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!!!!!!"
Friday, April 02, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
do you want to make me cry?
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.]
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.]
Saturday, March 27, 2010
saturdays
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.
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.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Words
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Spring
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.
Enjoy:
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:
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
while the boss is away ...
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.
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.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Rainy weekend musings
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 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.
Wednesday, March 03, 2010
i don't wear nearly enough flannel
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.
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
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.
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.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Happy Anniversary
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.
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.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Get ready kids...
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...)
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...)
Thursday, February 18, 2010
anger
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'.
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'.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
life, right now.
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.
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.
Friday, February 05, 2010
can you hear it calling
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
I drank the Kool Aid yet again.
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."
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
being sick sucks
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
The Mean Reds
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:
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.
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:
"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
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