"Behind Blue Eyes" cover w The Chieftans , Roger Daltrey and Nanci Griffith

A different take on the old classic Behind Blue Eyes

As per usual, the nightmares were intense last night. This one was a bit zombie apocalyptic in nature.The colors were the trappings of an oil painting-- dark greens, mustard golds and blood reds.

My former dept. chair (and friend !) was trying to kill me because I was leaking a story about a student she murdered (he was also trying to kill me) that she and her news staff (along with her husband) framed ( I know, dreams make no sense to anyone else but the dreamer, so why even try to explain?). His death was grotesque and indescrible, and in the end he hung from the ceiling until she cut his bloody body down.

After that saga, we were all in a car together trying to escape what appeared to be zombies or wolves. My girl was in the car with us, and we were splattered with some sort of acid wash. She lost all of her skin (her face green and skeletal) and died in my arms.

I survived somehow but my friend thought I was dead and wanted to cut up my body and stowe it away--and then pin the blame of the student's death on me. As the saw came closer to my face and lifeless body she saw my blue eyes blink and knew I was still alive.

Then I woke up.

I didn't go back to sleep after that-- must have been around 2:30 AM.

Adding to this post as I am heading for home. I prepared myself for the ride home by downing 2 mimosas and took an anxiety med. I'll put my airbuds in and try to think of better things on the 5-plus drive home.

self-medication isn't the best option but it's the only one that will work today.

Wish me luck...

"How to Fight Loneliness Wilco

This song soothes--especially lately. I have spent the last two and a half weeks alone or just sitting with myself. Between the movie set hours and now the event I have had to sit with my thoughts. I've been pretty down, actually.

Smile all the time.. Show your teeth to meaningless/sharpen them with lies..

Thanks, Jeff, for putting my feelings into music and lyrics. I think I am feeling some mild depression. There is a song by a favorite artist, HEM that popped into my head just now: "The pills stopped working." It's a bit too upbeat for my mood right now, so Jeff will have to do.

Guess that's where I am right now. Laugh at every joke/ fill your heart with smoke

Maybe it's the FOMO going back to school thing. Maybe it's the friction I feel with my girl. Maybe it's the saddness I feel about not fitting in anywhere. The mundane. The banal.

On Friday an aquaintance mentioned a student of mine that passed away just after our student trip to NYC and I broke down. That might have been the first time I let that show. Two years later and it finally came out.

At this conference I observe that the person who talks the loudest is the one who gets heard. I am asked a question and before I can reply, the person who asked it continues talking. Because she honestly does not care what I have to say. And when she opens her mouth, I stop listening.

And I stop talking. I go out on my own. Thanks for taking into consideration someone else's dietary needs when deciding where to eat dinner.

"Thai? What is that? Do they have steak and fries? I don't eat anything green." Ugh. Get me the hell out of here.

I'll be okay--just struggling a bit right now. It will be nice to get back into some kind of routine. I will post another song from HEM here. It's been a long time...take a listen, won't you?

"He Came to Meet Me"

"At This Point in My Life" Tracy Chapman

I'm up in Grand Rapids and I remember the photos that a friend posted about this place in December. So beautiful here. This hotel, the vibe... I see why so many people want to move this direction.

Still, I am a summer girl, so the cold winters would break me. I couldn't weather it.

These work trips remind me (too late) of the noise and incessant chatter that so many people live day-in-day-out. The small talk, the trival mindless blither over meaningful spoken words. I come back to my room exhausted but not inspired from these mundane exchanges. I come off as standoffish-- but I am instead protecting myself from the mindless tripe that the people I work with spew.

Unspoken words weigh the heaviest on the heart. And I feel that every day.

The past two days I found myself in a loop of invisiblity. We pass a castle-like building and the most VOCAL unread, untraveled and unaware asks, "what is that building?" And I say, "It looks like the Neuschwanstein Castle in Germany. I've been there. "

But those words seem to be unheard by everyone in the car as the conversation moves on to, " I don't know; it looks like some kind of castle." She says, " I did 37 years of thinking; I 'm done>" Yet she leads the idiot conversation of trivial stupidty .. I miss having intelligent or at least interesting conversations about music, travel, books --anything but being schooled by a talking head that a pickleball paddle is not a racquet and it's not like tennis...

I fucking kid you not, This happened at least 3 times on the 5 hour drive up.

I feel I am working with folks who are totally on a surface level mindset. I am stuck on the set of some b-movie ( wait! that was last week!) that has no substance and I cannot escape. And I hate it. I felt this way last week too. Where are all the interesting people??

Only once did I meet someone who broke the barrier and actually talked about meaningful things. And it's not the same anymore. It is now trival bullshit.

I forget how surface level and unaware so many people are. It is painful.

I want to write about the rift I am having with my girl but it's too much for tonight. The distance between us is growing; her somehow disgust of me is obvious with every dismissive, boundary setting and cold text exchange and I am leveled to my core. One of th few people whom I thought could stand the test has become my biggest critic and avoidant.

It's just another reminder to not invest your heart in anyone--not even kin. Because in the end

They, too ,will break your heart. And there goes another one.

"I Nearly Lost You" Screaming Trees

Well happy almost anniversary. Tomorrow would have been my dad's 86th birthday. The cicadas are calling everyone back to school, yet I am out at Armstrong Stadium filming Little 5. Besides an extra (which, as I mentioned is shit work for shitty pay), I also play Phyllis Klotman, who was a Powerhouse for Women on IU's campus back in the day. In the movie, I get to congratulate the women riders by placing leis around the winning team and present them to the crowd. It's been a cool experience. Too bad they only chose me because I have short hair and wear glasses. See Article https://blogs.libraries.indiana.edu/iubarchives/2017/04/21/1988little5/

Must close and get ready to hit the shoot. Did I lose you?

"Pictures of you" The Cure

THIS SONG came on the radio while I was headed to the Y this morning.

And it was a year ago I was getting ready for my first trip to Madison, WI. I know this because the Facebook likes to remind me of things that happened a year ago, 10 years ago, 5 years.... and a few memories from that trip popped up today. I'm sure there will be more in the upcoming days. Good Times, Good Times.

It is pouring down rain in lovely B-Town. All of those Taste of Bloomington folks are getting soaked. I'm so glad they canceled the filming for today. Imagine watching 200 extras from a movie set running from Armstrong Stadium to the white tent for refuge.

Working on a movie set (at least as an extra) is definitely NOT glamorous. You get to the set at 6:30 AM, check your costume, get approval from hair and makeup and then you sit and wait for three hours before doing anything. Once on set, you sit in direct sunlight at 85 degrees for 10 hours and reshoot scenes over and over until the cut is right. Also, did you know that for this film, we are pantomiming all of the cheering. It actually looks pretty realistic. Then, 12-13 hours later, you can go home.

Good news is that I started as an adult extra and made my way to Club President in 2 day's time! It's funny, when the AD calls for people to get on set, she would say, Race Officials, Time Keepers, Journalists and CATHARINE to places. Well, we all got a kick out of it. I just hope that I get some screen time. I was reflecting back on the other day and something kindof cool happened. We were sitting in the stands waiting and there were lots of young kids around me. The boys behind me were hilarious and were goofing off. There was a former student of mine back and to my right but she had not said hello to me, so I figured she forgot who I was.

So, the boys started talking about school and baseball and I asked them if they went to South. You would have thought that I insulted their mothers by the reaction I got on all sides.

Everyone sitting around me were Bloomington North students. Baseball and Soccer players to boot, so I just added salt to the wounds. I told them I taught at South, so they asked what my name was. When I told them two of the boys said, " Oh, I heard about you." Not sure what that meant and figured kids were trash talking me.

"Nope, there were several things out on social media-- petitions-- to get you to come back to teaching." My former student chimed in-- She was great!

I was stunned. Here I am, sitting with 8 kids who I've never seen before and 1 who I taught in 2 classes and that is what others were saying about me on social media. Man, what do you say to that?

Tomorrow's call is from 8 AM to 9 PM. That is a fucking long call. Then, we film at Nick's for a few days. Cheers to Beers! At least we get a little bit of money out of the deal..

Anyway, you are reading the words of a certified Beverage Management recipient. I'd mix you a drink anytime.

"Two Hearts" The Jayhawks

One might say that I am cruel to my books-- the way I read them, that is. My purist daughter must use a book mark-- NEVER would she dog ear the pages. I know there are others out there like this, and I am sorry for my evil book reading ways.

When I stop reading, I fold the page in half so I keep my place. I often read with a pencil so that I can annotate or underline-- even fiction. Lately I started to dog ear pages where I find a passage that I want to read again. And when I'm reading in the pool, the pages get warped from the water that often drips off my elbows and seeps into the books.

I guess you could say these books are well-loved? I dunno.I think my kid would say I am careless and do not respect my books.

I am finally finishing a book by a favorite playwright, Sarah Ruhl, where she writes about writer's block and it not being a thing. She calls WB an invention; a self-inflicted wound. A chimera.

Instead she calls it "the studious avoidance of writing."

She breaks this down into 12 different categories of avoidance-- and I wanted to touch on number 6 (my lucky number!):

"if I write what I like to write, a person I love will be angry with me, or their feelings will be hurt." Confessional memoirs, revenge plays, etc. She suggests a shift in intention-- to love rather than derision, which requires forgiveness, and forgiveness often requires writing.

Solid advice. Thanks for that. Hope you are well, friend.

Peace.

"Your Diary" Franz Ferdinand

It's so crazy that you can live in a relatively small city and never run into someone.

I suppose we are all creatures of habit and rarely go "out of bounds" or possibly people have reclusive tendancies. Or maybe it is intentional. Staying in your lane...

I was thinking about people in our lives who have hurt us. Parents mostly. There was a scene from The Breakfast Club (and you are judging me right now because I am quoting an 80's Brat Pack movie-- with your smug NPR name droping pious Ionlywatchindependentfilms and mainstream movies are trash elevated snob!) sorry about that.

So, I doubt you are familiar with the scene-- but Claire confesses she will never be like her parents and Allison says, "You can't help it. It's unavoidable." and she also says, " When you get old, your heart dies."

I've been sitting with that for a few weeks now. I think of the qualities that I despised in my parents and occasionally find myself mirroring some of them. I've seen it in other people too. I imagine those parents and feel sorry for their offspring. And what about young girls who hate men? What kind of reflection is that on their fathers?

Well, that was some vitrol. It comes from my dad.

"Good Vibrations" Beach Boys

What is it with men and tan lines? I swear, so many confessions (and a few I can't put on here) were crazy about tan lines. I wonder if it comes from the early Coppertone SUN-TAN iconic girl with her bikini bottoms pulled down that left an indelible mark in the boys' of my youth.

Show me your tan lines and I'll show you mine!

ON a more serious note, today is the anniversary of my dad's death. Has it really been 8 years?

I'm not sure I ever had a serious or deep important conversation with him. In fact, I don't think I ever talked to my parents about anything of deep concern or importance. In fact, I don't think I do with anyone, actually. Pretty sure this blog knows more about me than my own mother. The last time I wrote stuff down in a dairy I was in college. Somehow she found the diary in my closet with some old books and decades later decided to read it. She then mailed it to me with a note that read something to this effect, "I'm so sorry that you were so sad in college. I never knew how hard things were for you back then."

Not sure what was worse--the fact that she read it or the fact that years later she admitted to not knowing a single thing about me other than surface stuff. That goes for most of the people in my life, TBH.

I had a change in my routine today and it has thrown my whole mood off. Nothing like driving to Gosport to have a salad that might give me cyclosporiasis.

Well, cheers to the weekend. Lyle Lovett tonight!

"Skinny Love" Bon Iver

I am currently wearing a sweatshirt that depicts an obese tortoiseshell cat lying on its back and it says ROLLING FATTIES.

I picked it up while in Madison, WI at an 80's vintage shop for $17. They had them in all colors, and if I were smart, I would have bought a few more. My Tortie, Cosmo, looks just like the fatty cat on the shirt, so it makes it even funnier when I wear it around the house-- cause she is quite the fatty roller!

I finally took my road bike in to get it primed for riding. I have been training on my LIV ALIGHT because the frame is much heavier and the tires can get me through the rocky terrain of Clear Creek Trail. So I'll be out on the road soon!

I used to dream that I was trying to run and in my dreams, my body just couldn't move (well, months ago it was fact). Now, while on my bike, I get that feeling that I was looking for in the dream-- gliding, moving without effort. Fingers crossed it's ready for me to pick up today.

Yesterday I managed to get in a 2 mile run with no complaint from the knees. Today is the 12 mile ride and 1 mile swim.

My week is packed, so today I have a paper to write and then serious training-- followed by clean eating-- serious protien and fresh stuff from the Farmer's Market followed by a few crafted cocktails. The favorite as of late is the Jungle Bird--I like to serve it in a Tiki glass.

Oh, and remember kids, "you are what you eat!"

Peace!

"Telephone Line" ELO

One of my favorite things to do is wake up early, get my coffee and do some writing. For weeks I have chosen sleep over early mornings, but today the cats weren't having it. So here I am.

Oh, oh, telephone line, give me some time I'm living in twilight Oh, oh, telephone line, give me some time I'm living in twilight

It's been a productive few weeks of crossing projects off my list. I finally got the deck stained a perfect teak color, my bar is stocked with good spirits and mixers and I have been hitting antique shops looking for cut glass tumblers and unique and funky tiki glasses. I am working on a concept for the spare bedroom and got some paint, but it just isn't flowing for me. The last big project involves hiring a former student to repour the front porch and walkway to the tune of 8 grand. I hope he comes through for me on this.

I booked a Playa Mujeres bound vaca for my birthday-early Christmas and am bringing my girl and her beau along. I love going somewhere tropical when it is cold and snowy at home. Being in the ocean with the sand between my toes in a tropical paradise is my idea of heaven. And my girl deserves it. Once again, I am reminded that we have a finite number of days here and we must take advantage of those people and relationships that matter most.

Hey, how ya feelin'? Are you still the same? Don't you realise the things we did, we did Were all for real? Not a dream I just can't believe they've all faded out of view

My big sis suggested that we go Glamping in a bus in northeastern Indiana. Campfires and Canoes sounds good to me!

I am also gearing up for a couple great shows next week-- Lyle Lovett and Gillian Welch w Dave Rawlings next weekend!

Oh, oh, telephone line, give me some time I'm living in twilight Oh, oh, telephone line, give me some time I'm living in twilight

Class is moving right along. I am getting the hang of mixing and learning about the art of cocktails. It's a time suck to drive up and back every Tuesday, but an adventure all its own. I am fortunate to have the means and time to commit to it. With my g.p.a. I joined Phi Theta Kappa because why not? It's another thing to put on the resume.

Lots of pool time and my tan has never been better. My core is strong and the knees are finally back to normal enough that I can get some running in.

It's been a pretty good summer. Feelin' Good.

CHEERS!

"Night Swimming" REM

There is nothing quite like a night swim...even better naked.

I got my first one in (finally) last night. When it is freakishly hot outside, the only place for me is the pool.

I feel completely at ease in the water and without restrictive clothing its an amazing feeling.

Here's to more nights of night swimming.

"Burn the Other End" Billy Strings

Good song, great lyrics-- a message for us all. Onward, forced through what is next/ And only for the benefit of somebody else/ Stubborn, I refuse to ask for help/ The only expense is just the debt to myself/

This will break/ I just can't/ So I will burn the other end/

Guilty, resenting what I've done/ Traded everything I love for what I have become/ It's wasted, no wonder I'm afraid/ Always struggling to justify the sacrifice I've made/

Well, shit has been busy. And it is stupid hot outside. I have to drive to Muncie in a few hours and I have not been doing my readings. You could say I have a case of the "fuck-its."

Going to Lutheran funerals are pretty churchy. But what is the saying? You can take the girl out of church, but you can't take the church out of the girl? Church is like a soft, comfy t-shirt that when you put it on, you feel content. I was glad to be there, singing the songs, saying the mantras and creeds I knew by heart.

My uncle was a better man than I remembered. And I think that as we get closer to the sand leaving the top of the hourglass, something changes. Our days are numbered and its really only our will that stands between what we have here and what comes next.

Godspeed.

I feel like I am 45 again.

The long bike rides have been a meditative journey and I can fly-- feeling like the young teenager riding my bike on hot summer nights out with friends through cornfields and creekbeds.

I am free in those moments to think and to connect with the road. The swimming has also been a gift, and my knees are finally allowing for longer workouts in the pool. I was able to do a short run today, but didn't want to push it. Still, I feel better than I have in over 10 years. It's been worth every lap, every mile, every rep, every hour in the gym.

I'm starting a new blog. Maybe going in a different direction-- not sure. There's just so much on here from the past that doesn't serve anymore.

I looked back at my photos and found the scale from October 31, 2024. I was 154.7 pounds. And that was a good day.

Today I am 121.2

"Daydreaming" Radiohead

I have noticed that as of late, every time I travel, something bad happens at home.

When in Israel-- Guiena Pig #1 died, When in Sedona-- My Uncle died, When in San Antonio, S.O. went to the E.R., and now in Madison-- Guiena Pig #2 died. Not sure if this is a bad omen or just dumb luck.

When I'm on the road, I usually dream. I rarely dream when at home. In San An, the dreams were bad-- horrific, actually. The wakeyouupsweatingcantgobacktosleep kind of dreams.

This trip the dreams have been filled with effervescent bubbles so bright in color and hue--

I am talking to someone in my mind. There is no sound. No visual. Like underwater.

Only the words, like on a screen or a piece of paper typed out.

The words talking to me share secrets. They seem real, as if there is an actual person attached to them.

The words I hear in my head make me feel something. I try to construct the vision of the person-- what they may sound like, what they look like, but it doesn't materialize.

I question if this is Limerence? That makes me seem crazy.

I decide that it must be SIRI or some AI Bot that can say all of the things that you would think an actual person would say, but it is only an illusion-- and remind myself you are dreaming This is a lucid dream.

After a time, the words stop coming to my memory. The effervescence of the bubbles diminish. It grows darker. I can't hear or see them. I wonder if this is what madness or dementia must feel like-- losing the person slowly, bit by bit, piece by piece, until there is nothing left of them. It feels like drowning would be--but worse.

At the end of the dream, there is nothing but a large bubble that moves close to my face. I reach out with my index finger and pop the bubble, its wettness hitting my eyes and face.

Then I wake up.