le plus de choses change, le plus ils restent le même.

wow.

tooling about the house on one of the first (and hopefully not only) free, vacationy vacation days i will have this summer, with VH-1 on in the other room, i found myself being pulled toward the television as if wrenched out of my seat by a tractor beam.

it was the brand new, new kids on the block video.  now, perez had it linked a couple weeks ago, and i checked it out then.  there were some buffering issues but listening to it, it was decent for what it is - a laid-back, frothy confection of well-crafted pop song.  it is what it is, y'all.

but what amazed me is the pull that this group has some weird tug of my heartstrings - and drawstring.  donnie wahlberg still makes my mouth water, and seeing nkotb back in their "whoa, oh," arm-swinging, same-outiftted glory, still makes me weak in the knees.   the days of my first concert at RFK stadium, of the slick posters covering my bedroom walls, of  my very first sex dream, starring jordan knight (in hindsight it 's suprising that jordan and not donnie filled my first R-rated nightime fantasy).

i wonder if there's a direct correlation between that last particular event and my knock-kneed, butterflies- bellow-the-belt response to seeing the boys from boston on tv today.  while admittedly a little embarrassing to admit that nkotb can still provoke this type of response in me, it actually seems a little more appropriate and less potentially pervvy twenty years after the fact.   at their initial peak of popularity, 19 year one old donnie was eliciting randy, sticky responses from my 11 year old self that i'm not sure i even fully understood.

Reed and I are tooling around the dairy aisle of the grocery store when he points and exclaims in a very loud voice: “Look, Dad! There’s another bald man!” At which point, everybody in the vicinity starts laughing.

Because no one doubts anymore the kind of child I will be raising.

I was born in 1976. I have quite a list of TV shows from my youth, spanning almost every year of my life. Memories of The Dukes of Hazzard, of Sesame Street, of the Robonic 3 Stooges.

(As for that last one, I shit you not. I remember watching it on CBS at 6.30am on Saturdays. When I would be so excited about Saturday morning cartoons, I would wake up, without an alarm, at roughly 5.30am. And sit. Watching the test pattern patiently until 6, when The New Adventures of Mighty Mouse and Heckle & Jeckle came on. According to these Wikipedia links, this had to be 78-79. I really can't explain how I remember all these details. For years, I thought I had dreamed the Robonic 3 Stooges, because, seriously, who would ever make that cartoon? God bless the Internet.)

Anyway, I recall these shows as snapshots in time. And 3-2-1 Contact certainly fits that bill.

Today, my boss was singing the theme song. Of course, this planted it my head and sent me off to youtube to find it. This is a later version of the opening than the one I grew up with, but the music is the same — and much of the footage is the same (from the water drop on).

Holy crap, it still rocks. I just had to watch it again. I wish I knew why I found it badass. Ah, old memories.

So that was step one. Then I recalled that one of my first crushes was on one of the two female hosts on this show. The other was on Lynda Carter, from watching re-runs of Wonder Woman. Let's also keep in mind that I was 3 or 4 at the time.

This crush was on the host named Trini. imdb tells me some interesting things: Trini's real name is Ginny Ortiz. And she was also in The Warriors, which cracks me up, as I love that movie. Digging further online, it seems she hasn't done much else movie/TV-wise and has been doing mostly theater work. And she is now married with a child.

It made me smile though — I mean, I had serious hots for this girl. I still do.

And so I went digging to find pictures of her today.

This is where you prepare to laugh.

The only one I found was a tiny headshot from The Warriors:

But youtube came through again — I found another 3-2-1 Contact clip where she was hosting. And I grabbed a few stills from it, so you don't have to watch all of it — though you do get to hear her in the clip.

Laughing yet?

If not, perhaps it is because you haven't seen a picture of my girlfriend (pictured on the left):

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I appear to be dating someone who is the same type as a girl I was in love with at age 3. On the TV. And yes, I am slightly creeped out by this whole thing. Did Ginny Ortiz actually inspire my tastes or was she merely the first woman I "knew" who matched them? Did she imprint me for life?

I have no idea. But I would like to travel back in time, meet myself and let him know that he has good taste.

(Also, I would be lying if I said that I didn't hope she finds this. Sure, it's a super weird story. But if Ms. Ortiz sees this, I hope she will leave me a comment. I'll almost feel like my life will have been a glorious loop of…something. And before you call me creepy — who doesn't want to hear from a TV star they were in love with as a child?)

I grew up in love with Wonder Woman. The tv show, mainly, though I had a doll and my own magic lasso. I love Lynda Carter. Though I have heard a few stories from my mother about how she was concerned for my sexuality — not only did I love Wonder Woman, my favorite color was pink.

In retrospect, my love of women was never in jeopardy — I was in love with Lynda Carter; I was not projecting myself onto her. But she was a great pick, regardless of the role. I haven't read any of the Golden Age issues of WW, but it's well known for being a bit…loaded. And now I love her even more.

And so I present you some love advice from WW:

If you need more advice, written in a column manner, head over to the original post on Again With the Comics. It's worth the click, I promise.

And no, that panel was not doctored. And there's more where that came from.

i almost wish i hadn't read tripp's post before posting tonight, because it really didn't influence me to write. it's the fourth anniversary of the day my mother died, and i always write around this day. i look back and reread the years before, and end of reflecting how things change. how i change. how much also stays the same.

last night i had an absolute jahrzeit-related meltdown. it started brewing after school when i had taken my SCA kids carolling at a home for invalid elderly people. the flashbacks and sights and smells of people nearing the ends of their lives was just too intense. that feeling was practically palpable and i couldn't stop thinking of the way my mom looked four years ago. the noises she made and the drugs that she took and the sounds and their eyes. it was just too much for me yesterday. it is still too much for me today.

after dark i was making my way precariously through the windy, pitch black roads of harrisonburg, bringing home a third grade girl who remained with me well after the 5.45 pickup time after our trip. when i called home three hours after the time she would normally be getting off the bus, her grandmother answered the phone and said, "oh, we had wondered where she was." they wondered where their eight year old was.

when i was this little girl's age the cancer was growing in my mother but we didn't know it yet. i was still happy and i skipped around and life hadn't shown itself to me yet. as we drove those dark roads last night a piece of me wanted to turn the other way and drive away, to take that little girl away from whatever shit-tastic life would be there for her when she walked through their front door, thinking maybe, somehow, i could play holden caulfield and just catch her.

on the way home, i talked to my father. and we both sobbed. december 18 will always be shitty. thinking about it will be shitty. and i will continue to be sad and angry and lonesome for my mother. and things will change, but things will stay the same.

i am helping to raise a child. i just vocalized that notion for the first time a day or two ago and it blew my mind. i am part of what is shaping zane's life. it's different than just being a teacher. and it takes priority. my family within these walls is my life now. i miss posting, miss the seemingly carefree days when i blah-blah-blahed about boys and drinking and complained a lot. several times a day i bet i think about a post, compose something in my head that never comes to fruition at a keyboard. and i lament that. i envy ray for seemingly being able to strike a balance that, for the moment, seems elusive.

but i am still here.