Bono wrote this song in 2001 when his Da died from cancer. Still, I think the words and especially this video with Bono singing along with himself, showing his raw feelings is priceless.
Take a listen, won't you?
Well, I did it. I accomplished the goal.
And now, just days away from the anniversary of my retirement, look what I accomplished.
Life is a river--not a straight line. The paths are crossed for reasons we do not know.
Is it to inspire? To motivate? To consider the possibility of other? To choose yourself? I would love to hear your side of this conversation. Maybe someday.
The race was a tesimony to my will and determination. And even though afterwards I could not walk (thank God for upper body strength) and am still struggling now to climb steps and get up from a seated position, I am already signed up for next year's race.
I feel so disconnected. I've been literally running and can't keep up with my own life. Still, I know some are going through transformation and need space and time.
That doesn't mean I'm not rooting from the sidelines-- even when I feel shut out of the process and want to be there for you,
feeling mostly that I am not needed-- in fact, maybe in the way---
Not part of it. Maybe I never was.
I wish for real positive change and look forward to that reminiscent cup of tea...
When you are no longer afraid to trust yourself.
And you let me in.
What do you need from me?
Say what you need to say-- Even if your hands are shaking/ and your faith is broken/
Even if your eyes are closing/ Do it with your heart wide open.
THE SOLDIER was in town to see his college aged daughter and to attend the annual ROTC Awards banquet. We met up for drinks and has a chance to talk about our families and our lives--victories and setbacks alike. It is rare to know someone with such character and confidence. THE SOLDIER shared stories from our past, which made me laugh-- and some that made me feel bad. I realised that I was reckless with peoples' hearts and for that I am sorry. Fortunately for me, THE SOLDIER was forgiving.
His infectious laugh, dimpled grin and sparkle in his eyes has not faded-- ready for mischief even now.
Because connection can't be forced. It doesn't shy away or make excuses. It doesn't second guess or overthink. It doesn't hide. It doesn't disappear.
It is present. It trusts its instincts. It leaves space.
It just is.
I run my first Mini Marathon tomorrow. I've done the work and am trying to mentally prepare. I just wish my knees would cooperate! Here is my playlist if you are looking for something to motivate your workouts!
Mini Marathon
Susan Tedeschi has the most soulful voice. Tedeschi Trucks Band is playing this summer at what we used to call Deer Creek up in Noblesville. Great cover!
My Confession today that I need to share is actually about my obsession with Vintage and Classic cars and trucks.
For most people, they see a beautiful person and their gaze follows, for me-- it's cars.
I love the smell, the sound, the look, the steering wheel, the headlights, the colors....
If I win the lottery, my first purchase will be a vintage car.
I have to skeet but will return to this later. In the meantime, here I am basking in one:
Another Theme Song for Me. Brings back so many memories. Do you know this one? Sounds like me and my lust for challenges and terrifing adrenaline- induced activities!
THE TEACHER , who was a true confession, introduced me to lots of Irish/Scottish/UK bands and put them on mixed tapes for me. He was of Irish descent and proud of it. Lost his Dah when he was a boy and never truly recovered from it. We dated casually and watched Quentin Tarantino movies together. He was a gentle soul. We are still in touch via the Facebook--a good egg!
I am not sure when my lust for attempting things I couldn't or in most cases, SHOULDN'T started. There has always been a bit of a daredevil in my system, but I certainly didn't get that from home. Today's crazy happening *might* get me arrested. Or in a fight. Or both. I will be running through the trails and streets of IU campus with 28 other hashers all of us decked out in crazy red dresses. You will see everything from full blown ball gowns to scantily clad dresses on grown men. We generally meander around ( well, the Hare's lay trail before hand) and run through Little 5 parties. One year we ran around the football stadium as well.Talk about a rush. Nothing like it. I have noticed that this year is particulary active with parties and police presence. Students basically blocked Kirkwood last night and the police were called to disperse the crowds. So today will be interesting!
It has been over 10 years since I have been to a Hash and I can already feel the adrenaline rising.
I also like to check out houses that are for sale without the help of a relator. It is especially easy to gain entry after an open house, where the relator shows people around and forgets to lock the back door. Of course the front has the lockbox, so no dice, but the back-- they often forget about it. I got into this house-- boy oh boy--- if only... https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/870-S-Woodscrest-Dr-Bloomington-IN-47401/94519150_zpid/
I think part of the reason I do these things (and so much more) is that I HAVE to experience everything in life possible before I no longer can. Somewhere inside of me knows that I have a short shelf life and to quote The Flaming Lips, "all we have is now."
It's ok, I am totally fine with it. In fact, I almost got into a fatal car accident last night (my friend was driving and she felt SO bad). I was unphased. I just said, "Becca, it's not quite my time. Still too much to do."
I don't know if I will go so far as to jump out of a plane, but I am always loooking for the next experience that will light me up like a pinball machine. The Mini next week will be a mental and physical challenge that will test every part of myself. It scares me to my core-- but my will is undaunted.
Slow down, you're doin' fine
You can't be everything you wanna be before your time
Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight, tonight
Too bad, but it's the life you lead
You're so ahead of yourself, that you forgot what you need
Though you can see when you're wrong
You know you can't always see when you're right
You're right
I was recently asked, for the first time that I can recall, what do you need?
What do I need from you? What can you give to me that I currently don't have? Something that I am lacking in my life or with myself that you can offer?
What do I need?
I found that simple sentence to be the most selfless thing a person could say to me. It was like surrender. You would be willing to give me something that I need. Not just something that I want, but something that I am without that would make things better.
It would be selfish to answer that question. I am not a taker; I am by nature a giver, so the very idea of someone else giving me the thing that I need was in itself the thing that I needed.
Would you do that for me? I am not worthy of even sharing with you the thing that I need even if I knew what it was.
I suppose when you go without the thing that you need most you put it aside. I want to know what YOU need from me.
I think that what we both need from each other is Emotional Intimacy. No?
I booked the tour today. 7 days. Ollantaytambo Ruins, Huaca Pucllana, Sacred Valley, Sacsayhuman Ruins, Kenko and Tambomachay, Machu Picchu and more. This will feel similar to my Pilgrimage to Guatemala, where I communed with the Indigenous People of Chichipate and learned of a Guatemalan genocide that took place there (Maya Genocide). I have a fascination for how populations or even civilizations disappear--
I explored Poland and Germany to experience the most heinous death camps of all time. I visited the place of Christ's birth, torture and crucifiction. And now, the Spanish conquest of MP.
I was re-baptised in the River Jordan. I rode a camel within feet of the pyramids. I rappelled into a cave of water in the Yucatan. It's the Year of the Fire Horse and I am feeling it!
I took some excerpts from one of my favorite Chiliean poets, Pablo Neruda, from his Ode to Machu Picchu here:
VI
Then up the ladder of the earth I climbed through the barbed jungle’s thickets until I reached you Macchu Picchu. Tall city of stepped stone, home at long last of whatever earth had never hidden in her sleeping clothes. In you two lineages that had run parallel met where the cradle both of man and light rocked in a wind of thorns. Mother of stone and sperm of condors. High reef of the human dawn.
This was the habitation, this is the site: here the fat grains of maize grew high to fall again like red hail. The fleece of the vicufia was carded here to clothe men’s loves in gold, their tombs and mothers, the king, the prayers, the warriors. Up here men’s feet found rest at night near eagles’ talons in the high meat-stuffed eyries. And in the dawn with thunder steps they trod the thinning mists, touching the earth and stones that they might recognize that touch come night, come death.
VII
And yet a permanence of stone and language upheld the city raised like a chalice in all those hands: live, dead and stilled, aloft with so much death, a wall, with so much life, struck with flint petals: the everlasting rose, our home, this reef on Andes, its glacial territories.
VIII
Come up with me, American love. Kiss these secret stones with me. The torrential silver of the Urubamba makes the pollen fly to its golden cup. The hollow of the bindweed’s maze, the petrified plant, the inflexible garland, soar above the silence of these mountain coffers.
IX
In this steep zone of flint and forest, green stardust, jungle-clarified, Mantur, the valley, cracks like a living lake or a new level of silence. Come to my very being, to my own dawn, into crowned solitudes. The fallen kingdom survives us all this while, And on this dial the condor’s shadow cruises as ravenous as would a pirate ship.
X
I question you, salt of the highways, show me the trowel; allow me, architecture, to fret stone stamens with a little stick, climb all the steps of air into the emptiness, scrape the intestine until I touch mankind. Macchu Picchu did you lift stone above stone on a groundwork of rags? coal upon coal and, at the bottom, tears? fire-crested gold, and in that gold, the bloat dispenser of this blood?
I just happened upon this song and WOW. The words! The sound!
This song totally describes me and my adventurous spirit. You gotta take this one in!
I have the travel bug again and happened upon some money to pay for it. I've been researching lots of places but landed on Peru. So, in September, if all goes well, I will be checking another place off my bucket list. Lima, Cusco, Yucay/Sacred Valley and-- best of all-- MACHU PICCHU!
It has been a dream to hike it for over a decade when I read a National Geographic piece featuring MP I was determined to go. The Incas, The Mayans and the Aztec Empires are of great interest to me and I have been lucky enough to visit Uxmal (Yucatán),
Cobá (Quintana Roo)and Chichén Itzá (Yucatán). I've also visited Tikal and Lamanai in Guatemala! The last on my list from Mexico is Tulum (Quintana Roo). That will happen some day..before my knees give out.
In the meantime-- I'm Machu Picchu bound!
How about that last Confession? Too much? I thought the blog needed a little spice.
Tonight marks the eve before my girl was born 23 years ago. I only had to push hard for about 30 minutes and she was here. Of course, there were contractions for about 5 hours and a scare that the umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck that brought on a moment of concern, but she was resilient. I feel for women who went through hours of labor and consider myself one of the lucky ones. She has become a kind, smart and lovely woman, and my best friend. Growing up only knowing her parents as separate was most likely the thing that made her ok. We did everything together. I loved to invent fun things for us to do, especially in the summer when we were both off for vacation. Now that she is older, I am happy when she calls for advice or just to vent from her day.
She came to visit with me and see the kitties and was filled with such joy. Tomorrow I will retrace the day of her birth and celebrate with her at 6:37 PM, the exact time she was born.
Happy (almost) Birthday, my sweet Lilly Ruth!
FUN FACT: If you see a house for sale, check the back door because occasionally it will be unlocked by accident, offering a free tour of the house. Yep, that's right. I have been lucky enough to see some pretty cool houses just by trying the back door. more later...
Stardust worked for me as a designer for a few of my shows. I also got him hooked up as a fellow DJ where he spun Jazz records. He was also in the October zone (you'll have to go back to previous posts, if you haven't been keeping up to what that means. I think it was October 7). He always had an adventure planned-- and often times what we did was tresspassing. I would skip school on a beautiful autumn day to have a picnic after exploring a quarry, hike Yellowwood, climb Cedar Bluff, walk Sycamore Landtrust, traipse through the Sculpture Gardens in Solisbury. And in all of these places we had steamy sex. It was exhilarating and exciting, knowing that someone could come along any second and catch us. We didn't care.
One time he was on air and I came over to the studio wearing only a trench coat. He found a long song to play on air and, well, you know. Sex.
STARDUST showed me what sex was supposed to be like.
He was the one who left me stranded in the D.C. Museum with my baggage locked in a locker. He was manipulative and cruel to me--but the sex was well... too bad you can't get equal parts good sex and good, kind person.
Occasionally I will get a post card from STARDUST from Germany or some far away place he is visiting. Or an email will land in my inbox wishing me happy birthday signed:
OLIVE JUICE (If you mouth the words it looks like I Love You.
Wow well, the words. the words.
THE SOLDIER called me yesterday. We haven't spoken in over 5 years but we picked up just like 30 odd years had never passed. And he still calls me Cat.
Another from the Sub Pop label. The Shepherd's Dog came out in 2007. This is my vibe today. The clouds outside have my vibration at a low level.
My girl is in the middle of her MCAT. I am feeling her nervousness in the pit of my stomach. Feel a bit like crying or throwing up-- or both.
ACCEPTANCE
I still have a few Confessions yet to chronicle. As I start to think back, some new ones cropped up. One or two are significant and I have so much to say I need to narrow it down. Others were a blip on the screen. Still, I remember all of them and how they made me feel. I remember feeling unsexy. I remember being told I was ugly. I remember hearing that I was average. I remember being rejected. I remember being abandoned. I remember being ghosted. It's no wonder women hate themselves when wanting validation from the opposite sex.
I don't know what to do with compliments today. Fortunately, I don't get many.
If someone told me I was beautiful or sexy or desirable I wouldn't believe them anyway. How do unlearn all of those ingrained thoughts and feelings?
This confession was high school again. THE MODEL came around soon after THE SHOWMAN told me I was like raw fish. I was a junior and it was the winter of 85.The MODEL was a transfer student who drove a Volkswagon Beetle, smoked cigarettes and seemed to have some kind of checkered past. He showed up mysteriously and disappeared just as cryptic. He worked for the Helen Wells Modelling Agency in Indy and was tall, with dark straight hair and dark brown eyes. He had more of a bad boy look than a clean cut preppy or rugged muscular vibe. His dad owned a restaurant called Fuddruckers in Castelton and would take me there on dates. I'm pretty sure he had a side hustle selling weed, as he would be gone without explaination and had older friends who lived in apartments in Indy who he hung out with, and always had a wad of cash.
He seemed much older than most juniors, but he had a kind disposition--at least when it came to me.And his smile was dreamy. Ha Dreamy. But it was!
I remember driving in his Beetle--it was cold-- he had the window down because he was smoking and the song Broken Wings by Mister Mister was playing. How's that for a crystalized memory? My 16th birthday was coming up and he was going to take me out-- but he stood me up. Mom had made a pink frosted birthday cake with roses on it. So, I made my wish on that 16th birthday feeling let down.
I don't think he finished out the year at our high school. Maybe he got a big modeling job and moved on, or whatever bad shit he was into got the best of him.
Ah, the Sub Pop label. I remember this song! Great harmonies.Take a listen, won't you?
Today's Confession was short lived. Another Beautiful One. THE FIREMAN
It was fall break and the son of a colleague (he was late to enter the teaching world) was student teaching at our school. We became fast friends. He stopped by my room at the end of the day to see what plans I had for the break. Of course, I had none, so he invited me to meet his friend and throw darts at Upstairs. THE FIREMAN and my friend both graduated from the school I was teaching at and he was in town for the weekend to catch up. The night led to beers and darts, followed by dinner at Tro-Ho and back to my friend's mom's condo, where he was currently staying while student teaching. The conversations flowed as did the beer, and pretty soon it was too late and we were all too wasted to drive, so we all crashed there.
THE FIREMAN was one of the smartest people I have ever met. As a kid, he would read encyclopedias for fun. He would start with one letter and keep going until the whole set was finished, and then read them again.
I remember going to the Farmer's Market with him later that weekend, and we were standing next to his jeep. It was getting warm and he took his shirt off right in the middle of Kirkwood. Needless to say, what they say about Firemen is absolutely true. Strong, sexy, athletic, smart. He had it all.
I would drive up to see him on an Sunday afternoon, stay over and leave early Monday to get to work. It was an hour drive, so not terrible, but 4 am wake up was a beast. One time when I came up, I think it was Thanksgiving, he was changing the sheets to his bed. I guess that doesn't mean much, but later that night, I found a long black strand of hair that attached itself to my calf.
I didn't say anything-- we never did say we were exclusive. But it did give me pause. Being a serial dater you learn that there is a time limit. It's three months. If you make past the three month threshold, you may have a chance.
It was coming up on Christmas and my cat was not well. I decided that I needed to put her down, and asked if he would drive down and do it with me. He agreed, but the day I had to do it, he called and said his Jeep was in the shop and he couldn't make it after all. Or ever again. THE FIREMAN extinguished me. We almost made it to three months, but I knew it would never work out. It was the worst Christmas present I ever received. I cried for a week straight.
I saw that he married not long after. She was strikingly beautiful, tan and fit,
Reckoning was one of the albums I used to play on repeat-- that and Murmur. Those early albums were spot on. The guitar has a signature sound frozen in time-- 1984. I came back today and played the whole album. 7 Chinese Brothers--- man. I'll post it as well. Such great new wave music came out of the 80's and I loved the shit out of it.
Who shall I write about today? I had someone in mind, but it's a long story with an interesting end and I am pressed for time today. I read something that stuck with me--
Retirement is not an ending
It is a transition.
And identity is not fixed.
It evolves.
I hope that I am intentionally building my next identity.
I think I am .
I have to come back to this post... ok, back. On tonight's agenda in Spiritworld will be Brandy and Other Fruit Based Spirits. We are down to just 3 on the call, and have all been spending every Tuesday night together since August. You would think there would be more comraderie but these people are stiffs. I get drunk with strangers and feel like I'm the only one who is having fun. Oh well.
Confessions of THE THEOLOGIAN
This goes back to high school. At the time I didn't know anything about the Law of Attraction, and still don't really. But it seems that is what happened here. My best friend at the time was bi-curious guy pal (we were always paired together in shows- since fifth grade, so we got to know each other well-- he was my dance partner in show choir as well. Also, he was born October 5, so you know it was fated). Anyway, we were seniors and there was some school wide convocation we all attended. As we were leaving, we both saw THE THEOLOGIAN. He was a junior--a lovely, tall, thin fair haired, blue-eyed darling. I think both of us gasped as he passed us by. My guy pal stated that he was going to find out who he was. Not before I do! So it became a bit of a competition.
I ended up winning, but only because THE THEOLOGIAN and I were in a show together (One where I had to strip down to a negligee onstage-- the 80's, right?). He introduced me to so much music-- and deep dive into U2, The Call, Sting's Bring on the Night, Amnesty International concerts like Secret Policeman's Ball. It was 1987 and we drove in his green vintage Mercedes, drank IBC rootbeer and played Paul Simon's Graceland and U2's Joshua Tree. He was a devout Christian, and he took me to his church's youth group bible study a few times. After one session I told my parents they were fakers and frauds-- not real Christians.
That went over well.
But school was almost over and I was headed to IU while he stayed at home. We stayed friends and wrote letters back and forth- and he said he met someone. She happened to live in my cul-de-sac. I hated those holidays that first year when I would come home to see his car in her driveway. Blue eyed boy with this Brown eyed girl-- the sweetest thing
I still can't listen to that song.
After graduation, THEOLOGIAN went to Taylor U to study theology and then later Seattle School of Theology and Psychology. I am pretty sure he came out as gay. Or celibate. I wonder when he finally stopped dating women. I am sure coming out and grappling with faith was a struggle for him.
And I thought the reason we only got to 1st base was because of his beliefs.
One of my all-time favorite songs. I never really listened to the lyrics until today. The words seemed somewhat appropriate.
Today's Confession I'll call THE PEDANTIC
I met THE PEDANTIC you guessed it, on an educational trip to Rome, London, Paris, Normandy and Florence. I was a chaperone taking my first trip with students oveseas and learning the ropes so that in the future, I could be in charge of organizing and eventually leading more trips. THE PEDANTIC was also on tour leading his own group and so our groups were combined. The PEDANTIC was from Upstate New York and was recently divorced. His sister was also on tour as a chaperone. He was all swagger and of course all the high school girls swooned over him. His doting, protective sister had Resting Bitch Face-- well, actually she was a total bitch, so it was just Bitch Face to me.
I am not sure when things started-- on these trips you are constantly on the move and communicating with tour guides and such. But since we were taking a bus to different countries, there was plenty of drive time to get to know people. THE PEDANTIC taught AP European History and liked to enlighten everyone who would listen to all of his embellished facts. He also used words incorrectly like IRREGARDLESS. Ugh.
The sister did not like me. And she made it abundantly clear. Still, we managed to go off on our own to explore cities. In Florence, we got lost down alleyways holding hands and finding secluded restaurants to kiss and drink wine.
Our last night in London, my group had to leave at 2 AM and his at 4 AM- we stayed up talking and kissing. But what do you do when the trip is over? We did the long distance calling thing. He suggested we both buy a copy of The Kama Sutra and would read it over the phone (I didn't have a smart phone with facetime) to each other. He would fly down to visit and come to school with me and hang out with the other Euro teacher through the day. He talked about moving to BTown and going back to school It wasn't practical, as he had 3 boys and one had a serious learning disability. He shared that he grew up in poverty and would sometimes have to go without or sell belongings for the family to get by. He told me about Marshmallow Fluff and how you add it to peanut butter and put it on bread. That's what he would eat as a child.
THE PEDANTIC didn't last long-- because how could it, really? But he burned me to my core. He told me that he met a woman doctor in a Starbucks and they were getting married. Fools Rush In.
Sometimes going back to a tune like this is just the salve for the heart chakra. It's a peaceful, quiet morning and I am watching the rain fall from my office, window open and breeze blowing. I should be studying, but I want to put on some records and read instead.
My girl is coming over today! I was going to take her to her first Hash this afternoon, but I don't want to injure myself (or herself) if we hash in rough terrain and take a tumble. Bummer.
Going back through these confessions, I really hope folks don't think I am a terrible witch. Or a clueless bimbo. Maybe I was clueless at 18, but this is just the mosaic of my dating life in snapshots. To be fair, I have met men whose scent attracted me to them bigtime. I just know there is a particular pheromone smell or smells (maybe it's a dominate alpha scent?) that don't/doesn't work for me personally.
I woke up (well, the cats woke me up) thinking about this Confession and the concept of Pheromones. And this confession is a case AGAINST certain smells for me. I have met maybe 4-5 men that reek of a Musky smell that is so strong I could not date them. As physically/intellectually attracted to them as I may have been, I couldn't get past their smell.
And it isn't something you can say while trying to break it off. " I can't stand the smell of you.." That would devastate. So this one I will call THE BOOKEND
We met in college--had a casual date senior year and as luck would have it, landed at the same hotel in Daytona for spring break. I was on a break from THE SOLDIER and just wanted to have a good time with my roommates for our last hurrah. But THE BOOKEND was persistant, and he kissed me that first night at the wet t-shirt contest ( of which my roommate won) and NO, I didn't participate!. I wanted nothing to do with him down in Florida. I have a picture of him somewhere on that first night in Daytona-- crazy times in a white t-shirt. He was cute, but the musky smell...
Decades later, I taught his eldest daughter in school. She was a comedic genius and I helped her through stuff while her parents (THE BOOKEND) were getting divorced. I had no idea that her dad was this guy I went out with in college. No idea. He showed up to one of her shows and re-introduced himself to me. After she graduated, he asked me out and we dated about a month. He said I was the last woman he kissed before he met his wife and the first woman he kissed after he got divorced from his wife.
It sounds so poetic. I just couldn't get past the musky smell.
He married a girl from his high school that he knew. I think they are well.
I guess her pheromone radar isn't as sensitive as mine. In fact, maybe she likes it!
Sea Change is a masterful work of art. He wrote it after a breakup with his longtime fiance. I saw Beck open for The Flaming Lips with this album. I was pregnant with Lilly and very depressed. This album captures my mood right now. Take a listen to the whole thing if you have some time. I, with all of the best intentions want to share these intimate parts and songs that are beautiful and heartbreaking and sometimes inspiring. My hope is you can hear them in the same way I do.
Guess I'm Doing Fine
Lately everything is making me angry. People, bad drivers, the cats, loud unexpected noises, the fucking news, my scale, my body, getting parking tickets, stupid, pointless conversations, wasted time, shit that needs to be done around the house, banality..
I did manage to run the full seven miles for this week--twice. It's the only thing that gets me out of my head these days. I say to myself, "This is what mile 1 feels like. Oh, this is what mile 3 feels like, I have to pee, This is what mile 6 feels like, I can no longer feel my legs, Nothing hurts, I am not feeling anything right now."
There is no sunken treasure/ rumored to be/
wrapped inside my ribs/ in a sea black with ink/
I am so out of tune with you
I've been feeling out of tune. I am creating distractions. I AM doing the work-- but I am impatient. I crave answers. I seek affirmations. I desire feedback. Yes or No. Tell me the dates. Live up to your promises. Do your fucking job. Put in the time and the work. Know your truth. Help me to understand. See Me.
I'm challenging some of the social constructs and conventionalities of certain ideas. But the people I commune with wouldn't understand because they are part of those systems. So I keep it to myself. It's a lot to carry around. And the heaviness is too much.
Today I got up early and worked out (I work at 11 today). I love driving in the early morning when the grass is dewey and the fog obstructs the view. Upon my return home driving East I came home to this (see below). Of course, the pictures never do the landscape justice, but it was a glorious sight to see.
I think Mark Knopfler is the bomb. And to think I was this close to joining the Roller Derby. My name was going to be Teeny Mussolini. Those bouts were a hoot to watch! I think the main reason I didn't join was I didn't want to lose my teeth!
This Confession really stemmed from skating. My first slow dance on the skating rink from the church youth group outing and the song was "Endless Love". He was a boy from church I met at a Lock In. Remember those? I'll bet they don't have those anymore. Too dangerous! I can't even say that we dated because I was in sixth grade--he was in seventh. He'd call and there would be dead air for long periods of time on the line. I dreaded those calls.
We were both cross country runners, so sometimes we went running. He told me I had an unsexy walk. Dude, I'm eleven years old! It's something you don't forget.
Sixth grade was vicious. I was still wearing my hair in pony tails. I wore my blonde hair down only one day-- picture day and everyone flipped out. We moved from our elementary school to the junior high and my safe bubble of friends were scattered. My homeroom had a lot of the popular kids in it. I rememeber the boys in our class came up with a ranking system for all the girls in the class on how hot we were. The girl who was a ten had the biggest boobs in the class.
I was a six.
There was a red haired freckly ruddy football player who seemed to be the ring leader of our class. He called me ugly to my face. Andy Knapp. Yep, I will name names this time. Thanks Andy for that. I just looked him up on the Facebook. So dumb he doesn't know how to make his posts private. He looks like a big douche.
By the way, after sixth grade, my lucky number has always been six.
I've noticed that my songs aren't able to play lately. I've got to figure out that glitch. The past few songs I have posted are beautiful eclectic melodies.
The earth is waking up and it brings me joy. Is it weird that the smell of someone cutting their grass makes me so happy?
And don't get me started on the smell of chlorine for the pool! The windows are open and the fresh air soothes my soul.
Today's confession: THE GEARHEAD
Wednesdays used to be my radio show-therapy- and then wine bar night. B-town had an awesome wine bar that offered live music and tapas and an atmosphere beyond compare. It was my favorite spot to decompress, meet friends and spill the tea, or to celebrate big victories. I knew the owners and most of the bartenders ( most of them were music majors or opera singers bc they could pronounce some of the foreign wines correctly). I was still married when I started going to Tuto. So the bar got me through the rough times and then the aftermath. At the time, my hair salon was located downstairs, and I suggested to the owners of both places to offer glasses of wine to women getting their hair done. I recall a sad day when I was getting my hair done and working through hard stuff that I sat in the chair and sobbed. My stylist didn't say anything, she just let me cry. It might have been not long after I fled the house to a nearby neighbor and spent the night in the women's shelter. She didn't make me pay for the cut. She just gave me a hug and sent me on my way.
Whooosh. Where did that memory come from?
So GEARHEAD worked in IT for IU and had all the gadgets and wore them proudly. He had the phone thing that attached to your ear and he wore those toe shoes. He was a smartie but was a little off, maybe on the spectrum. I wasn't attracted to him in the slightest. But he was a wine drinker and he had a wad of cash. Oh, and his birthday fit into the December 4 people (remember what I said about meeting people around certain dates? yeah.) Gearhead would meet me at Tuto on Wednesdays (that was the only time we really ever hung out) and we would have a few and then go back to my place, where he would bring over several bottles of expensive reds.
I woke up many a Thursday morning with a massive hangover back in those days.
Again, it wasn't as if we were a couple, although I am sure he would have wanted more. I don't think he was able to express feelings very well, and in my state at the time, I wouldn't know how to deal with them.
One time when I was really sad, he took me to a nail salon. I think it was when the Colts were going to the Superbowl. He brought a bottle of champagne and we both got pedicures. he had his toes painted with Colts colors---blue and white.
Thing about him-- he didn't live far from my Westminster condo, so he would walk home after a night of debauchery.
He never let me in his house. Never suggested we go to his place. I wonder if it was a total mess or what. I always wondered about that.
So after Tuto closed and we were donesville, he started to hang out as a regular at THE DAD'S haunt. I always wondered if they ever talked about me. I'm sure they did. That feels dirty.
I have never seen GEARHEAD with a woman since and feel bad for him. I have that effect on men that get too close to the flame. Did I break him? I'm so sorry.
I really dig this song. It was playing on my way to the Y this morning. A beautiful sexy song. Enjoy!
My new glasses make me look like a combination of Rachel Maddow, Jamie Lee Curtis and Macaulay Culkin's younger brother, Kieran in Home Alone where he plays Kevin's nerdy cousin!
Today I ventured out to try a new winery up in Bargersville of all places. Most of these
Indiana wineries cater to the sweet fruit wine drinkers, but this one had a few dry wines that were palatable. The vibe was chill and the place also offered a soup and charcuterie in what appeared to be an old barn at one time. The Mallow Run Winery sits out on a large patch of land with a small music venue. I would say this would be a perfect first date kind of place. The homemade jalepeno cheddar bread was amazing (even if I am in training) I tried it anyway.
Man, what a feeling to not have to prepare for school on a Sunday and just enjoy the beautiful spring day without the Sunday Scaries! I know my theatre friends are under serious pressure and stress right now. Big Love to them as they gear up for the big show of their seasons.
As for me, I focus on training. I will attempt 7-8 miles tomorrow. I had an easy 1 mile run today with 5 minute intervals after and a hard lift. I feel strong. I feel good. But I desperately need to up my mileage this month. NO EXCUSES!
I stumbled across this beautiful little melody this morning. I don't even know this artist, but I like what I am hearing. It's a simple song but it lifts the spirits. Take a listen.
It is a cold and rainy spring day here in the mid-west. I am feeling a touch lazy but content. It has been a wild 8 months. I am coming up on the anniversay of my retirement in May. I really didn't feel "retired" until August, when everyone went back to school, so I am not counting the first 3 months--summer vacation, don't you know?
Man, it has been nothing like what I pictured it would be. You really cannot plan your life precisely. I am looking back at the goals I set pre-retirement and much of it didn't play out the way I thought it would. Still, I can cross things off my bucket list and I have seen some great shows, great cities, and had some adventures to boot.
goal 1: Train for the Mini Marathon.
This has been the most challenging but the most positive goal that I have been working on. It stalled out at the beginning of summer with injuries that I have felt off target ever since. But I went from 153 pounds and not being able to run a mile to now 128 pounds and can walk/run 6 miles. I have a month to go, and I need to keep up the pace.
goal 2: Find Purposful Work
This goal didn't play out exactly as I thought it would. But there must be other things in the mix that have not yet been revealed to me. Still, working the long-term sub gig has been extremely fufilling and has kept me connected with the one steady in my life- my-school. I have another long term position set for the month of May through the end of the school year. Here's hoping my other side gig will offer me some work travel opportunities this summer.
goal 3: Create Art
While on a work trip, I came across a picture hanging in the lobby of a hotel that inspired me. Since then, I have created 3 pieces and have started a 4th.
I have been writing every day since January. It's obviously not much substance, but it is an exercise in repetition that is a good outlet for me. My creativity was key to life as a teacher, and I need that to be ever present now. I also need to get back into playing my guitars. I have not been working on my house projects as much as I had hoped--plus with less money it's hard to justify creating a beautiful space right now. Someday soon.
Here are other cool things I have done in the past 10 months:
Visited Madison, WI, Orlando, FL, St. Louis, MO, Corydon, IN, Louisville, KY, Columbus, OH, Washington, D.C., Chicago, IL, Muncie, IN, Pasadena, CA
Saw Eric Clapton, Jeff Tweedy, Gillian Welch, Jim Gaffigan, Nate Bargetzie, and a Candlelight Christmas Carol concert, did the traditional Nutcracker Ballet-- will see Andrew Bird, Wilco and David Byrne in the upcoming months. I am also headed to Sonoma and taking the train to The Grand Canyon in May.
Visited various wineries and distilleries around Indiana and have tasted hundreds of different wines, beers and spirits for the completion of my Beverage Management Career Certificate, of which I have been taking classes since August. This experience has been a game changer for me and my knowledge of beer, wine and spirits.
Visited the Cave System of Southern Indiana
Decorated the White House for Christmas
Experienced a Professional Bull Riding Competition
Hiked the trails of Clifty Falls, Brown County St. Park, Dunes of Indiana
Saw a Cubs game in Wrigley Field
Joined a book club and have read 6 books (I know, not a lot, but for me it is!)
Ran a 5K Turkey Trot
Walked for Alzheimers
Went to 3 IU Football games and 5 IU Men's Basketball games
Toured The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame
Heard Pete Buttigieg speak at IU
Participated in the Womensbuild
I fixed my record player and am now playing vinyl!
Applied for a Legacy Award through Road Scholars (fingers crossed!)
Ahhh... nothing like sitting in a dim, windowless room with nothing but a computer screen and cinderblock walls on all sides. I don't know how someone could do this job day in, day out with basically no human interaction. And the interactions are with the kids who just got in trouble. Actually, I know most of them, so it's been ok.
I was looking for a band that I used to listen to back in the day. I remember how much I loved The Decemberists and saw them FRONT ROW at the Bus Chumb-- I even caught Colin's guitar pick at the show! So here's this one for today.
Who should I write about today? My Confession: THE HASHER
If you don't know (and most people don't) what a Hasher is or even what Hashing is, you'll just have to look it up. It's a whole thing to try to explain. I had been part of the our kennel for a year or so when THE HASHER joined our cozy big group. He looked exactly like Anderson Cooper (and he knew it too) and there wasn't a mirror he would walk past without preening himself. His former longtime girlfriend was a designer I used to work with but had lost touch with over the years. She was a beautiful and talented soul. (remember what i said about being too pretty/handsome?) If these two would have had children they would be beautiful-INSANE but beautiful.
THE HASHER was a major flirt and someone I would never usually date. He was like a rooster strutting around with his pecs out-- the best character I would say he reminded me of was Gaston from Beauty and the Beast. I remember how he would sweat profusley (doing anything-- I'll let you imagine) and after a run would like to strip down to practically nothing. If there was a hash with the end point being near water, he was the first to get naked and jump in. Another fun detail, at hashes, kilts were popular with many of the male attendees. THE HASHER didn't wear his tighty whities (or anything) under his kilt. Don't get me wrong, I'm not opposed to nakedness. But when you are outright flaunting it to everyone, it's a bit much.
Don't ask me what the attraction for me was to him. I think I liked that I was faster than he was. In fact, I was an FRB (front running bastard) and he couldn't keep up.
I stopped hashing because of him. And that wasn't fair. I was good and I enjoyed the challenge, the people and the beer. Maybe I'll get back into it now.
Suffice to say, our time together was short, as he was a swinger and I had my dignity. Last I heard, he hitched up with a fat bottomed girl (he was into big butts-- and, well, I am not well endowed)
living off her income out West somewhere.
This confession is a little fuzzy on dates and I can't even remember the last name of THE ATHLETE, but the details I do recall. Before I get to my confession, I wanted to share something that I have observed in my dating career and that is: NEVER DATE SOMEONE WHO YOU THINK IS BETTER LOOKING THAN YOU.
It's true. At least in my experiences. I think the rules aren't the same when finding a life partner--there are other factors to consider, but in this case if you are planning to reproduce, having an attractive spouse isn't a bad plan. Still, while dating, if you don't want to be dumped, cheated on or left heart-broken, you better be the more attractive in the relationship.
Now, please, don't think I am shallow. I am not. I have been there before. I was the ugly duckling. I am admitting it. Just stay with me, here.
I can think of other reasons that some of the guys I dated potentially left. Most of the time it had to do with not wanting to mess with a kid that wasn't theirs. I get that. It also seems that these guys were a handful of years younger than I was, and usually that is a turn off too (dating an older gal). Dating in my late 40's guys were always looking younger. And often times, MUCH YOUNGER. But I was in my 20's when I met this one, so this was pre-kid-prime time peak physique for me.
THE ATHLETE was better looking than me.
I mean, he was Adonis, and I was no Venus. Now, there's a sad story..Anyway, I was lifeguarding at the local gym in the summer months to make a little extra money but also, I was in training for a mini triathlon, so I was putting in the time. I met THE ATHLETE in the pool, as he would come in during my shift to swim laps. I'm talking ripped like I've never seen before. He was built like a brick shithouse. There was only one thing about him that was odd:
He only had one leg.
The story as he told it goes when he was a boy he grew up on a farm and would take the tractor out to mow or do fieldwork (again, some of it is fuzzy). One day while he was mowing, the tractor flipped and it severed his leg just above the knee. So he uses a prostetic. He was in school at the time and was planning to specialize in prostetics so he could help other patients who suffered like he did as a boy.
Pretty impressive story, to be sure. Sad thing, THE ATHLETE liked to just talk about his training, his diet, and even more boring, his past races. This was the 90's, before cell phones had great cameras, but I suffered through a few albums of race photos in other countries and here at home. Yikes!
I hope THE ATHLETE is out there doing what he set out to do and making people feel like they can recover from something so agonizing.
Another blast from the past-- I heard it on Sirus XM this weekend. This song rocks out.
It's bad news/baby I'm bad news/ I'm just bad news bad news bad news..
Last night in Spirits 101 I got to try 5 different gins. I am not a gin drinker, so this was quite an experience for me. I learned that I prefer Tanqueray over Bombay Sapphire, and Gordon's is absolute TRASH. Also, Aviation American Gin is a celebrity gin (Ryan Reynolds) and it is pretty darn good. Next week's spirit: Whiskey.
We are rivers, not straight lines. In Memoirs of a Geisha, the protagonist Sayuri is told she has "water" in her personality because she is fluid and adaptable, unlike her sister who is rooted like wood. A key quote regarding her nature is: "My mother always said my sister Satsu was like wood; as rooted to the earth as a sakura tree. But she told me I was like water. Water can carve its way even through stone...and when trapped, water makes a new path."
I'd like to think I am more like water.
Or Fire
Have you enjoyed the confessions? Which do you like best? I've got more to share if you'll let me. Let's see, today I'll share my Confession of THE SOLDIER
THE SOLDIER also lived in my childhood neighborhood, actually just around the corner from THE POET growing up. He was a grade lower than me. Back in high school he used to call my younger sister, who had no interest in him. Sometimes THE SOLDIER would call and she would have me talk to him, as we had very similar voices and he never knew it was me.
Nothing materialized from those talks for any of us. I was seeing someone at the time and had no interest in him back then. He was just a younger boy who had the hots for my little sister.
Flash Forward to my sophomore year in college, when Little 5 was amping up. I lived in a double single in Teter Quad, THE SOLDIER lived in Ashton, which was just across the street. FUN FACT: THE SHOWMAN also spent some time living in Ashton and I recall visiting his dorm room once. Small, disgusting world, isn't it? So this particular Little 5, I was dumped by THE ACTOR (more on him later) who pledged Phi Delt and thought the sorority girls were a step up from me, so THE SOLDIER and I started to hang out together.
We dated through college, with a few breakups here and there. I was lavaliered the fall of my senior year, and so we were what you would call serious. I decided to add a minor to my credentials in order to get a job faster, which made me have to stay in school an extra semester, so we graduated together.
He was in ROTC and did all the Airborne and Air Assult Camps for Officer Basic Training. THE SOLDIER was then stationed in Schweinfurt, Germany, set to leave just weeks after graduation. He offered me an engagement ring, but moving to Germany and living on an Army base was not in the cards for me. I wanted to live independently. I was too young to marry and felt that I needed to experience life on my own.
So I turned him down.
We kept in touch, and after my first year of teaching, I took a plane to Germany to see him. We traveled all over Europe-- Germany, Belgium, France, Netherlands in his little white BMW. It was a life changing experience, going to clubs in Amsterdam, drinking German beer with a spoon, visiting a death camp, driving across the Autobaun, seeing the Eiffel Tower and the Louve and Manneken Pis.
We both moved on with our lives, married, had kids. I would consider THE SOLDIER a great friend.
On the morning of my dad's funeral decades later, who walks into the church to pay his respects?
A song for those who need to hear it today. It inspires me. I am working hard on all the things. I am feeling stronger physically and mentally. Weak in the heartstrings, and that's okay.
Today's confession: THE PHILOSOPHER
It was just before Thanksgiving Break of my sophomore year at university and back then you only got Wednesday thru Friday off. These days the kids get the whole week off, as they should. I guess I was 18, about to turn 19 at the time. My big sis was my ride home, and she loved to work in her studio more than taking time to visit our family, so the plan was to leave Thanksgiving morning. I was taking a class in Religious Studies on Christianity, Judaism and Islam. I missed a required film session about said topic, and the A.I. for my section offered to set up the missed film that Wednesday afternoon ( it was at the main library) for me. Since I was stuck on campus an extra night, and all of my friends were gone, I figured--what the heck. I was pretty naive, I know. You probably see where this is going already.
After the film, THE PHILOSOPHER suggested we get some dinner and he knew a great place. It was the deck that The Upstairs Pub took over and I think it served Tibetan food. THE PHILOSOPHER was interesting and discussed philosophy, theology and more. He must have been in his early 20's at the time, maybe 25 or so, but to me he seemed so worldly.
He suggested we play some pool at a divey bar ( The Office Lounge) on the outskirts of town that didn't card, and so I went. This was my first time in a bar and I was drinking PBR and playing pool with my A.I! WTF?
We went back to his apartment not far from the bar and listened to Brian Ferry's Boys and Girls album and he showed me his books and relics from places he had visited in far away lands I never dreamed to see.
This night solidified Boys and Girls as a makeout record. He took me home late that night.
Fortunately, there were only a few weeks left in the semester, and those small group discussions were difficult. He never called or even talked to me after that night. I guess because I didn't go all the way with him-- I wonder how many other coeds he coersed into going home with him.
I changed my class to PASS-FAIL to be sure he didn't try anything weird.
The snow is falling again. Days like these make me tired and unmotivated. I did do some art this morning and I think I'll pick up my acoustic again today. My calluses have disappeared and I have not been playing as much as I had hoped.
Since I have been working so much I feel like I am on spring break like the rest of Bloomington. Too bad it feels like winter and I'm not going anywhere for now.
The kitties are bonding and are happy here. Cleo slept next to me last night and they were both on the bed by morning. They like to come into the bathroom when I pee--reaching up to give me kitty kisses. We made the right call getting both of them. Pretty sure they are litter mates. I can tell they are grateful. Yay!
Roxy Music was a fav back in the day. Brian Ferry looks like a stupid head in this video though. Did you ever see Lost in Translation with Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson? If not, I would suggest it to you. Here's a quick summary:
Fun Fact: When I visited Tokyo, I stayed at the same hotel they filmed this movie. It also has a great soundtrack, with the final song (and heartbreaking scene) from Jesus and the Mary Chain, "Just Like Honey." I think I'll add that one here as well since it's so good. Man, the guitar in this song.. ah.
I digress-- In the film there is a scene when the two go out and sing karaoke (because, well Japan, duh!) and Murray sings "More than this." He does a bang up job, too.
I picked this record up the other night at the local record shop where the prices are OUTRAGEOUS and they are always out of what I want. I'm sure it's hard to be basically the only place in town that carries this particular type of music and to keep it in stock. I just need to take a trip up to the Ripple and hit Indy CD and Vinyl or Luna Music.
So I listened to some cool grooves and played this one in its entirety and would say the whole album could be its own makeout tape! I just forgot how much I dig this record!
We adopted two cats today. They are in hiding under couches and beds but I can tell they will like it here. Lilly decided on Cleo and Cosmos for the names. We also scattered Percy's ashes around the property. There were some tears, but I think of things with Divine Timing, and that is just what this was. I'm looking fwd to the day when these two beauties will trust me and will show their true personalities.
THE PHILOSOPHER or THE BIKER or THE PHILANTHROPIST
We ran 3 miles today at a 9:40 (is that a pace? It was nine minutes and something). She's a good running partner. Today we are going cat shopping, although I think it is still too soon. Lilly has a way with animals (and people too). Being an empath, she feels more from others, which is sometimes good, but it can take a toll. I have to really work at raising my vibration when she is around, even when I am feeling sad because I know she can tell.
THE BIKER
I met THE BIKERat a popular hipster coffee shop I used to frequent after the divorce. It was my Saturday and often Sunday morning ritual to sip java and write. They had outdoor seating, which in the warmer months, was sanctuary for me.
I was much older than a lot of the college kids and 20 somethings who worked there and hung around. I got excellent music referrals from the hours I was there. Did a lot of deep introspection in that place...
Anyway, the Biker was part of a small crew of us who would commune on those Saturday mornings. He was a lab assistant in the Jordan building and was closer in age than the rest of the young folks. I noticed him because he always rode a motorcycle. It was a bright blue Honda Shadow, the same bike as THE DAD rode, so I was familiar with it. In fact, I am sure that is why we got to talking in the first place. We never really dated per se, we just talked and sometimes would go on a ride. I also watched his cat when he would leave town.
He was an odd guy, but friendly. He lived in a tiny attic next door to his mom's old antique store, and would look after it if she needed him in a pinch. I loved that store because she had cats and they would help you find treasures as you passsed through the rooms.
He didn't own much and liked it that way. He also owned a cat.
I like cat people.
Each winter, he would ride his motorcycle to Key West and stay for a few months. I'm really not sure what kind of kink he was into, but whatever it was, he hid it well. he seemed to appear and disappear from town a lot. He knew the art of detachment.
Several years later, I was at the Corporate Coffee working on something (it was close to work and I was on a deadline). I was sitting outside and heard a motorcycle roll up. It was THE BIKER. We laughed because back in the day everyone at our shop would rail on corporate coffee as if just going there made you a terrible no good consumer who didn't help out local businesses. We talked for awhile and then he left.
I haven't seen the biker since that day. I hope he is down in the Keys with a few cats living like Ernest Hemmingway--without all the bar fights.
This song. It stirs up so much. Beautiful Simplicity.
The trees are flowering, the forsythias are blooming and the Willow trees are in bloom. I can see the starts of so many plants and flowers and new life everywhere.
I know a secret dafodill farm on the southeast side of town. An old friend lived in a rental adjacent to the property and she discovered it one spring. The dafodills carpeted the ground for miles. This isn't the Link Observatory up near Martinsville. This is a hidden plot of land with so many varities of blooms you want to make boquets for everyone you know. I would love to go back to see if it is still there.
Anyway, I am finding joy in these simple things--the season's change and the warmth of the sun on my face. Cheers to the weekend.
I can tell you all I know, the where to go the what to do/
You can try to run, but you can't hide from what's inside of you./
Words we all need to hear right now.
My girl doesn't like Steely Dan. I think it's because her dad (Dan!) and I both like the band and used to play their records separately at home. That's a weird thing. Separate but the same. We all laugh about that now.
I think she is warming up to good ole Steely.
We were better friends than married partners. I'm grateful that we were able to keep things amacable while the Lilster was growing up. She's coming home today! It will be nice to pal around with my kiddo. Maybe get a run in on the B-Line.
How are you? How's the journey going? Have you picked out a record for yourself yet? Sending love your way.
Here's a recent confession-- THE DAD
When I first got married (round 1), THE DAD worked as a charge nurse, night shift in the ER. I was usually gone to work by the time he got home and to bed. One morning in the early years (of course), I put Chicago's "BEGINNINGS" on repeat on the cd player, so when THE DAD got home it would be playing. I know, how cute, right. What a love song though!
Fast Fwd to a year ago, Lilly had something at Butler for all of us to attend. I think we were moving her into her apartment, so we needed all hands on deck. After the move, we all went to one of the local pubs for lunch and to bid Lil' farewell. It was a warm August day and we were sitting out on the restaurant's outdoor seating.
I am always attuned to what music is playing where ever I am, I recall having to strain to hear the house music at this place. But at One point in the lunch, "BEGINNINGS" started to play. I didn't look up at THE DAD to see if he could hear the song or if he even remembered it from 20 plus years earlier.
I forgot about this song. It popped in my head as I was sitting down to write. Since the last confession was high school, I thought I would linger in the early years a bit more. Also, this one was not someone I dated, but we became close friends during a time when both of us were at a transitional part of our lives. I'm trying to find the perfect name for him. He has the perfect name, but I can't write it here to protect him. Plus, it's quite a story, so grab a beer and pull up a chair.
I'll call him.. THE POET
The POET was a few years younger than me in high school. He and his family lived just around the corner from me and we went to the same pool. I wouldn't call Poet a childhood friend, just someone I saw around a lot.
I had just graduated from college and was back at home, interviewing for teaching positions. I managed to land a lifegarding gig back at the pool I used to swim for and Poet was also a guard there. He left college after two years to help out his parents when a law suit took the bookstore his dad owned from the family, leaving them no income. Fun Fact: It was an ADULT bookstore.
Poet and a few other friends would get together nights light candles, read poetry, play music and drink wine. U2's Achtung Baby was in rotation, as well as the soundtrack from The Princess Bride ( Poet looked just like Cary Elwes, btw) and we would often go out and terrorize our Stupid Conservitive Republican Law Abiding town.
Poet never wore shoes--not even in winter. He would show up at my house snow on the ground- no shoes. Poet was always up for an adventure, and to escape our limbo lives. We would run on golf courses in the middle of the night while the sprinklers were going, in winter, we would strip down to nothing and make naked snow angels in the yard (That was fun explaining to mom). We took long drives to find urban legends like the Haunted Bridge Queen Blaring on the tape deck. None of us were afraid of being naked. And nothing ever came from it-- we were all just a bunch of drunk, naked 20 somethings living our best lives.
Poet loved to go to used bookstores and buy me books of poetry and inscribe them using an old inkwell and metal ink pen-- the ink would smear everywhere. I think he was the most romantic person I have ever met. Chivalrous to a fault.
August came and the position was offered to return to my college town. He decided to go into the Air Force and moved to Utah. We got on with our lives and lost touch, as people do, until..
In 2012, mom called me and told me Poet was going to prison for 40 years for attempted murder. Poet became a laywer and was always fighting for good people. He attacked the man (legislator) who contributed to his parent's bookstore loss so many years ago. He died in 2020 in prison.
This one is a short stint from high school. We only went out a few times, but it is comical how it ended.
We'll call him THE SHOWMAN
In case you are new to vocal music, certain parts go together. Others just don't mix. Most of the time the leads are tenors and sopranos-- we altos and baritones end up playing the character part, not the ingenues. And Basses, you guys are just anomalies to me.
I was an alto (first and second, to be fair- yes, I had some range).
He was a tenor.
I auditioned and made the elite show choir, THE AMBASSADORS, my junior year. One year prior, they performed at the renowed Bishop Luers Show Choir Competition and swept the competition. The SHOWMAN had a reputation of being the best singer in the choir. His mom was a vocal coach and he got the talent training in spades.
The first time I heard SHOWMAN sing "Johanna" at the fall concert, I was stunned.
Stephen Sondheim took a liking to SHOWMAN so much so that he cast him as Jack alongside Burnadette Peters in the 1987 Broadway production Into the Woods.
So SHOWMAN could have his pick of the litter and well, he did. When it was my turn, we went out a few times that fall. He broke it off in the driveway of his next pursuit-- comparing me to sushi. SUSHI? I just had to try it. Ouch. I cried the whole night after that.
He chose a soprano, of course, and they were prom king and queen that spring. They were together through the rest of high school. The perfect couple--on and off stage. . They also were the leads in Guys and Dolls (Sky Masterson/Sarah Brown) and The Music Man.(Harold Hill/Marion)
I got to watch their love story unfold from the wings.
Grieving is hard to do without explaining why, without being able to explain why. To anyone.
It seemed appropriate that I woke up thinking of Lyle Lovett songs, as he evokes all of the feelings. A song from my first wedding and how I failed it. The deep well of loss and regret. The empty void left from the silence. The heaviness that I feel and I can't discern it from wanting to puke.
I'm sitting at a table of people talking and I can't hear a thing anyone is saying...I am suspended in this place of ick
It was August, 1992. I just accepted my first real job as a teacher in a college town.
I was 22 years old.
After the interview and acceptance formalities, the principal gave me a tour of the school. He also offered to help me find an apartment, which I thought was so kind, being only days away from the start of the school year.
THE PHD was much older, 33, but tall and I suppose handsome looking. It was October when he called me. I remember because we were on fall break, and he invited me over to check out his newly built deck or some stupid reason. I was flattered, of course, my boss inviting me to his house, so I accepted.
This turned into a weekly visit. I would get a call late afternoon on Sunday and would drive the two or so miles to his house and go home later that evening. At work I felt like Hester Prynne. We never so much as made eye contact at work, nor did we talk about what "we" were. He wouldn't take me out obviously, for fear someone from our relatively small town would see us, and I started to resent that.
THE PHD was born and raised in an even smaller town south of ours, and his parents still lived there. After over a year of this pattern, he finally took me to get sandwiches and sit out on a grassy hill overlooking his old town. I guess I considered it progress-- but at 23, I was ready for something more than this.
I felt trapped. If I broke it off, how would that affect my evaluations? If he wasn't ready to actually call me his girlfriend or whatever, and be seen in public with me, what am I doing with him? I was better than just a booty call.
This continued for another year, but we did become closer. Still, there were no proclaimations of love or commitment from him. It took his father dying of prostrate cancer to make the break.
Let me explain.
His parents moved into his house when his father was diagnosed. They found it easier for receiving care at our hospitals, and the long drive from the south took a toll on the aged couple, so he took them in. Weeks, then months passed, and our weekly rendezvous ceased to be. He thought my apartment was cute, but he couldn't imagine sitting (or even sleeping on) a futon. Plus, he was allergic to my cat. He would make up an excuse to his parents about picking up milk and the store and would just stop my to see me.
I never was formally introduced to his parents. They didn't know I existed. After three years of seeing this man, I was not marriage material.
I met his father on the day of his funeral. In the casket. I shook his mother's hand and sat down in the pew.
" His Eyes are on the Sparrow" played on the organ and I cried. Not because of his father--but because of this realization. I meant nothing to him.
The split came that spring. He was apparently "torn apart" by it. He took trips with the show choir teacher and her husband to New York City to get away, visited Martha's Vineyard with a Vice Principal (she tried to get me moved to the neighboring high school), and would not speak to me the rest of the school year.
That summer, he took a position as Superintendent at a school in the Chicago Region-- one of those snobby rich communities.
He also got married--to a girl that was his former student. She was in that same show choir--
I am a collector of clocks. I know, it's a dumb thing to collect. It seems like none of them work, and I'm pretty sure that's bad luck. I've become hyper-aware of my clock obsession twice a year when I have to go around the house and set them forward or back. "Oh, I forgot about this one."
Forward or Back.. you choose.
My bro-in-law shared this cover artist with me, Seany Clarke. He's pretty damn good. Carolyn got me listening to The Style Council back in the 80s, and Seany does an interesting acoustic cover of "Ever Changing Moods."
It's nice to finally have some sunshine after a week of darkness. My mood has been low and could use a pick me up. The sun always helps-- but there's a constant lingering ache.
Can we entertain the thought of writing letters? The book I am reading is reminding me of how much I used to adore getting hand-written letters. I was always a good pen pal. Unfortunately, most others were not.
I am finishing up my last paper for Sensory Analysis. The window is open and the birds are busy chirping and twitting. The daffodils are up. I adore spring flowers. They have the most delicious earthy scents.
I remember this time right before Lilly was born (T.S. Elliot, The Waste Land), and the depression was pretty bad. Such a paradox, spring. It can be a pretty emotional time for me.
Synchronicity. My girl just texted and completed her MCAT practice test and she feels good about it. Only a few points away from the score she needs for her master's program.
Isn't it crazy the way the thing that almost kills you is the thing you can't live without?
I got the email at the studio last night--chalking it up to rain, lightning and 50 mpr winds. I was both let down and relieved. The gallery walk was unimpressive. Sis didn't have many pieces on display because they are in a gallery in India. Okay. It's fine. It gave me time to talk records with Dave and keep tabs on mom. I forgot how much she talks-- about nothing.
Lots of unexpected events lately that have thrown my rhythm. I noticed that I have been sighing a lot lately. What's that about?
After the trip downtown, my girl and Ronan ordered our Curry pizzas (and the usu for the rest of the normal folks), I was happy to see that Ronan, who is a food snob, LOVES the Curry House and we ended up ordering 3 differrent Indian pizzas to try.
Mom's friend (who is a mooch) called and I invited him over to finish off the leftovers. That gave we kids a chance to get outside the stifling house and take in the glorious spring night. We stared at the night's sky and breathed in the air. Lilly and I took turns rolling down the hill, pressing our faces into the earthy grass- just like we did when she was a girl. And for a moment, I was happy.
Mom has taken to smoking in the house again. I opened the front door and it took me back to my youth, when dad would light one cigarette off of another. The carpet and drapes are saturated with the sickly smell. My bedroom is just above the family room, where the smoke would rise and the ventilation is terrible, forcing me to leave the window in my bedroom open even in the winter just for some clean air. Back in the day due to my bedroom location, I was privy to many fights and late night accusations--I look forward to the day we sell this house.
This morning I woke to the whispering and sighing of the tires in the rain and thought of this song.
My race is Saturday, but I just haven't had it in me to train as hard as I wanted to as of late. It won't be pretty--especially not in the pouring rain. Here's to hoping the energy of others will help me to POTTP (push on through the pain). Hell, if I can push out a baby without drugs and just a midwife coaching me, I can run 6 miles.
I am taking mom to Big sis's gallery opening tonight in Indy. It should be a helpful diversion, and I always like to see what she is working on. I have amassed a nice collection of art over the years. I think I have over 10 of Carolyn's pieces, along with 3 other local artists' works hanging at home.
It's important for me to know about a piece that I have up in my house, and I can say that I have had a conversation with the artists about every one of them. Besides my David Wade set renderings, my favorite piece is a Patricia Rhoden Bartels that I bought when I was pregnant with Lilly. I got to know Patricia in her Gnawbone studio and fell in love with her work.
My other favorite artist, who owns Clash Galery next door to Michael's Uptown, is Jen Mujezinovic. I have a few of hers in my office.
I am blessed to know so many talented artists and proudly hang their pieces in my space to remind me that beauty is all around me. Even when I can't see it. And especially when I can't feel it.
I'm sitting in a dark room with strangers listening to The Mountain. "The Hardest Thing" is playing right now. Ugh.
They don't even know I am here. To be fair, this is a better way to spend my time than sitting with my feelings at home. I can at least interact with others on a superficial level and possibly learn something new.
I feel like how it looks outside today.
PLENTY OF FISH
I started talking about some of the crazies I dated and wanted to circle back to Bachelor Number 1. We'll call him PLENTY OF FISH (POF) because I met him on the dating site. First rule of thumb--dating sites are the WORST. Don't do it. The men on there are gross. They lie about everything and seem to be seeing multiple people at once. So, POF was a mistake from the get-go, but I was lonely and I thought what the heck. Found out he was also seeing a hasher friend of mine, Dowell Rod, and when she found out, well, it was not pretty. Small Town Dating. Incestuous.
I guess I could also call him Pratfall or Pornpal.
We disagreed fundamentally on a lot of things. It was tumultuous and there were frequent breakups. Growing up with parents who smoked, the thought of dating someone who did was non-negotiable. It doesn't matter how many times you brush your teeth, you taste like an ashtray. But profiles lie. About so many things.
Dealbreakers for me: drugs, cigarette smoking and porn. Why didn't I question those "watch later" shower videos on youtube?
If that is your lifestyle and you are into that, cool. Just be honest on your profile. I'm sure there are plenty of women who would be into all of those things-- just not me.
He told me his first sexual encounter was a three-way. And his brother, who sounded like a bully, (later I learned big bro had schizophrenia) got POF high right before taking the SAT. At restaurants he would take napkins and wrap up any leftover food, rolls, chips, whatever and make me put them in my purse for him. He had 2 boys who pretty much lived with mom, as she kept the house, but on the few occasions she would leave town, he would stay with them in the house-- IN THEIR OLD BED. Am I crazy to think that is messsed up? When I saw he was talking to multiple people at once, I confronted, he denied. I could go on, but I think you get the guy by now.
One weekend he left his Maker's Mark in my freezer. After a Sunday rehearsal, I paid him a visit bringing his whiskey back and hoping that we could spend some time together. He knew I would be getting in touch after rehearsal, however I didn't call first. I was in the neighborhood, so why not? I knock on the door. No answer. His car is there, so I cross to the side door. I knock again, and try the handle. Unlocked.
I call in and no answer. So I enter, thinking something must be serously wrong. Well, it was wrong as he was jerking off to a video. I screamed, and opened the mostly full plastic bottle of Maker's Mark and dumped it all over him. Oh, I forgot, when I pulled the sheet back to reveal his actions, he grabbed my wrist with his lotioned hand. Gross.
Running to the car, tears in my eyes, I vowed to never go on a dating site again.
I laughed and cried about it on the way home- it was pretty stupid what I did. But hilarious too. Funny thing about living here. You can avoid running into ex's pretty reliabily--at least I do. Especially if they are creatures of habit and you don't live on the same side of town. They become complete strangers. Like we should have been the whole time.
