I am Head Over Heels

I bought the Shout: The Very Best of Tears for Fears album five years ago, about the time Jason bought his pickup. Of course Jason takes my disk and I have been without for years. After I bought my new car, I decided to reunite with my long, lost Tears for Fears album. I am so glad.

The song I have on repeat: Head over Heels. I CANNOT get enough of this song. It's not just the electric keyboard and that '80s sound. I love that the singer (Roland Orzabal) wants to be alone with his love interest to talk about anything, even the weather. Just lovely.

In my obsession, I also decided to watch the music video. It is HILARIOUS. A chimp, an exploding card catalog and an electric keyboard solo by a Dave Coulier look alike. It doesn't get much better than that.

Romeo, Oh "Romeo"?

I have been married for seven years and can hardly remember what it was like to date. Hmmm. I think that was back in the Bronze Age. Anyway, when I was single I had no fear asking a guy out on a date. Let's see. I asked a guy out in the library. I asked another guy in a club. Really, I could on and on, but I don't want you to think I'm a hussy. (Am I too late?)

I lied. I don't care if you think I'm a hussy because I REALLY want to tell you about one particular date. When I was a freshman in college, a group of girls and I went to Chili's for dinner. Chili's - baby back ribs - Chili's baby back ribs - with barbeque sauce! Sorry. I digress. But who thinks about Chili's without thinking of their baby back ribs jingle? Back to the story.

After being seated by the hostess, our server came over to take our drink order. HELLO, GORGEOUS! Let me give you a visual. Romeo (that's what I'll call him because I can't remember his name - don't judge me) was about 6', well built but not overly muscle-y and with just the right amount of tan. He had dark hair and looked like he might have been Italian. He was beautiful. And charming. And his eyes... Sigh.

I was a bit distracted at dinner. We all were. We ate. We giggled about Romeo. Then we left. The end.

Actually, not the end. But I wish it were the end.

We did leave the restaurant but I hated myself for not asking him out. I talked about it and talked about it until the girls were sick of hearing it and told me to just do it. So I called Chili's to ask him out via phone (not cell phone because back in the Bronze Age they were expensive and about the size of shoe boxes). The hostess answered. I told her the situation and she went and put Romeo on the phone.

Me - "Hi, Romeo. I know you probably don't remember me, but you waited on a large group of girls tonight. I wanted to ask you out during dinner but chickened out. Kinda regret that. Anyway, I know this sounds crazy, but would you like to meet me in a well-lit public area?"
Romeo - "Wow. I am totally flattered. Sure."
Me - "Really?"
Romeo - "Sure. Let's meet back here at Chili's next Friday at seven?"
Me - "Great. Here's my number if you want to call me. See ya!"
Romeo - "See ya."
Me - YES!

His ease in saying yes should have been a hint. Really, what sane man would ever say yes to that? I asked him out like a crazy person. I know what you're thinking. My poor husband married a crazy person. I think so too.

Romeo called me a couple of days later and we had a great conversation. We talked for hours and I was really getting excited about our date. He went to another college across town and was just a couple of years older than me. He was funny and seemed really nice. Oh. And I also remembered something about him being stunning.

Friday rolled around. I fixed my hair for hours, then tried on 20 different outfits and labored over my makeup. Ready or not, Romeo, here I come.

I arrived at Chili's. 7:00 on the dot. My heart was pounding. What if he doesn't like me? What if I'm not his type? What if we don't really mesh face-to-face? I gathered my nerves and headed to the door. All of a sudden I hear someone call my name from behind me.

Romeo - "Vicky?"
Me - I turn around.
Romeo - "Hey, it's me. Romeo."
Me - "Um. Nice to meet you Romeo."

Oh. My. Gosh. Wrong guy. You read right. Romeo is THE WRONG GUY. Let me give you a visual. This guy was blonde and pale. He's cute. But he was not THE Romeo.

We went inside and the hostess was beaming at "Romeo." After we were seated the REAL Romeo came and took our drink order. ARGH! In my head I was thinking, "Hey! Real Romeo! You are the one that I want!"

I made polite banter with "Romeo" and begrudgingly continued on with the date, hiding my disappointment. To make things even more awkward, "Romeo" was pissed because Real Romeo flirted with me throughout dinner. "Hey! Real Romeo! You are the one that I want!"

FINALLY. Real Romeo gave "Romeo" the check and the torture was nearly over. Then "Romeo" laid a whammy on me.

"Romeo" - "Hey, Vicky. I have a question to ask you but I first have to tell you that I was not completely honest with you."
Me - Great. How can this night get any worse?
"Romeo" - "I lied about my age."
Me - Oh, no.
"Romeo" - "Um. Yeah. So I'm a senior in high school, not college. And I'm just 17. But I think we could still have a great time together."
Me - Silence.
"Romeo" - "So what I was wondering was if you would go to prom with me."

You know what? I was asking for it. The laws of nature say that if you ask someone out in a crazy way, something crazy will happen in return. And crazy it was. I mean, I was on a date with a minor. Who asked me to prom.

Me - "That's so sweet of you to ask, but I've already done the prom thing a few times and I really don't want to do it again."
"Romeo" - "Yeah, but it would be so fun and my friends will think you are so cool."
Me - "Really. Thanks but I think I'll pass." They won't think I'm cool. You just want them to think you're cool.
"Romeo" - "Well, just think about and let me know if you change your mind."
Me - "That's ok. I'm sure I don't want to go."

Needless to say, I didn't go out with "Romeo" again. And I could never step foot inside that Chili's, so I had to also say good bye to Real Romeo. You would think I would have learned my lesson from that, but I didn't. I went out with a few guys after that (by the way, they asked me out). But I eventually asked out another guy who happened to be my True Romeo. We dated for a number of years, then we got married. So I guess crazy people can find true love. Or maybe my husband is the real crazy one. All I know is that I lucked out.

Stinky Poopy Head! Pffftttt!

You know what I love? Children's complete lack of a filter. I love that they can't comprehend our ridiculous rules and just call it the way that they see it. If we didn't have these rules, some of my conversations would probably go like this:

Flo the Grocery Store Cashier as she picks up and reads my US Weekly (this actually happened, but in the real scenario I was polite.)
Flo - "Well, I cain't bulieve it. Cain you BULIEVE it? I mean, I cannot bulieve *celebrity name here* took all them drugs. I mean it's like if Jeff Gordon were to do sumthun like that. I mean, would you a thunk it?"
Me - "Um. Yeah."
Flo - "HEY DOREEN! YEAH, DOREEN! COME OVUR HERE! *CELEBRITY NAME HERE* BEEN TAKIN' ALL KINE O' THEM IL-LEGAL DRUGS! CAIN YOU BULIEVE 'AT?"
Me - Looking at Flo in disbelief and staring wide-eyed, trying to give her the hint to MOVE ON.
Flo - "I jus' cain't bulieve this," as she sympathetically shakes her head.
Child Me - "Well I can believe it because it happens everyday. Just go ahead and scan the damn thing so I can get out of here. By the way, Doreen looks like she doesn't give a flip. Stinky, poopy head."
Real Me - Wait politely until she puts down the magazine and finishes scanning my items. When she's done, I say "Thank you!" like we're BFFs and walk out.

Another true story. My parents and I went to a fast food fish joint for dinner one night and got into a lengthy discussion about one of my favorite topics - food. Sitting next to us is an employee. He's a string bean of a guy in his early 20's. To protect the innocent, let's call him Cletus.
Me - "Oh Dad. I made the best meal the other night. I cooked some black eyed peas with salted pork and mixed greens with a ham hock. Yummers. But my corn pones were terrible. The dogs didn't even want them."
Dad - "Well when are we coming over for dinner?"
Me, Dad and Mom - Laughter.
Cletus - "You know what's good? Chicken Bog."
Me - "Excuse me?"
Cletus - "I said Chicken Bog. It's like a stew with rice and chicken and sausage. It's really good. I'm from the Carolinas and we're known for that."
Me - "Um. Yeah."
Cletus - "Yeah. It's really good. But I cain't tell you my secrut ingredient."
Child Me - "Guess what. Chicken Bog is a grody name for food. Now I'm gonna eat my grody fast food fish and hang out with the parentals. You can keep the bog and your secret ingredient to yourself. Pfffttttt!"
Real Me - "Wow. That's great. Thanks for sharing. I may try it one day." I turn to Mom and Dad and give them that is-he-for-real look.

Yup. That's right folks. I am a magnet for people with inappropriate conversation starting skills. I must have that I'll-be-nice-to-anyone face. I just thought I had an Asian face. But whatever.

Back to the point. My four year old daughter's sweet innocence is still unfiltered. I love that she says I have bad breath in the morning, stinky feet when I wear those old shoes and a squishy bottom. She speaks the truth without judgment. She still loves everyone, even with their imperfections. There is a freedom in children that adults lose. And for some reason, we continue to shape our children so they can become like us -to grow up to be people too afraid to tell the total truth because sometimes the truth harbors painful judgment. Thankfully we'll eventually get there again as elderly folks who aren't afraid to yell at young punk kids, drive turtle speed in the fast line without a care and fart in the pharmacy.

Our World

I've found a new game. I love it. I am trying REALLY hard not to become addicted to it. It's called Our World. I just started so I haven't figured everything out just yet, but I love it. Slightly embarrassed that I love a site that primarily draws teenage girls, but I did love Twilight, so go figure. (Team Edward!)

I have a character named Victorie (very original). Her goal in life is to rack up coins and gems so she can buy stuff like clothes and furniture. She earns coins by playing online games. I'm telling you, this is a slippery slope of online gamedom.

Another objective is to make friends and interact with other characters (or is the correct term avatar?). Victorie has not made any friends yet. She just walks around aimlessly then plays a game in the arcade. I think she has social anxiety.

One Track Mind

Wow. It has been ages since I've posted something. And for good reason. I have a one track mind. No, no. It's not what you think.

I am a HORRIBLE multi-tasker, which is quite funny as my job demands that I do 10 zerbillion things at the same time. Impossible I tell you! Anyway, I've been very focused on non-bloggy matters, therefore the blog suffers. I must get my priorities straight.

Examples of non-bloggy matters:

• Family
• Work (of course)
• The new elliptical machine (I would write about this, but I'm not obsessed yet)
• My broken down car (seeing her splayed open in the shop was like identifying a loved one in the morgue - heart wrenching)
• Buying a new car (love my new Toyota Highlander! As you can see, I move on quickly.)
• Upcoming beach vacation and wishing I got the elliptical machine sooner
• New book club (we're reading Beth Moore's new book So Long Insecurity. Perhaps this will help with the beach trip.)

So there are my excuses, I mean distractions. Plus I am not really obsessing about anything right now, which is totally out of character. Not a single celebrity. Not any kind of music. Or even food for that matter. Maybe I need to see someone about this...

The Universal Symbol of Connection

There is nothing I crave more than the human connection - an emotional bond with someone because of a shared common interest, whether it's an object, event or even one another. So how better to celebrate this magnetic gravitational pull than with the high five.

I know what you're thinking. The high five is dated, a thing of the past. Au contraire, my friend. Au contraire. Yes the "cool" thing now is the fist bump; even the President is doing it. However I beg to differ and offer this: The fist bump is not a true connection; the high five is. Allow me to explain.

The fist bump is when two people create a fist with their respective hands, then proceed to have those fists make contact. It is used to symbolize the human connection; however it falls short of doing just that.

First, the vehicle in which to deliver this accord is a contradiction. How can someone make a positive connection when the hand is closed AND is a fist, which is typically used for violence when ushered at a rate equal to or greater than a certain velocity due to a negative motivation? (violence=intent+fist(fist delivery rate≥certain velocity))

Secondly, you hardly see people with pure joy on their faces before, during or after the act of the fist bump. The fist bump seems to be accompanied with an air of coolness and a head nod.

To you open hand high fivers, I salute you. Or rather high five you. You put yourselves out there with all your vulnerability. You put your hand up high for everyone to see; open, just like your heart, for that human connection. The sheer jubilation on your face shows your excitement for the anticipating bond. And when your open hands meet, the slapping sound confirming contact, bliss overcomes you. For in that split second, you know you are best friends for the moment.

And if the high five attempt is rejected, oh the sorrow and humiliation! For that hand was held up high for everyone to see, and the rejection they did indeed witness. A fist bumper isn't vulnerable. The fist can be hidden or played off as something else because that arm is held low and inconspicuous. Or worse yet, if the rejected human requesting the connection is violent, the fist bump could become a knuckle sandwich.

Friends, hear me now. Do not be fooled by the fist bump, a fleeting fad. You want to make a real connection? Then feel the joy of a true bond that can only be delivered and consecrated by the open-handed, slaptastic high five - a universal symbol of connection that will never grow old.

Let Me Drink You Please

NOTE: Received feedback that this post is VERY long. Cutting to the chase, would love to hear what song moves you. But please feel free to read the post if you have a couple of free hours.

It's hard writing this post because the topic I'm about to delve into almost leaves me speechless. And for those of you who know me, I hardly have a lack for words. But trust me, I'm so passionate about this one, words I will find (you may be concerned for my mental health when you're done reading this).

In 1998 I became obsessed with something (surprise, surprise). This obsession left me dizzy and breathless and foggy and craving more. It is a song that to this day, puts me in another atmosphere. Yes, this is one of the few obsessions I will have, hold and love forever.

Here's what I love about music and what you should keep in the back of your mind when reading this post. Otherwise you'll be convinced that I've lost it. Think about a song you absolutely love. The emotion you feel and where the song takes you. The connection you feel to the artists who created a sound that tells a story, a story that speaks to you. You feel this connection because the music is not just coming from a musician. The music is the musician - beautiful notes, lyrics and sounds that are pieces of someone's soul, bared for all.

So I've played this song over and over. I've dissected it and am amazed at the layers upon layers of passion. Dying to know the song yet? It's Crush by Dave Matthews Band on their album, Before These Crowded Streets. I LOVE this song. And for your enjoyment, or concerned pity, I'll dissect it for you. Note: The following analysis is expressly the crazed opinions of Vicky Cullison and is not endorsed nor verified by Dave Matthews Band and their affiliates. :)

Crush tells a story. If you listen to it 11,293 times like me, you'll discover that it is structured like a piece of literature, except via sound. There is an introduction, slow and heavy. It starts with a bass, thumping like a heartbeat. And if you turn the volume up loud enough, it's like feeling the song's pulse. A saxophone then comes in, inserting a jolt of heat.

The song then begins the transition to the body of the story, which is filled with bits of yearning and happiness. The string instruments begin playing beautiful long, whole notes and if I could explain yearning with music, it would sound like those strings. Dave Matthews comes in with the most believable and honest vocals, breathy and almost raw with emotion (which is even better when you hear a live version). Then with a combination of instruments, the mood changes to light and airy - the sound of happiness from being with the one you love, the one who crushes you. The song's body moves this way - back and forth with yearning and happiness.

The sound continues to build until it reaches a climax with an intense crescendo. That's when a string solo takes the lead and feverishly belts out some serious passion. If you listen to some live versions, the sax takes the song to its height. And let me tell you that LeRoi Moore isn't just playing the sax. That sound, that passion, is him.

The song then softens again with the conclusion. That soulful electric guitar combined with little flits of a flute and strings weave the yearning and happiness into a single emotion. THe song has come full circle. What exquisite storytelling. And I'm not even talking about the lyrics yet.

The song is called Crush and the lyrics seem to be about a crush, but it's so much more. The song says "crush me," like the storyteller has a yearning so intense that he wants to pull her into him. My favorite piece of lyric, "let me drink you please," likens the lovely lady to a basic necessity for survival. A tall glass of water he wants to take in in any way that he can. And the lyrics end with Dave Matthews pleading to let him hold his love always. But the way "let me always" is delivered seems like a plea for more than that, like he's grappling with wanting more.

Wow. Either you think I'm insane for over thinking this song, or you're a music lover like me who can appreciate a song's power to take you on an emotional rollercoaster (hope you are the latter). Every time I hear this song, my heart beats a little faster and flutters, my chest tightens and I can feel the emotions the artists feel. Fellas, just a little hint. If you let your lady know how she crushes you, how you yearn for her because her love is paramount to living, then I highly suspect the feelings will be reciprocated.

Unless you're a stalker and complete stranger. Then it's scary. And creepy.