Go Your Own Way

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S came to visit last night. Talk talk talk talk. She would ask a question and I would say “well, that’s a whole ‘nother story!” On and on, catching up.
Somehow we got on the subject of letting go of friends. This is something that has come up for me a few times. BubbleGum mentioned “letting go of toxic relationships” in a blog about plane crashes (October 29, 2006 if you are interested), Klein went on a multi-blog rant about the friends she has Let Go (February 12, 2007 is the first one). Those of you who read my other blog know I went through a friend purge almost two years ago. (wow. has it really been that long?) Maybe if I get gutsy I’ll repost that Dear John letter.
This time we talked about not a purge, not a letting go, but rather a slipping away. There was a definite break in the friendship and how it all came about saddened me, for sure, but I guess I never really thought about the finality of it all. It didn’t occur to me it was the end of the end of the end. I guess I always assumed something would come up and we would talk again. Something in common would bring us back together instead of keep us apart. Or something. Yet, like a candle going out our friendship quietly silently darkened and the wisps of memory faded away to nothing. Now you seem ’em, now you don’t. I don’t know which disturbs me more – the fact that I didn’t notice or the realization that I didn’t care.
Even when a brief conversation renewed our communication I felt nothing. It was if I talked to a stranger and was waiting for familiarity to show up. Something that would link the word “friend” to this face. Nothing.Do we grow apart because we can? Does it happen so easily because secretly we never liked them in the first place? I don’t think that’s what happened here. What is the opposite of falling in love? That time when the more you know the more you don’t love?

We dreamed of ’57 chevies and rock and roll guitars. We chewed grape bubblegum and swigged orange soda. We wore bandannas on our ankles and hearts on our sleeves. Eye shadow was blue and sneakers pink. When the candle of friendship was snuffed out no one had a match. Go your own way.

Last Phish

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Dear You,
In honor of Jon I post this pic. I didn’t write my traditional dear you last night because S and I stayed talking until latelate. It was good to catch up although I think I have a sore throat now from blah-blahing so much. The live broadcast was interesting.
I’m starting the morning slow and sluggish. I can’t remember my dreams. The cat puked. Twice. The crib is together and mom made mention on the internet.
It snowed last night. Wasn’t expecting that. Funny how I said I wanted rain or snow and I got both in one day. Be careful what you wish for.
I never told you about the meeting with the VP. When you said you were high in the mountains I took you at your word. So to speak. But, it went well in that fingers pressed together – hmmmm- nodding in agreement but not really listening way. I’m sure he means well but I’m still skeptical.
Tonight is dinner with A. I never did figure out mom’s Tivo request so the TV hasn’t come on once. Ahab has set sail so I keep on reading.
Not much else to tell you. Thought I had to say something to avoid nothing.
love, me

Peta

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Peta = People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals.Peta

Yesterday they sent me a survey. Stuck to the survey was a fake sticky note from “Ingrid.” Designed to look like a last minute message in blue “friendly” font it read, “you have been chosen to take part in a critical national referendum. Please read this ballot and return it within 10 days. Ingrid” Thanks, Ingrid. The wiseazz in me wants to send the survey back blank with a sticky that reads, “Ingrid, I followed your instructions to the letter. I read the ballot and am sending it back.” But, I can’t do that. I can’t be that sarcastic to an organization I admire.
Back in the day my favorite place to shop for bath products was the Body Shop. I liked the “this product was not tested on animals” sticker on every bottle. I liked that it was a grass roots organization that fostered trade with third world countries. Recycled bottles, handmade Tibetan paper, banana hair masks. It all seemed so back-to-basics good, earthy and wholesome. Until I learned they sold out and the company went corporate. I didn’t trust the labels anymore.
I think I’m schizophrenic because I don’t wear fur, yet I eat meat. And when it comes to testing on animals I like to play devil’s advocate. We want scientific advances for evil things like cancer. We want cures that are 100%. We need to be able to test our scientific breakthroughs to make sure they really do work. I know testing on animals is cruel, but would you rather they strap down your 80 year old blind grandpa? What the hey, he’s gonna die anyway. Save the puppy! Grandpa a bit much? How about testing on your two year old instead!

Okay. I know I being cruel. There’s a commerical running right now about protecting animals against cruelty and everytime I see it my heart breaks. I want to run out and adopt every abused animal out there. But, researchers are caught between a rock and a hard place. I honestly don’t believe testing on cute and fuzzies happens because they’re all Dahmers inside. Yes, we are learning more about testing on cultures of human cells and the organs of donors but if you were dying of cancer would you trust this babynew research?
But, that’s only one side of the story. If researchers are testing for allergens to cosmetics, cleaning products or even worse, military warfare I am dead set against using animals. Go find the Dahmers of society and put them to good use. Seriously.

ps~ True to nonprofit form Peta sent me mailing labels and asked me to donate.
For more information about Peta, go here.

Climate of Treason

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Climate of TreasonBoyle, Andrew. The Climate of Treason. London: Hutchinson, 1982.

Maybe it was a bad idea to read Treason at the same time as Children of the Souls: A Tragedy of the First World War. I started to get the accounts confused when Treason started mentioning Cambridge and All Souls. Of course there would be overlap. Of course there would be similarities. Both take place during World War I, after all. What I didn’t expect what the recruitment of Cambridge students. But, even that should have made sense to me. Soviets would want intellectuals for their spies. The smart boys.
Treason does have funny moments in between the seriousness of Communism and spying. One such spy was subject to a shake down and described the moment as thus, “all three men made a dive for it, spreadeagling themselves across the table. Confronted by three pairs of buttocks, I scooped the scrap of paper out of my trousers, a crunch and a swallow, and it was gone” (p 155). I could picture the moment and had a good laugh out of it.
Something I hadn’t considered before reading Treason  was the duality of a spy’s life. A “controlled schizophrenia” (p.190). To avoid detection, to be as underground as possible, the outside world must view the traitor’s political thinkings, cultural ideals and patriotic enthusiasm to be on par with their own. The traitor has to exert enough energy to convince both sides he is on their side and their side alone.

BookLust Twist: From Book Lust in the ever-funny chapter “Spies and Spymasters: The Really Real Unreal World of Intelligence” (p 223).

Smirk

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Dear You,

I call today Shakespeare. A tragedy and comedy all rolled up in one. Work was good, for once. Isn’t it funny that the moneymaker is an okay place to be?
I came home to the crib. Or not. I think Papa tried and untried a gazillion times. He finally gave up claiming fatigue. I can’t blame him. He banged your mother on the head with a power drill (she’s fine). We’ll try again tomorrow.
I was accused of trying to burn the house down. See, it’s like this. I wanted to use the smoker again. Turkey burgers done up in hickory and homemade barbecue. Doesn’t that sound good? No standing in front of the fridge eating cottage cheese from the container; pickles from the jar; fingers sticky and cold. I wanted a real meal complete with baked beans and cheddar cheese. The smoker, well, it smokes. Your dad wanted to know why the smoke detector didn’t go off…oops…busted. He shook a finger at me and I swear I heard a tsk, tsk in there.
Indy is still crying. She claims you left her for Maggie. I told her I didn’t think she was your type but still she carries on.
Me, even though it’s only 9pm I’m going to bed. I’ve discovered diagonal isn’t that bad. I don’t ditch the sheet either.
Tell Johnny I think his queso story is bunk and that Chipotle still rules the planet. Hang onto that cell phone and call soon.
love, me

What the Diamond Said

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I found a diamond earring I thought was past missing and had moved onto completely and utterly gone.
Later she mentioned her own mortality in a casual tone, “I think I have 10-15 years left.” Standing on the other side of young and talking old. Unnatural to consider at her age. I didn’t consider and was unnecessarily cruel. I agreed with her. Yup. 10-15 years. The conversation we must have – I was not having any of it. The conversation I dreaded was on my doorstep but I was in denial. Can’t we talk about this later? If not now, then when? Is there an easy way to discuss this?  

I found a diamond earring completely gone. It glittered on the carpet, winking at me to notice.
Save me before I’m sucked up. Save me so you can see me again. Place me in a box named Cherished and don’t hand me down or hand anywhere. Place me in your ear and learn to sleep on your other side. For good. Forever. For I am the gift of your mother. I am the symbol of pride as she fussed and fidgeted with your hood seconds before marching. I am unrelenting love. Unspoken mother’s love.

10-15. She said 10-15. They say diamonds are forever. Not so when lost in the carpet underfoot. Pride from a parent is permanent. Love is everlasting. Wear it well.

Rocking

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Dear You,
It’s only 9 something pm but I think my head will find the pillow soon. Things are fine. I gorged on tons of TV until my hand fell asleep from changing channels. I think I like this rule the remote thing. Your mother-in-law called – wanted to talk about the house. I suppose it needs to happen sometime, right? Your daughter is bitchy. Says I’m not fooling anyone as she sniffs around for the body. I swear I didn’t kill you but she just won’t believe me. Call soon so I can put her on the phone. I’ve been in communication with your parents. We slide notes back and forth under the door. Rent is due, crib is ready when you are. Okay, I made that first part up but I’ll write a check anyway.
By the way, the rice cooker isn’t broken. I’m just an idiot. And. The chocolate raspberry sauce works on graham crackers.
Speaking of food – how was that burrito? You better bring me back one – make that two. One for both hands. I can handle it. Tell the boys I said hi.
love, me
ps~ No hot air balloon ride. Sorry.

With Indifference

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I think I’m overtired because this is how I feel. Sideways. Leaning back in my not there chair, almost on the way down. I’ve been this way all morning. Maybe it’s the daytime hue. The gray outside my window flattens and dulls every other color. Brick isn’t a shade of red but rather an ugly brown. Trees look more dead black than living green. They are neutral colors to the point of washed out blah. My senses are flat-lined and bored. 1pm looks just the same as 8am did. The path of the sun has been invisible, sulky and sullen just like me, myself & moi. I wish it would rain. I’m the type of person who wants a reason for the weather. The cold without snow, clouds without rain – they seem pointless. I need purpose. It’s hard to be motivated in the face of such indifference.

I will go home and put on the nanooks. I’ll close the blinds against the colorless sky. Maybe make some tea. Try my hand at rice. Again. Eat it right out of the bowl with parmesan and butter, salt and pepper. I won’t think about the streaks on the window I can’t seem to rub out and watch tv instead. I’ll rule the remote until I realize I’m lonely and it’s not fun anymore. Inevitably, I’ll end up talking to the cat. Together, we’ll count down the days until kisa comes home.

Lip balm Laughter

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lipbalmThis weekend has turned out to be one of the most unexpected best. I have to give public thanks to my amazing friend Ruby. She rescued me Friday evening and helped me forget about my current hypertension life. She asked about old dramas that have eased into that We-Can-Laugh-About-It-Now phase. I relived foofaraw and FEFFFF and giggled over the stupidity of it all. Men in bear suits, Jesus on a telephone pole, jars of mayonnaise, Easter forgotten, swinging walkers and can you rearrange your whole studio to meet MY needs? Probably my favorite moment was visiting an old haunt, tripping down a memory lane of scents, trying to avoid the overpushy saleslady, and being chided for not buying lip balm. Kisa and Ruby know me that well. They’ll say I Told You So but I can’t stop thinking about what I didn’t get so I’m going back for a tube or two!

Kisa & I spent Saturday night wandering Northampton – we zipped into Different Drummer for a cookbook stand and a flexi cutting board (kisa is so smart), eating yummy pizza (it’s a tradition now!) and listening to Rebecca Correia and Kyle Spark at Bishops. They are so good together! I almost remembered the entire setlist:Rebecca Correia

  • Greatest Mistake? – a new song I haven’t heard before
  • Miss You – easily one of my favorites
  • Better Day – I always want to call this one ‘Rain’
  • Quiet Hands – I shed a small tear for “our” first dance song. I love it!
  • On Your Way Down – I thought Rebecca would tell the story but she didn’t
  • For the Taking – my favorite Kyle and Rebecca duo song. They sound great together!
  • Walking Back – definitely one she needs to perform more
  • Sarah’s Song – I love the line about the Chinese buffet
  • Gin – this one always gets people. Kyle’s solo is kickazz!
  • ? – I don’t remember this one. Something new? Something unfamiliar?
  • No apologies – another one I need to hear more often

My glass of Merlot lasted all night. It went well with the amazing music. Rebecca talked about the Miss You cd release party she’s having in Florida (at Virgin). After six years we are all anxious for the new music we have heard so much about. She joked that if we didn’t come to Florida we would have to buy Miss You on the Internet. Very funny.
After the show we talked about a hometown cd release party. I’ll see what I can do about rallying the troops when the time comes. Time to party!

Mine All Mine

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I need to claim April as my month. The once cruelest month needs to be my saving grace. I am mourning the loss of so many things. Physical, mental, spiritual, individual. All gone for better or worse.

Yet, I have so many things to look forward to in April. My family, for one. I haven’t hosted their laughter in so long, and in some cases, never. We’ve had the carpets professionally cleaned, the couches dumped and the vents sucked out. We’ve only just begun. I’ve cleaned out of necessity. I want to cook out of love.
4/4 is my chance to speak my mind. A chance to be heard. Will it stand up to the powers that be? Will it matter in the grand scheme of things? The answer will dictate Should I Stay. The answer will determine the direction of my sails.
4/27 seems so far away. Lights, camera, action seemed like a dream but with every passing day reality is creeping in. I firmly believe in helping out those I truly love and this is no exception. Kisa is the driving force behind this venture and I couldn’t be more blessed.
April also brings a reunion of sorts. I almost want to hold my breath for fear of it not happening. We have promised togetherness for years but every assurance sounds more hollow than the last. I want to see him yet I’m afraid of what won’t be.
Now and Zen Yoga has moved to the new location and I’m anxious to start over in the world of yoga. With a couch propped in the back room I haven’t had room to move the way I want to. April is the month to get back into the studio.
Knitting classes also start in April. Will I be a dolt with sharp objects? I think if I handled a chef’s knife okay I can handle a knitting needle. Make that two.

April is my month.

Couch Killer

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We killed this couch last weekend. We will kill another one this weekend. What makes us so vicious with the furniture? New beginnings, maybe? Sad endings, perhaps? Indy doesn’t have anything to perch on anymore. I hope it’s not a sad beginning.

I’m contemplating not going to see sirsy tomorrow night. I don’t get the email newsletter anymore, gifts are untaken (my own word, so sue me) and sweet songs are still so sad. It’s like there is an uncaring for the awkward. It’s all unwanted. Maybe I’m not. In truth, I have missed a friend and would rather have dinner with her than try to navigate a menu of fried fat. I don’t want to be fake. I thought about making another attempt at an invite, but I know I will be ignored. Head in the sand I don’t want to deal and can’t bear to feel. Letting Go of you.

We killed couches for the sake of moving on. The new model folds out to recline and sleep. In that order. Recline and sleep. I like the new model for it’s wide arms and hidden spaces. Life goes on.

A is for Alibi

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Grafton, Sue. A is for Alibi. New York: Henry Holt & Co., Inc. 1982.

My mother-in-law was surprised to see me reading a Sue Grafton mystery. Mysteries have never been my thing. I don’t think she was convinced even when I explained that it was a Book Lust recommendation. I kept saying things like “I have to…” and “it’s on my list…” and still I got the skeptical stare. I’ve decided to loan her my “lists” in other words, my Lust books because I also have to read the F & Q books from Grafton.

I was struck by how much I have in common with Kinsey Millhone, Grafton’s main character. She dedicates Sundays to herself. I used to dedicate Friday with the same to do list: “laundry, housecleaning, grocery shopping. I even shaved my legs to show that I still had some class.” (p82) Kinsey runs even though she’s not good at it. She has conversations with her body when she runs. Me, too – although I could call mine arguments and not conversations. She’s big on breakfast. She drives fast. She even feels the same way I do about dogs if not plants. “I don’t know a lot about houseplants, but when all the green things turn brown, I’d take that as a hint.” (p. 33) Me, I’m a plant person. I may kill one or two along the way but if one dies I consider it suicide, taking one for the team.

Seriously, similarities aside I liked Sue Grafton’s first “alphabet” mystery. Kinsey is cool, as she should be. The mystery she was trying to solve had all the important gun on the table elements: murders, clues, infidelities, suspicions, low lifes, and more sex. My only disappointment? I had the culprit picked out before the end. Why? He was too good to be true.

BookLust Twist: Pearl has a huge mystery list in Book Lust. A is for Alibi comes from the chapter called, I Love a Mystery” (p 117).

Jumping Off

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I think about suicide from time to time. When I said this to my boss he looked me in the eye and solomnly said “we all do.” He didn’t try to patronize me and talk me out of something considered. He knew what I meant. I have respect for people like that.

Right now I am considering suicide of a different nature. I think by even writing this I risk decapitation of some sort. I want to jump off this career track and lay myself down in the way of the oncoming train of change.
What do you do when you find out your organization isn’t supported, barely acknowledged? What do you do when your values are scoffed at, swept under the rug? The writing is on the wall. The truth is in black and white for everyone to read and I don’t know what to do. Really don’t.

My contract is up in June. I promised kisa I would open the newspaper to the section I haven’t looked at in over six years. I promised him I would update the resume and who cares that the ink has even’t dried on the word “director”?

There is a part of me that wants to fight. Fight like hell. We have a good group. If we work together couldn’t we beat Goliath at his own game? Why shouldn’t we try? Or what about this – why can’t I play the Darwin game and try to survive on my own? Band with the enemy and take ’em all out? I’ve only been playing this game for three years. Before that I was a bit player, a volunteer. Who’s to say I can’t switch teams and go public? So many questions. No answers.

For now, all I want to do is jump. Suicide.

From Start to Finish

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From start to finish it was an all Good Night. Good food. Good company. Good music. Good drinks. Good plans. Good night. Where should I start? Kisa and I arrived at the factory not knowing what to expect. How do I explain this? I was more than excited to hear my favorite heartbeat, see my favorite couple, have a night out with my one and only favorite man. We interrupted sound check inadvertently. We had time to sit for dinner. The first thing I spotted when we were seated was a giant SpeakEasyExtravaganza poster. Huge. I entertained thoughts of stealing it. Fantasized about where it would go on my wall. I would have sacrificed Natalie for Soul Session for sure.
The music. Where do I even start about the music? Sean Rowe is amazing. I absolutely adore his voice. I was mesmerized by how much sound he and his guitar could put out. They were locked in harmony. I wanted him to sing all night long…well, if Greg could join him! My only disappointment? Wondering if I missed ‘Snake in the Grass’. All night I thought about it. (We came up late.) We ended up buying a cd so I would eventually hear my favorite SR song…twice. I didn’t know I would enjoy Sean as much as I did (even though Brian said I would)…so now I’m going to watch Sean’s tour schedule to try to see him more often. At least more often than once. I wonder if he’ll ever get out my way?

Then came Soul Session. It was a SS I have never seen or heard before. Back up singers…two keyboards…sax and flute…all new faces. All new sound. I didn’t hear my favorite cover, ‘Is You Is’ and I missed Greg’s first mini solo, but I had a great time just the same. It was a real party atmosphere (“bringing classy back”) – people dressed up, food, fancy drinks, candy, free stuff (kisa and I both got shirts and shot glasses) glitter dance floor, strobe lights and not a place to sit – every table packed. I decided my favorite moments were 1) not one but three men banging drums with Sean singing, 2) Night and Day (done right) and 3) being with the coolest people ever. I wish I had a setlist. I had moments during every song that sparked me one way or another. From pants-splitting special guests to Sade there was something to remember. I could have stayed all night.

Even better? Talking about filming. Drum beats. Foot prints. Cymbal smashing. I want it all. It was a good night. From start to finish.