OK, 'fess up. When you were a young dreamer, you were sure you’d become an Oscar winner, or a rock star, or an MVP, or the champion high-speed ingester of hot dogs. So now’s the time to share - what was your dream, and when did you figure out that it wasn’t going to happen?
In 8th grade or so, 2 girlfriends and I were going to be rock stars. We had our group name: Uniquely Exclusive. Cool, right? We had publicity photos - Denise’s little sister took them of us. (One day, I’ll find them and post them in FB.) We wrote our own songs.
The thing we didn’t have was collective talent. I could play the guitar and I could sing. Jeanette could kinda sing, and I was trying to teach her to play guitar, but she was a leftie, so it wasn’t going well. Denise really couldn’t carry a tune, but she was cute, and we figured she could shake a tambourine. We never did perform. In fact, we barely ever rehearsed, apart from me trying to teach Jeanette some chords.
Here we are, 47 years later. I’m retired from gummint service and my daughter has my guitar. Jeanette is on disability retirement for, um, issues. Denise is still working as a health inspector, wanting to retire. Ironically, Denise’s sister became a professional photographer!
But it’s never too late, right? I could get my guitar back from my kid. I still remember some of the songs we wrote. I could be a star!!!
Good Mornin’ Y’all! Up and caffeinatin’. YAWN ‘Tis 67 Amurrkin out with a predicted high of 80 for the day. The weather PTB say a front is movin’ in Tuesday and Wednesday bringin’ “significant weather” to the area.
I wanted to be an actor in high school. Yeah, right. Bit parts in high school plays are the ticket to Broadway and Hollywood. MOOOOOOM you should get your guitar back. You can start a “rockin’ to the oldies” all girl band!
Ok, that’s all I got for now. I need more caffeine and need to feed rumbly tummy so I can take my medication. Then, who knows. Some yahd irk is in store. I still have more of that to do and probably should before the weather becomes “significant”. Oh and there’s therapy this afternoon.
I suppose technically, I was an actor. For 26 years, I acted like an engineer.
**FCD **sees his doc today. The stitches come out and with luck, this is the end of knee stuff for a while. Fingers crossed.
I’m going to run some errands. I need kitteh kibbles, and I’m going to get some brats to smoke when I do the meatloaves. I’ll probably get some kitteh litter, too - that’s one of those things you DON’T want to run short of. Kinda like TP.
And considering the weather - coolish again - I’m thinking some studio time, making ears and snouts and scales and stuff. So I’ve got a full day ahead.
I went out for coffee this morning, but they screwed up my order. Oh well, going to the less expensive coffee place saved me 50 cents. I’d make coffee at home, but I don’t want my family to know that I’m a caffeine addict. Yeah, I’m weird.
I don’t buy coffee every day, and I don’t usually buy expensive coffee, so it’s not like I’m losing a lot of money.
Much to be worked on today. The usual music arranging, plus trying to order some stuff online, plus trying to get a ticket to a play in a couple of days.
Not when I was a little kid, but in university, I wanted to be a music composer, and was frustrated when it wasn’t working out. Now I do earn some money as a composer, so it did work out. Though I’m not really making a living at it at this point.
In other news, this morning I got a spam email from something called “Married But Lonely,” asking if I want to sleep with married women. Huh, spam is weird. Actually, I think the funniest spam email headline I ever got was “Keep it up all night long marimba.” It made me picture a guy playing a marimba all night long.
I ventured outside for a little over an hour. It’s hyooooooomid and cloudy out. Da bear got all hot and sweaty which is not good because we all know how delicate I am. Anywho, I got some yahd stuff accomplished and now I’m all showered and cleanded up.
It’s no secret that growing up I was absolutely convinced I was destined to be a Broadway Diva. In some alternate Universe, I have a few Tonys, a couple of Emmys, and just finished filming an Oscar contender.
Other than that, blurf.
Yesterday was not so good, it was a poofing posts day and then I had to take the dog to the emergency vet. I’m $300 poorer and he, to the shock of the emergency vet, is in perfect condition. She couldn’t find anything wrong with him other than his white blood cell count is up, so she gave him some antibiotics and pain pills.
After keeping us up for a day and a half, the little brat got home and has done nothing but sleep.
Back from erranding. I got my niece’s shower gift(s) - she’s getting a big bag o’ gadgetry. I got her a bunch of kitchen gadgets that you don’t realize you need till you need them. I’m going to wrap each one in tissue, then put them all in a gift bag. So that’s one thing done.
I was going to get a hunk of brisket to smoke, but it was $8/lb. Um, I don’t want it that much. So just the meatloaves and a dozen brats. Tomorrow. Not today.
I want a snooze. Idiot cat woke us around 4:30 wanting to come in for a drink. My fault - I failed to refill their water bowl. Then Higgs started fussing and about 5:30 I just gave up. I need more than 6 hours of sleep. Stoopit animals!
Hopefully just rain and not the wind we got. Weird spring, my roof was probably totaled by hail last week. Maybe I’ll move to San Francisco, buy a guitar and try to restart The Summer of Love.
That sucks loo. My roof got trashed by hail three years ago and had to be replaced. Thank Og the only cash I had to pay out of pocket was the insurance deductible.
At one point, I wanted to be a ballerina. My folks couldn’t afford dance classes, but I’d check out books about ballet from the library and I’d practice the feet and hand positions, then put on some classical music and dance around the basement. My first (and last) ballet class was a PE class in college. When you’re 19, you’re a little old for basic ballet - I was beyond my flexibility prime. It was a sad, sad day when I finally accepted I’d never be a dancer…
Now, from the perspective of age, I can see that being a performer isn’t just a matter of doing an act for adoring crowds. There’s actual WORK involved!! Rehearsals, auditions, classes, dealing with costumers, directors, producers, other divas… And publicity appearances - answering the same stupid questions over and over. I think about Paul McCartney - how many times has he sung Yesterday over the years? Does he ever want to say “Forget it - I’m not singing it any more!!!”
Oh, and there’s the whole thing of how incredibly shy I was. A life of fame was definitely not for me.
Happy Moanday, mumpers! I am back from my travels, had a fantastic time but I have spent the last few days catching up with myself. I think my head finally knows where the rest of me is, and I’m no longer waking up at stupid o’clock in the morning.
In school I had a bright future in sports and was at a point where I could consider going a long way with it. I kinda did, but after breaking the same delicate joint twice, I was advised to give up my particular sport because another injury to the same area would be extremely serious.
In other news, it’s the start of exams today. Fortunately it is the internal oral/aural language exams so not quite the full-blown panic of written exams that starts next week…it’s like the calm before the storm except it’s more like the storm before the even bigger storm.
I wanted to become an author when I was growing up. I still do, except I’m not fussed about getting published and have no intention of trying to make a living doing it. Writing for myself suits me fine.
