Burgeoning…

Complain, complain, complain, complain… you get the picture… or should I continue?  I feel like I’ve been very complainy lately… in all reality I’m a lucky gal and there are people who are dealing with far worse things than I ever have to imagine… and those people could teach me a lesson or 16 in how to keep it positive.  I met a lady tonight… sweetest lady… animated… smiling every time I glanced over at her from my post at the front of the room where I’d been singing… and my eyes kept finding her in the crowd (aka mini crowd… 20 tops), because she made me feel at ease.  It wasn’t until after I’d finished and was talking to some of the sweet folk in the crowd that I noticed she was in a wheelchair and had no legs.  I found myself so inspired by her.  I didn’t feel sorry for her… I wanted to be like her when I grew up… except that I’ve already grown up and I’m far from anywhere near her caliber of positive radiance.  I don’t know her… for all I know she’s someone else behind closed doors… but for some reason just witnessing her being for the few minutes that I did, I highly doubt it.

I’m like waxing poetic or some such nonsense.  Yo, Shakespeare… move over… WhitPeare be up in this here joint and she’s ready to move onto your turf, yo!  My newest complaint is the burgeoning (yes, that’s a word I enjoy using… especially out of context) shooting pains in my head, ear, and right side of my teeth.  It took me a long while to figure out what it was, and as it kept getting worse, I finally gave in and went to the doctor on Friday morning.  It seems I have 800 gallons of earwax (TMI TO THOSE OF YOU EATING LUNCH… ESPECIALLY TAPIOCA PUDDING) pushing up against my eardrum and causing this massive pressure-filled painfest in my head region.  I went to my primary care physician who stuck this lighted-up-stick down my ear and tried to scrape it out… and every time I flinched because he was whapping a light saber against my eardrum, he’d tell me, boy, you have sensitive ears.  Um… no… I’m thinking every person who has someone sticking something down their eardrum would do the exact same thing.  He sent me home with a home remedy of putting hydrogen peroxide in my ear twice a day for 3 days and then on the 3rd day try to flush it out with warm water in a syringe.  Yeah… that made it worse… it’s even more clogged up now and pain pills only help it for an hour… which is cool and all but then you have to wait 5 more hours to take another one.   I called an ENT this morning and begged them to get me in to suction it out tomorrow… I have never been more excited in my life to go to a doctor… just to be able to sleep more than 1 hour at a time will be like I done won the bacon-eating contest.    Bring it, Porky!

The moral of the story… Q-Tips… bad news… those headphones you stick in your ear… bad news… Whitney’s eardrums… more bad news…   To sum it up… don’t be a dope and hydrogen peroxide is the devil!

Question of the Day:   Do you use Q-tips?  DON’T… JUST DON’T DO IT! 

PS – Happy belated momma’s day to my sweet momma and also to all the mommas out there who may be reading these words.  Y’all deserve some sort of medal!  I hope your kids spoiled you.

PPS – Happy 40th Birthday (snicker) to my Padre tomorrow!!  Hopefully the folks at the assisted living center throw him a party like only they know how to… prune juice and Metamucil… bring it!

Randomly Stoop-Id Observations…

I have a new thing to argue with the insurance company about… yep… 4 months later I’m still arguing about my broken wrist bills… which number more than the smart people in an insurance company call center.   That’s not a stereotype… it’s a scientific fact I have taken great lengths to prove after having talked to pretty much every single one of them over the last 4 months.  For the first however many months, I was arguing back and forth between the health insurance company and the auto insurance company because of the invisible automobile accident I was in when I broke my wrist… fyi scraping the ice off of your car window now counts as an automobile accident.  I wonder how much insurance company arguing I can get in this summer when I attempt to chisel off the 4 feet of bird doo on my car windows.  My new argument?  The thousand-dollar fee I was charged from seeing an out-of-network provider… which totes makes sense if I had any choice in the matter, but this out-of-network doctor I saw just so happened to be in the emergency room on the night I broke the dagnabbed thing.  And obviously, caring about which doctor was in-network when I felt like I’d been run over by a 500-pound linebacker was the first thing that popped into my mind.  ”Golly gee, Mr. Doctor… you don’t live in the Blue Shield network?  I don’t think I can allow you to provide me pain relief in the form of hallucinogenic Percocet.”   Besides that, you don’t get a choice of doctor when you go to the dagnabbed emergency room… there’s one… end of story… the other option is to go see Homeless Joe on the corner for a stash of the good stuff.

So, that’s my new debate club topic.  I suck at debating with them too because my argument never comes out of my mouth as eloquently as my brain seems to think it should… it’s usually something like… DUH… well that’s the stoop-idest thing I’ve ever heard!?!?  Can you tell why I won Miss Congeniality at the Junk Yard Smelly Pageant?  This one lady the other day wasn’t quite getting the fact that I had no choice in the matter of which doctor I saw in the ER.  She kept saying that I could have asked if he was in-network and then if he wasn’t, I had the choice to leave rather than incur the thousand-dollar fee.  Sure, I had the choice to leave… my arm all bent in a weird shape like I’d decided to turn into Gumby… why don’t I run out for a burger first until change of shift.

America, the Beautiful… the home of the fries and the insurance companies trained at the Chuck-E-Cheeses!

If this comes off a little snarky it’s because my teeth have decided to turn on me and instead of eating food, they’ve decided it would be a great idea to throb painfully like I done stuck my mouth with a thorny rosebush plant.  Two dental visits/bills later and all I got was this aching gumline.  Bring it, Disneyland!

Question of the Day:  Do you enjoy debating?  Any tips?

Tee hee hee… SPRING!  No matter that it’s like we ain’t in Kansas anymore, Toto, the last 2 days and nights… there are buds!

Try…

If you would have told me in December that the “spring” semester (notice how spring has been quoted… more like winter, winter, winter, winter with a few days of spring nearish the end) would have taken me on such a fligflabbed roller coaster ride and I was expected to ride said roller coaster without barfing and still get good grades, I’d have told you you were insane… and I’d also have told you your zipper was down even if it wasn’t because on the inside I’m secretly like a 12-year-old boy.  I said secretly… shhhhhh…

I am pretty certain multi-tasking is not my strongest skillset.  Two things cannot be going on in my brain at the same time… it’s a known fact… obsessing about everything usually comes before anything sane.   And that’s the thing, I would have told you that about myself ALL the way back in December, which sitting from my perch of almost-May seems like 800000000 years ago… could it really have only been 4 months ago!?!?  Seriously!?!?  I could have told you that about myself because I’d never had to experience it… and I’m totes an expert when it comes to everything about myself.

I didn’t take into account the power of trying… and as I’m typing this, albeit before taking my Biology final this week, I am sitting here with an A in each class… Literature and Biology… that A in Biology could turn into a B if I totally mess up the comprehensive final… but knock on wood and try… okay!?  Gosh… negative newt!  And so my expert opinion about myself in December was wrong.  I tried and I came out alive on the other side… not too shabby for a self-proclaimed ADD OCD psychotic.

My theme song for this semester… my favorite song… love, love, love… P!nk’s Try… I’m sure there are 8 billion ways to interpret said song, but my interpretation is the best one… take my word for it…

Ever worried that it might be ruined
And does it make you wanna cry?
When you’re out there doing what you’re doing
Are you just getting by?
Tell me are you just getting by by by

Where there is desire
There is gonna be a flame
Where there is a flame
Someone’s bound to get burned
But just because it burns
Doesn’t mean you’re gonna die

You gotta get up and try try try
You gotta get up and try try try
You gotta get up and try try try

Basically, no matter what you want to accomplish comes with it’s hardships and unpleasant moments, etc., but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna die… so shut up, get up, and TRY!  Ignore this synopsis and listen to the music instead.

PS – P!nk is Lindser’s hairspiration on occasion… they could be like twins from anotha’ motha’, yo diggity.

PPS – Now that the semester is over, I aim to use this song to tackle my healthy lifestyle issue.  Just because work is busier don’t mean you don’t have time to exercise.  Seriously now.  Quit right there.

Question of the Day:  What’s been your favorite get-going song of late?  

Getting It Down In Writing…

This blog of ramblings has really run the gamut of purposes… psychotic therapy… public humiliation… show-and-tell-the-stranger… but there’s always been at least one theme (besides the public humiliation one) and that is a sort of journal of my life.  So one day 800 years from now, they can dig up my writings from the computer graveyard and be like… what in the world is she fligflabbing talking about!?  I know my one (and maybe only) forray into theater was a few weeks ago, but I still needed to write about it before the “memory fades” and all I remember is that I almost fainted 5 billion times…. accurate number by the way.

I can’t remember anything… THE END.  (There’s an out for all of you who could give a rat’s patookus… see how generous I am?)

I had never heard of The Garden before I auditioned… and at the actual callback audition they had me sight read through the main solo I had… and I ain’t gonna lie… I didn’t like it.  The song, I mean (sight reading as well but that’s besides the point).  I thought the melody was ugly.  I kept an open mind, though, went home and downloaded the soundtrack off of iTunes because everything is better when you get orchestral background and a chic who actually knows how it should sound to sing it.  Problem was… after listening to the original recording (which you can listen to here on YouTube), I still wasn’t impressed.  Blugh.  That is such a bummer… because to sing a song that you don’t like is hard… it usually sounds like you’re singing a song that you don’t like.   Novel, right!?   So, I listened to it on a neverending loop of psychotic and each time I disliked it even more than the time before.  It’s kind of like that annoying Call Me Maybe song that I hated from the get go but that didn’t stop it from coming on the radio every time I turned it on… sort of.

When I was a teeny bopper and I was taking vocal lessons, my teacher once told me that no matter how many mistakes you make in a song, as long as you’re singing it with sincerity and emotion, no one will care about anything else.  That’s always stayed with me… emotion is key.  Let’s be honest… I don’t have the best voice in the world… my high note range is null and void… when I’m nervous my vibrato can get really machine gunny… etc., etc., etc.  The one thing I have vocally that not everyone else has is the ability to inject emotion into what I’m singing.  That’s when it hit me… the key to getting to like this song is to attach myself to the story of this old and barren olive tree.  I learned I had a lot in common with her.  The main solo is called What Good Will I Ever Be?  Pretty sure you can find that phrase in every journal entry from age 12 to 18.

The Olive Tree is meant to be an allegorical figure and on the surface, the most obvious symbol is that she’s a woman who is having a hard time bearing children.  I have thought that children are one of the things I will miss out on in my life… and sometimes that has made me sad.  I have been taught all through my life in church that the reason we are here on this earth is to have children and make families… What good will I ever be there?

Another thing this barren olive tree could represent is a person with depression, down on themselves, and longing for the glimpse of light and love that will take them out of the depths of despair.  Been there too.  As I was pondering the words and applying them to all different aspects of my life, I realized… I have been the olive tree.  This song is a plea that should be so familiar to me… and I grew to like the song because it was a way for me to express my own feelings through this character.  I should note that on initial listening to the music, this was the only song I disliked… the other songs I loved.  Maybe subconsciously it hit too close to home?

I didn’t mean to delve this far into the depressive side of things… but my fingers went there and I usually obey.  I was going to make this all light and airy… like the pre-show ritual every night included chanting the words to the songs aka a satanic cult, then praying the cult away, after which I hyperventilated into my shirt, fastened my glasses to my bra strap (they told me the spotlight glared off of them too much), hyperventilated some more, and then mocked throwing up whilst practicing faux Yoga moves.  I recommend it all… totes a great ritual.

All in all, twas a great experience for me to get me out of my comfort zone, to meet some uber fun and talented people, and to learn that despite almost fainting 5 billion times, I was able to stay upright… and I consider that there thing a success!

Question of the Day:  What do you first gravitate toward in a song (i.e., words, melody, beat, voice, etc.)?  

PS – Some of my family far far away on Judea’s Plains wanted the recording of me singing, so I bootlegged a copy and have uploaded it to YouTube at an unlisted address.  The reason it’s unlisted is for copyright purposes… and I don’t need some random person watching the lump in the background.  If you’d be interested in hearing it (the recording is not the greatest), either leave your email address in the comments or send me an email at whitney78@gmail.com and I will be happy to send you the links.  Otherwise, consider yourself saved!

PPS – Thoughts and prayers and comforting vibes sent to all the people who have been suffering unbelievable tragedies this week.  Boston… Texas… stay strong and know that this Utah chic has been thinking of you often.

I snapped a picture of the stage on the last night… this is the view from the Ram in the thicket’s space.  That there big tree in the back was the olive tree I sat next to…

 

 

Open Mouth… Insert Foot…

This past Friday I had an appointment with a guidance counselor up at the university.  I had originally tried to schedule one with my usual “Undeclared Major” department, which I’m sure is full of all sorts of folk who have a hard time picking which cereal to eat in the morning.  I’m not only a member… I’m the club president!  When I called, though, the chic who answered was sure that I needed to make an appointment with a counselor in whose department I was thinking of majoring.  ”You’ll like get so much more help… like… I ate Frosted Flakes this morning!”  That put me on the spot, because I’ve really only had 34 years to decide what I wanted to do when I grow up… way to put on the pressure, chiquita burrita.  :P  I blurted out that she should transfer me to the English counselor’s office.  English is real safe.  I speak it daily…. except for that year when pig latin was big at the middle school.  The lady in the English counselor’s office insisted I become even more specific because there were at least 3 different branches of an English major and each branch had a different counselor.  Oh Miracle Whip on the Sahara, people… who do you think I am?  Anne Landers?   I asked her to go through my choices of cereal English majors… English teacher… English – Creative Writing… English – Technical Writing.  I think there was one more, but the fact that I don’t remember what it was means that I wouldn’t be good at it.

Let’s be honest… I would rather dump a pile of cow crap on my noggin than stand in front of a class of kids or teenagers… Teaching… OUT!  Secondly, pretty sure the last time I became rich creative writing was… oh… NEVER!  PASS.  That left me with Technical Writing, so I blurted that one out and then asked if she had a bowl of Wheaties on hand.  Boring and bland… blah, blah, blah, blah.  It’s the technical word that makes me want to put my head through a brick wall.  I was determined to make the most of my appointment, though.  I went in with an open mind and an empty wallet (stupid wrists are expensive, yo!).  The counselor was super nice… she talked 8000 words per minute, which might be a requirement for writing technically, but I’m not sure.  Before I knew it, an hour had passed and I was walking out of her office with a print out of my hypothetical schedule for the next FOUR years… that’s how long it will take me to get a degree if I go part time, every semester, including summer.  I did the math… in 4 years I will be pruning in the eye regions and will probably need a walker to walk around outside campus in the winter.  Who am I kidding… I needed a walker to walk around in the winter at the age of 12…. stupid clutz genes!    Oh yeah…. she also told me that there was not an online program for such a degree, so I’d need to take classes on campus.

To sum it up… I’m now the semi-proud owner of a technically boring major… but I’m still going in with an open mind.  The classes I need to take this fall will determine whether or not I’ll love or hate the topic… I’m crossing my fingers for semi-like.  I can handle that.

Question of the Day:  Did you enjoy what you chose to major in?  

PS – Thank you, again, to the family and friends who came to see me last week.  I appreciated your sweetness in going out of your way to make this chic smile… and that be the truth!

 

Jell-O Knees…

Jell-O is like the official food of Utah… except in Utah a Jell-O dish isn’t a Jell-O dish until it has something grated into it that has no right being inside of it!  I’m looking at you carrots!  That’s the best definition I can come up with for how my knees behaved during opening night of The Garden tonight.  In all my years of singing, I hadn’t realized how intimidating it would be to stand on a stage with a big ole spotlight trained on only me in front of an audience of thousands dozens… and with nothing to hide behind!  I suggested I could hide behind the big tree I stand next to, but for some reason no one thought that was a good idea… nor did they think my joke was funny… spoil sports.

So, my legs are shaking violently standing up there in a heavenly ball of light and all I can think is… please don’t faint… please don’t faint… also, remember to buy deodorant.  And once your legs start to shake, there’s no stopping them.  It’d be like stopping kitty Lucy-Fur from cleaning her nether regions in front of company… ain’t happening!  I’m proud to report I did not faint tonight… but I still have 3 more nights to accomplish said goal.  KNOCK ON WOOD!  I’ll bring a carrot to grate should that happen… best believe it!

Question of the Day:  What do you do to calm your nerves?  

PS – I am pretty sure I have the best family and friends alive on the planet.  Thank you to those who came tonight and those who have tickets for other nights.  I really am a blessed girl.

 

PPS- Karen… this is Maxine… you need to become acquainted with her… she’s right up your alley!  :P

RETIRED HEALTH MESSAGE FROM MAXINE

As I was lying in bed pondering the problems of the world, I rapidly realized that I don’t really give a rat’s hiney. It’s the tortoise life for me!
1. If walking is good for your health, the postman would be immortal.
2. A whale swims all day, only eats fish, drinks water, and is fat.
3. A rabbit runs and hops and only lives 15 years.
4. A tortoise doesn’t run and does nothing, yet it lives for 450 years.
And you tell me to exercise?? I don’t think so.
I’m retired. Go around me.

Get Yo’ Crap Together…

The limit of stupid to the nth degree is named Knit-Whit!  I have lost my mind.  Alzheimer’s has set in at age 34 and I plan on moving into the padded wall portion of the facility as soon as the warden releases me.  BLUGHHHHH!!!  Take that and smoke it.  Why am I ranting like a lunatic?  Because it’s punishment for forgetting to do TWO quizzes before the due date these past few weeks in my Biology class.  I’m not too optimistic about my Unit 3 closed-book exam that I need to go up to the University to take by Saturday either.  It’s a combination of having too many things on my mind at once and pretty sure the other part is young-onset Alzheimer’s… what’s my name again?  Basically, I just need someone to volunteer (this ain’t no paying gig… who do I look like?  Oprah?) to follow me around 24/7 with a pen and a notebook and whap me upside the head when I need to do something.  I don’t care if your whapping is hard as long as I’m still able to sit up unassisted for at least 30 minutes.  Send your applications to someone else because I’ll misplace them and/or forget why I’m getting them.

In other news… my car, which was supposedly fixed up at the service station last week when they replaced my fuel line is once again playing that game where Beulah the Buick drives me to a place just fine and dandy, but then refuses to start when I want to drive her back home.  Does that mean she has been traumatized by my driveway?  Is she subconsciously blaming herself for when I slipped on the ice and broke my wrist whilst cleaning her windshield and now she can no longer face the pavement that it happened on?  GET OVER YOURSELF, BEULAH!!  Back up to the service station.  Note to self:  consider getting a younger less emotionally-needy car next car purchasing time.

In yet further news… The Garden opens in exactly ONE WEEK from today, which means my Alzheimeric brain best get it’s butt in gear to memorize this whole fligflabbed book of music.  It’s really a powerful program (if you pay attention and listen to the words).  If anyValleyites are still interested in coming and haven’t bought tickets, I’d recommend buying them in advance at that above-mentioned link on account of the fact that you will save a whole 2 bucks per ticket if you buy them online… and that’s enough to buy a Diet Dr. Pepper… x2… right, Madre!?  According to Madre… happiness is going to 7-11 on Saturday, filling up a cup she found in the backseat of the car with Diet Dr. Pepper hoping to get the refill price, and then getting it for free because the cup she used to refill was smaller than an average refiller cup.  Now that’s happiness… in Madre’s world.   Meanwhile, in my world happiness is discovering a half eaten bag of M&Ms in my desk drawer.  They were probably 3 years old… but they’re like astronaut food… and that meant that 3 years ago I didn’t actually scarf down the whole bag in one sitting… that there was an accomplishment for any year.  Take note of that Whitney of the year 2013… okay?

Question of the Day:  How is your memory?  What do you use to remind yourself to do something?