimentation with the dating scene, heartbreak and soul-ache only served to solidify my aversion to all things denoting domestication. There was no way I was going to have children and sit around playing someone’s dutiful wife while they ran around town doing whatever the hell it was that I thought all men would eventually do. No sir, I was going to get out of my home town and see the world and never be tied down to anyone or anything.

Flash forward to the present, here I am playing the roll of the dutiful wife with two little’uns at my side. How the hell did that happen?

The easy answer; life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans… and sometimes, life knows what’s best for you even when you don’t.

What I didn’t understand growing up was that family could be the most amazing thing in the world. A real family gives you love and support. They’re a never failing shoulder when you’re sad, strong arms to hold you when you’re having a hard time staying on your own two feet, and a well placed joke or two to coax a smile to your lips just when you think you’ll never smile again. They’re the ones that keep your secrets, eat your kitchen disasters – pretending to like it even when you know it’s terrible – and are constantly there to give you a hand when you stumble. Real family is bloody amazing.  

Growing up I scoffed at things on TV like families sitting around having what we used to call ‘Theo moments’ (for those of you who didn’t grow up in the 80s, that’s a Cosby Show reference). I guffawed at the TV dad coming in, setting down his lunch pail, and saying, “Honey, I’m home!”. I mocked people who lived in houses with little white picket fences, and at the very concept of a ‘soccer mom’…

Funny how things change.

Conflicts in our house are not solved with screaming and violence… we actually have those ‘Theo moments’; which always brings a twitch of a grin to my lips. My man does come in the door and shout out, “Honey, I’m home!” even it is just to make me laugh. I don’t have a picket fence, but I do have a white fence; the boards run parallel, but it’s close enough; and while my oldest doesn’t play soccer, she is on the basketball team, and I do attend every single game.

Yes, if a seventeen year old me was to pop into the future for a glimpse, she’d ridicule my life while never really believing it to be valid… but I know that girl well enough to say – with all certainty – that deep, deep down, I have the life she’s always secretly wanted.

Life isn’t perfect; it wasn’t designed to be perfect; but it’s pretty damn good and I can say – without an ounce of doubt – that my family is prime the reason for that.