music is life

I never thought that I could be who I am

December 16, 2021 :: 10:11 PM

this. fucking. show.

Spending Christmas with Matt Nathanson again (a week early). His raunchy Christmas carols are everything. Having access to the Christmas livestreams until the 19th is not going to be long enough. (Seriously, his live shows are awesome… He is absolutely hilarious.)

Probably not a surprise, but I haven’t been training for Dopey like I should be. Because I’m a fucking idiot and 2020/2021 wiped away all interest in doing anything. I even struggled with Racery events…

I had signed up for a 10K/Half combo up in West Palm Beach for last weekend, and I only completed the 10K.

I kept a strong 16:30mm pace and still had enough energy at the end to keep going, so that was really good.

I didn’t even bother going to the half… because of George.

George is the massively nasty, never healing, blister on my right foot. He lives on the ball of my foot right under my big toe. He showed up during Wine and Dine, I took time off to let him heal. He came back for the Turkey Trot… and he came back for the Palm Beaches 10K. With Dopey literally right around the corner, I wasn’t going to deal with him during a 13 mile walk.

I had moved from Hoka Arahi 3s to the Arahi 4 and it made me miserable. There was something weird about the 4s… I don’t know what Hoka changed, but YUCK! I had a decent coupon and tried Brooks Ghosts. Despite being highly recommended, they sucked for me. They didn’t even make it onto the treadmill, but they’re perfect to wear to work. Then, I did more research and decided on the Asics Gel Nimbus. I loved them so much during several Racery events, I bought two pairs.

Only to discover that they’re the reason for the blisters. On a treadmill, they’re fine. Absolutely no problems what so ever. But when it comes to the road, it’s a different story. Stability. Cushioning. Blah, blah, blah… all things that I had researched and thought I got right.

So, now I run in Brooks Glycerins and am no longer a member of Ravenclaw. Because, seriously? After all that, I can’t possibly be one of the Smarts any more. Damn. I’m due for a Puffs the Play rewatch because I’ve been quoting it a lot lately.

I’ve got a Dopey simulation coming up this weekend and it was supposed to start tonight. Of course, I have a super bad headache. I was so nervous about my interview this morning that I skipped breakfast altogether. No caffeine. At all. The headache has been so bad that I napped on the couch for a bit earlier. I NEVER NAP. If I didn’t have such a hot date with Matt, I would have skipped the nap and just gone to bed. That’s how bad it is.

(OK. I AM DYING. Matt just looked up Disappear on Spotify because he couldn’t remember the chord it started with. I still think looking for his own lyrics on google was the best, though. Fuck, dude. That show was the last IRL concert we attended. That’s way too long to go without live music.)

(STILL DYING. He’s totally fucking up Bottom of the Sea now… which he also just listened to on Spotify because he couldn’t remember that one, either.)

Short post, but there’s a lot of noise in my head right now and I can’t focus on squat right now. I also have a lot of stuff to talk about, but there’s also a bunch of stuff I don’t want to talk about, either.

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The universe hates me.

June 23, 2021 :: 7:08 PM

How have you hurt me? Let me count the ways…

So… that was randomly fitting. Not amused that it showed up today, though.

Yesterday, I was talking to a coworker about a coworker that left. Former coworker once told me that I wasn’t as tough as I thought I was.

I never told him that the scar between my eyebrows is from a cigarette. I was five or six when my mother chose to use my forehead as an ashtray.

But. Yeah.

Just because I don’t talk about all those “that which doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger” moments, doesn’t mean I don’t have them.

Back to the scar through, because that was the trigger.

Current coworker said that he’d be willing to go back and fix his mistakes. I said I wouldn’t change a fucking thing.

When he asked why, I didn’t really have an answer.

I just wouldn’t.

All the shit I went through - the chance to fix things - to have my father live longer - all of it… nope. Wouldn’t change a goddamn thing.

(Which makes me question my mental health, but that’s nothing new.)

There’s no way I’d trade my scars for better ones

Yeah.

I had this dream last night about my mother. I NEVER dream about her. When I dream about family it’s always my father… and it’s always the nightmare of finding him dead in his apartment.

I can’t even remember all the details, but it was upsetting.

LIKE SUPER UPSETTING.

I am obviously not as tough as I think I am if that dream rocked my world… and not in a good way.

Other than the dad-mares, I’e never woken up crying before.

I was back to being young me, pre-divorce, pre-death…

I’ve been lost and I’ve been sinking / Broken, coming back together / I’ve been stalling, slipping, falling…

Fuck, dude. You have no idea.

She fucking broke me and I relieved some of her greatest hits (yup, I went there) last night.

It took moving out and her dying before I could finally start to heal.

I’ve been lost and I’ve been broken / Finally coming back together

I’ve never been suicidal, but I’ve gone to dark, dangerous, places. She sent me there. Often.

I don’t wanna be afraid of my thoughts / I don’t wanna be scared of my shadow

It’s taken a lot of work to put her behind me… but, of course, I’m not free of her. I doubt I’ll ever be.

The part that I always come back to, the part that I can’t shake, is who my mother was before she became a monster.

She graduated from UConn with a degree in something like Home Ec - child development or some such nonsense.

She was a social worker.

A perfect PTA mom.

Everybody looks for love where it’s not // Everybody wants to know they matter

I don’t think I was ever truly loved.

I don’t think I ever mattered.

The pull of the bottle was stronger than the pull of her only child.

Sooooooooooo…

I’m already in this stupid bad headspace because of the fucking dream and my iPhone decides to play this during my commute.

 

I better dream of fucking puppies and unicorns tonight.

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життя починаеться знов

February 27, 2021 :: 3:10 PM

I may write multiple shitty drafts, but I’ve never written anything this bad.

Soooooooo. A lot has happened in two months.

The one I find most amusing is that I posted my 10 favourite R.E.M. songs on Facebook and somebody caught the fact that both Good Advices and Wendell Gee were on the list.

Somebody’s been paying attention. If you don’t know what the significance is… well, I’m afraid I can’t help you. (Says “Wendell” who blogs at “goodadvices”.com and has an email address of “wendellgee1985”.)

The second one is that we fired and hired a CPA firm on Friday and then hired a new AR person this morning.

I AM SO EXCITED.

I know I’m an asshole, but I am so glad to be letting go of my AR person. I’ve have a problem with her since I started there. Her emails are typically written in redneck and are terribly embarrassing to read. As her boss, it’s HORRIFYING to come across these in my inbox. She’s such a bad reflection on me and my department… and I’ve let my feelings known. She’s also incapable of following instructions and refuses to take responsibility for anything. My number one rule is Own. Your. Shit. and she refuses. So… we’re bringing someone on board who will.

 

- - - - - - - - - - -

There’s so much I do - and don’t - want to talk about that I can’t even find a place to begin or a way to separate the two.

The major thing is: Mitch McConnell is a fucking asshole. But that’s really neither here nor there… it’s not like we didn’t know it.

I don’t know. I’m alive. I’m still working weekends. I’ve gotten better at running more frequently. I’m studying for two major exams. I’m focusing on Ukrainian.

I’m surviving.

I can’t ask for much more than that.

 

 

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Одна

December 08, 2020 :: 8:17 PM

Fun Fact: New Britain, CT is pronounced NOOOOO BRI ’ IN! (Yup.)

Oh, the stories I could tell about the… interesting evenings spent at the Sting nightclub in Noooooooooooo Bri ’ in. Pansy Division, H20, the Bosstones, the Lemonheads, Green Day, Spring Heeled Jack, and BiG MiSTAKE (I think. SHJ/BM could have been Toad’s Place). I don’t know how many shows I saw there, but I know it was a shit ton. It was a cool little club; the Casino at Hampton Beach reminds me of it.

Because work has been too crazy, I haven’t been doing much of anything fun.

BUT.

I did decide to listen a little more actively to my favourite Ukrainian bands. So now I’ll try to write down what I hear and then google translate it to see if I’m right.

Occasionally, things go a wee bit sideways.

Picture it: It’s 7:30 AM, my favourite song comes on and I’ve just pulled into my office’s parking lot. I park in my spot and listen to the music / read the Cyrillic version of the lyrics and try to guess what I’m hearing.

ME: What the fuck? Is he singing about a banana? I mean, the girl’s alone and what girl doesn’t like to be alone with a “banana”... (*snicker*)

LYRICS TRANSLATE: Ha ha! I bet you’re even more confused now: I’m looking back, someone satisfies own tiredness by bananas,

LYRICS TRANSLATE: OH! I have another English translation: I’m looking back, someone with bananas reduces strain

GOOGLE TRANSLATE: You always accuse me of being drunk. Go fuck yourself… with a banana: I look back, someone is banishing fatigue with bananas.

ME: Well, fuck. Google Translate was right. That’s what? One out of elebenty gatrillion lyrics?

ME: Oh, wait. I don’t understand this line at all. Not a damn word.

GOOGLE TRANSLATE: My time to shine, bitches! *clears throat* *cracks knuckles*: AND YOU DON’T EVEN BLOW YOUR MUSTACHE, YOU ARRANGE YOUR LIFE!!!!!!!!!

ME: Go home, Google Translate. You’re drunk.

GOOGLE TRANSLATE: Fuck you. I am not drunk.

LYRICS TRANSLATE: *whispers* And you don’t give a damn, you’re arranging your affairs

GOOGLE TRANSLATE: Fuck both of you. I’m going home.

And here’s the song that brought me so much amusement the other day…. enjoy!

 

Одна
День як день, ніч як ніч.
Ніч як ніч, день як день.

Нарешті, знову ти повертаєшся додому.
Дивлюсь назад, хтось бананами гамує втому, (mmmm… banana)
Хтось щось читає, хтось в метро втикає,
Лиш вона одна біля вікна тебе чекає.

І бачить – ти ходиш поруч тими ж дворами,
Через перехід праворуч, потім біля брами.
Можливо ти зупинишся, поглянеш – третій поверх зліва.
Така дурниця, а вона була б щаслива.

Ні, думаєш, як все дістало, життя замало,
І доля всі надії, сподівання розігнала.
Куди ідеш, що буде далі – питання,
Над якими зараз думати, повір, не варто.

Приспів:
Вона одна, вона одна, сидітиме біля вікна до темна.
Гукатиме тебе й мене, а час мине...
Вона одна, вона одна, є-ее.
Гукатиме тебе й мене, а час мине...

День як день, змінилося все давно.
День у день життя – кольорове кіно.
Ніч як ніч, як сяйво запалених свіч.
День як день, а ніч як ніч.

Вона чекала тільки на тебе, чуєш?
А ти і в вус не дуєш, ти побут свій лаштуєш.(yes, blow that mustache)
Кохаєш свою машину і маєш стиль.
Отримав все, що хотів, доклав зусиль.

Чому ж тоді сумно – її немає поруч,
Як там: брама, другий будинок, потім праворуч?
Сходами летиш, третій поверх зліва,
Невже відчинить, невже буде щаслива?

Невже досягнув ти бажаної мети?
Все нормально: шампанське, квіти.
Ще хвилину стоїш, дзвоник лунає.
Ну хто там? – нікого немає.

Приспів

День як день, липень, листопад, квітень,
За вікном кожен з нас її мішень.
Ніч як ніч, в темряві вогонь світить.
Ніч як ніч, да, день як день.

Мрії прозорі в долонях, чоловічі забобони,
Довести, що ти найкращий, щурячі перегони.
Сіре місто, зранку тісто, ввечорі погони,
Поїзд далі не їде, звільніть, будь ласка, вагони.

В тому річ, що блакитними очима,
Ніч за плечима, дивиться дівчина.
Знає, що настане день, прийде весна,
Зрозумієш, що чекала вона одна.

Можливо буде день, да, прийде весна,
Ти зрозумієш, що чекала вона одна.
Скоро буде день, ага, прийде весна,
Зрозумієш, що чекала...

Thank you, Lyrics Translate!

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As the bombshells of my daily fears explode…

May 30, 2020 :: 6:33 PM

it’s hard to write an AU when everything in canon is basically an AU

A couple of weeks ago, the Indigo Girls performed Rites of Passage in it’s entirely.

OMMFG

That album.

That motherfucking album.

R.E.M. might be the soundtrack of my life, but that album?

That album was my life for several years.

It was so weird to sit and listen to it performed live.

All those memories.

Fuck, man, the 1992 version of me was so fucking young. So fucking raw. So fucking hurt and angry.

And there’s not enough room in this world for my pain.
Signals cross, and love gets lost…

Forget about your ego.
Forget about your pride.
And you will never have to compromise

I left my anger in a river running Highway 5.
New Hampshire, Vermont, bordered by college farms, hubcaps, and falling rocks.
Voices in the woods and the mountaintops.

I’m not ready for the dead to show it’s face…

It’s so weird - that’s the year my mother died, that year was nothing but shitty experience after shitty experience - but this fucking album.

It’s still one of my favourites.

Which is odd considering my relationship with Bowie is much the same as my relationship with this album in it’s own kind of way.

 

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