both eyes open, still movin’ blindly


December 04, 2009 :: 1:51 AM

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dave :: instrument at the main pub, manchester, ct :: november 7, 2009

There’s a song on the rough mix CD that Skinny gave me…  they tried it out at one of their shows and Soup put it to a vote. We all voted against it, choosing “Booty Beach” as the winner that night. At any rate, Soup raps at the end of this song and the words just got into my head. (Hundred miles an hour, goin’ nowhere fast…) I’m still not a fan of the rest of the song because anything that references dying fathers is definitely a permanent fixture on my do NOT play list, but that rap at the end, it just speaks to me. I’ve found myself reciting it more than once recently.

The BU hockey team is struggling. I wish that this year’s captains were able to bottle up what ever last year’s captains did and use it. It looks like they’re trying to, but time will tell if they’re successful. In the meantime, it’s hard to watch. Hockey East is completely screwed up this year. Even the national polls are a little messed up. It’s a very odd time to be a BU fan - rebuilding years suck. But, we’ve been building relationships with our sectionmates, so it’s been a good year for that. It’s nice when you get to commiserate with someone who understands what you’re feeling. So many of my friends aren’t hockey fans, and if they are, they’re NHL hockey fans. It’s a completely different (dare I say worse?) product than college hockey now. College hockey is so much better on a thousand levels. Mostly because these kids still play like there’s something “real” on the line, because they love the game, because - with the exception of the ban on fighting - the game is still what I consider “pure”. It hasn’t been commercialized and the rule books haven’t been rewritten to make a consumer-friendly product.

I finally finished a birthday present that was supposed to be completed in September. Now that the recipient has it, I guess I can spill why it took so long. There was a comment a while back about how she liked this band, so I made the decision to make her a mega mix. I have what feels like a gazillion songs - bootlegs, commercial recordings, rarities, etc. - and to go through all of them and find the “perfect” version of each one, to try to balance them all out, to try and stay away from the commercially available versions,  without repeating songs just because I liked the “then and now” aspect, that was so freaking hard. I didn’t know just how mentally taxing… I must have put together a thousand different versions. I’d pretty much been working on it since August, but it was *so* hard.  I did repeat one, though. As much as I like the original version of that song, there’s a reference to Jefferson Holt that has since been removed, so I also added the revised version. At least I didn’t screw up and put them on the same disc. The mix ended up spanning four discs, and I could have done two more. There were also three other mixes - two mashups and one with some of my favorite singer/songwriters. Those, in a way, were a little harder. My taste in music has become a little more melancholy as of late, so there were some lyrics and song titles that I felt a little uncomfortable sharing. Too soul baring, in a way. Five months for seven mixes… I think that’s a new record of being all OCD about making the perfect mix. Oh well. At least I finished them before Christmas!

Last night was my friend’s holiday party. I’d been on the fence about going because I feel like complete crap. I still do, but I was heavily medicated last night. I’m so glad we put the dogs in the kennel so the hubby could come play with me. It was great fun and for a while, the weight of the world was off my shoulders.  So much I could say about last night - so many misheard things, so many random shout-outs, a wicked embarrassing story involving Bubble Tea was told - complete with verbatim quotes from the event!, Pony - but the thing I’ll always remember is that out of the five of us who obsessively tweet, not a single one of us tweeted last night. Not. A. Single. Tweet. Every since texting and Twitter came into our lives, I don’t think I’ve ever been as present in the moment as I was last night. Yeah, there were “OMG! I HAVE to tweet this moments!”, but those were filed away to be written about later. 

We were ORDERED to go to a New Year’s Eve party with the same group of friends, and I don’t think I’ve looked forward to NYE as much as I am this year. Slowly but surely, I’m gaining control over my life again. Still not getting the closure I need in some areas, others are getting better more quickly than I thought they would, and The Big Thing that’s really been weighing me down is still weighing me down, but I’ve grown used to the weight. Not happy with the ripples its causing in my life, but there’s nothing that can be done about it, so I’m just waiting it out.

Life goes on, whether we want it to or not, right?  This pain is just a price we pay for the privilege of waking up every morning…

 

Oh. My. God. IT’S OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!


November 29, 2009 :: 8:44 PM

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self-explanatory, eh? :: 50,591 words

I can’t believe that I did it (again).

Not only did I survive it, I finished early. EARLY!

<.insert evil laugh>

That’s three years I’ve done this. Two in a freaking row.

As if ya’ll ever needed more proof that I was insane…

It’s Thanksgiving in the US, so…


November 26, 2009 :: 10:48 AM

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johnny curry makes the save :: pens @ wolfpack, hartford, ct :: november 19, 2009

It dawned on me that despite the constant stream of ick, I’ve actually had a lot to be thankful for.

Last night, I made beef fondue. My mother’s way - london broil cut up into cubes and then dunked into boiling peanut oil until cooked. It can’t be the healthiest thing, but I hardly eat it, so it was a nice treat. While I was eating, I was reflecting on some conversations I’d had about my father recently. It sounds weird, cold, whatever, but I’m thankful they’re gone and that I’m distanced from 99% of my blood relatives. The past seventeen years have been a completely messed up ride, but in their passings, each gave me so much. My mother flat out lied in her will - to my daughter, whom I gave everything in life, I leave nothing in death - and it’s funny that she made a point to spell that out. Her death was freeing, it tightened up my relationship with my father and it ultimately ended up being the straw that broke the camel’s back, destroying my tenuous connection with my blood relatives once and for all. I don’t need people I’m related to only by blood causing me drama. Especially when they had shown very little interest in me when my parents were alive…

I know who my friends are and I know which ones are my family. For those guys I’m wicked thankful. Matter of fact, I’m thankful for a lot this year.

- My favorite platypus who always has a hug at the ready.

- My favorite bulldozer for helping me break into the social circles I’m traveling in.

- My old friends who are still around and those I consider my family. Especially the first person I considered a sister and my little brother.

- My skiing buddies… although we may be down a man, we will always have Pony and the memories of riding on the moving carpet.  Looking forward to this year’s adventures!

-  The boys in the bands—Soup and Skinny for always making me feel awesome at their shows and for sneaking me some of the rough mixes of the new album. All the guys in instrument for letting me

smother them

help them out and especially D for that parking lot talk after the Webster show. For whatever reason, it was exactly what I wanted to hear, what I needed to hear. It couldn’t have come at a better time.

- My furbabies for the unconditional love and support they’ve given me. There’s nothing better than puppy kisses. Nothing.

- Hockey—The BU hockey program for reigniting my all-consuming love of hockey and for winning the National Championship. I know we won’t repeat and this season is going to be a long, painful one, but I look forward to getting out and seeing the games. The Rangers for signing Matty Gilroy and being close enough so that we can watch a majority of the games. The Wolfpack for hosting the Baby Pens and allowing me to reconnect with Hockey Girl.

- While I’m on the topic, I’m thankful for having Hockey Girl in my life. Who else would understand that NEED to get the cable stations working in time for the big games? Who else would understand me when I ask them if they want a teddy bear? Who else just “gets” me? Here’s to running around the woods!

- I’m thankful to have a job. As trying as it is to work with Mom and Dad most days, Fig definitely makes it better. I look forward to his bits of wisdom and the jokes he cracks. I think I’ve learned more about him than I’ve wanted to, but he’s just too cute. This job really suits me and I knew going in it was going to suck. I just had it sucking for the wrong reasons. Slowly but surely, we’re getting it to suck less. It’s always been a matter of time, a function of the learning curve, a function of the new world I’ve entered.

- I’m thankful for my knitting girls. No one makes me laugh the way they do.

- And finally, I’m thankful for the Wonder Hubby. I love that we don’t have a “conventional” relationship and that he survived my hitting rock bottom in such a spectacular fashion. I love that we crack the same jokes at the same time. That we order our food in the same boring ways. Even the fact that we tend to wear the same outfits on the same day. He is definitely my other half. (I’m the better half, LOL). It’s been eleven years since we met and we’ve been married seven. We joke about getting divorced all the time, but I know I can’t live without him. I’m pretty sure he feels the same.

Coffee house and parking lot conversations


November 20, 2009 :: 9:49 PM

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john curry makes the save (no, really) :: pens @ wolfpack, hartford, ct :: november 19, 2009

This post has been brewing in the background since a chat at a Dunkin’ Donuts got the idea percolating. (HA!) I just haven’t been sure where the line between real life & interweb life should be drawn. I never used to censor myself but this is a highly publicized blog and some highly personal/private stuff, so I’m going to be super vague. Sorry!

Anyhoo, a few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to catch up with some old friends. Like elementary school friends. There were some things said that were interesting, but it took the general mindset of “I’m not ready to go home / I never see you / where the hell is there a 24 hour Dunkin’ Donuts?!” to really drive some things home. Sitting in the DD, my oldest and bestest friend EVAR was telling me how she doesn’t have any drama in her life. I completely (unfairly?) unloaded on her. Oh yeah. Can you say I have drama? There’s a lot of stuff going on and I’m not sure why the hell my personal life is shitting the bed the way it has been lately. It seems like I’m just struggling to deal with people and the impact (or lack thereof) they’re all having on my life.

It’s pretty weird to be me right now… I’ve always been the uber-introvert and having a small number of friends has been perfect. Suddenly, I have a large circle of friends and it’s just, well, shitting the bed is pretty descriptive.  I’m not saying that as a complaint. I’ve worked hard to get comfortable in larger groups of people and I do enjoy their company, but for every two decent people I let in, it seems that an asshole will sneak in. I blame the interwebs because I’m on so many different radar screens now because of the blog, Twitter, Facebook, social circles… It’s just not a good place for me. I’m toying with privacy measures, defriending / blocking people, but it just seems so mean. (Me. Worried about being mean. I know! STOP LAUGHING!)

There was one sentence that just stuck in my craw. “They’re just jealous of [x].” Seriously, that particular thing ain’t worth being jealous of. It’s not something I set out to do. It’s not something that I’m trying to rub in people’s faces. It’s just the way it is. All things considered? I probably would have chosen a much different direction when faced with the whole “Do I? Don’t I?” thing. Of course, life would have been different… but sometimes I wonder if it would have been better. I would love to have my cake and eat it, too but nope. I made my choice and I’ve stuck by it ever since.  (I know there are a lot of you who THINK you know what [x] is. Trust me, ya’ll are wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrongity, wrong, wrong, WRONG.)

I’d been puzzling over my NaNoWriMo at that point, too. I knew where I wanted to go with the story. I just wasn’t sure how… art was imitating life which was imitating art, and it was just beyond weird. My male main character has been a pain since the pre-NaNo brainstorms. He just isn’t playing nice and I’m still trying to decide how to send him to the Sporky Pit of Death.  While he and I were arguing the finer points of accidental vs unplanned pregnancies (I prefer “unplanned” for a variety of reasons), why being on the road all the time wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, and why soulmates were a sh’load more trouble than they are worth, he said something that stuck in my craw as well.  He said, “You’re thinking too much about it. She and I, we just don’t know how to be friends anymore. But. I’m not letting her go.”  (Yes, my overactive imagination often leads me to having conversations with my NaNo characters during quiet times.) It’s helped me rewrite a particularly icky bit, but he needs to let her go, or he’s getting abducted by aliens or something. I’m running out of time and I don’t want him horking up the plot anymore.

So… I’ve had this, this, STUFF in my head and I wasn’t sure what to do with it. Situation [x] is not something that can be shared with just anyone, so it just sits there but at least, now I have a way to frame a particularly hard “break-up” I’m going through - we just don’t know how to be friends anymore. We just can’t give each other what the other needs… some things are unforgivable. Some things you just can’t get past no matter how much you try to fool yourself.

Fast forward to last night.

I journeyed into Hartford - for a hockey game this time. Former BU players, John Curry and Brian (Can’t Stand Up) Strait are playing for the Baby Pens and this was their only trip up to Hartford.  I ended up going with a girl I knew in high school. We weren’t really friends, but we knew each other. We’ve (re?)connected via Facebook because we’re complete hockey nuts. Now that I’ve changed loyalties (yes, I’m a Rangers fan now… at least for as long as Matty’s there), we have a little more in common. Heading down for the game though, I really thought hockey was the only thing we had in common.

I. Was. So. Wrong.

I had made the comment a while back about how sometimes you have no idea what your friends’ boundaries are, but you can pick up on a complete stranger’s…Granted, she’s not a complete stranger to me, but it’s not like we were friends on a level that would kind of give me an idea of where her boundaries are - especially after the time that has passed since I last saw her in person.

Holy crap. For me, everything was just effortless. That doesn’t happen that often in my life. I’m not good with “new” people.

We shared. We overshared. We bonded on a level that I didn’t think I was capable of… We share some pretty intense experiences and have the same opinions about them. She and I, we exist in a whole world that other people don’t understand. It’s really a “you need to experience it” thing. We’ve been there.  We were talking about how [y] attracts [y] and that how, even when we have friends that say they ‘get’ us, we know they don’t. They just can’t. They’re not wired for it. For me, it was an unexpected Good Thing. I’m looking forward to future chats and hockey games.

I had a long drive home, made longer by freaking construction, and plenty of time to think about everything that’s been in my head for the past few weeks in addition to what had happened at the game.

While I’m not even at 50% closure on so many of the things that have been bothering me, I feel better about how things are going to work out.

Some times, the universe gives you what you need just when you really need it the most.

Thank you, vets


November 11, 2009 :: 1:40 PM

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dad’s dog tag

I found my father’s dog tag about a year ago when we were giving the house a good top-to-bottom cleaning. I hardly ever take it off.

I don’t quite remember when I received it but at that point, I had no interest in wearing it - I just wanted it because it was his.

Because he went to Vietnam and survived.

I know there aren’t a lot of people who can say that.

I think about that a lot… especially now that this little piece of metal sits next to my skin every day.

I don’t need the calendar to tell me to thank those that are willing to give or have given their lives to protect me. On a day like today, the outpouring of support is touching, but it’s fleeting… and it’s just a shame that not ALL the vets get recognized.

I always take it hard when I find out that good friends are suicidal / have actually succeeded in their attempts. Some affect me more than others…

Five years ago, on November 5th, my friend, Pelkey, put a bullet in his chest. I think he has a right to be recognized for his efforts as a member of the military and to be declared a casualty of war. I’m not alone—his wife has been working tirelessly to get vets with PTSD the help they so badly need, the help that Pelkey couldn’t get in time.

From the Iraq War Heroes website (emphasis mine): Mrs. Pelkey’s husband, Captain Michael Jon Pelkey, died on November 5, 2004 from a self-inflicted gun shot wound to the chest after being diagnosed with PTSD. Pelkey wants to tell her story to help the many soldiers who are suffering from this disorder, and to request that her husband be declared a casualty of war… “I don’t want my Michael to have died in vain. He had a purpose in this life and that was to watch over his soldiers. I intend to keep helping him do so by spreading our story. My husband died of wounds sustained in battle. That is the bottom line. The war does not end when they come home.”

So thank the living vets and casualties of wars all you want, I will too… but don’t forget those that suffer / suffered from PTSD. They deserve to be recognized for their service to this country, too.

 

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