Ticketmaster: Thine Enemy!

Alright, the jig is up Ticketmaster! I am on to you! I'm sharper then Cheddar baby, you can't fool this!

In the most "matter of fact" terms, Ticketmaster is a slut! Oh how she entices you with some of your most beloved artist coming to a town near you and that she is the only thing between you and 500 other people singing the same sweet verse in sync like some powerful children's choir, just less creepy. And oh how simple and easy it "seems". Sssooooo user-friendly (sarcasm if you are that dense). All you need to do is log on at the appropriate date and time and click a few simple buttons and TA-DA, beautiful, coveted golden tickets to the show of your choosing. Right? Right?????

But, Ticketmaster, being the slut that she is, NEGLECTS to tell you that she had already sold a whole bunch of these tickets in a pre-sale. A pre-sale that she holds sacred for the maybe 23 people who have American Express cards. So secretive that you didn't even have a clue that this was happening just a few days, ney HOURS before she promised to give you those tickets that you want so desperately! * Either way, you feel like a fool. Stupidly smiling about your day, keeping an eye on the clock because you have a date with Ticketmaster which will inevitably lead to a second date to the Band of Horses show. You idiot! Wipe that pathetic grin off your face, hate to break it to you but you've been two-timed! Don't believe me? Go ahead, log on at 9am just like she told you to and see what happens when you ask for 2 tickets for the best available, and type in that super cryptic word sensor thing and see what her response will be. I'll wait. Oh, what's that? She cannot meet your request? Wha???? But how can that be? She promised! You my friend have been swindled by the ticket slut. Don't fall completely apart, we've all been there my friend.

But to forewarn you a big meanie named Stubhub is going to add insult to injury. BIG TIME. Apparently there are a whole bunch of losers (who may or may not have an American Express card*) who have nothing better to do with their time then buy up a bunch of tickets to events they have absolutely no intention of going to! Then, in their apparent desperation to make a quick dollar and to get their jollies from ripping off innocent people, they go to Stubhub and re-sell these tickets for astronomical amounts!!! So you wanted to see Jens Lekman for $30, now you will have to shell out $125 to see him. Moo-ha-ha! (their evil laugh) Such a jerk. Just throwing it in your face, that they had a little something-something on the side with Ticketmaster that you had no i-d-e-a about. This is what you get for only wanting to spend a few enchanting hours under the melodies and lyrics of Fleet Foxes.

So your going to go through a lot of emotions. Who can you trust? Is loyalty even a thing anymore? How can people be so cruel? Does "big business" even care about the "little guy"? You are going to feel deserted, and beaten up. But know that you are not alone. We've all missed our promised Santigold, Beyonce, Radiohead, and Florence + The Machine tickets, only to end up in despair. But justice will prevail! We can conquer Ticketmaster. Expose her for what she is. Who's with me???

*A note to American Express card holders, I have no beef with you. I think you are great. But it seems like the only super mega rich have AE cards. So it is safe to say I will never have one. But I love your commercials. Like the ones back in the day with Jerry Seinfeld. Good stuff. Hey, now that we are pals, if you do happen to buy tickets for the Death Cab for Cutie show coming up, can you keep me in mind? Thanks!

Space-Time Continuum

Do you think that if you COULD go back in time and get the chance to have a re-do on one particular thing, that would alter everything? By changing one tiny little thing, everything would be changed? Well the theory of space-time continuum certainly thinks so!

All it takes is one distant memory of a decision that you have made. Think about it and the repercussions of said decision.

Example: When I decided to stay with Bevels when they moved and expanded. I wouldn't of had such a crazy, demanding schedule forcing me to miss my Saturday for my circuit assembly. Which then allowed me to go to another one where I ran into Whitney in the bathroom after a few years going by since we last saw each other. From there Whitney became one of the closest people in my life. Then, she decided to move to New York. Where then she eventually moved in with Tassie, and the two of them planned a trip away for three months, allowing Debi and I to sublet from them. Moving me officially to New York.

Wowza!

Just think, if I didn't go to another circuit assembly, would I of still ran into Whitney? Would I of still moved to New York? What are the odds that I would have moved into the same building as Kia? Or even met Debi? Would I of ever ran into Ian and Christina? Would I still have spent basically the entire summer and Ai and Maurice's? How would I have encountered the Vivianos? If we never knew each other in Michigan, what is the probability in New York? If I never met Tassie, where would I be living right now?

If I would have changed my direction of one Saturday, what would my life be like right now?

Hakuna Matata!

It means no worries!!!! A problem free philosophy:)

Ah.....no worries. Problem free. Can you picture it? It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? But life, oh sweet and wonderful and oh so complex, LIFE. Life does not live by this beloved Disney philosophy. At least not yet! Life, (my life, because EHEM, this is MY blog. My blog, my life. Ego-centric? Maybe just a pinch!) life has more problems then a math book. What is it about the new year that makes you reflect and have the sudden urge to change things? Well, whatever the reason, it has captured me under it's spell. You want to hear my verdict for 2011? Come on, don't be shy. It is completely validated that you are on the absolute EDGE of your seat wanting to know the complete misplaced opinions and facts from a little Midwest girl who transplanted herself to the Big City and has had showers and showers of self-realizations, disappointments, and absurd-life-happenings that MAY or may not be the premise to an AMAZING Wes Anderson indie flick. See what I just did there? I talked so much nonsense and used such fantastic cunning trickery that you suddenly forgot the question. And, I have you hooked! Like puddy in my hand you are! So I will proceed with my far fetched ramblings, thank you kindly:0)

......oh man! Now I forgot what I was talking about! Drat the luck! Hold on, let me collect my thoughts again.

OH! Verdict for 2011! How could one forget? Are you ready for it? 2011 sucked. Period. And, unless my survey has taught me wrong, you agree with me. Woo-hoo, high fives all around! Pat yourselves on the back for one crappy year, frustratingly lived! I don't want this to be a post solely dripping with pessimism, because that is no fun. Were there good things that happened? Of course! I finally found a place to live indefinitely, that I also happen to like very much. I got to go to pioneer school which was incredible. I've met and attached myself to some pretty amazing people. My brother is just killing it at life, which makes me ecstatic! I did a cleanse! I finally got through Wuthering Heights, not a small feat! I mastered how to make a pretty respectable poached egg. I've become less dependent on makeup, sometimes I go days being fresh faced for the world to see. I've scored some fantastic finds at thrift/second hand shops. See, good things. However, looking at the 365 days as a whole, not so many smiles times. 2011 had an air of funky disdain to it that lingered on you. Almost like you couldn't escape it.

I am here, standing before you, or more liked sitting before a screen writing to you, either way, I have a proposition for you, and me! (confused yet?) I shall present it to the audience in a formal, respectful way:

I, author of Kula-La-La and spokesperson for my fellow citizens who are ready to leave the year of 2011 behind, have a proposition for the general public. We refuse to let the bitter after taste of one badly, tragic year ruin or alter in any way our sights and ambitions for the future. We will remember lessons learned, and experiences gained, and relationships birthed, and we will proudly enter into the next chapter of life with these new features, but not carrying any of last year's baggage. We will accomplish. We will conquer. We will prevail. We will acquire many moments of happiness and try to the best of our ability to expand these to their absolute limits. We will allow ourselves to have a bad day if needed, but we must leave that day within those 24 hours and not let it attach itself to us and spread like gruesome gang green of life and over take us. We will detach ourselves from what is not necessary or helpful, and instead we will grab hold on to what is essential and things making for joy. We will approach this new blank canvas with hope in our hearts, determination on our brains, and maybe a cupcake and a butterfly or two in our stomachs. We will proceed with optimistic caution knowing full well that we got this! 2011, who needs you? All those in favor say "EY!"

If all else fails (but remember we are thinking positively now) I have decided to adopt the mantra of childhood memories Timon and Pumbaa. When life gets to you, just remember Hakuna Matata, oh what a wonderful phrase!

Birthday Suits and Hair Removal

So last night my roommate witnessed a full on nude lady walking the streets of Brooklyn. Butt naked! Well, completely naked except for the shoes she had on. Heels to be exact. She was seen walking across the intersection of Smith and Bergen, arm in arm with a fully clothed woman. And for whatever reason, I am so intrigued by this. I had so many questions that I desperately seem to need answers too. Who was this woman? Why was she naked? Where was she coming from? Where was she going? Who was the fully clothed lady? Was she crazy? What did her hair look like? Was she wearing jewelry? Did she have makeup on? To my despair, my roommate gave the "I don't know" answer to most of these questions. COME ON!!! You can't drop a bomb that you may or may not have had a run in with a nudist in New York City and not have any more details for me! Or at least elaborate and lie to me just for the heck of it! So for all my friends that I know want all the juicy facts, so we can later conspire as to what actually took place on a Wednesday evening, here they are:

There was a lady, in her 30's, dressed nicely, average prettiness, walking arm in arm with a lady in her 40's, who was naked in heels. The said nude person acted as if not a single thing was out of the ordinary. She was not talking loud, or drawing any more unnecessary attention to herself. She seemed unbelievably normal, besides the fact that she was wearing her birthday suit out and about. She was neither overly skinny, or fat by any means. My roommate caught the backside of her and said she looked pretty good considering her age. And for reasons I'm not even too sure of, this mysterious naked woman instantly became my idol! I mean, how can you not cheer for some naked 40ish year old woman walking the streets like she straight owns them! The confidence on her! Bravo, naked lady, BRAVO! I fear I maybe have one or two (maybe) more dimples on this backside of mine than what would merit a body deserving of showing off to to the Big Apple.

And this is just a side bar, but does anyone else get extremely angry or find it hysterical when you are getting your eyebrows done (either waxing or threading) and then they ask if you want your upper lip done too? What are you implying here? Are you saying that my upper lip is somewhat resembling that of a hipster wannabe? Wha?!?! Sometimes that comment ruins my day and other times it makes my day. But mostly I want to shout HECK NO you are not going to thread my peach fuzz!!!! I would rather have nails driven under my nail beds. A part of me thinks that my new naked idol friend would sit her cheeks in that chair and take it like a champ that she is......

An Affair to Remember

Confession: I have a love affair, every year. More precisely, every winter. For whatever reason, whenever this love of mine comes rolling back into my life, I easily get wrapped up in it. I can't help it, I. Am. Addicted. I can be going on with my life as normal, and then with just a sudden shift in the atmosphere and magically, once again, making an appearance in my life in all of it's white, glittery, goodness that is my love: SNOW!

Ever since I can remember, snow and I have had a thing going on. I feel as if I was born with some kind of snow radar. My body senses when snow is on it's way. I can count a handful of times when I have woken up in the middle of the night just knowing that it was here, and sure enough I would go to the window and see it in the midst of it's first glorious and beautiful fall of the year. Can anything be any more breathtaking than a midnight snow falling? I think not. It makes me so happy. I get angry when people complain about how much they hate snow. That is like saying how much you hate, puppies and their adorable little butts, or baby giggles, or if you are Kia-any baby animal in a diaper. Snow is wonderful, and amazing, not something deserving of hatred. And if you hate it so, why in the world do you live in an area that has it 3-5 months out of the year? You don't like it? Fine, you don't have to live here.

I am always so sad that snow does not immediately come on December 1st. But when it finally does, I feel as if it has arrived just for me:) It makes everything better. It blankets over all your worries, and concerns with it's wonderful fluffiness and assures you that all will be okay. It gives you a white, blank canvas to start over. I am in desperate need for my one true love to make it's way back into town and into my life, quick! I want to fall into it and be swept away the only way that snow can.

Exhaustion From the Depths (Or How a Non-Cryer Has Spent 2+ Weeks as a Weepy Mess)

Just as a side-note, the title of this post is not an over dramatization. I have quite literally, and pathetically (I might add), been on the edge of a sob storm at any moment of any day ever since I've gotten back from Michigan. And, I don't cry. Ever. To borrow a line from Julia Roberts, "I think there is a good possibility that I am profoundly and irreversibly screwed up!" I have fallen into the deep pit that is my family and all of it's madness and antics and I haven't been able to escape back out of it. On one hand, it is not completely their fault. I am a big girl now, I can say no and yes, and can make decisions about my life all on my own. It's not as if someone has forced me to get involved in all the saga like plots that have fallen upon my familia. And no one else is controlling the way that I am choosing to deal with it. My state of being an emotional voided rebooting zombie robot who pushes people away is something that I came up with all on my lonesome. (proud smile) So DON'T try to copy it, I've got it Trademarked! So you will have to pay me handsomely if I find out that you are shadily stealing my coping mechanisms! Okay, so yea, yea. It's not COMPLETELY their fault. But in some ways it IS their fault. (John, if you are reading this, please stop right here. Know that I am not talking about you, just the two other grown ups and that crazy loon of a sister)

I have come to the conclusion that there are times when life is just so not fair. Now I'm NOT talking about when you want to throw yourself a good ole fashion pity party and have a big tantrum about how life is just so unfair to a little beautiful princess like you! (gag) However, I am referring to those crystal clear moments when the sun hits everything just right and for but an instant you see how blindingly unfair and complex life can be. So basically, to fill you in, I went back home, not for me, but for my family. I went there so I could, to quote my mother, "You need to come here to encourage your Dad, and John, and me! We NEED you here!" And so I went. I went to live up to the role I so stupidly assigned myself as The Protector. I went because my family seemed so desperate for me to be there. I went because this is what I do, Amanda goes and holds it together so everyone else can fall apart. I went because I am an idiot. The only reasons that I went for my own selfishness was to see my brother, and to go through all my crap that was still there. (Sidebar-I am happy to report that I officially have nothing left in Michigan!)

Being there, I got to witness first hand what an anxious ball of nerves my father has become. I have never seen him look so old before. He would sit in his chair with his jacket on, hat on, and shoes on-being fully ready to move into instant action IF the moment ever called for it. He would jump at the slightest noise, and scope out every car that would drive by. He would not just relax. The saddest thing about it all, my dad made zero time for me. And zero effort in even acting like he wanted to spend time with me. So my mother pleading that my father "needed me", a lie perhaps? Yes, he did the quintessential him, and drove me back and forth to my ride, but that was it really. Even when he 1st picked me up, we were in the car not even 5 minutes when the phone rings and he picks it up and proceeds to have like a 7 minute non important conversation, neglecting to tell his friend "Hey, Amanda just got in. I'll call you back." Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I get it, I know there is a lot of big, monumental things taking place in Monroe, but you haven't seen me since March, and you complain all the time about how much you "miss" me, and then I am finally right here, for you, and nothing. Even just sitting with you in the living room for those 12 minutes waiting for Mom, you did not have one single thing to say to me except, "I don't know sometimes, Amanda. I just don't know." Well, right back at you Pops! I don't know about you either. And that hurts.

Then there is the complex and fantasy living creature: my mother. Sometimes she has this special way about her that in a matter of moments she can go from the most dramatic to most level headed person in the world. My whole life I have been plagued with the feeling that no matter what I do, my mother will never be satisfied with it. She is un-satisfiable in so many ways. (I have a sneaking suspicion that at times.....I am like that also. Dang it!) She also has the skills to somehow twist and turn everything around, and make it about her. It truly is an art the way she does it. And you just know, right when you are in the middle of it, and you watch it all unfold in front of you in the beautifully tragic way. Somehow you saying, "I can't handle this because of X, Y, and Z" ends up with her in an emotional rant about all that she does and has done and how she is on her last nerve, and you feeling like a complete monster. The truth is, not EVERYTHING is about you. Have you ever really heard what I am trying to tell you? Do you ever just listen to what your children are saying? There are some truths at the heart of it that I think you need to hear.

I love my family. There is no denying that. We all collectively share one heartbeat. But I am angry at some of the things they choose to be and do. I dropped everything in New York to go home and hold my family's hand. Then when I return back to my life in the wake of all that has happened, and I don't know how to register all the things that I am feeling, who is here to hold my hand? Where are you guys when I need you? You were up my butt for like 2 weeks before I came, pressuring me to come, and now that I'm back home, nothing. Not a phone call, not a text, email, SOS, smoke signal, snail mail, carrier pigeon....nothing. The kicker is that I can't even be 100% honest with you, because if I was to tell you, "no, I'm not doing alright", you would not be able to handle it. I realize now that that is most likely the reason why you don't truly ask. You are afraid of what the answer might be. And how do we operate in a world where I do not have it together? I don't know. I've been struggling with that ever since I left. Guess what? I am not okay. I don't even know where to begin fully in all the things that are so NOT okay with my life currently. And the one people that I would like to count on right now, my family, I can't. See, life is so not fair. Hence, why when I start to feel like a confused mess of a stranger to myself, I push people away. I retreat.

When you get broken, it is easier to start seeing the cracks in the foundations all around you. I push because I am scared. I scared at what I may say or do that could potentially hurt you. But mainly, I'm scared that you could hurt me. Such is life to be let down by the ones you love the most. In my mind though, if I keep you at a safe distance, you can't let me down. You can't hurt me. It's funny, because by doing this, to keep hurt away from all players I might add, I still end up hurting people. So on top of everything else, I must now go around handing out apologies to people and promising soon I will be back to normal just to make them feel better, even though I myself don't even believe the words I just said. I am worried that some of the people I considered to be true friends, in it for the long haul, the thick of it, rain or shine or hurricane, no matter what-they are there. They might actually be more like fair weather friends. Only in the relationship when it is most convenient for them. But when you are bottomed out and beaten up and the ugliest version of yourself, they are no where to be found. I don't need people too often, so when I do and they are not there, it stings. Stings like acid in a deep gouge in my chest cavity. I guess pressure is good if for nothing else but showing people's true characteristics. Maybe I just have the habit though of expecting people to be someone that they simply aren't.

Who's That Girl?

Let me give you a hint: It's not yours truly. Sigh. And, yes I know what you are thinking. YES! I am in fact in a funk, deal with it muchachos! I'm sorry, I don't mean to take it out on you, you did nothing wrong. My apologies. I suppose it would be rude of me to lay this all you before I give you any type of background explanation, so let me explain.......uh, er, let me sum up. Life has been less than amazing, more than frustrating, and all around exhausting. Family: Crazy/Complicated. Work: Monotonous and Unfullfilling. Personal: Terribly Lacking. Yep, all players are here and accounted for! Brace yourselves, I am about to get SUPER girly here. I am bummed out that I am not one of those girls that can make guys fumble and drool over themselves. Alright, yea I get it. I am not 6 feet tall, with legs for days and perfectly toned arms, and skin color that looks like I live on some island and have some type of "goddess-esque" air about me. But that's just it, I've NEVER been "that" girl. It has either a) never occurred to me before or, b) never bothered me before. Oh how I long for the days when I was blissfully unaware of what a plain-jane-dud-poison-to-men-girl I really am!

Debi made a comment to me, something on the lines of "do you think you are possibly one of those girls that always attracts guys?" And of course, my reaction was major denial, and laughter. (side note: I do not know how to receive compliments. You tell me my hair looks good, I'll tell you it's really dirty and disgusting. It's apparently a "problem") But my reaction was genuine. I don't think I am one of "those" girls who always seems to have a guy totally vibing on her. However, let's all be honest ladies, I think we all WANT to be that girl. And, in my case, even though I knew it wasn't true, I think I secretly thought maybe in SOME way, shape, or form, in an alternate universe, I was in fact one of those girls! Or at least, had the potential to become one. Crazy, I know. Geez Amanda, how do you fit thru doors with that ego of yours?!?? But then that got me thinking about all the supporting males that have been cast in the "love" section of my life and I have come to a very simple verdict. None of them have actually liked me. Now, don't go feeling all sorry for me or think that I'm just fishing for a compliment. Don't, and I'm not, honestly. Maybe this is just my insecurities talking, but there is that chance that I am unlikable. When I take a closer look, most of the so called relationships that I have had, have been played out mostly in me ole noggin. Maybe, just maybe things that go unsaid, aren't the most impactful simple truths that are the hardest to say, and need to be clung to like the last boat off the Titanic. Maybe they weren't said because they weren't there, they weren't felt. Simple as that.

It has been a very long while since I was told "I like you." And, I don't care how dependant you are, or how in order your life is, or anything else. Those three sweet words can do something truly beautiful to you. It's like a shift in the earth, now there is somebody who has studied you, looked you over, took much thought, and allowed its heart to attach itself to you and all your nonsense that makes up you. They are willing to look over all the mess and are willing to put themselves out on a line and confess that which can never really be taken back. They are sincerely intrigued by you. You feel like something, because someone else has picked you out. That feeling is matched by very few things in this world. But, oh wait, wait, wait there Ms. Kula!

When is the last time you've said those very words to someone? Yea, it's been awhile since that one too.

Hey all the fellas out there that truly want to help a girl out. I could use some advice here!