Cause I’m a Ninja

22 08 2008

or a street punk. But really, I’m that super dangerous vandal/thief/puppy killer. Right? Right? I totallllllly look it.

Adventures in the City: Episode #3

Time for the big reveal:
I’ve been teaching myself to skateboard. Seriously. At 22.

Sometime after moving to the city, I realized that all that crap about needing to start young was, well, crap. Sure I’ll never be the next Ryan Sheckler. (*swoon* hey, he’s only 4 yrs younger. I think) But who cares?

My younger brother gave me his old board, and I love it. It already has that worn look that makes me look kickass when I carry it around. Just as long as no one sees me actually attempt to roll down the street… I’m psyched. I’ve been picking up on it really quickly. I feel like a little kid out there just vrrrrooooming back and forth down the street. yes. I do ‘vrrrooom’

But apparently, I’m a menace. I understand that life in the city requires a certain amount of caution. We have murders, drive-bys & crazies. The need for caution seems to give license to stereotyping – all for the sake of safety. But I am the least intimidating looking person ever. Even with a skateboard, I’m more Darla than Spanky*

The Week in Review:

Day 1
The streets near my apartment are crap and busybusybusy. So I biked** 2miles to a smoother & emptier block. I chain up my old school schwinn to a No Parking sign and roll down the block. I’m not nervous. I’ve been watching videos all weekend of 7 yr olds explaining How-To. If they can do it, I can.

why can’t I have an awesome accent?

Apparently skateboarding in this particular street is unheard of. The houseies are all cramped up inside peeking out their windows wondering what kind of crazy is outside. Believe me. I’VE SEEN THEM. They peek out regularly to make sure I’m not breaking in across the street. A woman stood watching me from behind her screendoor for several long minutes (as I tripped all over myself trying to stay on my feet) before closing the front door and clicking the 20million deadlocks across. So… streetpunk/vandal seems to be the impression I’m giving. Who me?!?! How can they be suspicious? I suck! This is (quite obviously) my first time ever on a skateboard.

Ahhh. I get it. They totally see through this ‘skateboarder’ facade. I can’t fool them. I’m totally there to just tag their walls with shit like “Kanye Rocks!” or “Marilyn Manson is my God” or whatever. Because that’s what we skatepunks do. Right? We’re bad news. I’m bringing down the neighborhood.

Funny thing, I was a goody-goody & teacher’s pet through all my years of school. So this is crazyweird. The little girl scout in me wants to knock on all their doors and hand out my sweetass resume just so they respect & adore me. “See!!! I’m a good girl! I love people. I have a job! I’m responsible and friendly. Would you like to order some thin mints?” *innocent eyes & big grin*

Day 2
I didn’t get out ’til after 8pm due to my guitar lesson after work. (Learning Seaside by the Kooks!) I picked up the nearest smoothest block and rocked it! Even popped an Ollie!!!

Day 3
Roomie randomly showed up back at the apt, borrowed my clothes and did an interview in the city for a PR firm. huh. ummm… We ended up going to dinner & chillin. No boarding (or is it skating? or rolling?) tonight. Little brother told me I might want to get the shocks looked at. Shocks? What are shocks??? Must google that…

Day 4
I lied. After reviewing more footage, it has been determined that I didn’t do an Ollie on Tuesday. That was… uh… not really sure. But I did one today! Two in fact – weak – but two!!!

I has skillz
I has skillz

However, I did fall twice on my ass. Full out sprawl on the street. Both times it was a matter of one foot staying on the board and the other getting left behind… far far behind. In good news, I learned I can do the splits. In bad news, OMFG!!!!! That is gonna hurt tomorrow!

Did I mention I ripped a 3in hole in my sock? From one of the falls. woah. all through the heel. With my shoes still on…

Day 5
I hurt everywhere. Can’t wait to get back out tonight!

The End. For now.

* Little Rascals – ppplease tell me you got that
** bike? with a skateboard? loser much?

p.s. – A big thank you to cleveland’s a plum who so publicly announced her Ryan Sheckler crush. I’m no longer embarassed to admit mine. He’s just so damn adorable!

Ryan Sheckler @ AST Dew Tour

Ryan Sheckler @ AST Dew Tour


13 08 2008

I was flipping thru my journal – you know, the papercopy I cheat on this blog with – and came across an entry with the quote:

It’s never too late to be what you might have been.
– George Eliot (aka Mary Ann Evans)

I’ve been thinking along those lines recently. It’s inspired me to take up some of the things I’ve never pursued because of a fear of failure in the eyes of my peers.

I’ve never been so excited to make an ass outa myself.  Can’t wait to report back.  🙂


Readers:  Anything you want to do but haven’t had the guts to try?

Damsel in Distress vs. Independent Woman

4 04 2008

 Is it possible to be both?

Lately, my dreams have been stranger than usual.  Yes, I remember almost all my dreams.  Yes, I dream every night.  That may be strange in itself.  However, they normally play out like normal days with a few minor changes – such that sometimes I cant tell what was dreamt and what actually happened.  In the last 2 wks though, I’ve dreamt of:

  • Heavy metal band in a 12 person muddy moshpit w/ couches
  • A giant Koala
  • Strange purple dresses
  • Flying brooms

(Bear with me. I have a point.)

Do you dream the same dream ever?  Mine repeat a lot with little changes – it’s like rereading those books with multiple endings.  The latest repeating one… dancing at Cush with friends, being insulted by some random guy, stalking out, he accosts me at the exit & hits me.  Here’s where it changes each time.  Sometimes, I hit back and run.  Others, my guy friends (mysteriously hiding in the backdrop) leap to my defense.  And last night, I just sat down and cried.

In some ways, I’d like to have that boyfriend or guy friend stand up for me.  It isn’t out of a want to act weak and helpless.  Rather, I’d like to see that they would – that presented with such a situation – they’d come to my rescue.

But I don’t need saving.  I can rescue myself.

Chatting with my guy friends, I’ve gotten the impression that many guys like to be the Protector.  Yet, they have difficultly with a crying girl.  And feel emasculated by an independent woman who doesn’t need a strong man to keep her feeling safe.

Where is the median?  I don’t cry or freak out often enough to warrant a damsel in distress.  I don’t usually give anyone the chance to standup for me.  But I love having someone else be the stronger one – both physically & emotionally – because they make me feel safe.

Thoughts? Personal conflicts? Weirdass dreams to share?


27 03 2008

*Note* I know I’ve been a shit commentator as of late.  I’m still reading all you lovelies.  Just feeling awfully self-involved at the moment and can’t seemed to think nice thoughts.  I have 230 posts left to catch up on, but I promise I’ll get to it soon.  Feel free to leave a nasty comment. I deserve it.

So obviously “that time of the month.”  Last week all I could think about was sex.  This week I’m feeling miserably alone.  Tempted by chocolate.  (not that it helps.) Threating to cry. (for what reason?) Checking my inbox every hour for msgs from Indie. (none.) Pathetic.


SCE called over Easter totally out of the blue.  We were both back home for the weekend, and he was looking to go out to the bars.  I had friends over and turned him down.  Still.  Flattered he called. First time I’ve heard from him since the game.


One of the most beautiful things I’ve ever read:

I can listen no longer in silence.  I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach.  You pierce my soul.  I am half agony, half hope.  Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever.  I offer myself to you again with a heart ever more your own than when you almost broke it, eight and a half years ago.  Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death.  I have loved none but you.  Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant.  – From a letter to Anne Elliot by Captain Wentworth in Jane Austen’s Persuasion

Austen wrote with such delibrate passion that slowly develops until it bursts forth in that letter.  I borrowed both Persuasion & Northanger Abbey from the library last week.  I’m desperate to go back for more.


My sister is staying with me til Saturday.  I’d call her little, but she is 17 & 5’6.”  Love her to death.  She’s f*ing hilarious, gorgeous, a totally healthnut and understands me like no one else.  Then the parentals are picking us up on their way through town and we’re off to Michigan Ave & Ikea SHOPPING. 


It’s lunchtime. I’ve been reading through a book a friend gave me for my birthday.  A Woman’s Europe is a collection of short stories written by women – so far we’ve only hit Greece, France and Italy a few times.  Surprisingly, moved first by the quote on a title page and the author descriptions following each passage.

“It is never too late to be what you might have been.”  – George Eliot (aka Mary Ann Evans)

And how would my description read?

“Grace Kelly is a brillant & engaging marketing assistant currently working in the construction industry doing non-marketing tasks.  She resides in the city with her cousin and a plant she can’t kill.  After graduating college last May, she has not managed to learn to cook or keep house and still hates laundry.  She is single & petless.  Someday she hopes to meet Mr. Right, get married and have 4 lovely children.  In the meantime, she excels at her dull job and dreams wistfully of a Mr. Indie who she still somewhat hopes will come around in full Captain Wentworth style.”

St. Paddy’s & Ramblings

17 03 2008

It’s St. Patrick’s Day, and I’m stuck at work.  Would much rather be at home admiring the beautiful decorations I surprised roomie with this morning.  And drinking a pint.  Instead, I’ve my earl grey tea, a computer, & a shitton of work to finish before wednesday.  Love my slacking? Me too.  So I’m just gonna make notations of my random thoughts all day… Ready?  Set?  Drink! …shit, I mean Go!



Think I nearly cracked a rib reading one of the last Stuff White People Like.  Just about everything in there is cute and I can totally relate (unfortunately/fortunately?) almost every time. 

When white people aren’t working, they generally like to wear Outdoor Performance Clothes. The top suppliers of these garments and accessories include North Face…  The main reason white people like these clothes is that it allows them to believe that at any moment they could find themselves with a Thule rack on top of their car headed to a national park. It could be 4:00 p.m. on a Saturday when they might  get a call “hey man, you know what we need to do? Kayak then camping, right now. I’m on my way to get you, there is no time to change clothes.”  via Outdoor Performance Clothes


Skimming through the sites again I came across this Xanga – Pikerfromthesticks.  Gah. Remember xanga?  I had one, what, 4 years ago now?  I haven’t a clue what it was called anymore.  Xanga was fantastic if only for the fact that you could easily put up whatever the latest music or novel you’re in the middle of.  Just another random insight – before the Face and all. I’d like to think I wrote beautifully but it’s prolly no different than this blog.  However, the writing of this blog is sublime.  The background is a bit distracting, you’ve gotta highlight the text to actually read, and he hasn’t written in months.  But his descriptions are beautiful.  The words and phrasings he uses are both eloquent and real.  I just have to share:

Oh Ed…Anything But Blue…

Summer’s come and gone and fall is finally here.

2007. I couldn’t have dreamed this one in a thousand years. What a strange year. You gave me so much and very little will ever be the same. If I would have predicted summer in April, I wouldn’t have guessed this. I would be dead fucking wrong.

But lately, that’s just fine by me.

I got a place with two friends on the third floor where the skyline appears bright and luminous. Cranes outside blink their anti-aircraft lights in flashes of red all night, nearly indistinguishable from the pinkish hue that casts itself in perfectly striped lines on my bedroom walls. I work in a restaurant down the street where for the first time in my life, I am the minority and that’s just fine by me.

My life exists in a twelve block radius. I own no car or bike, but leg it through the neighborhood at the pace of life, able to take it all in. The leaves have changed and swirl around me on the street which never fails to get a smile. It makes me want to carve pumpkins.

So I started collecting records and reading in so much free time as the TV collected dust. I bought plants and posters and drank whiskey and wine until I had my fill. I kept my pack small and strong, with always enough time for everybody. I hung out in smoky jazz bars with red and blue lights, far, far away from the scene. There was a beat to my days, with the tempo turned up a bit as of late. Give me a walking bass line and snare, something I can turn the lights down low for, pull my hat over my eyes and just groove to.Then the school year started and things got busy, but part of me thought that was okay. Streamlining to a lean existence can be so satisfying sometimes.I want to take up a language. I want to play piano. I want to tend plants. I want to cook elaborate meals from scratch. I want to help whomever I can. I want to fold a thousand paper cranes, just to set them ablaze for the hell of it. I want to walk that highway 300 miles back to the north country. I want to read until I fall asleep.

The warm fuzzy feeling I get now and again is that there’s time to do these things.

So I might as well hop to it.

See you space cowboy.

Archives note England, Scotland, Norway, Belgium… Definately worth a look.  I especially love the posts from London because he so perfectly illustrates the feeling of life there.


Just joined the 20 Somethings Blogger group on!  Go us! Talk about a wonderful group for a beautiful group of writers.  Props to Deutlich for leading the charge and apparently James for the grand idea.  I did hesitate to throw myself in the ring at first.  I’m ever more aware that I am really putting myself out there on the net now.  The associations between my blog and my music page and the Face… Starts to niggle the worries that the wrong people might stumble across the blog.  But I don’t really see that happening I guess.  Those who I wouldn’t want looking at my writtings wouldn’t think to look anyway.


On one last note, I’m in love with the offset of the guitars and the vocals on Galaxies by Laura Veirs.  Listen to it here:  Galaxies 

That’s all. Have a great St. Paddy’s Day! I’ll toast you all with a Guinness tonight.  Party hard! (And don’t you dare drive home drunk tonight.)

Under Pressure

22 02 2008

I hate pressure.  Peer pressure.  I’m horrible with it.

I try very very hard not to put other people in a position where they feel pressured to do something.  Usually, I even provide possible excuses they can opt for to get the easy way out.  I don’t usually guilt people into doing things.

For Example:  This weekend my roomie & I are hosting people for drinks and just hangingout for a bit before hitting the bars.  I have held my tongue millions of times to try not to push people into coming.  Like my girls. Who are reading this.  I know I have put a little eensy bit of pressure on you to come because, well, you hardly visit. Which is understandable. You’re busy people.  However, I feel that this backfired a bit on me… as we invited a lot of people and so far only 5 are coming… besides us. 

The real reason I really hate peer pressure though is because I got it a lot as a kid.  Instead of giving in eventually, I became THAT KID.  You know the one. The pushover.  Now, you can find me drunk being hit on by a kinda random – such as Greekboy – who says “hey, I want to makeout with you.” “hmm I dont want to.” “seriously. let’s go back to my place.” “fine.”   See? I follow directions. Specifically when I’m drunk.  Horribly.  Tell me to walk out in the street. I will. Tell me to follow you. I will.  Tell me to do anything.  I will. So afraid this is gonna get me in trouble one of these days.  lol.  I’m such a confident person when the least amount of liquor touches my lips.  I’ll walk home. Through the city.  Anywhere.  I feel untouchable… invincible…

Soooo I don’t care if you’re curious. I just have to share:  Indie

I’ve been doing really well not overly talking about him.  I’ve really held my tongue.  Roomie will prolly cut it out though if I see him and nothing happens.  She’s gotten the brunt of it.  And bless her soul, she’s been cheery, happy, & encouraging the whole time.  Thank god for cousins.

Indie was sick earlier this week and only answered “I might” when I asked if he might come to the party on Saturday. I have kept my cool for the most part. (Although there have been minor panics of “I dreamed it! I dreamed it all!”)  I didn’t want to ask too often because that much pressure is annoying (hence the earlier topic).  But I DID want to know. And if he couldn’t I wanted to know why.  That’s just me.  I need details.  He is more of the yes/no fact/fiction variety.  No need for unnecessaries.  So I knew that he’d tell me if he could or couldnt in due course. 

We talked every single day since tech.  Just joking around.  I was figureing he was leaning towards No because he had been sick at the beginning of the wk (i was too ugh).  HOWEVER. I couldnt hold it in anymore and asked today if he was coming.  Apparently his parents are in town (he told me that earlier… I had just forgotten they were going to visit) but if they left saturday he was definitely driving over. FUCK YES.  That’s all I needed.  That extra reassurance that this isnt all in my head.

Now if you think I’m cracked, eh; he and I are on the same wavelength for this stuff.  And I dont care what you think.  Ok fine I do.  But I’m right. I know I’m right.  And thank the fucking heavens roomie hasnt killed me yet.  Thank you karma! I’m being good. I promise!

The Story Itself

11 02 2008

Ok wow.  There are just so many pieces and tangents to this story!!!  Good lord.  So we have the story itself, the talk, the following night, the 7hr epiphany, & the txt.  Damn.  Hope you’re ready.  Oh and feel free to be blunt in your comments.  I know I’m a pathetic loser.  I mean come on!  I’ve been smitten with Indie for almost 2 YEARS! ridic

The Story Itself:
Winter Carnival up at MI Tech.  Hell yes!  I was really psyched for a wkend up in the middle of nowhere with my cousins.  Visiting P’s frat (er, fraternity sorry. “you don’t call your country a cunt do you?!?!”) and meeting fun drunken brothers was tops on my list of things to do.  Both LP & Indie were supposed to be up there too but I knew I wouldn’t see them – because I wasn’t planning on calling them.

Sidenote: Finally told Indie on Wednesday that I was going up to tech as well and, chicken that I am, played it off as “oh really? I thought I had told you ages ago… oops!”

We got into town late, hung out with the Director of Student Affairs – who’s house we were crashing at, then stopped by the frat (henceforth known as House) to say hi to a few people before hitting up the bars.  P was loved by everyone during his years at tech – involved in everything, president of the House & of the tech student body for 2 years – which is how we got anything we wanted all wkend. 😉 Yay free alcohol!

We are standing around at the House meeting people when someone moves into my peripheral.  Roomie, who I’m talking to at the time, glances over and I turn to see… Indie standing there, full shock on his face, arms open for a hug. I WAS STUNNED.  Literally! I think I just stood there in shock for a moment.

Roomie, Indie & I just joked around a bit.  He apparently actually cared that I had only just told him I was also gonna be up at tech for the wkend and kept asking how I could’ve forgotten to tell him sooner.  He cared! Yay!  Roomie re-invited him to our upcoming party to which I added “rsvp early and you can even lay claim to the couch as oppose to the wood floor” (where he slept last time). And what does she say??? “Or Grace’s bed. You could always sleep there.” omfg. We joked through the awkward moment with me glaring and Indie grinning. Thanks roomie. (yes, it was kinda… implied but not to be said aloud!!!) damn girl.

Anyway, we left for the bars but told him we’d be back. A bit of time spent at the Dog found a guy I graduated from high school with and lots of random brothers & friends. Then, after my 1st ever jagerbomb we went back to the House.  I was sooo excited to see him again. Inside I was bouncing up and down like the 13yr old I act like.  He was so friendly and confident and looking amazing hot (and slightly sloshed, but weren’t we all?)

Ran into his blitzed friend, literally, at the top of the stairways and we went to the basement to get drinks.  Indie was there talking to some of the brothers.  Dance party for Roomie & I.  Indie’s friend sways precariously.  I turn to request a song from P at the booth and when I turn back, Roomie & Indie are deep in discussion. Drunk and not thinking straight my first thought is “oh noes! Now he’s gonna like her. Not that he likes me but boo.” “wtf. That’s not true. They aren’t even flirting.” Yes, I argue with myself when drunk. When I walked over to join the conversation both Indie & Roomie go dead silent.  Like you do when you are talking about someone and too tipsy to come up with a pretend conversation.  just great. awkward.  I walk away and turn back to P start to ramble about Indie.  Smiling but not looking up he says “stop being such a pussy. both of you. geez. just make a move.”

15 minutes later? 2 hours later? No idea.

He and I are alone just talking and joking around when he kisses me. Damn!  I get butterflies just thinking about it! BEST KISS EVER. Seriously! Eventually his friend came back down and broke us up but all I could think about was wanting to go back to that moment. That perfect moment. I have been dreaming about a kiss like this since… well, forever.  It was just so perfect. Takes your breath away.

The rest of the night is a blur.  I fuzzily remember his arm around me.  Don’t remember them leaving.  Do remember texting him at 3am “come back. where did you go?” (which actually came out as come bakc where d u go?) Then we must’ve left and gone to bed. Not really sure of that last bit. But as drunk as I was, my head was clear (and blissful) while we were kissing.

The next morning I woke up at 6am – like you do when you’ve been out drinking. I just sat in bed reminiscing and trying not to wake roomie. So tough when you’re grinning from ear to ear and trying not to burst with giggles. Totally over the moon about it.

Stay Tuned for The Talk & The Following Night