Tiara Me Sue

I've been posting more about working in coffee shops during the downtime I have in my day job as a chauffeur, and when I realized that I felt the immediate need to justify what could be considered an unnecessary splurge. I work the insane hours I do because I have to , and spending $3.00 on coffee a few times a week seems a little extravagant on my budget (especially if I splurged on a snack or even a meal once in a while) - that's what I've told myself for years. Because of that way of thinking, I'd spent many hours in my vehicle, trying to write in a terribly cramped position (how long can you sit in a car?), sometimes listeniing to my stomach growl because I was out so long that I'd already eaten the food I brought. How much can you really pack to take with you when you have no idea how long you'll be out? It's not like I can count on having all the space in the front seat or trunk, because I don't know that far in advance how many passengers I will ...

The sky is blue ... and so is my mood. That's a bit of a dichotomy, isn't it? Blue is blue, and it's not. A blue sky is happy; a blue mood is not - but it is proof that everything is the same and different at the same time.  I can be one of those disgustingly positive people - not can be, am . I believe we can work it out, everything will be all right, and it's a wonderful world. This annoys the piss out of my daughter. When she is upset and wants to talk about it, my responses run along the lines of, "Don't worry; things will get better!" and "Let it go as best as you can, for your own sake." There'll be a lot of positive rah-rah and then, "I know you'll be fine." When I'm done she looks up at me through her tears and says (with extreme aggravation), "Can't you just show a little sympathy once in a while?" She is at the basic comfort stop, and I'm moving ahead of her with go-go-go. I s...

A Letter to The Academy I’m aware that as of this moment now, the 2019 Oscars Ceremony has no official host. I would like to offer my services for that position. Without a host, the entire presentation is lessened; each ‘segment’ before and between the announcements of winners will become disjointed, and the consistency and continuity of the whole will seem fragmented. We talk about short attention spans and a newer need for ‘in your face’ action to keep people’s attention, and fragmenting an Event such as The Oscars – in its own way – will perpetuate that idea by turning the Grandest Hollywood Evening into something comparable to a YouTube playlist.  As elements begin to be removed, the groundwork is laid for total implosion. Everyone loses; the award recipients and nominees who’ve invested their blood, sweat and tears to be a part of this and the behind-the-scenes organizations and people who have worked to put together a whole evening’s events.  Then there’...

As usual, the decision to sit down and write this New Year’s blog came 11 minutes ago at 3:00 pm, on New Year’s Eve Day, three hours before I’m supposed to be at my first New Year’s Eve party in years – which I will have to leave early to be at work four hours into the New Year. Nothing new there, right? But I say that with a smile. Also as usual, thoughts and words played in my head before this decision was made. I suppose it’s because the night that I really consider to be the night of the New Year would be my birthday, my personal New Year – the only one that really matters if I truly believe that everything starts with me – and that wars with the idea of general New Year’s celebrations at the end of December. Somewhat. Not the celebration part – I love to celebrate. The inner ‘battle’, if you will, has to do with the level of expectation that is brought upon people at New Year’s Eve: the midnight kiss, the resolutions, etc. If I fight anything, it is the pervasive and ...

It’s that time of year, the holiday season that begins with the concept of gratitude and ends with a time of giving. (Then, of course, comes the crash after the holidays when real life sets in and winter gets ugly and we’re all miserable again.) (But for now…) Giving is a wonderful thing, and not just in terms of holiday gifts; we have better things to give to others: support, time, attention, appreciation, and love. These are things we give out daily – but only to some degree. How we give out these ‘gifts’ usually depends on how much or little we value the recipient or how much or little we expect in return. That is not something most of us want to think about, or admit publicly; but it is true. We act like we ‘give’ our time to our jobs, but that is a trade and not a gift; we trade time for money. We hold our time as valuable, and mete it out according to what will bring our best benefit – God forbid we waste it on anything or anyone that might not deserve it. We...

It's the thought that counts. That's one of the many things we say that we don't really mean, or don’t understand fully. Most of the time when we say it we are soft-pedaling a disappointment, as in "Oh, well; I tried." The thing is, it is the thought that counts; the problem is we don't really think. It's not just a matter of trying to cheer someone up in some way with a trinket or phrase intended to make them feel better, or giving a gift on a holiday - it's about actually thinking about someone.  It’s not about pondering over someone (I don’t recommend stalking); I’m talking about that random thought you have about someone, whether it's from a memory that was triggered by an event, item, song, smell, sight, or circumstance, or one of those 'nothing' moments when that person just springs to the front of your mind. Acting on that thought, as close to the moment it happens is what makes the thought count. You can have a nice t...

Yesterday I was given a gift - technically, it was a 'hopeful' gift for my daughter; I had mentioned to a friend that I was getting her a record player for Christmas, and he purchased a blind assortment of 70s and 80s rock/pop/funk 45s, hoping I could get at least a couple out of the selection that would be good for her. That was a thoughtful idea, in and of itself. I took the box to work last night, knowing I’d have time to go through them - and it turned into a gift for me. Any time somebody does something for your child, it is something done for you - but what I got out of it had nothing to do with her. I opened the box and spent the next two hours in my own little happy bubble. The first thing I noticed was each record came with a jukebox label stored in the sleeve with it (the way I used to keep them); that’s where the fun started, and it went from there. I grew up with two jukeboxes at home; we had one in the house and one in the large garage out back. My fat...