what are we listening to today?

the original Forever Young is one of my all-time favorite songs, and y'all know i'm a huge fan of covers.

this one is pretty cool, as Jay-Z puts his own spin on the classic:






Thanks, Em!

muller says...

To forgive is the highest, most beautiful form of love. In return, you will receive untold peace and happiness.

dear anonymous

to the unnamed person who sent me this hand-drawn card in the mail,

thank you. thank you. thank you.

this made my day. you really have no idea.

love,

Matthew

quote of the week, thus far

"Calm down, it will all come together."

-my mom, texting me about the potatoes i was cooking. or maybe she was talking about life in general.

stuff sweet stuff

it's one of those idle Sundays when my only wish is that i had a copy of "13 Going on 30" on DVD. you know the kind of day i'm talking about. i'm slightly hung over, far too tired to nap, and trying to stay up until a reasonable to-bed hour.

i'm exhausted. i went to an out-of-town housewarming party yesterday, which really doesn't sound that tiring, does it? but silly me, i started drinking with friends on the train to DC at 10 AM, then kept drinking off and on until i passed out at midnight. apparently everyone else at the party went out to bars. i just went to bed. and this morning all i wanted was to be at home.

too bad Amtrak wanted me to pay almost $100 to get home. too bad my dear frenemy, Ketel One, was still coursing through my poor, tired veins all morning. too bad the Chinatown bus was the only reasonable option -- though, in retrospect, my travel companion and i both agreed that we should've just paid for the train, because the Chinatown bus is always disgusting and full of horrible people. on today's ride, i witnessed an unhappy young thug threaten the bus driver midway through the ride, after which he yelled at another passenger. lovely. i just. wanted. to get. home.

"what are you rushing back for?" my friend with the warmed house asked. "you have nothing to do!"

"i just need to go home. i want to be home," i sort of explained. i know, it's not much of an explanation.


a dear friend from my hometown always harps on me for my short visits home. "you need to spend more than two nights at home! it's Christmas, for god's sake!" she'll scream, like clockwork, every winter. usually she also throws in, "your mother misses you. you need to come for a longer visit." my response to Cassifrass has become a joke between us over the past few years: "i need to go back to Philly. that's where my STUFF is." i'm pretty sure she now uses that sort-of explanation with her own mother: "because that's where my STUFF is!"

my friend in DC was right. i really have nothing to do, nor did i have a reason to rush back home, other than because my STUFF is here. but i think that's reason enough. my black pussy is here. my couch is here. my pillows are here. my clothes are here. my Ped Egg is here.

and right now i want to spend some quiet time with my STUFF. me and my couch. Attipuss will sit close-by. and if Jesus loves me, "13 Going on 30" is OnDemand.

dickens says...

It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.

mcbeal says...

Maybe I'll share my life with somebody... maybe not.
But the truth is, when I think back on my loneliest moments, there was usually somebody sitting there next to me.

The real truth is, I probably don't want to be too happy or content. Because, then what?

I actually like the quest, the search. That's the fun: the more lost you are, the more you have to look forward to.

What do you know? I'm having a great time and I don't even know it.

my hero, part IV

another excerpt from Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang -- this one not so much because it's funny, but because Chels and i feel exactly the same way about LOL.

god, i hate LOL...

I typed in my address and asked her where the wedding was.

"At Mercedes's."

"The dealership?"

"LOL!!!"

I wasn't joking, but I quickly lost interest in the conversation due to the fact that despite having spoken to Lydia at great length about misplaced enthusiasm, she insisted on using exclamation points in lieu of periods and continued pairing them with my least favorite invention, LOL. You wouldn't say LOL if you were out to lunch with someone, so why would you write it in an instant message or an e-mail? Just laugh alone in your office or house. I don't need to be notified that you're laughing. If someone is busy laughing, then how do they have the time to be typing the letters LOL?

"it's a sign!"

last night i had a very vivid dream that my buddy A and i were at a career fair, and there were some VERY important people hiring.

first, James Cameron approached me and asked if i would work on "Avatar 2." while i was talking to him, however, Randy Jackson interrupted and expressed an interest in hiring me and A. i wasn't as interested, so i went back to discussing a job with Cameron, who simply dominated my time and attention the rest of the afternoon.

at 5 PM, i realized that the career fair was ending and that i hadn't talked to the one person for whom i REALLY wanted to work: Chelsea Handler. fortunately i caught Chels just as she was packing up her booth. she thought i was funny because i was "so gay," and she agreed to look at my resume on one condition: she really wanted the "Precious" soundtrack, and she expected me to buy it for her.

a pretty successful career fair. too bad it was just a dream.


THEN, in real life, today a paralegal at my old firm, Sandy, who is one of my favorite humans, told me about a job fair being held here in Philly tomorrow...

coincidence??!?!?



.....probably. i'm not going.

so they could stand love

There is a story about the Greek gods; they were bored, so they invented human beings. But they were still bored so they invented love. Then they weren't bored any longer.

So they decided to try love for themselves.

And finally, they invented laughter, so they could stand it.

postsecret

i promise you, kid

and somehow i know that it'll all turn up
you'll make me work so we can work to work it out
and i promise you, kid
i'll give so much more than i get
i just haven't met you yet

5 years ago i was obsessed with Michael Buble's "It's Time." it was my soundtrack for London and Spring 2005 in general.

between then and now, somehow i forgot how up-beat and sweet his music is. i'm putting him back in heavy rotation for a couple days.

MUST LOVE CAT

last night as i gave a friend some advice about his misadventures in online dating, i began to think about the online dating profile.

when it comes to finding your perfect match electronically, the profile is everything. it's more important than the first date or the first kiss. it is your first impression, and you get to make only one before a potential lover quickly decides whether to navigate away or to message you. because of its immeasurable impact, the online dating profile is very difficult and time-consuming to create.

we put out there on the internets these versions of ourselves that we think will be attractive, and not too terribly misleading, to the kind of people we want to meet. when joining a dating site, each of us becomes our own personal public relations agent. but if we were to be perfectly honest, i think our profiles would look a lot different.

for example, if i were looking for my future husband and putting no PR spin on my profile, it would probably start out with:

MUST LOVE CAT

kinda like that movie Must Love Dogs, which stars one of my faves, Diane Lane, but which somehow i've never seen. notice, however, that my profile would read not "Must Love CatS" but "Must Love Cat." only one cat: my cat. mon chat noir, for you Spanish-speakers out there.

if i find a guy who loves my asshole demon of a cat as much as i do, i will marry him and give him my ATM pin and even forgive horrible boyfriend sins like wearing shoes in the living room, or dropping minute crumbs on the sofa while i'm watching him eat, or throwing inside-out socks into the laundry. (an aside: i'm no laundry nazi, but socks have to be turned right-side-out eventually, and I'M usually the one who does it when i'm folding those clothes!!! just do it when you take them off, potential future boyfriend!! ). i don't know how any guy could resist me...

as i was saying, MUST LOVE CAT. my atticus is a dream; to the outside observer, however, he seems like a nightmare. maybe because if you're nice to him, he will bite you. alternatively, if you ignore him, he might bite you. and if you try to walk through a doorway while he's lying therein, or near there, he might bite you. he has back claws that he knows are extremely sharp, and he kicks like Chuck Norris. i'm currently healing from one of his very innocent kicks, the wound from which caused people at a party last week to question whether i'm a cutter. this looks so much better than it did two weeks ago:


my Atticus is moody, unpredictable, aggressive, and unlike any cat i've ever met. and i love him. he's the most beautiful thing i own, and i often laugh out loud at his ridiculousness. i don't care if he's crazy. he sleeps on my legs when it's cold, and he bites me through the blankets if i twitch. like a faithful lapdog, he always sits beside me when i read and when i blog. except he gives me the side eye every time i move or selfishly breathe too loudly, disrupting his nap:


basically, i think he's heaven, even when he acts like Satan. if only i could meet a man with a sense of humor who agrees.

and that's what my really honest dating profile might say. i can't help but wonder what kind of guy would respond positively to that.


actually... i probably don't want to find out.

egan says...

Rational arguments don't usually work on religious people. Otherwise, there wouldn't be religious people.

my hero, part III

i'm currently laughing my way through my hero Chelsea Handler's third book, Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang, making every attempt to read slowly and savor, but having a hard time putting it down.

Chelsea's books have brought so many laughs and laughter-induced tears into my life, and the lives of my friends who borrow my books.

as i approach Chapter 8, entitled "Dear Asshole," i'd like to look back and share a few favorite excerpts from earlier chapters. here's one that had me laughing but also amazed how similar Chelsea and i are. the people who know me well wouldn't be surprised that i totally relate to Chelsea's choice to spend a Saturday night drinking alone and crying over a movie. except my movie of choice would be Marley & Me:

My friend Sarah called me at around seven-thirty to ask me what time I wanted to go to our friend's barbecue. "Not happening," I told her. "Shit's really hit the fan over here big-time."

"Are you crying?"

"Yes. Have you seen Sex and the City?"

"Really, Chelsea?"

"Yes! Really! You were left at the altar, Sarah. Hello! Have some compassion for Sarah Jessica Parker!"

"So you're going to stay in bed on a Saturday night crying? Is that your game plan?"

"That's my plan, but it ain't no game, girl."

"Have fun. Call me tomorrow if we're all doing happy hour."

"I'll be there for happy hour." I hung up the phone.

My Bloody Mary from earlier had evaporated, so I went to make myself another one and was glad to see the sun had gone down. "Thank God."

As I was stirring my drink, I asked the Clamato juice container, "What is Clamato juice exactly? It sounds like a yeast infection."

"After reviewing the label and coming upon the words "clam juice," then spitting out my drink, I moved on to my next drink of choice when resting. A scotch neat with a splash of Crystal Light Hawaiian Punch.

Back in the bedroom, I pressed "play" on the remote, and in doing so felt like I was finally taking control of the situation. Now the girls were in Mexico, and Sarah Jessica Parker was listless and slept and didn't eat. Conversely, I was in Marina del Rey, in my bed, crying into my scotch. I wished Sarah Jessica Parker and I could be in bed together so I could roll over, brush her cheek, and assure her that everything would be okay.

i highly recommend her two previous books, My Horizontal Life and Are You There, Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea, as well. to read a hilarious bit from MHL, click here.

likely more to come from CCBB.

for old time's sake

the other day, completely out of the blue, came a pleasant e-mail from a long lost friend:

Subject: Was just...

Text: ...thinking about our first date and smiling. Hope all is well with you.

that's all. short and sweet. i hadn't seen or heard from him in so long. it was surprisingly nice to know he was thinking of me. i had to respond immediately. in typical short-but-never-very-sweet Matthew fashion, i replied:

How's that scar I left on you?

his response:

Still there. But it's an intimate reminder of you. Tell me again why we aren't married?

i didn't tell him again why we aren't married, but i admit that i took a moment to remind myself.

and i know he won't read this, because he doesn't read my blog, or know that i have a blog, or care about silly things like blogs, probably. this afternoon he's probably in his garage building a car engine from scraps, or feeding his neighbor's horses just because he enjoys the hard work.

but those are reasons why we should be married, which caused me to digress in my internal monologue reminder. because that's the type of guy with whom, in my mind, i'd be perfect. like the second time Carrie dated Aiden, and it was really quirky and fun and beautiful.

for that reason, i'll call him Aiden.

the first date, the one he was thinking about and smiling, was amazing, and i can take absolutely no credit for it. it was all his idea, from the rollerblading on an abandoned paved road, to driving the entire way to West Virginia to ride four-wheelers in the muddy forest. Aiden was kind enough to tell me beforehand to bring several changes of clothes, my rollerblades, shoes i could throw away, and swim trunks -- because once we were covered from head to toe in mud, and he was bleeding (oops, my bad!), we'd have to go swimming to wash off.

let me just point out that i didn't intend to run him over with my four-wheeler and put a terrible gash into his otherwise perfect, muscled torso. we were trying to get my ATV un-stuck from a fallen tree i had somehow run partly over, and instead of hitting the break when he said "hit the brake!," i hit the gas. it was an honest mistake, and he didn't even bleed that much, thanks to the mud. nature's tourniquet...

the swimming that followed was fun and refreshing. i weighed, like, 100 lbs back then so i didn't know yet what insecurity was. and he was nice to look at. dinner was great, and we had earned the 3000 calories of Italian food we ate. then a movie. then i conveniently felt too tired to drive back to my place. unfortunately, whether or not i was being honest about my inability to drive home, i actually was so tired after our marathon date that i fell asleep immediately upon crawling onto his bed. drat!

so why aren't we married, other than because it's illegal here?

well, Aiden was lovely-- IS lovely, i should say. i was young, though. although he was only a few years older, he was much more mature than me. he had no patience for my games or selfishness, which i would spend the next few years getting out of my system in a tumultuous on-again-off-again relationship with someone equally immature as me.

as i sit now and smile at the thought of that fantastic, bloody date, i can't help but think that if Aiden and i were to meet today, and have a totally fresh beginning, and live in the same area code, it all might end up very differently.

but no good can come of that kind of thinking, can it?

post(ing)secret(s)

a sense of entitlement

you know that first mental stage of a relationship, after meeting someone you like -- i call it a mental stage because, at that point, almost the entire relationship exists in your mind -- we've all experienced it a time or two hundred.

you think about him. you re-play meeting, or dancing, or a kiss. you have to tell yourself firmly not to text him (again). otherwise silly tween pop songs remind you of him (those are the only music appropriate for this first stage; make sure you have some on hand). you feel like you literally cannot wait to see him again. you know it's immature, and you either cannot help feeling it, or you simply don't care. you're never too old to have a -- yeah, i'm going to say it -- CRUSH.

you know exactly what i'm talking about. you've been there. and while you were, the one thought that was off limits to your mind is the realization that you barely even know this guy. reality is one of the farthest things from your mind during this first stage, and you know what? that's just grand. you deserve it.

for that matter, i deserve it.

i think each of us deserves it.

"it shouldn't be so hard," we've heard ourselves say. no, it shouldn't. but it probably will be at some point. that doesn't mean it is ever allowed to be so hard in the beginning. at the very least, you deserve a short period of time when it's easy and fun and just a little bit silly. it can get serious later, or it can amount to nothing, or if you're the luckiest (or craziest?) among us, you can revel in your crush for a long time before the love songs stop making your mind wander and the text messages stop making you smile. who cares what happens later (well, of course you do. enough to obsess over it. yeah, i see you.)? for now, enjoy the first stage.

i write this to serve as a reminder that you deserve it. i recently reminded a very good friend of her entitlement, and i thought it important enough to remind you as well. because we really do forget, don't we? we forget we're entitled to some simple happiness before we must face the long-term probabilities and the reasons to doubt. we forget that just because we're adults, that does not mean we have to settle for something less than romance. or butterflies. or whatever you want to call it.


i call it the first stage, because you deserve for it to precede every relationship and non-relationship that you have.

i could drink a case...

i remember that time you told me,
you said love is touching souls
surely you touched mine, 'cause
part of you pours out of me in these lines
from time to time

"you married each other!!? that's funny."

i just died from a cuteness overdose.

get a hobby!

you know what really grinds my gears? people who have a cause.

anyone demonstrating in public or holding signs or disrupting the peaceful hum of a bustling city street -- oh and people who try to hand me pamphlets or talk to me on the street, forcing me to do my typing-a-very-important-text-to-no-one performance instantly earn my most fervent ire.

today was a lovely day to wander around D.C., stroll around some awesome monuments, and sit on park benches in the sunshine. so i was particularly resentful of the protesters outside the White House who apparently think it's the 1950's.

are atomic bombs a threat right now? should we be practicing hiding underneath our desks? maybe. i don't know. correct me, please, if i'm ignorant of some important nuc-u-lar bomb related news. but of all the issues about which these bitches could've been voicing their concerns -- health care? defense spending? even gay marriage, which today became legal in this great District (!!!!) -- i don't see how bombs are a priority.

i'm just sayin'.

quote of the week, thus far

"Listen, if you're going to keep cooking and making these Martha Stewart recipes, you need to learn how to make them without butter."

-Shaunice, who agrees that we both need to stop eating so much in this house.

if you'd ever get to know me

going through my big cd case this morning, tracing my steps through more than a decade of music, i settled on Liz Phair (AKA Alicia Silverstone's look-alike) to provide the day's soundtrack.

god i was so obsessed with this cd.

live your way into the answer

I would like to beg you dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.

-Letters to a Young Poet



thanks to T. Toretti for the reminder. XOXOXO.

really? 30 years ago?

vintage Brooke Shields in The Blue Lagoon.


yes, i'm still in this 80's and 90's movies phase.

post(ing)secret(s)

ehrmann says...

“Be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the tress and stars. In the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul."

these days, life is neither noisy nor full of confusion. these days the noise and confusion are internal. so much to do/what should i do? so many options/are any of these options feasible? what will make me successful/what will make me happy?

so many questions, so few answers. you know, this isn't how my adult life has played out thus far. i'm a guy who likes plans and time-lines and flowcharts. and i'm a guy who traditionally has stuck to the plans laid.


time to get back on the grid, i guess. but first, i'll focus on the task - the test ? - of keeping peace in my soul. which would be so much easier if my Xanax sources hadn't dried up...

rule for life #84

B. Adams said it best when he sang, "Your lonely nights have just begun when you love someone."