|
|
The soundtrack is out!
Don't forget... Ruston Way is on the front, Strawberry Hill is on the inside, and the Space Needle is on the back! Rock on.
Woot! Woot! Woot!
Go to:
Buy it on CD Baby
Check out the front and back.....
Rear View Mirror is an autobiography that reads like a high-quality chick lit work of fiction. It is the amazing story of a woman's journey to find family wherever life takes her.
After the tragic loss of her mother and the later loss of her true love, she ends up in a painful marriage that results in the real love of her life, her son. Written in the first-person, you often find yourself feeling exactly how Cindy feels in those pivotal moments of her life. I found myself laughing, crying, and feeling just like I had found a friend in this book.
We are all often haunted by those "what-ifs" that might have been, and the author's pursuit to settle it once and for all is simply magical. Anyone who has ever pondered on that one moment that might have changed your life should read this book. You will be glad you did.
***Patsy Salyers-Baugh
's Blog
2008 Jan 10 Writer’s Digest 15th Annual International Self-Published Book Awards Commentary Sheet: Author: Cindy Callinsky Title: Rear View Mirror Category: Nonfiction Judge: 42 Judge’s commentary: What did you like best about this book? What a hoot! “Rear View Mirror” is a riot. The author’s voice is unmistakable, and her story at times is unbelievable. It is also moving. Callinsky is in command of her narrative, and her characters, who come to life through vibrant description and conversation. The book is approachable and engaging – I believe it has the chance to garner wide appeal, if refined and vigorously marketed. The cover is colorful and eye-catching, and the author was wise to include blurbs of recommendation on the back to lock in potential readers’ attention. Overall, an exciting entry. How can the author improve this book? A couple things to consider: 1) This book could benefit from some design polish. Inside, the sans-serif body text after a while is hard on the eyes. Reader usability tests repeatedly demonstrate serif fonts are the way to go for large chunks of text. The author might consult a typologist before pressing out a subsequent edition. Outside, the font contrast on the front cover is poor. That’s too bad, because the colorful cover image drew my attention write away. However, the title and, especially, the author’s name are difficult to read at a distance. 2) The text was solidly edited, but I did notice a few more typos than I expect to see in a work of this quality. Running the manuscript by a professional copy editor couldn’t hurt. On a scale of 1 to 5, with 1 meaning “poor” and 5 meaning “excellent,” please evaluate the following: Structure and organization: 3 Grammar: 4 Cover design: 2 Based on the fact that this is my first book, and I did everything from beginning to end all by myself… I’m extremely happy with this. I couldn’t afford a professional copy editor, still can’t. I think Bri did a pretty darn good job cleaning it up considering what she had to work with.
Anyway, there it is. I’m trying hard not to beat myself up, to focus on the positives, and learn from the negatives.
Now I’m off to figure out what the difference between sans-serif and serif font is. Heee heeee! I wonder what a typologists runs? (O;
Oh, yeah… I’m currently working with William Hilliard on a new novel about some down-home West Virginia boys. I’m really fired up about this one. Go Martinsburg!
Peace, love, and kindness.
Cindy Callinsky
2007 Sep 15 Okay, so I mailed the script off to the Movie Script Contest about fifteen minutes ago. I'm excited, nervous, and feel a little sick to my stomach. It is a true first draft but I have to admit that I'm hopeful. I hope they don't think I'm and idiot and that they have good things to say as well as helpful, constructive feedback. Being my first time, I'm sure that I am lacking in many places, but I think I added things that could only come from me. I'm gonna take a couple days to veg and then I have to get ready for the Wise Fall Fling. I have books to order, t-shirts to screen, and an eye catching sign to make. Then, I'm gonna pick up where I left off on the second book which I am quickly seeing as a script. Rock on I say. Thanks again, Mike. I owe ya big time. Your idea has created more possibilities in my minds eye. ~Cindy Callinsky Orange Juice, Vodka, Zig-Zag's Now officially registered with the WGAE Woot Woot Woot   2007 May 12 So I was thinking tonight. What do I know? Not much of anything. HA! I could try to blog about Steam Cell Research or something important but I figure everyone has different views. What would make mine so damn important? Then it hit me… Pizza! I love Pizza! It’s not controversial and it’s yummy. (O: I have had Pizza in many different states and even in another country. I like all kinds of Pizza but I only adore buying pizza from a couple of places. If I’m a connoisseur of anything it’s gotta be pizza. If you’re a pineapple/Canadian bacon person this is sooo not your pizza blog. If you’re a mushroom, meat, or spinach lover… read on. I have two favorite places to get a killer pizza. The runner up goes to the Mountain Tavern on 56th and Pacific. Oh yeah, it’s in Tacoma, Washington. I’m not even sure if the Mountain Tavern is still open. If it is, you have to check out their pizza. Just thinking about it makes my mouth water. The pizza they serve is stacked high with toppings (mushrooms) and lots of cheese. But, what makes them stand out is whatever secret seasoning they use. I know they use fresh ingredients, too. I used to stand around back and watch the cook prepare them in the hopes of catching a glimpse of that secret. Whatever they use gives it just enough kick to make you slow down and savor each bite. While you’re there you can play a game of darts, dump some money in the jukebox or play Pull tabs. First place goes to Giovanni’s Pizza. This little business is housed in a trailer and is located in Jenkins, Kentucky. Yes, you heard me right. It’s the best thing to ever come out of Jenkins. Now, you don’t just order anything from Giovanni’s. You have to get the Pepperoni Pounder. I have personally labeled this “The Gut Buster”. What makes their pizza number one in my book is the combination of old style pepperoni they use and the spices. They also don’t overload the pizza with a lot of sauce. I can’t stand that. If I wanted to taste mostly sauce I would eat spaghetti. Hello? Now, the pepperoni’s they cover their “Pounder’s” with are small, probably half the size of tradition pepperoni. They have kick all by themselves. Then, they throw their spices on it and you’ve got yourself a pizza worth blogging about. They use a lot of cheese, too. Napkins are a necessity with Giovanni’s because the grease will run down your hand. They are well aware of this and will send you off with napkins in hand and a terrific conversation to dwell on. You’ve seen the movie Mystic Pizza? Well, Giovanni’s pizza is always what I imagined the pizza to be like coming out of Mystic, Connecticut. WOW! Now, the one thing about the Pepperoni Pounder that you have to remember is that the older style pepperoni requires a longer cooking time. That means when you pick your Pounder up it will look well-done. This is how it should look. It’s not burned… just well cooked. Also, you best bring cash. They don’t take credit/debit cards and I would guess that they only take checks from people they know. You can get the Pepperoni Pound for around twelve dollars and it’s a whopper at fifteen inches wide. You can easily bust your gut and your waistline for a couple of days. It’s very good reheated, too. For those of you that don’t get out often, the best frozen pizza goes to California Pizza Kitchen. Not just any of them. It goes to “WHITE” which is a spinach/four cheese pizza. What makes this pizza stand out? The perfect balance of ingredient’s and the way they package them. They are very close to being air sealed and are well worth paying for. I would eat their “WHITE” pizza over ninety-nine percent of all other pizza (fresh or frozen). It’s very easy on the waistline, too. One-third of a pizza is less than three hundred calories. Wham, Bam, thank you, Ma’am! Hell, it’s hard to eat a “good” baby spinach salad for less than that. Out listening to The Cult’s “She Sells Sanctuary” ~Cindy Callinsky  2007 May 05 I love Tacoma for:
♥VW’s,
♥places to go,
♥people to see,
♥and the smell of the bay.
♥Never Never Land,
♥Johnny's Seasoning,
♥Ruston Way,
♥the Japanese Gardens,
♥Beluga Whales,
♥Five Mile Drive,
♥the tunnel,
♥the smoke towers,
♥Almond Rocha,
♥and Fireman’s Park
Yes, it’s true.
The Waterfront always smells good to me.
The connection that I felt with almost everyone there was acceptance!
I also miss the friends that I never knew I had until I was 3,000 miles away.
I am screaming, “Hells Kitchen!” right now. I’ve never been… yet, I so long to go.
Put me in the Pit, baby! I soooo hope that you will be there, Jacob.
Send me back, Universe. PLEASE!
I will feel so at home that the people who know me now will not know what to do with me.
Then, I will be the child and they will be the parent. It’s been a long time coming… “That’s all I have to say about that!”
Oh wait, Lucy… you so owe me. You know what? You will come to take care of me but once you get there you will never want to leave. Ever!
Honey, I will be doing you a favor, opening your vision up and all. You ain’t seen nothing until you’ve seen Tacoma!
~Cindy Callinsky on “About Tacoma”
I do hurt for home and I hope that you somehow feel it.
2007 Apr 27 My day started out shitty. Luckily, things turned out much better than I ever thought was possible. Thank you, God, the Universe, and Karma. Really! Thank you.
Because of this I thought I should make a list of the things that I love. After all, these are the things that get me out of a funk and most of them don’t cost a dime.
Things I love:
The sound of children’s laughter and seeing their tender smiles.
The feel of a bubble bath on my skin.
The feel of a running Harley between my legs (thank you David and Bill).
The smell of Sandalwood and/or Ylang Ylang.
Seeing Chicory growing wild on the side of the road.
Wildflower gardens.
Watching a movie on a rainy day while cuddled on the couch with John.
The first slice of a Pepperoni Pounder accompanied by an oil can of Fosters Beer.
Watching football on Sundays while sporting my L.T. jersey.
Pouring my heart out on paper.
Falling asleep with Odie sprawled out in my arms (which John is doing right now).
Cherylene’s sweet tea.
The flip flop of my stomach that comes from giving or receiving warm-fuzzies.
Dancing around the house like a mad woman while screaming the lyrics to a song.
Being in the pit of a concert.
The soft plunk you can hear from the sound of a guitar being strummed.
The throaty sound of a sax being played hard and deep.
The air you can hear rushing from the bell of a woodwind.
The beat you can absorb from well played drums.
The vibration you can feel from the radiating strings of a fiddle when the bow slides across and seeing the resin float like angel dust in sunlight.
The wind blowing through my hair.
Marry-anne’s baked salmon and pineapple upside-down cake.
Beer at Brownie’s with Lucy Lou.
Long drives with no destination.
Tumbleweeds and windmills.
Lazy afternoon naps when you know that you should be doing something more productive.
Spending time with elders while absorbing all of their life experiences (thank you Lester and Vic).
The feeling I get when speaking to friends and family that are far away.
The feeling I get when I think of home.
The goose bumps I get from a fabulous tune, a phrase or sometimes just the unknown.
Tanessa, I read some of your blogs yesterday. I really believe that is what allowed me to get out of my funk today and keep my chin up when in reality… originally, I felt so bad for a while that... well; I don’t even want to think about it.
I love all “The Secret” talk that you shared. I related to so many of your blogs that it freaked me out a little but it was so very cool. I instantly felt associated with you and felt a genuine connection to your words. In fact, tomorrow, I’m gonna print some of them out and post them to my cubical right next to the lyrics that Gene wrote for the novel.
You know what? I think you should just do it, girl. Go for it. You’ve got nothing to lose. You have good experiences and philosophies that should be shared. If someone can find a friend in your words you’ll succeed, even if it’s not in a monetary form. I found a friend, guidance, a gentle reminder in your words today when I needed it the most. It was your words that made me wipe the river of tears from my checks on the drive to my house and “get my shit together”. I felt so unbelievably alone and your words reminded me that we all have pain. I didn’t feel so alone anymore. I thank you for that!
In the big scheme of things that’s what life is about, right?
In my opinion, it’s not what I do for me but what I do for others even when it sometimes makes me feel… taken advantage of? I realize taking care of me comes first because if I don’t do that I can’t give of me to others. When I do feel like I’ve been… well, screwed, I go through my “getting over it” process, get back up, wipe my hands and knees off. Then, I simply keep going. It hurts but I’d rather hurt and have Karma on my side than to just stop caring. Surprisingly, hurt isn’t as painful as anger. Anger is always my first reaction.
Oh wait!
Things I love:
The feeling of my fathers arm draped around my shoulder!
Happy birthday pops!
Eighty-one and still playing fucking tennis. Absolutely unbelievable. You are another Noah Dearborn, I swear.
Last year around this time I was home. Home… what a sweet word to roll off the tongue. The kicker was that in addition to being able to be at my fathers eightieth birthday I got to go to the Seattle Weekly Music Awards. I so wish I was home right now. I will dream of it tonight, though.
Out listening to Mother Love Bone’s “Chloe”
2007 Apr 14 Oh, the confusion that unknowing brings.
Someone says right and I think they’re saying left.
It doesn’t matter what they try to express if they can’t just come out and say what they mean.
If I have to guess, I will no doubt conclude the opposite.
It really sucks because I know they mean more than what they say. Yet, I’m not a mind reader.
After the irritation of not being able to read their minds wears off, I feel bad.
See, by this time I have already spewed out my first reaction. No holding back, baby.
Sometimes I feel I should just lay back and never react. I should be a good little puppy and adore everyone without ever questioning them or getting upset.
The thing is that I do the things I do because I care, not the opposite. Although, I’m sure that everyone perceives the opposite.
As we dig ourselves deeper into misunderstandings and then repentance, we are missing the beautiful wooden sailboat that could be catching the wind, guiding us away to bliss.
Since when have people stopped being honest? When did we all stop communicating what we really feel?
Honest feelings aren’t always logical. See, that’s exactly what makes them honest. If we comb through them and take this out and that out, they aren’t our real feelings. They are edited to suit the other person or worse yet, society.
You know, I get really mad with the world. I get really mad with people. I get really mad with situations I get myself in.
I hurt, I love, I screw up, and I bleed when I’m cut. I am a person and my feelings run deep.
I was thinking about it today. I was looking back over the years and thinking about the music I really love. You know, most of the music these days really sucks. You know why? They all sound like they were edited by the FCC.
Say what you feel, what runs deep in your heart and soul. Say it how you want but don’t comb through it. If you do that, by the time we hear your words they will be so watered down that they will have no impact on anyone.
There is nothing wrong with feeling pain. There is nothing wrong with feeling love so deep you have no words to express it. There is nothing wrong with waking up and sometimes wishing that you hadn’t. That’s real life.
It’s full of love and pain. They come hand in hand. You can’t have one without the other. It’s the classic Yin and Yang.
~Cindy Callinsky
2007 Apr 14 Love is a brilliant pink sky,
The touch of a sweet smelling breeze.
Love is a moment when time stops,
You cherish what will soon be history.
Love is what we can’t truly express,
We can only envelop ourselves in it.
Love is the miracle of the world,
It is what makes us get up every day.
Love is the butterflies in your stomach,
It is the consoling of someone else’s tears.
Love is the sharing of our hearts,
In its core, spiritualism and trust runs deep.
To really love is to give your all,
Even at the cost of humiliation.
For, until we are willing to be humiliated,
We will never truly love.
~Cindy Callinsky
2007 Apr 14 Ahh… the incredible feeling of giving life. The peace of knowing that part of you will walk the earth long after you are gone. The special times that you will share cuddling with this new miniature human being that is sprouting from your innermost-being. The expanding waistline that continues to become bigger until you think it cannot possibly get anymore whale-ish. HA! You’re only three-quarters of the way there! Accompanying your expanding waistline every other part of your body plumps… no heat required. Then, you are privilege to the precious experience of your hormones going absolutely berserk. When it’s finally time to welcome your new, “One of a kind,” addition to the world, there is no fear, second thoughts, or questions… It’s all about, “Get this thing out of me! And, now!” After hours of pushing, grunting, and moaning… you are lucky if you can have a natural childbirth. In this day and age you would think they would have come up with something more humane than having a woman trying to push something that is the size of a turkey out a hole that is really not bigger than a well known, long, skinny, yellow fruit. I guess the humane part comes into play when they stick that long thick needle deep into your spine, grinding it around to get it into the prime spot. Instead of a mother wife looking after you… there are strangers looking at your private parts just waiting for something to shoot out of them. But, when it’s all said and done and all the gunk and shit is cleaned up, it truly is spiritual. When your baby is finally caressed lovingly in your arms you feel a sense of euphoria of the likes you have never experienced before. If you only have one child, you will never experience it again. If you never have a child... you will never understand. This is one of the few things that you will wonder, “How did I make it through that?” Yet, you’ll long to be part of again. It is where the beginning and the end absolutely make up for everything in the middle, no matter how bad you felt back then. ~Cindy Callinsky  2007 Apr 14 4/14/2007 5:30 AM It’s 5:30 in the morning and I awoke to an extremely vivid dream… a color one at that which is pretty rare for me. A lot of people think they dream in color when in fact it’s uncommon. Anyway, when your dream in color the color sort of hollers out to you from the dream. If you don’t distinctly see color stand out so vivid that you can’t help but remember it then you probably aren’t dreaming in color. I’ve only dreamt in color twice. One of the two dreams is a reoccurring dream about a flower field that I’m running through. So, I walk into work and I’m headed to a different desk. I’m over where they have wanted me to move for a while. On my desk is a white paper bag that’s the same size as a bag that would be commonly used to pack a child’s lunch. I look down into this bag and it seems to have a bottomless pit because there are so many things flowing out of it. First I see a bright bouquet of flowers in bright yellows and deep browns. The bouquet is oozing all of my favorite colors and is of the wildflower variety. I’m feeling an immense sense of love because I can’t remember the last time someone has given me flowers. Looking back over time, I think of the flowers I received when I had John, but that’s not correct. Cole bought me roses once but see… that didn’t come to me, the brightly colored bouquets came to mind first. I dig through the bag more to try and figure out who the gift giver is. I pull out some goofy things like beef Jerky, and other types of beef that do not require refrigeration. It’s a gag gift and it’s from Elmo. The gifts are based off some type of funny conversation we had earlier in the week because today is Friday. No doubt the conversation revolved around my lack of a true relationship because the non-refrigeration gifts somehow remind me that I need something that won’t spoil. See, the meat represents my lack of a permanent man and the non-refrigeration represents how long this lack has followed me. There’s no note or card attached because he knows I will know the gift is from him. I’m crackin’ up. Then, Jenny comes over and sits next to me. She starts telling me a story, “Brandy, you know that I met this musician one time and I feel head over heals. Man, I was in bad shape. My mom kicked me out of the house, I was partying too much, lived in my garage for a while and then ended up homeless at one point. I just have to tell you to be careful” Then all of the sudden I hear sweet music and it’s loud. It’s so loud and real that I immediately know… it’s not coming through one of the many sound systems that are scattered throughout the call center. He’s here and he’s playing for me. It sounds so real that if I didn’t know any better I would think that he was standing next to me in my bedroom, playing that sax while I sleep. I turn around and see him gracing a platform in the middle of the call center but against a wall. He’s beneath our light-link board. He’s grinning softly looking back at me. I enjoy the warmth that comes over me and then laugh at Elmo. I won’t be needing that dried up beef after all. ~Cindy Callinsky  2007 Apr 14 I have this need to write tonight. For some reason I find myself doing a positive, neutral and negative list. Positives: - We get each other. It sounds stupid but it’s true. We can talk for hours on end even though neither of us likes speaking on the phone. In fact, when speaking to the other we find ourselves not wanting to end the conversation.
- Even though I’m far from Cindy Crawford you don’t seem to mind.
- We compliment each other so well that it is truly scary. Hell. If I can’t do it, you can. If you can’t, I can. I swear we are two pieces of a puzzle that fit damn near perfectly.
- We seem to share many of our truest and deepest passions.
- I miss you when I can’t talk to you in some form or fashion. What the hell’s with that anyway? I’m so not clingy.
- There’s sexual tension and we have never been formally introduced. It’s definitely not about appearance because I’ve never seen you in person. How can you possibly have this affect on me? You’re better than chocolate, I swear.
Neutrals: Negatives: - You’re hearts not available for the takin’. That sucks because mine is finally available. Hell, it has been so many years that I don’t have enough fingers to figure out how many “so many” is.
- Before this dream ends in a train wreck with my heart crushed under wheels, I have to know… Do you ever play that sax naked?
~Cindy Callinsky 
|
's Blog
2008 Jan 10 Writer’s Digest 15th Annual International Self-Published Book Awards Commentary Sheet: Author: Cindy Callinsky Title: Rear View Mirror Category: Nonfiction Judge: 42 Judge’s commentary: What did you like best about this book? What a hoot! “Rear View Mirror” is a riot. The author’s voice is unmistakable, and her story at times is unbelievable. It is also moving. Callinsky is in command of her narrative, and her characters, who come to life through vibrant description and conversation. The book is approachable and engaging – I believe it has the chance to garner wide appeal, if refined and vigorously marketed. The cover is colorful and eye-catching, and the author was wise to include blurbs of recommendation on the back to lock in potential readers’ attention. Overall, an exciting entry. How can the author improve this book? A couple things to consider: 1) This book could benefit from some design polish. Inside, the sans-serif body text after a while is hard on the eyes. Reader usability tests repeatedly demonstrate serif fonts are the way to go for large chunks of text. The author might consult a typologist before pressing out a subsequent edition. Outside, the font contrast on the front cover is poor. That’s too bad, because the colorful cover image drew my attention write away. However, the title and, especially, the author’s name are difficult to read at a distance. 2) The text was solidly edited, but I did notice a few more typos than I expect to see in a work of this quality. Running the manuscript by a professional copy editor couldn’t hurt. On a scale of 1 to 5, with 1 meaning “poor” and 5 meaning “excellent,” please evaluate the following: Structure and organization: 3 Grammar: 4 Cover design: 2 Based on the fact that this is my first book, and I did everything from beginning to end all by myself… I’m extremely happy with this. I couldn’t afford a professional copy editor, still can’t. I think Bri did a pretty darn good job cleaning it up considering what she had to work with.
Anyway, there it is. I’m trying hard not to beat myself up, to focus on the positives, and learn from the negatives.
Now I’m off to figure out what the difference between sans-serif and serif font is. Heee heeee! I wonder what a typologists runs? (O;
Oh, yeah… I’m currently working with William Hilliard on a new novel about some down-home West Virginia boys. I’m really fired up about this one. Go Martinsburg!
Peace, love, and kindness.
Cindy Callinsky
2007 Sep 15 Okay, so I mailed the script off to the Movie Script Contest about fifteen minutes ago. I'm excited, nervous, and feel a little sick to my stomach. It is a true first draft but I have to admit that I'm hopeful. I hope they don't think I'm and idiot and that they have good things to say as well as helpful, constructive feedback. Being my first time, I'm sure that I am lacking in many places, but I think I added things that could only come from me. I'm gonna take a couple days to veg and then I have to get ready for the Wise Fall Fling. I have books to order, t-shirts to screen, and an eye catching sign to make. Then, I'm gonna pick up where I left off on the second book which I am quickly seeing as a script. Rock on I say. Thanks again, Mike. I owe ya big time. Your idea has created more possibilities in my minds eye. ~Cindy Callinsky Orange Juice, Vodka, Zig-Zag's Now officially registered with the WGAE Woot Woot Woot 2007 May 12 So I was thinking tonight. What do I know? Not much of anything. HA! I could try to blog about Steam Cell Research or something important but I figure everyone has different views. What would make mine so damn important? Then it hit me… Pizza! I love Pizza! It’s not controversial and it’s yummy. (O: I have had Pizza in many different states and even in another country. I like all kinds of Pizza but I only adore buying pizza from a couple of places. If I’m a connoisseur of anything it’s gotta be pizza. If you’re a pineapple/Canadian bacon person this is sooo not your pizza blog. If you’re a mushroom, meat, or spinach lover… read on. I have two favorite places to get a killer pizza. The runner up goes to the Mountain Tavern on 56th and Pacific. Oh yeah, it’s in Tacoma, Washington. I’m not even sure if the Mountain Tavern is still open. If it is, you have to check out their pizza. Just thinking about it makes my mouth water. The pizza they serve is stacked high with toppings (mushrooms) and lots of cheese. But, what makes them stand out is whatever secret seasoning they use. I know they use fresh ingredients, too. I used to stand around back and watch the cook prepare them in the hopes of catching a glimpse of that secret. Whatever they use gives it just enough kick to make you slow down and savor each bite. While you’re there you can play a game of darts, dump some money in the jukebox or play Pull tabs. First place goes to Giovanni’s Pizza. This little business is housed in a trailer and is located in Jenkins, Kentucky. Yes, you heard me right. It’s the best thing to ever come out of Jenkins. Now, you don’t just order anything from Giovanni’s. You have to get the Pepperoni Pounder. I have personally labeled this “The Gut Buster”. What makes their pizza number one in my book is the combination of old style pepperoni they use and the spices. They also don’t overload the pizza with a lot of sauce. I can’t stand that. If I wanted to taste mostly sauce I would eat spaghetti. Hello? Now, the pepperoni’s they cover their “Pounder’s” with are small, probably half the size of tradition pepperoni. They have kick all by themselves. Then, they throw their spices on it and you’ve got yourself a pizza worth blogging about. They use a lot of cheese, too. Napkins are a necessity with Giovanni’s because the grease will run down your hand. They are well aware of this and will send you off with napkins in hand and a terrific conversation to dwell on. You’ve seen the movie Mystic Pizza? Well, Giovanni’s pizza is always what I imagined the pizza to be like coming out of Mystic, Connecticut. WOW! Now, the one thing about the Pepperoni Pounder that you have to remember is that the older style pepperoni requires a longer cooking time. That means when you pick your Pounder up it will look well-done. This is how it should look. It’s not burned… just well cooked. Also, you best bring cash. They don’t take credit/debit cards and I would guess that they only take checks from people they know. You can get the Pepperoni Pound for around twelve dollars and it’s a whopper at fifteen inches wide. You can easily bust your gut and your waistline for a couple of days. It’s very good reheated, too. For those of you that don’t get out often, the best frozen pizza goes to California Pizza Kitchen. Not just any of them. It goes to “WHITE” which is a spinach/four cheese pizza. What makes this pizza stand out? The perfect balance of ingredient’s and the way they package them. They are very close to being air sealed and are well worth paying for. I would eat their “WHITE” pizza over ninety-nine percent of all other pizza (fresh or frozen). It’s very easy on the waistline, too. One-third of a pizza is less than three hundred calories. Wham, Bam, thank you, Ma’am! Hell, it’s hard to eat a “good” baby spinach salad for less than that. Out listening to The Cult’s “She Sells Sanctuary” ~Cindy Callinsky 2007 May 05 I love Tacoma for:
♥VW’s,
♥places to go,
♥people to see,
♥and the smell of the bay.
♥Never Never Land,
♥Johnny's Seasoning,
♥Ruston Way,
♥the Japanese Gardens,
♥Beluga Whales,
♥Five Mile Drive,
♥the tunnel,
♥the smoke towers,
♥Almond Rocha,
♥and Fireman’s Park
Yes, it’s true.
The Waterfront always smells good to me.
The connection that I felt with almost everyone there was acceptance!
I also miss the friends that I never knew I had until I was 3,000 miles away.
I am screaming, “Hells Kitchen!” right now. I’ve never been… yet, I so long to go.
Put me in the Pit, baby! I soooo hope that you will be there, Jacob.
Send me back, Universe. PLEASE!
I will feel so at home that the people who know me now will not know what to do with me.
Then, I will be the child and they will be the parent. It’s been a long time coming… “That’s all I have to say about that!”
Oh wait, Lucy… you so owe me. You know what? You will come to take care of me but once you get there you will never want to leave. Ever!
Honey, I will be doing you a favor, opening your vision up and all. You ain’t seen nothing until you’ve seen Tacoma!
~Cindy Callinsky on “About Tacoma”
I do hurt for home and I hope that you somehow feel it.
2007 Apr 27 My day started out shitty. Luckily, things turned out much better than I ever thought was possible. Thank you, God, the Universe, and Karma. Really! Thank you.
Because of this I thought I should make a list of the things that I love. After all, these are the things that get me out of a funk and most of them don’t cost a dime.
Things I love:
The sound of children’s laughter and seeing their tender smiles.
The feel of a bubble bath on my skin.
The feel of a running Harley between my legs (thank you David and Bill).
The smell of Sandalwood and/or Ylang Ylang.
Seeing Chicory growing wild on the side of the road.
Wildflower gardens.
Watching a movie on a rainy day while cuddled on the couch with John.
The first slice of a Pepperoni Pounder accompanied by an oil can of Fosters Beer.
Watching football on Sundays while sporting my L.T. jersey.
Pouring my heart out on paper.
Falling asleep with Odie sprawled out in my arms (which John is doing right now).
Cherylene’s sweet tea.
The flip flop of my stomach that comes from giving or receiving warm-fuzzies.
Dancing around the house like a mad woman while screaming the lyrics to a song.
Being in the pit of a concert.
The soft plunk you can hear from the sound of a guitar being strummed.
The throaty sound of a sax being played hard and deep.
The air you can hear rushing from the bell of a woodwind.
The beat you can absorb from well played drums.
The vibration you can feel from the radiating strings of a fiddle when the bow slides across and seeing the resin float like angel dust in sunlight.
The wind blowing through my hair.
Marry-anne’s baked salmon and pineapple upside-down cake.
Beer at Brownie’s with Lucy Lou.
Long drives with no destination.
Tumbleweeds and windmills.
Lazy afternoon naps when you know that you should be doing something more productive.
Spending time with elders while absorbing all of their life experiences (thank you Lester and Vic).
The feeling I get when speaking to friends and family that are far away.
The feeling I get when I think of home.
The goose bumps I get from a fabulous tune, a phrase or sometimes just the unknown.
Tanessa, I read some of your blogs yesterday. I really believe that is what allowed me to get out of my funk today and keep my chin up when in reality… originally, I felt so bad for a while that... well; I don’t even want to think about it.
I love all “The Secret” talk that you shared. I related to so many of your blogs that it freaked me out a little but it was so very cool. I instantly felt associated with you and felt a genuine connection to your words. In fact, tomorrow, I’m gonna print some of them out and post them to my cubical right next to the lyrics that Gene wrote for the novel.
You know what? I think you should just do it, girl. Go for it. You’ve got nothing to lose. You have good experiences and philosophies that should be shared. If someone can find a friend in your words you’ll succeed, even if it’s not in a monetary form. I found a friend, guidance, a gentle reminder in your words today when I needed it the most. It was your words that made me wipe the river of tears from my checks on the drive to my house and “get my shit together”. I felt so unbelievably alone and your words reminded me that we all have pain. I didn’t feel so alone anymore. I thank you for that!
In the big scheme of things that’s what life is about, right?
In my opinion, it’s not what I do for me but what I do for others even when it sometimes makes me feel… taken advantage of? I realize taking care of me comes first because if I don’t do that I can’t give of me to others. When I do feel like I’ve been… well, screwed, I go through my “getting over it” process, get back up, wipe my hands and knees off. Then, I simply keep going. It hurts but I’d rather hurt and have Karma on my side than to just stop caring. Surprisingly, hurt isn’t as painful as anger. Anger is always my first reaction.
Oh wait!
Things I love:
The feeling of my fathers arm draped around my shoulder!
Happy birthday pops!
Eighty-one and still playing fucking tennis. Absolutely unbelievable. You are another Noah Dearborn, I swear.
Last year around this time I was home. Home… what a sweet word to roll off the tongue. The kicker was that in addition to being able to be at my fathers eightieth birthday I got to go to the Seattle Weekly Music Awards. I so wish I was home right now. I will dream of it tonight, though.
Out listening to Mother Love Bone’s “Chloe”
2007 Apr 14 Oh, the confusion that unknowing brings.
Someone says right and I think they’re saying left.
It doesn’t matter what they try to express if they can’t just come out and say what they mean.
If I have to guess, I will no doubt conclude the opposite.
It really sucks because I know they mean more than what they say. Yet, I’m not a mind reader.
After the irritation of not being able to read their minds wears off, I feel bad.
See, by this time I have already spewed out my first reaction. No holding back, baby.
Sometimes I feel I should just lay back and never react. I should be a good little puppy and adore everyone without ever questioning them or getting upset.
The thing is that I do the things I do because I care, not the opposite. Although, I’m sure that everyone perceives the opposite.
As we dig ourselves deeper into misunderstandings and then repentance, we are missing the beautiful wooden sailboat that could be catching the wind, guiding us away to bliss.
Since when have people stopped being honest? When did we all stop communicating what we really feel?
Honest feelings aren’t always logical. See, that’s exactly what makes them honest. If we comb through them and take this out and that out, they aren’t our real feelings. They are edited to suit the other person or worse yet, society.
You know, I get really mad with the world. I get really mad with people. I get really mad with situations I get myself in.
I hurt, I love, I screw up, and I bleed when I’m cut. I am a person and my feelings run deep.
I was thinking about it today. I was looking back over the years and thinking about the music I really love. You know, most of the music these days really sucks. You know why? They all sound like they were edited by the FCC.
Say what you feel, what runs deep in your heart and soul. Say it how you want but don’t comb through it. If you do that, by the time we hear your words they will be so watered down that they will have no impact on anyone.
There is nothing wrong with feeling pain. There is nothing wrong with feeling love so deep you have no words to express it. There is nothing wrong with waking up and sometimes wishing that you hadn’t. That’s real life.
It’s full of love and pain. They come hand in hand. You can’t have one without the other. It’s the classic Yin and Yang.
~Cindy Callinsky
2007 Apr 14 Love is a brilliant pink sky,
The touch of a sweet smelling breeze.
Love is a moment when time stops,
You cherish what will soon be history.
Love is what we can’t truly express,
We can only envelop ourselves in it.
Love is the miracle of the world,
It is what makes us get up every day.
Love is the butterflies in your stomach,
It is the consoling of someone else’s tears.
Love is the sharing of our hearts,
In its core, spiritualism and trust runs deep.
To really love is to give your all,
Even at the cost of humiliation.
For, until we are willing to be humiliated,
We will never truly love.
~Cindy Callinsky
2007 Apr 14 Ahh… the incredible feeling of giving life. The peace of knowing that part of you will walk the earth long after you are gone. The special times that you will share cuddling with this new miniature human being that is sprouting from your innermost-being. The expanding waistline that continues to become bigger until you think it cannot possibly get anymore whale-ish. HA! You’re only three-quarters of the way there! Accompanying your expanding waistline every other part of your body plumps… no heat required. Then, you are privilege to the precious experience of your hormones going absolutely berserk. When it’s finally time to welcome your new, “One of a kind,” addition to the world, there is no fear, second thoughts, or questions… It’s all about, “Get this thing out of me! And, now!” After hours of pushing, grunting, and moaning… you are lucky if you can have a natural childbirth. In this day and age you would think they would have come up with something more humane than having a woman trying to push something that is the size of a turkey out a hole that is really not bigger than a well known, long, skinny, yellow fruit. I guess the humane part comes into play when they stick that long thick needle deep into your spine, grinding it around to get it into the prime spot. Instead of a mother wife looking after you… there are strangers looking at your private parts just waiting for something to shoot out of them. But, when it’s all said and done and all the gunk and shit is cleaned up, it truly is spiritual. When your baby is finally caressed lovingly in your arms you feel a sense of euphoria of the likes you have never experienced before. If you only have one child, you will never experience it again. If you never have a child... you will never understand. This is one of the few things that you will wonder, “How did I make it through that?” Yet, you’ll long to be part of again. It is where the beginning and the end absolutely make up for everything in the middle, no matter how bad you felt back then. ~Cindy Callinsky 2007 Apr 14 4/14/2007 5:30 AM It’s 5:30 in the morning and I awoke to an extremely vivid dream… a color one at that which is pretty rare for me. A lot of people think they dream in color when in fact it’s uncommon. Anyway, when your dream in color the color sort of hollers out to you from the dream. If you don’t distinctly see color stand out so vivid that you can’t help but remember it then you probably aren’t dreaming in color. I’ve only dreamt in color twice. One of the two dreams is a reoccurring dream about a flower field that I’m running through. So, I walk into work and I’m headed to a different desk. I’m over where they have wanted me to move for a while. On my desk is a white paper bag that’s the same size as a bag that would be commonly used to pack a child’s lunch. I look down into this bag and it seems to have a bottomless pit because there are so many things flowing out of it. First I see a bright bouquet of flowers in bright yellows and deep browns. The bouquet is oozing all of my favorite colors and is of the wildflower variety. I’m feeling an immense sense of love because I can’t remember the last time someone has given me flowers. Looking back over time, I think of the flowers I received when I had John, but that’s not correct. Cole bought me roses once but see… that didn’t come to me, the brightly colored bouquets came to mind first. I dig through the bag more to try and figure out who the gift giver is. I pull out some goofy things like beef Jerky, and other types of beef that do not require refrigeration. It’s a gag gift and it’s from Elmo. The gifts are based off some type of funny conversation we had earlier in the week because today is Friday. No doubt the conversation revolved around my lack of a true relationship because the non-refrigeration gifts somehow remind me that I need something that won’t spoil. See, the meat represents my lack of a permanent man and the non-refrigeration represents how long this lack has followed me. There’s no note or card attached because he knows I will know the gift is from him. I’m crackin’ up. Then, Jenny comes over and sits next to me. She starts telling me a story, “Brandy, you know that I met this musician one time and I feel head over heals. Man, I was in bad shape. My mom kicked me out of the house, I was partying too much, lived in my garage for a while and then ended up homeless at one point. I just have to tell you to be careful” Then all of the sudden I hear sweet music and it’s loud. It’s so loud and real that I immediately know… it’s not coming through one of the many sound systems that are scattered throughout the call center. He’s here and he’s playing for me. It sounds so real that if I didn’t know any better I would think that he was standing next to me in my bedroom, playing that sax while I sleep. I turn around and see him gracing a platform in the middle of the call center but against a wall. He’s beneath our light-link board. He’s grinning softly looking back at me. I enjoy the warmth that comes over me and then laugh at Elmo. I won’t be needing that dried up beef after all. ~Cindy Callinsky 2007 Apr 14 I have this need to write tonight. For some reason I find myself doing a positive, neutral and negative list. Positives: - We get each other. It sounds stupid but it’s true. We can talk for hours on end even though neither of us likes speaking on the phone. In fact, when speaking to the other we find ourselves not wanting to end the conversation.
- Even though I’m far from Cindy Crawford you don’t seem to mind.
- We compliment each other so well that it is truly scary. Hell. If I can’t do it, you can. If you can’t, I can. I swear we are two pieces of a puzzle that fit damn near perfectly.
- We seem to share many of our truest and deepest passions.
- I miss you when I can’t talk to you in some form or fashion. What the hell’s with that anyway? I’m so not clingy.
- There’s sexual tension and we have never been formally introduced. It’s definitely not about appearance because I’ve never seen you in person. How can you possibly have this affect on me? You’re better than chocolate, I swear.
Neutrals: Negatives: - You’re hearts not available for the takin’. That sucks because mine is finally available. Hell, it has been so many years that I don’t have enough fingers to figure out how many “so many” is.
- Before this dream ends in a train wreck with my heart crushed under wheels, I have to know… Do you ever play that sax naked?
~Cindy Callinsky
|
Download for Free
