Batter up

Happy, happy, joy, joy!

I just signed up for a recreational softball league and I am so excited. I haven't played in years. Damn, it's been almost ten years.

I miss the smell of the grass and taste of grit in my mouth after I slid into third base. I miss the sweat and the grass stain on my pants and the ice cream (in high school) or the beers (at work) the team would get after a game.

I miss the feeling of being part of a team. Cheering for someone up at bat or trying to psyche out the pitcher. Of the inside-out rally caps or the silly superstitions we had to follow in order to win a game.

I miss the singing on the bus on the way to games and dumping the water cooler over our coach when we won.

I miss how my thighs used to look when I was 17 years old. Crap.

My original Jersey Boy

I went to my first concert the summer before I entered high school. It was Bon Jovi during the Slippery When Wet tour.

Shelly, my best friend, and I went with her aunts to the Meadowlands to see our local Jersey boys (this was way before I was obsessed with Bruce Springsteen, the real Jersey boy).

Our seats were awful. They were completely opposite of the stage at the very top of the stadium. You could hardly see Jon and the boys on stage as they were specks bathed in light. And we were probably getting a second-hand high from all the pot smoke that wafted to the highest parts of the arena.

But for us, it was magic. Because when Jon and Richie sang, they were singing to us. When Jon was strapped in that harness and flew over the audience, he was on his way to see us. And when they left the stage before the encore, it was only our clapping and cheering that would bring the band back on stage.

Now, almost 25 years later I found myself at a Bon Jovi concert Monday night. I wasn't in the Meadowlands this time, but I still felt at home in Raleigh because my original Jersey boys had come to town.

It was a greatest hits tour so I was transported back to my 14 year old life, cheering and knowing that when Jon was singing
Take my hand and well make it - I swear
Livin on a prayer

He was singing only to me.

2009: Year in Photos

I say goodbye to another year, and look forward to the next.

Wishing you health, love and laughter in 2010.

High School Reunion

I love how Facebook has been bringing people together. Saturday, all because of our reconnections on Facebook, many of my classmates from high school got together to meet up. Many after 18 years.

It was great to see everyone. At first I was worried that I wouldn't be able to recognize who came in the room, especially those who I really didn't hang out with, but it was easy. People really haven't changed and it was pretty comforting.

The best part was the ease in which we all talked with each other. None of the 'clique-y' barriers that existed in school were there anymore. Everyone was amazing, everyone was beautiful, everyone had their own story to tell. There were some moments of 'remember when' but mostly we talked about our new lives, our successes, and (in some cases) children.

It wasn't until that reunion that I fully realized the wealth I had growing up with these people. We all 'stayed real' and didn't put on any illusions of grandeur. We had the support in our lives to achieve whatever we wanted to, but were also kept grounded by our roots -- and from what I saw, no one seemed to loose sight of where we came from.

Colonia High School Class of 1991. You rock!

(Rest of photos)

80's Flashback

In preparation for tomorrow's Poison concert, here's a picture of me when I sang Dokken's "In My Dreams" during my 8th grade talent show in 1987.

You gotta love the feathered hair and fringe jeans.

My namesakes

On my way into work this morning, a blast from the past song came up on my iPod. Samantha Fox's "I Wannna Have Some Fun". Come on, you remember her, the English model/singer from the late 80's.

Well hearing that song brings up memories of a tidbit of silly information on me.

I had gone to CCD, which is like Sunday school, except it was on Saturday morning. It was pretty much a social event since you got to hang out with your friends from school for an hour on the weekend. You stated in first grade and went all the way through to 8th grade where it all culminated with Confirmation, where you receive the sacrament of the Holy Spirit.

The best part about Confirmation was that you got to choose your Confirmation name. I didn't have a middle name so I thought it would be cool to finally get one. And it was all my choice!

Typically you would select a proper Christian name from the Bible. Friends had chose Mary, Elizabeth, Theresa. Not me. I chose Samantha. I wanted a rock star middle name and at that time, the coolest slut was Samantha Fox. (Lita Ford was also an option, but 'Lita' just didn't sound right with my name.)

Not to ignore my first name, it also has a story.

My dad was a fan of Claudine Longet, a popular singer/actress/dancer from Paris of the 60's and 70's. She was married to Andy Williams and later dated skier "Spider" Sabich. She was later arrested for 'accidentally' killing Spider by shooting him in the back, but was acquitted because of mishandling of evidence and other police blunders. She then later married her defense lawyer who left his wife and children to be with her.

So there you have it, folks. I'm named after a homicidal beauty home-wrecker and a bimbo slut.

Where does your name come from?

Sorority Fag

You know sometimes how listening to a song can automatically transport you back to a specific time or place in your past? Well, this morning on the way to work I heard a song that brought me back to my sorority days. "Build Me Up Buttercup" by The Foundations.

I was a complete sorority fag. Each semester as part of Rush, we would make up songs to cheer as the Rushees came to visit our chapter house. The more fun and the more catchy the songs were, the better they were. I made up a song for to the tune of "Buttercup". Sing along with me please...

Why don't you come and see Alpha Xi, baby
Its the place for you, with a love so true
And best of all, we'll be around baby
If you ask us to, we'll stand by you
We want you, we want you
More than anyone, darlin'
You know that we have from the start.
So come and be, an Alpha Xi
Don't break our hearts.

This was a hit. I sang it so much that even now, I can't sing the real words to the song.

But my Rush song legacy was one I wrote to the tune of the "Always Coca-Cola" song. I taught this to chapters all over the Eastern states during a chapter president's conference one year.


The stars will always shine, the birds will always sing
With Alpha Xi Delta you're always the real thing
A sisterhood so true, we're all number one
As long as there is love, there's Alpha Xi Delta
Doo doo doo doo doo, We're Alpha Xi Delta

You can thank me later for putting these songs in your head.

Poor-man's Therapy

I've been keeping a journal in one form or another, on and off, for quite a few years. Some have been public in a blog, but most of it has been private in my handwritten books.

I started keeping a journal simply as a way to remind myself of things I've done. I still have all my notes from middle and high school still folded up in those crazy origami patterns to make it impossible to open easy. I like to look back and laugh at that silly 14-year-old who thought she knew it all. Now the journals collect my thoughts, feelings, and recollections of crazy antics. It serves as my own time capsule.

I find that I write more often and more eloquently when I'm going though some sort of emotional change. Usually when I'm starting a new relationship or ending one, the entries become more heart-felt. The pages have become my therapist and I reveal my soul through the ink.

Samara O'Shea wrote about her keeping a journal, "So to me a journal is that place to be unabashedly honest with yourself, and it's dangerous because you won't always like what you see. You'll look at your thoughts and say, "I don't actually think that do I?" You do and it's fine."

She has a new book coming out Note to Self: On Keeping a Journal and Other Dangerous Pursuits that I'm interested in getting. In it she provides some suggestions and exercises:

• Write in a stream of consciousness: Forget everything you ever learned about writing and just write. Let it all out: the good, bad, mad, angry, boring, and ugly.
• Ask yourself questions: What do I want to change about myself? What would I never change about myself?
• Copy quotes: Other people's words can help you figure out where you are in life, or where you'd like to be.
• It takes time: Don't lose faith if you don't imme­diately feel better after writing in your journal. Think of each entry as part of a collection that will eventually reveal its meaning to you.

I like to write in my journal, but I would like to be able to leave my mark with some thing more substantial than nonsensical ramblings and sporadic pearls of wisdom. I want it to be something that will be insightful to future generations of my family. I want it to be a part of my legacy.

How about you? Why do you blog/journal?

I <3 Facebook

I was 'friended' this week by a friend from high school who I haven't heard from since he graduated 18 years ago. The beep on my Blackberry went off at 6:45 am and immediately I had to check and see what was going on. There was the message..."Craig Watkinson wants to be your friend".

What?! I reached over and grabbed my laptop lying on the floor next to my bed and fired it up.

Holy crap, he's in LA acting and teaching, has a beautiful wife, and he's HOT!! He even has his own IMDB page. Let the cyber-stalking begin. He's now my secret married boyfriend. (Secret because he doesn't even know it.)

Of course I told the idiots (aka Mike and Steve) at work and was immediately ridiculed. "Did you actually know him in high school, or did you just pass in the halls. If we were to call him right now and mention your name, would he have any clue who we were talking about?"

Oh whatever.

An excerpt from what he wrote in my yearbook:

...Being "Clau'd" was the best thing that ever happened to me (even though you missed my 'special spot'). Your calves rule! You are like Calvin, Hobbes and Bart all rolled up into one. Your wild nature magnifies my heart like an old man with sneakers (?). I love you more than you know!...

The crazy part was that I never knew any of this while we were in school. We were friends who kidded around and it was usually me who was the butt of the jokes.

Ah well, you live, you learn. But what I wouldn't give to hop into a DeLorean to go back to 1990 just so see how things could have been different.

All thanks to Facebook.

(Hooop!)

Wimp Nation

I just read an article on Time.com, that talked about how parents are over-coddling their children, thus kids today have less defined coping mechanisms. I think it comes down to consequences -- kids no longer understand that actions come with consequences. And it is those consequences, specifically the bad ones, that really teach the greatest lessons in life.

Just this weekend, I went to my 7 year old cousin's baseball game. There was no score kept. An inning consisted of each child getting up to bat -- a three-out inning didn't exist. A kid was in the batters' box until he got a hit -- there were no strikes or balls. I understand that at an early age, little league is about learning the fundamentals, but that also includes the rules of the games. Players strike out, teams lose.

When I was younger, things were much different.

Then		Now
We drank from the garden hose, shared lunches in school, and mom's cleaned our dirty faces with spit.		It's bottled water only, custom gluten-free, peanut-free, and dairy-free lunches, and mega-sized Purell bottles.
We would meet our friends in the neighborhood park to play.		Parents set up play dates.
Acting up in class got us detention.		Acting up in class gets you Ritalin
We rode our bikes everywhere.		They get driven everywhere.
Talking back or being a brat got us smacked.		Talking back or being a brat gets them 'a stern talking to'.
Coming home with a bad grade got us grounded.		Coming home with a bad grade gets the teachers suspended.

What I don't get is that it's my generation that became the parents who coddle. Why? When did we turn all crazy and think that the world is only made up of lollipops and rainbows? Shouldn't a parents' job be to prepare their children for the real world? In the real world there are no do-overs, no game resets. You hit the ball, or you strike out. No one owes us anything, you have to go out and get it.

If I had a kid, that's the way it would be. No wimps in my house.

Poll Results

What was the first concert I went to?

• New Kids On The Block
• Motley Crue
• Bon Jovi
• Bruce Springsteen.

The answer is...

Bon Jovi on the Slippery When Wet tour in 1987.

My best friend Shelly got tickets for our 8th grade graduations. Her two 'cool' aunts were taking her and she gave the extra ticket to me. The experience was amazing.

We were at the Brendan Byrne Arena (now known as the Continental Arena) and our seats were all the way on the other side of the stage, at the very top. They sucked. All the pot smoke wafted up there as well, but I was too young and naive to know anything about that.

Shelly and I wore our bootleg Bon Jovi t-shirts and our matching fedora hats -- just like Vince Neil wore in the 'Home Sweet Home' video. Our hair was perfectly teased and feathered and our jeans were tight.

The crowd around us was fun and crazy. We screamed for Jon and his awesome hair and cute butt. We pined for the quiet, sensitive Richie. We danced and sang at the top of our lungs and hi-fived neighbors when 'Raise Your Hands' or 'You Give Love a Bad Name' was played.

But the ultimate concert moment for two 14 year old girls from New Jersey was when Jon was strapped into the harness and flew out over the crowd during 'Living On A Prayer'.




Oh, those were the days...

Poetry Jam: 1987

I wanted to write something, but I couldn't figure out what I want to write. So instead, I pulled out my poem journal from when I was in 8th grade. Remember those teenage years where every heartache was a complete tragedy and the only way for your soul to be healed was to write a poem? Oh yeah, you know you did it too...

First Night
(January 1987)

Please don't try and tempt me
Right now I must be strong.
Should I let my passion guide me
And my temptation carry me on?

You make it so hard to resist
That pleading look in your eyes.
Are you as caring and warm as you seem,
Or a devil in disguise?

Maybe I'm not just ready yet
Please try and understand
Because I'm still a little girl
And you're not yet a man.

The first night should be special
Everything should turn out right.
We'd stare into each other's eyes,
Then turn out the light.

But how do you know
That nothing will go wrong?
If you love me, then you'll wait for me
When I'm ready I'll go along.

Until that special day comes
Just stay with me.
That first night will come soon enough
Together, you and me.

Poll Results

Finally, the poll answer...

Which 80's heartthrob fan club was I a member in?

• Kirk Cameron
• Ricky Schroder
• John Stamos
• Michael J. Fox

And the answer is Ricky Schroder!

Yes, I was in his fan club. Which really was just a ploy to get an autographed picture signed 'The Ricker'.

Oh, I loved him in those Silver Spoons days.

On my birthday

Every year on my birthday, I have these conflicting emotions.

I'm excited that's its my day, my special day. As far as I'm concerned it should be a national holiday complete with parades, fireworks and open bar. I should wake up to rainbows and butterflies, breakfast in bed served by a hot, juicy man. I will be instantly thin, fit, tan and my hair will grow down to the middle of my back, all curly and bouncy. My eyesight will be 20/20 and I can lose the glasses and contacts. I will start my new career of rating spa retreats around the world. Yes, a very Sixteen Candles idea, I know.

Then the other feeling is more like "big deal". I start to question my accomplishments, what I've contributed back to the world, what my life goal is. The honest truth is that I don't know. I can look at the tangible things I've collected in life: a home, a car, a dog, an education, a job; but does all that add up to be a description of who I am? A consumer?

I've been paying attention to the changes of the world lately -- political, environmental, social, and it scares me. Where are we as the human race heading? There is so much to do and I wonder what can one small person like me do to change anything. It's an overwhelming feeling.

But then the birthday wishes come in from friends and family from all over. From those who are a part of my every day life and those who come and go for brief moments but make such an impact. It reminds me that I'm not insignificant, that to someone their life is affected (for better or worse) because they know me. It those thoughts that make all the difference and makes my birthday a little brighter.

The good old days

I stumbled upon this article and was reminded of my own battles of having to clean up my room.

CNN - "Girl calls for police help over messy room"

Growing up, my bedroom was on the top floor of a Cape Cod style house. It was a big room, which meant that I had so much extra space to leave things: my clothes, books, tapes, and anything else a 13-year old know-it-all would have.

My mom was always on my case to clean my room, but I never saw the point because no one saw my room. It was upstairs away from any visitors. My mom didn't agree with my opinion.

One one particular sunny Spring day I ignored my mom's threats of 'throwing out my stuff if I didn't clean up my room.' Like what was she really going to do?

I was watching TV in the living room when I looked out the window and saw a pair of pants, a hat, a sock sailing by. I ran outside and saw my mom, with my bedroom window open, throwing everything that was laying on my bedroom floor out the window.

It was pretty humbling picking my underwear out of the azalea bushes.