Do Do Do Do, De Da Da Da

For weeks, rumors had been swirling that The Police would be reuniting in 2007 which is the 30th anniversary of the song, "Roxanne." Well, ladies and gentlemen, we are one step closer to that actually happening. It's just been announced that the legendary 80's band will be performing at the Grammy Awards on February 11th and that a confirmation of an upcoming reunion tour is also expected. I'm not sure how to convey the depth of my excitement in a blog so you'll just have to imagine me jumping up and down right now while I type this. There are certain bands/musicians that I wish I could've seen in concert (Bob Marley, The Clash, Led Zeppelin and Thelonious Monk), and The Police have always been in my top five. If this reunion tour happens, I could get my wish.

Rocking a Pair of Green Suede Boots

One of my biggest fashion disasters in high school was a pair of green suede boots. It was towards the end of my love affair with all things Esprit, and I had seen this super popular girl at my old school wearing them at a basketball game once. I was 16 and going to the mall in South Bend (IN) was Nirvana to me. Mom and I were browsing in the shoe department at L.S. Ayers when I saw them. Green. Suede. Esprit. It's amazing how desperately you can want something that 10 seconds ago you didn't even know existed. I was convinced that I couldn't live without these boots and waited in giddy impatience while the sales associate went to find my size. He came back with two boxes, apologizing for not having an 8 1/2 and bringing an 8 and a 9. Despite being a true 8 1/2, I saw this as only a minor setback. The 9 was way too big, my toes lost in a warehouse of empty space at the end of the boot. Pulling on the 8, I was inwardly dismayed. They pinched. Walking in them was uncomfortable, but I turned to my mom and declared they felt great. I loved them and would wear them everyday. One Friday, a few weeks later, I visited my old school and got to spend the day with friends. I was wearing a Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt tucked into a pair of Guess jeans. I strutted my stuff through the old hallways, past the cute boys and the popular girls in my green suede boots, with one sound repeating itself in my head, "Ow, ow, ow (damn it!) ow, ow, ow...."

Anyway Wanna Do My Groceries?

Here's my grocery list...

1. Cucumber
2. String Cheese
3. Vitamin Water (Raspberry Apple is my favorite)
4. Yoplait Yogurt
5. Hummus
6. Pinto Beans (for my 3rd attempt at making a burrito)
7. Method Hand Wash (environmentally friendly)
8. Yellow and Orange pepper (1 each)
9. Rye bread
10. Green grapes

Thanks. I really appreciate it.

Beating Up on a Dead Guy... Nice.

Am I the only one who's sick of Steve Irwin yet? Everytime I turn on the Animal Planet (favorite shows: "Growing Up..." and "Animal Cops"), there's another airing of the Special dedicated to his work and legacy or the last film he made with one of the Cousteaus before he died. He's on the cover of People Magazine's Yearbook of 2006, and there's a book (and probably more than one) coming out about his life. His wife has made the rounds on all the talk shows, and his daughter, Bindi, is apparently going to carry on the Irwin name as a naturalist and television personality. She's eleven, by the way. Here's my beef. Steve Irwin was reckless with his life and would do anything for a good photo op. Anyone remember the scene with the baby and the crocodile? Michael Jackson was villified for pulling a similar stunt, yet this guy is practically being nominated for sainthood. I also objected to the way he interacted with wild animals, disrupting them in their natural habitat and causing undue stress on them instead of observing from a safe distance. His programs were less about the animals and more about his theatrics and getting the "money shot." He was like the circus guy who sticks his head in a lion's mouth for a crowd reaction. Cheap thrills. Yes he died in a freak accident. It's sad. But tragic? I don't think so. So, people, it's time to let Steve Irwin go. Just like Tupac and Kurt Cobain. RIP.

Luck Be a Lady

Luck. Some people have it. Some don't. I've known individuals who seem to float through life, untouched by the tragedy, disappointment, setbacks and heartache that tarnish the rest of our lives. To my eternal regret, I am not one of those people. Sometimes it seems like I'm the unluckiest person of all time. In this past month alone, I've crashed my bike, didn't get a job I really wanted, found out an article I submitted to a magazine wasn't accepted and had to cancel plans for a trip I'd been planning on taking. In fact, I've decided that January has been declared, "Stomp on Rebekah Month." It feels like a giant hand is pressing down on me, and I can't seem to get out from under it. Somehow, though, when things look really grim and I can't see my way through the disaster I happen to be caught up in, things just kind of work out. And maybe that's my kind of luck. It's not quite the same thing as winning the lottery, but I'll take it.

Music to Download Now

These are the songs that are playing in a continuous loop on my iPod...

1. "Naked Sun" by ... And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead
2. "9 Crimes" by Damien Rice
3. "Nothing's Gonna Change Your Mind" by Badly Drawn Boy
4. "When I Wake" by The Changes
5. "When You Thought You'd Never Stand Out" by Copeland
6. "Golden Days" by The Damnwells
7. "The Fatalist" by Robbers on High Street

Give Peace a Chance

So yesterday was the first Saturday I didn't have to work in AGES, and it was really nice. I had lunch (Cru Cafe... their 4 cheese macaroni is out of this world) with an old friend who was in town for a wedding, did some window shopping, took a nap with Dudley and went to the Terrace where the documentary, "The US vs. John Lennon" had just opened the night before. It was fantastic and totally relevant to the political situation we find ourselves in today. The Beatles were coming to an end, and Lennon had found a freedom to say and do whatever he wanted through his relationship with Yoko Ono. Increasingly, he was compelled to speak out against the Vietnam War, both in interviews and in his music. The documentary deals with how Lennon was targeted by J. Edgar Hoover and the FBI because of his anti-war sentiment, but despite having his phones tapped and the threat of deportation, Lennon never lost sight of his goal which was an end to the War. The documentary gives an insightful look at this turbulent time through interviews with Walter Kronkite, Ron Kovic, Carl Bernstein, Angela Davis, Gore Vidal, Bobby Seale, Noam Chomsky, George McGovern, John Sinclair (the funniest segment in the film), Yoko Ono and many others who not only lived the 60's and early 70's but were on the front lines of a revolution that was happening in this country. The parallels to today are obvious.

This One's for You, Brian

A recent post included several "shout-outs" to some of my friends. Well, it seems like a few people felt left out and requested shout-outs of their own (for future reference... you can't ASK for a shout-out. It has to be freely given, but whatever). So here you go, Brian. Your very own special mention. Oh, and that cute girl in the middle? That's my great friend, Kerry. Miss you.

Are You Experienced?

If Jaywalking is a skill then I should have a black belt in it. Living in Boston, I could get from Downtown Crossing to Copley Square without ever having to stop for traffic, a 15 minute trek that traversed several busy streets, including Tremont, Charles and Boylston. There's an art to it that comes with experience. You weave between cars, gauging how fast a vehicle is approaching and instinctively sensing when to check forward momentum for a fraction of a second before slipping through the stream of traffic. Jaywalking requires a steeliness when it's time to step into the path of an oncoming car with mere moments to spare in reaching the safety of the opposite curb before it zips past, trailing an invisible plume of exhaust. The unspoken rule of Jaywalking is to never run, just keep to a smooth steady pace that doesn't impede the driver. Ordinary pedestrians can only stare in awe when a skilled Jaywalker boldly walks into the road while they hover uncertainly on the corner like wildebeest facing a river full of crocodiles. Some drivers can't handle Jaywalkers. They see someone stepping out with seconds to slip on by, and their nerve breaks. The car lurches to an abrupt stop. A car horn squawks in angry protest. Hands make rude, impatient gestures. And as you glide around the vehicle, you glance at the driver in vague contempt because you know you had clearance and his theatrics are ridiculous. If cities are considered Urban Jungles, then Jaywalking is a survival skill. Once you master it, crossing the street will never be the same.

My Peanut Joke

Here's my favorite joke ever. Feel free to add your own.

Two peanuts were walking down the street. One was assaulted.

Now that's funny.

Landmarks on the Body

If the body is a map, then I guess a person's scars could be considered landmarks or points of interest. Regardless what they're called, a network of scars is like a thumbprint. Something utterly unique that identifies this person as me. The first scar I remember getting was from when I was in Girl Scouts, and my mom was the troop leader. During one of our meetings, we were getting a primer in the use of a pocket knife, and my mom distinctly told us to be careful. Not five minutes later, I'd cut myself on the pad of my left middle finger. I don't remember how it happened, but it might've had something to do with me trying to be rebellious because I think I'd already figured out that being a Girl Scout wasn't cool. The next year, I quit. The scar above my lip is from the summer I went rollerskating with two of my cousins. Up to that point, I could probably count the number of times I'd actually gone skating on one hand so why we strapped on our skates and headed for the "hills" I will never know. What I do know is that halfway down a really steep hill where the pavement was "grooved" to slow down cars, I realized I had no idea how to stop and ended up using my face as a break. I left the hospital with 13 stitches. I have a faint scar on my right inner wrist that could be mistaken for a misguided attempt on my life, but even though I was in high school at the time, I didn't try to slit my wrist... at least not on purpose. It happened after a football game, and I was a cheerleader who needed to get my stuff out of a locker, but the gate to the school was locked so I climbed the fence. On my way over the top, I snagged my wrist on a curved metal barb. A year ago I, unwittingly, got caught in a cat fight (Dudley kicks ass by the way), and one of the cats ripped open the skin on my right thumb. My knee-jerk reaction was to call my parents who told me to go to the hospital, but instead I went out to dinner with a friend. It's a big scar so I definitely could've used stitches. There are two scars on my upper left arm, and I tell people who ask that they are bullet wounds. They aren't. They're places where I had moles removed by an overzealous doctor. Finally, the scar on my left knee is so new it's still pink. It's from when I crashed my bike a few weeks ago. The point in revealing all this? Well now if you encounter a doppelganger who pesists in telling you she's me, you'll know to check for the landmarks on her body that prove otherwise. Brilliant.

A Look Back

I've recently been informed by a good friend who is also an experienced blogger (Hi Brad!) that it's a tradition to write a review of the past year on or around January 1st. I'm about a week late, but what the heck. Looking back on the year that was 2006, I have to say it was an amazing time for me. 2006 was my first full year in Charleston, and I've never regretted my decision to move down here. In fact, I'm convinced now more than ever that leaving Boston was absolutely the best thing for me although I DO miss Anna's Taqueria, the T (can you believe it?), walking along the Charles, The Garment District and that weird little store on Newbury Street with the gargoyles. Charleston's been incredibly good to me though. I've made some super cool friends (Shout Outs to: Eliza! Brad! Rani! Kevin! Jacob! Zhareen! Jacob #2! Chris! and Michael!), and as soon as I fix up my apartment, it'll be the best pad I've ever had. Dudley taught me that everything I ever knew about cats did not apply to him. I discovered places in Charleston to love... Raval, 52.5, the top of the Bridge with its panoramic view of downtown, Sullivan's Island, the quiet little park off of Broad, Fast & French, Pet Helpers and walking down my street at dusk. I was given an incredible opportunity to write a regular column in the "Oldest Newspaper in the South," which in turn gave me the confidence to contact other publications about writing for them. I was able to see my family more than I thought. I traveled. I climbed a mountain (see picture). 2006 wasn't all hearts and flowers though. I had (minor) surgery, treated someone to a shopping spree around Charleston to the tune of $2800 and lost the person I considered to be my best friend for reasons I still don't know. 2007 has a lot to live up to, but I'm looking forward to seeing what the year will bring. Life is an adventure. The fun part is seeing where it takes us next.

My Biggest Fear

There are a few things that scare the bejesus out of me... spiders, flying cockroaches, horror movies, myself in the mirror at 7:00 am. But my biggest fear is of settling and taking the easy way out. It's something I've struggled against since college and discovered I wanted to be a writer which, let's face is, is not exactly the most secure way of making a living unless you're Danielle Steel or James Patterson (the male version of Danielle Steel). Sometimes having a dream that few other people understand can be really discouraging not to mention lonely, and the temptation is always there to give up or give in. I know people in my life who have done just that. There's a guy I used to admire who was a dreamer. He talked about the Peace Corps. Of going to grad school and being a teacher. Of getting into the music industry. Instead he's an accountant which, don't get me wrong, I'm not knocking if that's your dream, but it was never his. This guy is also in a relationship that's "okay" where "things are fine" and he's "comfortable." What about being madly, crazy in love where you can't imagine your life without this person and want to spend the next 60 years by her side? He's only 27, and he's already settled into a life that he never really wanted for himself. I look at him and feel sad. Because that guy is a midlife crisis just waiting to happen and because he's never had the guts to tell people what he really wants. Dreams don't always come true, but they definitely don't happen if you never even try.

Introducing Dudley

Music I'm Currently Obsessed With

Lately it seems there's been a virtual avalanche of really great music coming out, and like any good glutton, I've been gorging myself. Here's a list of the music I've been listening to lately...

1. The Cold War Kids "Robbers & Cowards"- Indie Rock with a bluesy kick.
2. French Kicks "Two Thousand"- Melds bits of classic pop, new wave & electronica.
3. "Monsieur Gainsbourg Revisited"- a compilation of Serge Gainsbourg's music from Cat Power, Franz Ferdinand et al.
4. The Shins "Chutes Too Narrow"- I allowed my viseral hatred of "New Slang" to blind me to the genius that is The Shins.
5. The Hold Steady "Boys & Girls in America"- The song "Massive Nights" is the greatest ode to high school.
6. M. Ward "Post War"- California minstrel with a Dust Bowl era sound.
7. Cat Power "The Greatest"- A lightning leap forward musically in an homage to Southern soul.
8. Sean Lennon "Friendly Fire"- A beautiful album about betrayal, jealousy and unrequited love.
9. Editors "The Back Room"- Fans of Interpol will love this. The sound is raw & frantic.
10. The Secret Machines "Ten Silver Drops"- I saw them live in Charleston at the Music Farm, and they seriously rocked.

My Crowning Achievement in Photography