Rooftop Sunrise

Every January there is a rush that fills the general population. The local gyms are crowded, there are a few less hipsters smoking outside coffee shops and I find myself spending a little more quality time in front of a blank word document. The New Year is a pensive and empowering time that begs the question: what will stay and what will go. Even with the most likely outcome of things disappearing and reappearing mid-February, its an important time for self reflection.

Around midnight last night I decided to continue my self reflection with a full season of How I Met Your Mother. This may not be the most anticipated facet of my New Year goals, but it did lead me to this moment as the sun is rising. I shimmied myself, my laptop, my quilt, and my cup of tea up the ladder to my roof (don't ask me how, its some miracle of Quantum Physics) and am sitting with the sunrising typing this blog with Ted Mosby's voice narrating my thoughts. It may not be the most productive moment of my self reflection, but it is specific. I think I'd like a few more specific moments this year and that in a nut shell is my New Year's Resolution.

My 2011 List

Happy New Year! Time to sum up my 2011 in a list of my favorite things from 2011:

- I released my album "Put Up Your Dukes"

- I played a super fun Cd release show

- I had lunch at Club 33 in Disneyland

- I spent a month in Florence, Italy

- I went to Cinque Terre, Pisa, Lucca, San Giamangiano, Venice, and Rome

- I jumped on the back of a vespa driven by an Italian stranger

- I went busking on the Spanish Steps in Rome

- I danced in the middle of an onlooking crowd to gypsy music played in a Piazza

- I learned conversational Italian

- I ate at my family's restaurant Cafe Cecere in Rome

- I saw the sistine chapel ceiling

- I threw a coin in the trevi fountain

- I moved back to Fullerton into an apartment that makes me happy and doesn't feel like a cave

- I got another couple semesters at Cal State Fullerton under my belt

- I brewed my first beer

- I got a kitty and named her Princess Mia Saberhagen, thus cramming two nerdy fictional cat references into one name

- I went skydiving.

Of my last year's new year's resolutions, there are many grey areas in which I arguable made some progress, but the following I can confidently say I accomplished:

-I went to Europe

-I wrote some more songs

-I played some more gigs

Gig at The Night Owl

I'll be playing at 9:00pm on Tuesday, January 3rd at The Night Owl. It is a new coffee shop in Fullerton on the corner of Harbor Blvd and Amerige Ave. Come check it out :-)

Barbie

When I was a little girl, Barbie was the biggest deal in the world. I loved her. Nothing was more exciting on Christmas morning than unwrapping a corner of a present and being greeted by a bright pink corner of a Barbie box. I could never have enough. There was even a transition period in my life when my friends had all outgrown Barbie and I still played with her in secret. I had a walk-in closet in my bedroom that served as a Barbie fort: lined with Barbie dream homes, outfits, and, of course, Barbies in the flesh… err… plastic. I was literally a closeted Barbie lover. I could only play in the closet, but still my love of Barbie flourished, and her numbers grew. By the time I actually "outgrew" Barbie, I had a formidable army of tiny, busty, fashionable, blonde power women at my disposal.

I was considerably older when I first started hearing some of the accusations that were raised against Barbie. She was deemed unrealistic and therefore an inappropriate role model for little girls. This scandalized me. Aside from the obvious "No fricking duh, she is a doll" retort I hold at the ready for these Barbie haters, I also can't help but feel judged. I, after all, am a blue-eyed blonde girl with boobs unproportionatly large for her frame. I know that sounds like a punchline, but it isn't. I never considered Barbie and my common ground to be rooted in sex appeal. It was always nice to see a successful Doctor-Vet-Horse Back Rider-Mermaid-Fairie-Princess-Model-Librarian-Pink Car Enthusiast who looked like me. Furthermore, regardless of how she looks, it is important for little girls to see a woman who can be anything!

It was with these loving thoughts that this Christmas I was happy to give my niece her very first Barbie. I went a little nuts with her stack of presents. She had to have a Barbie, a Theresa (Barbie's friend who looks like my niece), an assortment of career women outfits, and the traditional Auntie-Becky-is-a-square-who-gives-kids-books Book.

By the time I went shopping, the only individual Barbies left were Beach Barbie. I confess, I passed some judgment on Beach Barbie. Sure, she was fine for paling in the pool, but for my niece's first Barbie? No way! She needed to see Barbie in her element, dripping in success.

It was with that hope in my heart that I carefully extricated Beach Barbie, put some clothes on her and re-packaged her. My niece recently informed me of her ambition to become an "Animal Rescuer" so her first Barbie was carefully clad in kaki and holding a baby tiger she presumably rescued. Welcome to the Barbie club, Kid. Chicks Rule!

The Night Owl

There is a new coffee shop in Fullerton that I am currently testing for inspire-ability. I have made a habit of writing in coffee shops and the Fullerton Starbucks just hasn't been doing it for me lately. It is not totally its fault, but the fault of these three old bittys that moved into my squashy chaired haven. Usually I get along quite well with the local old people and crazies, but these three just don't get me. They find my smile very offensive and my offer to trade chairs so they can sit next to one another damn near threatening to bomb the place. This open hostility has made it very difficult for me to find my writing zen.

There is another coffee shop in Fullerton called McClain's that I love, but they are cash only and I've almost forgotten what cash looks like.

The Night Owl is a comfortable little space filled with squashy chairs, little tables and pretty orange lighting. A girl is hammering her guitar in the corner. I am contemplating my move to occupy that location sometime soon. All in all, it is a very charming little place that is allowing all my Congested blogs that I have put on the back-burner to flow out.

The creative atmosphere paired with the pleasant chat with the blue haired charmer working the register made this trip totally worth it.

My Dad and his Christmas Lights

As a college student, December is a blur. you've barely finished digesting Thanksgiving dinner, then you're on to cramming for finals, finishing up end of semester projects, cramming for finals, putting up Christmas decorations, cramming for finals, shopping for presents, cramming for finals, and did I mention cramming for finals? It can make a girl miss the whole spirit of the season.

For me, however, there is one activity that can provide all the joy, laughter and nostalgia that the holidays should bring. This, of course, is the annual: My mom makes my dad put up Christmas lights.

My dad is a sweet, easy going person who bends over backward to make everyone happy, particularly my mom. My dad reserves this one day of the year, however, to become a grumbling old kill joy, which tickles me to pieces.

Every year he shimmies up the ladder and puts up the Christmas magic with a frown on his face and a grumble in his heart. He is the Grinch-y, Scrooge-y, Humbug that everyone loves until it is all over and my mom is smiling at the house all lit up. His frost melts and he is back to my same old dad.

Timeless Battle

Dear Brain,

Do you mind? I'm kinda trying to do my thing here...

Love,

Heart