I thought I lost you somewhere, but you were never really ever there at all…

goo goo dolls :: casino ballroom, hampton beach, nh :: april 14, 2010

The beautiful thing about blogging is that, no matter what you write, you can reach people.

The shitty thing about blogging is that, no matter what you write, you can reach people.

Unless you specifically call someone out and say, “X, you blah blah blah turnip an octopus”, everyone will think they’re “X”. Shit, everyone will think they’re “X” anyway, like “X” is a code name for them. Even if they’ve never turniped an octopus. Having the entire world think they were “X” never bothered me before. I used to be brave. Fearless. Stupid. Reckless. Back in those days, blogging was awesome. I felt like I was doing some of my best writing.

Whatever it was - good, bad, ugly, riot inducing - it was real.

Now, I’m tiptoeing around.  I’m afraid to say what’s on my mind because I know someone will take it wrong.

I don’t know when I started to care, but it’s gotten old.

There was a blog entry I wanted to post, badly. I needed the closure that putting it out for the world to see would give me. (Nothing’s real unless it’s on teh intarweb, right?) But, I can’t. Too many people would think it’s about them. Some of them would be right… and I don’t need that level of drama.

I’m not working nearly as much as I had been and I’ve found that the fencing is great mental and physical exercise. I’m spending less time on the computer after work and I don’t find myself missing it nearly as much as I thought I would. All around me, things are changing…

I’m

changing.

I’m happy with who I am and where I am right now. 

I’m - dare I say it? - enjoying my life.

I’ve been bouncing around for the last two weeks after I realized that I can do s00per d00per wicked FUN things this weekend. Tomorrow, I’m off to Albany to hang out with Annie, Bear, Bill, Chris, and Orion (aka Black Mountain Symphony). Saturday, I’m CT bound- I’ll spend the day lounging around and visiting some of my favorite haunts before heading into the Insurance Capital of the World to hang out with Soup and Skinny.

Two days, two of my favorite bands, and a whole lotta highway.

I couldn’t ask for anything more.

Just another night around here…

apache :: da brook :: october 2008

The husband just said this to Apache:
“You are our number one, behind our number one. Which makes you number two, and that’s why we call you The Poo.”

Truer words were never spoken.

 

It’s a girl!

charlie :: da ‘brook :: june 5, 2010

...and so, the hiccuping uterus has STFU.

J and I went to the Cocheco Valley Humane Society today to “look”. I’ve wanted a baby for a while, and as I discovered, death makes me want a new baby. (In order: some rabbits when mom died, Apache after dad died and now Charlie. Charlie is named after her grandfather, of course.) As soon as J said we’d look, I knew we were coming home with a cat.

We almost came home with Dino, a 4 year old tabby who has lived with dogs. The only problem was Dino was a “house soiler”. I guess after his owners had a baby, Dino decided to stop using the litter box. We’ve already had a cat that didn’t like to use the box. Pumpkin was scraped, given antibiotics, anti-depressants, and even Rescue Remedy. Nothing worked. I really didn’t want to go through that with another cat. Cat pee STINKS worse than dog pee. So, we gave up on Dino, even though I was finally warming to the idea that not all older cats are damaged goods. (Should have talked to the shelter volunteer first!)

It came down to three kittens - Spidey, Chase and Tootsie. Chase and Spidey didn’t like me very much, but Tootsie seemed to like both of us, so Tootsie it was. Of course, the name was the first to go. I couldn’t do Tootsie. It would have driven me nuts. After a lot of trial and error (dude, I totally would have named the cat “Bruce”, but J said it wasn’t right for a girl.), we came up with Charlie.

I know, most of my friends will be all “Charlie the Unicorn!”, and while that’s not why I chose the name, I have found myself saying “chaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrlllllllllliiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee” a lot.

Adding a third furry member of the family was not something as spur of the moment as it probably looks… I knew Arsey would do well with the kitten. Arsey LOVES all other animals. (As long as they’re not near her food.) Apache, on the other hand, takes some time to get warmed up to new people, so I knew it wouldn’t be that easy with a kitten. We’re a little further on the first day than I thought I’d be, but we’re far from being a happy family. All things in time. Introducing him to Arsey wasn’t all that easy either.

Welcome to our world, Charlie. I do think you’ll like it here.

 

Life is too damn short

boat rigging :: grand cayman :: november 14, 2008

We went up to the Nubble Lighthouse and then to The Goldenrod this morning.

How can something simultaneously break your heart into a zillion pieces and at the same time give you so much hope? That’s what the Short Sands Beach region of York, Maine does to me. I think I’ve said it before—it was my father’s favorite place on the earth. We used to stay at the Sands Hotel (as it used to be known) for one week every summer and every morning, without fail, he’d wake me up doing this version of reveille that sounded like it was being performed by a rooster. We’d hike up to the lighthouse, watch the sun rise, and then we’d head to The Goldenrod for breakfast. Until I went to college, it was our yearly ritual.

I suppose it goes without saying that that’s the only place in the world where I truly feel as if my father is right beside me. I feel his presence in other places, in other ways, but it’s that area between Sohier Park and The Goldenrod where I feel him the strongest. I really needed to be with him today. Thankfully, J understood it and we hopped in the car, no questions asked.

I’ve had a rough couple of weeks… J left for Ohio two weeks ago to spend time with his mom before she passed away. He got almost an entire week with her before the cancer finally claimed a long overdue victory. I joined him last Sunday, for what would become one of the longest weeks of my life. I had limited access to the outside world - no cell service and definitely no internet access (thank you, AT&T). I suppose I could have used my sister-in-law’s laptop, but I didn’t want to do personal stuff on her computer. No email (business or personal), and definitely no Twitter or Facebook. I didn’t want to run the risk of forgetting to log out. My iPhone is probably less secure, but at least this way, I know she can’t log into one of my accounts accidentally.

I don’t “do” family. I don’t know how. My own family had disappointed me so many times that I just shut them all out. Except my father, and when he died, well… It was weird to be around all these people and not know a single one of them except on the most basic level. I worry a lot about the concept of “love”:  Is it possible to love people I don’t even know, and to be honest, don’t really have any need or desire to know? (That sound? Every single in-law’s jaw dropping, I’m sure.) I’m too damn independent for my own good. I know this. I’ve surrounded myself with the people I want to call my family. I don’t need, or want, a “family” that’s forced on me just because I married one of them.

That said, I DID enjoy their company. I DID enjoy letting them into my world, albeit on MY terms. I’d apologize for shutting them out, but I’m not going to. It’s who I am and I don’t plan on tearing down my walls any time soon.  As I’ve said before, I refuse to apologize for anything I’ve done in the name of protecting myself. They don’t know, and can’t possibly truly understand, the events that caused me to build those walls as big as they are.

At any rate, I spent a good chunk of today’s trip wondering if the people who lived in those oceanfront houses knew how lucky they are. How much I’ve coveted them - the older ones, not the new McMansions which lack all the charm. I saw the house my father always wanted to buy. The house I want to buy. I know it’s been in the family (or was) for several generations and that the guy my dad talked to had no plans of ever selling it. I know I’ll never be able to afford it. Not unless I change a lot of things about the way I live and spend money…

I think the same thing - do they know how lucky they are to live there - when we go to our land. We recently discovered that we’ve had trespassers on the property, and that got me fired up to build sooner rather than later, but instead of tightening up the budget, reevaluating our investments, putting more towards the debt snowball, etc., I just let it fall by the wayside.

Not anymore. I’m building that damn house. I will be ready to break ground in five years. FIVE. Do you hear me universe? Stay out of my way. I’m on a mission… by then I’ll be 40. I don’t know what my expiration date is. No one does. But you can bet your ass I don’t want to wait any longer than necessary to get that house built. Life is just too damn short. My mother died at 46, my father at 55, J’s mother at 59.  Those numbers are hitting a little too close to home as I’m in my mid-30s. My mid-30s… it seems so odd to write that, but that’s where I am. That’s eleven years until I’m as old as my mother was when she died. If I’m due to kick the bucket that early, I want some time in my lake house. The one I should have inherited from my father had he lived another couple of years.

I’m done thinking “do they know…” and I’m ready to start thinking “I’m so lucky…”

It’s probably a good thing I’m such an Excel Ninja…

Jerkface made me cry!

orion and rollz :: valentine’s, albany, ny :: may 8, 2010

So, when we last saw our heroine, she was deep in a bipolar snit. The likes of which only really happen once a year. (Thank you, Lord!)

It was decided that she would head to beautiful, scenic, friendly, Albany during the final weekend of The Ick for some much needed music therapy and time with friends she doesn’t see nearly enough.

It was exactly what she needed - including the moment she burst into tears because of what Orion said to her. (For the record, Orion’s a st00pid doodiehead… but more on that later.)

Now, back to first person because writing in the third makes me feel like a ‘tard.

I don’t know how I do it and it definitely isn’t something I mean to do, but I get friendly with people in bands. It’s my thing, I guess. It started with Scott-the-Roadie from BiG MiSTAKE and it’s only gotten worse(?) from there. I can’t count instrument, since I knew D from college, so it really started with Soup and Skinny from All Crazy. Then that crazy little circle of friends included Bill and Orion from Black Mountain Symphony. Now it includes Wild Bill from All Crazy and the rest of Black Mountain Symphony. And Larry the Lumberjack from Sound in Stone. (He’s a lumberjack and he’s ok… DUDE! He plays the tuba. He. Plays. The. Tuba. In. A. Rock. Band. ZOMGWTFBBQ!!!!!!!111!)
 
I want to talk about Larry first, even though he’s really a bit player in this drama. (I have a bit of The ADHD tonight. I’m still in a manic phase and I had fencing. Mania + exercise = bad combo for me. Prolly the main reason why I don’t exercise like I should… but I OH! LOOK! A CHICKEN!)

So.

Larry.

After the show, I went outside to find Sound in Stone and see if they had discs. I recognized most of the band members, but when I went over to them, they kind of looked past me. Not Larry. We engaged in a nice chat about the Worcester area and their attempt to get into the Boston scene. He asked me how I discovered Black Mountain Symphony. (Yes, I’m the crazy girl from New Hampshire that drives all over creation to support my favorite bands.) He talked about playing brass instruments and I told him about my tweet where I said it was cool that he carried the bass line on the tuba when the bass player moved to the keyboards. It was good bonding. I gave him $10 for a CD - doin’ my part to support the local scene - and the look on his face was kind of interesting. I don’t think most people pay for their CDs. It’s a demo, granted, and it looks and sounds like a demo, but they still had to pay for the discs, ink, etc. Like I said, I support the scene. Even when it’s bands I don’t know. (Honestly, crappy production value aside, its a good disc. Not as good as their live performance would have lead me to believe, but it’s good. Definitely one of those discs that take a few go ‘rounds on repeat before you really get in the groove, though.)

Compare and contrast: a band named Gone By Daylight opened for All Crazy at their last Hartford show. They reminded me of Fall Out Boy, not necessarily in a good way, but the music was catchy, so I went in search of a disc. I got it from the lead singer’s girlfriend who took my money and shoved a CD at me without saying a word. No “thank you”, no “please sign our mailing list”, nothing. Not even a freakin look my way. Hey, GBD, I loved you live, but I’m so not going out of my way to see you. I’ll save my gas money to see bands that actually APPRECIATE the people who buy their CDs. Got it? (Long story short, guess who’s going to go to another Sound In Stone show at some point?! August. Portland, ME. I’m serious as a heart attack. Bear was very right when he said I’d like them.)

It all comes down to how you treat people - your current fans, your potential fans, and the friends who have been there for you. All three groups are vital to your survival. Larry treated me well. Scott-the-Roadie treated me well. Soup and Skinny treat me very well. And Black Mountain Symphony…

Well, they have a little guy that made me cry.

When I walked into the bar, Bill saw me before I saw any of them and I got a hug tackle. Annie and Rollz came over to talk to me, too. It was so nice that they were as excited to see me as I was to see them. (Although this now makes two or three times Annie has said they’ve been talking about me. Should I be weirded out by this? LOL) I had very nice chats with all three of them, both as a group and individually. It’s nice to walk into a bar and get welcomed so warmly. I hate bars and I’m probably never going to be 100% comfortable in them for any of a dozen reasons, so it’s REALLY nice to get the warm welcome.

After the show, I went to talk to Orion. I thanked him again for the nice things he posted to my Facebook wall. Then we talked about my drive and some other things… the end result was that he made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It was REALLY nice to hear such kind things from him. It totally made my night. My weekend. My month. But the end result was that I burst into tears the minute I hit my hotel room. He had been TOO nice, TOO kind, and I’m not used to hearing stuff like that. That’s not to say that Soup and Skinny don’t deliver the high octane warm fuzzies, but this was… different.

So. Yeah. Jerkface made me cry.

Things have changed in my life - drastically - since I took the new job. I definitely have less time to play than I would like, but it will even itself out. I don’t know how and I don’t know when, but the meantime, I’m itching to find the time to head back up to Albany.

Even if it means Orion makes me cry again!