Tuesday, September 27, 2011

BOOBIES!!!!

blogger boobiethon begins october 1st!

Look.

I know some of you hate the pink. Some of you have issues with Komen.

SOME of you even hate boobies.

I don’t give two shits.

Breast cancer has now affected my “sister’s” mom, my mother’s cousin, and one of the coolest people I’ve ever met. I’m in a fighting mood this year. More than usual.

There’s a couple of new people reading this who are about to learn something about me… and I’m not sorry if this changes your perception of me:

I share pictures of my boobies as well as open my wallet every year.


As I’ve said in the past,  Anyhoo, with the exception of one year, I’ve been involved ever since. I’ve given my cash, my time, and yes, my rack.

Seriously, it’s quite astonishing to realize that my boobies have been made available on teh interweb since 2002. It’s not something I would normally do and I’m never quite 100% with posting pictures of The Girls online, but…  I look at it like this: if some guy wants to pony up $50 to see a picture of my nekkid boobies, then more power to him. Give the cash to a good cause and enjoy the view. It’s just skin. At the end of the day, I still have my boobies. Thousands of men and women aren’t so lucky.

I’m photo editing this year, which is always… interesting. Sometimes, you see the survivors’ pictures with their scary scars and heart breaking stories, sometimes you see what can’t possibly be god given, and sometimes, you see normal, boring everyday boobies. This isn’t about sex, or indecent exposure, or soft core pr0n, or whatever other label you want to slap on it.

This is about breast cancer.

We just chosen to package our fundraising efforts a little differently.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

The one where I piss off my only reader because I’ve annoyed myself with the vagueness…

ryan montbleau band :: nectar’s mv, martha’s vineyard amity island ::august 20, 2011

So, a few weeks ago, there was an encounter with a person which left me feeling kind of… scrambled?

This person… it’s weird. They make me feel vulnerable. They make me WANT to feel vulnerable.

It’s not like I expect them to come swooping in on a big white stallion and save me. Shit, I don’t WANT to be saved… it’s like I just want to lay my soul bare and let what will happen, happen.

They helped me (without even knowing it) open a set of floodgates that should have never been opened. Two separate conversations had two very different effects on me, which is odd, because in the end, the result is the same. I’m a big girl, and I know what will happen if I don’t close those floodgates, but I don’t want to. I want to follow this through to the end, instead of chickening out like I always seem to when it comes to… well, That Thing.

I don’t know if I should thank them or kick them in the shins. 

I guess we’ll have to see what happens… but I know that when I see them again, if their face lights up the way it has on occasion, they’ll be forgiven for whatever they started.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Highest highs and lowest lows…

mike, michael, peter :: great woods, mansfield, ma :: june 13, 2008

Let’s start with the low so that I can end this entry on a high note:
R.E.M. says goodbye.

I don’t even know what to say about that… For 31 years, R.E.M. has provided the soundtrack to my life. If you put it in perspective, R.E.M. has been in my life longer than either one of my parents. Even if you discount the early days, before I was a die hard fan, that’s still 23 years. Three years shy of how long my father had been in my life. “Green” (1988) was definitely the album that made me declare my fandom. Before that I didn’t even know such a thing existed.

Chronic Town, Murmur, Reckoning, Fables, Pageant, Document, Green, Out of Time, Automatic, Monster, Hi-Fi, Up, Reveal, Around the Sun, Accelerate, Collapse…  Ask me, and I can name at least one song from each that i’d classify as a favorite. Press me harder, and I can tell you exactly what songs were playing at very definitive life-changing moments.

I completely applaud their decision to do it their way but it doesn’t change the fact that there is a huge void in my musical life now…

(And yes, I know, we broke up. That doesn’t change a damn thing.)

Now for the high note:
I had said a while back that I had let someone read a short story of mine, and that I was terrified of their reaction.

I am a silly, silly, little bunny.

It was wonderful!  You use such great language and it flows so well.  The dialogue was so good I started to tear up a little at parts but don’t tell anybody that!  (Oh crap, I just told people that! Oh well. No one knows who actually got a chance to read it.) You shouldn’t be shy about your writing, you have a strong voice and you should be proud of that.

Seeing how that person was an English major, I’m taking that as very high praise.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

If I hadn’t lost your number, I’d call you on the telephone

orion and rollz :: lucky dog, worcester, ma :: march 31, 2010

I just survived a week of meetings with our CFO from China. I can’t even begin to tell you how proud of myself I am.

Why?

Because I’ve been running on adrenaline since NOVEMBER. I had a small break and then all hell broke loose in March and it didn’t really let up. I don’t suppose I need to tell you how unhealthy that is.

I broke down in tears on Monday, several times. I’ve never been so happy to have my own office. Although, that didn’t stop the Boy Wonder from catching me in the act. I pulled a D - “I’m not here. You’re not seeing this. This isn’t really happening.” - but, you know, the damage was already done. Nothing like bawling in front of your boss. That would be bad on a good day. It’s worse when the bipolar is common knowledge. It bothered me to see him so scared. People never know how to react…

I wasn’t able to mourn my father appropriately on the 10th anniversary of his death, and this Monday is his birthday. I’ve finally hit the wall. There is no more adrenaline left. There is only depression and tears.

Hitting rock bottom, finally having the nervous breakdown I kept joking about, during what is possibly the worst week ever to do that, was a lot of fun.

I wish I knew how I kept my shit together long enough to make it through Friday afternoon. 

As a result of the week from hell, I chose to skip out on Matthew Ebel’s VIP beer bash today. I was going to go into work this weekend and try to catch up. I decided against that as well. Instead, I’m still in my pjs, reading the most exciting textbooks known to man.

Sitting at home, wallowing, distracting myself with homework, just seems like the right thing to do.

I wasn’t going to go to last night’s Black Mountain Symphony show. I was going to go home and collapse. Let the loss, the stress, whatever, just take over and get it out of my system.

I was actually planning (hoping?) to cry all night… I had sad movies picked out, sad music, whatever it would take, so I could get ‘better’ and head out today.  But, when I got in my car and left work, it decided to ignore me and drive me to Shelburne Falls, MA.

It was a low-key show in a coffee house. I had RSVP’d no because I had other plans for this weekend, and once I got there, I had kind of hoped to just sit in a dark corner somewhere and hide. Get what I needed from the music and go home. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to socialize… but the coffee shop was tiny and there was no hiding.

There are the stupid little moments that don’t mean anything to anyone, but that completely rocked my world. Things said in passing, faces lighting up when they saw me, hugs, promises to see each other again, being begged to go to Pearl-a-palooza next weekend… Besides getting what I needed from the music, I got what I didn’t even know I needed from the band.

Yeah… I’m not even going to go there. You know how I get about them.

During the drive back from the show, it hit me. My dad always wanted me to go to grad school, I’m getting my Master’s and school starts on his birthday. I couldn’t have planned that shit if I tried…

I think tomorrow I’m going to get up early and try to get breakfast at the Goldenrod (I hope they’re still open for the season). There is definitely a trip to the Nubble on deck no matter how terrible I feel.

I will survive this because I can… but for now, I just need to let it beat me. Restore the natural order to my life. Reset my brain.

There are somethings that meds just can’t do.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Holy Fucking Shit Day, ten years later…

fun with black mountain symphony :: september 4, 2011

Does anyone else remember that label or was it particular to a group of bloggers I used to read?

Whatever.

Ten years later, it’s still a very appropriate sentiment.

Like the Challenger disaster of 1986, I can remember exactly where I was and what I was doing.

I don’t really want to focus on that today…

I’d rather focus on the great time I had last night, or the great time I had last weekend, or really any great time I’ve had in the past ten years.

Last night - big surprise - I went to see Black Mountain Symphony. It’s going to be the last time for a while - I’m starting classes, the restaurant is prepping to open - life is getting in the way of my having a life. Boo!

It was a quiet night (for me). I hung out with Alex, Robyn and Toni (aka the girlfriends). We made fun of the bachelorette party. We made fun of the drunk people determined to bump and grind no matter what the song was.

I sat back and just let the music wash over me. Feeling all my stress wash away… if only for a few hours. As always, I don’t think the band knows how much I appreciate the therapy. It was a long drive to Manchester, VT. Just as long as the trip to Albany, but I needed those six hours in the car to clear my head. There is a reason I do this to myself.

I look at this exchange on Facebook and it just makes me warm and fuzzy. Forgive me if I choose to focus on this today instead of what happened on that terrible day ten years ago. 

I dwell on enough of the bad that has filled my life. I don’t need to dwell on the significance of this day.  I know what today is, I know what happened, and I know I will never forget.