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.

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.

Really, Universe? REALLY?

Talk about a completely shitty 24 hour span:

Brad McCrimmon who I had crossed paths with when I worked for the Whale died in a plane crash in Russia.

My best friend lost her grandmother.

A friend from college died of an aneurysm.

A friend of a girl whose blog I read has to pull the plug on their significant other.

That’s a lot of fucking death for me to process. Even though those aren’t people I was particularly close to, that’s still a lot to wrap my head around…

Dude. I seriously need a cookie, a hug, and a nap.

God, I love me some Matt Cohen.

matt cohen :: spn boscon, boston, ma :: aug 5 2011

Oh man. I’ve been up for 30 hours and I am FEELIN’ it.

But I wouldn’t change a single thing.

I spent Saturday night, all day Sunday, and a part of this morning with my friends from Albany.

I’m not going to go into too many details here because the juicy stuff belongs in my little journal - and let’s be honest. What’s said while the others are sleeping, or when we were on the back deck, or even when we were in my car, needs to stay in those locations. There was a LOT of over sharing. A metric shit ton.

But those are the experiences life is made of and they’re definitely the memories that you carry with you for the rest of your life.

I will say this much: some one asked me to send him some of my writing and it really made me feel a little uncomfortable. But in a good way. I decided to man up and send him a short story I wrote a long time ago. It’s the ONLY short story I’ve ever written, and probably will remain that way. I don’t know how to write short stories… It’s just not my thing. I went back and reread it and I forgot how painful actually writing the damned thing was. It’s a bit autobiographical - write what you know, right? And it’s from a very bad time in my life. I’m not quite sure what he’ll think of it, and honestly, I’m a little nervous about his reaction. I mean, I laid my soul bare in that story - it makes me feel so vulnerable to have it out in the open.

If you had told me I’d be talking about spirituality and the paranormal at 4 in the morning with Rollz and Orion, I would have told you that you were out of your mind. There’s a lot of stupid little things that you pick up on - those things that let you get to know someone - and I don’t know about the others, but the sober one noticed a lot. All it did was drive the point home (AGAIN) - I am so lucky to have these people in my life. Rollz and I actually had a little smooshyfest in the car on the way to my house - I love them, they love me, we’re a happy family…

There’s too much in my head… too much that needs to stay there…

Suffice it to say that I can’t wait until the Fringe Festival and their next sleep over!

THE SKY IS FALLING! THE SKY IS FALLING!

I’m just going to go on the record and say I hate our fucking news people.

They’ve built this whole culture around this Chicken Little / Boy that cried wolf frame of mind.

I’m sick of it.

I know—Irene sucked in parts of the country, and not so much in my neck of the woods. I get that we were very lucky. I also get that people need to be prepared for what may happen… but there’s a line that got crossed.

Other parts of the country get Cat 4s. We had a tropical storm by the time it hit the New Hampshire seacoast. We’ve had worse windstorms in the past few years, and I don’t remember this whole DRAMA before the storm hit. If I remember correctly, it took us by surprise.

The media hits the panic button too soon. Maybe that’s what some people need…

I don’t.

Tell me there’s a hurricane coming and I will do what I need to. Telling me it’s THE. WORST. STORM. IN. FOREVER. isn’t going to change my preparations. A hurricane is a pretty severe threat, but at the end of the day, we’re subject to it’s whims. It chose not to hit Da ‘Brook, and I am thankful for that. Had it hit us, however, there would have been nothing more I could have done to protect myself from the damage. I was concerned, and rightfully so, but I didn’t need to hear the news people constantly making it sound like we needed to stick our heads between our knees and kiss our asses goodbye.

Honestly, I was more concerned about the Nuke getting destroyed and killing us than I was about a tree falling on my house or my basement getting flooded. Amazingly enough, there wasn’t a peep about the Nuke. NOT A PEEP ABOUT THE NUCLEAR POWER PLANT THAT I LIVE WITHIN A MILE OF. After what happened in Japan, I think that’s a little more important than hearing that you need to grab bottled water and a flashlight forty eleventy billion times a day. (Granted, I did get sick of listening to Chicken Little, so maybe they did say something, but by then, it was too late. I’d already grown deaf to the little boy that was crying wolf.)

I don’t know—I feel sorry for my friends who got slammed by the storm. I know I’m lucky as hell that we didn’t get touched.

But the next time a storm’s coming, I think I’ll keep the news on mute and just watch the pretty pictures instead.