For a few days I have been toying with an idea. Today I made it real. Not ready to give up on this blog completely but I thought that I would try something new. And if it works out, you won't just be reading my stuff there but others as well.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
It all started with tonight's season finale of "Gossip Girl." Yes, I watch it. And? The episode was filled with the requisite drama and some actually insightful relationship advice. Oh, and this song.
And if you know me, then you know that music makes me all like Benjy in The Sound and the Fury. The neurons start firing and I'm all over the place in terms of memories. One song leads to a memory that leads to yet another song and yet another memory.
Through it all was one question -- who do I want to be in this chapter of my life? I know that I can no longer go out five nights a week like when I was 30. (And before you have a hissy fit and all, let me just tell you that my rule on a "school night," was that I had to be on my way home by midnight at the latest. For the most part.) What I love about that person was that she could find fun in the smallest of things; she knew that sometimes the best happens when you least expect it. Life is not built upon plans. Well maybe for some it is but sometimes letting go is what one needs. It's all about flying without a net.
My mother and I were talking about my aunt recently. She was one of the biggest, coldest bitches around. I still remember crying years ago when I found out that she was talking major shit about me around town. I didn't speak to her for a year. And then she got sick. And I forgave her everything and was her friend again. Going on three years and I still miss the hell out of her. Because for all her shit talking, the lady certainly knew how to have fun and to be the life of the party. That's what I want -- minus the cruel bitchiness.
As much as I love some of my friends, I feel like they are the wet towel on me. My Santa Cruz friend recently posted on Facebook about feeling pressured for years to not truly express herself and to give into the will of her peers. I like to think that by peers, she didn't mean me. I had a weird life in high school. I hung with the "outcasts" yet I was involved in student government. Back in those days I had a conversation with friends about not fitting in. They told me that I could be accepted if I wanted to. Probably. In some ways back then I was deeply wrapped up in making everyone happy so that I could get their approval at some level. But what I love most about my angst-filled teenage self was that once she got that approval, she was able to walk away. She firmly believed in unconditional love.
But I guess this is all the heart of the partygirl me -- having fun and caring yet not caring what people think. I think over the last couple of years there has been plenty of the second and not enough of the first. It's giving one's self to not be perfect at all times. Because really perfection is quite boring. And boring is something I never want to be. What's the quote? "Well behaved women never made history."
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Last weekend I held what I had hoped to be the first Derby de Mayo -- a blend of Cinco de Mayo and Derby Day. And of course I had meant to take photos of the food -- a blend of Mexican and Southern natch -- to post here but I got caught up in conversations. And then at the end of the evening I was kind of emotionally sideswiped. My last two guests in attendance, Emerald and Marin, decided to hold an intervention of sorts. "We think you've been drinking too much lately." Um, did you miss the partygirl memo? Sheesh. "And we think you should go to therapy." Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Really. Add up all my time over the years and I've done at least four to five years of therapy. As my last therapist told me about three years ago, I already have all the tools; I just have to give myself permission to use them. And sometimes sitting in the despair just feels kind of good while you're trying to figure things out. I awoke on Sunday emotionally drained. As such I slept most of the day -- literally. By Monday I was recharged and kind of pissed off. Pissed off is a good thing for me; it's where I find the energy to make change.
So now is about more change -- positive change. I joke about my nomadic soul. It comes from packing it in as a means of change. Now I'm working on how to stay in one place yet still effect change. It kind of helps that on Monday I received an unexpected cash infusion. After doing the responsible thing of paying some bills, I decided that I had some money for me. I have missed being a member of the Film Society but frankly it's rather pricy. So now I'm going to take some of this unexpected membership to join a museum in the East Bay that has lots of events. I figure that this will give me opportunities to meet new people. And I'll get reciprocal benefits at museums in San Francisco. A good thing since I still need to go see the expanded Balenciaga exhibit. I also found local ballet and jazz dance classes for adults at a reasonable price. I'm holding off on those until after I finish my month of boot camp in June. And today I upheld a previous commitment with Emerald to judge the science fair at her son's school. I was paired with a young woman who is new to the area. As it turns out, she is working for my father's previous employer. (And Bucko Ken's as well.) As we were leaving the fair, I asked if she would like to exchange phone numbers as she's new to the area and all. See? I'm good with this change thing.
The other good thing is that I finally had my piano tuned today. Thank you, Groupon. It's been years since I've made any kind of serious attempt at playing since I couldn't stand the sound of the thing. While the tuner said the piano was indeed severely out of tune (a half step), he was able to return it to a playable state. Love him. When I've called other tuners over the years, they have told me that it's an inexpensive model and I'd be better off buying a new one than trying to tune it. But this tuner got it. Upon seeing the piano, he asked, "It has sentimental value, doesn't it?" He also marveled that while it had lacked tuning for years, it had been well cared for. After he left, I sat down to attempt to play. My hands in the past had been rather stiff so I decided to go with what my hands knew best -- Beethoven's Fur Elise. I can still play nearly half of it from memory. It wasn't great but it wasn't completely horrid either. Now I need to locate my Chopin and Bach books. Maybe by the end of this year I can once more take stabs at Rachmaninoff. In the past playing the piano was one of my ways to relieve stress when I was feeling overwhelmed.
But I know. All this time you've been wondering about the photo. After the tuner left and before I attempted to play, I popped out to check on my mom's house. On my return, I stopped at The Brick Pig's House. The husband came out to take my order. The wife upon hearing my voice, came out from the kitchen and exclaimed, "You came back." I reminded her that I had told her on my last trip there that I had said I would return if all was as good as she promised. As I decided how much to order, I was asked how many I was feeding this time. "Still just me." The husband pointed to a photo on the wall of a young woman who had eaten an entire slab of ribs minus one in a single meal. "Why yes, there was a time in which I could have eaten an entire slab on my own." Now it sits like a challenge in the back of my mind.
I decided this time I needed a mix of the ribs as well as their brisket. Oh.My.God. My next trip there I may very well ask kind folks to adopt me. I have never in my life had brisket like that. It really did melt in the mouth as the folks on Yelp claimed. And to switch things up, I went with the blackberry cobbler instead of the peach. Reminded me of summers on my grandparents' farm.
Bottom line? In probably the best headspace in quite some time. Or at least I like to think so. Well once I finish dealing with payment for water damage to my place from upstairs unit.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Some days you wake up and think to yourself, "How did I end up here?" Now for most folks it would be the days of your partygirl time that would make them think this. But for you it's the days of "normalcy." Not that you're looking for drama, just something more.
Today you realized that beyond Facebook and your inconsistent blogging, the only means of positive human contact upon which you can count are the delivery people -- the postal carrier, UPS, FedEx, GSO -- you see each day at work.
Once upon a time family members were sick and/or dying. You checked out on everything else for the most part. And then the day came that you were ready to re-enter the world at large only to discover your "life" was gone. This is the argument you have given to family members regarding your dad. "I simply can't go back there because it will be all about him and I will lose myself along the way all over again." But it's too late; you're already lost.
So now you try to figure out how to get out of the hole you've dug for yourself. If you were still renting, the answer would be simple. Pack up and move. Start again. But it's not so easy now. Then again, hasn't this always been your answer? Pack up and move on instead of sticking around and figuring out a way to make it all work?
And please don't suggest going to church. So not the scene around here.