crazy random happenstances

connotation

2010-04-02T21:43:00.005-04:00

Clearly, I am not writing what I should be writing now. I am setting to work on a project. I wrote four pages. And now I sit here with this old blog.

But the music on my playlist just made me internally crack up. This is the song.

Why did I crack up?

Well, a few weeks back I saw Ingrid Michaelson at Toad's Place. I have probably not been that drunk in years. And probably won't be that drunk again for a few more years. I acted a tad like a "woo girl." I was a woo girl that night. Oh. My. God. I'm ashamed.

And yet I'm not. It's not like I was randomly yelling to catch a man's eye. (Because, really, let's be honest - what straight, single guy is at an Ingrid Michaelson show??) But I was drunk. And I was being loud. And I may have grabbed a drink that did not belong to me. I also apparently forgot I went to the bathroom at one point. I also was convinced I'd fall off the bench I was standing on. My phone has suffered a tad since. There are dents that were not there before.

But I'm not ashamed.

I was so happy to have that release that night. It had been a shitty couple days. There was a breakdown with someone close to me. I started to doubt my own instincts as well as my recent decisions in life. Things were at such a strange and frantic place (well, they still are. but I am hoping we are entering a slowing down.)

I needed that night.

As the next few weeks progress I might need a few nights like that. Just, likely, not to that degree.

But for now whenever I hear Ingrid Michaelson, I go back to that night. And fight the compulsion to yell "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"

do you want to make me cry?

2010-03-29T19:20:00.003-04:00

Then show me the last ten minutes of Six Feet Under. I will sob. Usually it happens when Nate appears in the hospital to his mother as she is dying. But really, the entire ten minutes send me off into weepy land.

I have been in love with Six Feet Under since the show was first created. It was good television. Good writing. Phenomenal acting. Amazing storytelling. Creatively told and shown.

But it was more than that. What made this show matter so damn much to me was the relationship between Claire and her brothers. Each one resembled various aspects of the relationships between my brothers and me. Perhaps that one that was most strongly resonant is the one between Nate and Claire. Like my oldest brother, Nate was not with the family at the beginning of the series. He moves back upon the death of his father. He has been away. Living his own life. And being apart from the whole family.

My oldest brother moved away when he was 18. He went to college. He went to grad school. He found a job in California. He struggled with what to do when my mother became ill. But stayed in California. Eventually getting married and having a family. He found his way back here a few years back and I am incredibly thrilled to have him local. And to have my sister in law nearby and get to know my nieces.

But I think what happens when you have a sibling move away when you're only 8 is that person becomes incredibly mysterious. He had this whole life that none of us were a part of. He was exotic. He became almost mythic. He was the prodigal son. I remember when he was in grad school and he disappeared for a week. My mother went crazy looking for him. It turns out he ran off to Venezuela for a vacation and didn't tell anyone. When he came back, my mom was furious but my dad just laughed. He wanted to know what his old stomping grounds were like.

That's what people do around my brother. They just love him. And as the little sister, whenever he came back from college or on any visit - I could not wait to see him. It continued even through my adult years. If he was here for New Year's Eve, I didn't make plans because I wanted to hang out with him. If he was here in the summer and wanted to rent a house in Cape Cod I was totally going even if it meant I was going to be with my parents, brothers, sisters in law and babies all week.

And I always wanted his approval, acceptance, inclusion. When he started sending me mix tapes I felt hip. When I got a care package from this mythical place called Trader Joe's in college, I knew I would be awesome.

Nate and Claire have a very similar relationship. Or at least that's the part of their relationship I always identified with. In the series finale when she sees Nate's ghost cheering her on, I imagined my brother saying similar things. There was this very natural relationship there and it just rang so strongly. Like in this scene:

Of course, this is all the more creepy when I take into account the fact there is an undeniable similarity between Peter Krause and my brother. I've been struggling to find pictures that prove this, but alas every picture of my brother involves him making a face of sorts. It's not an exact match. There's more of a general quality. And the facial expression - holy bejesus, it's ridiculous.

So, yeah. Want me to cry? Show me this:

[This is not to say that my other brother and I are not close. The relationship Claire has with David is very similar. We've always been around each other. We sort of know how the other thinks. Also, he looks way more like Ben Affleck.]

saturdays

2010-03-27T12:37:00.002-04:00

are meant to be lazy.

especially when you don't get to sleep until well past 4 in the morning and the sun decides to shine on your face three hours later.

especially when you are suddenly faced with a new career turn that you didn't expect four days ago.

especially when you really just want to bake cupcakes, come up with place mat designs, and take a nap in the afternoon.

especially when you would like to plan a vacation. somewhere. preferably with salt air and cliffs.

especially when you're just really, really sleepy.

Words

2010-03-25T18:52:00.005-04:00

I sometimes make reference to things when tweeting/texting/blogging that may not make sense to a person not living in my head. I don't recommend you live in my head. It's not a healthy place. But, here is a quick rundown of what words mean.

PTB - I ripped this off from Angel. It literally stands for Powers That Be. I use it to refer to any of the higher ups at work.

Brooks Brothers - this is simply the artist formerly known as Team Paul. See also PTB

Awesomesauce - I want to make this word happen. Let's do it.

Boh - This is one of my favorite Italian phrases/expressions. I don't think it's an actual word. It's more an expression or a sound. It's best expressed with a shoulder shrug. What does it mean, you ask? "I don't know" or "Whatever" or "I don't care." And the exact meaning is best expressed by intonation. We say it a lot in my family. One of my favorite examples of how the word is used is this story.

A few years back I was in Rome with a good friend of mine.
Our first night there we tried to go to the Coloseum or the Forum and failed at both.
We were also followed by the gay pickpocketers of Rome who tried to break into our suitcases while we tried to find out hotel.
We were not loving the Rome.
So, walking we passed by an Irish pub. We decided beer would make everything better. (this was before the gluten free days.)
We walked in. Ordered pints. Drank. Ordered french fries. They were amazing and cooked in olive oil. They were amazing. I still remember how wonderful those fries were. And I'm not a big french fries person. But those fries - holy shit.
But I digress.
While we sat at the bar loving those fries and drinking beer, we were amused by the bartender.
He was confused by us because he knew everyone else in the bar but not us.
He bought us shots. Of what I'm not sure.
I finally started talking to him in Italian and he eventually loosened up.
Then I noticed there was Brazil flag on the ceiling. So I asked -
Why do you have a flag of Brazil on your ceiling?
He looked at it. Looked at me.
Shrugged his shoulders and said "Boh." And then turned towards his other friends.
From that moment on, my friend has had no problem understanding what I mean when I say "Boh."

GF or GFree - This is pretty simple - gluten free. It's sometimes to long to type out. So in answer to the questions - no I am not referring to "girlfriend" or "girl free" things. And my next comment is think about that a bit before you ask. Girlfriend cupcakes? Girlfriend bread? Girl free beer? Think a bit.

I thought I had more expressions. But I realized I just wanted to write this post and share my story about wierd Roman bartender and olive oil french fries.

Spring

2010-03-23T12:22:00.004-04:00

Today is a decidedly dreary day. It's rainy but not really raining. It's grey. It's chilly on my bare legs. The sky is white.

Yet, all I can see in my office is sunshine. And flowers. In particular, pink and yellow gerber daisies. I am thinking of swirling skirts. And ruffley t-shirts. And sandals. And barefeet on grass.

I'm not on my way to a vacation. I'm not planning a pretty getaway. No mini-breaks on the horizon. Hell, my moving date isn't even finalized.

But I am listening to She & Him. Hot damn, if this music doesn't scream springtime awesome to me everytime I put it on. I remember when I first heard Volume One. It was around Easter. My mom heard it in the car with me one day and was tapping her toes to the music. My nieces liked singing along to it. When I listened, I wanted to dress a certain way. It just made me smile.

Volume Two was released today and it causes the same reaction. I'm fairly certain if my mom was here she would be humming along with the chorus of "Gonna Get Along Without You." It's that catchy.

The whole album is like discovering a secret stash of the world's greatest gluten free cupcakes. It's sweet. It's happy. And it reminds you of innocent days. When I'm listening to Zooey sing I feel like nothing can really go bad. There is such promise in the sound.

It's only fitting that this album comes out at a time when so much change is happening in my life. If all the final steps go according to my hopes and plans, I will own my beloved flat in the center of town within a month and be hopefully all moved in within the next two. It looks like job opportunities are more available then previously imagined. And I've decided that I like the changes I'm making to my personality. I'm slowly becoming that person I know I want to be.

Apparently, sometimes, you just need to tell yourself to be happy. And while it doesn't create the happy immediately it does create a mindset that allows the happy to enter. I used to want to settle for content. Being content with how things are. Lately that hasn't been enough. Maybe when I accepted my role as caretaker for my mom, content was enough. Now I just want to be happy.

I want to feel the way She & Him makes me feel when I listen. I feel happy. I smile. I feel energy.

Enjoy:

while the boss is away ...

2010-03-16T15:48:00.007-04:00

I avoid doing real work. Also, it's so so so so nice outside. I need to be back in the sunshine. When I went out earlier I was instantly in an excellent mood. Not that I'm necessarily in a bad mood now, but outside playing in the sun listening to She & Him and Shout Out Louds I was in a much better mood.

It's hard to motivate for work when there are so many other things I could be doing on a day like today. I could be taking apart this skirt I'm wearing for instance and preparing to make another in a different color. I could just take my camera for a walk through my city. (I do want a springtime picture of the carousel.) I could go stand outside the bank and beg for them to make a decision. I could practice drawing elephants.

Instead I'm stuck at work.

And for some reason I'm nostalgic right now. And it makes me a little sad. It's the sort of nostalgia that makes you wonder why you are the way you are. It just pops up out of no where. Or maybe a certain song pops in your head and said song makes you remember a certain time in your life. I blame today's nostalgia on the cooped up nature of my work. I also blame the beauty that is today and the teenage boy riding his skateboard in the parking lot of the coffee shop I go. And while we are blaming, let's blame the onerous file to the left of me that I don't want to address but I have to address.

Instead of addressing it, I look for YouTube videos. YouTube is absolutely amazing. You can find anything. Like the video posted below.

This one reminds me of college. I was forced to watch it a lot. At around the 4:10 mark, Jason Lee sings the cutest song ever. That would be the song that just popped in my head while I rifled through some file cabinets today looking for the onerous file. Or part of the file that has no disappeared. [Don't worry, Team P--- I found it.]

However, when I say I was forced to watch the video let me be honest. Let me describe the conversation.
boy: Hey wanna watch that Jason Lee video? (insert title of random video)
me: Is that the one where he sings that cute little song?
boy: Nope it's a different one, but just as awesome.
me: Okay. Does he sing a cute little song?
boy: No. He skates. He's Jason Lee. Before he was Brodie, he was a skater.
me: Oh, so no new cute little song then?
boy: No.
me: Oh.
[pause ... followed by silence ...]

boy: Wanna watch the Jason Lee video where he sings that song that's pretty funny?
me: If you want.

[Yes, I am a brat.]

I love it. In defense of my brattiness (also, this was during a very bizarre klepto phase. Buy me a drink and I'll tell you the tale) I did have to endure a whole heckuva lot of "hey watch me skate" and "hey, sure I'll walk you home, but only if I can climb every single tree on the way there" and "look at the giant cut on my knee. Soooo much blood."

[please refrain from commenting on the boys of my past]

Searching for that video, led to me looking for my favorite Jason Lee scene from Mallrats. (How much do I love Kevin Smith for this Whalers reference?)

Yes. You're welcome.

Rainy weekend musings

2010-03-14T12:11:00.002-04:00

It's rained pretty much non-stop this weekend. I sort of like it. It fits my mood.

I spend last night with my oldest niece. She is now 13 and is a total grown up. She likes shopping. And to attempt philosophical conversations. And quotes Aristotle on her blackboard. When she caught me smiling at the blackboard she seriously informed me that there is nothing funny about Aristotle.

We spent the night in the mall and I managed to channel my own teenager years as a mallrat (Oh How I love the smell of commerce in the morning!) and do some of my own shopping I had put off for a good long while. We eventually got hungry and had to find a place to eat that did not have a three hour wait and provided reasonable gluten free options for me.

We settled on a restaurant and halfway through our meal I remembered that my last time there was with my mom. One of her favorite past times was to go to the mall and shop. She also loved to devour a hamburger with french fries. It was something I tried to consistently make time for with her. I loved it. I didn't get sad about eating there. I had fun. My niece cracks me up.

I was in a bothered mood most of the weekend however. And it's times like this I begin to feel so much resentment towards the hand I was dealt in life and the choices I made. I have been making a very concerted effort for over a year now to "forget regret" and not look back in anger towards the things that happened in life. My mom got sick. I chose to stay at home and decided against various life experiences. I shut myself down in a lot of circumstances because it was just easier. And now - I'm trying to move beyond that. It takes a lot of effort to break down walls once they're built. It's a little bit like scar tissue. The walls start to layer over each other at some point.

Usually when I've let people in it's after months (and in some cases years). Months before I ever allowed any sort of vulnerability in front of them. Before I ever said what I've been feeling. Or call to vent about a crappy day. I don't do it. Or didn't do it. I'm trying to do more of it now. But I am always so wary. I don't want to be burdensome. I've had the friends who called me every single time something went wrong. Every bad date. Every bad work day. Every bad argument. I used to get the call. I've had to cut them out. (that is also an ever evolving process) I don't ever want to be "that person." It takes me a long, long, long time to trust people. And when I have that trust I expect it to be respected and valued. And when people trust me, I value that trust.

When that trust is broken it hurts. It hurts a lot. When something I don't give out easily is devalued I get angry. I don't like to feel betrayed. Or to be allowed in a situation where I'm left feeling the fool.

Needless to say something happened with a friend. Or someone considered a friend. I'll survive. And maybe remain friends with this person in the future. Stuff happens. The particulars don't matter. I'm not angry so much as upset that I wasn't respected.

The best cure for this was definitely a night with a 13 year old. The world through her eyes is one of such promise. At one point during our long chats she mentioned that maybe she should be a reporter because newspapers could use her help. A few minutes later she confessed to loving space too much to want to be a reporter. And then she asked me why I was a lawyer because in her words "you are sooooooooooooo not a suit person. You bought a pair of red converse because a character in a tv show wore them for pete's sake!" (true words - mouths of babe - you know the saying)

I hope we can have more of these nights. I told her last night my mission was to be the cool aunt. Her response was "done, now what will you do for me?" That's my girl.

[I'll admit that the title of the "cool aunt" was easy to achieve. I was only a teenager when she was born and we've always had a sister bond. Her brother raids my comic book collection. Her sisters are routinely raiding my accessories drawer.]

I get nervous of watching these kids grow up. I want to always remain close to them. I want them to always feel free to come to me when they need help. It's something I never really had. They have better relationships with their parents than I did, but it would have been nice to have someone I felt safe to talk to outside of my parents when I was a kid. Someone who wouldn't judge. Someone who would maybe encourage me to be more open with my feelings. So that when I hit my thirties I wasn't still learning that it's okay to be a little vulnerable every so often. I hope I can do that for them.

i don't wear nearly enough flannel

2010-03-03T22:59:00.011-05:00

Or wool. Or leather. Or motorcycle boots. I'm also not a middle aged Woo Girl. Or a middle aged man with curly white hair or a beard. And I also don't smell like patchouli. I can not stand Widespread Panic. And I listen to no country music aside from the classics of Johnny, Willie, and Patsy. (Unless you consider Wilco, Whiskeytown, and the like country. Which my Toby Keith Nascar loving co-worker told me is most decidedly not country.)

Music I do like - I have an appreciation for the classic rock. I like good songwriters. I listen to a fair amount of punk. Indie rock is probably wear I lurk most often. And I went through a definite phase in life where lo-fi was the "most awesome fucking sound ever."

I also love hoodies and cardigans. I wear batman t-shirts and jeans. And pretty much live in one of the five pair of chucks I own. (work is clearly a different story - there it's skirts and heels and frill - out of work it's the same outfit I've been wearing the past 15 years.)

And this all brings me to seeing Todd Snider tonight. First, the show was in Northampton. And that sets a tone for everything. It makes me nostalgic for the days I lived there.

I lived on the second floor of this building. There was a dog called Artemis usually tied up outside the building. He ran away often and while he belonged to my neighbor, I often got called about the missing dog.

So once the wave of nostalgia passes, I head down to the Iron Horse - which is still my favorite place to see a show. I remember my first show there was Mary Lou Lord. She sang Indie Rock Boy. It made me smile. Back then I wore my blue Chucks or silver Docs and wore my hair red and lived in jeans and a hoodie. At that time those were socially acceptable for my organizing job.

Tonight we walked and scoped out a decent place to stand in the back. I have no idea who opened. I have no idea what she sang aside from the time she said the name Gram Parsons and I perked up hoping for Las Vegas or Streets of Baltimore. But, then Todd walked up the stairs and started his set.

There was lots of hootin and hollerin. And woos. My good the woos. I clapped and cheered and sang along with my favorites. But the woos and the hoots and the hollers were insane. And at that point I took stop of my surroundings and I realized how much I did not really fit in with this crowd. Sure, there were a handful of folks who were similar to me, but the majority were... well. They were the guy in front of me. He wore jeans and a denim shirt and a leather cap. Yes, cap. He also randomly started tried to beat out a rhythm on the table or the wall post next to him. But poorly. So, picture that guy times a couple 100 and then me.

But no matter, I laughed. I had a great time. I have said it before and I will say it forever I could listen to Todd Snider tell me stories everyday. He weaves a tale like few I know and I love it. He managed to make me laugh out loud with a story I've heard repeatedly on his live album, get a little sad remembering someone during "Lonely Girl," give out my own woot of enjoyment during "Conservative Christian" and then get the audience to laugh during a song about attempted suicide with "Sunshine."

It was a good way to end a day that had me angry about work, my lack of money, stupid drama and my own overreactions to things. I don't quite remember what I was angry about.

And in case you forgot yesterday was Dr. Seuss's birthday.

And

I see Firefly Salon and I immediately think of Captain Malcolm Reynolds. Some people think insects.

And lastly,

They were just sitting there. Waiting.

So what did I learn tonight - Todd Snider appeals to one of the most random demographics ever. I prefer driving down route 10 on my way home from Northampton (unless it's behind the dude going 25 mph...) And I miss my camera. Must use the baby more. And I am so totally chickenshit.

Happy Anniversary

2010-02-27T19:46:00.008-05:00

February 27, 1965

My parents would have been married 45 years today. I love this picture. My mom's smile is ridiculous and wonderful. And whenever I look at it, I smile. She is just so happy. And that smile just rubs off on you.

Except, she smiled so rarely. I don't remember her being a happy person. Her life was not always positive. A lot of sadness lived inside her and it hurts me to know I never really understood her. Or knew her.

I know the facts. But who was she? What did she love? What was she like? Who was her first love? Did she have one? What was she like as a kid? What did she want to do with her life? What were her dreams?

And these are just the tip of the question iceberg. There is one person I can talk to. And I am trying to get over my anger and talk to him. But, until then all the questions linger.

I miss her terribly. It's amazing how it hits me. All is well. And then BAM! it sets in.

It started this time a few nights back. I'd had a god awful day at work. It was raining. I came home and decided to go for a run. The first song which popped up on the iPod shuffle was The Replacements "Bastards of Young." The song was appropriate for so many reasons. But the line which struck me was

The ones who love us best are the ones we'll lay to rest

And visit their graves on holidays at best

I listen to that song often. I don't know why that line struck me suddenly. Maybe it's knowing that the anniversary was approaching. Maybe it was because so much in my life has been uncertain.

Whatever the reason, that feeling sits there. And I miss her. I wish I could just sit with her and say "what should I do now?" But I don't have that luxury right now. I can talk to her, sure. And I do. But she isn't able to give me any answers. Or maybe she is.

I've been playing with a way to finish this post and I got nothing. As much as it doesn't fit with my mom or my memories of her here's a clip of The Replacements singing Bastards of Young. It does fit my mood.

Get ready kids...

2010-02-22T19:26:00.005-05:00

I'm going to see Todd Snider again. Not only am I going to see Todd Snider again - he's playing in quite possibly my favorite venue. The Iron Horse in Northampton.

I'm way excited. If you follow me on the twitter, this is no news to you whatsoever. However, I'm still way excited.

And then I tried to figure out what it is about Todd Snider that makes me giddy. If one glances at my music collection you will try to figure out how Mr. Snider fits in. He's currently sandwiched between Those Darlins and Tokyo Police Club. I spend most of my days sitting at work listening to mixes comprised of The Hold Steady, Rhett Miller, random showtunes, Green Day, The Descendents, Jenny Owen Youngs, The Kinks, etc etc.

Except for those days where I decide I need to listen to Todd all day.

He fits in. He fits into the randomness of all the music I own. And he does what I love the most. He tells me stories.

I love stories. I love crafting them, telling them, reading them, hearing them, watching them. Even at work. I tell my staff that every file needs to tell us the story. It needs to explain to us exactly what is happening from beginning to end. Without the story, we don't know what we're doing. And most importantly, it needs to be able to be summarized (but that is the post for another day and perhaps a different blog).

And Todd can story tell like no other. Whether it's during his live shows and the randomness he tells in between the songs or the songs themselves, I'm in awe. I don't always love the twangy sound. I am not a big fan of his more poppy country albums. I prefer the slower pace. I prefer it when he brings it down, sits us in a circle and weaves a tale.

And an example ... (I was in the Tarrytowns that evening...)

anger

2010-02-18T08:54:00.002-05:00

lately, anger has been my primary emotion. i'm angry at work. i'm angry at home. i'm angry everywhere.

i'm trying to be positive. but, hell, it's hard.

when you're manipulating into taking care of other people all the time, it can wear you down. i've been doing it most of my life and i just want to be done. you might say "i'm mad as hell and not going to take it anymore."

you might.

i hit a high point with my anger last night. i finally read the report detailing salaries for people of comparable jobs. it was bad. the numbers made me scream. instead of yelling myself hoarse, i poured the southern comfort. i choked back tears. i felt angry at how devalued i was. why the hell was i wasting so much of my life in this job? a job that clearly didn't care about me.

i signed up for public service when i graduated law school. but public service does not have to mean being devalued.

i am the woman behind the scene in my job. the unwritten code of my job description is to make the people above me look good. and i'm good at it. i make it easy for the higher ups to do their job. perhaps too easy.

and that realization makes me angry.

and finally this anger results in something. i sent an email. took action. took command of my future.

here goes nuthin'.

life, right now.

2010-02-14T22:46:00.002-05:00

I am awake much later than I want to be. My brain has gone in so many crazy directions and run around and my feelings have been hurt and my heart has felt pained. I've cried a lot. I've felt like the worst person in the world. I've been angry and ready to scream. I've felt manipulated.

And that was the past 72 hours or so.

On Friday morning, I decided to start my four day weekend by telling my dad that I found an apartment and I would be leaving him alone.

He didn't take it well. He didn't want to listen. He made wild accusations. He said horribly, hurtful things. He wanted to cut me out of his life.

My brother forced the issue later in the day.

And my dad didn't take it well. He didn't want to listen. He made wild accusations. He said horribly, hurtful things. He wanted to cut me out of his life.

And the following day he muttered. He made snide comments under his breath. He sighed. A lot. He sat quietly in a room staring at the wall. He murmured about dying alone. He refused to initiate a conversation with me.

And this morning he only spoke when spoken to.

And I weakened. I cleaned and thought, maybe this wasn't worth it. Would I really be free? I mean, even if I moved to a small apartment ten minutes away, I'd still be here. I'd still have to do everything I do now. So was it worth it? What if something happened to him after I moved out? And maybe I should just buy something? And then I looked at all my lists (good god, the lists I write). And that pain in the center of my chest, well hell it just got worse. Encouraging texts were sent. I had to remember my goal of living for me for once. Not putting everyone ahead of me first. But putting me first.

And then he sat me down. He said he understood that I wanted to move out. He understood I needed space. He knew he would never leave this house. And I should focus on buying something. A small house. Something just for me. Something where I wanted to be. If I really wanted to be in Hartford, then I should go there. (Just make sure it was safe... he is a dad after all.) But don't rent. He recited his reasons. He told me he would support. He would come visit me. He would help me however he could. And he told me why not to rent. (And in my head I recited list #5 which mirrored his reasons.) He wanted me to have an investment. Something to hold on to. And if I was afraid of not being able to make it, I needed to just take a chance. He said just do it. And do it quick.

And I sat dumbfounded. Wondering who the hell this man sitting here in my father's Italian National Team track pants was. "Take a chance." "I know you want to move out on your own." Seriously, who the hell was this guy? Two days earlier I heard about how I was forsaking him. How I was just ready to abandon him and leave him alone. Two days earlier he sat there screaming "WHAT HAPPENS WHEN SOMETHING HAPPENS TO ME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT?"

Now he wanted me to take a chance. And accepted my need for space.

And me, what do I do? What does this pathetic and desperately in need of dad's approval girl say? "Will you be okay?"

And he laughs. "Of course."

Our conversation pretty much ended there. He repeated a few more times that if I chose to make the unwise choice of renting he would not support me and he would not approve and would never bother to visit me. But if I bought something, he would do all those things. He'd even be okay with a condo.

He's a master of manipulation that man. I hate it. I'm being played. And it pisses me off. Make me so angry. And the hot-headed nature of my personality wants to just say "screw you and your fucking mind games."

But see, this is where the overbearing over thinking nature of my personality factors in. I sat dumbfounded. I could get what I want - freedom, for lack of a better word - and not deal with the gut wrenching heartache of this weekend. The cliche of losing the battle, but winning the war sort of rings true. It's not like I haven't been weighing this question of rent v. buy the past few months.

I just hate the manipulation.

And what about all those signs last week? Wasn't the universe telling me to rent that place? The house was red! My mom's favorite color.

Maybe it was my mom's nudge forcing me to find the courage to talk to my dad. Maybe she sent my dad a sign. Maybe it's nothing.

Whatever it is, I think I've made my decision. I don't like feeling like I'm caving. But if I ultimately get what I need and am true to what I need - what does it matter?

I spent the better part of the night looking at townhouses. I sent a note to my old realtor and told him what was up. I have a list of five places I want to see. And a deadline. April 1. It postpones my move by one month. I don't know what happens if I don't meet it. But I don't want to have another option. April 1. By then, I'll be out.

can you hear it calling

2010-02-05T19:11:00.003-05:00

the universe that is. she is a loud beast lately. my god, i sometimes wonder that she does not shut up a bit this week. what with the signs and the pointing and the ridiculously obvious direction i keep being shoved in.

once upon a time i was a cynic. big old cynic. thought things like signs and meant to bes were for suckers. however, i've been undergoing a touch of a renaissance. a mental/emotional growth spurt if you will. it's been a slow transformation. and probably started when i went to the hip, tranquil chick retreat at kripalu. it was hokey. hokier than anything i've ever done or put myself through or contemplated. but i went. because i knew it would be a good idea.

and it was. now that transformation started off well and good. i came home relatively calm. i had a good sense of possibility. hope. promise. it collapsed of course a few months later when my mother passed away. but there was always this hope, promise, idea, thought.

i gradually awoke from the fog. and came to. and snapped to. and all that hope and promise roared back. together with a whole lot of frustration. i remembered that prior to all the numbness setting in i had ceased being in love with my job. right before my mom started her decline i was thinking of branching out.

and it ain't like i remembered gently. it's not like there was a gentle or soft nudging. no. the memories just slammed into me. threw me against a wall. held me there and yelled. screamed in my face. i could see the spittle.

i didn't appreciate those feelings at first. i resented them.

god damn you i thought. don't you realize my position. I AM STUCK HERE. i yelled back.

but that yelling was actually more like a whimper. and it gradually went away. and i started seeing possibility again. it started slowly. a quick offer of work. a realization of my own creative talents together with an appreciation for them. a couple new hobbies and habits.

and then the other big things. i'm not ready to write about them here. but i'm getting closer.

and those other big things are where i started to accept the power of the universe. she's going to look out for me. i may have felt forsaken. or forgotten. or screwed over. but she's there now. guiding and watching and throwing huge lightening bolts of direction at me.

and she's loud. it's nice. comforting and scary as hell all at once. she also keeps forcing me to repeat the mantra - "forget regret." telling me that regret isn't worth it. you can never re-write the past, but nothing is pre-ordained. as mimi tells roger, your life is yours to miss. and it's like i realized mine was flying by.

i do wonder if she has to be SO obvious with the signage. but then again i'm not always the best with the listening so she's just doing what she has to do.

change is coming. i feel positive. a bit lighter in my step. gosh darn it, there may even be a smile or two happening.

now if only i can make the next phase of my working life not require suits. that would be the fulfillment of life's goals.

I drank the Kool Aid yet again.

2010-01-27T22:41:00.003-05:00

I just watched the State of the Union address. Obama's first. After ogling the beautiful outfit Michelle Obama had on. And laughing at the ceremony. The handshaking. The standing. The sitting. The clapping. The posturing. The weird camera shots.

But once it was over. I realized I was energized again.

I remember election night in 2008. I cried. My dad and I sat together in the living room glued to the television mesmerized. My dad kept saying "I can't believe it." My friend called me from the park in Chicago screaming. And I sobbed. It had been less than a month since my mom died and somehow Obama becoming President meant that everything was going to be okay. I have no idea how that worked out in my head. My mother was not a political person. Obama did not know my mom. But somehow these things were related.

But after a few months I started to get worried. Things weren't going so well for President Obama. They still aren't. In all fairness he inherited a whole mess of problems. Probably some of the worst I've ever seen. I can't fathom what he's going to do to make it any better.

Tonight, though, despite the naysayers. Despite the negativity. Despite all of the hesitation. Despite the election of a Republican to Ted Kennedy's seat. Despite all of that - I feel excited again.

It can happen. It can be better. And it will be better.

"We don't quit. I don't quit. Let's seize this moment -- to start anew, to carry the dream forward, and to strengthen our union once more."

being sick sucks

2010-01-26T16:12:00.002-05:00

I'm sick. And that makes me ornery and irritable and generally a bitch.

I'm sorry to everyone I've made suffer through irritability and bitchiness. Of course, if you would just do things the right way (ie my way) there would be no problem.

Being sick in addition to all the other frustrations in my life just amplifies everything. I'm horribly unhappy at work. So unhappy. My boss's voice irks me. My staff makes me want to pull out my hair and yell. And when the mail comes I want to throw it against the wall. Followed by my stapler and computer.

Other areas in my life are not so hot. Really, just the one. And if you know me at all, you know what it is. And I did finally realize what I need to do to deal with that. And I'm scared and terrified and afraid I'll wuss out at the last minute. But enough people have my back (for lack of a better phrase) that I will go through with this.

Overall, I'm in a pretty good place. Except for the one BIG thing and the work thing. And sadly those two things encompass so much of my life that I forget that overall, I'm pretty happy.

And then I go and get sick.

And I become irritable and bitchy and ornery. Or as my boss called me today 'feisty.' But that was because I disagreed with her. (I was right, though.)

And to add to my orneriness (is that a word?) I read things on the internets. So here's a top 5 list of things that are currently pissing me off.

1. Teabaggers. There is so much fundamentally frustrating about their existence that I can't even really begin to explain. There's the name, the constant reference to September 12, 2001, the self-righteous indignation, the Glenn Beck. Ugh.

2. Pro-Life Superbowl Ads. I ... I mean ... WTF?

3. The NYTimes is apparently more concerned with what reporters are wearing to cover the earthquake in Haiti than covering what was happening in Haiti.

4. Joan Rivers is back on Fashion Police. Okay, my problem with this is basically that this show does little more than body snark women and men. And Joan Rivers snarked on Sophia Loren's plastic surgery in a clip that I saw. I know a lot of people love Joan Rivers. I have always found her insufferable. She bugs me and I don't think her commentary about Christina Hendricks' back fat is all that valuable to our cultural development.

Okay, so my blood pressure went up a bit too much during this list. So I'll keep it at 4.

Now it's time to focus on happy things.

The Mean Reds

2010-01-13T23:45:00.000-05:00

I re-watched "Breakfast at Tiffany's" this weekend. Holly Golightly refers to the mean reds. Like the blues, but worse. As Holly puts it:

"No. The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling? "

That feeling has overwhelmed me the past couple months. And it always happens at work. Sometimes before I fall asleep at night. But at least twice a week at work. A switch goes off and I'm free-falling. I decided some months ago that I was done taking care of everyone. I was done making sure that everyone was okay first and then me. I needed to pay some attention to myself at this juncture in my life. I do that in my family. I do that with my friends. And I do it at work. And it's tiring. And even more tiring. And I'm so done.

But in the midst of that I'm terrified. I'll find myself sitting at my desk at work suddenly wanting to pick up my cup and throw it against the wall. I want to jump up and yell. I want to tell people to shut. the. fuck. up! There are mornings I contemplate continuing up route 4 and driving into Collinsville. Skipping work and sitting by the river with my camera and a notebook. I want to just go away.

I'm done.

And when I realize how done I am, I get terrified and cold and don't quite know what I'm terrified of exactly. The Mean Reds.

It was especially strong today. As always it turned on for no reason and I didn't know how to calm it down. It just lingered. All day. I had a meeting tonight and it was awful. Not only was it a waste of my time, it just made me feel less than a person. I felt belittled. I felt useless. And I was full of so much anger. So much anger.

As I fumed and swore and drove around to quiet my anger before driving home I decided to stop at a gas station for a cup of coffee. I walked inside and ran into someone I have not seen in nearly three years. For the sake of what followed, I'll just call him Todd.

Todd and I had known each other for a long time. I think we may have even loved each other. But I was in a bad place. As I was for most of my 20s. I couldn't focus on him or on anyone else in the way he probably deserved. So he left. Did he break my heart? No. Did I break his? Probably not. It was never at that level. But maybe it should have been.

In a lot of ways, Todd is who I still look for. The way he made me laugh. The way he challenged me. Who I was when I was with him. I miss that person. I really liked who Todd saw me as.

Running into him at a gas station in Guilford (or whatever town that stop is in) was probably the best thing that could happen for me tonight. It was like we never missed a beat. He gave me his smile. I smiled back. We hugged. I bought my coffee. And we sat in my car catching up. I stared at him for a few minutes. I was surprised how different he looked and yet he was completely the same. I thought back to our last few conversations before he moved away. Things were said. Things were done. But I don't regret them. I know he doesn't. And here we sat tonight talking like we had never been apart.

He told me about his new life out west (he was visiting family and flying back tomorrow). I told him about my life here. And I yelled about the meeting.

His response "Get over it."

From anyone else that would have made me mad. From Todd, I knew it was right. Todd just said, the anger gets you no where. Only madder. It's energy not well spent. He quoted Todd Snider. "Life's too short to hate."

And it's true.

The Mean Reds are going to hit me. I'm going to suffer through them. It's part of who I am. It's part of where I am in this life. But I can't spend so much time with my anger. Getting angry at work is getting me no where and it's turning me into someone I do not want to be. Seeing Todd tonight reminded me of that. I don't want to be angry. I don't want to be bitter.

It may be another three years before I see Todd. The emotions tonight were all over the place. I'll be processing those for a while. I remembered just how much I missed him. But more than missing Todd, I really miss who I was when he was around me. I was a better version of me. So much has happened in three years and in many ways my life stopped for a year. I stopped. But it's all coming back to me at an obscenely fast pace. And I'm ready to go again.

Will I never get angry at work again? Probably not. But I'll try real hard to remember how useless it is. And Get Over It. Because Life is too short to hate. The full quote from Todd Snider:

She said life's too short to worry

Life's too long to wait

Too short not to love everybody

Life's too long to hate

Happy Christmas!

2009-12-24T09:35:00.002-05:00

Hi Mom,

Merry Christmas! I miss you. I think that's it. I've been really a mess the past week - at least inside my head. I started crying during Elf!

I thought it would be easier this year. I really did. I thought that once we got through the first Christmas, the next one would be easier. It's just as hard. I think it might be harder. Last year I worked so hard to make it perfect. I wanted to relish in your memory and make it the greatest Christmas. You loved Christmas. Didn't you? Christmas Eve was your holiday. I wanted to keep that spirit and that memory alive. And maybe I broke down while watching some sappy chick flick on HBO, but I still made it through. I had the energy.

This year, though. This year I just want to curl up in a ball and pretend none of this is happening. I have so much to do today. And I don't want to do it any of it. All I can think about is how much I miss you. How much I just want you to be here and give me a hug. To tell me I'm doing okay and everything will be fine.

Everything seems wrong lately. But I thought about it - while listening to the Glee soundtrack and suddenly getting sad because you'd adore that show - I think I'm so frustrated because of you. I think it's you making me realize how much better I am than the job I'm in. It's you that made me pull the sewing machine out. It's you giving me the creativity to play with gluten free recipes. It's you that made me finally speak up for how unhappy I am at work. It's you making me reach out to family I have not talked to in years. (I have to ask though - is it you that keeps helping me do silly things like that time I tripped walking into a meeting? Because, well it's a little uncomfortable, but also hilarious. So thanks?)

I don't yet know how to make everything not wrong. I wish I could snap my fingers and make everything better. I wish it didn't hurt so much whenever I remember that you are not here. I get so scared that I'll forget you.

Let's make a deal - you keep reminding me to figure out how to make things right and not wallow in how wrong everything is and I'll get up and clean and make sure this is a great Christmas.

Okay.

Thanks. I miss you mom. I miss you everyday. I love you. I hope you know that.

Merry Christmas!

Love, Me.

This Saturday NIght

2009-12-12T19:18:00.002-05:00

My Christmas shopping is sort of on it's way. I'm not horribly behind. But I feel disorganized. I'm not shopping tonight. Instead, I'm attempting to record Led Zeppelin's Coda album onto my computer from the original vinyl.

It's an interesting process. I'm not entirely sure how this is going. But if it works, I'll give it to my brother for his birthday tomorrow.

But here's what my Saturday night looks like.

Fancy this - a post

2009-12-06T09:05:00.004-05:00

It's been some time. I am not entirely sure what I have to write about this morning. I've been working on getting my Christmas gifts all figured out and also figure myself out.

It's been an educational few weeks. A few months back I decided it was time to throw myself into trying to date again. I'm not whole heartedly into it. But I am so scared of it that I think I need to do it in order to overcome the terrifying feeling of talking to a strange guy. And I'm learning that I might be projecting an incredibly guarded image that is turning away those I'm attracted to. And I tend to attract people who I don't feel compatible with.

I realized after an unfortunate movie date (movie was great) that while I was happy to have the second date and go through that experience. That's all it was. Just another experience to check off and move forward. I had no interest in this person. Everything he said or expressed grated on me. I could have maybe given him more time, but I played sick and left. I just could not stand being around someone with a world view so divergent from me. I am not looking for someone who is exactly like me, but I wouldn't mind someone who at least viewed the world in a similar way. I have always had this belief that I can make an impact in this world and make it better (hence my decision to work in public interest law.) This guy had given up. And that to me is sad. He says he's a very happy person because he has such few expectations that when things go well, he's really happy. But that's not me. I like the feeling of anticipation and hope and even when I am occasionally crushed in defeat - it's so fun to have tried.

I realized that I need to live the way I want to live. I can't live afraid or nervous or focused on the negative. It took this non-important event to make me realize that I need to change that. I need to really remember what it is I enjoy about life. And be the genuinely happy person I want to be. And I think I am. I need to start projecting that.

I'll deal with any post date aftermath as it comes. I am a little worried at the fact that his work brings him to my place of work occasionally. But hopefully he got a clue yesterday and if not, I'll just have to be honest.

Or get a new job. Which is actually not a bad idea since I am so anti my current job right now.

But that's that. From this moment on, I choose to embrace happiness. At least keep telling myself that I can be happy and I can keep dreaming to make things better.

And a picture - I saw Rent a few weeks back. And I think that a picture of when I saw that show is probably fitting for a post about hope and living each day.

and the slacker rears her head

2009-11-23T11:21:00.003-05:00

I am a slacker right now. I was very not all there last week. And I'm trying to re-focus my energies. This time of year is chaos for me (as well as the rest of the universe.) I am determined to bring back my creative energies and get some projects done around the house.

I'm also determined to not be shopping everyday of December. I think I have a few gift ideas planned and I need to just carry them out. Magazine subscriptions for the youngsters, perhaps a couple day trips here and there, and the knitting. Oh good god, the knitting... I have decided to call it the month of knitting dangerously - you can follow along here.

I'm already behind.

This weekend though, I went with my dad to a 50th Wedding Anniversary. And if anything could make this cynical girl shed a tear - it was listening to the groom announce his neverending love for his bride. As he put it "we're still riding in that car." Beautiful. My dad had a tough time working up the strength to go to this shinding. He did NOTHING for a few days. But this is him looking dapper in poor lighting. The photo was taken with my iPhone. So forgive me!!!

Then on Sunday, I saw Rent. With Jess. She's quoting a lot again. As am I. I'm also waking up with such questions as did Benny actually love Mimi or was it all about power? And why am I such a Mark with a dash of Roger thrown in? But who would I want to be? Probably Angel.

But, then those heels really would not work well with my plantar fascitis issues...

merry christmas...

2009-11-17T22:41:00.003-05:00

ugh... why is it already christmas?

oops -

2009-11-15T20:06:00.004-05:00

I forgot to post pictures that past few days. I have taken some - but they aren't the greatest. I'm sort of at a loss for words right now so I will leave you with a shot of what is likely the last yellow rose of the year.

and my niece Anna jumping rope in the magic hour of outdoor light...

And lastly - a great book for everyone to read. It's Awesome.

birthday "mehs"

2009-11-11T20:14:00.007-05:00

today is my birthday. i turn the ripe old age of 32. actually i really have no problem with the age. i personally think it's a great time to be in my thirties and that, well, my twenties were a ridiculous time with lots of personal issues and my thirties started out a little shaky - but seriously it can only get better. right?

but, today i went into new york city with my little cousin - who is well not so little, she's going to be 21 in just a couple weeks. we had no agenda except to maybe check out the TKTS booth for what was half price and grab me a gluten free cupcake at Babycakes NYC. we ended up saying no to a show since the weather was great for just walking and wandering and i DID have my camera with me. so that's what we did.

it was a good day. i got my gluten free cupcake (mocha - soooooo good) and i played with my camera and left the city very calm and relaxed. really - a good birthday.

but, it's just a weird day. it doesn't feel like my birthday. my dad is slightly ornery. my brothers are unable to commit to a day to have cake together. and i don't really want to make a big deal. but now i'm having dinner at one house on one night and another house on another. which is fine. i do want to make everyone happy - but at the same time... it's my damn birthday. make me happy! i know that at times i have ridiculous expectations. and i'm trying to breathe in, breathe out and let it all go. and have faith the universe will look out for me.

because, well, i'm done. i'm done with getting upset because it feels like everything is too difficult. i'm done with being sad that things don't work out the way envisioned.

so, my intention for this 33rd year of life is to have faith in the universe and accept that sometimes, things are what they are. and they work out the way they are meant to be. it's not easy for me to do. i do not live that way. i can sometimes be a cynical bastard that views her personal life negatively and assumes it won't work out. but that takes a lot of energy and i need my energy for important things - like taking pictures, seeking out live music, knitting, obsessively listening to west side story and rent, and reading all the damn books in my bookshelf. so, i don't have a drink in my hand, but if i did - i would raise it to this resolve. here goes nothing...

OH and some pictures...

affirm this

2009-11-10T09:08:00.002-05:00

i took an online course on building dreams called mondo beyondo. i highly highly HIGHLY recommend it.

it doesn't do much. it doesn't lead to everlasting change. but it puts your fears out there. and for me, it taught me to trust in the universe a bit more. i tend to shrink away from the universe and view all things as negative. and i still do that. five weeks won't change that. but, i have been whispering affirmations to myself a bit more. things like "i can trust my open heart" and "forget regret" and "this dream will carry you".

i'm not entirely sure what my dreams are at all times, but i have found myself being more vocal and taking more chances in these few weeks. and hopefully these chances will lead to bigger things. even something as simple as posting a picture a day for a month or so. it's forcing me to use my creative energies in ways i didn't quite do before.

pretty pictures

2009-11-08T17:04:00.002-05:00

I took this yesterday while I set myself up in a little home based photo clinic. I thought it was a good day to play with f-stops.

I also spent the evening at the CT Roller Girls last bout of the season. Now that. That is fun. So much fun. If I wasn't chicken shit and if I knew how to skate - perhaps I would consider trying out. But I want to go see another bout. I hate that the season is over.

And this morning I watched some soccer - I know shocking. But this time it was my 6 year old niece's soccer clinic. It was a bunch of little girls running around and it was fantastic. Truly wonderful. No elbows were thrown. And no one was injured. Makes me want to join a women's league.

black crows...

2009-11-06T18:08:00.002-05:00

This was what greeted me as I left the house.

That picture would look substantially better if I had my new zoom lens which unfortunately did not arrive until this evening. Here is the inaugural picture.

These would be the mums sitting on my front porch. Up super close.

General Lee?

2009-11-05T22:24:00.002-05:00

Or not.

goodbye october...

2009-11-01T18:49:00.003-05:00

i like this picture. the colors. the way it smelled outside when i took it. and the bend. there's so much potential. a whole new world might be around the bend.

my night in tarrytown

2009-10-31T11:32:00.003-04:00

i don't know if i'll make a habit of going back to tarrytown often. however, many of my favorite musicians appear to like playing at the music hall, so maybe i will. but for now, my night there will be memorialized by images of hanging witches and ghosts, the question of just how many tarrytowns there are, creepy scarecrows, the need for TWO chinese restaurants and brazilian restaurants, and todd snider.

todd was great to watch. as were the other fine gentleman (bruce robison and robert earl keen). it was my first exposure to either of them. i knew who robert earl keen was because of the song "BEER RUN" but i knew none of his music.

it was a wonderful night. solidified my todd snider fandom. i wish i had discovered the use of words as we walked by him having dinner at the greek restaurant. but i like to think i just opted to not bother him while he was having a delightful dinner with his family and friends.

i'm sticking with that story.

A new habit

2009-10-29T11:21:00.001-04:00

a photo a day... if i can't write, i can click

I love Todd Snider

2009-10-21T11:24:00.002-04:00

This is not a surprise to anyone. Least of all me. Most exciting right now is the fact that in less than two weeks I will be seeing the man live. This will be my first time. I am beyond excited. Super excited.

I wish it was already October 30. Thinking about this milestone, I decided to come up with what might be my top 10 favorite Todd Snider songs. I say might because this list could drastically change tomorrow.

So here goes - in no particular order ...

Doublewide Blues
The Ballad Of The Devil's Backbone
Money, Compliments, and Publicity
Broke
All That Matters
Feel Like I'm Falling In Love
Vinyl Records
The Devil You Know
America's Favorite Pasttime
Happy To Be Here.

Has it really been a year?

2009-10-07T22:04:00.011-04:00

I call this picture Mermaid mom.

My mom died one year ago tomorrow. I honestly don't know how that happened. Where did the year go? What do I have to show for it?

I guess the question is what happens now? I've been waiting for this year to be over. And now it's here and I have no idea what to do.

I feel like I should mark it somehow. But all I do is think about where I was exactly one year ago. Last week I was at a meeting. The entire time I thought about how I was at the same place for a similar meeting. I even parked in almost the same place. Hell, it may have been the exact same parking spot.

On Sunday, I went to my brother's house to have dinner with his in-laws. A year ago, we did the same thing. That night was when everything started.

This whole week has been a mess of "last year at this time." My mom passed away on a Wednesday. That would have technically been today. This whole night people were over. I remember eating chicken and drinking wine. I remember calling the few people I wanted to talk to. I remember sitting on my porch talking to my friend Sara and feeling a little shaky but shocked at how calm I was. I remember sitting on the floor in a corner of the "green room" and talking to my friend Jess. I remember that I had on a red dress. I wore that to the hospital. I thought my mom would like it. She loved the color red. She didn't notice. I believe she had no idea I was there. I haven't worn it since. I remember ripping it off and putting on a t-shirt and jeans for the rest of the night.

I remember everything. The feelings and images are burned in my head. I remember that last hour. I remember the feeling in my body when we had to make a decision. I can still remember the feeling of the nurse's hand on my back when we sat in the room.

I remember it all. But I can't believe it happened. I'm still a little blown away. I still catch my breath at realizing she isn't here.

I am terrified of forgetting her. Or of just remembering the parts that were really bad. She had been sick most of my life. I don't want to just remember that.

Obviously, it's been hard. And I feel like tomorrow has to mean more than just one year. Does it all change? After tomorrow, nothing is new. The new reality is over. It's no longer a matter of "This is the first ______ since my mom died." I've already experienced it. Now what?

I miss that smile.

My mom and I at my niece's softball game last summer.

My mom and I. I think I'm not even one yet. I had massive ringlets at my first birthday.

My parents at Balboa Island.
I love this picture.

My mom and I went up to the Berkshires a few years back for some shopping and lunch. We stopped off in Stockbridge where this picture was taken. We had just had lunch at Alice's Restaurant.

the perils of being a soccer fan

2009-10-04T11:06:00.005-04:00

I love the sport. I do. I grew up on it. I've already written about why I love it. There's something absolutely magical about going to a match and following a team. I don't think there's anything unique about my feelings. Talk to any fan. Any sport. Any thing, really. A die hard baseball fan will tell you about the joy they encounter while at a game. Regardless of park and teams playing. Talk to a musical theater fanatic and they will tell you about how amazing it is to see a show. Regardless of whether it's on Broadway or in their local high school gym.

That's how I feel about soccer.

But I'm also a fan. I also want my team to do well. I want the boys in light blue of Napoli to make me proud. And do they?

No.

At least not lately.

Today the boys lost to Roma. And is pisses me off. I know I need to not take it personally. These things happen. Teams lose. But this particular concoction of players are individually quite talented. And usually when individually talented players get together some good things can happen, regardless of egos and outsized personalities. (I'm looking at every Brazilian national team ever.) Not so with these guys. I just finished watching the match and it felt like my niece's travel league of 9 year olds were playing Roma. Honestly though, Roma looked like a slightly more organized high school team with a couple good shots on goal and then a tightened up defense.

In other words, this game was not a pretty one.

It also most likely marks the end of Roberto Donadoni as manager for Napoli. If managers were scored on looking amazing in suits - Donadoni would be tops. The guy cuts a fine figure in his exquisitely tailored suit on the side lines. No, really. He's a good looking guy.

But unfortunately, that's not enough. I like the guy. I like his laid back appearance. But something has not been cutting it. Maybe he just lacks the fire. Exhibit A is his experience as National Team coach during Euro 2008. Maybe he's not inspiring his players. I watch a lot of Friday Night Lights and it has taught me all I care to know about American football. And one thing it demonstrates is the power of inspiring coaching. If Coach Taylor was managing Napoli, those boys would be having emotional breakthroughs everyday on the pitch that can only improve their game. Even if Matt Saracen gets benched.

But I digress.

Donadoni is probably out. And maybe that's a good thing. The season is still early. Last year at this time, Napoli was on fire. At one point they were actually in first place. It's time to shake things up. And maybe that shaking involves a coach who can inspire. My dream pick: Robert Mancini.

He also looks good on the pitch in a suit. But I loved his work with Inter. I also remember watching him play with Sampdoria when I was a kid.

On a total side note, I am going to jump on the "BRING CASSANO TO THE NATIONAL TEAM" bandwagon. I'll be secretary. Seriously, the man is inventive in a way that so few players are. Sure, he's got a past of "Attitude problems." He wrote a book talking about how he basically didn't care about what people told him to do when he was younger. But, um, Sampdoria is at the top of the table. And it's because of him. They beat the unbeatable Inter. And it's because of him. And, well, the Italian national team needs some flair and attitude.

You won't get that from smiley Cannavaro or Buffon or any of the other national team mainstays.

But these frustrations, these anxiety inducing mornings, the mood setting experiences for the end of the weekend are what being a soccer fan is about. It's why I signed up. The agony of watching your team struggle and then (ideally, hopefully) win gloriously is why I keep watching. Again, it's not unique to me. It's not unique to this sport. But it's my experience.

And maybe next week I'll be writing about a completely revived Napoli.

Or not.

It's amazing what you can find

2009-10-01T19:44:00.007-04:00

These two boxes had been in my parent's basement, (well, my basement) as long as I can remember. In fact, the address label on the box said 1968.

It appears my grandmother bought them. They were ordered through I tried a google search to see what I could come up with for Signet China. And apparently there is a lot. But I was under the impression it was a catalog as well. I will keep investigating.

But we have the address label.

And a warning to be careful.

And the boxes are actually sort of cool.

I remember seeing the boxes when I was a kid. They had always been in the basement taking up space. My dad would get annoyed because they were in the wine cellar portion of the basement. And took up space. I remember being told at some point the dishes were mine. That my mom had picked them out for me. Or maybe that was my interpretation. I mean, I was probably about 10.

Clearly since the dishes were bought way, way before I was born (nine years), they were not bought for me. My grandmother bought them and had them sent to my parent's house. For whatever reason, she did not give them to the intended person and my mom held on to them. Nine years later when a little girl was born (moi), it was decided they would become part of my hope chest.

And voila.

It's kind of nutty. The craziest bit is that they are green. Green is my favorite color.

It's almost as if there is some sort of psychic intervention at play...

Sparkle?

2009-09-26T21:59:00.004-04:00

I have been long gone from this blog. I don't know why it happened. But it did. I could make excuses. But, it's better to just pick up and move on.

And here I am.

I've been crazy with work. Crazy with trying to manage my dad. And then I went on vacation.

I wanted my sparkle. That's what I most craved on my week away. And while the sparkle was not exactly found, the vacation was wonderful. Can't quite say what the best part of vacation was.

Was it finally making it to the Pemetic summit? Was it the kayaking trip on the bay? Was it Improv Acadia?

I don't know.

I think the parts I most liked were the parts where my mind shut down. The mornings where we sat in and watched Charmed. Or the nights (okay, just once) where we sat by the water with drink in hand talking and listening to water lapping at our feet.

That's what I needed. I needed to shut down and not think and not obsess and just let go. I was hoping for some feeling of sparkle and shine. I had this hope that I'd find my creative juices.

But just doing nothing and relaxing and letting go. That was enough.

And now I'm home. And work has resumed crazy. But I can at least remember the happy moments of just a few days ago. That's what needs to carry me through. I can't regret what I didn't do. But I need to relish in what I did do.

It did strengthen my resolve to ramp things up in my own life. Travel around more. Visit more people. Really figure out what it is I want to do in life.

But tonight, I'm taking it slow. I spent the day getting some work done in the house. And now I just need to settle in and do some reading and good sleeping.

Family ...

2009-08-23T11:39:00.002-04:00

Family stresses me out. Maybe it's my overthinking tendencies, but my goodness! How can I not?

I spent the night with a bunch of cousins who I don't see that often. It was also the first time I saw any of them since my mom died. It's hard not to walk into this restaurant and wonder what they are thinking. It's also hard to wonder why I choose to go to these events. It's hard to sit there and clearly not be part of the conversation with these moms. They all have kids within months of each other. They were all married with a year or so of one another.

I went out to meet a relative visiting from South America. She was lovely. However, when it came time to talk to me. I froze up. I don't know why.

Actually I do. I always feel inferior around these relatives. Despite the fact that I am an attorney. Despite my life experiences. Despite my grades in school. Despite it all, I feel like I don't compare. Why the hell do I let them get to me in this way?

Is it because I'm not married? Is it because I don't have the same interests? Is it because I never actually hung out with them? I don't know. But once a year or so I get invited to these dinners and I go. I go because I want to be included. Or part of their clique. Or so I think before I go. And usually as I go through the doors I start to get a constriction in my throat and regret my decision. I have a fine time throughout the evening. And I did last night.

But I find myself amused by certain things. Like when I was asked if I was born 1982. Or when someone remembered how big a fan of Hugh Grant I was. Or when I kept being referred to as the smart one.

I mean, really? Do they just not have anything to talk about with me?

But I go. The evening is behind me. And now I can put it behind me. Follow everyone on facebook and wait until the next one in a year.

I remembered #10

2009-08-20T15:51:00.003-04:00

I remembered my #10 from my last post. I had forgotten about it because since going gluten free, I simply had to remove it from my vocabulary. But here it is.

10. Malt vinegar. I miss malt vinegar. I miss going to a pub, ordering fries, dousing them in salt and malt vinegar and having a beer.

I remembered today since I was at Vaughn's eating the Glenkerry Potatoes and saw the malt vinegar on the table. It made me momentarily sad. But the Glenkerry Potatoes are absolutely amazing. I can eat those. They don't need malt vinegar on them.

10 THINGS I MISS MOST SINCE GOING GLUTEN FREE

2009-08-17T20:21:00.004-04:00

It's been a year and 12 days since I received my official celiac disease diagnosis. While it's been difficult and I'm still trying to figure out what I can eat and not eat and what exactly is still bothering me (bye bye soy milk), I would never want to go back. Here is what I wrote then.

And most of it holds true. I think I have a fairly good attitude about it. Usually. Oh I whine. Oh I make a point of pointing out how difficult it is for me. But for the most part I try to be upbeat about it. So I have to order really differently at restaurants. And maybe it's not the easiest to visit someone (who is not already living a gluten free life). But if giving up gluten means I won't have horrible stomach pains anymore and I stand a better chance of not having the massive health issues my entirely family appears to be plagued with, then adios gluten.

BUT, there are 10 things I miss since starting this lifestyle.

Italian bakeries. Bye bye sfogliatelle, pasticiotti, and cannolis. I did however learn to make gluten free pizzelles this weekend. See for yourself.
Being able to run out to the local cafe and order a sandwich.
Not having to call every restaurant before heading out to see what they're gluten free options are.
A good loaf of fresh baked bread. I'm still trying to make this happen.
Having a beer at a sporting event. The sangria just isn't the same.
Pretzels. (But when in the city and in need of a quick snack, cashews are a good substitution.)
Going out for pizza.
Not having to worry about cross-contamination.
Cornmeal bagels from that place in Elmwood.
Um... Honestly. I can't actually come up with a tenth. And really #9 was sort of a stretch.

I do miss these things. But again, I will eventually adjust. Or figure out how to make an excellent gluten free option. Not just a "decent" gluten free option. Seriously, can anyone make gluten free phyllo dough?

water plus sun equal good saturday

2009-08-03T00:04:00.003-04:00

IMG_0295, originally uploaded by laliaberry.

I spent saturday doing some things that needed to be done in the house followed by an afternoon/evening at the shore.

It was a day capped off with an hour or more ride on my brother's boat where we got to catch the sunset as we rode back to the marina. Stupidly, I didn't bring my camera around for the fun, but did have my iPhone. It amazes me how great the iPhone photo quality is. I mean, it's a phone - and that's the shot. Imagine what my Canon Rebel could have done.

See some other iPhone snaps here.

At what point did I become a grown up

2009-07-30T09:27:00.003-04:00

I don't know when it happened, but I'm not sure I like it. Somewhere along the line I became responsible. Had a steady job for more than 5 years. Have "savings." Debate whether or not a new hoodie is a necessary purchase. Plan for a well balanced meal. Or egads! Actually got rid of some of the tank tops and tshirts that had been my uniform for years.

But at the same time, that other part of me thinks I'm really still fifteen. I bought a pair of red converse because Gwen Cooper wore them the first season of Torchwood. Wearing pigtails (when my hair allowed it) was the norm. I like the big blockbuster comic book movies that have become the style each summer. I still laugh at stupid jokes. And I still have a fine appreciation for The State.

I am not sure when this all happened. It shocked me this week when I was told I look my age. I have never looked my age. When I was a kid, I looked older. And when I was 24 I would get carded buying cigarettes. And now, I "look my age." I was assured that was not a bad thing. The exact quote was

"You look like someone in her late 20s/early 30s."

Granted, I know that's not old. But that also means that when I consider dating someone the age range is not 25-30. But 35-40. And THAT is a scary consideration. When did that become my demographic? My knee jerk reaction is that I couldn't consider a 39 year old to grasp my pop cultural references. Until I realize that "OH MY GOD, I HAVE THE SAME POP CULTURAL REFERENCES AS A 39 YEAR OLD!!!"

Rationally, I know this is not old. I know that I'm only a scary eight years away from that number. I know that I best get along with people older than me in most aspects of life. I know that I've always been beyond responsible and together in this life. And in that respect have always acted more mature than my years might be. I also know that in the great scheme of things 31 is pretty freakin young.

But if we all thought rationally, where would the fun be in that? There would be no more late night mind ramblings. There would be no more over reactions to simple things in life. Goodbye to overthinking how that date went. And that life, while calm and serene, would be a little bit boring methinks.

I'm doing my best to remember that there are plusses to being a grown up. I can get on any ride at the amusement park. I can buy myself things without worrying about having to ask mom or dad for money. I own a car I dig (Hi Severus!) I am respected in my field and people actually seek out my opinion. (That is also a shocking moment in the growing up.) I've had a lot more time to better form my opinions on life and thoughts. I grew up with some of the better pop cultural experiences. (The State, Tommy Boy, Colin Firth as Darcy, Edward Scissorhands, Buffy - the way vampires should be, Green Day)

While I still do not know when it happened or how, I'm grateful for these little things. I also really like the little crinkles around my eyes when I smile.

And while this song doesn't quite fit this post, it's been in my head all week. The Todd Snider obsession will be here all summer. Stay tuned.

Anyone seen my voice?

2009-07-28T13:15:00.002-04:00

I have been trying to write again. Get back in the habit and be productive with my writing and other creative endeavors. I have a lot of half starts in my house right now and I'd like to be finish a couple of them.

But it's been really hard. So hard.

I sit down to write and it seems like I've forgotten how to do it. I feel like my stories are no longer in my voice. I used to know my voice really well. In fact, I thought I had a strong voice. One that was me and sometimes quite intuitive and articulate.

But now, the voice is foreign to me. It speaks haltingly and forced. I don't know what happened. It's like it just up and vanished and ran away. Maybe it is participating in an exchange program with another voice? When it comes back it will be stronger and more vibrant then ever?

This week I set about with goals. I've established where I want to write in my house (Incidentally, it's a room I've been jokingly referring to as the creative room since my sewing machine, yarn, and other such materials are sitting in there.) I'm deciding what my writing days and times will be. I'm even thinking about a writing ritual - maybe a piece of clothing or a hat or a scarf. I have the chair. It's orange.

I'm hoping that these baby steps will help my voice return. Because, frankly, it's absence is beginning to piss me off.

ahhh music

2009-07-22T09:37:00.004-04:00

I like listening to music. It's a favorite pasttime. You'd be hardpressed to ever find me anywhere without music on. Even if I am not conscious of what I'm listening to, it's there.

For some people, the tv serves that role. The role of crutch. It's just easier for me to do things if music is on. I can work better. I can sit and read better. I can pull weeds out of the back patio better.

All around, it's better with music.

Lately, I've been trying to buy less and just appreciate what it is I own. I've also been spending a lot of time playing with pandora. I love the suggestions pandora gives me and the new ideas. And it's easy to deal with at work. I don't have to remember my iPod. I don't have to hope I have batteries in my speakers. It's all there and good to go.

One of my favorite things to do is hear live music. Sitting at a bar, drink in hand, listening to the band play. I don't do it nearly enough. Sadly, there's a scarcity to the closely accessible and affordable live music in my area. I'm not a fan of the big giant concert experience. I like quiet. I like intimate. And that is in the scarcity 'round these parts.

I'm not necessarily gifted or blessed with musical gifts. But, I try. I've been taking guitar lessons the past year and a half and will actually quit next week. Take a break. Play as I feel inspired. I might take up lessons again in the future. But right now, I'm not feeling it the way I used to. But it's been fun to learn songs. I can play "Blackbird." And "Driver 8." And a few other songs here and there.

Listening to music reminds me that I need to bring creativity into my life more. I need to work that in to my day to day more often. It saddens me that I've fallen into profession where I feel stifled creatively. And I don't get the chance to act on those impulses.

The plan is to learn how to bring that in more. Suggestions?

In honor of the song I know how to play best on guitar I am embedding this video I watched a while ago. It made me weepy. I found it at http://www.superherodesigns.com (a great blog.)

Happy Bloody Monday

2009-07-20T15:35:00.003-04:00

It's Monday. And it has acted like Monday.

The thing is - it started sooo well. I was downright happy driving into work. The traffic on route 4 did not bother me. The music playing through my car stereo speakers was quite happy. There was Bruce Springsteen. Some Journey. A little bit of "The Little Mermaid." Yes, Sebastian, "life is the bubbles." Indeed.

And then I got into work. First, there was no staff. And that was wrong.

And then they trickled in. I had to have a conversation about why. And it was not the conversation I wanted to have first thing in the morning. I can't take care of everyone. And I can't force people to do various things. But I wish I could. I wish I could tell my staff person that she was required to take the next two weeks off and address her personal issues because it was interfering with her work. And it is interfering with her work. And the nature of what we do and what I do, it does come back to me. Because I'm her boss. And therefore, I have done a crap job of training. Isn't that how it looks to the public? I'm the one who has to eat the crow and own up for their mistakes because I'm the one who hears the complaint.

I'm frustrated and angry and trying to figure out what it is I'm doing right now.

I've been playing caretaker my entire life and it would be nice to just say fuck it, my turn!

As I told someone earlier, incompetence does have its benefits.

question

2009-07-17T15:58:00.002-04:00

Would it be a little too self promoting to get one of my neices or nephew this t-shirt?

Yeah.

I thought not. Unfortunately, my freakishly tall little relatives have already outgrown the sizes available.

today's music... while multi-tasking

2009-07-10T09:52:00.003-04:00

I had a fun ride into work today. I was groggy as hell, but the music was good.

1. Driver 8 - REM (first song I learned on guitar that felt like I was playing guitar)
2. If My Heart Was a Car - Old 97s (song that got me running again last year)
3. Spanish Bombs - The Clash (how can you not love this song)
4. Restless Heart Syndrome - Green Day (it's Green Day!!!)
5. Find Another Girl - The Hives (I always forget this song...)

And since coming into work, I've been on the phone with an attorney who loves to talk. It's helping perk me up a bit. That and the cup of coffee at my side. But I just clicked on pandora - Todd Snider Station - the music acting as my soundtrack to this conversation so far has been great. (the conversation has been about 30 minutes so far.)

1. The Believer - Rhett Miller (umm, two days in a row my Todd Snider Station has opened with Rhett Miller)
2. Niteclub - Old 97s (pandora looooves Rhett Miller)
3. The Crane Wife 3 - The Decemberists (I forgot about them. Not incredibly crazy abotu them anymore, but still a fun surprise)
4. For All I Know - James McMurtry (a pandora discovery)
5. Tillamook County Jail - Todd Snider (so, the fifth song into the Todd Snider station is ... Todd Snider)
6. Jerusalem - Steve Earle (I have become a bigger and bigger fan of his stuff)
7. Hover - Rhett Miller (seriously, pandora has such a crush on Rhett Miller. Not that I blame them. He is crushable.)
8. Walkin' Cane - Robert Earl Keen (okay, so previous to this pandora station, I only knew Robert Earl Keen as a character in Todd Snider's song "B-E-E-R Run". But I like anything that opens with a slide guitar.)
9. Fortunate Son - Todd Snider (one of the best covers ever. hands down.)
10. Rich Man's War - Steve Earle (one of my favorite Earle songs.)

So that's about it for now. Phone call's over. This guy loves to talk and I get sucked in each time because the conversation is usually good. He's one of the few attorneys I work with that treats me as an equal in conversation. It's rarer than you think in my present line of work. But it's getting much better.

ummm.... time delay

2009-07-06T21:27:00.002-04:00

That conviction to post more sort of fell by the wayside.

Oops.

But, here I am. A new meandering of thoughts for those of you reading to process. Thoughts running through my head today include:

1. I have a great article idea for a sports writer to take on. I'd write on, but I don't exactly have the resources. Or patience to write it. But I want to read the article.

2. I'm nearing the end of my guitar lessons. It's been great. And I've loved them. But I need to proactively start thinking about a house. I need to put that $100-$125 a month aside and focus on a down payment for a house.

3. I'm proactively thinking about buying a house one day.

4. One late night a few weeks back, I stumbled across Bridget Jones' Diary. I love this movie. I adore Renee Zellweger in this one role. I love Darcy. I love Hugh Grant as Wick.. I mean Daniel. It amused me to no end that Gauis Baltar or James Callis as he is known when not on Battlestar Galactica is in this movie as Tom.
But as I watched the ending, I got angry. Specifically angry with Darcy. When I first read the book I was about 21 and I thought Bridget was ridiculous. I could not stand her. She was everything that was wrong with how women were perceived. Then I watched the movie when I was about 24 and I thought, hmm... there's something here. I mean, yeah, she's ridiculous. But I have had those nights singing aloud in my home holding a bottle of vodka. And each time I've re-watched it, I've found something to relate to. The career blundering. The ridiculous flirtations at work. The concerns about what my place in this world is. The attempt to reconcile familial insanity with own insanity. The failure to live up to familial expectations. The movie has grown on me.
Except, well, I got angry a few weeks back. Why? Mark Darcy read Bridget Jones' diary. He reads her diary. That's just wrong. It's reprehensible really. And, previously when watching I was just like Bridget - "Oh noesss... I can't believe it. He read her diary. And she said all those awful things about him. I hope she catches up to him and they can have a romantic kiss in the street." But this time around I thought - "Who the fuck does he think he is? Just picking up her diary and reading it like that? What the hell?"
It seems so basic. We have diaries or journals. They are private. Yes, my blog is a journal of sorts. But I've chosen to make it public. And as such there is a lot edited out. I don't give my inner most thoughts here. Those are in my journal. Which sits by my bed on my bedside table. Those thoughts are for me and for me alone. Maybe one day when I am long dead and gone, someone can find some cultural significance. But really, I'm not that opposed to the Jane Austen family tradition of burning letters and journals upon death. If anyone were to read my journal without my permission, I would feel so violated. Even if that person was Colin Firth. Even if that person turned out to be my very own Darcy (although frankly I may be holding out for a Captain Wentworth these days), I'd be hurt. And angry. And would probably run out into the street to find him. But not for a romantic kiss in the street. I'd confront him about how angry I was.

This was my big revelation about Bridget Jones' Diary this summer. I'll probably continue to watch the movie whenever I stumble across it. And maybe I'll ignore this minor moment of irateness. It was late at night after all. But for now, it's a little less than awesome.

5. While I understand the cultural significance of Michael Jackson dying, I'm a bit dismayed at how much media coverage has been taken up by it. His memorial service was one of the main stories on tonight's NBC news with Brian Williams. The 3-4 minute segment came right before a one minute blurb about US soldiers dying in a roadside bomb in Afghanistan. That turned my stomach a bit.

6. I am thinking about buying red lipstick. But I don't know if I can pull it off.

7. I love listening to Todd Snider.

and lastly, 8. I need a vacation. Badly.

Unexpected

2009-06-25T14:20:00.002-04:00

It's well established that I enjoy the soccer. That's not a shock to anyone. I also really enjoy it when teams I like win. And even better than that is when the team I like has a hard luck story.

Like, say, the only way the team can advance to the next round of a tournament is through math and goal differential. And that happens. Yeah, its exciting. Unlikely as can be. But it is exciting when that happens. But it rarely happens.

And it never happens that I can recall with US Men's National Team (USMNT for short). But it did with the Confederations Cup this past week. And even more improbable than beating Egypt by 3 to advance is beating their semi-final opponent. That opponent is Spain. About to set a record for most games won Spain. Spain that has not lost a game since 2006. FIFA ranked #1 Spain. That Spain.

And the USMNT did it. Thanks to great defense (I have such love for Jay DeMerit now - who knew?) and two goals from Jozy Altidore and Clint Dempsey.

I am happy. I haven't stopped smiling. It's nice to support a team that wins. I'm getting a little superstitous about Sunday's final against either Brazil or South Africa.

I have nothing to add. My love for Clint Dempsey runs wild. I can't explain it. I have loved him since the 2006 World Cup. I tried to see him play with the Revs twice and he was suspended for both matches. That made me sad.

But here's old school Clint Dempsey. It's ridiculous. And I love it.

Ritual

2009-06-23T15:37:00.005-04:00

Like clockwork, I started my Todd Snider summertime obsession. Every year about this time, I start to think about sitting on wraparound porches, sipping sweet tea and listening exclusively to Todd Snider. He comforts me. Especially when I'm stressed.

And lately, work has been crazy. Home has been crazy. And my mind is just out of control. So to calm myself, I pop in Todd Snider and smile. His drawl causes a grin. His lyrics make me laugh. And he's kinda fun. He just seems like someone that would be fun to hang out with and spend time. He's just a great storyteller.

Anywhere... here is a song from Todd Snider's album. It's a great story. I've been listening to it on repeat here at work as I sip on some sweet tea and look out my window at a currently not raining sky.

Soccer rant for early June

2009-06-10T22:49:00.002-04:00

I had hoped that at some point I would post fairly regularly about soccer. But, that has not happened. There are a lot of reasons why that has not happened.

First, I am a Napoli fan. And they have sucked this year. And by year, I mean 2009. They were amazing in the first half of the season - the part that was in 2008. But in 2009 - they have been not so hot. If they had not been such a strong team early on, they'd be fighting to remain in Serie A. One coach was fired and now they have Donadoni. I like Donadoni. Many don't. Many were angered by what he did to the National Team during the Euro. And while I agree that he really didn't seem to put together the best team, I wonder how much of that was him or how much was him bowing to pressure as to what players to bring forward. I think he has the talent to bring together a young time and think creatively. Of course, he's dealing with the big name talent wanting to leave. I am of the "let him go" mentality. The team signed the fabulously talented Fabio Quagliarella. He's home grown talent and could do well in Lavezzi's spot. But that's next year. This past half season was hard to watch. It was hard to muster excitement for a team that could not manage to win. (Except for when they beat first place Inter Milan.)

Secondly, soccer is sacred to me. I'm afraid that if I write about my fandom, it loses a bit of it's luster. But, I also talk about it obsessively, so it's hard to balance that line.

Thirdly, I was thinking it was not a big summer soccer year. And then I remembered the Confederations Cup. Plus there's some nifty World Cup qualifiers coming up around the bend.

And Fourthly, I never really know what to write about when it comes to soccer. Or calcio. Or football. I mean, do I focus on silly things like horrible kits. Or do what the ladies at http://www.kickette.com/ do so well. Or do I pretend to know what the hell I'm talking about when discussing the play.

I think I'll tackle all of these things. Watching soccer is sacred. How I watch soccer is sacred. I don't like being distracted when I'm watching a match I care about. I don't like being around people who don't understand the sport when I'm watching any match.

I've written about the wonder of community during a soccer match. I've written about my distress at seeing my favorite team flounder this past year. I've written about how pretty a game it is to watch. For, um, many reasons.

The FIFA Confederations Cup starts soon. And that makes me happy. It makes me very happy to be able to watch international soccer again. I look forward to watching Italy play the United States in a few days. However, I'm worried as well.

I'll root for the US to do well. It's what I do. I may have been brought up on Italian soccer but the US is still where I live. And I would like them to do well. Except. Well...

Okay, so I've watched the last two US World Cup qualifiers. And it was not a pretty affair. Far from it in fact. It pissed me off. They won the second match thanks to a BEAUTIFUL goal by the equally beautiful Carlos Bocanegra. (Incidentally, this goal led to me recieving a text from a friend proclaiming "I want Boca's baby." And my reply which was "You'll have to fight me for him.") But the team lacked something.

And this is where I find myself quoting Alexi Lalas (God help me...) - they didn't have heart. They did not seem to care that much. Not the whole team. I mean, Ricardo Clarke was incredible. And I do have to give it up for Conor Casey aka the battering ram. But I'm really just proclaiming my love of a guy one of the commentators referred to as a battering ram. Nothing more there.

But, the big names. The ones that US Soccer has been talking about for years. They didn't have heart consistently. And that's a problem. To win anything in life you have to want it. And they did not. Or at least that's what it looked like to me. Even though they won on Saturday, I'm still worried that after almost EIGHT years no one knows what to do with Landon Donovan. He's clearly gifted. And when he cares, his play is incredible. But then there are those moments where he just sort of phones it in.

You don't phone it in on the pitch.

And I get angry.

But that anger is part of what makes me love this sport so much. Being so passionately angry about how badly my team may be messing it up is what makes me love this sport so much.

Unsettling

2009-06-08T10:50:00.002-04:00

I woke up this morning early. I had a doctor appointment about 45 minutes away from my house at 7:30. I noticed that my computer was on so I decided to shut it down and as I went to do so, I noticed a new email. It was from a cousin in Italy. Someone I have never met. Someone I did not actually know existed until a few months ago.

Attached to the email was a picture of her and my mom and a third person. My mom is probably 16 or so in the picture. She's gorgeous. Her smile radiates out of her. I saw the picture and smiled. Said "Hi Mamma!"

I had to shut down and leave the house. The picture left my thoughts for a while as I drove to Storrs. Met with a new doctor and discussed why I was still having "tummy issues." It's been ten months since I was diagnosed with celiac and I thought I'd feel better now. But, I'm not consistently feeling great. One suggestion to emerge is giving up coffee. And while I hate that idea, I realize it's probably worthwhile to attempt. I notice how I feel when I drink coffee on occassion. It doesn't sit well. I decided to give it the old college try and give it up. Maybe just giving my system a rest from certain irritants will make a difference. It's logical. It makes sense. So goodbye to coffee. For a little while at least.

When I made it into work and booted up my computer, I remembered the email. I clicked on the picture again and smiled. But am so unsettled. I don't know who this woman staring at me is. I want to know who she is. I want to know this version of my mother. I got robbed of that experience and I'll never get over that.

I think it might be time to call my uncle. Or send a card. Or hand over an olive branch. I think I'm ready to start thinking about it. I just don't know if I'm ready to go to that place yet. Or how to even get to that place.

But as I figure it out, I'll just look at my pictures and smile. I miss that smile. We saw it so rarely in her last few years. It's nice to see it here.

day away

2009-06-05T00:13:00.003-04:00

DSCN0901, originally uploaded by laliaberry.

I went away on Saturday and spent the day in New York. I enjoy spending the day but am fairly certain I could never tolerate living there. But honestly, I am not so sure.

I'm currently debating buying a house. I'm not sure where or what sort of place I want. I think I'd prefer a house, but maybe not. I like the idea of owning a house, but at the same time, I am not always the most handy.

As for where, I think I'd like to be somewhere sparsely populated however ... I think I'd like a small city or a larger town. I like the idea of being able to walk to things. I want to live in a place where I can walk somewhere for a carton of milk or a cup of coffee.

But right now, I'm just searching. Thinking.

As for other stuff in life, I love The Tonight Show with Conan O'Brien. It makes me so ridiculously happy. I love that Conan is back. I remember when I first watched the Late Show. I taped it on my vcr. You remember those, right. Video Cassette Recorders. Remember, you had to program the times. I always liked to add 5 or ten minutes to start and ending times just in case.

But I taped it that night because I had been hearing about this new show with this guy who was taking over for David Letterman. I did not know much about Letterman - all I really knew was his penchant for double breasted suits, because my brother was a big fan of Letterman and the double breasted jacket.

But I was in high school. When I came home, I popped in the video. It was a well loved video cassette and was not the best quality, but Radiohead was the musical guest. That day or the next day, I went out to buy Pablo Honey because I was so impressed by that band.

I remember walking away from that first taste of Conan with a curiosity and interest that never went away. It was like when I first watched an episode of The State. You do remember The State, don't you?

As life went on, I would watch Conan sporadically. I did not care much about the guests. I loved the bits. I loved Conan and Andy. And Max Weinberg. I remember falling asleep to Conan during college nights in my dorm room.

I was always amused. I would laugh out loud. When Conan would come up in conversation with people, I passed judgment if they were not a fan. I did. I try to not hold it against. But in my mind there's two kinds of people - those who love Conan and those who "don't get him." He's funny. You just have to get it.

And if you are not sure if he's funny - watch and decide.

Diet Coke in grass by Anna

2009-05-27T22:33:00.002-04:00

Diet Coke in grass by Anna, originally uploaded by laliaberry.

This is one of the first pictures with my new shiny and expensive and beautiful and wonderful camera. Love it.

However I didn't take it. Anna did. My niece. She decided to take a fancy picture of the diet coke bottle laying in the grass. Because it would be funny. Oh children...

Knowledge

2009-05-27T22:10:00.003-04:00

It's been brought to my attention that I tend to hyper obsess over things and crave perfection. Or can overwhelm myself with things that are not really that important. Or get overly angry about things that aren't really a big deal.

It's a problem. I know that. And I'm beginning to work on it in very little ways.

For example, a memorial mass is being said for my mother this coming Sunday. I told my brothers about it last week. Old me would remind them again this week. But I decided not to. I told them once. It's on them to write it in a calendar and remember. It's on my dad to remind them again. But I don't have to stay on them. They're big boys.

That may not be a big deal, but it is actually huge for me. I can't constantly be worrying about making sure everyone does what they are supposed to do. Because, well, I don't have that kind of time or energy or desire anymore. And so begin the baby steps. So much of my life has been spent taking care of people that it's time I focused on me. This is what I keep reading. Or hearing. Or being told. Or lectured. Or yelled at about.

You know people, they care so much.

But, that's my knowledge for this week. Also part of my knowledge for this week - I need to fucking write more. I swear rarely in this blog. But it's called for in this instance. And I'm going to start by committing to regular writing dates for this slarfing blog. You hear that people? Er.. Person? All one of you that read this. I'm going to write here regularly!

And together with that knowledge of my need to write more is my need to play with my camera more often. I bought a new one. An expensive one. It's my new baby. And I finally bought it when I realized that I waste tooooo much time worrying about money. Yes, money is important. But so is making myself happy by buying the camera I was too "practical" to buy last year. So, my dear Canon Rebe xsi -I love you. I really really do. This is what love is all about. Isn't it?

procrastination

2009-05-19T20:52:00.009-04:00

I sat down tonight to do some writing. Evie (the name of my forever plaguing novel) needs to be edited. She's done now. And just needs massive editing. But somehow instead of working on that, I'm here. Intent to post pictures of my new room. I have not yet come up with a name for this room. It's my little cave. A girl cave if you will. It's where all my time will essentially be spent.

There is work to be done yet. I have not yet put anything up on the walls and am still missing one beloved orange chair and still need to figure out how to work the cubes as coffee table. But, I like the space. I like certain aspects of the space.

This is the basic room from the doorway.

I have prints for all the bare wall present. They just need to be framed and put up. Decorating walls is one place where my few obsessive compulsive decorating tendencies come to light. The frames have to match. I don't care what the little frames look like. In fact, I like variety and eclecticism there. But on the wall they have to match in tone. Not the exact same frame, but color and style must be similar. If not, things just look crazy and out of control.

This is the other side of the room.

I hate that desk. I really do. I loathe it. I have a lot of desk issues lately (see twitter conversations about the work desk). But I am over this desk. I bought it about seven years ago when I was still in law school and had a very different computer. And it was in a very different location. But, now, I don't have a desktop tower anymore. I don't need the hutch. I don't have any need or desire for that desk. But until I am struck by the perfect desk, I will not buy one. I need to love that desk that replaces this one. It needs to be the desk I will have for years and until that desk is located, I will put up with this one.

This is one particular decorative feature I've impressed myself with.

The hooks were left there by my dad. He used to sleep in this room and put the hooks up for his clothes. I did not want to deal with taking them down and potentially not being able to appropriately smooth the wall down in that one spot and having the paint look different. And I have a lot of pictures of my nieces and nephew that are fun and goofy that I like to rotate. Note the awesome orange ribbon.

Other places I want orange to feature, the file cabinet. In the first picture you'll note that the file cabinet is serving as a make shift tv stand. It's not ideal and was not the plan, but since this doubles as my office in addition to my living space, I needed the cabinet and it fit no where else. I have a few ideas for the cabinet - wallpaper, fabric, decoupage. I'm thinking fabric now, mainly because it's easy and quick and could look instantly neat.

Other things I'm digging in the room - the tiara in the spider plant for whimsy and fun, the prominently feature book "How SASSSY Changed My Life," the successful hiding away of the wee, my mom's red cane displayed in a corner, near my guitar.

The room is coming along. I'm hoping it will look less "first apartment" and more like my hideaway when I'm done.

Sometimes it's just supposed to be that way...

2009-05-12T20:16:00.004-04:00

Every once in a while it seems like I am on exactly the right track in life. (More often than not it feels like I've totally swerved off track and am about to hit a huge tree, but I digress...)

This has been one of those weeks so far. It's only Tuesday so there is still a long way to go, but it's been a good start. I actually started the day yesterday with complete anger and grrrness. The day was awful. It was just horrible. My office was hosting a town hall wide breakfast. It was a nice event - but completely stressful to plan. Stressful because of the staff and just the timing and the fact that I felt crappy and well, it was Monday and I didn't want to be at work. Then there were meetings I did not want to go. And just never felt like I got anything done.

At some point though, I decided to change my outlook. I began thinking about "things I like." Such as dandelion chains. And showtunes. And my favorite books. Movies. Sunny days. Good coffee.

It sort of worked. And I spent the evening at a seminar learning about what is required to open a solo practice. I have no decisions made. I don't know what I'm doing. But, it was a good thing for me to learn about. And while there I ran into an old advisor of mine who is in sort of the same place. And it amazes me how many people are in this place.

Today had grr potential. But it never happened. I kept myself fairly positive. A lot of different things went wrong, but I opted not to stress. I also found out that I was selected to work on a committee in the state bar association. I need to decide this week and I want to do it. I think. It's hard for me to commit to this. At one level I want to because I am supposed to want to be good at my job and at some point I should advance. Shouldn't I? My ambivalence has less to do with the work than with the commitment to being a lawyer. I need to commit to being a lawyer, but I don't want to. Wasn't I supposed to be living this wonderfully creative life? Shouldn't my life has some meaning? Isn't there more to my life than being a lawyer? And why is it all so exclusive? And why does it stress me out to refer to myself as one? And why did it really weird me out when another attorney said "we speak the same language?"

These are all questions I need to figure out answers to. At some point. And I guess I'm getting there. I've been reading a lot of books on living a creative life outside the daily grind. I figure at some point I'll have it all figured out. It will just take me a while.

And then there was the best random happenstance of my week. I was in Target picking up a prescription to deal with my allergies. I decided to walk out a different way thinking I would look at the cameras. As I did that, I ran into my parents' oldest friends. I had not seen them in a while. I think since my mom's funeral. But, it was good to see them. It felt soooo nice to talk to them. And if I had just walked outside after picking up my prescriptions and not thought about the camera - I wouldn't have run into them. And I feel much better for having run into them.

Sometimes it pays to just take a different way out. Sometimes it worth taking on a role you are not entirely comfortable with just to see what it gets you.

laughter for dreary wednesday

2009-05-06T10:14:00.002-04:00

This was on over a week ago. And I'm still giggling. I love How I Met Your Mother. I also really loved this week's episode - especially the bit about the charts. But this opening scene last week about the three day rule. Priceless.

Confessions of a soccer fan

2009-05-03T17:33:00.008-04:00

I had my first exposure to the Women's Professional Soccer League last night. WPS started just this year and if I know anything at all about women's soccer it's because my friend Jacqueline has done a good job in her teaching. I am pre-disposed to like the sport. I love soccer. I love watching it. It's the only sport I've ever actively followed. I can't play to save my life. But randomly kicking a ball around or taking shots on goal - that's always a good time. And I could watch soccer games all day if I had to.

I don't know when it started. It may have even begun as an attempt to bond with my dad. And it's worked for the most part. My dad and I have some of our most animated and engaged conversations over a cup of coffee and the soccer standings on Sunday mornings. I sometimes joke that it's the only time we don't argue. Except for those times we disagree. Like when I insist on my undying affection for certain teams.

If my love of soccer began as a father-daughter bonding exercise it persisted because it has a left a huge mark. Maybe it's the heritage. I was brought up in a pretty traditional Italian American family. It's what we do. I remember the 1986 World Cup final held in Mexico. There was some party at my house ... maybe my brother's high school graduation party. But the part that sticks in my mind was the little green black and white tv was carried outside plugged into the outlet outside so all the men could watch the game. I don't remember much else (I was only 9 at the time) but I remember that TV being carried out there. If my memory isn't messing with me, it was carried to a location underneath the gooseberry tree. Would this have happened for a baseball game? No. Football? Hell no. (We'll ignore the fact that the Superbowl is in the winter..)

Another memory involves my parents and I being at a family picnic at High Meadows. They rent out the camp to family and corporate gatherings. I can't remember if this was a family gathering or a corporate one. I do remember lots of family being there (which really means nothing since most of my extended family works/worked at Wiremold.) It was 1994. The World Cup was held in the United States and the final was between Italy and Brazil. Someone arranged a television to be set up in the pavilion and a group of us gathered to watch the match. It was a nail biter. It came down to penalty kicks and Italy ultimately lost. It was awful. And in that moment I became a die hard non-Brazil fan. I decided that I could never ever support Brazil and would never be a fan of their soccer team. Bebeto and Romario were not names I cared to discuss. I remember sitting there in my bathing suit, face paint from earlier in the day screaming at the television when Roberto Baggio and his golden foot missed that last penalty kick. To make matters worse we shared that viewing experience with a large group of Brazilians. It was awful. And solidified my undying love for the sport. There was a bond that day that just made it one of the more memorable experiences in my life. I was only 16, but I remember that day clearly.

And the list continues. The sport has been such a part of my life for so long I can't imagine not being a soccer fan.

There are a lot of other reasons for this girl to be a soccer fan. The game is exciting. Yes, a 0-0 match can be one of the most thrilling things to watch. The fans are fantastic. There are a drums. And, well the athletes are extremely fit. And by fit, I mean ocassionally super hot.

or

or

I purposely did not post shirtless pictures. Because well, that's not the point. But the hotness coupled with the fitness makes it all highly entertaining for me. Especially when you throw in the hope that they'll exchange shirts at the end of a match.

Add in the fun had in watching a game in a group environment. This could be a bar. Or at a camp pavilion. Or in someone's backyard. Or at the actual match. There's something about soccer fans that I haven't been able to find anywhere else. It's fun. The atmosphere is what makes it worthwhile. Even the obnoxious fans are fun. I remember watching Portugal v. England in the 2006 World Cup in a local Irish Pub. I was one of the few rooting for Portugal and I was asked to go sit in the corner with the "other" Portugal fan. Rude? No. Hilarious? Hell yes.

But the fans and the environment bring me to why I started writing this post. Last night at the Breakers v. Sol match in the WPS, the environment was just what I love. Even at a women's soccer game, there were drummers, fans in face paint, flags, and awesome yelling. There was a huge contingent of Brazilian soccer fans rooting for Marta. As one of the young fans next to me proclaimed to her brother "Marta is like probably the greatest soccer player, like, ever." And I loved watching the young fans. I don't know if my young sports career would have been different with more visible women female athletes, but seeing these little girls so excited to see their heroes play was worth the price of admission. The 90+ minutes of great soccer was just an added bonus. And it was great soccer. I might even say it was better than any MLS match I'd been to. Is that a knock on MLS? No. I think it's just that the closest MLS team for me is the New England Revolution. And they play in Foxboro. And it's just too big to feel the sort of community I felt last night. The vastness of Gillette Stadium makes it hard to really become part of the experience.

I hope this league sticks around. For the great image these women provide for little girls. For the great community professional soccer teams can provide. And selfishly, because the Boston Breakers are a much more accessible soccer team for me to go see. I wouldn't be opposed to making a trip there more often. For $15, why not? Plus they have sangria.

motivation

2009-05-03T11:05:00.006-04:00

If you find my writing motivation - let me know. It's been hiding out lately. My latest theory is that it has taken off and is touring the universe with a towel and traveling companion named Trillian.

On the other side of that proverbial coin, I find myself unusually productive in household endeavors. There's something about spring that makes me want to clean and re-do everything. This year I had a bit of a bump in that. My dad wanted a new room and I needed to re-organize the house.

The big stuff is all done. I have the furniture moved. The books re-located (ALL OF THEM). And for the most part everything is liveable.

There are things I need to address. Such as making the office/den/me space look like me. I need to decorate. Which I enjoy and hate at the same time. How you decorate says so much about you. Just as what you wear on a particular day indicates your mood. What do I do on the blank canvass of my walls? I'm not crazy about the color, but did not have the time nor desire to go through painting or picking a color at this moment. So, how do I cover the color up?

The big stuff I was motivated to do. This part - the decorating. The making it look pretty - not so much. My decorating motivation has joined my writing motivation and hopefully when they return, they will have great stories to tell and design inspiration to share.

I need to take my motivation as it comes. I am clearing out the closets in the empty rooms. I am turning one of the empty rooms into a guest room. A place people can visit and sleep while visiting that is welcoming, fun and adorable. There's a kid theme - because right now most of my guests are 12 and under (my nieces and nephew) with an appreciation for polka dots, Harry Potter, and elephants. The other one I want to be a crafty fun room that can double as a spare bedroom when the need arises. I'd like to set up my sewing machine, store all my yarn and fabric, knitting and sewing books and be functional.

The plans I have. Now I just need to put it all into action.

Of course, I am today exhausted. And I want to just spend the day sitting on my couch and reading a book.

But I will make myself do one productive thing before that luxuriousness.

Sooo exhausted....

2009-04-23T10:34:00.005-04:00

When I was diagnosed with celiac disease, I had all these hopes with the diagnosis.

There was this answer to all of the strange health issues I seem to have. The fact that I felt old all the time. Or that I could not ever get over being exhausted. Or the fact that I space out quite easily. Things that should not otherwise be happening to a normal and healthy 30 (now 31) year old. I was downright hopeful. It would be hard, sure, but it was an answer.

But I'm feeling like crap. All the damn time. And it's beginning to make me angry. I mean, wasn't giving up gluten supposed to make me not feel gross? Why hasn't my neverending joint pain gone away? Why am I still not feeling all that great?

After talking about this the other day, a very kind friend tried to give me an easy out saying that I have had a crappy time the past few months and it's probably just wearing on me. But that doesn't feel right. Maybe it's just allergies. Maybe I am just nursing my grief and depression in a very physical form. Maybe I will "snap out of it" when that magical year comes to an end. But why does it feel an awful lot like it felt before I was diagnosed with celiac disease?

When I was told celiac, I was relieved. In my life, medical problems didn't have "easy" answers. And celiac had such a simple answer. It would be hard to live gluten free, but it also had a solution. I want a new solution. I'm taking suggestions. Anything really? I know that the smart thing to do is to go see someone and try to figure it out. But, I also feel a little bit crazy. Like I'm just whining about general things. Nothing really specific.

Anyway, I just had another piece of an awesome gluten free lasagna my dad made last week. I was going to make it, but he was bored. It was pretty darn tasty. And would have been tastier had I actually heated it up properly.

and so it is

2009-04-20T12:28:00.002-04:00

I'm in a tizzy. I get easily frustrated and feel the need for massive change to happen somewhere in my life.

As is often the case in these moments, I chopped off my hair. I'm a good five to six inches lighter and love it. It still has the feel of longer hair, but none of the annoying and irksome weight.

But that was last week. What can I change this week?

I'm trying to convince myself that I am a morning person and I am hoping to get up everyday at 6:15 to go for a run (or walk, depnding). I'm even hoping to gradually work in the occassional writing session. That is one change.

I need to re-arrange all the furniture in my house this weekend. My dad has changed his mind about his sleeping arrangements and I've figured out how to make it all happen. So that's this weekend's change. I'll be sleeping in a new bedroom.

There are a couple other areas I need to work on changing. Such as work. And my outlook.

I've been really negative lately. I'm hoping the morning routine might help there. I'm hoping that by starting off positive, I can carry that threw my day. I really want to run again. There's something so satisfying about your feet pounding on pavement to work out aggression and all those otehr emotions. And the physical benefits are awesome as well.

That's kind of where I am right now. I'm not loving where I'm at. But it's not the worst place.

Fortunately there's chocolate to make it all just a little bit better.

The only way to end a crappy day ...

2009-04-09T22:41:00.003-04:00

No not a nice long run. Or a bottle of wine. Or a nice comforting bath. Or a favorite meal.

But by going to see To Kill A Mockingbird and running into Team Paul.

First things first - today sucked. I had my annual gyn appointment. I am not a good patient. I get nervous easily. And tense up. These are things that do not make a gyn appointment go smoothly. So it was horrible. I will spare the details But I hated it. And it sort of soured the day.

Secondly, work is in a weird phase. It's something I don't really want to get into too much here because I can't. But I'm starting to worry about the future. My future. Which is making me do A LOT of thinking. About my future. About what I'm doing. About what I want to do. About why it is I am doing what I am doing. And that's not fun.

Thirdly, To Kill A Mockingbird was awesome. Matthew Modine was incredible as Atticus and I remembered how much I absolutely loved that book as a kid and as a teen. I read it every few years. I'd love to say that because of that book I became a lawyer. It's not. But it did inspire me to work on my own writing as a kid. And I was obsessed with Jem and Scout. I thought Jem was a super awesome big brother. And my guitar is named Scout.

And Lastly, sitting two rows down and about three seats to the left was Team Paul and his partner. I spent the show hiding my face behind my program. Jess was completely entertained. But, I was terrified of what I might say or do. In my chick flick version of life I would run into him or spill a drink on myself or spill a drink on him or hit on his partner or say something really embarrassing out loud. In real life, I waited until after the show and walked out to the aisle and smiled. Said hello. Met his partner. Introduced Jess. And walked out. Oh and also in real life he is behind me in the parking garage where Jess and I laughed out loud about the coincidence of meeting into him there. And I jumped up and down about something.

Yeah. Somehow despite the mortification this was the best way to end this horrible day.

i am awesome at the texting

2009-04-07T23:28:00.007-04:00

I have been horrible at keeping this site updated. I had all these lofty ambitions when I transitioned to this site - but clearly they have not been fulfilled.

In my defense, I was insane at work. To the point where I would come home and just collapse on my couch to allow my brain time to melt. Then my home was invaded. And then I went away. And then I came back and my home was still invaded. And now I'm just tired and trying to smartly combat a sinus infection by not staying up too late. Clearly that is not working since it's 11:30 and I'm writing this here blog.

But I felt the need to explain my absence. To all of you. The one or two readers of this journal.

Highlights of my recent life include being part of a successful conversational exchange with Team Paul and realizing that I text way too much. I foolishly did not sign up for unlimited texting back when I got my iPhone. It was only five dollars more, but I resisted. And I paid for it. A lot. So now I have unlimited text messaging. And well, the minute details of my life will continue to be communicated via text. Examples of my texting prowess:

From last Weds night (watching US v. Trinidad and Tobago)
JP: Jozy is starting!!!!!!!
me: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
JP: Boca hot.
me: On my way home to ogle my future bf.
JP: My man back in goal
me: mmmmmm
me: So you know I won't be able to watch Lost tonight?
JP: Oh no :(
me: Yep. How soon is it up online?
me: Clint cut his hair.
JP. After west coast airing at least. I don't know if it waits for Alaska and Aawaii.
JP: I texted that update to you last week about clint :)
me: My niece says Tim Howard is very angry. Pretty Boca. Maybe I'll watch before going to bed.
me: Can we key Alexi's car?
JP: I'll see what we can do
me: Awesome. Boca hot!
JP: That US soccer commercial is catchy. Tell ur niece that Timmy is the hotness.
me: She says he's an angry dude.
JP: Sometimes angry dudes are hot. We should be us soccer groupies.
me: Ok.
JP: I just somehow switched to fsc which had North Korea-South Korea opening the second half. blew. my. mind.
me: Boca...
me: Explain to me my infatuation with Dempsey.
JP: the rap song.
me: Don't tread on me. Also for a moment I had Donovan awe.
JP: Landy is a good passer.
me: he needs to not be used as a striker.
JP: Right. his cross to Jozy was great. Problem is outside of Jozy no good strikers. Ching not good. I think Landy is in mid tonight.
me: They really want Ching to be the heir to McBride. But he's not there. Where's Adu?
JP: not sure.
me: Curious
JP: Looooooooove Jozy.
me: Yes. I hope he moves to a good team where he can get regular playing time. This is a good Lando game.
JP: I'd like to go to a World Cup qualifier.
me: It's a fun time.
me: Dempsey is not having a good game.
JP: JP Dellacamera's fav line is "Running like the game just started." It's one of my top quotes on Facebook he used so much during women's World Cup.
me: Torres is tiny!
JP: Donovan! Jozy!
me: Bradley!!!!!!!!!!
JP: Not sure he was onside :) but Bradley! Voldemort must be so proud.
me: Shhhhh. I'm also a big Sasha fan.
JP: I don't know who Sasha is....
me: He came on for Clint. Boca... Why are they not trading shirts????
JP: They are being cruel.

From Sunday Morning (while watching Tomb Raider)
me: In case I don't say it enough Daniel Craig=hot
Jess: Good to know. Hows the movie?
me: Meh.
Jess: That was my fear and thus why it remains low on my list.
me: I need to go to the mall at some point. But instead I've been untangling yarn.
Jess: Well, the yarn won't untangle itself.

From Monday morning (while working mind you)
me: Door is shut. I'm in a windowless box.
Jess: But sometimes that is necessary. Just don't light a candle.
me: No candles anywhere.
Jess: I feel like there should be a Rent reference here somewhere.
me: I know the feeling. Would you please NOT light my candle?
Jess: That was my last match??
me: What you do to my candle?
Jess: Thank God for the moon.
me: I think Spike Lee's filming down the street.
Jess: Cold hands.
me: Wanna dance
Jess: With me??
me: No with my father.
Jess: I'm Roger.
me: They call me mimi.
Jess: And then she steals the stash from his pocket.
me: And scene!

Why I ever thought I wouldn't need unlimited texting is beyond me?

Traveling!!!

2009-03-26T16:55:00.001-04:00

Travelling makes me happy. Even if it's only a long weekend in a new city.

Old words

2009-03-10T08:52:00.009-04:00

This is something I wrote a while back. About a week before my mom died, in fact. I always toyed with putting it out somewhere. I never knew where or why, but I think it's a good fit here. It is in fact, all about the crazy random happenstances that roll around in my brain. Which, honestly sometimes scare the crap out of me. But more than the crazy randomness of my thinking, it's also frighteningly accurate to how I feel right now. My brain is still rolling around with a lot of these thoughts. I could update it now, but I don't want to distort the words. This was my life then. My life now might follow in a couple days.

But this goes back to early October 2008. I had just fallen deeper for Team Paul. I had begun the obsession with gluten free baking. And I was beginning to become frighteningly aware of how crazy my thought processes could be. A friend read this back then and called it somewhat prophetic. I don't like such words. I don't know if I quite believe in the idea of "prophetic." It's too mystical for me. I think it's predictable. I also sort of think that when I write without paying attention to form or matter, I tend to write pretty damn good. It's when I overthink the words that I kill it. And no one wants to read dead words. (Um, pun is totally intended.)

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I hugged my childhood crush this week. We even shared a quick kiss. It happened at his father’s wake. And it was probably inappropriate to get a thrill over this at that time, but I did.

I’ve had a crush on Anthony since I was ten. Or since I was old enough to realize what crushes were. He never really saw me as more than just that lil’ girl across the street that obnoxiously jumped in the pile of leaves he just spent all morning raking. I’m assuming that of course. I never actually asked him what he thought of me as a ten year old.

He is the same as my brothers. I am sure I was nothing more than an annoying little sister like person to him. He too has a story about being my babysitter once. I remember looking for pictures of Anthony in my brother’s high school yearbook and not my brother. I was sad when he moved away for college. I was jealous that he married.

I had my first real conversation with him on August 23, 1992. Earlier that Sunday morning, my mother had collapsed while making coffee and was rushed to the hospital. I had been driven home from the hospital and Anthony was in his drive way. He walked over to ask me what happened.

I remember, even then, being amazed at how calm I was. I didn’t giggle. I didn’t find myself twirling my hair. I didn’t step from foot to foot. And I definitely did not stammer. I clearly told him my mother was in a coma and no one knew what was wrong. He said, “Wow.” I remember writing about that day in my diary that night and that I included that conversation. It marked in many ways a loss of innocence and a loss of childhood. Carrying on an adult conversation with an adult male that I had a crush on was a big moment for my fourteen year old brain. But this is just my overly analytical brain overly thinking getting carried away looking back at the one moment in my life.

This week, standing in that funeral home saying goodbye to his father I thought about my past feelings. The feelings stayed in the fore of my thoughts as I approached the family line and offered my condolences. As I stood across from Anthony, we hugged. The hug lingered a bit. But maybe that was all in my head.

My father frustratingly moved away from the line much too quick and called me over to introduce me to an old friend. Anthony said goodbye. And I walked away upset at not sharing a longer conversation with this man who grew more attractive every year and looked amazing in a suit. But, again, not an appropriate place or time for these thoughts. Especially as his wife and child came to stand by him.

I sat in my chair on the other side of the room pondering my life. This entire week had been a fascinating study in how my brain functions. I’d spent the week ogling the new boss of my boss. And by ogling, I mean, complete and utter adoration of the man as a public speaker that I could not stop referring to as my candidate for hope and change.

If you can’t control thinking about that childhood crush at inappropriate times, you can’t really control developing a crush on a super suave political operative that happens to fall on the other side of the political spectrum? After hearing him speak a week ago, I have wanted to make up Team Paul t-shirts and wear one proudly. I told my boss I was ready to quit my job as an attorney and be his personal assistant. I would be sure to get his coffee order correct.

And now when I have to talk to him, I get a case of the giggles. Or the stammering. Or the hair twirling. Or the complete incoherence. I become my ten year old self talking to Anthony across the street.

I snap out of this strange circle of thought when my dad begins telling our other neighbor about his bypass. I correct him. Angioplasty. Not a bypass.

It’s almost as if he’d rather it be the more serious condition. He gets glory in talking about it. When I diminish it and say it was nothing more than an angioplasty, his face falls. I’m not quite sure what that is about. It’s almost like he wants it to be a bigger deal. It’s not like an angioplasty is not a big deal. But, bypass sounds way more important and impressive to him. Or he just can’t remember the word “angioplasty.” Whichever it is, I feel the need to correct him because I don’t want our neighbors reporting to other neighbors that my dad had a quadruple bypass and is in dire straits and might die tomorrow. When, in reality, he had an angioplasty with a stent put in to address an artery that was 90% blocked. He was in the hospital for 30 hours. And four of those were spent waiting for the nurse to complete the discharge papers.

Serious? Yes. Grave? No. But maybe grave isn’t the word to use while at a funeral.

I get choked up at funerals. It happens. I know why. I can pin point the exact reasons why I start fighting the urge to shed tears and fall apart even when I barely know the guy. The psycho analysis for this is not that difficult. The thought in my head is always “we’re next.” But I really shouldn’t dwell on that. So I won’t. But I do take notes. To prepare. Like the music. I wonder what music funeral homes allow you to pick from. Could I get some Dean Martin playing for my mom? I think on Six Feet Under the Fishers let you play whatever music you wanted. But Peter Krause would also greet me at the door.

It’s all too much sometimes. My dad wanting a bigger injury. My mom being sick all the time. Me crushing on a gay Republican who is indirectly my boss and I accidentally called a girl that one time. It’s a lot, you know. And I’m amazed my brain doesn’t explode. But we are a resilient species. Truly. It’s amazing. We’re designed to withstand so much – both physically and internally.

My dad tapped me on the shoulder and I remembered I was still at Luigi’s wake. He motions to leave and my thoughts close down temporarily as I begin my goodbyes. I play with my cellphone as I walk to my car as I chauffer this week while my dad recovers from his non-bypass procedure.

I’m sure the bizarre train of thoughts that has marked this week of emotional ups and downs and possibly hormonal rages will spark back up later this night. Perhaps I’ll plan my future as a gluten free baker extraordinaire. Perhaps Team Paul can help that dream happen. Maybe I just need to get him some of my gluten free chocolate chip hazelnut cookies. Maybe I need to focus on my rock star dreams and work on that strumming pattern I stubbornly refused to practice in my lesson this week. I think Anthony played guitar once up on a time. Maybe Team Paul plays as well. Could you imagine?

Happy Daylight Savings

2009-03-08T10:34:00.005-04:00

I was a little stunned when I woke up this morning. I forgot it was Sunday and then I forgot it was Daylight Savings. When I realized what it was, I got really excited. I had to buy a new alarm clock a few years ago and it automatically updates for Daylight Savings. And that's awesome in my opinion. And yes, it takes very little to impress me at times.

Not impressive of late, is Napoli. The soccer team. Not the city. I have no opinion on the city in fact as I have yet to visit. It's on my list. My hope is to make it there next summer.

But back to the soccer team. S.S.C. Napoli. I have been a fan since I can remember. Sure, I've had mild flirtations with other teams. There were those days as a kid when I was obsessed with the Toto Schilacci era Juventus. And even a few years back I developed an obsession with Fiorentina and the beautiful Luca Toni. But Napoli has always been my team. Why? Well, my dad is and therefore I am.

I won't bore the few readers of this blog with the recent history of the team. But I will say that it appears Napoli has decided winning is not the thing to do in 2009. A team that was ranked a surprising 4th after the first half of the 2008/2009 season has not won a game in this new year. And the year, not that new anymore. They play well, sure. But, they're not winning. A game is on right now in the background. And it's a few minutes from the half and they are still tied. Ties are good. It's better than losing due to a last minute goal by the other team on a stupid mistake.

It angers me. Win a game! Just one. Because I'm convinced that's all you need. I really think that when you remember how wonderful it feels to win, you will be thrilled by the experience and do it more often. One game. It would make me so happy. And don't you want me to be happy? (I know guilt is a cheap tactic, but they're an Italian team. I was brought up to think guilt was the Italian way.)

Okay, that's out of my system.

I feel better.

As for other matters, I realize I am not as regular a writer as I once hoped I would be. I'm in what one could refer to as a "funk" lately. I feel the need to do something drastic in order to move myself out of it.

Drastic for me is probably not that drastic for others. But I've been thinking a lot about my hair. I sort of want to go to a hair salon and say - "Change it. Make it different. I want to be look different." I've been really happy with my long hair. But, I feel a need for a change in some aspect of my life. And hair is so easy. I'd like a more fit body, but that can't be accomplished over the course of one sunday afternoon. New hair can be. And then it grows back over the course of time and it's okay.

I woke up with that feeling today. It's ridiculous to say that one haircut can be responsible for the unfunking, but I think it can be a step. Or something. I don't know. I used to do this all the time. Wake up and decide it was time to chop my hair off. And do it. I've gotten less gutsy with my hair over time, but maybe it's just the simple step I need for right now.

I'm not overly concerned with the funk being anything major. I've decided I'm allowed to be in a funk for the next year. I'm entitled. But the funk is starting to interfere with work. I spent too many hours this week reading articles about Napoli's inability to win games this year, Will Chase's extensive theater career and blog posts about anything. None of those things have anything to do with work. And that's a problem. I have no problem with the occasional wasted day, but the frequency of them this week are a problem. I've just been tired and out of it and without any desire for anything.

And I think a simple hair cut may make me feel lighter and different. Add a new perspective to my day.

But for now I need to see what my boys can do in Naples.

one of those

2009-03-01T12:33:00.003-05:00

Last week was one of those weeks at work. Everything that could go wrong went wrong and everything that could be insane was insane.

Sadly, due to the confidential nature of many of the case facing us, I can't write in much detail. Even by coming up with clever nicknames like "confused daddy" or "the inept one" I still can't write much. I like my job and in this current climate, I sort of need it.

But, I can say that sometimes just when I think humanity is at it's lowest, I am amazed by a human's capacity to love unconditionally. Yes, that is unnecessarily obtuse. But after a week where I saw or read some of the worst in people. And questioned the decisions of people, it ended on possibly the happiest note possible.

A family completed the adoption process of four children. They are not Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. They did not adopt their children from exotic lands. This was a couple that was still putting their biological children through college.

This was a couple like my parents. Like most of my friend's parents. A family that realized they had more love to give. And could not say no to the adoption of all four children. The kids range in age from first graders to not yet pre-schoolers. The kids are beautiful and happy. Most importantly, these children are loved.

It's amazing to me that despite reading more and more about how horrible things are and the feeling that the world is slowly falling apart, this family opens up their heart and home. There's a lesson here. It doesn't matter how rough your life is. It doesn't matter how downright shitty it is - you can always do more to help others.

I spend my Wednesday nights tutoring adults with Greater Hartford Literacy Volunteers. And I bitch every Wednesday about how I don't want to go. I want to stay home and drink wine and prepare for Lost. I want to go out to dinner and talk about what might be happening on Lost that night. I want to go to a Lost party and watch Lost. (I have a wee obsession with the tv show.) (oh and last week's episode had a moment that made me think of Rent and that was a great collision of sorts.)

But I go. And it feels like I go out of an obligation. Yet, I love it. Even if we do no writing or reading and just spend our night talking about a news article discussing the first ever integrated prom at a Mississippi high school. It's a great hour and a half.

I guess what I'm trying to babble about here is the idea that we can always do more. And I know I can do more. I am not particularly good about going to Church, but one thing my very Catholic upbringing taught me is the idea that there is always someone else to help. The idea that there is always more I can do.

I feel more of a responsibility to live this out as I become an aunt to older children. I think it's important to set an example. When I talk to my now 12 year old niece about our responsibility to help people who need our help. When I try to persuade my 10 year old nephew that he should give away one of his most prized toys.

They are starting to get it. They are starting to become little conscientious people and it's fantastic.

When in doubt - procrastinate

2009-02-23T20:17:00.003-05:00

I have work to do. I brought home a file that I desperately need to organize before tomorrow's hearing. It's one of those files that turned into a mess. It's also one of those files that can force you to do a hell of a lot of thinking about whether or not you dropped the ball. Should I have caught what was happening before it became so wildly out of control? Should I have been more vigilant?

Probably. Maybe.

I mean I can only be vigilant over things that I can actually see. If papers are inaccurately completed before handed to me and they have been signed under penalty of false statement I should believe them.

But I'm an over thinker - so when this one blew up the way they occasionally do, I second guessed myself.

Tonight I am trying to organize everything. Put everything in order - sort of. And make sense of what is before us tomorrow. Which is really a simple question. But the people HATE each other. So that's always fun.

While I organize, I decided to eat a Hoodsie cup. I bought them last night because I knew my nieces and nephew were coming over with their parents for dinner. Hoodsie cups - remember them? These remind me of being a kid and eating them at school. On field trips. At birthday parties. I was never a huge ice cream fan. I liked it. I loved going out for it (mmmmm Friendly's). But, unless I was in an ice cream mood, I didn't love it. I was a carb kid. Give me chocolate chip cookies, muffins, cupcakes or fresh baked bread and I was happy. (Nice to know now that had I just been an ice cream kid I would probably have better gastrointestinal health. Damn gluten intolerance... Damn you celiac disease!)

Okay, enough procrastination. Off to organize...

Award show mania

2009-02-22T20:06:00.002-05:00

I have a special weakness for award shows. I love them. I love watching the dresses. I love seeing the awkward red carpet conversation. I love the speeches. I adore the big opening numbers. I love the awkward on stage pairings. Or the weird choice of presenters (Zac Efron? Robert Pattinson?)

Even though they are unbearably long and tedious and tiresome. I still have to watch the whole thing. Even though I am over tired this weekend from either a weird bug or the most unusual pms symptoms, I will watch the entire five million hour long Oscars. Even though this year I have only seen one of the Best Picture nominees, I don't care.

So, I am settling in for a long night. I have my blanket. My cell phone to randomly text my friends stupid things that happen. I have my laptop close by in case I have to look up what movie that guy was in. And I will enjoy every damn minute.

Teeth

2009-02-17T22:29:00.004-05:00

Things you don't want to start your day with:

A horribly sore throat
The inability to wake up
A call at 9:25 from your dentist wondering why you didn't show up for your appointment
Being shocked since you were so certain the appointment was at 9:30
And realizing it is at 9:20
Going in for your cavity filling and hearing the words "I'm not going numb you"
Finally arriving into work to a stack of questions and a sore mouth

I really just wanted to go home and curl up in bed watching Buffy reruns.

forget regret

2009-02-10T21:17:00.003-05:00

I'm a tad addicted to Rent. More than a tad. Way addicted. Anyone reading this blog probably knows that. (Hi Jess!) I first was drawn to it when I read La Boheme for the first time. I fell for the tragic love of Mimi and Rodolfo. It was perfect. I have never been a fan of the music in opera, but I love the stories. And when I first read La Boheme I was in my early 20s and the tragic love was just the kind of stuff I fell for.

When I realized Rent was a modernized take on La Boheme, I needed to see it. I loved the music. I loved the story. I would go in and out of obsessively listening to the soundtrack. And I finally saw it at the Nederlander last summer a few weeks before it closed. I was stuck sitting behind a man with the largest head ever. That wasn't fun. But, it was still awesome.

And since seeing it on that stage Rent has been on a constant rotation on my iPod. Lately, it's taken on a greater prominence for me. I couldn't quite grasp why until I sat and listened to the lyrics while at work today. And there's something about

forget regret or life is yours to miss

that strikes a chord right now. I spend a lot of my time dwelling on the whats and the whys of things that have happened. Wishing I had acted differently or done more or done less. And it takes up a lot of energy.

Since my mother passed away last October, a lot of emotions have bubbled up. Especially recently. These emotions run all over the place. I have spent a lot of time thinking about what I could have done differently. Said differently. If I could have done something more to prolong her life. And I have to keep telling myself there's no way to know these things. I just have to have faith that the right decisions were made and we all did the most we could for her. And when it was her time, she died with her dignity and surrounded by her family.

And when I say I have to remind myself of this. I mean that I have to actually say that out loud because the regrets and guilt and emotions are sometimes so loud in my head that I can't hear any other thoughts unless I shout them at myself.

Rent reminds me to stop dwelling on all the "coulda woulda shouldas."

I think that's why I love it so much. I'm clearly not all better. I have a lot of sadness to overcome. And I will. At least I know that at some point, my first emotion won't be sad. The idea that I need to just take each moment as it comes. Live in it and treasure it. Even if that moment is one that's sad, I need to acknowledge it and experience it. There's nothing worse than numbing those experiences. Or hiding from them.

Of course there are other reasons to love Rent. The music is pretty frakking awesome. It's great to sing along to in the car. I love Roger's pants. And Will Chase as Roger. "One Song Glory" is probably one of my favorite songs ever. Candles feature prominently. The set is fun to look at. You can "moo" while watching it. It makes reference to Cafe Bustelo. Maureen wears a vinyl catsuit. And it's all about an "honest living."

And I know all the words. And will sing along while watching it on dvd. And I am pretty sure that if I ever saw Will Chase in person I would be upset that he is not wearing plaid pants.

I am an idiot

2009-02-01T18:30:00.002-05:00

Last night I let my memory of delicious soup cloud my close inspection of ingredients. And have been wondering all day why my head started pounding out of no where and why my stomach has seen better days. (I'll spare you all graphic details.) But needless to say - the green chili and corn bisque at Au Bon Pain is not gluten free. I love that soup. It's ridiculously tasty. And instead of thinking - hey, don't people usually use flower in bisques? I thought, - yummm, what could go wrong with a corn based soup? Well, the answer to that is the past 24 hours.

If anything, this confirms that yes, boys and girls, I do have celiac disease. You know, in case I did not believe the blood test results, endoscopy results, and every other medical assessment. It amazes me how quickly I can feel the discomfort of eating something wrong. Usually however I just feel gross and bloated and my joints hurt. This time around, my stomach recoiled.

So, you know, maybe the illness is evolving. Or maybe I've been so careful for so long that last night's stupidity led to more profound symptoms.

Who the hell knows? All I know is that my favorite soup at Au Bon Pain is strictly off limits. Which, really is not the big a deal. I don't really go there that often. Last night was a fluke. I had a shopping excursion with two middle schooled age girls and we needed quick eats before going home. I should have copied my niece and had a smoothie.

Testing...

2009-02-01T10:22:00.001-05:00

I just downloaded a new app for my iPhone that allows me to post blogs from my phone.

This is quite exciting.

You know, for those occassions where I'm too lazy to walk over to my computer.

i have a crush

2009-01-28T19:43:00.002-05:00

on a gay man.

At least I think it's a crush.

It might just be a mild infatuation. Or a random desire. Or a fascination with the man having less to do with anything desirous or lustful.

I mean, I don't want to kiss him (I'd probably giggle really loud if that ever happened) and I don't want to see him naked. Hell, I don't even want to see him shirtless. Although after spending the better part of yesterday morning thinking about it, he'd probably look damn good shirtless. I think he might be a runner. He looks fit.

But I am enamored.

It's sort of the way I fell for Obama. Something about being present for a great speech while the speaker is wearing a well cut suit and has good hair. It just works. I mean, there's a lot more to my Obama love (his politics for one. My happiness at the end of the Bush era for another.) And there's a lot more to my Team Paul (that's my nickname for him) fascination.

He is on the different side of my political fence. But when he speaks I feel like he gets it. He knows what needs to be done. He's practical, but I think unafraid of making unpopular decisions during a difficult time. He seems to be a good person in a crisis.

And that is something I admire. Because, me, no, I do awful in crisis. I crumble. I cry. I shake. I talk fast (pyschologists refer to it as pressured speech when it happens in a manic phase.) I sort of lose my cool. And when you don't have a lot of "cool" to begin with, it's basically a disaster.

So, when I am confronted with someone who seems like he or she can handle that crisis, I attach. And sometimes they become that friend in a clutch. And sometimes I just admire from afar while perfecting the art of making a fool of myself everytime I speak to the person.

Team Paul and I - we're in the latter category. There was the "aw fuck!" incident of 2004 (I think it was 2004). And then there was the time I called him a girl. And the time he caught me napping. And that time I was completely unable to answer that oh so loaded question of "how are you?"

I wish I could be more in control of my idiocy when I was around him. I wish I could have a conversation and not find myself wanting to fall back to my safe role of loveable fool. I'm actually pretty smart. And I have good ideas. And I should share them. But instead of being that person, I become the person who talks in pressured speech and makes snarky comments at inappropriate times.

I like to think that in a parallel universe, I'm much more in control of this idiocy and Team Paul and I are great friends. In fact, perhaps he hires me to work for him. It's a comforting thought. That there's a version of me out there that knows how to be cool on occasion.

The most random and crazy of happenstances

2009-01-23T19:40:00.004-05:00

So, I named the blog "Crazy Random Happenstance" for the simple reason that I'm a nerd. And I loved Dr. Horrible's Sing A-Long Blog (and now watch it on my iPod while running at the gym.) And I needed a name and poof! it just appeared out of nowhere.

And then as things sometimes happen in life, you realize the truth behind certain cliched phrases. Like that one time my sophomore year of college when my neighbor was looking at a bumper sticker on someone's back pack and she said "Mean people really do suck." I mean, duh. But it's like so totally true. And so the same with crazy random happenstances. Something that maybe didn't pop into my everyday vocabulary until just this past July, but I am realizing more and more that there are a lot of these little random happenstances in life. In fact, one might even say that life is just one big crazy random happenstance.

Okay, so there's my quick philosophy theory for this Friday evening.

This week's Crazy Random Happenstance of choice - my family. Or to be more specific, my mother's family. A few years back when my aunt died, I started to realize how much about my parent's I didn't know. I could get a lot of knowledge about my dad through his nieces and his sisters. But my mom was a different story. She came to the U.S when she was 20 with her mother and her brother. My mom's memory has been pretty fuzzy since she had her initial cardiac event when I was 14 and lost her short term memory. My grandmother passed away when I was still in college. And over the years, family tensions and stubborn minds have prevailed keeping us pretty distant from the rest of her family aside from a niece and nephew. The family tensions and stubborn minds are on all sides. And have trickled down through generations. And now even I am stuck unable to really talk to my uncle or try to re-connect with my cousins.

Since my mom died in October, I've had this really desperate need to know more about her. I want to know who she was before she became my mom. Before she moved here. What were her dreams and her hopes. Stuff I never had the chance to really talk about. How many people have those heart to hearts with their mom when they are 13 and younger? I know I didn't. But I think we would have been close when I was older. We were close. But it was different. Our relationship was very much flip flopped. And as such, there was a lot I never got to as. Or if I did ask I was never sure what was true.

This desperate need has translated to a few near phone calls to my uncle. A few attempts to pry stories out of my dad (who only take on story teller roles after he's had a few glasses of wine.) A few random conversations with cousins who knew my mom from the minute she married into my dad's family. But those conversations were all pretty superficial. And I can't yet bring myself to call my uncle. What would I say? How do you overcome a family's lifetime of anger with a simple phone call? And is it even up to me to do it? That I still need to mull over. I'm still reeling from the fact that my mother is dead. How can I move forward on that front?

And where is the crazy random happenstance in all of this?

This week I received an email from my mom's cousin in Italy. A person I did not even know existed. A person who was looking for me because he is trying to finish a family tree. It's like someone just threw me a little gift. Out of nowhere. And now I need to act on it.

There's trepidation for sure. How did this person even know I exist? Why now? Why me? Why not my brother who visited my mother's hometown?

But not to act on it would be wrong. And contrary to everything I keep saying I want. I want to know who my mom was - so who best than someone who apparently played with her as a child. Maybe I can finally find a way to name all the people in my mother's old photos.

And that is where my random life keeps heading.

And my gluten free food recommendation for the week - Trader Joe's Gluten Free Ginger Snaps. Spicy + Sweet = AWESOME

monday night tv

2009-01-16T09:54:00.004-05:00

I watch a lot of tv. Wait too much. More than is probably healthy. I think once I got the DVR hookup, I started watching even more television. Because, you know, I could record sooooo much.

The next few months are proving to be a little bit stressful. As so happens (quite randomly, or not...) Monday nights are going to be furiously insane tv viewing nights. There's How I Met Your Mother and Heroes (which I still begrudgingly watch - I have faith, you know?), and now 24 has come back. But more importantly than all that I am in love with Chuck.

Why Chuck, you ask?

Well, I've decided that instead of writing about the possibly stalker esque owner of my gym (a place which reminds me of Average Joe's in the movie Dodgeball) or the local opinion columnist doing all that is in his power to convince people my place of employment should not exist or the fact that my co-worker "Accidentally" wore her mom's pants to work yesterday - I will write for you TEN REASONS WHY YOU SHOULD WATCH CHUCK.

1. It's created by Joshua Schwartz. Who's he? Well he created The OC. And Gossip Girl (which I have yet to watch - it's in my Netflix queue). Say what you will about The OC, but that first season was fab. It was wonderful. I was such a sucker for Ryan's brooding and Seth's adorableness. Marissa didn't piss me off yet. And hello, Summer Roberts was totally awesome!

2. It's about a regular guy becoming a spy. And who doesn't love that idea? I used to love playing spy games as a kid. And this crazy thing called the internet makes spying (or stalking - it's all semantics people) so much easier. Yes, the plot is a tad contrived - according to IMDB.COM - When a twenty-something computer geek inadvertently downloads critical government secrets into his brain, his former college friend turned CIA recruits him as a secret agent, all while keeping him out of evil hands -- But trust me, it works.

3. One reason it works so well is Zachery Levi or Chuck. He's tall, slightly awkward, and not immediately attractive, yet cute. This is also known as the Jim Halpert effect. He's not immediately handsome. He spends most of the show wearing the uniform of the Buy More Nerd Herd and drives around in a tiny Toyota Matrix (I think that's the car.) And that site of him in the car is hilarious. But he also carries his part well. You root for him even if you think the story is ridiculous.

4. Another reason it works so well is Yvonne Strahovski. She plays Sarah, a CIA agent with the task of protecting the "asset" known as Chuck. It's pretty clear she has feelings for Chuck, but plays her role deftly and brilliantly. She does more with a look then the entire cast of Heroes does with words. Oh and she's hot. And she can kick ass. OH! And she is a woman who is hot and kicking ass and not using sex to do so.

5. Oh another reason it works so well is Adam Baldwin. He plays Casey - an operative with the NSA who is also given the task of protecting Chuck. But we all love him as Jayne on Firefly. And that's really the reason I started watching the show. I love anything Firefly related (although I still haven't been able to watch the Sarah Connor Chronicles.) Plus Adam Baldwin plays uptight Casey as someone tough on the outside but soft in the middle. He has this gooey inside that you can't wait to see crumble week after week as he develops real emotions for Chuck.

6. The writing. I had been watching this after Heroes. And the drastic difference between that writing and this writing is astounding. The show is clever. Pop cultures are thrown in but not overabused (something Josh Schwartz learned with The OC). I am never bored by the dialogue. I don't get distracted by a knitting project and miss half of what just happened. I'm sucked in from beginning to end.

7. Chuck loves his iPhone. And I love my iPhone. iPhone's make everything better.

8. Captain Awesome and Ellie and Morgan and the rest of the Buy More crew. When they all work seamless - the show cracks, pops, and sizzles.

9. Gary Cole as Sarah's (CIA agent) dad. He may or may not make a re-appearance. But his brief spot this season was brilliant. It reminded me of why we love Gary Cole. He's Lundberg. He's the dad from the Brady Bunch movies. He's good in everything he does.

10. The theme song is Cake's "Short Skirt, Long Jacket." 'Nuff said.

And this would be the end of my Chuck Public Service Announcement.

Not a decider

2009-01-11T19:26:00.006-05:00

I don't like having to make decisions. It's not a bright line dislike. Some decisons I don't mind making. Such as deciding to chop off my hair. Or spending $200 on a pair of green heels. Or buying the entire series of Angel on dvd.

These are decisions I have no problem making.

But then are those other decisions.

The ones you rumble with all day. The ones that aren't even that important, but have consumed all of your thinking. Yeah - those decisions I can't make. I tend to research the hell out of them.

Right now I'm rumbling with the decision of whether or not to buy a new computer. I love my iMac. I've had it for 4.5 years. It still works pretty well. But there are a few things. There's not a lot of RAM, the OS is 4 years old, the hard drive does not have that much space. I made the mistake of walking into the apple store last night and playing with a new MacBook. I asked some questions and it's probably feasible for me to increase the RAM and upgrade the OS on my iMac for under $300. That is fiscally responsible. I am not sure about the upgrading of the hard drive yet. I didn't think of that question until today.

And well, did I mention that I played with the new MacBook?

So, my decision making is now muddled with shiny new computer versus frugality in difficult times.

I am ignoring thinking about it right now. I'm watching the Golden Globes. I'm a sucker for awards shows. I love it. I have spent many a run planning my awards acceptance speech in my head to get me through. It's fun. It's a good way to power through a hill.

And in what might become a routine post on my part - a gluten free baking adventure. I baked some bread and I think it was my best yet. I used the Bob's Red Mill Wonderful Homemade Bread. It's a mix based on garbanzo beans and while that doesn't sound entirely tasty - let me assure you it is (if you are not opposed to the bean taste.) I used the gluten free setting on my breadmaker and tried a few new suggestions from my dad. He bakes amazing bread (with gluten) and taught himself after my mom fell ill. I asked him how he preps the yeast and he suggested warming up the liquid more than I had been. He was very wary with the fact that the gluten free setting did not have a rising section - but that's the way without gluten. With no gluten, there's no need for the dough to rise for hours. It's not getting any higher. Anyway, this excites me. Bread that sort of looks like regular bread.

From January 2008 album

Why did I not know about the Gaslight Anthem before last night. This is an awesome album.

2009-01-06T09:02:00.004-05:00

It's the first post of this new year. 2009. I think it will be okay. Based on all the pamphlets I was handed regarding grief, I am supposed to not make any decisions for one year. So in October, I will be chock full of 'em. No sudden movements if you will.

Of course, sometimes you can't control the sudden movements. For example, the state legislature could just decide to make your job irrelevant because of one newspaper writer's crusade. And then you're suddenly sitting at home without a job that really when you think about it, you didn't hate. You liked what you did. It was the people that made it harder than it should be.

Or family keeps thinking you should date so they set you up with people. Can I open the first date with "Hi, according to this pamphlet the hospital gave me, I am not supposed to make any sudden decisions for a year. I have X number of months left."

Or you really need to get out for a bit. Is a spontaneous vacation a sudden movement? Of course, I am not the most spontaneous kiddo in the world. So there would be super planning for the supposed spontaneity.

Instead of planning for this year or doing any meditative journaling on the topic, I sat on my futon last night knitting a red hat and watching Buffy. It's that wierd season of Buffy where they bring her back from the dead and she begins this really unhealthy and violent affair with Spike and Dawn becomes a shoplifter and Willow was all super crazy witch in recovery and Anya and Zander are supposed to get married. But, it did have the AWESOME musical episode.

hmmm.. Maybe Joss Whedon should do musicals more often. Ahem, Mr. Whedon. Please? Pretty please? I would love it. It would make this girl so happy.

But I do have a couple new year resolves. Not resolutions. These are things I resolve to do more often. I want to travel more. And by travel I mean, just get out of my house more. Take a day off and go to a museum. Take a train ride to New York. Go to Boston. Also visit my friend Sara in Chicago. I will do that this year.

I also want to try to go back to yoga again. I haven't gone to a yoga class since the day after my mom died. I started yoga years ago looking for quiet. That quiet was scary recently. It scares me less now.

Use my knitting powers for good. Not evil. And finish the red hat.

The 2008 Year in Review

2008-12-29T14:46:00.005-05:00

So, last year Jacqueline started this trend on her myspace blog. Then Jess copied her. Then I copied. Jess brought it back this year. And I copied.

Yes, I am a lemming. But I am breaking trend in that I am not doing this in the third person.

Song of the year:

“No No No N0” Mate of State
“Sweet Darlin'” She & Him
“Magick" Ryan Adams
The soundtrack to Dr. Horrible's Sing A Long Blog

And the winner is: Unlike last year - I think these songs actually were all released this year. As much as I adore Ryan Adams and fell in love with She & Him and I do like screaming "No, No, No" over and over again - there is no choice that the winner is Dr. Horrible's Sing A Long Blog. I reference a lyric every day. Hell, look at the name of this blog. There really should just be one nominee. But I wanted to be fair.

Show of the year:

Neko Case at the Calvin Theater in Northampton
Isabella playing at the Bushnell
She & Him at the Academy of Music
Luch and Vinnie Rocking out in the basement like it was 1985 again

And the winner is: Ummm.. I feel like there are some missing here - but these were probably the best. The winner is She & Him. Even with the wierd opening act. I did not stop smiling for almost the entire hour.

Movie of the Year:

The Dark Knight
Tropic Thunder
Dr. Horrible's Sing A Long Blog
Iron Man

And the winner is: Hands down, The Dark Knight. I love Dr. Horrible (again the title of this blog) but I was giddy with anticipation for the Dark Knight for the past year. And it fulfilled my expectations. I sat there dumbfounded and amazed the entire time. Even the annoying Bat voice didn't bring me down.

TV Show/Episode/Moment of the Year:

Lost - the scene where Jin dies. You know the one. Sun screaming in the helicopter.
Mad Men - the whole shebang
30 Rock - The Subway hero episode.
How I Met Your Mother - The Bracket.
Dr. Who - The Library episodes

And the winner is: I inserted this category because I watch a lot of TV. Probably too much. But, I thought it was another fun thing to think about. I left out a lot. That scene in the season finale of Battlestar Galactica when they discover Earth. Saturday Night Live and Tina Fey. Wondering if Keith Olbermann might explode on MSNBC. But, the most amazing thing I watched all year was Mad Men. I loved my Sunday nights. I could not wait for the next episode each week and each week I fell in love with the women of that show.

Book of the Year:

The Twilight series
Things the Grandchildren Should Know by Mark Oliver Everett
Y: The Last Man by Brian K. Vaughn
Gluten Free Girl by Shauna James Ahern

And the winner is: A lot of my life was sucked away due to Twilight (get it - sucked away) but Things the Grandchildren Should Know should have made me fall apart when I read it - but it made me laugh, smile, and I could not stop reading it. I highly recommend it if you want to feel inspired and just enjoy a good story. Life-changing, I don't know. But something definitely happened.

Work Accomplishment of the Year:

Judge Lawlor knowing my name
The May CAPC meeting that was awesome even with drama
Shutting the door

And the winner is: This is really hard. One of my New Year resolutions for 2008 was to have the Judge know my name, but then he resigned. I hope there is no correlation. But I think the May CAPC meeting takes it by a hair. There was drama. I have new nicknames for people. And I think I rocked it. If you want to full story - by me a gimlet and we can discuss.

Saying of the Year:

Everything said in Maine. Favorites include "I'll just wait for him to pull out" and "I just want to get higher."
What's a Virgin? - Tessa asking her grandmother.
There was pervasive damage to your intestinal villi. - Dr. Wu
"You'll always be 26" - Dave aka Aiden aka Adrien aka He Who Shall Not Be Named

And the winner is: "Pervasive damage” takes the gluten free cake. After those few words I had to transform the way I live and eat and think. It was a tough and interesting adjustment that is still ongoing.

Sports Moment of the Year:

Napoli briefing sitting atop Serie A.
Being happy that I won't be forced to watch the Superbowl in 2009 because none of the teams either of my brothers support is involved.
the Wii Fit Christmas Day snowboarding competition.

And the winner is: Ummm... Napoli sitting atop Serie A was really nice, but I just can't get into American football so not having to hear about the Superbowl next year is soooo awesome.

Meal Experience of the Year:

Everything at Kripalu - but specifically that one night of the neverending dinner
The first gluten free cupcake
The pasta the first night at Emery's in Maine
Dinner in Little Brazil after Rent

And the winner is: All great experiences and wonderful in their own way. But Kripalu wins. It was my first week of eating entirely gluten free and it was sooo damn good and clean.

Best Supporting Actor in a Chick Lit/Flick Comedy:

Jacqueline and Jess
Dave a.k.a Adrien a.k.a Aiden a.k.a. He Who Shall Not Be Named
The Starbucks crew
Team Paul

And the winner is: Ummm... Two repeat nominees. Two new ones. But I'm just gonna go with Team Paul because, well Team Paul. I called him a girl. I've called him my candidate for hope and change. I, yeah... I have issues.

Best Scene in a Chick Lit/Flick Comedy:

Calling Team Paul a girl
The Maine trip
"So, my band opened up for Hanson."

And the winner is: Hanson? Really? Anyway, I think the best scene is calling Team Paul a girl. I mean, I called him a girl.

Storyline of the Year:

Fist pounding declaration of the year of me
Starbucks Girls
My mom

Moment of the Year:

October 8, 2008, 5 pm, St. Francis Hospital

And the winner is:

These two categories are together for one simple reason - there was no other storyline or moment this year that meant anything more to me. I've tried to keep this list comical and happy, but those of you who know me - know that it is not a comical and happy time. I've struggled the past few months and I know I will survive and as the cliche goes, probably emerge stronger from the ashes. But, watching my mother breathe her last breath took a lot out of me. I've over compensated a bit in order to survive the holidays, but I won't lie - it's been really, really hard.

Thanks for reading. Looking forward to 2009 is sublime.

Holiday sounds

2008-12-23T09:48:00.004-05:00

For music while you finish wrapping, baking, cleaning, shopping, cooking, eating, entertaining, and drinking - go here.

Enjoy!

snow and cupcakes...

2008-12-21T18:07:00.009-05:00

Snow is wonderful. I'm a big fan - even when it continues for nearly three days. I don't play in it nearly as much as I used to, but I love to watch it and I really love the way it forces you to just slow down.

Sure, you obsess over clearing it out so you can drive out of your driveway - but until it stops you really just have to wait.

You have to take an afternoon and watch a movie. Or a soccer game. Read a book. Bake cupcakes.

I finally baked the ginger molasses cupcakes today. They were wonderful. So damn good. Really. I am so happy I found this recipe on Gluten Free Girl because I will be making more for Christmas Eve. They have that great spicy ginger taste that I've recently come to like. I tweaked it a bit because I didn't have all the right ingredients at home and due to the lack of plowing I could not get out to the grocery store.

I've now wrapped all my little packages to bring to work for everyone. I decided I wanted to share my gluten free baking in the hopes that one day my dream of a bakery or mail order business might come true. Basically I give you presents in the hope that one day you'll give me money to open the business.

I still need to work on my frosting skills. I'm not all that graceful and I'm intrigued to try making a dairy free frosting at some point.

I'm not quite done with my shopping and I still have to finish the grocery shopping for Christmas Eve dinner. Ohhh so many things to do....

But they will just have to wait for the snow to end.

Merry Christmas

2008-12-17T21:15:00.008-05:00

Despite the frightening state of this economy, I bought these shoes. They are Cole Hahn and I ordered them off Zappos.com which assured me that I was getting a deal. Somehow I found it completely respectable to spend over a $150 on a pair of green suede heels. Actually, I still do. The shoes are awesome. And they also are among the most comfortable heels I've ever put on my feet. Cole Hahn has the Nike Support Cushiony thingamajig going on in the soles and it feels so heavenly to put on. And, they look ahmazing.

I believe in the power of heels. I understand that some find that they overly sexualize woman and force a submissiveness. Or that we just wear them because society demands it. Or that they are impractical. (I'm basically talking about Germain Greer here.) But I say that's total and complete hogwash. I feel immensely more confident when I am walking in a heel. I feel like I am taken seriously at work and in life. And hell, sometimes don't we want to feel hot and as a girl with a ton of body image issues, I must say I feel hot in a pair of heels. And my green suede Cole Hahns do the trick.

Anyway, if I'm overly sexualized in my heels, I am also apparently overly domesticated in my love of baking and cooking. The rest of household tasks can be done by robots, but the cooking is always going to be my domain. Sadly, my living situation right now doesn't allow me to cook much despite how much I love it. Since my mom has passed away, my dad's need to care for people has fallen to me which means dinner is always cooked and waiting for me. And it also means I always come home too late. But, baking is all me. And since going gluten free, I am newly obsessed with it. I love to play around with the various flours involved and tweak various recipes I've discovered. There's something oddly satisfying about watching that loaf of gluten free bread come out juuuust right.

So tonight, I baked. I have a few friends coming over some holiday cheer tomorrow night and I thought I would try and make the affair as gluten free as possible. I made cupcakes. I'm obsessed with cupcakes right now. I'm also obsessed with homemade frosting - none of that out of a jar crap. Making your own frosting takes two seconds and is sooo worth it once you realize how much better it tastes.

Anyway, this year instead of dozens of cookies, I'm focusing on cupcakes. I'm also trying to find a way to give cupcakes away to people as a little holiday token. Cookies are easy, you put them in a plate or even a gift bag or a tiny tin. Cupcakes need some planning. Suggestions?

Tonight was not nearly as adventurous as I had originally hoped it would be. I was doing a few other things at the same time - like felting for the first time, writing out Christmas cards, and watching the Muppets Christmas special. I decided to just take the easy way out and use Pamela's cake mixes and make chocolate and vanilla cupcakes. So I didn't have to play with all the flours I had taken out of the downstairs freezer in anticipation.

I also didn't make the frosting yet. That is better done tomorrow night so it doesn't get watery. I have a recipe for ginger molasses cupcakes I found on Gluten Free Girl that I didn't have the energy to try. That will be this weekend's project. The cupcakes looks good.

They taste pretty good also. And the felted bag came out pretty good as well.
It was my first felting experience. I'm excited at how well it seems to have turned out.
You can't tell much in this picture and it is still drying down in the basement. But it is supposed to be my niece's Christmas present. Or one of them at least. And I am pretty impressed at how easy it was to do.

Apparently I have become a super girlie girl in the past year. Hmm... Interesting evolution. But I still love my Converse and am still obsessed with Dr. Who.

Randoms

2008-12-07T23:30:00.000-05:00

When I titled this blog, I did not put much thought into it. I really, really like Dr. Horrible's Singalong Blog and I like that part where Billy brings frozen yogurt to the laundromat and notes what a "crazy random happenstance" it is that the frozen yogurt place gave him two frozen yogurts and Penny loves frozen yogurt. And I thought it was a fun thing to say.

No real thought put into that, you see.

Except after a couple instances this weekend, I'm beginning to realize that life is indeed a series of crazy, random happenstances. Profound I know.

The first happened on Friday. I was at work attempting to do some research on a file. I finally gave up looking through our archaic resources and made a phone call to another attorney who has much better resources. After I had my question answered, we started talking about our impending weekends and somehow we ended up talking about college. Turns out we were in two of the same classes during our college years and never knew each other.

Random, right?

Things continued in the random variety all day. I went to the grocery store for soy milk and walked into an old floor mate from my freshman year of college. And by walked into - I mean, I walked into her and nearly knocked the soy milk from my hands.

The randomness continued the following morning. I was rushing to New Haven to grab the 7:55 train to Grand Central where I was to meet my brother and family. I heard it choo chooing away as I raced down the stairs of the parking garage. I sighed. Noticed that I had twenty minutes for the next train. Waited in the long line for the bathroom. Bought a bottle of water. And strolled to track ten. I sat in my seat and as we were about to take off, a women with her daughter and two granddaughters came into the train looking for seats. She was quite vocal about her distaste and having to sit so separated from each other. In order to make things easier on everyone I gave up my seat so the could sit near each other. I really didn't need to have these folks talking back and forth over my head for the 90+ minutes.

I ended up sitting next to a recent graduate from the Yale Divinity School who worked with a nonprofit organization and was headed into the City for a training with Eve Ensler. At Parsons. I asked her if Tim Gunn would make an appearance (even though we all know he no longer works at Parsons.)

We talked continuously for the whole train ride about our pasts as organizers and giddiness over the impending administration. It was a great conversation and the train ride was over in a flash.

Random.

And so unlike my normal train experiences which involve me sitting with my iPod blaring and book on my lap ignoring the people around me. Not really much of a talker. This was an interesting change of pace.

But I still had a slight moment of wondering about where my life is headed. What is it I aspire to? I am not ever quite sure. I am pretty damn sure it isn't the work I am currently doing. But for now I stay here. I'm not really in a place to consider changes. Any change I make right now is not for the right reasons. And there's that whole issues of a tanking economy. You know, the little things.

Since my mother passed away I've been consumed with this need to figure out a way to live the best version of my life. It sounds cliche, I know. But, how do you best honor someone who was so important to you. I don't know her that well. Or I should say I don't know the woman my mother was before she was my mother very well. Based on what I do know, I think a lot about what she may have wanted from life. And I feel like it's my responsibility to live that out for her.

All that thinking based on a conversation with a stranger during a train ride. It's a talent.

The randomness was over, I thought, for the weekend. Until I made it into the mall the following day (Sunday) and noticed one of my favorite Starbucks guys from the Farmington Starbucks working at the one in the mall. Sadly, he will be there for the rest of the holiday season making my afternoon coffee runs less lively.

Now of course, I feel compelled to look for all the randoms in my life.

new beginnings...

2008-12-01T16:10:00.003-05:00

See www.xanga.com/laliaberry for my current and soon to be old blog. This one has been up for a while and I've never done anything with it since it seemed to take so much effort to close up the other one. But, here I am. Again. New name. Same colors. Kind of like that new Fast and Furious movie - New Model, Original Parts. (Oh Vin Diesel how you make me laugh out loud during movie trailers.)

But I'm in the process of closing up shop on my xanga blog. I've been there for over four years. Started right before the 2004 election. There's a lot of anger and sadness there. And occasionally the exceptionally written post. In light of the massive changes to my life and this country's life it seemed like a new space and a new forum was where I should be. I tried this many times before.
And well, it never stuck. I think it will this time.

It's a strange process - this closing up. I don't want to remove everything - because some of it is really well done. Some of it is crap. But all of it is what I am. I am going to keep it up for a while. Or at least until I figure out a way to back it all up.

who knows...

2006-05-11T09:44:00.000-04:00

i've been working on this for a while. it's a "story" but doesn't follow the traditional narrative arc. so can it still be a story?

There I sat. Tuesday afternoon. In the Starbucks near work. In the paisley chair by the window watching the two pre-teen boys trying to grind a bike rack. And not doing a very good job. The blonde fell twice every ten minutes and the redhead fell twice as frequently. But their determination was remarkable. No fall was too bad. No fall was worth stopping. In fact stopping would be failure, a violation to their private code of honor.

I thought about the code of honor. The code amongst boys. The honor among girls. You never tell. You don’t steal from each other. Never quit. Always give it a shot. Try.

The pain in my leg pounded towards my brain. Isn’t pain actually a mental feeling versus physical? Isn’t all pain based in the brain? How long does it take the pain to travel towards the receptors in my brain indicating to me that my leg was on fire? Figuratively. It felt like the inside of my calf muscle had exploded with fire. It seemed that at any moment it would burst to the outside and my leg would be a flaming stick.

I wondered if the boys felt the pain as they pounded towards the pavement. How long it took their brain to realize they were in pain? Apparently a long time. Minus one or two winces, they kept going.

I admired them and smiled. Then winced.

A Gram Parsons song started playing in the background. How odd. It is rare that Starbucks would play a straight up country song. Alt-country yes. Country-infused jazz hell yes. But straight up country, rare. But maybe Gram Parsons was not considered straight up country. He sounded more like the alt-country CDs in my collection, then the country I heard playing in the pick up truck next door to my apartment.

My cell phone buzzed. I looked to the message. My brother wrote to say he was back. He wanted news. Scoop. Details. What had happened since he left? I put my phone back in my bag. I would call him back from the office.

What had happened? How long did it take her to realize she was pain? It seemed instantaneous. She is in pain, always. Wincing. Sore. Tired.

It was hard to keep straight. At this point six doctors were involved. Three hospitals. Two conflicting opinions. And a dozen or so of drugs.

I didn’t care for it. But it was easy to be in control. Be in charge. I preferred to be in the know than out of it. I wanted to be the one in charge. Yet I did not care for it. I was not a fan of responsibility. But I was always the most responsible. Voted "MR" in 8th grade. 10th grade. 12th grade. Grad school. I hated that title. Of all superlatives to win. Being responsible was the foulest thing someone can say about you.

How did Gram Parsons die? Was it a plane crash? Drug overdose? He was quite fun to listen to. The barista behind the counter was having some fun singing along.

The skater boys walked inside the Starbucks and complained about the music. They placed their skateboards at the corner table and ordered Mocha Frappaccinos with extra whipped cream. The redhead walked to the bathroom looking at the gash on his elbow.

My cell phone buzzed again.

‘Hello.’

‘Hi. Have you made a decision?’

‘No.’

‘Well, have you all spoken about it?’

‘For the past five days.’

‘What’s the problem?’

‘How do you decide?’

‘I don’t know.’

I sighed. I looked out the window and watched a pigtailed pre-schooler hug her mother. She was wearing denim overalls and a pink t-shirt. I remembered going to the farm when I was in pre-school. My mom came on the field trip with me. I wore denim overalls and a rainbow t-shirt. I didn’t have pigtails. My hair was too short. But I sat on my mom’s lap during the hayride. There is a picture of me squeezing her face while laughing hanging in our den.

‘So, what are you going to do?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Can I help you with anything?’

‘Have you harnessed the ability to turn back time?’

‘Not yet. Working on it, though.’

‘Well, let me know when that works out for you.’

‘Sure thing. Anything else?’

‘How about developing the power to heal?’

‘Like the alien from Roswell?’

‘Yeah.’

I looked back to the little girl. She was so happy. The mother looked thrilled to be so immersed in her life. Content. Realized.

‘I’ll come over later.’

‘Sure.’

‘Bye.’

‘Bye.’

The redhead came out of the bathroom holding multiple paper towels to his elbow. He had managed to create a unique bandaging system to contain his gash.

We needed a unique bandaging system.

The blonde started to laugh at his friend. The redhead yelled at his insensitivity.

Sensitivity can be hard to maintain. How can you even remain sad about something? At some point, you become numb. You cease to feel. At some point, you lack emotion. You lack thought.

Over the long term you forget that something is supposed to be depressing. Your emotions lose control, but you maintain rational power. The period for irrationality has gone. And rational thought consumes you. Yet at the same time, you feel completely unhinged. At any moment you will lash out at the co-worker using a binder clip in short supply where a regular paper clip would work fine. At any moment, the Titanic theme song can make you cry.

I looked through my planner and found the picture from my fifth birthday. I was smiling at the cake and licking my lips. My mom sat in a chair next to me smiling. She was so pretty here. Her hair was short and she was dressed in the finest seventies fashion. Orange scarf, brown t-shirt and probably some sort of denim bottom. The party was a huge success and the cake was the best part. She used to make a cake of multiple layers frosted with homemade pudding instead of that other sugar frosting. She used pudding to frost everything from cakes to cupcakes to even attempting cookies. The cake was covered in chocolate pudding and had pink writing. "Pumpkin’s 5th birthday."

I stared at the picture. Ten years later she would nearly die. Ten years later she would lose her sense of self. Lose the realized and content mother she was in this picture. Lose her individual style.

Twenty years later her children would be faced with the decision of how to preserve her quality of life. How best to keep her alive with the least pain for the longest amount of time with the highest quality of life? Face the choice of possible death by incision or lingering pain and certain future death.

I exhaled deeply and looked at the two boys. They had started shooting spitballs at one another. Much to the annoyance of the barista.

My phone buzzed again. I looked at the name on the screen. He was calling again. Concerned. I sipped my grande Americano. ‘Hello.’

‘Hey, I was thinking. Why don’t I take you to dinner tonight?’

‘Why?’

‘Maybe it will be good to change scenery? Take your mind off stuff.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Why not?’

‘Just because.’

‘Dinner.’

‘No.’

‘Dinner.’

'Hey, remember that song "Basketcase" by Green Day?’

‘I think so.’

‘Remember – Do you have the time, to listen to me whine.’

‘Yeah. What about it?’

‘I think it’s my theme song.’

‘Interesting.’

‘You know that part of being neurotic to the bone and sometimes I give myself the creeps. That’s me right now. Is there a problem with that? My new song in life is by Green Day?’

‘I always liked that "When I Come Around" song.’

‘Listen to me. I’m talking about my new theme song. The easy way to sum up how I am feeling.’

‘Yeah, but I was just sharing my thoughts on the band.’

‘But, I need to talk about me. Me.’ I sighed. ‘Forget it.’ The phone beeped. ‘Hey I gotta go My
phone’s beeping it might be important. Bye.’

‘Dinner. Tonight. I’ll be at your place at 7 to pick you up.’

‘Whatever.’ I pulled the phone off my ear and clicked over. I smiled at the middle aged woman staring at me in disgust as I said, ‘Hello?’

‘Hey. Hear anything?’

‘No.’ Everything fell. Thoughts. Spirits. Down. The air felt very heavy.

‘Okay, well I just talked to Jolie and she had some news about the doctor.’

‘What?’ I sunk into the seat and then the cushion. I wanted to push straight through towards the floor.

‘Well, she thinks that based on what she has experienced working with him, that maybe he is not the most adventurous doctor.’

‘Well, do we want adventure in a doctor?’

‘I mean, he may not be the most pro-active doctor. He won’t look for the most creative solutions.’

‘Well, maybe we don’t need creativity now. I mean, maybe non-creativity is a good thing. Maybe it’s good that he doesn’t want to be too adventurous because he knows the odds of too much adventure.’

‘I just want to make sure everyone has a plan.’

‘I have had a plan from day one. I know that she will wear that red dress at her funeral. That we will have a spray of yellow, white and red roses. I know what readings need to be read. I know that I’ll be a mess and not good for a very long time. I have a plan for that too. It’s called excessive amounts of alcohol and numbing agents. Don’t you worry about a plan.’

‘It just seems like you’ve taken a do nothing approach.’

‘I’m just thinking. Sorting. Trying to keep things straight.’

‘Well, Jolie said..’

‘Jolie is a receptionist in a medical office. She’s not a professional.’

‘She’s a medical assistant.’

‘She is a woman who ignored that her son had an eating disorder until he was hooked to an IV.’

‘She has medical experience.’

‘She knows CPR. So do I. So does my entire office. We had to take lessons last year when that guy choked on a pretzel.’

‘Well, she’s around this stuff more than we are.’

‘I see the patient everyday.’

‘Well, I’d hate to see her die a slow death.’

‘We’re all dying a slow death.’ And some slower. And some more painful. My God, why do I let her talk to me?

‘I know you’re very stressed right now and don’t mean anything. Just keep me posted.’

‘Sure thing.’ Like hell. ‘I need to run back to work. I have a deposition in 20 minutes to prep for and I have a flow chart I need to finish putting together. I also have to make sure the experts in the class action are qualified. I mean, it’s a killer day.’

‘Huh? Which class action?’ My God, does she know everything?

‘Oh man, my phone’s beeping. It’s the office. Gotta run, bye.’ I hung up the phone and sank back into the chair. I looked around and noticed the skater boys had left. Anti-cell phone woman had left as well. But I heard her huff and puff and blow away. I was alone with Parsons lover/barista. But Gram Parsons was no longer playing. It had changed to something louder and angrier. Better suited.

So there I sat. Tuesday afternoon during lunch. In the Starbucks near work. In my favorite paisley chair by the window watching two different teenage boys trying to grind a bike ramp. These two were actually quite good. But lazy. They would each take a turn and then sit back on the ground to relax. Smiling, laughing. Making fun of each other. Abiding by a private code of honor.