Nothing lasts forever...

"... even cold December rain."  (Yeah, yeah, I'm taking liberties on the one GNR song that I actually, honestly, truly love with all my heart).  

The news called it a "Panhandle Hook."  I guess that means when you get lots of rain up from the Panhandle, although which panhandle they are talking about I'm not so sure (Oklahoma, Florida... are there any others?).  However, it is raining today and the white snow is melting away to expose a little green, lots of mud, and the smelly presents Lucky the Gimpy Lab has left for me to pick up around the yard.  This morning, I couldn't find the cat and left for work a little worried.  It seems like every time it gets a little warmer (and this is unusual for Ohio in December, albeit not unusual in its unusualness) he gives me the finger and runs away, leading to horrible visions of his furry mangled corpse on the side of Route 306.  

On top of all this, there is an odd goo exuding from my right ear today.

It was just one of those mornings that it was oddly warm and staying in bed was just not comfortable anymore... this rarely happens to me.  Lucky was already anxious to get up and get going (because he has such a busy day ahead of him licking his crotch).  So with a "ho hum" I got up and checked the roads outside and headed downstairs to begin another day in grayness.

Last night, I thought about a lot of things.  I've finally worn myself out worrying about what John's doing or what the hell went wrong with PVille guy.  There is quiet in my head.  That wrenching feeling is no longer in control of my gut and heart.  Now is the time for me, was the conclusion I came to.  I want that apartment in Boston.  I want that job, whatever it may be.  I want the life I've wanted since I was ten and the only way of getting that is saying, ahem, "FUCK OFF" to those who stand in my way by way of distraction or lessening my worth. 

It may be cloudy outside, but my thoughts have never been clearer.

Side note: at this moment, I am on hold with a client and the hold music is a lovely muzak version of "Fools Rush In" which is one of my favorite Elvis Presley songs.  

Welcome to my nightmare.

It's November in Ohio.

FAQ.

Here are some of the answers to questions I've been getting since the inaugural post of this blog.  

Q:  Why are you such a dork? (truth be told, this one is from my own sister)

A:  If the fact that I read real books and publications that are not chick lit or Cosmo makes me a dork, so be it.  Unfortunately I live in a state where the stereotype of beautiful women needing to be seen and not heard (while ugly women are forced to work in the bookstore/library/become 8th grade Algebra teachers) is perpetuated.  I do like to read.  I do like to see independent film.  I do not watch Fox News.  And yes, I enjoy the SciFi channel and horror movies.  And according to the people of this state, that makes me a dork/nerd/shrew/troll.

Q:  What the hell is John's deal?  What attracted you to him in the first place?

A:  John's "deal" is that he is a spoiled brat who doesn't like it when the women in his life (mom, sister, friend, ex-girlfriend) tell him he is an idiot.  He's insecure and hides it with the bravado usually reserved for hip-hop stars like Jay-Z.  That being said, he is a sweet lost little boy inside and he is very cute.  And he actually does like to learn new things and talk and try to help people whether they asked for his advice or not.  I don't know, he's kind of just like a mole that you get so used to you forget that it could be cancerous.  

Q: What is your religious affiliation?  I see you say you are an 'agnostic leaning towards atheism' on Facebook?

A:  Agnostic and always, always questioning everything.  Even when I was little.  I don't like to align myself with organized religion and I feel very suffocated inside a church (I subscribe to the theory that if there is a G-O-D he would rather be appreciated amongst his own creations rather than in a kiss-ass piece of architecture).  

Q:  Really, though, why are you so weird? (again from Lisa, my sister)

A:  I am not weird.  I'm eccentric and quirky and adorable.

Q:  So are you like some troll with no life in her parents' basement in her pajamas typing mean gossip on your blog?

A:  Actually, I think I am pretty attractive if I do say so myself.  Do I have a life?  That's debatable.  I go out and enjoy myself but I'm not a party girl (anymore).  There really isn't that much to do around here, though. Parents' basement?  Our basement is a scary, scary thing that I would imagine houses a crazy cannibal.  I stay in my area, he stays in his, and there are no problems.  As for my parents... well, having been divorced for many many years you can guess that they do not have a house together anymore. 

Q: Do you really have a job?

A: OF course I do.  Otherwise I wouldn't have this blog to keep me busy while I'm at it!

Q: You make it sound like Ohio is so isolated and backward.  Where do you live, exactly?

A:  I live in a lovely little town called Chesterland and it is in Geauga County.  This is the county immediately east of Cuyahoga County, where Cleveland is located and I spent a good portion of my life going to school.  Geauga County is mostly rural and includes small towns (like Chardon) as well as vast expanses of farm land (Amish country in Middlefield).  Most of Ohio is actually rural expanse like Geauga County.  What makes it interesting is the stark contrast in (this is why it is such a hotly contended for Battleground State) the inner-city populations of Cincinnati, Cleveland, and kind of Columbus (Columbus is actually a microcosm of its own with Ohio State).  We got it all here: backwards religious conservatives, mormons (Kirtland), rednecks, large Jewish populations, large Slavic and Russian populations, large African American populations, large Hispanic populations, young liberal college-educated elites, wealthy old money, wealthy new money, poverty, a booming crack-cocaine market, poor educational system, a failing industrial sector, a dirty polluted river that caught on fire, racial tension, and the ghosts of 4 dead college students from 1970.  And Lebron James.  It's pretty much a hodge-podge of political issues.  I love Ohio.

Q:  Why do you continue to give PVille guy the time of day? (this coming from a friend- actually all my friends)

A:  Because it is my gift and my curse to always see the good in people.  Even those that continue to walk on me and/or spew hate my way.   I think he is a really good guy and I think that he deserves better than what he has arguably accepted as his fate.  That being said, I do have my dignity and this blog and many, many of you making sure that I don't lose myself in this whole ordeal.  

Q: Do you have pets?

A: I do.  Oh, you want to know what kind?  I have a British bi-color blue named Sir Thomas of Chestershire (TomCat or TC for short).  He has six toes on each paw, which I guess is a breed standard.  He was a barn cat that my mother took in.  He has since become very accustomed to the indoor life.  And I have a lab named Lucky.  Well, lab/pit mix.  I saved him from a shelter. He has a gimp leg from a hit and run incident and abandonment issues.  He may or may not be mentally retarded as well.  He's 2 1/2.  They are my faithful companions and provide me with daily entertainment.  

Q: You need to do something with your life. (this one is from my ever-loving Dad who now resides in Scottsdale, AZ but was born in the projects in Boston).

A: That wasn't exactly a question as much of a statement.  Yes, I know I need to do something with my life.  In five years, I see myself doing exactly that: something. 

Ok, well if anyone wants to know anything else about me, you can email: carlyrowe@gmail.com or post your question in the comments.  

Whirling Dervish.

So, I just thought that I would explain the concept behind Whirlyball since I mentioned it in my post from yesterday. I'm not sure how many there are nationally, but I do know that WhirlyBall is an up and coming "indoor sport" in the midwest (we have six months of winter here, what do you expect?). Specifically, Chicago and Cleveland. If you go to an official website, they basically introduce it like this:

"Agility. Speed. Strength. None of these qualities will be of any use in the highly competitive world of WhilrlyBall. Although it combines lacrosse, hockey and basketball with bumper cars, WhirlyBall has caused great athletes of every stripe to laugh and holler their way to a crushing defeat." (Basically, if you are just another average midwesterner (read: morbidly obese and otherwise uncoordinated), you finally get to even the playing field with all those athletic types).

WhirlyBall combines bumper cars with lacrosse, basketball, little bit of hockey, and soccer. You have a scoop and a whiffle ball and the goal is to either hit the backboard of the same color as your car (2 pts) or get it in the net (4 pts). Pretty easy, right? WRONG. This game is HARD. Not only do you have to figure out how to maneuver your car (which has a one hand steering device, wheel), you have to be able to catch the ball and get it down the court. You can only hold it for 20 seconds so passing becomes another obstacle. Any penalties in delay of game or fouling cost 4 points to the other team. (See demonstration by Death Cab above).

So on Sunday, I joined some friends from work and their families to play this raucous game. I had seen it before- an old boyfriend of my mother's was on a league when I was probably 13 or 14. I figured I could do this. I didn't have to run (which I hate), I just had to steer (which I can do with my car... how hard could this be?). Considering most of the 13 minute game I was trying to figure out how to back up as I got stuck in a corner and then when I finally had the ball, I couldn't get out before my twenty seconds... I'm gonna go ahead and say that I sucked.

So that's why I thought laser tag would be more fun. I had played before... it used to be a hot spot for the stoners and the bad kids during high school and I made my appearance a few times. Of course, this was like 10 years ago. So I suited up with 15 other people, about 8 of them under 10. Not only did I get my ass kicked, I got shot down by a 5 year old. He was insane! Every time I thought I had a good place to hide, my vest would light up. Who was this phantom assassin? It took me about 8 minutes to realize I was getting shot up from below by a misleadingly innocent operative, code name: Lucca. And he wasn't all stealthy, either, like James Bond or Ethan Hunt. No, Lucca used more of a Scarface method (pretty much running forward with his finger on the trigger, laughing maniacally as he mowed down rival gang members). I came to the conclusion that there is definitely a problem with our kids being exposed to too much violence.

It wasn't until I saw the results and realized that I had shot none and been shot 48 times that I thought about sticking to tennis if I wanted an indoor sport. At least on that court I get to be the crazy one.