Thursday, October 20, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Last spring I went on a road trip from Florida to Los Angeles, and although I had been dreading crossing the country on the somewhat desolate I-10, something amazing happened. I removed my nose from the computer and television screens and noticed the world around me! We tried to immerse ourselves in the local culture when we could, attempting to blend in despite our Yankee accents and Southern California beach attire. But more important than getting away from the rat race, road tripping allowed me an opportunity to reflect and reevaluate my life. By the time I got home, I was recharged.
So when my husband had to take his paintings to a solo exhibit in Washington State last week, I jumped at the chance to go with him. (Even though half the time I sound like a rock-star crazed, wanna-be groupie, I’m married to a great guy!) In the 1200 miles we drove, I waited for something to happen –answers to the mysteries of life perhaps. Instead of transforming to a higher state of consciousness, I ate way too much junk food, lost sleep on uncomfortable hotel mattresses and pulled a muscle in my back. While we did get to appreciate some homegrown scenery (see pic), I am still waiting for enlightenment. Maybe it will come when I least expect it. I hope so.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
I saw this pic of Keith Richards and Johnny Depp leaving a restaurant in London and flipped! I mean can you imagine hanging out with a rock-star legend and one of the hottest actors in Hollywood?
Word is that on the Pirates set the two men spent their down time relaxing with a few cocktails. Depp says that Keith drinks a mysterious concoction, and that he has “no idea what it is, because it looks like nuclear waste and it’s a combination only he would know.” It turns out that Johnny Depp’s a red-wine fan. Me too! So that got me thinking. If I were to, let’s say in my wildest fantasies, be partying with Keith and Johnny, what sort of wine would I be swirling, sniffing and sipping with two of the coolest cats on the planet? I imagine it’d be a heck of a lot more delicious than those in the under $20 section at BevMo! Oh well, until an invitation to Johnny’s vineyard in Southern France arrives, one can always dream. C’est la vie.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
When I was 12 years old, I fell in love with Mick Jagger. I celebrated my new boyfriend, hung posters of the Stones on my walls and bragged that my rock star was hotter than yours. I was taunted and teased because this wasn’t the 60s and Mick was old enough to be my father. But let’s face it, my father’s not that cool and neither is yours. Mick Jagger had became the symbol in which to pour all of my energy, the crazy pubescent hormones that seemed to be taking over. I know I’m not alone in my rock star passion. For the fan, the sexual energy brought to the stage doesn’t go unnoticed, and usually it’s the front man who embodies this
An appreciation for the music came later as a way to connect to a man that only lived in my fantasies. Steve Almond, in his memoir Rock and Roll Will Save Your Life, says that songs, “remind us that emotions are not an inconvenient and vaguely embarrassing aspect of the human enterprise but its central purpose. They make us feel specific things we might not have felt otherwise.” The lead singer is the one who awakens us, and if he happens to be wearing tight pants (or hardly anything at all!) how can we help but to fall wildly and madly in love?