Becky's Greatest Hits Vol. II

 I saw Brokeback Mountain in a theater by myself.  At the time, very few people knew what an incredible film it would be.  My husband of the moment drove me to the art house theater and had a few beers next door while I watched.  Another solitary lady was sitting near me.  We sobbed and looked across at each other a few times....an unspoken understanding between us. Over the years, I've gotten used to doing a lot of things on my own.....eating out, traveling, driving long distances, shopping, even sometimes going to some local events.  Sometimes I know I'll run into someone I know, so I don't mind making the lonely lady entrance because I'm sure I'll meet friends soon enough.  Other times, I kind of welcome a quiet alone-time experience.   I once even took a weekend trip by myself which I called my Mommy Reading Retreat.  I rented a cabin by a lake, stocked the fridge and didn't leave for 2 days.  I slept late, ate junk, sunbathed ...

  There's something about a man asking you to dance.  You feel chosen.  He didn't pick her.  He picked you. There's something about a man asking you to marry him.  Or even saying he wants to marry you.  Someday.   You feel honored.  There will be no other after you. There's something about a man saying he wishes you would or could have had his babies.  It's the greatest compliment.  He wants to carry on his life through you. There's something about the way a man can exalt a woman with his words.   Whether he means them or not. They are beautiful words. They are magic. Be careful of them. 

 Even though I would not consider myself religious or even spiritual, I keep this in my bag and carry it with me daily.  That explains the creases.  Written on the back are thoughts, dreams, hopes, wishes.....or I suppose, we can call them prayers.  I used to think on these things and hope for them to come true.  Many of them have.  I carry them with me to remember. A friend once told me that for a non-religious person, I talked about karma a lot.  It's true.  I often think about karma, ideas of fate, retribution, conscience, consquences and human existence in general.  I often wonder if I'm doing or have done the "right thing".  I wonder if I've made apologies or amends to bad choices.  I wonder if I've taken the right path.  I wonder if I've kept my integrity intact.  Sometimes yes, sometimes no.   I once confessed a boatload of bad deeds to a very strong and very intelligent feminist in my life.  I asked ...

 

 When you're going through something bad, spend some time alone.  Allow yourself to cry, wear dirty pajamas and eat whatever you want.  Don't worry about how you look or who you offend.  You're in your own space.  Do you. When you're going through something bad, reconnect with people from your past.  They knew you before you knew yourself.  They'll help remind you of who you are. When you're going through something bad, be easy on yourself.  Forgive yourself.  Own what you did.  Don't own what you didn't do. When you're going through something bad, listen to a lot of heavy metal.  Preferably from the 1980's. When you're going through something bad, lean on the people in your life that you know you can count on.  Friends, family, coworkers, a partner, kids.  The people who understand you and know what you're like everyday.  The people you don't have to perform for.   When you're going through something bad, l...

 Let's start with confessions...... Confession #1: I was never a Riot Grrrl.  Even though I was the perfect age and demographic, it just wasn't my thing.  I didn't have that kind of anger.  Confession #2: I never really dug Kathleen Hanna.  And I'm actually still on the bubble with her. Confession #3: As a writer myself, I understand how a memoir will always be your way of telling  YOUR side of the story. Confession #4: As wacky as she is, I'm Team Courtney for life. All this being said, this is a great memoir.  I recommend listening to the audiobook instead of reading to hear Kathleen's voice and raw emotion in some parts.   Her difficult 70's childhood, late 80's college education and 90's punk rock Pacific Northwest lifestyle are either relatable, memorable or terrifying. I had a different kind of life myself.  I grew up and went to college as more of Lilith Fair feminist.....let's all hold hands and sing "Closer to Fine" with the I...

 We have been suffering a drought in the Southeast this summer.  It has been hot, dry and generally miserable for a few weeks now.  Usually we have until about mid-July before this phenomenon ruins our lives.  Ruination came early this year. The word "drought" has so many connotations in our lives.  Obviously, it usually  means a lack of rain.  But it can mean a lot of other things.  Probably most often people associate it to a lack of sex.  But it could be a drought of the mind, of friends, of fun escapades.  I'm here to tell you, no matter what you're lacking, it does tend to make you feel dried up and near dead.  Be it body or grass. Today, it started to drizzle just a bit.  It didn't last long, but it was such a welcome site outside my office window.  My coworkers were marveling over it.  Everyone was anxious to walk out into it. And I had a memory.  A memory that probably comes to me every time it rains in t...

 I started writing when I was a young girl.  In elementary school I wrote poems and stories and some of them were even published locally.  I had a wild imagination, but in my heart I wanted to be a reporter some day. I blame Kurt Vonnegut. When I was about 15 I read my first Vonnegut book, Slaughterhouse-Five.  And it's wild and brilliant and insane and we all know it's a classic.  But the thing I remember most was what Uncle Kurt said about the female reporters during WWII.  He said they were the best.  Relentless.  That they worked way harder than the men and were way better.   That's what I wanted to be.  I wanted to go to NYU and study journalism.  I wanted to be Christiane Amanpour, Barbara Walters, Lois Lane!  I wanted to know all the things before anyone else knew.  I wanted a sign-off on the nightly news like Walter Cronkite......"and that's the way it is." Well......needless to say......all that did not happe...

 I'm telling you, if want to experience this book the best way possible don't read it, LISTEN to it.  The sound of Owen Elliot-Kugell's lovely voice as she repeatedly says "my mom" and "my mother" is a gift to your ears.   Being born in 1975, I can barely remember the 70's.  What I do remember is mostly vintage clips of television shows and news reports: bright polyester suits on variety shows, Walter Cronkite, women in long caftans and head scarves, and music.  So much music.  My own mother raised me on The Mamas and the Papas, so the voice of "Mama" Cass Elliot is one I know well. Like many people who love the 1960's, folk music and the early days of rock music, I've heard a good many of these stories before.  But I haven't heard them told from this perspective.  The purity, the honesty and the respectfulness of Owen's retelling is extraordinary.  It's the way we would all like to be described by our kids someday.   Sh...

 Reason #6752 why it's hard to work with a bunch of dudes all the time: they don't understand how us ladies need to talk.   Oh, wait.  Strike that.  They do understand.  They just don't want to hear it. The ladies out there will get this.....go with me here. You know how you'll go out to the kitchen to get a snack or go to the bathroom, at home or at work, it doesn't matter.  And while you're on that errand you'll suddenly think of something.  Then you'll come back to your cubicle or the living room or your porch and you'll need to remark on what you thought of. Examples include but are not limited to: "I am getting so fat." "I really need to stop eating so much cheese."   "I thought my period would be over by now." "Do you remember that movie we saw about 2 years ago with Clive Owen?  That was really good." "This bra is killing me." (slight homage to Pamela Adlon) Any of these phrases could come up a...