no one does it like me.

the winter of 2009 was very cold and frigid. dark and bleak. the icicles that hung from the roof of my third floor porch roof pierced past the length of my story, cascading down to the 2nd floor, a story beyond my view. it averaged 0 degrees,  or below, on a regular basis. january 2010, was particularly dicomforting.

it was a rough winter, and what i thought would transpire into an even tougher year - but i was wrong. in retrospect, it was one of the most crucial and turning point years in my life to date. i had just exited the only real relationship i had known, and had very few friends. after the winter of frozen hearts, i eventually met my friends and found myself. and the first year at 4953 north oakley, i lived with one of my closest lifelong girlfriends- and while we took turns sobbing in our bedrooms and nursing heartaches with pbr, i'm going to her wedding next weekend and i've been married for nearly 2 years, so the sloppy lovedrunks we were, really had no idea. (how good we had it bad. at least we had one another).

one night, it was particularly freezing. (literally). 32 degrees below zero. it was mid january, and i had tickets to see department of eagles at schuba's in exchange for a review. being in love with grizzly bear at the time, i was on the fence - do i freeze my ass off to go to a show? or more difficult - do i freeze my ass off to go to a show by myself? keep in mind i had all but 2 friends in the city of chicago at the time, and their musical palette hardly mirrored my own. going to a show solo was a new concept of mine.

but against the odds, i suited up and i trudged the freezing hell to southport and back and made the show. it was magic. the performance was fine, but the independence and gratification i got of doing something independently and outside of my comfort zone was so much more than a hipster concert. it was the transitioning of who i have become today.

it's been nearly 4 years since that terrible winter. i listened to a lot of (ok, way too much of) kanye west's 808s and heartbreaks. heartless? yeah, sorry courtney, that shit was on repeat. and the shout out louds' 'very loud'? that too, for some reason induced the sobbing.

now i can listen to both and laugh it off. dept of eagles' 'no one does it like you?' just makes me feel strong. a minor action in a larger scheme. i'll never forget that freezing commute home. lonely as i may have been, i finally found comfort in myself.

this used to be my jam.

your girlfriend is really beautiful. do you know she's a bird?

livin la vida old lady.

it is fall now. getting darker earlier every day. all i want to do is sleep, every minute, every day. i think i am a polar bear and just want to hibernate. instead, i go to work. and sometimes, meet friends. like this particular evening where i met a girlfriend for a hamburger. 6pm at the grafton, the sun was still flirting in the lincoln square sky. 7:15 pm departure, and it is dark. flannel weather. warm, baggy clothes. energy rapidly depleting, i anxiously await my evening routine of cat cuddles and this comfy, big bed. tonight, this is my date. lyle loves his 'gossip rags'. i don't know what a duck dynasty is, but lyle is mesmerized. he won't even let me read this. that's ok, i just want to nuzzle his big boy belly anyway, and sing along to girly songs until i fall asleep at my 8:30 bedtime.

is this 30? or is this fall? something in the air tonite. i wish i was a cat sometimes. they get to sleep all day and never need to feel guilty about it. everyone loves them (unless they suck and are going to hell). they don't have to pay bills. and endless cuddles. not to mention free subscriptions to tabloids.

friends forever.

this song has been in my head allll day. but i still totally hate the lead singer of this group.

i told you from the start, just how this would end.

courtney love pre-plastic surgery was the best. 1994 forever.

jam of the day.

private eye(s).

hall & oates + alkaline trio in one blog post? i must be drugged up. (i am).

legally, of course. i'd never wanna break the law or anything like that.

this is the first afternoon i've had off from work with the exception of early release or trips to external meetings.i'm home, at bed, eating an icecream treat in my undergarments, listening to ridiculous music with a halfway molesty/halfway marble brained creepster named lyle. it's ok though, he's a cat.

i probably shouldn't be blogging, let alone youtubing videos from my past, as my doctor told me to go home and sleep until dinner - but fuck that, i'm not wasting my time off from a crazy work week to sleep. i'll sleep when i'm dead. (or later tonite, at 10pm on the nose).

but yeah, lasik man. had round 2 today. that was a trip. for some reason, i forgot about how fucking insane the procedure was until i relived it today. i blame it on my nerves of steel i had last year, given i had to undergo a double lumptectomy on both breasts to remove potential cancerous masses. that operation seemed much more scary than having some 2001 space odyssey noise zapped in my eyeballs.

today wasn't scary, per say. but totally bizarre and surreal.. maybe it was because i spent my morning at the state building, discussing policies for state wide healthcare legislation. and then, had to rush down the street for a quick zap. whatever. i'm totally out of it right now. i feel like a cliche stoner type from a john hughes film. or like, sean penn from that fast times movie (that i've never seen).

i go into the office, and it's pristine as heck. after i get slipped some vallium i get some crazy light show eye tests completed. then, because they incised flaps in my cornea last year, i was fortunately relieved of the procedure again, and they instead just numbed my eyeball up, shined a hella bright blinding white light on my eyeball, and proceeded to poke at it with some sort of tiny crochet hook. i couldnt feel pain, persay, but i def felt pressure, and saw a metal device coming at my eyeball. then they lifted they somehow re-opened the flap for me, and shit got jerry garcia weird and swirly.

after that, i moved into some crazy ass equipment room with 'DANGER' signs on the door, alerting all to beware of the lazers inside, especially those with pacemakers.

cool.

they scotch taped a makeshift paper pirate eye patch on my left eye since they only operated on my right. they then put some sort of weird ass sheet on my right eye, all the time i'm completely reclined in some sort of dentist chair with the blood slowly rushing to my head. next came the clock work orange aparatus to make sure i couldn't blink, all the while drowing my eye ball with drops. meanwhile, my mascara is making me resemble a less unstable courtney love. (i blame the business clothes).

they placed me under the lazer, and keep in mind, my cornea flap is still folded back so shit is blurry as hell. the lazer's making all these loud ass clicks and bangs, but i'm so subdued on pills that i dont even care. just laying there like a slug. 'don't move your eye,' they say, 'the lazer is coming now,' while some dude is reciting transcriptions along '16 seconds, 1.4 meters, sassana,'. i guess it only took 16 seconds? i wouldn't have even noticed had the BURNING smell not invaded my nostrils. so wait, i'm thinking to myself, is this normal? why does it smell like a combination of burning hair, flesh and mushrooms? OH, THAT MUST BE THE LAZER EATING MY EYEBALL. that's cool. they slapped a contact on that badboy, made a follow up appointment for tomorrow afternoon, and sent me on my way.

regardless of the sci-fi bizarreness of it all, shit was over and done withing 15 minutes. luckily, my father in law was kind enough to give me a lift home, and here i am not an hour later, with dried sticky icecream fingers, cuddling a creeper cat. the weird thing is, i can already see decent out of my eye. i'm rocking my fake pair of vanity glasses in lieu of sporting the horace grant goggles i'm supposed to wear. this is prob the only legit excuse i'll ever have to wear these since i'm obviously a poser and got eye correction surgery so i wouldnt have to wear glasses, but whatevs.

i wanna eat icecream in bed all goddamn day.

surgery rules.

heart.beats - chipped fingernail polish

i don't know a single female that hasn't felt unsettled with herself at one time or another. fiona has a flare for the dramatic, for sure, but she's one fine lyricist.

'i just want to feel everything.'

careful what you wish for, dear.

heart.beats - razor blades.

it will never be fast enough. or loud enough. the ugliness shines within. the blades, piercing just below the bodily surface. approaching the girl's invisible knuckles - almost like her x-men superpower. you piss her off boy, and you just wait. the inner solace has been disturbed - and it's not anything that should ever be spoken or demonstrated.

the dreams haunt her. the lingering nightmares of the dark, curved stairwell. twisting and creaking into unknown territories. no real descriptors will serve the lairs justice - only that they exist, unseen, in another time and place. the immediate punch to the senses of endless dread and sadness. the knowing that whatever it is, doesn't permit survivors. it will plague him or her, for the rest of their being. like a leech in a swamp. it will suck you dry. the red velvet curtains that surround the guest room Jacuzzi are heavier than they appear. and if you dare attempt to toe in for a dip, the whirlpool will bubble like it should, water may be a tad more lukewarm than expected - but you will notice a change before you exit.

the night terrors will grip you. and only sometimes do they free you. which is why the girl embraces the blades beneath her skin. and doesn't tell a soul.

heart.beats -lonerisms.

i've never had a drug problem. i've boozed, sure, maybe even more than is 'normal' or healthy. sure i've swigged a bottle of wine in a battle of heartache at one time or another as well. these days i'm pretty good at regulating, but then again, i'm 30. and married. so i'm not really depressed or manic anymore, thank god.

something about revisiting this track though, there seems to be more to it than conor crying about some damaged girl and their vice for 'medication.' the simple strums of the acoustic guitar and the echoed, raw shaky vocals. he could be crooning about anything and it has to tug a little bit at the average listener. here, he happens to be fully admitting his likelihood to abandon his counterpart. and confesses that he's lonely.

'when everything is lonely i can be my own best friend.'

it's admirable, almost, in a sad way. i've certainly been in those shoes. while it's a good feeling to know you're capable of taking care of yourself, everyone gets lonely.

and if you switch up the context and remove the drugs, the inability to commit and be that 'man' or 'woman' everyone else says we should aspire to be, there's yet another layer immersed in the conclusion of this sad ass sap song.

'Cause what is simple in the moonlight, by the morning never is /
What's so simple in the moonlight, now is so complicated '

i think that there is an analogy on life. nothing really is what meets the eye. we can only hope and believe in what we cannot see - and with the effort to push through the obstacles, we can find what it is we're finally looking for.

heart.beats - suburban rights.

words have been milling in my head for some days, weeks now. somehow i'm convinced that my inner subconscious, recurring nightmares, trek back home and everything is somehow united. linked, somehow. to tell me something.

or maybe not. maybe i'm just at a turn, where my creativity is secretly trying to creep its way back into my veins after an unintentional hiatus. that would be nice.

so i listen to songs. a lot. to work, at work, from work. on walks. on jogs. sometimes i hear music in my head when i'm not even listening to anything. this song, here. it's got a sort of untouchable, haunting melody. the suburbs failed to have the impact that funeral, arcade fire's debut had on me. neon bible was take it or leave it as well. but the point in me beginning to post videos with text is not necessarily an exercise of music criticism, although i may dabble in a review or personal experience if the writing bug seems to be so inclined. rather, i thought of a concept of playing a video or song. something that evokes emotions or memories - real or conceptualized as a feeling in my mind. anything that can get me writing about it.

i didn't grow up in the suburbs. quite far from it. rather, anyone who knows me can attest that i escaped a rather closed rural community. 800 villagers. pretty happy i got out, too. but something about this song tugs at my inner being - of the vulnerability of fleeting childhood.

'so move your feet from hot pavement into the grass. cause it's already past, it's already past.'

funny how fast one thing can evolve into another entirely. you blink, and everything's already changed. that fast.

'in my dreams, we're still screaming.'

me, too.

a song for another (rainy) day.

this song takes me back. to many different days. but nine times out of ten when i get a jonesin' to listen to the cure, it's grey and gloomy. i'm not gloomy, persay, this afternoon, but it's definitely a wet and dismal rainy afternoon. i should be elated - an early release from the j-o-b, extra last minute time snuck in to get those toiletries packed, and i'm to be jetting out of the city in t-minus two hours. going home. nostalgic. it's still hard for me to realize that i average a trek back to my roots only on average of one time per year. i see my mom more than that, thanks to my brother, of course, but still. argyle. i grew up there. i learned things the hard way. a lot of experiences, both dreamt up in bored daydreams, and some hardknocks learned the rough way.

this will be good for me. i can sort out my head. it's been too long since we've taken a real vacation. even this is a transitional quick weekend trip, vs. a tropical getthefuckoutofchicago extravaganza.

sort of like dunking oneself on a hot summer day, life can be cold and nasty sometimes. a little uncomfortable and trying. but once you dunk underwater - refresh, renew, repeat.

hopefully some good old fashioned scrabble, cheese, beer, old friends, family and walks in the starlight will be just what the doctor ordered.  til then, play on mr. smith. i will share your angst for past, forgotten and rejected loves. (especially callie, r.i.p). although forgive me if your eyeliner rivals mine and i have a partner to hold my hand.

this song.

destination unknown.

holy shit. so it appears I haven't written anything on here in a whole year. good god. I turned into yuppie scum! I don't know how well tthis will go, but I've got some free time and i'm just caffeinated enough to give the ole clicker clacker of my laptop a run.

a lot can happen in a year. simultaneously, a lot of nothing can happen too. in the past year, I survived both lasik eye surgery and a scare of potential breast cancer. I adopted a 3rd cat because, yes, I am that insane. I got back into running and successfully lost and have kept off 15 pounds. I got a new job, even better than the last before and work for a pretty damn good company/team. health care technology, now I can honestly say that's an area I never dreamed of venturing, but month 6 on the job and so far so good. moved back to my original Chicago hood, Lincoln square last October, this summer marks my 7th anniversary as a fib so I think it's safe to say i'm more Chicago than wisco  - maybe? maybe. I turned 30. that was cool. (actually, I'm kind of in love with it).

self reflection of the last year and the next has led me to allowing myself to act recklessly for one final summer. this is very likely my last summer where i'll permit myself and the better half to drink like we're 21 and throw money around on tacos and wheat beers like there's no tomorrow, so i'm making the most of it. today is august 3rd, so I guess that gives me a month or two left until it's time to convert to the married 30 something journey of parenthood. holycrap, right?

it's funny, though. my priorities are a bit non-traditional. like, I need to binge drink at a wedding in October in Michigan. a bachelorette party the 16th. and last but not least, riot fest. I swore earlier this year I was retiring from music festivals. too much money, noise, asshole kids. i'd rather buy a record and drink high quality booze in the comfort of my own home. but then the organizers at riot fest just had to go and get both THE REPLACEMENTS AND THE PIXIES on the same fucking bill. same weekend. same day. 19 year old Jodi is peeing herself with joy, counting down the days. the fact that slamming a hotdog, an overpriced Heineken, and then a barf inducing ride on a tilt a whirl, all while jamming to Andrew wk or RANCID is soon to be a reality is mind numbing. warped tour for adults. oh man oh man oh man.

I used to use this blog as an outlet to ramble about what new music i'm freaking over. in all honesty, i'm kind of over new shit. i'm officially one of those old boring losers who's obsessed with music from 'back in my day,' which, in my instance happens to be the 90s. there's all the great grunge, terrible dance music, sweet sweet r&b, cringeworthy chart toppers. it's all so damn delectable. all my favorite artists these days have a tendency to crank out crap that will never live up to its predecessor, so I kinda gave up. (i.e. yeah yeah yeahs - mosquito? smack forehead). I will say that both dessa and mikal Cronin put out decent albums this year, neither of which I expected. otherwise, the best purchase musically I've made this summer is a tie between beastie boys' hello nasty on vinyl and (gulp), katy perry random hits for my runs in the river park. what can I say? i'm a fucking sucker.

but back to the 90s. and booze.

it's funny how anything can seem like a really excellent idea with enough liquid encouragement. I was absolutely convinced last Saturday night when my husband and I dented a handful of sixers and popped open the glenlivet I was hoarding for a rainy day, that my destination in life was to be a 90s dj. not really like how I used to spin at chirp, but like, balls out, bad 90s jams.

my drunken self thought it would be excellent to stream hours worth of terrible and some so terrible they're amazing jams on youtube, all while recording my smackmeintheheadwhydidirememberthis song set list on word, which I've copied/pasted below, for all you to judge.

you can thank me later for getting jesus jones stuck in your head on repeat later.

sooooo bad. and yes, it ultimately transitioned to katy perry. just because i'm so cool.

Live – all over you

Prodigy – breathe
Silverchair- tomorrow
Us – mysterious ways
Jesus jones – right here right now
Paula cole – where have all the cowboys gone
Blink 182 – whats my age again
Freak nasty – da dip
En vogue – free your mind
Green Day – When I come around
Fat Boy Slim – Praise You
Ini kamoze – here comes the hotstepper
Mark Morrison – Return of the Mack
Luniz – Got 5 on It
Fu-schnickens ft. Shaquille o’neal – what’s up doc (Can we rock)
K-Ci & JoJo – All My Life
KWS – please don’t go
Emf – unbelievable
Tom Cochrane – life is a highway
Sugar Ray – Fly
Soul for real – candy rain
Culture beat – mr. vain
Cypress hill – insane in the membrane
The s.o.u.l s.y.s.t.e.m – lovely day (body guard soundtrack)
K7 – come  baby come
Cake – the distance
The heights – how do you talk to an angel
Lucas – lucas with the lid off
Tony toni tone – feels good
Bobby Brown – humpin around
Salt n pepa – none of your business
Ghost town dj’s  - my boo
Everlast – what its like
Lit – My Own Worst Enemy
Reel big fish – sell out
Harvey danger – flagpole sitta
Tripping daisy – I got a girl
Swv – im’ so into you
Tlc – no scrubs
Shawn mullins – lullaby
Bone thugs n harmony – ghetto cowboy
Seven marythree – cumbersome
Real mccoy – run away
Master p – make em say ugh
Imani copola –legend of a cowgirl
Rancid – ruby soho
Bush – swallowed
Red hot chili peppers – give it awy
Eve 6 – inside out
Mc hammer – 2 legit 2 quit
Cc music factory – things that make you go hmm
Foo fighters –everlong
Warren g – regulate
Rob zombie – dragula
Orgy – blue Monday
Katy perry