Aunt Allie

I can’t believe I haven’t talked about this on my blog yet (I am a little behind) but I’m going to be an aunt! I technically already am – my sister has a stepson – but she is now pregnant with a little boy and is due in October.

It is also well-known in my circle that I do not like children.

This is a blanket statement, of course, and requires clarification. I am child-free, but I love the kids in my family, blood related and otherwise. I just do not relate easily to children and lack maternal instincts. Like… if a kid falls down at my job because they’re running around or doing something they’re not supposed to, I ain’t stopping to help them up. Kids are known to freeze in their tracks when I send “the glare” their way, and I had a reputation of being scary to children in my old neighborhood in MA, because no one would ring my doorbell during trick or treat for two years running. Those kids also shouldn’t have been playing in my yard, thus prompting me to yell at them a few times, but I digress…

Not liking children does not mean I am not stoked for my sister to have a baby, because I am! I love my step-nephew (or stephew, if you will) already – he is a polite and genuinely fun kid to be around, but having a baby around will be new territory.

We held her baby shower this past weekend, and it was awesome to see friends and family coming together to celebrate with masks and hand sanitizer on hand and as much social distancing as possible. I have felt bad for her because, with the state of the world right now, she hasn’t had what can be called a “normal” pregnancy, but I’m super glad she and the baby are both healthy, which is the most important thing.

My sister has been one of my few companions during this pandemic, and, if I ever don’t feel well, I make sure not to go around her. We’ve been going for walks and getting “starbies,” our standard white girl indulgences.

With my typical dislike of children, I never thought I’d be excited to be an aunt. But I really am – I’ve already got stuff for the baby’s third birthday, and when I go to the store, I usually pick up my stephew some Pokemon cards. Maybe it’s growth – part of getting older. I actually stop and look around the childrens/baby department at stores now instead of hustling by to avoid being around stranger’s spawn.

Now, does that mean I am warming to the idea of having my own children? Well…

ABSOLUTELY NOT. But Aunt Allie is ready to be the best aunt ever.

Deep Forest

Instead of doing a “current tunes” post, I thought I’d take a minute to talk about one song in particular, and that song is Fukai Mori (translation: Deep Forest) by Japanese band Do As Infinity.

Some folks may know this song as the 2nd ending theme for the anime Inuyasha, which is how I, as a young weeaboo back in the day where liking anime was “uncool”, came to know it as well. I actually started watching Inuyasha because I caught the ending theme on Adult Swim one day, and then watched entire episodes just to get to the ending so I could hear the song. Now I’m eagerly anticipating the sequel series slated to run this fall, but that’s another story entirely…

In 7th grade, the first thing I begged my mom to buy me on eBay was an Inuyasha soundtrack album so I could finally have Fukai Mori on CD. Within a couple of years, I owned three soundtrack CDs because I grew to love the entire musical library from the show all because of one song. It truly sparked my love of J-Pop music, and Do As Infinity remains one of my favorite bands. And to this day, Fukai Mori remains a stalwart presence on the soundtrack to my life.

I don’t know why it connects with me the way it does, but it stuck to me from the first time I heard it. It burrowed into my heart, and has inspired me in my lowest moments. At first, I didn’t understand the words – I’ve since read a translation, of course – but I could feel the song. It’s a song that will stay with me, if that makes any sense at all. It makes me think of the past – when I eagerly stayed up on Saturday nights to watch anime – and helps me feel hopeful for the future.

Does anyone else have a song like that – one that defines certain moments in their life, or attaches to them in some meaningful way?

AF

So, my real name isn’t Allie Frost.

My real name is not a huge secret or anything, so I don’t particularly care if folks know it, but my actual initials are still AF. And I sign everything with my initials. Documents, emails, etc. I do have very poor, distinctive penmanship though, so forgery would be quite hard.

The other day, before a meeting at work, as I was settling down in a chair with my notepad and pen ready to go, my boss asked me, “Did you know your initials are internet slang for ‘as f*ck’?”

To which I replied, “Why do you think I sign everything with my initials?”

I mean… that’s not really why I do it, I do it because I’m lazy and my handwriting is atrocious, but still. I am fully aware of what my initials indicate in the internet/social media world. And my boss thought it was funny, so…

But now, hearing it aloud, it has struck me. The weight of those two letters.

I need to try to live my life not only as AF, but live my life af.

Holy

I may catch flak for this… but spelling is important. I’m all for abbreviations, I LOVE emojis, and I’m not opposed to “text speak,” but proper spelling is another matter.

When I was in junior high, ripped jeans were a fad. But they were also against dress code. Anyone who dared defy the constrictions of said dress code were forced by the educational overlords to put duct tape over any and all holes or tears in their jeans/pants. It was quite a big deal for a while and many protests were raised by incensed students – because “fashion,” or whatever – to no avail. I wore a lot of sweatpants at that age, so I don’t remember being too bothered.

But further issues arose when administration started posting signs in the halls decrying said jeans. Except the signs didn’t say “holey” jeans. They said “holy” jeans.

Holy.

I repeat: HOLY.

As in… like… religious holy. So, they banned holy jeans. Which are jeans that are blessed by a priest, I guess? Perhaps sprinkled with holy water? Needless to say, the student body had a field day with that unfortunate incident, and the faculty went through a lot of duct tape to fix that mistake.

So yeah, much like grammar… spelling matters, folks.

 

I’ve Got Plans

Hours at my job vary depending on a multitude of circumstances. Some days I can (allegedly) trek home after 9 hours, which is the standard length of a shift for a salaried executive at my workplace. Though, to be honest, I don’t think I’ve worked a 9 hour shift since I started, and the other day I pulled a 6AM to 9:30PM, then Sheetz forgot to put tater tots in my made-to-order burrito I bought on my way home, which really capped off a wonderful day, but I digress…

Last Friday, I went to work at 6AM and aimed to leave by 5:30 at the latest because I had plans. I’d mentioned it in passing to my coworker, who also had plans, so we both vowed to leave “on time.” The day wore on, hitting the same type of beats they always do, maybe a couple of snags, until the sun went down and reinforcements arrived, allowing us to wrap up and prepare to head off into a nice weekend off.

As we were preparing to leave, my coworker asked me, “So, what movie are you going to see?”

I was about to answer, but paused. When I’d mentioned having plans, it had been only a brief thought – I’d not divulged any details. So I furrowed my brow and asked, “How did you know I was going to see a movie?”

She laughed, and said something to the effect of, “Well, no offense, but what else would you be doing?”

I took no offense at all – because she was 100% right, and I was meeting my parents for an opening-night screening of 1917. My actions may be predictable, but it’s a comfortable sort of predictability, one that I can happily accept as a part of my identity. Movie-going, and film-watching, is my thing. In my circle, it’s what I have come to be known for, and I like that. When I say, “I’ve got plans,” those who know me can say with about 90% certainty (sometimes I just go to dinner) what exactly that means.

Yesterday

Yesterday, my alarm went off at 4:30AM. I smashed the snooze button until 4:50, but it was technically my day off, so I wasn’t under much pressure to be on time to work.

I brewed my coffee into a “Do or do not, there is no try” travel mug emblazoned with Yoda on the side, grabbed a protein bar, donned lazy-day yoga pants and a sweatshirt, and climbed into my car as the sun began to break over the horizon. For about the fiftieth time since I bought it, I thanked the car gods (and the previous owner) for blessing me with a vehicle that was customized to have a seat warmer installed in the front seat. It will be a blessing on cold winter mornings.

I lamented that the Radio Classics station on XM Satellite Radio was playing a comedy, and not one of my favorite detectives, like Philip Marlowe, or a good creepy show like Suspense or the Witch’s Tale. So I settled for music on the long commute to work, hating the bits and scraps of poor, car-struck deer littering the sides of the highway.

I strolled into work, determined to fly under the radar, but still said hello to a few folks as I hastened by, though I reminded them that it was my day off – not to brag about my “dedication,” but to hopefully inspire them not to bother me too much with the usual day-to-day shenanigans since I was putting in my own time. For three and a half hours, I managed to get a good chunk of work done, but left before I could get too sucked into a project. Also, my supervisor told me I looked terrible when I walked by, so I figured I should leave and hopefully alleviate some of the haggard-ness from my face.

I nabbed Starbucks breakfast – the spicy chorizo sandwich and a caramel cloud macchiato – and made the long drive home. This time, Gunsmoke was on the Radio Classics channel, and though I normally shy away from Westerns, I decided to give it a go, and was pleasantly surprised that I enjoyed it. Not as much as my favorite detectives, but my ears have been opened to a new genre, at the very least.

Once home, I made a couple of phone calls – endured the tedious wait times and horrible hold music – and set up my utilities for my new apartment, feeling proud to see new account numbers written down in my name. Then my mom and I went to the gym, where I was able to knock out a few chapters of my latest read, and reached the first few pages of the final installment in Claire Farrell’s Chaos series, which I am absolutely loving. It makes me look forward to the tiring treadmill sessions, as all great books should.

After a quick drive home and an even quicker shower, my mom and I drove over to the movie theater for an afternoon showing of Harriet, the biopic starring Cynthia Erivo. Though I yet again cursed the inefficient way the theater conducts their concessions lines, especially on $6 Tuesdays, I was thrilled to see that the female-driven movie about a heroic black woman was showing in theater #1, which is the largest and often reserved for the hotly-anticipated blockbusters, even though it came out the same day as Terminator: Dark Fate. Despite some audience annoyances, we were both thoroughly engrossed in the film and enthralled by the powerful performances.

Still pondering the messages of the movie, we ran a couple of errands, grabbed another Starbucks (don’t judge me) – me a venti pink drink, her a pumpkin cream cold brew – and then, before returning home, we decided to do our duty and vote in the local elections. I am personally a long way from being fully informed, but I made my choices and cast them, and felt proud to receive the little “I voted!” sticker at the end of the line. The sun was going down as we drove home – the curse of the dreaded daylight savings – and I started the first of what would be three loads of laundry in an effort to get a few chores finished before the close of the day.

After a salmon dinner, I scrolled through my FB feed, rife with “Remember, remember, the fifth of November” posts, and just as many posts lambasting them – and then my mom and I tuned in for The Little Mermaid Live! on ABC, while my dad left the room to watch NCIS upstairs. I was charmed, watching one of my favorite Disney movies come to life onscreen, and I was personally pleased by the performances and the production value. Still humming the familiar tunes, I turned in to my bedroom for the night, watched a few Youtube videos, then drifted off to sleep.

Yesterday felt like a simple day – not a waste, per se, but maybe a little dull, not too jam-packed, nothing to sneeze at. An average November day. But when I write it out… sometimes, even the simple things can have more meaning than we first believe.

 

 

McFlurry

Little known fact: I am scared of drive-thrus.

This is a quirk that stems from my irrational fear of car washes, I think. Or it’s born from some other bizarre facet of my psyche. I don’t really know, but I have actively avoided drive-thrus since I got my driver’s license ten years ago.

My new route to work features numerous drive-thrus that make food more accessible, which is convenient for someone with an hour commute, but for my first few shifts, all I did was mobile order Starbucks and pick it up for a dose of caffeine on the ride home. No drive-thrus – I’d rather go inside the establishment and order something “to go” than to go through a drive-thru.

But, the other night, I closed at work, so I wasn’t ready to leave the building until around 10:30, and then a snafu with the alarm system kept me there until around 11. I was very, very done with the day by that point – because a very nice police officer also scared the living daylights out of me while I was working out the alarm problem, because he thought I looked suspicious sitting alone in my car in front of the building. Which I did, I guess, but it was a shot of adrenaline I didn’t need.

As I was finally driving home, I passed a Wendy’s, a Burger King, a Sheetz… and then I saw it. Those horrible, beautiful golden arches. McDonald’s.

My stomach rumbled, and I knew what I had to do. I had to face my fear in order to scrape some semblance of joy from the night.

I pulled up to the order box, heart pounding, and ordered my favorite item on the menu – an M&M McFlurry. And, by some miracle, their ice cream machine was working! I carefully pulled up to the next window and paid, then pulled up to the last window to claim my prize. The employee held it out to me, but it was there, at the final window, that one of my drive-thru related fears materialized… I hadn’t pulled up quite close enough.

This might have, in my earlier years, prompted a bit of an emotional crisis. I was once driving on the Mass Pike and didn’t pull up close enough to take the ticket in the toll station and had to get out of my car, serenaded by the blaring horns of fellow drivers. It was an irrationally traumatic moment for me, and heightened the fear of drive-thrus. So, this same scenario unfolding on a chilly October evening, in the twenty seventh year of my life, could have sparked an equally upsetting episode.

But, it didn’t. I just put my car in park and leaned out the window a little further, and the McFlurry was mine. It was a smooth drive home that evening. Not only did I conquer a fear, but I got one of my favorite sweet treats in the process.

And maybe – just maybe – I can take on some bigger drive-thrus now, too.

The Great Zoltar

While doing some after-dinner shopping while on vacation a couple of weeks ago, my mom, sister, and I wandered into a new-agey mineral shop. I enjoyed perusing the crystals and geodes, but what ultimately drew my attention was the fortuneteller machine by the door. It was a good one, too – just like Zoltar from Big.

I know that suck things are basically nonsense. A flashy machine with a semi-sinister looking puppet inside isn’t going to be able to tell your fortune. But there was a dollar burning a hole in my wallet. I mean, why not give it a go? It worked for Tom Hanks, right?

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My fortune read (if you can’t read the picture, which you probably can’t):

“Something that has been puzzling you will finally be revealed. A lost object may reappear, or a letter may come from afar. Friends share secrets and your loyalty is rewarded. A Capricorn supervisor is very impressed.”

That night, I was standing on the brink of a big change in my life. I strolled along the pier feeling confident and ready for what the future held. I am going through a major shift now, and… it’s a struggle. I knew it would be, but I’m having a harder time than I anticipated. So, I am keeping this fortune tucked in my wallet. It may be a load of hooey based on random numbers and conjecture, but I still have hope in the future.

Outside Looking In

I feel like every generation has some “fandoms” that, although they can transcend time and appeal to various age groups, are seen almost as a “staple.” But, of course, it’s impossible to involve yourself in all of them. So here are the ones I missed out on, as a millenial growing up in the nineties/2000’s!

1.) The Legend of Zelda
I have, in my twenty seven years on this planet, never played a Zelda game. I was a Sony girl, so I had Playstations growing up – the only Nintendo consoles I owned were the hand-held ones, and I only played them for Pokemon and the occasional KH game or FF remaster. So as far as the fandom goes, I only have basic knowledge, which is one of my greatest shames as a gamer. I do know that the hero is Link, though. I am similarly a novice at most Mario games, but I am a beast at Mario Kart.

2.) A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket
I read about 10 million books in my youth and somehow missed out on this book series. It is the kind of series that is 100% up my alley, so I’m not sure how it flew below my radar. I have since made it a goal to read all of them, because I don’t want to watch the show without having read the books.

3.) Anything on the Disney Channel
Honestly, I didn’t know that Disney Channel was even a thing during my childhood. I was more into Nickelodeon and Cartoon Network, and only discovered Disney Channel when I stumbled upon a That’s So Raven rerun on TV one day while scrolling through the channels. So, I didn’t know that there were show versions of my favorite Disney movies, like Hercules and Aladdin. I was too busy scaring the pants off of myself watching Are You Afraid of the Dark? By the time I discovered it, I was basically too old to be watching…. though I snuck in a couple of episodes of Suite Life from time to time.

4.) Naruto (and other popular anime)
I was a pretty big weeaboo back in the day, but never got into such titles as Naruto, Death Note, Bleach, or One Piece, just to name a few. This is not to say that I didn’t like these shows – I just didn’t really watch them. I did watch a bit of Naruto and Bleach, and I enjoyed what I saw, but I tend to drop off from titles when they are super long and I’m not completely enthralled by them. This was the era when folks were wearing Naruto headbands to school, so being an anime fan who didn’t watch Naruto was a bit of a stigma. The exception is Death Note, which I did watch in its entirety but I did not quite get the hype as much as some of my friends did. The perfect anime length for me is 26-52 episodes, or 13 episodes, depending on the series. Anything longer tends to be too much for me, though I was hugely into Inuyasha and Sailor Moon.

To My Younger Self

Here, on Olde Poetry Monday Friday, a poem I wrote in 2012. I don’t remember writing it, but with all the changes going on in my life, I thought it was appropriate.

 

To My Younger Self

To my younger self,
A bit of advice for your future.
When Coach Smith tells you not to try and stop suddenly,
at the end of your section of the relay,
listen to him.
He knows what he’s talking about.
And your knees will never be the same.

Don’t take A.P. Government your senior year.
You aren’t even going to take the A.P. Test
and that ‘B’ is going to ruin your G.P.A.
and while you’re at it, don’t take Calculus freshman year of college.
that ‘B’ is going to ruin your G.P.A.

Practice your violin a little more,
so you don’t get embarrassed when you have to play for a crowd,
and so you don’t have to fake-play your way through concerts.
Actually learn how to play the James Bond theme
instead of moving your bow and hoping you’re in synch with the others.

Say hi to your old Spanish teacher when you walk past him in the hallway.
Even when he isn’t your teacher anymore.
Because when he runs into your class and congratulates you
on the hefty college scholarship you received
you’re going to feel like an asshole for not talking to him for two years.

Don’t steal your government teacher’s prized stress ball during class
and then spend study hall cutting letters out of the newspaper to make ransom notes
and then slide said ransom notes under the door of her office.
…actually, you should still do that.
That was pretty funny.

Remember to tell your grandmother you love her every time you see her.
Remember that no matter what stupid shit your sister does,
she took you to pet cows on your sixteenth birthday.
Remember to always see movies with your parents.
Remember to always thank Alex’s parents for having you over for dinner.
Remember to tell that guy you aren’t interested before he breaks up with his girlfriend for you.
Remember to always laugh at ‘That’s What She Said’ Jokes.

But most of all, past self,
Remember. No regrets.