Redefinition

matty gilroy :: rangers at bruins, boston, ma :: january 9 2010

So.

Yesterday, I turned *cough* 35 *cough*. I have now been alive one year longer than my mother was in my life. Pardon my french, but that is some fucked up shit. It was not as hard to accept as I thought it would be, though. Then again, I was pretty good with last year.

I guess this is growing up.

Last night, I had some friends up so that we could make fun of sparkly vampires, drool over werewolves, and generally have some fun. There were birthday spanks (dude, I BRUISED!), and penises drawn on the whiteboard. There were plenty of hijinks, snarfing, and midget porn… basically, just another night with this crew.  My guests stayed overnight and this morning, we had “overnight” waffles and MEAT. Is it inappropriate for this forum if I say my husband provided the meat? *snicker*

Because my parents were both alcoholics, I can be rather touchy about the subject of alcohol. In fact, our house is dry. Bone dry. Last night, I lifted the ban and let my friends bring wine. (I KNOW!) My favorite moment was when we were putting the groceries away yesterday morning, and the Wonder Hubby turned to me and asked me if we should leave room for beer.

Sur-freaking-real.

To further make me wonder what the hell happened to me… I begged and pleaded and dropped several THOUSAND hints about getting a Gilroy jersey for my birthday. Normally, I’m a little bit skittish about getting too hooked on a particular player. The year I graduated high school,  I got an Andy Moog Bruins jersey for my birthday. Andy was traded to Dallas right around graduation day. I only wore it to one Bruins game - his first game back in Boston after the trade. Since then, I’ve kind of gotten over being a fan of a particular NHL player since they get traded so frequently. Then, Matty Gilroy happened. Four amazing years at BU, Hobey Baker, the National Championship… he stole my heart. Big. Time. There’ve been a lot of players in my life - those I’ve known personally, those I’ve cheered for at BU, those guys in the spoked B - but none I’ve loved like I loved Andy Moog. Until Matty. With Matty’s move to the Rangers, I found myself caring less and less for the Bruins. A team I have loved my ENTIRE life. Just like that.

I didn’t think this was possible, but I love that Gilroy jersey even more than I loved my Moog jersey.

Some other stuff has happened, too, that recently made me wonder why I’ve made certain things priorities. Apparently, there were some drunken texts and a half-assed apology during that conversation. I love the fact that person A stood up for me, and I love the fact that person B half-assed apologized, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m questioning why I’ve done so much for someone only to get continually crapped on. Well, I’m still keeping him a priority, but   things are going to be a little different from here on out. If they don’t like it… well…

I think a lot of this is not only a natural progression, but also directly related to the new job.

I’ve had a hard time, both here in Ohio, finding jobs that fit me particularly well. Matter of fact, I’ve had a new job just about every year since I’ve moved back to New England. I’ve been hoping that the next job is the last one, and I think we all know how my last “perfect” job went. All I’m going to say about that is when I threatened to leave during a conversation with the owner of the company, he didn’t take me seriously. I’m not sure how you can totally misread, “If this is the way it’s going to be, then I can’t work here anymore.” But, he did. Oh well. His loss.

In a lot of different ways, I’m thinking this new job may actually be the one the sticks. The main group I work with have personalities that mesh well with mine. The main company I work for is fascinating - both in terms of the industry, and in terms of what happened in the bookkeeper’s position. There have been no less than six different sets of hands in the books in two years. Four of those sets of hands had been trying to detangle the work of two sets. I have no proof - only rumors - and what I’ve seen in the books is… kind of interesting. I’ll let you draw your own conclusions as to what happened.

Eventually, I’ll be doing the books for three other companies all under the same corporate umbrella. I’m a little afraid of taking them on - the main company is a freaking mess (see above) and I’ve been working some sick hours. There’s more than enough work to keep me busy, to keep me entertained, to keep me happy.  I guess that’s what matters. Every day is a challenge, some days more challenging than others, but it’s not a straight bookkeeping job.

I think that finding this job is the last piece of the puzzle… the final step in redefining who I am.

Or at least who I am today.

It really is the little things (*snicker*)

boomer and matty :: agganis arena, boston, ma :: march 7 2008

I’m in a bit of a reflective place this weekend. Some really bad crap went down last week. None of it affected me directly, but it affected some of my friends in major ways. It’s not my place to say what happened, because I don’t really know, and it’s not my story to tell, but it was bad. Really bad. It caused a few of them to think about their lives, and like a snowball, it got me thinking about mine.

I had a conversation a few months ago with the brother of one of my best friends. I thought about him yesterday when I pulled on my new favorite shirt. On the front of it it says “the journey is the destination”. I used to focus on the end goal - where I wanted to be in five, ten, twenty years. I still do, but it’s been offset with the urge to live every day like it’s my last. My father’s final lesson, taught on the day he died: Life is too fucking short. Live it while you can. (And yes, my father would have dropped the f-bomb.) So, I’m learning how to enjoy the journey even though it’s taken me places I never would have expected. It’s not all bad… there are a lot of perks to just letting go and following your bliss.

Like this text message I received at 4AM: K thanks again 4 coming. Love u guys.

Sometimes, I find it odd that the things that bring me the most joy are the simple, stupid things…

I guess this is growing up

derek :: toad’s place, new haven, ct :: january 15, 2010

There is a person in my circle of friends whom I’m not particularly close to, but I find fascinating.

I’m not the only one - during an afternoon out a few weeks ago, someone noticed the same things I did. They were much more charitable in their assessment of this person than I have been in the past. To be honest, I’ve gotten in trouble several times for my views of this person. I don’t understand why there has to be this rift between us, but it’s been there since day one and I used to let it bother me. A lot.

After what I saw a while back, I don’t feel the snark rising the way it used to when they walked into the room. Granted, they’re still fun to make fun of, but lately most of it’s tempered with an overwhelming sense of pity. Their interactions with other people border on needy, fake, forced… even when they’re with their friends and family they don’t look natural. They just look spectacularly fake. It’s like they’re trying to be real, to be normal, but they only come across looking even more fake. It’s a sad, sad, vicious cycle.

I’m completely awkward in social situations. I know this. Even in groups of friends, I can feel like the odd man out. To my knowledge, though, I never been anyone but myself. I don’t try to force myself to fit in. I’ve worked too hard to be comfortable as myself, to accept all my quirks, the good, the bad, and the ugly.

I blew myself away with the ability to feel pity for this person.

I never, ever, ever, in a zillion years thought I’d ever feel that way.

When the heck did I become a growed up?

It’s all in the groove…

ben :: bleachers, bristol, ct :: january 31, 2010

My friend, Mikey, posted this entry about music and it got me thinking.

I can’t imagine my life without music. In any way, shape, or form. I really prefer live music and the indie scene (especially when I know the people in the bands (duh!)), but I’ll take whatever I can get my hands on.

...a perfect circle of acquaintances and friends… (R.E.M. - Perfect Circle)

I had a really odd conversation in the bar last night after instrument’s show. It left me feeling kind of hurt and confused, but then I talked to someone else who reminded me who the source was, to brush it off, and that I WAS welcome to hang out with them no matter what. It felt good to talk to him - we traded crazy family stories and bonded. Again. We don’t hang out a lot, but we seem to be starting to. Must be our mutual love of that non-sport. *grin*

...I remember hockey games played right here in my state… (The Zambonis - Bob Marley and the Hartford Whalers)

Maybe it seems odd that I travel all over creation to see instrument. Maybe it seems odd that I head to Hartford every time All Crazy’s in town. Maybe it’s even odder still that I want to road trip up to Albany to see Black Mountain Symphony again. I don’t really care what anyone thinks. It’s what makes me happy.

...and I don’t know why I am smiling, but I’ll have you know it feels so good… (Black Mountain Symphony - Winter Nights)

I spend a lot of time in my car. Too much. In fact, I’ve put more miles on the Forester in two years than I put on the Jetta I drove for five years. That’s a lot of driving. I mean, who puts close to 50,000 miles on a car in a little over two years? Yeah. But I wouldn’t change it for the world. Seeing these bands means everything to me.

...pedal to the floor, speeding down the highway… (All Crazy - Not Over)

The soundtrack to my life has always been R.E.M. and while I don’t see that changing any time soon, I am happy that I’m discovering new indie music and even branching out to commercial artists I would have written off earlier. I’m blaming mashups and iTunes. 99 cents for a song is just awesome, especially when I don’t want to commit to a whole album. Honestly, I can’t ever imagine wanting an entire Justin Timberlake album, but I am all about bringing “SexyBack” (and porchmonkey, but that’s completely different).

...I’ll let you whip me if I misbehave. It’s just that no one makes me feel this way… (Justin Timberlake - SexyBack)

I grew up surrounded by music. My dad liked Anne Murray, Fleetwood Mac, The Kingston Trio and Abba. When my mother got drunk, it was “The Battle of The Green Berets” on repeat. I had access to their 45s and LPs. I must have worn out a dozen albums - I was in a HUGE Beatles phase back then (before Manson forever ruined the White Album for me. *sigh*) and my mother had every.single. one. I had my own collection, of course - most of them Hall and Oates. I think I will always crush on Daryl Hall - no matter how old either of us gets. And don’t get me started on visiting my aunt. Her house was like winning the musical lottery. Mott the Hoople, Alice Cooper, Led Zeppelin, Frank Zappa, Bowie, the Stones, The Who and if they weren’t blasting an album, WCCC was always on in the background. I don’t know how many hours I spent in front of their stereo system, patiently recording the LPs on to cassettes. Even now, listening to the pop and hiss on my worn out copy of Led Zep 3…

... I get the tingles in a silly place. It starts in my toes, and I crinkle my nose… (Colbie Caillat - Bubbly)

There’s a lot of music that’s really important to me. Reminders of moments, of people, that I don’t want to forget. When I hear that particular song - or album - I’m right back in that moment. I can remember it crystal clear. Music can evoke emotions I thought I wasn’t capable of reliving. That I didn’t want to relive. I can say without a doubt, though, that the one album in my collection that I will never be able to part with is my copy of The Pogues’ “Rum Sodomy and the Lash”. Pelkey had given it to me because he thought I’d love it. I did. I think he only meant to loan it to me, but I never gave it back to him. (I’m such a terrible friend!) Whenever I listen to it, I can vividly picture him in the hallway of Belden, cake on his freshly shaven head, joking that he ruined Christmas. God, I miss him. He was one of the sweetest people I have ever crossed paths with.

...at the gravesite of Cuchulainn, we’ll kneel around and pray… (The Pogues - The Sick Bed of Cuchulainn)

If I had the choice of going blind or losing my hearing, I’d rather go blind. Not being able to hear music ever again would probably make me suicidal. It’s that important to me. I’ve learned a lot about myself through the music I listen to. It sounds funny, but it’s true, and I never want to give that up. (Yes, I’m completely aware of the irony that I’m ruining my hearing by going to live shows whenever I can. Shush, you!)

...but when I hear the music, all my troubles just fade away… (Poison - Let it Play)

Yet, I married my complete opposite when it comes to music. He’s not a huge music fan. I like to annoy him by playing “Name That Tune”. Normally, I can name a song, album and artist (and in some cases, the year) within the first few notes. He has a hard time recognizing Dylan, Pink Floyd and Zeppelin. I’ve noticed, though, that his iPod is slowly getting filled with some of my more favorite music. Some of my CDs have disappeared in his car, never to be seen again. I’m willing to cut him a certain amount of slack for not being as into music music as I am, since he gives me the freedom I need to go travel to show after show, but not too much. *grin* I mean, the man has trouble naming classic tunes and can’t tell one band from another! *sigh*

It’s a good thing he’s cute.

...I count your eyelashes secretly. With every one, whisper I love you… (R.E.M. - At My Most Beautiful)

Holy freaking crap, Batman!

dave :: jillian’s, albany, ny :: january 23 2010

Wow.

My new job is kicking my ass.

Like my last job, I knew that I was walking into. Unlike my last job, people actually want to work with me to fix what’s wrong rather than fight me every. single. step. of the way. That’s not the only difference, but it’s the most important one.

The only problem with the new job (if you want to call it that), is that there’s some very concrete time limits as to when things need to be done. And they were all due YESTERDAY. This is due to a lot of internal problems that had *just* come to light the Friday before I started…That timing is totally coincidental and really freaks me out, but I’m cool with it. I actually like being in a real office again, where people talk to each other like grown-ups are supposed to. We all definitely have our potty mouths, some louder than others (not mine for a change), but at least it’s not all day every day, at ridiculously loud volumes and in wicked aggressive conversations.

What I’m struggling with - kind of - is the fact that I’m living in the office right now. 7 AM - 7 PM. Every day. Plus, I worked last Saturday and will be in the office again this weekend. I’m taking off “early” tomorrow night and Saturday night, so that I can have a little fun. Right now it’s definitely all work and no play makes Tam very happy and VERY stressed out. I’m enjoying the non-stop working because it kind of reminds me of being in school and it’s helping me become more disciplined. I’ve been sorely lacking in the discipline department since I finished school.

The most interesting change is how disconnected I’ve become. I’m hardly ever online any more - no Twitter, no Facebook, no email and no blogging. It’s been weird. Very weird. But at the same time, it’s become an important change. I didn’t realize how much I “needed” to be online until I had to go cold turkey. It’s the little things. I’ve stopped bringing the laptop up to the bedroom, I’m reading a little on those rare nights when I’m not ready to fall asleep, and I’m actually starting to wake up earlier. There’s a few more changes I want to make in my life, but I’m cool with making slow progress. It’s weird to think a job can change my life so drastically, but in a lot of little ways. Does that make sense? Is that even English?

Any hoo, I’m off to bed. (Yes. At 9PM.) Play nice, kids. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get the day job under control quickly so I can have some semblance of my old life back.