'Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine' by Gail Honeyman.

December 10, 2017

  I completed my twenty-eighth book this year, and it was the best book. Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman is more than a fine novel. Rarely do I leave a comment when rating a book on Goodreads, but I had to express myself in hopes of encouraging others to read it as well. Below is a bit of the review:

  It's quite hard for me to articulate why I love this book as much as I do, but I cannot recommend it enough. I am moved and was touched at the core of my being in so many ways. There were moments I had complete empathy for and related to Eleanor, and in other moments I was utterly cringing to be in her thoughts, especially chapters with Mummy. There is no way to prepare for it.

  As my sister and I each have unique relationships with our mother, this hit my heart in ways I didn't expect. Though our situations don't align, the feelings provoked are very similar; worthlessness, loneliness, feeling doomed, never good enough...

Starbucks cup Haiku.

December 2, 2017.

Alan, 'Coco,' and storytelling.

November 29, 2017

  So, this appeared on my Timehop today...

Watching the newest Alan Rickman movie. #immanerd! I'm so excited, I can't stop smiling! #alanlove #greatweek #cbgb

— Amanda (@mundanemandaa) November 29, 2013

'the' voice.

November 20, 2017.

Originally written in fall of 2013.

i'm what gives her heart life.
it pounds,
it quivers,
it flutters.
she keeps listening for more.
i'm so
versatile 
so slow.
she presses play
over and over
again
because she wants it all.
nonstop.

i don't know how i do it,
but it's more than just her
that obsesses for me.
i had difficulties in the past.
they've been overcome
and i'm what he's remembered for.
as sweet as the wine she drinks,
i touch her
so smoothly,
so boldly,
so irresistibly,
it appears as if i'm a guily pleasure.
she'll never stop.

i stop,
but i'm still vocal
in her mind,
in her daydreams,
in her soul.
and when the time comes,
i can't be heard,
i won't give life to what he wants to say,
she'll miss me,
maybe more than she'll miss him.
she won't be the only one
longing for me.

The power of a song.

November 6, 2017

  Ever since I saw the band Good Old War for the first time as last week's Josh Ritter show, I've been listing to the band's songs nonstop. Specifically, The River is a daily play since Friday:

  So, as usual, I left the office past normal hours. As I made my way down 70, there was a massive jam. The online map showed an accident in two spots, actually. I checked my fuel gauge, and it was centimeters away from being at empty. Rather than freaking out, I turned up the volume and listened to the song on repeat.

  I sat for what felt like a half hour, waiting to make just an inch of progress. Every time the song ended, I pressed replay. Eventually, brake lights ahead of me faded, and we proceeded down the highway. To avoid any more stopping, I took the immediate exit to reach the closest Shell, which was actually at the exit after.

  Only after I started pumping gas did I realize I did not feel any anxiety -- as I usually would have felt in a situation similar to this one. I had a sincere smile and was not pouting the 40 minutes added to my commute home.

  Fast-forward to Sunday. On the way home from my radio show, the rain quickly picked up. It went from a drizzle to a downpour in a matter of a minute. My dad texted me and said to pull over until it stopped, but I continued.

  Remembering the lack of anxiety I felt on Friday driving down 70 for the second time that weekend, I blared the same song, turned on the car's hazard lights, and slowly made my way down the highway until the rain reached a moderate, more manageable condition.

  Again, being controlled and relaxed with a good song kept my anxiety at bay. I pulled into my driveway and alerted my dad I arrived safely.

The power of songs with positive affirmations is so important. I'll always associate The River with these two moments when panic attacks could have occurred but didn't. I wish for you to find comfort in music when you most need it.

To my (past) love

October 28, 2017

To my (past) love:
it’s been long, but that isn’t bad because
long isn’t truly long,
like we make everything out to be.
Everything unavoidably finishes.
Long like the rivers
throughout the world that end,
Long like the hair
that runs down my mother’s back.
Oh, my love. Long is never too long,
because long will eventually
bring an end,
a demise we will try to push aside
for forever,
so that long will never meet our paths.
But,
it will. And it has.

'One year without you.'

October 16, 2017

   A very sophomoric way to release the thoughts I've been having this week...

You died just over a year ago
and I don't feel overwhelming sorrow
Your presence continues to remain
each time I enter your old domain

We rarely had to cross paths
but when we did, we'd share laughs
Your warmth endlessly radiated to everyone 
can you tell me where you have gone?

I think about my death and when I'll leave
if others will have a similar reaction or even grieve
My presence underbearing, just mundane
nothing in comparison, so there'll be no pain

Even to me, someone you barely knew
you made a difference and I grew
I won't be that person, though I try
I'll die with that, being a minor passerby

'Selfish sorry.'

October, 11, 2017

There's nothing for me to say.

I don't know how to make things better

Relying on time to drive the memory of me away.

We can't go on this trip together.

The effort is dragging me behind

How could I do this for-fucking-ever?

I become a person I don't recognize.

Voices make me angry

Forcing me to constantly apologize.

It's well past-due to catch your flight.

The alarm won't stop buzzing

Reminding you you're alive and alright.

This has been taken way too far.

Get on that plane at last

To find yourself another lonely star.

The whys still linger in my mind.

I can't control how I feel

The thoughts push and repeatedly grind.

Message once landed and taking your drag.

Yeah, I still have a heart

But one that journeys through life stag.

Don't think I'm not disappointed too.

I'm longing you were who I thought

So I’d be not as alone as you.

Lucky number five.

October 9, 2017.

Club Cafe, Pittsburgh, October 5.
I always take a selfie in front of the stage.

  I got to see Fastball five times this year. FIVE times. What can I say? I fell in love really effin' hard and fast. The band is the soundtrack of my year, and I love sharing this with friends, family, and anyone who is willing to take it all in with me. Now I'm completely crashing from this rush of passion, excitement, thrill, and pure bliss. There are no remaining tour dates, and I'm left to reminisce and reflect on the intimate three shows I attended the second half of the year, two shows within the past four days.

  The last show is a close tie to being the best show this year. I convinced my dad to go out on a Sunday night with me because I try quite hard to impress him, and I knew that he'd get more than he expected with Fastball's live performance. I got him hooked on Colin, and now he's getting reeled in with Fastball. He knew the hits before me, obviously, but he had never seen the band live. I was on a mission to get him to the show and to experience the absolute brilliance that is the "rock & roll pop harmonic thrill seekers" I'm deeply passionate about.

'My fear pretend that I'll never be in love again...'

September 21, 2017.

  Oh, Gin Blossoms. I adore you.

  I'm just going to leave this here to explain my current thoughts on my love-life...

Finding me.

September 19, 2017.

Foreign melodies, clanking chimes, talking, my voice, all of it.
I need any one way, any one thing, to drown it out.
Turning away, to turn to you. 

  Loving my selfie is getting easier, but by no means is it something I'm able to do every day. From the facial scars to the various worries of how my face-size appears - plus the fact I still appear college-aged - it's sometimes hard to not think about the ridicule and comments others may make and, even more, my own perceptions. It impacts self-worth when it shouldn't.

"I'm just fine here, finding me." -VH. I'm also just fine here, wearing one of my favorite shirts.

  I felt confident and comfortable on Sunday while I was relaxing before my radio show; I was wearing one of my favorite shirts and wanted to put effort into my hair and makeup despite the fact I'd be sitting in the studio alone for the majority of the night. After embracing the warmth from the sun and snapping a few photos, I smiled as I reviewed the shots. Damn, I don't look too bad. I look genuinely happy and not that weird-looking. Why can't I look like this every day?

  Music is an integral part of my self-discovery and self-acceptance this year, especially trying to find myself and find out why my life goals have kept me in Ohio for two years. Music actually has always played a role in my identity, just unconsciously and I'm now looking back and discovering the ways in which it did all those years ago

  I've met a lot of wicked-awesome individuals, in real life and online, who (I hope) label me as an acquaintance, at the least; they have taken the time to discuss nearly anything and everything about the musicians we mutually enjoy. They should know I'm thankful and appreciative of their time and friendship. TY, everyone.

  Nothing ground-breaking here; I wanted to be vulnerable. That's all.

Goodbye summer, hello tears.

August 17, 2017

  Despite a long scroll of new music I needed to try out, I played my Spotify current go-to tunes playlist during my seven-hour drive. I started to tap to the rhythm of "All I Was Looking For Was You" by Fastball (side note: this song has the best song lyric ever written, Midnight on heartbreak avenue, all twisted up on bitches brew). Out of nowhere, tears and heartache engulfed me. Singing along is a must while driving, but I just couldn't get the words out; it felt as if I was an asthmatic attempting to run a 6-minute mile. This part of the song especially got me ugly-crying:

Running away from everything that looks like me. I heard a voice. I saw your face, it set me free.

 For some reason, I thought it was a good idea to continue with Fastball's "Dark Street" in an attempt to get everything that I was feeling out of my system. It sure did help the flow of tears.

Come on down and never leave my sky again. Shine your love light, love light, love light...

  I then finished the cry-fest with Colin Hay's "The Best In Me," and my previous post sheds light on the emotional performance of this song at the most recent concert. I approached the toll-booth attendant with my sunglasses on even though I could care less about whether or not he sees my worn face. As I drove away and turned the up the volume, the crying came back. Good grief!

A magical night of tunes with Colin Hay.

August 13, 2017.

  How does Colin have the ability to take my breath away but also help give me the will-power and strength to breathe?

  There are truly no words to emphasize or describe how remarkable and unreal this show felt. With my family sitting in the chairs on the side, I took this one opportunity to stand at the stage; from what I've noticed with Colin's venues, this is rare. Never have I been able to watch a performance this close to Colin. We were so close, we could hear his voice as he stepped away from the mic to finish Maggie.

  Colin has a large collection of songs, so I expected not to hear many of my favorites because they're usually not the typical show-pleasers. Even so, I held on to one of the newer melodies.

  While my new friend and I were taking a photo with Colin in the background as he tuned his guitar for the next song, I suddenly heard him strumming the first notes of The Best In Me. I knew -- instantly -- it was the song.

Shadows in the night, danger is all I know, so difficult to let go. If I close my eyes and breathe, gets easier to believe, and you bring out the best in me. 

Sheila caught me on
the brink of ugly crying. 

  I lost my ability to breathe, gasping in between each line. I can't remember the last time I was overcome with such a connection when a song was playing a mere few feet away from me. As he played the song, I felt as if he knew I wanted to hear it... I can't explain it. There was a force between the two of us; no one else was in this circular current. This was the first time I shared this what felt like one-on-one energy with Colin.

In your reflection I can see that you bring out the best in me.

  After he finished the song, all I can recall is looking at my friends, completely awe-struck of how truly magical those four minutes were for me. I exclaimed how I didn't think he'd play my favorite from Fierce Mercy, attempting to keep composure. I was fighting for air.

  All the positive energy, joy, love, were too much for me to handle. It felt unreal.

  Which song followed? I can't recall at this point; I attempted to sing along but was still near-hyperventilating due to the over-excitement. I hope every person gets to make a connection just as I did with a musician at least once in her or her lifetime.

Yeah, you help set me free, and you bring out the best in me.

It's never too early to say thank you.

July 22, 2017.

  The loss of Chester Bennington was another shock and sad news story to read Thursday morning. My fandom for Linkin Park was more during my preteen years, during the time I first started to struggle with balancing life, friendships, and mental health (which I didn't quite realize at the time). His death flooded my mind with two specific thoughts: the reasons why I listened to Linkin Park and how both sad and scary it is that people don't have the ability to reach out for help or have the support system to try to seek the right resources for them. I still have yet to lose a close family member or friend, so some of this worry was also triggered. I attempted to make it clear to my Facebook friends that I am always available as a listener for those who need it and to remind them that mental health is very important.

Chester Bennington's most recent Twitter profile photo.

  After having a few personal and professional struggles this week, reliving the negative junior high years was definitely not needed. Even so, I still felt the need to scroll through my Facebook feed to read how my "friends" were responding to Chester's death. One post, in summary, stated that we shouldn't wait until the person has passed to share our admiration and love or to say thank you. This reminded me of part of my life goal, to meet the well-known musicians, filmmakers, authors, and actors who have been positive influences in my life. I've been lucky enough to do this many times this year with musicians. And, I got to do it again last night.

New music, new obsession: Fastball.

June 29, 2017.

  I said this at some point this year: this is the year of music. Last year was the year of spending money in order to conquer that fear. Seeing my original favorites Colin (happy birthday!) and Vertical Horizon - and now some recent newly-found bands - multiple times in the same year is a reality. I've seen Colin twice (back-to-back shows) so far and have two more shows lined up.

... you could show me a whole new world. We could stay up all night 'cause you never know what could happen.

Maryland and Virginia. Can you spot me in the top left photo?

  As crazy as it may seem, I saw Vertical Horizon on tour with Fastball and Everclear twice and with Blues Traveler once, all within eight days, in three different states. Though I recommend attending multiple shows in a single year, be ready for the withdraw and a yearning to attend more; I could easily take a month off and follow a band throughout the country. Not only is it a great way to meet fans and make new friends, the sceneries are breathtaking. The United States is beautiful. Making the last-minute decision to go to Maryland and Virginia on my own was the most spontaneous, adventurous thing I have ever done. It was worth the lack of sleep and 13 or so hours of driving.

What being a fan is really about.

June 12, 2017

  It's not about getting your photo taken with or of your favorite artist or band to impress others or to have something to boast. It's about living in the moment and creating a connection during the performance. Capturing a single or few photos is sufficient enough to recall one of many thrilling days you'll experience while you're here. You don't have to share the experience verbally or show with a photo to prove it happened. Take a single photo and then live in the precious time you're given.

  It's not about meeting the artist or band to get that photo or autograph. It's about having the chance to connect, relate stories, and ultimately binding and strengthening the circle with an unbreakable bow. It's about giving thanks for the sacrifices it takes to create music and to tour: being vulnerable to compose the music, forcing oneself to dark and light places of the soul in order to articulate haunting lyrics or instrumental notes, and being absent during monumental moments in family members' lives.

  It's not about proving you can afford the VIP treatment. It's about going the extra mile to invest in the artist's or band's craft; what you gain from it is invaluable and truly can't be bought. The positive impact music provides isn't a single, tightly-pressed package you find on a store shelf. If you have the means to do so, then great! If you don't, that's okay too; appreciation is often found in the simple, little things, such as writing thank-you letters or dropping off the artist's or band's favorite food!

  It's not about indulging in only the one-on-one time you get. It's about completing full circles as a group and between you and the other fans. Watching another fan's smile - sometimes even tears of joy - during a meet and greet is a beautiful moment to witness. The joy others experience can easily make you joyful, too. Don't be afraid to start conversations with other fans; everyone is already part of an exclusive, special group! Don't lose sight of your family or friends being in this with you, too. If you're blessed with that opportunity, seize it.

  It's not about proving you're the biggest fan by parading the plethora of memorabilia you own, memorizing all the lyrics of every song and never missing a beat, or having a tattoo dedicated to the artist or band. It's about expressing yourself in the ways that feel most right, doing what makes you feel good and things that respect the music and people associated with it, following your heart, and deciding the right time - if at all - to visibly show the fandom to others. Who's to say there are right or wrong ways to show you're a fan? There isn't one definition of how that looks.

  Never be ashamed to admit you're a fan - "just a fan" or "a confidently committed and passionate fan" - of an artist or a band. Heck, this holds true for sports fans, movie fans... fans of anything! Truth is, you're never the only one. No matter your level of fandom, the circle isn't complete without you.

The best Vertical Horizon concert experience to date.

June 4, 2017

  It's officially summer concert season! Looks like this fan-girl is going to splurge not just this summer, but this whole year. Ahh!

HOME Bar, June 2, 2017.

  Like the crazy woman I've been more and more since the start of 2017, I decided to go to two Vertical Horizon shows -- including one VIP package -- within three days. Was it worth it? Definitely!

Come spring, come baseball and baseball movies!

May 27, 2017

  I've changed the URL to my blog to "mudanemandaa", as I did with the rest of my social media. Being a Muskie will never change. Despite my tendencies to follow routines and order as much as possible, change is sometimes wanted, needed and totally okay. In honor of this post being baseball-centric, here are some softball-related photos of yours truly back in the day:

 

  Yeah, you can clearly tell I loved the sport.. ha. I don't have any action photos with me; let's hope the old man keeps those somewhere safe back in Illinois.

I'm still going to love Alan and 'love today.'

May 7, 2017

  The other morning at the gym, I had a random thought to check Alan's IMDb page to see what films or appearances were in the works. A brief moment later, I had to stop what I was doing. Oh yeah. Holy shit, I said to myself with a trembling grin, now that's a depressing, disappointing thought.

"Don't tease me about my hobbies...

May 2, 2017

... I don't tease you about being an asshole." - Mark, in the movie Garden State.

A poem, titled: Don't Tease Me About My Hobbies

Don't tease me about my hobbies.
It's hard enough as it is,
  to let you into my life
  to let you bear witness to my insecurities
  to let you see how the anxious-ghosts control me.

Don't tease me about my hobbies.
These hobbies are not true to definition,
  not quite fun and games
  not quite leisure-like activities
  not quite my choice, if were able to have one.

Don't tease me about my hobbies.
My struggles are not for your entertainment,
  the decision on how monthly income is spent
  the decision to make use of my already low social energy
  the decision of my food intake beyond its obsessive-compulsive routine.

Don't tease me about my hobbies.
The past haunts me to follow these pursuits,
  my fear of not having money to spend
  my fear food inflict sickness I attempt to prevent
  my fear I'm disappointing you all professionally and personally.

Don't tease me about my hobbies.
I'm the only who has to embrace the routine,
  getting through the day with an imposter's smile
  getting through all my obligations finding an unrushed breath
  getting through the what-ifs of tomorrow every fucking day.

Tease me about my hobbies.
Adding another anxiety isn't a concern at this point,
  like another dent to a bashed-up car
  like another ghost in line with a mafia of them trailing my thoughts
  like another match in the flame keeping a boil to my panic-attack cauldron.

Tease me about my hobbies.
I have to live through them
  no
  matter
  what.

Unofficial National Poetry Day: Haiku poems by an anxious person.

March 21, 2017

  Someone on Twitter decided it was National Poetry Day; I can't find credible sources to support this. But, I thought I'd share a few Haiku poems anyway. I wrote a few when I was feeling anxious and was too afraid to ask a friend to listen and guide me out of the dark a few weeks back.

  One of the major struggles I have with GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder) is that asking for someone to help me with a situation or just a friend when I'm down is a battle, a constant fear. It takes time to just build the courage to even ask. It's not about the shame I have for admitting I have a problem; I ask for help on a daily basis at work when I'm in a rut or don't have an answer.

        Trapped, lonely, and sad.
     I just need you... or you, now--
  but never say so.

Hey, don't ignore mercy or you'll be 'the last to know.'

March 17, 2017

  I've been listening to Fierce Mercy every day since the first show I attended last week. I didn't listen to the album more than twice prior because I wanted to get familiar with the songs through hearing them live first; there's something about hearing an unfamiliar track in this setting. Not only is live music authentic, but you naturally allow yourself to block out your surrounds and be one with the artist and tune. Example: when I saw Colin in 2015 showcasing his album, Next Year People, "Waiting in the Rain" was an out-of-body experience because I still didn't know the song in its entirety and I let it take over me in that moment. It's to-date in my top 5 best Colin songs,

Just some highlights of my evenings with Colin Hay.

March 11, 2017

 There is A LOT I'd like to say about my trip; I've had a lot on my mind about the experience and how I want to continue reaching my life's purpose. Maybe I've discovered it on this trip? I can't say for sure, but I know that I really enjoy sharing my passions with others, meeting people who share the same passion, witnessing pure joy, and reading and hearing stories about anything and everything, through any medium.

'Party on, Wayne!' A celebration of Wayne's World.

February 7, 2017

  Even though I'm one who is usually in bed by 9 p.m., I was just leaving the theater after seeing Wayne's World for the first time on the big screen. Any chance to see a film I wasn't alive or old enough to see on this scale is one I'll attempt to do. One of those opportunities was tonight. Wayne's World celebrates its 25th anniversary this year.

Wayne, Garth: [to Alice Cooper] We're not worthy! We're not worthy!

Garth: We're scum!

Wayne: We suck!

  Wayne and Garth were a big part of my teen years. Despite being only months old when the film first hit theaters, I was blessed to have a father who cultured me in good entertainment that was before my time. TV wise, it was Monty Python and Saturday Night Live. Both shows will also hold a special spot in my heart.

'Waiting For My Real Life' film speaks volumes. I LOVED it.

February 2, 2017.

  Groundhog Day! Did the little critter see his/her shadow? I don't care; I live in the Midwest where the weather will fluctuate despite what the groundhog "says."

  I've spent some time mourning the loss of my Colin Hay wine bottle that I purchased at the first show my dad and I attended two years ago this month. Enough of that, though, because I can always order another when I see him again. And, if I read the website correctly, I can easily order a custom label and request the winery to use the same label that was used two years ago. It might be a stretch and cost extra money, but it's worth a shot. Also, I'm going to do something creative with the remains. I'd love ideas if anyone has a few, or just one!

One year later, and I'm still missing Alan Rickman.

January 14, 2017

  This time last year, I was in a haze, going through my Thursday trying to comprehend what happened that morning. Alan Rickman died, and I was devastated, first confused and unsure how to respond. Was it a hoax? Who would joke about such a thing? But, no, it was true. Alan really did pass away from cancer. From that day forward, I felt - and continue to feel - at complete random times, a sudden sting in my chest, confusion, and an indescribable urge to burst into crying.

  There are many people out there who don't understand how average people get so caught up in "celebrity" deaths. First, Alan wasn't a "celebrity" in my terms. A celebrity is well-known for little to no real reason other than family connection and/or money. Celebrities had their lives on display and are open books. Alan wasn't an open book similar to how so many actors are these days. He was private and kept his personal life with his friends and family within those people only, and I completely respect his lifestyle and choices.