Little Man

apache :: da ‘brook :: august 14, 2008

People who say having dogs is not the same as having children seriously need to spend a few hours at our house.

Apache is my “special” child.  The one with the wild streak.  The one with the rage issues.  He’s a handful… I’d compare him to a bipolar child.  Seriously.  I see a lot of myself in him.  The wild mood swings, the lashing out, the neediness.  There’s very little that is different between the two of us, once you get past the whole, “He’s a DOG” thing. He’s my little boy… in the body of a dog.  I think that projecting human-ness on him (while frowned upon by the Dog Whisperer) has actually helped me to understand him better. It hasn’t helped with the aggression towards strangers, but since we hardly ever have people to the house, I’m not as concerned about it as I probably should be. 

Much like me when I was younger, he has a stuffed animal that is his constant companion.  Actually, scratch that.  I had Matthew the teddy bear.  Apache has two moosies and a puppy.  He prefers the moosies over the puppy, but he doesn’t have a favorite moosie.  He goes everywhere with the Chosen One.  I think one of my most popular phrases is “No, Poo, moosie doesn’t go outside.”  He insists on taking the moosie outside, but once he hits the grass he puts the moosie down and forgets about it.  If you pick the moosie up, he freaks out and won’t leave you alone until you give him the moosie back.  Then he drops it.  Lather, rinse, repeat.

Have I stressed how important the moosies (and puppy) are to him?  Good.  Moving on…

A few weeks ago, one of the moosies was on Arsey’s love seat.  She jumped up on the love seat and threw the moosie on the floor.

Apache walked over to where the moosie landed, picked it up oh so gently and brought it over to where he had been sleeping.  When he put the moosie down, he let loose this big, huge, sigh and plopped down.

Arsey watched this whole scene with the largest freaking grin on her face.  She knew EXACTLY what she did.

Kids.

HEE!

Completely off topic & no photo—

I was just checking my stats and this here web site comes up # 2 in searches for “suck blow benedetto” !!!!

I suck, I blow, I’m Benedetto! (Yes, he is THE worst ref in Hockey East.)

It’s OK!  I’m with the band!

instrument the band :: the warehouse, hartford ct :: december 14, 2008

After the R.E.M. concert, I discovered that I REALLY LOVE taking pictures at concerts. Mostly because I’m constantly pushing myself and concerts provide a level of difficulty that dogs and birds can’t. 

Taking photos at concerts with the little Olympus in tow does nothing but sharpen my Photoshop skills, but the camera fits in my pants.  I’m so butch that I don’t carry a purse, so if I can’t stow the camera somewhere out of the way, it doesn’t come with.  I learned my lesson over the weekend - I’m never going to another show with the Olympus. It’s worth hauling the Nikon everywhere.

At any rate… I went to The Warehouse in Hartford, CT on Sunday to watch my friend’s band AGAIN.  Twice in one week.  3 hours one way. Hanging out late with the boys in the band.  Getting home after midnight.  Smelling like drummer, lead singer, bass player, beer.  No wonder I’m so freaking exhausted.  It’s so totally worth it, though.  I love being close to my friends - even if it’s a hell of a drive to get there - and I miss the CT music scene I grew up with.  (Thanks, Ben, for reminding me of the “glory days”.) It’s nice to kind of, sort of, revisit such a favorite part of my past… even if it’s not quite the same.

I’m always going to be the kid at the concert, bopping and singing along.  It’s who I am.  Just ask the guy at the Cleveland R.E.M. show. (“Dude, she knows ALL THE WORDS!”) Or you could ask the guy at last night’s show.  I know the words to all of three songs, but I sang along to them and did my little dancing-type-thing.  Guy I was standing next to was looking at me like I was insane, but I was having a blast.  I had my camera, good friends and good tunes. Couldn’t ask for anything more.

Had a blast with Mama and Papa E, didn’t get to spend any real quality time with my new BFF, and we got asked if we had any reefer. Aaron and I taught Derek the proper way to check someone - both by dropping the shoulder and with the hip.  Jonah tried to kill a pole and then waved his (rather large) stick around.  Someone accused someone else of wanting to get laid. (Nope.  That was Thursday, but thanks for bringing it up again.)  Comments made while good-bye hugs were distributed.  (I have much love for you, too.) 

I’m so bummed it’s the holiday season and they won’t be performing for a while.  It’s like hanging out with Viz and Jeff: ...there’s this huge empty void in my life when they’re not around.  Being with these two is like doing drugs -the highs are amazing and going cold turkey sucks.

The only consolation is that I kind of offered to be the official photographer for the band - since I’ve just been paparazzi so far - and the offer was accepted.  So cool!  I get to say “I’m with the band!”  Heh.  It’s the little things that make me happy…

So, Thursday… whoo-boy!

instrument (the band) :: hungry tiger, manchester, ct :: dec. 12, 2008

“All we are is all we’ll ever be…”  Instrument - “Invincible”

I drove down to CT to watch Instrument play at the Hungry Tiger on Thursday.  I did this for two reasons: 1) I needed FUN!, and 2) it was a test of my intestinal fortitude.  I grew up in Manchester, 10 minutes from the Tiger.  My dad and I used to spend a lot of time at Charter Oak Park (which is behind the bar) and we used to eat there.  It was one of his favorite restaurants.  I made myself pretty sick on the drive there - just stressing myself out and having all these little memory land mines come out of nowhere. But, I’ve gone to the cemetery, so this couldn’t be that hard right? Right?  HA!  I almost bawled when I looked at the menu.  Yeah, it’s changed, but his favorite sandwiches were still on it - can’t beat the classics.

 

<.side note>

Before I continue my recap… I was once accused by a boyfriend that I didn’t “let him in” (Emotionally.  Get your mind out of the gutter.).  I explained to him that I had several levels of friendship and that were certain “tests” you had to pass to move deeper into my world. (After my mom died, I learned pretty quickly who my friends and family were.  Basically no one I had known prior to March 18, 1992 stuck around for very long after that. So, sue me for being protective of myself. You would be too, if your whole life IM.PLOD.ED.  KABOOM!)

Anyhoo, he compared them to Dante’s layers of hell.  At the time, the bipolar was undiagnosed and in full swing and, in retrospect, I imagine it was probably very similar.  Instead of hell, I imagine the Tower of London. On steroids.

1) There are those outside the gates: the unknowns/the creepy drunk guys.  I don’t even let them come close.

2) There’s an area inside the walls, but not really close enough for entry into the fortress: people I hang around with because they are part of my social circle but I have no real connection to.

3) Inside the fortress walls are people I like, but don’t necessarily want to spill my guts to.  These are casual friends.  That boyfriend.

4) There’s another fortress behind another wall.  Behind that wall is my “outer circle”.  These are people I *might* take a bullet for. It depends.

5) Inside that fortress is my “inner circle” - the people I WOULD take a bullet for. Without question.

6) Finally, there’s a protected bunker inside the fortress.  That’s where my family lives.  Not my blood relations - they’re mostly useless.  I mean my REAL family… my two brothers, my two sisters, my half-brother, my husband.  These people are my family because they have gone through the worst of the bipolar and come out the other side with me.  THEY’VE EARNED IT.  These are people who are so precious to me, there are no words for it.

<./side note>

A few months ago, I had a blinding flash of the obvious during a conversation with someone.  It was such a BFO it instantly granted him access to “level 4”.  Thursday night, he made it to level 5. V says we “bonded”... maybe.  I don’t know.  Bonded doesn’t seem like the right word… but it will do.  There’s something about him that really makes me put my guard down.  I wish I knew what it was.  Maybe I’d bottle it so I could use it more often.  Whatever. I just really like him.  He’s good people.

Other highlights:

• Within 5 seconds of meeting me, crazy drunk guy is telling me I’m beautiful and lovely and basically coming on so strong, he scared the absolute crap out of me.
• “Personal Jesus” was not sung by Jesus!  (Well he might, at karaoke, but it’d have to be a duet with Hot Dog… hee!)
• Unrequited? Are you serious? For the record - YOU shut ME down. More like uninterested.
• On that note, a spider man body suit? Are you kidding me? Where did that come from?!
• Also on that note, you are a good dancer.  Sorry I’m not. It could have been more fun if I wasn’t tripping over myself.
• Also also on that note, there are certain things I didn’t need to know. Ignorance IS bliss.  Now I’ve got these random thoughts about, well, stuff, popping into my head.
• No, I am not - nor have ever been - married to two guys at the same time.
• Trust me, if I’m calling you drunk, you really are.
• Am I wearing a sign that says “Drunk guys, please hit on me!”?
• Understated is sexy.  Apparently, so is looking like a dyke.
• You know who Spring Heeled Jack & BiG MiSTAKE are?!?  Yeah, I miss the music scene we used to have, too.
• Certain ‘signature’ hand motions and comments should be used more, um, conservatively?  This is a PG-13 blog, so I won’t share one of my final comments to a certain someone… but he knows what it is.
• When we were standing by the bar and someone had his arm around my shoulders… it was nice.  After the earlier attack(s), I felt safe. Definitely a Good Thing™.
• Driving home and mishearing the lyric: “Here we lie breathing, but I lie alone” as “Here we lie breeding…”  Someone’s comments ALL NIGHT certainly put me in a strange frame of mind.
• How do you meet someone - and before you even know their name - say, “C, like in Censored?”  Holy cow, dude!  That was a little much.
• Johnny Curry started in net for the Pens and got the win! *happy dance*  (I had to keep checking the scores on my iPhone because I was dying to know and then I saw it on the ESPN scroll on one of the TVs in the bar.)

I’m normally a low-energy introvert, so when I go out like this, I actually try to tap into the mania side of the bipolar - for the extended energy boost that gets me home safely at 3:45 in the morning. Honestly though, there are points where real me is very high energy without being manic.  It’s a fine line to walk - too manic and I take stupid risks.  I totally could have / might have kissed someone Thursday night.  But common sense pulled me back from the edge.  As it was, I thought I was pretty well behaved.  Except for the language and the hand motion… and I didn’t even notice those, until comments were made about them being ‘arousing’.  I think I’m going to keep my hands in my pockets and never talk again.

I’m going back on Sunday to see the band play again.  I think I’m a glutton for punishment, but I’m interested to see if someone is going to misbehave again. $10 says he doesn’t, but I do…

Hi, Ben!

For the record - I didn’t get home until 3:30 AM, no power, full day of work & a hockey game tonight.

I will post the (censored) story about one of the best nights I’ve had out in a long time soon.  Promise!

(I know someone out there is all anxious for my side of events…)

Here’s a quicky: “here we lie breeding, but I lie alone…” At 3:00 AM, it was pretty damn funny.  There was also a very interesting visual that went along with it. I don’t like the DOVE very much right now.