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.

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...)

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'.

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.

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.