LIKE A PHOENIX RISING FROM THE ASHES....
Viva returns, if only to say thank you for continually checking the site to see if I am alive or dead. I check my little site counter and am amazed to see that you people still come here. That's love, folks. And Viva loves to feel the love. I am truly grateful.
I am very much alive and, if not kicking, then digging myself out from under 2 feet of snow and enough personal drama to make a grown woman reach for Xanax with a tequila chaser. He he.... Sure, Viva loves her angst, but there comes a point where my inner Joan of Arc is even like "I am sick of this shit!" And Joanie, God love her, had way more to complain about, being burned at the stake and all, but I sort of feel her "roasted like a pig on a spit" pain, if only psychologically--but considering Joan had to contend with the real deal, we'll let her be the martyr here. Oh heck, let me martyr my bad self out, just for a moment of shits and giggles. Recently, Viva here has muddled through a crapload of crappity-crappy things like death, legal wranglings, family drama, more family drama, a side of family drama, massive disappointment, and unwarranted judgment from repressed people who need a vibrator even more than she does (and that is saying something). My life, it seems, was like a bad Linda Rondstadt song.
But that which does not kill you makes you a tough old broad, and Viva prefers "better" to "bitter" these days, so rather than dwell on the bad, or even the "common" (my new favorite term to describe those who vex me), I'd rather leap headfirst back into the fabulous and celebrate all that which makes me joyous these days, such as (in no particular order):
My fabulous, wonderful, supportive friends who are my true family, sing "Jump" by Madonna to me for inspiration, and love and encourage me to be more of who I am, not what I am allegedly supposed to be (fuck that "supposed to be" stuff, anyway)--I don't know what I did to deserve such a great gang, but I'm so glad we all worked so hard to have our get-togethers and stay close all these years. You should all be submitting therapy bills. I'd be lost without you;
Madonna herself for providing Viva with her new life mantra''"WWMD?--WHAT WOULD MADONNA DO?" I am telling you, repeating this to yourself when confronted with a difficult situation can really change a girl's life. Bless you Madge, and your leotards, which you make look hot even when you are pushing 50.
My dog Cooper, my little man, who makes me laugh with every silly thing he does, and reminds me how precious unconditional love really is. And coats every surface with thousands of little blond hairs. But I don't care because he's the best, most loyal and loving man out there. I want to be just like him when I grow up (well, in female, human form).
My Mom and Dad--although both are no longer in this physical plane and are "pushing up the daisies" as my old man would say, I still feel them hanging around and rooting for me in spite of all my dysfunction. I thank dad for my warped sense of humor, general good nature, and for giving me the most kick ass male role model ever--he and my mom had a real partnership, filled with mutual respect. There will never be another like my old man. And my gorgeous mother--a theatrical hairstylist, ardent student of Jungian psychology, and master astrologer (what other mother would pull out the I Ching when I had a question about a boy I liked?). She made me quirky, independent, and filled me with Madonna-like catch phrases in between running a house, volunteering at my grammar school and getting nominated for EMMYs. Some gems of Mom's include:
"Be an innovator, not an imitator,"
"In order to succeed, you must desire, and that desire must shorten your sleep,"
"Be a lady and mind yourself (okay I suck at this one),
and Viva's personal favorite: "I am not teaching you how to clean or cook, because I do not want you to be a slave to a man; I want you to be a princess and remember, don't get married until you are at least 40."
God I miss ya, mom! I can't bake for shit, and at best I am an domestically indifferent, but goddamn if all your advice over the years wasn't spot-on. I am thrilled to be your progeny and carry on your good lucks (albeit with thin lips, but that is why God made Restylane) and delightfully different outlook on life. While other mothers sat at soccer games, mine brought me onto movie sets (of course, under the threat of death if I were to act up, which I never did because, dude, I was on a movie yet--yippee!); when Mom was on location for months at a time, Dad took the reins at home, and instilled in me a love of Hormel Chili, Dinty Moore stew, and Stephen King movies .... so many great memories. You fun dead people totally rock, and I love you dearly. Thanks for the DNA.
Scranton, PA: I see glimpses of Scranton during the beginning of "The Office" and still get misty. This is where the madness, the pyramids, the murder-scene bathrooms, all began. It is also the home of Zorba cheese fries, without which, I'd be 20 pounds lighter. Scranton will always be our touchstone. Long may the Electric City reign.
My House: I love my house; it's comfy, cozy, and filled with all the furniture I inherited from the folks, along with every thrift store treasure I could dig up on the East Coast. It keeps me warm and grounded, safe and secure, gives Cooper a place to run around and, as of late, has been the site of wonderful dinner parties with my closest and dearest--why spend money and go out when you can stay in and be comfy? Viva loves having the family over, even if its for pizza, wine, and Sex in the City! I even learned how to use a snowthrower and make a real fire in the fireplace. Next up, the lawnmover, maybe I will chop my OWN firewood. Okay, that's taking it too far. But YAY!!!
Britney Spears: Because hey, as horrible and miserable as my life might get, I will never be so screwed up as to shave my fucking head. I mean, come on now. She's bringing CrazyBack and not in a good way. I mean, divorce happens Brit, and it sucks but you're a mega-millionaire and 24--AND you popped out two kids. Pull it together already and put on some underwear. She makes me look sane and well-reasoned by comparison. God bless the Britster.
Me: Yes me. Oh why the hell not? Crappy times can really test a person and show them what they are made of; sometimes you can't control the crap or how or why crap happens, but you CAN control how you react to the crap, how you grow from the crap, and how this crap makes you realize that you are a pretty cool person in spite of, well, the crap. And you realize how piles of said crap can give you choices--the high road or the low road or even, the road everyone takes or the road less traveled.... Thus far, I have taken the high road in my recent angstfest, and am happy about that--there can be respect and trust even amidst the crap. And for the future, Viva is gearing up for the road less traveled because, well, she lives for that shit. Why be normal when you can be freakishly wacky and fun? So, check in for more celebrity updates and commentaries, the triumphant return of "People Who Annoy the Living Crap Out of Me," "[Insert Celebrity Name Here] or My Vibrator?," various stories about the inane situations I often find myself in, and, why I am going to buy the new "Hair Do" hair extension system in spite of my rampant hatred of Jessica Simpson (and her little queen, Ken Paves, although I am jealous because she has him and I don't). I know, I am crossing to the Dark Side and cannot be stopped. This is, like, sacrilege. But honestly, the hair totally makes a normal woman look like a wanton she-devil. All for $90, but there's supposed a place out on Long Island where you can get the extensions for half price. LOVES IT!!!!
In the meantime, though, some culture for you folks, because this is a heartfelt post, in spite of all the "fuck"s and "shit"s and vibrator mentions:
The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
