My youth sucked. I’ll be honest. I had to be older than my years and I missed most of the teenage adventures that were earmarked for me. I failed to have the experiences most of you probably did – I never really went through that whole keg-stand/funneling/shot-gunning beers, falling in love and going to prom with your sweetheart thing. I was busy being the designated driver, the school counselor, and otherwise keeping to myself so I couldn’t be hurt emotionally more than I already had been. It wasn’t rotten, it just wasn’t easy. I’m thankful for it just the same…for the lessons it taught me and for it having made me who I am.

This, among countless other reasons, is why you’ll find the following objects within arms reach in my apartment: a Rubiks cube, a magic 8 ball, a Lite Brite, and a lava lamp. I burn incense that smells of Hawaiian Plumeria, I keep the windows open wide, I have plants and books and candles tucked anywhere they’ll fit. I play music too loudly for my neighbors taste, music that is almost always tied to a very specific place, time and memory. When the mood strikes me I eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches stuffed with Doritos or cookies for dinner. I buy myself flowers on a regular basis and take no shame in dating myself. Some days, I don’t make my bed. It’s staggering how many new people I meet that confess they’re still 18 in their minds. Me too. I hope it lasts forever – for all of us.

It may not be dawning of The Age of Aquarius, but it’s MY TIME. I don’t have a second to spare, no time to waste on feeling anything other than joy. I have no room for heartache, for sadness, for people who bring anything but laughter, smiles, and some semblance of respect based friendship and love to my world. I can’t and won’t allow people in that have the potential make me feel badly (intentionally or unintentionally), and I freely and liberally celebrate those who have made the cut. Who have kind, generous souls and see the good. I do my best to reciprocate. Sometimes I fall short, but I try.

There’s no time for bullshit – no putting off the things you’ve always wanted to do but “didn’t have time” for. No hiding behind words you want to say, behind doing the brave thing instead of the easy thing. For waiting for life to happen.

The bottom line is this: you can never have enough cowbell, and a whoopee cushion will never NOT make me laugh.

It’s not quite Wikipedia, but it’s something. I swear, I’m really not this egomaniacal…this sort of thing just cracks me up. Props to C-Dawg as always for finding new ways to slay me.

I exist in the Urban Dictionary.

1. maigh

Synonymous with the alpha member or the most skilled member of a group. Can be used as a noun or as an adjective. Used when one has been worked or one is the obvious mack
Did you see that boy shred that pipe, he is so maigh!

Be careful yo, one wrong step and you’re going to get maighed.

It’s been two weeks, and I’m ok. I had the shakes, trouble sleeping, sweating, you know, the usual detox / withdrawal symptoms. I seem to have stabilized.

My name is Maigh, and I’m an addict. And you know what else? I gave up TV for Lent.

No shit.

I’m going to turn into a Cheese Danish and a Grande Mocha if I’m not careful.

Ok, it’s not so much hookie as a company holiday.

I’m adapting my mindset on it though and plan to go through the day as though I called in sick.

It’s the little things.

Dejie’s show was brilliant last night, though Amanda (aka Stinky D) and I agreed that the front row center with the Kit Kat Girls and their skimpy outfits and risqué choreography may have offered us just a smidge more than we had bargained for. If nothing else we can safely and accurately report the waxing status of each of the girls – and boys.

Regardless of feeling we’d seen more than we should at the theatre, the show was amazing. It might also have been a good idea to have researched what the basic premise of the show was – I was horrified and feeling incredibly naive when a swastika was introduced as part of a characters costume.

Dejie knocked me flat. My girl was flawless and only real/believable actress in the entire production. Her scenes were by far and away the high point of the performance even with my bias aside. Her voice was clear, rich and steady – she tore it up, belted it out, gave credibility to her character and left me with goosebumps.

Here’s what some other published folks said – I’m afraid I don’t have the sources handy as I asked Dej to compile them quickly for me last week.

“… the production’s finest moment offered by Dejie Johnson as Fraulein Schneider, the boarding house owner who ends her relationship with a Jewish suitor. Johnson’s stage presence is strong and her portrayal is honest, sensitive and determined.”

“Dejie Johnson was far better than the person who did Fraulein on Broadway”

“Fraulein Schneider made the show for me. She is outstanding.”

“Fraulein Schneider & Herr Schultz (Dejie Johnson & Michael Shikany) – I had to pair these two together, because TOGETHER they were my favorite of the entire show. I was dumbfounded at the accents, the character development, and the interaction between them. I don’t know what else to say, besides OUTSTANDING.”

Support your neighborhood arts, the show is running until March 13th and is well worth the minimalist ticket price.