Soul Revival

I thought I would try something different. Break out of my little box. I thought I could not be controlling and just let fate take over.

Apparently, I still need some work.

I put my ipod on shuffle.

The first few songs were great. They were songs I hadn’t heard in a while. There were some songs I hear all the time that I really enjoy. This is going to be fun!

Then, a song my ex put on busted through my speakers. Flip.

Chapter 14 of a book. Flip.

A slow song. Flip.

A good song! Ahhhhh…

A song I really wasn’t interested in today. Shit.

Here is what I learned. I have a lot of shit on my ipod. A lot. Of shit. It’s time to do some housecleaning. Ear-cleaning? After all, it is dangerously close to its 30 gigabyte limit. I could make room for new stuff, or rather (since new is not so much my thing), some different stuff.

I am a little crazy about music, which may explain why my ipod is so full of, well, you know what. When I hear a song that I like, I must find out who sings it. Then I must listen to the entire album that song is on. That is how I decide if I truly like the song. A song is a chapter to me. The album is the book.

And, like many books I have read, I read other books by the same author. Likewise, I find as many albums by the same musician and listen to them. In order, just like I read chapters from a book. I feel there is a progression in music. One album relates and grows from the one previous. It is amazing to feel and hear and be inspired by the growth of the artist, to see how far they have come since their last release, the transitions, the risks taken.

Having said all this, there are two randomized playlists on my ipod. One, I am totally getting rid of. It is a mix of hip-hop, rap, and other loud beatbox music that I used to work out to, but no longer do. (Joan Jett has taken that job.) It is just obnoxious at this point in my life. While it was fun to hear some of it in my travels, I am never going to listen to it enough to justify the space it is taking up.

The other playlist is random rock songs. They are like that one line in the Shakespeare play that you love, that totally works in your life, but the idea of reading the whole play to get to that line makes you want to jump off the tallest building you can find. I’m keeping that playlist.

I did, however, find some gems I hadn’t heard in quite a while. How about these apples?

“Coat of Many Colors” by Dolly Parton (This still brings tears to my eyes.)

“Randy Scouse Git” by The Monkees (Why don’t you be like me?)

“Oxford Comma” by Vampire Weekend (For the record, I give a fuck about an oxford comma!)

“The Lemon Song” by Led Zeppelin (Squeeze my lemon…)

“Wish I Was a Kellogg’s Cornflake” by Simon and Garfunkel (I'm a citizen for boysenberry jam fan!)

“She Believes in Me” by Kenny Rogers (Don’t laugh. I’m from Nebraska for christ’s sake!)

"Meet Me in the Dark" by Melissa Etheridge (Anything by Melissa is good for me. And makes me want to give my BFF a big hug.)

And, possibly the biggest treat of the day was hearing “All I Wanna Do” by Sheryl Crow. There are too many good memories attached to that song to even start.)

So, even through the sigh, flip, sigh, flip, I had some goodness. My mind was flooded with happiness and my soul was revived.

I went on a hike today with the woman whom I have been referring to in this blog as “my long-lost dear friend”. I am no longer referring to her as that. It was like no time had passed at all. We talked all day and enjoyed the beauty around us. It was amazing, my heart is filled with gratitude that life is a circle and love conquers time and space. I am privileged enough to experience it all. Long-lost no more! She is now just my dear friend, Olivia. There is less than an hour between us now, not an entire country! And I couldn’t be happier to have her back!

I’d like to thank all the little people…oh yeah, I am the littlest person in the room!

I’m pretty new here. I am still learning my way around, constantly adding and deleting to my layout, and still cannot fix the formatting in my comments.

In spite of my newness (or perhaps because of it), I have been given an award! My long-lost dear friend, Olivia has bestowed a blog award upon me. Honored. I am truly honored.

However, in order to be deserving of said reward, I must do two things.

First, I must pass it along to seven fellow bloggers. That is the easy part.

I feel nervous about the second task. I must reveal seven truths about myself. All at once. For all the world (okay, for the very few of you who read my ramblings) to see. Since I am trying my best to take the fear road of Face Everything And Recover, instead of F&%# Everything And Run, I’m going to put seven truths out there. Maybe you’ll respect me tomorrow anyway. Maybe not. Either way, it was a fun night, eh?

1. Is Ivy Bliss my real name? This is the easy one. Yes. Ivy Bliss, in all its bad-ass-ness is, in fact, my real name. I am not famous, nor do I possess the self-confidence it would take to change my name to something that cool. First name, Ivy. Middle name, Bliss. Last name, irrelevant, unless you are my doctor, work at the DMV, or the bank. My last name is irrelevant because you will not be able to pronounce it or spell it. And it just isn’t as cool.

Buddy Hackett. He is how I got my first name. His daughter’s name was Ivy and my parents met them when they worked at a ski resort in Colorado. Apparently, they had the Lorraine McFly moment, “Ivy, what a nice name.” (okay, she said Marty, but we are talking about me here)

A waitress. That’s where my middle name came from. I am adopted. My parents were on the way to the agency to pick me up and they stopped to eat. Because, the kid can wait, we're hungry! Whatever, mom. Thanks for making me lay in that crib in the orphanage while you noshed on some grub. Back to the story, they had already settled on Ivy, but had yet to come up with a middle name, and their waitress’s name at said restaurant was…yep, you guessed it…Bliss.

So there you go. My name. 

2. I am deeply attached to notebooks and pens. They are my tools for writing. I find it difficult to be creative if I am not hunched over a one subject, wide rule, spiral bound notebook with my medium blue papermate flexigrip pen (the one with the cap, not the clicker) in my hand.  (And usually a cigarette in the other.)

I handwrite all my blogs, then type them in. I hand-wrote every paper I wrote for school, even the ten-pagers. I type later.

Yes, this takes a lot of time. But, it is how I work. I love scratching out mistakes. I love the hurried feeling I get in my wrist when I am in the middle of a great flow. But most of all, I love how my handwriting changes as the words go on.

In spite of all this, I love my computer and wish more people and companies in the world would be paperless. What a friggin’ oxymoron I am!

3. I love to take pictures.  I struggle to find the time to find beauty in my life.  I tend to be hyper-obsessively-focused on my life.  And that makes this difficult.  When I am behind a camera, I feel free.  I have made a committment to myself to take pictures of at least one beautiful thing a month this year.  And by one beautiful thing, I mean a roadtrip (even if just for a day) to see a place I have not seen before, or a place I have been, but not appreciated.

4. I love dogs. I feel more comfortable around dogs than I do most people. I am fortunate to be a house sitter for many people and their dogs. I appreciate the loyalty and unconditional love dogs give and strive to be more like that.  (Yep, that's my dog and me!)

5. I am shy and reserved. All my friends are loud and out-spoken. I am fiercely attracted to outgoing people. I suck at small talk. My theory is that they compensate for me, and others, in turn, think I am great at conversation. As long as I am not responsible for the small talk, I can play along. I feel amped up and more alive when I am with these types of people. It is easier to be social.

I prefer deep conversations, and they come as a result of the small talk sometimes, and that is good.

6. I believe in music and that it heals. In many ways, I believe it has saved me over and over again. The power of music feeds my soul and reinforces my life every day. It brings me to a place I am still hesitant to put into words, but I can feel the sound on my insides, and I internalize the words. 

7. I used to love to write. This blog is my attempt to get that feeling again. So far, it’s working.

Well, I guess that wasn’t so bad. Thanks again, Olivia. You are everything I want to be when I grow up! (If that should ever really happen!) To all the bloggers I bestow this award upon, don’t forget your list and thank you for encouraging me to write on!

Guess I should start typing!

And now for the awards!

http://thatrebelwithablog.blogspot.com/ - My inspiration for starting and continuing this blog. I am glad you are back. We will make time for each other.

http://gentlysaid.blogspot.com/ - Thank you for all your good words. I think we share humor in many ways.

http://murrbrewster.blogspot.com/ - You are funny and wonderful. Thank you for your support and comments.

http://psychedelicsister.blogspot.com/ - Your pictures inspire me to take more of my own and see things others don’t.

http://lizzysends.blogspot.com/ - I have just found you, but I like your style.

http://www.ratherbeblogging.com/ - I love the Fonz, too! ;)

http://jkoyanagi.com/ - You are an amazing talent, and I enjoy every sentence!

"You're a shed!" "No, you're a shed!" "I'm telling!"

I swear.

A lot.

I have a really bad mouth. I use swear words in practically every sentence I speak. I think in swear words. I believe that I like them. I like the emphasis they bring to a statement. I like that the word itself shows my listener that I am serious. F-ing serious. I also like the many ways I can use the swear word. It can substitute for so many other words, complete phrases and even sentences. Swear words are extreme shorthand for my vocabulary.

It isn't that I don't know how to speak properly. It isn't even that I do not have a vocabulary big enough to find the word I'm trying to say. It isn't that I don't know how to audibly emphasize a word. It's just that swear words sound so much better. Bigger, better, louder...

I have always liked swearing. When I was little, my best friend and I would call each other “shed”, meaning shit-head. (Oh, how creative we were!) I would test the waters frequently around my parents, just to see what I could get away with. They said these words, too. So, why shouldn't I? Apparently, because I was too young. While my mouth was never washed out with soap, it was certainly corrected and the direct link between myself and punishment many, many times. I soon learned that away from my parents was the best place to use my language. As often as I could, I spoke the big-shot-ese, struttin' around thinking how cool I was.

But then, it wasn't because I was cool. Somehow, at some point, swearing just became part of my lingo. It isn't even swearing anymore. It is just speaking. There isn't much emphasis difference between F-U-C-K and F-O-O-D (my two favorite four-letter words, by the way!) anymore.

Why now? Why must I bring this up now?

Well, since I am writing again (HALLELUIAH!), I am noticing that, as always, I write exactly as I speak, and I speak exactly as I think. So, yes there has been some severe editing involved in prior posts (and a few in this one). I am not interested in my potty-mouth being out there for the masses. I want to write like a real writer, like someone who has actually taken classes in this, like I have. And yes, I want you to have a good opinion of me. Oh, and I do not want to have to put a parental advisory on my blog.

So, I have started small. In text messages, I have started writing “What the crap!” or “What the F!”. When commenting on my friends' facebook posts and in emails, I put the letter F instead of the full four-letter word, and no, I'm not talking about F-O-O-D this time. “Crap” has even made its way out of my mouth a few times.

Sometimes slowly. I will regard all these things as progress. Maybe one day F will not be my favorite letter, and it will only be the first letter in ONE of my favorite words. Until then, if I happen to write that I think someone is a SHED, you now know the secret language.

Oh, and if I do swear in here, it's because I want to.

Four-Eyed-Metal-Mouth

When I was in middle school, everyone had glasses and braces. Everyone, that is, except me. I desperately wanted them – both – so desperately, I continually asked to go to the eye doctor and the dentist.

My mom wouldn’t take me to the dentist. I told her my teeth hurt so bad and I thought they were moving. I wanted braces. I wanted the colored rubber bands! Unfortunately, she could see my teeth, see that they weren’t moving, that they were still perfectly straight. Curses!

I imagined that with braces, I would suddenly become a better dresser, more fashionable. I imagined standing in front of my closet, picking out the day’s outfit and the rubber bands to match. This was the late 80s, when fluorescent colors were like, totally in, and fluorescent yellows and greens and blues dominated my wardrobe. How radical would it be to totally have that color in my mouth! The one little detail that I can see now, as I have grown into a (comfortably grayscale) fashion sense, is that less is more. In fact, no fluorescent is more! I also imagined food tasting better. I don’t know why I ever thought metal and rubber in my mouth would make pizza better, but I never claimed to have a normal thought process, now did I?

But she did take me to the eye doctor. I would tell her I couldn’t see the blackboard in school, that I was getting a headache every time I had to try to look at it. Alas, 20/20 vision. Why, god! Why me? Why can’t I just be like everyone else! Foiled again!

I thought all the girls at school that had glasses looked nifty. I thought how amazing it must be to be able to wake up in the morning, get out of the shower, and put something on my face, and see the whole world differently. In my weird little over-active mind, I imagined that with glasses, I could see into people’s souls, see fact from fiction, see all the things my naked brown eyes could not. Glasses, in my head, were the answer to all of life’s problems, and the solution to my limited world.

Let’s fast-forward to eleventh grade. I had a toothache. For real. I called my mom from school crying because it hurt so bad. She didn’t believe me at first (she has an amazing memory). But I think my crying convinced her that maybe I wasn’t making this up. She took me to the dentist and there was something wrong with my perfectly straight teeth. It was time for my wisdom teeth to come out. But, there was a problem. One of them, the one on the bottom left side, was blocked by a bone and wasn’t coming up and out. That was the source of my pain. Tooth vs Bone. And for the moment, the bone was winning.

The solution? Braces! Suddenly, I wasn’t excited about braces anymore. They had to break the bone and put three brackets of braces on my teeth to pull the tooth up at an accelerated rate. Excuse me? Break the bone? I had never had a broken bone in my life! And, I’m a klutz and a tomboy! You want my first broken bone to be forced and on purpose? No friggin’ way!

But, yes way. I went to the orthodontist and he broke my jaw bone. Then he put braces on. With rubber bands. They hurt. Every day, my mouth hurt. I wanted to rip the off. They hurt at night and I couldn’t sleep. They hurt in the day and they hurt when I tried to eat  (which nearly killed me!). I had to basically stop chewing on the left side of my mouth. Screw this braces shit. About a year later, they came off. The bone healed and about a year later, I had my wisdom teeth pulled out. Finally, my mouth was back to normal (perfect) again.

Then, a few years later, in college, I noticed I was really having trouble seeing the board. I went to the eye doctor and guess what! I needed glasses. I was super excited! Finally, I would be able to see what everyone else could see! But it didn’t happen that way. I hated the glasses. I hated them because I could not remember to put them on. I hated them because I had to put them on. I hated them because they didn’t do what I thought glasses would do for me. I couldn’t see into people’s souls. Glasses did not give me the answer to all of life’s questions.

About three years ago, I got another check up on my eyes. They were bothering me, even though I was trying to wear my glasses every day. Bifocals. WHAT! I felt like I was too young for bifocals. I mean, really, aren’t bifocals for grandmothers? I’m not even a mother!

So I wore them. All the time. Even with bifocals, I couldn’t see into the souls of others. But I still wore them every day.

Then I stopped. I didn’t really make a decision or anything, I just stopped wearing them. About two weeks ago, I got a headache, and it would not go away. I took ibuprofen. I drank more coffee. I could not figure out why I had such a horrible headache all the time.

A couple mornings ago on my way to work, I noticed my glasses. They were lying next to my iPod in the car. I picked them up and put them on. Not suddenly, but within an hour or so, my headache was gone. It was pretty amazing. I’ve been wearing them every day since. This is amazing! I can see! And I don’t have a headache! Wow.

What made me think of all this? I went to see Alice in Wonderland and Avatar on Friday. I took my glasses off because I had to wear the 3D glasses, and why on earth would I need two pair? I commented to Kelly, “Are the commercials in 3D? They are a little fuzzy!” She just laughed, said no, and told me to put on my glasses. Once I did that, the commercials were no longer fuzzy! So we made fun of me for a while that I was going to have to wear both pairs of glasses during the movies – as they were both in 3D. And it turns out, I did. I was pretty self-conscious for a while, until I remembered that it is dark and no one can see that I actually have six eyes, that I’m wearing two pairs of glasses! Then I began to wonder how many other people have had to do this. Plenty, I’m sure. I am not the only person who has glasses. Kelly is such a good friend, she even posed for a couple pictures of my retardation. What a trooper.

We had so much fun, the movies were great. And I could see them with no headache!

Yippee!

It’s been a long time since I have wanted something just because everyone else had it. I do wish for things, but they are for me, because I think I may like them. Not because it would make me something I’m not, give me a super power, or any reason as adolescent. As I have reflected on this, realizing that I have indeed gotten what I once wished for, it makes me wonder, do I have a super power? And if I do, may I give it back, please?

65 years later, and the hair is the same!

I am obsessed with a lot of things that people my age are generally not obsessed with. You are probably starting to get that. I love game shows, retro television, classic rock music. I love Betty White.


When I say I love her, I don't mean that I started loving her when she was thrown to the ground in a commercial for this year's Super Bowl. Don't get me wrong, I laughed my tookus off when I saw that commercial, and it is definitely my bet for the best commercial of this Super Bowl. And best commercial of any Super Bowl. Ever.

I loved her when I was little watching reruns of The Mary Tyler Moore Show (again, thank you, Ted Turner, for reruns weekday afternoons!). I remember laughing, even though I didn't know then that Sue Ellen was a nympho supremo. In my child-mind, I thought she was much more entertaining than Mary, and couldn't understand why it wasn't the Sue Ellen Nivens Show.

Then came Mama's Family, my first run-in with Betty-Rue. Although I knew Rue McClanahan from Maude (Oh, Bea-Rue, how I love that combo! But more on that later!), I was intrigued by the constant banter and love between the characters of Ellen and Fran. They seemed like they could be sisters. I might add that I was completely horrified when I found out one day that Vicki Lawrence was the same age as my mother but looked like my grandmother! Could this be the same Vicki Lawrence from The Carol Burnett Show? Oh my god, yes it was!

Oh, Rose Nylund. Golden Girls (and a year, two?, of Golden Palace) brought you into my home once again. I could write for pages and pages about Rose Nylund. I loved that show. The combination of Bea-Betty-Rue-Estelle made me laugh every week. Once again, my young mind was all confused when I learned that the youngest cast member of all was Estelle! The deception of Hollywood...

I love The Golden Girls to this day. I watch reruns now, as an adult, and get the jokes I didn't get when it was originally on the air, in my lifetime, ages 9-16. I think I stopped watching it around age 13 or 14, and am now happy to say I have caught up on all the good stuff I gave up on.

Each of these women have impacted my life in some way or another. I would like to say that I am a little more fearless because of Blanche. Her honesty about who she was and her love of men and dating made me less shy around people. I believe Dorothy's brains made me want to be smart. And she taught English, which has always been my favorite subject. She was not afraid to speak her mind and it made me want to be strong like that, too. Sophia was funny and sarcastic, much like myself (and short - me too!), as well as kind. Those two traits are rarely found in a single character.

Then there is Rose. Simple, funny, innocent, small-town Rose. I am from a small town, and Rose's memories of St. Olaf made me reminiscent of my own small town. Her humor was impeccable. But most of all, she had the kindest heart of anyone on television. Rose wanted peace in a world where there was so little of it. Her simpleton nature made it seem like anything was possible. And to her, it was.

Then there is the real Betty White. The one from game shows. I was obsessed with game shows as a kid. (I still am - I love to watch the game show network!) As a result, I have a lot of trivial knowledge in this head of mine. My favorites were Match Game (still my favorite! Oh, how I love Richard Dawson!), Password, and Press Your Luck. Ms. Betty White was a frequent guest on two of these. Match Game is my favorite game show of all time. I get a little giddy when it is on, even to this day.

So, why all this talk of Betty White? Well, today it was announced that the Facebook campaigning to get her to host Saturday Night Live worked. Who knew? Although I think it will be amazing to watch Betty White on SNL, I did not join that group because I thought it was like every other Facebook group, frivolous. So when I opened up my computer today and read that it actually worked, that Lorne Michaels himself said he could not possibly ignore the response! In addition to responding as millions want, he is putting Betty White on the show on Mother's Day, and bringing back several former female cast members, including another woman I love and admire, Tina Fey!

I love dogs. Betty loves dogs. Need I say more?

It is also interesting to note that Betty White has had basically the same hair style since, I think, birth.
Oh Betty, I can't wait to see you on Saturday Night Live! And congrats on your Lifetime Achievement Award. You deserve it!  You've got spunk, girl!  I love that!

I guess dreams really do come true.