Space Oddity

There are the good days and the bad. I love focusing on the good... and if I have to, I really milk it: "I'm good enough, smart enough, cute enough... and gosh darn it, people like me!" Before I start doing Planes, Trains and Automobiles monologues, or a Sally Field Oscars speech...

Somedays, I must honestly say, are worse than others. Hey, it's a blog. What use if not an honest vent? I'm freakin' human... I'll get mad and frustrated here and there.
Ok. There.
Back to immature, bratty jokes on everything from whether blocking your left nostril (or so says science, honest!) can allow you to cheer yourself up, as you are naturally more... ebullient when you breathe from the right and you alternate nostrils multiple times daily... to waxing on the fun of how in 1712 in the Swedish Empire, thanks to gaffes with the new Gregorian calendar, and war, there was actually a February 30th... (I guess if anyone did as I do and puts some nastier stuff on hold against that day... like, say, kissing a squirrel, giving into illness-- NEVER SURRENDER!) they were royally screwed! and on why it's important to pay attention.

But there are days when I am just coming out of a shadow--- at this point, I am still a little funky and not quite me yet... like this past week, when rather than making progress, history got repeated... I drew a map, for the love of Pete!--how hard is it to do a freakin' scan! I can't freakin' live like this! Where for short moments, I may experience a sensation like I've forgotten how to understand speech--- it's a bit annoying, and how I know I'm truly stressed. I've shown what it's like this way, and if needed, it works as a party trick..

I have, in my list, both Italian and English versions of Space Oddity and My Girl- the latter being the sweet song I've known since I was a child and it was one of "My"songs, the former sounding even creepier. Now, if I am having fun with friends and a few drinks get passed, and Space Oddity en Italiano pops up on shuffle, an astute person might say, "Wait what?"
I like to start singing along in English and going, "I have no idea what you're talking about..."

But David Bowie is creepier in Italian.