Who hasn’t seen Tom Hank’s classic film and portrayal of Josh in “Big?” If you haven’t seen this movie, then we can’t even be friends. It’s a personal favorite and still makes me laugh and cry.
Have you ever had that moment where you wake up and you’re not the same as you were the day before? Or let me ask this, did you just wake up one day and be grown up? It’s terrifying!
Granted, I didn’t go to bed thirteen and wake up 26 but still. I think I’m officially a grown up. Don’t know how I got there. I was a late bloomer for sure, in every sense of the word. My mom let me have sports bras because all the other 12 year olds were getting boobs and mine weren’t even noticeable. I played with my American Girl dolls until I was 14. I loved dressing them for holidays. My first date and my first boyfriend weren’t until I was 16. The all the sudden I became the adult in many situations and fully took responsibility for all of my choices, no matter how stupid, but I was and probably still am, a total kid at heart.
I’ve been a nanny for 14 years of my life because of this. Being child-like is so much better. I still get giddy at Universal Studios and Disney World and I still have “toys.” My favorite stuffed animal is still in my bed. I love making crafts and coloring in coloring books. I got married and learned what love actually was at 24 after living with him first. I waited until I was 21 to get a credit card. I had a serious savings account at 22 and I’m still not quite ready for babies. Hell, we just committed to a dog! We pay rent, we’ve never bought a new car and we don’t buy ridiculous things. We have credit card debt but it’s under $5,000 so I think we’re okay.
But yesterday, the grown up-ness happened. Today I woke up and I had the “Big” scenario. I’d just spoken to my best friend the other night about how we’ve made these conscious choices and then we kind of become victims of our circumstance. I told her that we choose this one path and end up wandering on it then think, “How did I get here?” It’s like those late night drives where you can’t really remember how you got home.
My husband has been seriously wrestling with job things. He toyed with the idea of school but it just costs too much and in his words, he didn’t “bust his ass,” for all of these years to start from scratch. He’s a chef, and he’s got an epic resume. He came to a crossroads in his career and finally has the opportunity he’s been wanting. Either way, we are in a far better position than we have been. His hard work has paid off! But yesterday he was given an opportunity he just can’t pass up and he had a serious discussion about our future with me.
We have these fun dreams and fantasies. We want to live on the same street that the family I worked as a nanny for all those years lives on so they can help raise our babies. But then my Dad has this amazing acreage in Oregon just ripe for a kick-ass house, so we want my architectural genius of an Uncle to design it, with Eben’s dream kitchen of course! And then we’ll turn that property into a commune of some sort where all of our friends have little cabins here and there. But I also still want to make one more crazy move to a big city, and travel in Europe. Basically I want to win the lottery!
So my husband levels with me and says, “Look, I know that you want to move back to Oregon in a few years but I need to take this opportunity and if I do you need to be okay with us waiting a little longer.” At my opposing look he interjected, “Not forever, but a bit longer.” The bargaining began. He starts telling me he wants us to be able to get another car and buy a house while the market is cheap so we can sell it later and make money off of it.
Hey, I’m a rent kind of girl! I love me a fabulous apartment. I love moving around, finding new areas. A house is a house. Once you are in, you are in! And we had never talked about buying a house down here. I was taken aback. I mean I just wanted a new car, new computer, flat screen TV and vacation time that won’t bankrupt us but he was talking the big time here!
He said the new opportunity included benefit and I heard “babies!” So I say, “If you keep me here you need to understand that I want to start trying to have a baby in a year and a half. I want my baby to grow up in Oregon so my plan for the future may intersect with yours and move on without you. You have to let me fly home and look for houses and keep the moving forward thing happening even if we are here for a handful more of years. I will follow you but you have to be going where I am in the long run.”
Real benefits, real health insurance, means a real life. Doctors appointments, new glasses for my man, dental care, everything you dream about having when you hit 23 and you can’t mooch off of your parents for it anymore. This meant that having children wouldn’t have to wait forever and ever. The non-health insurance thing was the only birth control we had at this point. Benefits opened a whole new door!
We must have hashed this out for an hour and then we agreed. He had to jump on this. We both did. There is no question. And I woke up this morning and thought…wow. He’s going to want to look at houses. We are going to have to move to a new place closer to work to make things more convenient this fall and then we are going to go car shopping. We are going to be making real money and have real health benefits. We are going to be stable and then some.
I immediately became excited. We will be able to pay off the credit card and get the things I’ve been wanting so much. At first when he muttered “Buy a house,” I shrugged. As if I don’t clean enough space in the apartment! But then I thought, we can paint things, we can pick out real furniture, we can really make a home. We’d never had that chance before and it will be coming to us by the time the world ends in 2012, haha!
I woke up this morning and felt like I’d gone from 18 to 26 with new realities and responsibilities. It was a strange, yet awesome feeling. Although nothing is set in stone yet, it’s like bottled promise. The promise of a kind of life I’d thought was a far off reality. Even though I still got a little fantastical with it all, I found myself looking at new apartment and even home listings just because the dream would be becoming a reality.
So maybe I didn’t have to move to NYC and get a job with no skills and the mind of a 13 year old, but I did have to grow up and make some serious decisions with the man I love determining the path the Chriss’s would be taking. Maybe in 6 years I won’t remember how we got there, maybe these conscious choices won’t be what I expected at all, but at least, for now, I’m ready to get into the game a grow up…a little. I’ll still have my stuffed animals with me along the way, and I’ll still get excited to go to the theme parks, but at least I’ll enter the world of adulthood, bills, and responsibilities knowing I can kick its ass just like I’ve done with most everything else!
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
An Acoustic Evening With Matisyahu
Following the Tampa Bay Jewish Film festival at the historic Tampa Theater, Matisyahu made a brief appearance before his set at 7:30pm. The Hasidic Jewish reggae musician attracted quite the following and the sold out show was definitely a testament to his wide and avid fan base.
The Tampa Theater was entirely appropriate for the evening. The setting was romantic and intimate, relaxed and calming. Accompanied by guitarist Adam Weinberg, the stage setup was simple with just a stool, a chair, a guitar, a mic and a few amps and speakers.
There was no opener, just Matisyahu and Adam Weinberg for a few hours on a Sunday evening. They opened with a song called “Sunshine,” a relatively new and unrecorded piece and the crowd welcomed it, grooving along with each note. His beat-boxing combined with melodic phrases and slam-poetry like lyrics is hypnotizing both visually and aurally. The audience just gazed peacefully and pensively at Matisyahu just waiting for the evening to unfold.
Dressed in sneakers, jeans, a plaid button-down shirt and a gray sweatshirt, Matisyahu was at ease as he sang another newer song, “Open the gates.” The aura was spiritual in every aspect and the storytelling through music was powerful, to say the least. His prosaic, rhythmical and faithful lyrics were inspiring and extremely calming. Through each song it’s amazing how it doesn’t feel like he’s preaching at all, instead it just feels like he’s sharing his awesome faith throughout his lyrical mazes.
His beautiful and fluid voice filled the theater, and when he transitioned into beat box sections all eyes were drawn to watch him construct such amazing rhythms. It was hard to believe all that was coming out of just one man. His mannerisms and movements proved the music was pulsating through his entire body. His concentration, control and precision with the music he was playing were captivating.
Keeping the vibe even more comfortable and tranquil, he’d banter with fans and completely interact with everything and everyone. He was real on stage, which isn’t something you can say about every artist you see onstage. He was uninhibited and personable. They broke in between the set to answer questions and get to know his fans. He told great family, tour, and life stories that made him even more charming, if possible.
The communication between Matisyahu and Ben Weinberg was as entertaining to watch as the music itself. Weinberg could literally finish his phrases, well his musical phrases that it, just by watching Matisyahu’s gestures and facial expressions. Their chemistry onstage was unique and made for an amazing set.
The best way to describe the evening would have to be, “Zen,” or at least, zen-like. It was enlightening and spiritual in every aspect. When you listen to Matisyahu, his passion transcends through his music as it is, but watching it unfold live is an entirely different experience, in the best way. There was a point when he was harmonizing and he said, “See I could sit on this all day, because it feels so good.” He sang this stunning array of notes, strung together making an amazing melody and then asked, “See, what I mean?” The crowd nodded, implying that we felt it too.
He admitted that at shows sometimes he would say things and know that when he watched them later on YouTube, he’d think, “Man, I’m an idiot.” He poked fun at the crowd and had fun with everyone there. He said he didn’t really drink but, “I like shitty, cheap, beer, excuse me.” The entire theater laughed as he asked for someone to acquire that quality of beer.
During the second and last conversational part of the evening he admitted that beat boxing was the thing he used to do when he cut class. That’s was kids were doing so he did it too. “I never had the focus to sit down and learn an instrument,” confessed Matisyahu. They closed the evening after all the amusing, silly and even strange communications with the audience with “One Day,” “Silence,” “Chop ‘Em Down,” and “So Hi, So Lo.”
The acoustic evening with Matisyahu was truly a moving and spiritual show. He made you feel like you were along on the musical journey with him. It was such a calming and enjoyable experience. His connection with god is as inspiring as his music. He’s an amazing singer, great lyricist, tremendous performer and awe-inspiring soul. Those of us at the Tampa Theater on Sunday feel lucky to have shared his presence and were definitely awakened by the performance. If spending the end of your weekend with Matisyahu isn’t a magnificent way to start the week, I’m not sure I know what is!
The Tampa Theater was entirely appropriate for the evening. The setting was romantic and intimate, relaxed and calming. Accompanied by guitarist Adam Weinberg, the stage setup was simple with just a stool, a chair, a guitar, a mic and a few amps and speakers.
There was no opener, just Matisyahu and Adam Weinberg for a few hours on a Sunday evening. They opened with a song called “Sunshine,” a relatively new and unrecorded piece and the crowd welcomed it, grooving along with each note. His beat-boxing combined with melodic phrases and slam-poetry like lyrics is hypnotizing both visually and aurally. The audience just gazed peacefully and pensively at Matisyahu just waiting for the evening to unfold.
Dressed in sneakers, jeans, a plaid button-down shirt and a gray sweatshirt, Matisyahu was at ease as he sang another newer song, “Open the gates.” The aura was spiritual in every aspect and the storytelling through music was powerful, to say the least. His prosaic, rhythmical and faithful lyrics were inspiring and extremely calming. Through each song it’s amazing how it doesn’t feel like he’s preaching at all, instead it just feels like he’s sharing his awesome faith throughout his lyrical mazes.
His beautiful and fluid voice filled the theater, and when he transitioned into beat box sections all eyes were drawn to watch him construct such amazing rhythms. It was hard to believe all that was coming out of just one man. His mannerisms and movements proved the music was pulsating through his entire body. His concentration, control and precision with the music he was playing were captivating.
Keeping the vibe even more comfortable and tranquil, he’d banter with fans and completely interact with everything and everyone. He was real on stage, which isn’t something you can say about every artist you see onstage. He was uninhibited and personable. They broke in between the set to answer questions and get to know his fans. He told great family, tour, and life stories that made him even more charming, if possible.
The communication between Matisyahu and Ben Weinberg was as entertaining to watch as the music itself. Weinberg could literally finish his phrases, well his musical phrases that it, just by watching Matisyahu’s gestures and facial expressions. Their chemistry onstage was unique and made for an amazing set.
The best way to describe the evening would have to be, “Zen,” or at least, zen-like. It was enlightening and spiritual in every aspect. When you listen to Matisyahu, his passion transcends through his music as it is, but watching it unfold live is an entirely different experience, in the best way. There was a point when he was harmonizing and he said, “See I could sit on this all day, because it feels so good.” He sang this stunning array of notes, strung together making an amazing melody and then asked, “See, what I mean?” The crowd nodded, implying that we felt it too.
He admitted that at shows sometimes he would say things and know that when he watched them later on YouTube, he’d think, “Man, I’m an idiot.” He poked fun at the crowd and had fun with everyone there. He said he didn’t really drink but, “I like shitty, cheap, beer, excuse me.” The entire theater laughed as he asked for someone to acquire that quality of beer.
During the second and last conversational part of the evening he admitted that beat boxing was the thing he used to do when he cut class. That’s was kids were doing so he did it too. “I never had the focus to sit down and learn an instrument,” confessed Matisyahu. They closed the evening after all the amusing, silly and even strange communications with the audience with “One Day,” “Silence,” “Chop ‘Em Down,” and “So Hi, So Lo.”
The acoustic evening with Matisyahu was truly a moving and spiritual show. He made you feel like you were along on the musical journey with him. It was such a calming and enjoyable experience. His connection with god is as inspiring as his music. He’s an amazing singer, great lyricist, tremendous performer and awe-inspiring soul. Those of us at the Tampa Theater on Sunday feel lucky to have shared his presence and were definitely awakened by the performance. If spending the end of your weekend with Matisyahu isn’t a magnificent way to start the week, I’m not sure I know what is!
Sunday, February 13, 2011
La, a friend to follow close! (If anyone gets that alliteration they get extra points!)
When you make a promise in third grade that you will be best friends forever, and that you will be each other’s maid of honor no matter what, as you grow up, you start thinking that promise will hardly stick, even if you did pinky swear. But with some friendships it sticks. They, being the friendships, stick, and those are the ones that keep you going in life.
They said it best and she quoted it even better when she was my maid of honor in June 2009, and she said, “You have so many relationships in this life, but only one or two will last.” Ah, yes, we live and love Hanson. That band represents our BFF-hood in so many ways.
But let’s go back to the beginning. I don’t even remember our first play date. I know we met in third grade. We both went to a Catholic school to get the education we deserved but neither of us were true “Catholics.” I think the first day we knew we were friends for real was on a “dress down” day (aka no uniform) when we both ended up wearing the same colors in a slightly different way on “Mismatch Day.” I was wearing a pink t-shirt and red shorts and she was wearing a red t-shirt and pink shorts or some kind of strange combination of the violently bright, opposing colors. Everyone said all day that we had to have planned it, otherwise how could we have ended up like that? But we didn’t plan it, not even remotely. That was the beauty of it, the beauty of us.
We nicknamed each other at some point. Being a wordy, spelling freak from the beginning I noticed how her mom shortened her name on her lunch box and in notes but she did it “grammatically incorrect” (according to me!) We laughed about how nicknames were always the beginning of names instead of the end of names. Therefore, she became “La” and I became “Ison.” We still sign cards to each other that way.
Play dates were always a challenge for us. I lived a half an hour away and it was a pain for her parents to transport. Mine didn’t mind but it definitely took a lot of planning. Now that I look back I’m pretty sure our mothers had distaste for each other. La’s mom was an awesome woman who didn’t take crap from anyone. Mine was a loud, in your face, erratic control freak that made things her way or the high way. Regardless, every time we got together to play we had some serious adventures.
We made music videos, we listened to Hanson, and made posters for them. We played with toys, played outdoors, made up silly little inside jokes that were just ours. I think we each admired what the other had. My house was packed with new toys that I didn’t have to share. La’s house was filled with toys that she had to share with dozens because her parents owned and ran a daycare out of their place. My house was quiet, hers was very much not. But I loved her house! She had junk food I didn’t even know existed! She had white bread (which I ate whole loaves of I swear) which had no nuts in it and even the crust was delicious. She had a super Nintendo and great games and a million activities to do all around her. La even lived by my play date “rules:” Since it was my house and my toys, we got to do what I wanted to do and at her house, since I was the guest, we got to do what I wanted to do. How can you pass up a friend like that!
After all these years and all the shit we’ve been through, these are the things that made us the friends that we are. So, however, is all the bullshit. Right between ages 12 and 15 we both lost our mothers. La, in a completely and far more tragic way. When I lost mine it was more mental and spiritual, and La’s mother left the earthly world.
Just like I will never forget the day my dad changed my life with the news of my mother’s lies and problems, I will never forget the day I found out La’s mom passed away. I was home sick and the high school principal called. My dad was vacuuming and I thought I was somehow in trouble for having too many sick days. My dad didn’t even hear me when I said that it was the principle and answered “who is this?” to the person on the other line. I stood there watching and my dad’s face turned to despair and he said “oh my, no. Okay, we’ll take care of it.”
He told me La’s parents were in a terrible car accident, her dad was badly injured and her amazing mother hadn’t made it. I cried and instantly just needed to be with La. She looked so tired when we got to her, like she could never sleep again. Her little brother just looked numb and shocked, not knowing what to think. Random family members I’d never even heard of were everywhere suggesting things and telling us what to do. One thing was for sure: these kids needed sleep.
Somehow my dad and I ended up taking La to the doctor. He asked her a bunch of ridiculous questions about her health history and why she needed help sleeping, why she was anxious, what was going on. It was then my dad pulled the doctor aside and verbally assaulted his stupidity saying something to the effect of, “This poor child just lost her mother and her dad is in the hospital. She doesn’t need to be harassed and asked all these stupid questions, she needs to sleep so let’s get her something so she can do that, OKAY!?”
My only method of consoling her in the weeks after was to make sure she had Hanson’s new release because to us, Hanson healed everything. The girls at school rallied to pray for her and I remember thinking, she doesn’t need prayers or fake friends, she needs to just not be alone and have someone just be there with her. Everyone went on “help La” patrol and it seriously annoyed me. She just needed to find her way…and she did, she has. La’s too amazing of a woman to stay down even when life kicks the shit out of you.
During all of this my mom was in an out, all over the place and I couldn’t even tell La what was really happening. It was “the family’s business” only and we couldn’t hurt the family name by advertising my mother’s bad decisions and mistakes. But every once in awhile we could just look at each other and know that there was some kind of secret level of understanding between us. We were always comfortable with each other, never judged each other or became mean, catty, or critical. We never even really fought.
High school was bad enough. Add in the mama drama and it just became ridiculous. We both got robbed of our teen-hood in different ways. I had to be an adult and let nothing bother me, act as though my life was regular and perfect. La had to grow up, move on and go back to life as if it was the same as before, and it wasn’t. I can’t even imagine everything she went through and we didn’t talk about it too much. We didn’t have to talk to know what was going on sometimes. Our friends wanted me to “save her,” but she didn’t need saving. She needed to just “be.”
We grew, operated with different friends, slightly different groups but always had each other. About a year after losing her mother, I had the chance to reclaim mine. My mother had gotten her life together enough to where I could try and have a mother again. But I couldn’t leave unless La said it was okay. I wouldn’t leave her. I would die for and kill for that girl. I couldn’t walk away without her blessing.
She said that I needed to give it a chance and gave me the peace of mind I needed. After moving and then being gone for six months, as soon as I came back home to visit our “friends” told me La was up to no good, running with bad people and missing school. I wasn’t her babysitter or her keeper. I saw La, we spent a couple days together and she was trying to find her way. It was then, when I was 16 that I told her everything about my mother; the cold hard truth. As I sat there and told her and we cried, I think she felt some kind of relief.
It helped us both to know that our relationships with our mothers were entirely fucked up and we weren’t alone, we had each other to confide in. Since that night when we were 16 and 17, we have been able to go months without speaking but never lose touch. We have those epic two hour phone dates where we laugh and just tell each other everything, and make fun of everyone else.
We had one of those conversations about a month ago, and it’s funny after all these years what we still have in common. La has grown to get married, have three amazing, beautiful girls who know me as their aunt, and get separated from her man all in just a decade. I’ve been through bad boyfriends, bad jobs, breakups and crazy choices to get married to a good man that’s staying around so far. I was maid of honor at her wedding and almost told her hubby that if he ever hurt her I would kill him, with all seriousness, but I changed my mind and let them just be. Now that I look back I totally should have scared him straight. La was my maid of honor and she stood by me.
At both of our weddings we were missing one thing, and we both desperately just wanted to get through our big day without thinking about it. Of course that’s never how it goes. La looked amazing on her wedding day. It was so great. We had a blast, until halfway through the party someone dropped the “mom” bomb and she lost it. She just didn’t want anyone to bring it up. And I knew it. I got her away from everyone and we got some air. She said what we were all thinking, “It’s not like I don’t know that she’s not here EVERY day I just didn’t want anyone to say anything about her!” My heart wrenched for La and I wanted to go after the heartless bitch that brought it up and then her dad said something to effect of, “Hun, people just don’t know what to say, what to do, or how to act about it so they say stupid things.”
At my wedding no one said anything. I had everyone surrounding me in the dressing room and I felt so good and beautiful with my Grandma Mary’s jewelry on, a ring from my fiancé’s grandmother on and a gorgeous dress. I stared at myself in the mirror and looked at La, my friend Else, my stepmom, and my boss, Tess and I just lost it. My mother was 3000 miles away. Her entire family was there and she just wasn’t. And she didn’t care, and I really wished she was there. It was then my aunt and stand-in mother Nancy said to me, “But would it really be good if she were here?” La was there and she just held me. I knew everyone was right and then I went on to have an amazing wedding, just like La did a few years earlier.
La says she missed out on her early 20’s reckless phase, which she did. I missed out on my late teens dating and ditsy phase. The thing is, we don’t sit and wallow. Neither La nor I regret things and say, “oh I wish that…,” “I should have…” We just, are!
When we spoke a month ago we were both seemingly at an amazing crossroads. We’d moved mountains to take a risk some thought was crazy. We’d each rallied the support of all of our loved ones, especially those who doubted us and took a leap. And we sat there on the phone with each other, just reveling in the fact that we were victims of our own choices; victims of our circumstances.
Okay, so we didn’t live the Romy and Michelle movie life that I’d planned for us, but much like the friendship of “Thelma and Louise,” a movie I love so much, we have definitely held each other’s hands while driving off proverbial cliffs now and then. I think the most beautiful thing about La and Ison is that we have never judged one another. We've just listened and we are there throughout the choices, good or bad, no matter what. We don’t live in regret, we live and learn.
So here we sit, 1000 miles away from each other in, yet another, similar circumstance: we are twenty-somethings stuck in a kind of limbo, lying in the bed we worked so hard to make. And after all these years, knowing that La is on the receiving end of the phone and that we are not alone, we have each other, just makes these life phases even easier to go through.
I don’t know what I would do without her. She is my greatest blessing. We have no secrets, we tell no lies, we can finish each other’s sentences, read each other’s minds and we can certainly sing every single Hanson song backwards and forwards. Ours is a love and friendship that is hard to find. In a world where friendship is a click away and your net worth as a friend is measured in numbers and page views, it’s good to know that some friends are the ones to follow close, the ones that really will drive off that cliff with you when it all goes down. So, as we get closer to nearly two decades of amazing friendship, La is a friend to follow close! And close, I intend to keep her…with love “atways,” (it’s a La and Ison thing!).
They said it best and she quoted it even better when she was my maid of honor in June 2009, and she said, “You have so many relationships in this life, but only one or two will last.” Ah, yes, we live and love Hanson. That band represents our BFF-hood in so many ways.
But let’s go back to the beginning. I don’t even remember our first play date. I know we met in third grade. We both went to a Catholic school to get the education we deserved but neither of us were true “Catholics.” I think the first day we knew we were friends for real was on a “dress down” day (aka no uniform) when we both ended up wearing the same colors in a slightly different way on “Mismatch Day.” I was wearing a pink t-shirt and red shorts and she was wearing a red t-shirt and pink shorts or some kind of strange combination of the violently bright, opposing colors. Everyone said all day that we had to have planned it, otherwise how could we have ended up like that? But we didn’t plan it, not even remotely. That was the beauty of it, the beauty of us.
We nicknamed each other at some point. Being a wordy, spelling freak from the beginning I noticed how her mom shortened her name on her lunch box and in notes but she did it “grammatically incorrect” (according to me!) We laughed about how nicknames were always the beginning of names instead of the end of names. Therefore, she became “La” and I became “Ison.” We still sign cards to each other that way.
Play dates were always a challenge for us. I lived a half an hour away and it was a pain for her parents to transport. Mine didn’t mind but it definitely took a lot of planning. Now that I look back I’m pretty sure our mothers had distaste for each other. La’s mom was an awesome woman who didn’t take crap from anyone. Mine was a loud, in your face, erratic control freak that made things her way or the high way. Regardless, every time we got together to play we had some serious adventures.
We made music videos, we listened to Hanson, and made posters for them. We played with toys, played outdoors, made up silly little inside jokes that were just ours. I think we each admired what the other had. My house was packed with new toys that I didn’t have to share. La’s house was filled with toys that she had to share with dozens because her parents owned and ran a daycare out of their place. My house was quiet, hers was very much not. But I loved her house! She had junk food I didn’t even know existed! She had white bread (which I ate whole loaves of I swear) which had no nuts in it and even the crust was delicious. She had a super Nintendo and great games and a million activities to do all around her. La even lived by my play date “rules:” Since it was my house and my toys, we got to do what I wanted to do and at her house, since I was the guest, we got to do what I wanted to do. How can you pass up a friend like that!
After all these years and all the shit we’ve been through, these are the things that made us the friends that we are. So, however, is all the bullshit. Right between ages 12 and 15 we both lost our mothers. La, in a completely and far more tragic way. When I lost mine it was more mental and spiritual, and La’s mother left the earthly world.
Just like I will never forget the day my dad changed my life with the news of my mother’s lies and problems, I will never forget the day I found out La’s mom passed away. I was home sick and the high school principal called. My dad was vacuuming and I thought I was somehow in trouble for having too many sick days. My dad didn’t even hear me when I said that it was the principle and answered “who is this?” to the person on the other line. I stood there watching and my dad’s face turned to despair and he said “oh my, no. Okay, we’ll take care of it.”
He told me La’s parents were in a terrible car accident, her dad was badly injured and her amazing mother hadn’t made it. I cried and instantly just needed to be with La. She looked so tired when we got to her, like she could never sleep again. Her little brother just looked numb and shocked, not knowing what to think. Random family members I’d never even heard of were everywhere suggesting things and telling us what to do. One thing was for sure: these kids needed sleep.
Somehow my dad and I ended up taking La to the doctor. He asked her a bunch of ridiculous questions about her health history and why she needed help sleeping, why she was anxious, what was going on. It was then my dad pulled the doctor aside and verbally assaulted his stupidity saying something to the effect of, “This poor child just lost her mother and her dad is in the hospital. She doesn’t need to be harassed and asked all these stupid questions, she needs to sleep so let’s get her something so she can do that, OKAY!?”
My only method of consoling her in the weeks after was to make sure she had Hanson’s new release because to us, Hanson healed everything. The girls at school rallied to pray for her and I remember thinking, she doesn’t need prayers or fake friends, she needs to just not be alone and have someone just be there with her. Everyone went on “help La” patrol and it seriously annoyed me. She just needed to find her way…and she did, she has. La’s too amazing of a woman to stay down even when life kicks the shit out of you.
During all of this my mom was in an out, all over the place and I couldn’t even tell La what was really happening. It was “the family’s business” only and we couldn’t hurt the family name by advertising my mother’s bad decisions and mistakes. But every once in awhile we could just look at each other and know that there was some kind of secret level of understanding between us. We were always comfortable with each other, never judged each other or became mean, catty, or critical. We never even really fought.
High school was bad enough. Add in the mama drama and it just became ridiculous. We both got robbed of our teen-hood in different ways. I had to be an adult and let nothing bother me, act as though my life was regular and perfect. La had to grow up, move on and go back to life as if it was the same as before, and it wasn’t. I can’t even imagine everything she went through and we didn’t talk about it too much. We didn’t have to talk to know what was going on sometimes. Our friends wanted me to “save her,” but she didn’t need saving. She needed to just “be.”
We grew, operated with different friends, slightly different groups but always had each other. About a year after losing her mother, I had the chance to reclaim mine. My mother had gotten her life together enough to where I could try and have a mother again. But I couldn’t leave unless La said it was okay. I wouldn’t leave her. I would die for and kill for that girl. I couldn’t walk away without her blessing.
She said that I needed to give it a chance and gave me the peace of mind I needed. After moving and then being gone for six months, as soon as I came back home to visit our “friends” told me La was up to no good, running with bad people and missing school. I wasn’t her babysitter or her keeper. I saw La, we spent a couple days together and she was trying to find her way. It was then, when I was 16 that I told her everything about my mother; the cold hard truth. As I sat there and told her and we cried, I think she felt some kind of relief.
It helped us both to know that our relationships with our mothers were entirely fucked up and we weren’t alone, we had each other to confide in. Since that night when we were 16 and 17, we have been able to go months without speaking but never lose touch. We have those epic two hour phone dates where we laugh and just tell each other everything, and make fun of everyone else.
We had one of those conversations about a month ago, and it’s funny after all these years what we still have in common. La has grown to get married, have three amazing, beautiful girls who know me as their aunt, and get separated from her man all in just a decade. I’ve been through bad boyfriends, bad jobs, breakups and crazy choices to get married to a good man that’s staying around so far. I was maid of honor at her wedding and almost told her hubby that if he ever hurt her I would kill him, with all seriousness, but I changed my mind and let them just be. Now that I look back I totally should have scared him straight. La was my maid of honor and she stood by me.
At both of our weddings we were missing one thing, and we both desperately just wanted to get through our big day without thinking about it. Of course that’s never how it goes. La looked amazing on her wedding day. It was so great. We had a blast, until halfway through the party someone dropped the “mom” bomb and she lost it. She just didn’t want anyone to bring it up. And I knew it. I got her away from everyone and we got some air. She said what we were all thinking, “It’s not like I don’t know that she’s not here EVERY day I just didn’t want anyone to say anything about her!” My heart wrenched for La and I wanted to go after the heartless bitch that brought it up and then her dad said something to effect of, “Hun, people just don’t know what to say, what to do, or how to act about it so they say stupid things.”
At my wedding no one said anything. I had everyone surrounding me in the dressing room and I felt so good and beautiful with my Grandma Mary’s jewelry on, a ring from my fiancé’s grandmother on and a gorgeous dress. I stared at myself in the mirror and looked at La, my friend Else, my stepmom, and my boss, Tess and I just lost it. My mother was 3000 miles away. Her entire family was there and she just wasn’t. And she didn’t care, and I really wished she was there. It was then my aunt and stand-in mother Nancy said to me, “But would it really be good if she were here?” La was there and she just held me. I knew everyone was right and then I went on to have an amazing wedding, just like La did a few years earlier.
La says she missed out on her early 20’s reckless phase, which she did. I missed out on my late teens dating and ditsy phase. The thing is, we don’t sit and wallow. Neither La nor I regret things and say, “oh I wish that…,” “I should have…” We just, are!
When we spoke a month ago we were both seemingly at an amazing crossroads. We’d moved mountains to take a risk some thought was crazy. We’d each rallied the support of all of our loved ones, especially those who doubted us and took a leap. And we sat there on the phone with each other, just reveling in the fact that we were victims of our own choices; victims of our circumstances.
Okay, so we didn’t live the Romy and Michelle movie life that I’d planned for us, but much like the friendship of “Thelma and Louise,” a movie I love so much, we have definitely held each other’s hands while driving off proverbial cliffs now and then. I think the most beautiful thing about La and Ison is that we have never judged one another. We've just listened and we are there throughout the choices, good or bad, no matter what. We don’t live in regret, we live and learn.
So here we sit, 1000 miles away from each other in, yet another, similar circumstance: we are twenty-somethings stuck in a kind of limbo, lying in the bed we worked so hard to make. And after all these years, knowing that La is on the receiving end of the phone and that we are not alone, we have each other, just makes these life phases even easier to go through.
I don’t know what I would do without her. She is my greatest blessing. We have no secrets, we tell no lies, we can finish each other’s sentences, read each other’s minds and we can certainly sing every single Hanson song backwards and forwards. Ours is a love and friendship that is hard to find. In a world where friendship is a click away and your net worth as a friend is measured in numbers and page views, it’s good to know that some friends are the ones to follow close, the ones that really will drive off that cliff with you when it all goes down. So, as we get closer to nearly two decades of amazing friendship, La is a friend to follow close! And close, I intend to keep her…with love “atways,” (it’s a La and Ison thing!).
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Groundhog Day with JIMMY EAT WORLD!
After some awaited the appearance of the Groundhog, Tampa rockers awaited the appearance of
Jimmy Eat World at the Ritz Ybor. Like most teenagers in 2001, I too was obsessed with Jimmy Eat World’s breakout hit “The Middle.” However, not everyone was caught singing the words into their curling iron by their best friend coming to pick them up for school, but what can I say, that song was as addicting and catchy as the rest of Jimmy Eat World’s music.
Ten years later JEW is touring once again to play hits off of their 2010 release “Invented,” and they stopped at The Ritz Ybor to give their fans a night to remember. I saw Jimmy Eat World in 2004 after they released “Futures” and they rocked it, for this Wednesday night I expected nothing less and they delivered.
The Ritz Ybor was packed but with enough room to move and dance freely. The crowd was ready and as soon as they hit that stage, immediately hitting the crowd with “Bleed American” everyone went crazy. They have quite the loyal crowd as it seemed that everyone there knew most of the words of the diverse set list.
The amazing thing about Jimmy Eat World is that the stories they tell are so simple and succinct, but can move mountains when you listen to them in the right scenario. Although they are labeled as an Alternative Rock band, their lyrics border on slightly Emo and the melodies parallel punk from time to time. They are unique indeed, and their poetic tales can make anyone feel better even with a somber sounding tune. JEW can make their listeners feel empowered by the fact that they are describing that feeling you hate feeling and that moment that you thought only you had ever reveled in, with a catchy chorus and a tune that will stick with you for weeks on end.
The lighting displays, with crazy colors and hanging, diamond-shaped mirrors to reflect every change, complimented every single song differently, allowing you, at times, to feel as though it was just you and the band alone at the Ritz Ybor. The audience was rocking as hard as the band. When Jim Adkins commanded attention with his sweet and dynamic vocals ignited the energy in the crowd!
Jimmy Eat World has the ability to paint a picture or even play a video with every song they play. You can literally see the story play out in your mind as they play each note and sing each line. The show was intensely hypnotic in all the right ways. And I’d never really thought of JEW as a kind of romantic band until I noticed the many couples wrapped up together, some even dancing on each other having an amazing time.
Although the drinks were definitely flowing, the crowd was pretty mellow. Jimmy Eat World definitely revved up the crowd and got them moving but everyone, including the band, was so concentrated on the music that it was just one, big rock-along!
Halfway through the set when they played “Futures,” they really hit their stride on stage and continued to impress the fans with selections of older songs, recent ones and everything in between keeping the audience eager and wanting more.
From the loud and wild pieces, to the slower dulcet songs the energy level never lowered on or offstage. To end with a mighty roar they played “Goodbye Sky Harbor,” and the crowd applauded them with such volume that JEW really had no choice but to oblige and return to the stage. After all, we hadn’t heard “The Middle” quite yet and they couldn’t leave their fans without that gem.
Still keeping the crowd on their toes, they played “Invented” the title track of their latest album. Just after they finally played the one we all fell in love with a decade ago, “The Middle” and the fans went ballistic. I think we sang more than the band for that one. Last but not least they left us with “Sweetness,” which made me feel like a teenager again and prompted me to immediately get out my Jimmy Eat World CDs as soon as I got home.
Whether or not you’re an avid fan or just picked up a few of their hits here and there, a Wednesday night with Jimmy Eat World is definitely the best push to the weekend I can recommend. It was a great show, a great set, and a great collaboration of fans and the band to make this Groundhog day one to remember. And yes, I will be dancing around singing Jimmy Eat World at least for the rest of February, if not for another decade to come!
Jimmy Eat World at the Ritz Ybor. Like most teenagers in 2001, I too was obsessed with Jimmy Eat World’s breakout hit “The Middle.” However, not everyone was caught singing the words into their curling iron by their best friend coming to pick them up for school, but what can I say, that song was as addicting and catchy as the rest of Jimmy Eat World’s music.
Ten years later JEW is touring once again to play hits off of their 2010 release “Invented,” and they stopped at The Ritz Ybor to give their fans a night to remember. I saw Jimmy Eat World in 2004 after they released “Futures” and they rocked it, for this Wednesday night I expected nothing less and they delivered.
The Ritz Ybor was packed but with enough room to move and dance freely. The crowd was ready and as soon as they hit that stage, immediately hitting the crowd with “Bleed American” everyone went crazy. They have quite the loyal crowd as it seemed that everyone there knew most of the words of the diverse set list.
The amazing thing about Jimmy Eat World is that the stories they tell are so simple and succinct, but can move mountains when you listen to them in the right scenario. Although they are labeled as an Alternative Rock band, their lyrics border on slightly Emo and the melodies parallel punk from time to time. They are unique indeed, and their poetic tales can make anyone feel better even with a somber sounding tune. JEW can make their listeners feel empowered by the fact that they are describing that feeling you hate feeling and that moment that you thought only you had ever reveled in, with a catchy chorus and a tune that will stick with you for weeks on end.
The lighting displays, with crazy colors and hanging, diamond-shaped mirrors to reflect every change, complimented every single song differently, allowing you, at times, to feel as though it was just you and the band alone at the Ritz Ybor. The audience was rocking as hard as the band. When Jim Adkins commanded attention with his sweet and dynamic vocals ignited the energy in the crowd!
Jimmy Eat World has the ability to paint a picture or even play a video with every song they play. You can literally see the story play out in your mind as they play each note and sing each line. The show was intensely hypnotic in all the right ways. And I’d never really thought of JEW as a kind of romantic band until I noticed the many couples wrapped up together, some even dancing on each other having an amazing time.
Although the drinks were definitely flowing, the crowd was pretty mellow. Jimmy Eat World definitely revved up the crowd and got them moving but everyone, including the band, was so concentrated on the music that it was just one, big rock-along!
Halfway through the set when they played “Futures,” they really hit their stride on stage and continued to impress the fans with selections of older songs, recent ones and everything in between keeping the audience eager and wanting more.
From the loud and wild pieces, to the slower dulcet songs the energy level never lowered on or offstage. To end with a mighty roar they played “Goodbye Sky Harbor,” and the crowd applauded them with such volume that JEW really had no choice but to oblige and return to the stage. After all, we hadn’t heard “The Middle” quite yet and they couldn’t leave their fans without that gem.
Still keeping the crowd on their toes, they played “Invented” the title track of their latest album. Just after they finally played the one we all fell in love with a decade ago, “The Middle” and the fans went ballistic. I think we sang more than the band for that one. Last but not least they left us with “Sweetness,” which made me feel like a teenager again and prompted me to immediately get out my Jimmy Eat World CDs as soon as I got home.
Whether or not you’re an avid fan or just picked up a few of their hits here and there, a Wednesday night with Jimmy Eat World is definitely the best push to the weekend I can recommend. It was a great show, a great set, and a great collaboration of fans and the band to make this Groundhog day one to remember. And yes, I will be dancing around singing Jimmy Eat World at least for the rest of February, if not for another decade to come!
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Dead Kennedys New Years Eve Unedited
Some people make dinner reservations, buy new outfits and toast with their friends and loved ones at the stroke of midnight on December 31st, while for 2010’s end and 2011’s beginning, some hardcore fans and punk rockers gathered to rock out with punk legends, The Dead Kennedys.
The State Theater wasn’t packed but it was pretty full New Years Eve. Dead Kennedys t-shirts were outfitted on almost every other body, with a few leather-clad fans, many glued mohawks, an Operation Ivy, Casualties, or other punk rock band shirt here and there as well. There was a clearly designated area for the pit to break loose and everyone was excited for the combination of the New Year and the Dead Kennedys performance.
The Pinz, a Jacksonville band, made up of three lanky guys in very tight pants, opened with a sound similar to what would happen if Operation Ivy and Alkaline Trio had a baby. They were well received; they had a strong style and definitely warmed the crowd to the punk that would overtake the State Theater for the rest of the evening.
Dead Cat Lounge hit the stage later and they were awesome. These guys were so happy to be opening for the Dead Kennedys and so into bringing their music to a great punk crowd that that energy just blasted the crowd and kept the night rolling onto the New Year. With many “F*** Yous” sung, it could only get more and more rowdy from there, but in the best way. The bass guitarist had the words “Kill Me” etched onto the frets of his guitar; the lead singer had a scowl throughout most of the songs but looked ferocious rather than ridiculous and made friends with the fans when they brought everyone up on the stage to head-bang and rock with the band.
With lyrics like “We call it the American dream, I call it shit,” you really can’t go wrong. Not to mention they rocked a song that was an ode to the tattooed roller derby girl. This was the punk rock so many fans had fallen in love with all those years ago, and it was only the second band in!
The Spears hit the stage a little before 11pm and the lead singer just instantly looked irritated and pained. He had a mean, pouty face the entire set and just wailed, screamed, thrashed and riled up the entire room. He asked questions like “How are you?” and then told the crowd, “I don’t care” he made fun of a fat guy in the crowd and really had that punk-angst about him that the crowd just ate up. With songs entitled “Nothing’s Fun Anymore,” and a fast, unmerciful guitar riffs, drum beats and bass lines the Spears were a hit!
The Spears finished their set around 11:20 and the onstage scramble to ready the State Theater for the Dead Kennedys began. The crowd grew restless. At 11:35 it seemed like they were ready and the fans were definitely ready. The audience slowly realized that the Dead Kennedys were indeed playing a New Years Eve show, therefore they would not be taking the stage until exactly midnight. The countdown began about 25 minutes later and then there they were: The New Year and the Dead Kennedys dominated the State Theater and the crowd lost it.
The mosh pit went wild, the fans were in awe and I had one moment of slight dismay as I realized that Jello Biafra had not joined them. In sheer excitement I overlooked that he had not been included in their current “member information” on the website and when he didn’t come out and scream Happy New Year, all I could do was join the masses in the New Year’s Celebration and punk extravaganza that had begun.
At the chance of discrediting myself and coming off like a bad reviewer I will confess that I don’t remember a single song that they played. Not because I partied too hard or wasn’t paying attention, but because I was so into the show! I didn’t take a single note I just rocked out and watched as it all unfolded. Later I pulled out some of my collection and did a re-cap with my husband. We argued about whether they played this or that, but as he spent most of his night in the pit and I stayed back taking it all in, we both felt like epic failures for not being able to recall any names. Accepting my defeat, I even looked to the internet for some help, no set lists have been posted and the buzz on the show was minimal which leads be to believe that the show was so amazing that the true punkers, aside from their seriously hardcore fan base, evidently had a similar reaction to and experience with the show.
The mosh pit was a shining example of the punk camaraderie from the earliest shows. No one was trampled, everyone was having fun, there were no cheap shots mean people out to mess up fans. The old school rockers, besides the legends on stage, were amped up singing along and seemed to be reminiscing all at the same time. New Years Eve is about saying goodbye to the old and bringing in the new but the Dead Kennedys seemed to work in the opposite way with amazing results.
Watching Klaus Flouride and East Bay Ray on those guitars was like something out of the punk hall of fame. I definitely had the Wayne and Garth moment of “We’re not worthy.” D.H. Peligro, their dreadlocked drummer, seriously commanded that drum set! He may not be a part of the original DK lineup but he has earned his stripes! And Skip is no Jello but he still brought out the vocal energy that made the DK legends to begin with. The fans seemed to agree.
They started the New Year off with a bang and ended their set in the same way. The Dead Kennedy’s love of the music pulsated through every note and the fans fed off that energy. The sweaty crowd was rejuvenated and the drinks were flowing. It was a divine exhaustion in everyone by the end of the night. If toasting with the Dead Kennedys isn’t a badass kick off into 2011, I don’t know what is!
The State Theater wasn’t packed but it was pretty full New Years Eve. Dead Kennedys t-shirts were outfitted on almost every other body, with a few leather-clad fans, many glued mohawks, an Operation Ivy, Casualties, or other punk rock band shirt here and there as well. There was a clearly designated area for the pit to break loose and everyone was excited for the combination of the New Year and the Dead Kennedys performance.
The Pinz, a Jacksonville band, made up of three lanky guys in very tight pants, opened with a sound similar to what would happen if Operation Ivy and Alkaline Trio had a baby. They were well received; they had a strong style and definitely warmed the crowd to the punk that would overtake the State Theater for the rest of the evening.
Dead Cat Lounge hit the stage later and they were awesome. These guys were so happy to be opening for the Dead Kennedys and so into bringing their music to a great punk crowd that that energy just blasted the crowd and kept the night rolling onto the New Year. With many “F*** Yous” sung, it could only get more and more rowdy from there, but in the best way. The bass guitarist had the words “Kill Me” etched onto the frets of his guitar; the lead singer had a scowl throughout most of the songs but looked ferocious rather than ridiculous and made friends with the fans when they brought everyone up on the stage to head-bang and rock with the band.
With lyrics like “We call it the American dream, I call it shit,” you really can’t go wrong. Not to mention they rocked a song that was an ode to the tattooed roller derby girl. This was the punk rock so many fans had fallen in love with all those years ago, and it was only the second band in!
The Spears hit the stage a little before 11pm and the lead singer just instantly looked irritated and pained. He had a mean, pouty face the entire set and just wailed, screamed, thrashed and riled up the entire room. He asked questions like “How are you?” and then told the crowd, “I don’t care” he made fun of a fat guy in the crowd and really had that punk-angst about him that the crowd just ate up. With songs entitled “Nothing’s Fun Anymore,” and a fast, unmerciful guitar riffs, drum beats and bass lines the Spears were a hit!
The Spears finished their set around 11:20 and the onstage scramble to ready the State Theater for the Dead Kennedys began. The crowd grew restless. At 11:35 it seemed like they were ready and the fans were definitely ready. The audience slowly realized that the Dead Kennedys were indeed playing a New Years Eve show, therefore they would not be taking the stage until exactly midnight. The countdown began about 25 minutes later and then there they were: The New Year and the Dead Kennedys dominated the State Theater and the crowd lost it.
The mosh pit went wild, the fans were in awe and I had one moment of slight dismay as I realized that Jello Biafra had not joined them. In sheer excitement I overlooked that he had not been included in their current “member information” on the website and when he didn’t come out and scream Happy New Year, all I could do was join the masses in the New Year’s Celebration and punk extravaganza that had begun.
At the chance of discrediting myself and coming off like a bad reviewer I will confess that I don’t remember a single song that they played. Not because I partied too hard or wasn’t paying attention, but because I was so into the show! I didn’t take a single note I just rocked out and watched as it all unfolded. Later I pulled out some of my collection and did a re-cap with my husband. We argued about whether they played this or that, but as he spent most of his night in the pit and I stayed back taking it all in, we both felt like epic failures for not being able to recall any names. Accepting my defeat, I even looked to the internet for some help, no set lists have been posted and the buzz on the show was minimal which leads be to believe that the show was so amazing that the true punkers, aside from their seriously hardcore fan base, evidently had a similar reaction to and experience with the show.
The mosh pit was a shining example of the punk camaraderie from the earliest shows. No one was trampled, everyone was having fun, there were no cheap shots mean people out to mess up fans. The old school rockers, besides the legends on stage, were amped up singing along and seemed to be reminiscing all at the same time. New Years Eve is about saying goodbye to the old and bringing in the new but the Dead Kennedys seemed to work in the opposite way with amazing results.
Watching Klaus Flouride and East Bay Ray on those guitars was like something out of the punk hall of fame. I definitely had the Wayne and Garth moment of “We’re not worthy.” D.H. Peligro, their dreadlocked drummer, seriously commanded that drum set! He may not be a part of the original DK lineup but he has earned his stripes! And Skip is no Jello but he still brought out the vocal energy that made the DK legends to begin with. The fans seemed to agree.
They started the New Year off with a bang and ended their set in the same way. The Dead Kennedy’s love of the music pulsated through every note and the fans fed off that energy. The sweaty crowd was rejuvenated and the drinks were flowing. It was a divine exhaustion in everyone by the end of the night. If toasting with the Dead Kennedys isn’t a badass kick off into 2011, I don’t know what is!
The Unbearable Write-ness of My Being
Sometimes I think that I haven’t enough time to think and other times I feel like I’m thinking too much. It is quite the anomaly. Lately I’ve been feeling like my mind is on the brink of extinction, or perhaps at least has become an official entry on the endangered species list.
I see all these old friends, new friends, ex-friends, best friends, acquaintances and friends of friends of friends developing their lives, staking claims, and moving up and on throughout the days, weeks and months and every now and then I wonder if I’m missing something or if something is perhaps missing me. I justify it by saying that, “The times they are a changin’,” but it still gives me pause.
People have been giving me advice or at least encouragement recently to add to the confusion as well. Others have been asking what I want out of life, the places and people; wanting to know my expectations. I haven’t any anymore. The thing is I can write about my every thought, stress, worry, desire and frustration but the best way to describe my life is that you have to understand that you just can’t understand. That basic principle is the best way to love me, which is how my husband does it! Ha!
One of the greatest things about the human race is our ability to tell stories. One of the amazing things about America is that these stories become over-dramatized, cinematic and take on forms of their own. My best friend Else said it best when she said there are three sides to every story: what the first party says, what the opposing party says and what actually happened. If you can’t hear or understand both sides, than how can you be expected to take in what actually happened?
My mind has been spinning with “would haves,” “could haves,” “should haves” and “maybes” but que sera, sera, what will be, will be, people! I could sit here and tell you my life story, all the “you think you know but you have no idea,” details and all the stuff that no one should know. My secrets are what keep me unique and interesting to myself. If everyone knew every single thing about me I may become boring! How scary!
I can confess to you that in my almost twenty six years on this earth I have been through a lot of therapy and firmly believe I will probably need more! Ha! After battling with depression and being looked down upon, scrutinized and chastised by many for seeking help, and yet praised by a strong and select few, people with similar issues come out of their shell. I seriously fought against every idea that I may need to be put on some kind of “fix it” pill but accepted the possibility it may come to that.
Out of the woodwork came all these friends and family members who admitted they were on anti-depressants. These were people I thought had it all together and weathered the storm without even a raincoat. To find out they needed help gave me the push I needed to actually work through it all. I have no regrets about taking the time to heal myself. Unbeknownst to anyone but my husband, I was on a very dangerous, mentally destructive path a few years ago.
As I hit the forks in the therapy road they seemed to be littered with more and more speed bumps and potholes but one thing was for sure: after years of being afraid to feel what I wanted to and constantly making stupid decisions to derail myself from the major choices necessary I chose me and I chose “we.”
If you read my “Men-y Mistakes” entry you know that I almost let my then boyfriend, now husband, slip away and if we hadn’t hit the counseling trail and navigated it together, we could have never ended up as in love as we are today. When I was drowning he gave me some water wings and let me wade my way back to safety while he made us a sandcastle palace on the shore. (This is a good point to snicker and think, “what!?”)
As people have been suggesting things to me lately I’ve had to put them into advice piles in my mind marked “to be considered,” “not gonna happen,” and “oh, definitely!” With New Year’s resolutions running rampant on Facebook statuses and general conversations I’ve stewed over a lot and I’ve come to this conclusion: I have to believe that everything happens for a reason, whether we like it or not. The world moves with or without you but I know it will let you know when it means for you to join in.
We all make mistakes and shit happens but I think every single human deserves his or her happiness, whatever that happiness may mean. I have days where I want to find that company from “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” and have certain memories erased and re-write the context of situations but that’s just not how it works. I refuse to live in regret. My life is filled with about a half dozen fat elephants in the room as I sit; it really just depends on whom I sit with.
Perhaps I should just give into my silly ambitious dreams and be the next David Sedaris and write books about the random occurrences and fucked up situations I’ve encountered throughout my life to make readers like me feel an ounce of normalcy. A great man whom I had the pleasure of having as a support in my life for an important period of time, Scott Coupe, told me that normal is what you know. What I know is that even in the years of therapy to come there are some wounds that should just be allowed to heal naturally. You can’t save a person who doesn’t want to be saved and you can’t make a person change, get help, or do anything they don’t want to do.
In this country of ours we pump people with pills while the hippies advertise holistic and spiritual healing. In between there are the freaks like me writing blogs about letting things go!
It’s hard to let go of the rope you are hanging by when there is a knot tied at the end with a person sitting in your way asking, “Are you sure about this, I mean that’s your decision?” I pride myself on my bravery to hop off and respond, “Yeah, that’s my decision, and if it turns into a disaster at least it’s my disaster and no one else’s!” I will tell you it’s hard not to smack the person who’s in your way, in one manner or another, on the way down though, (yes you should laugh again please.)
Lost yet? You should have read the title: “The Unbearable Write-ness of my Being!” Come on now, if I can’t rant on a blog, what’s the point? Besides I’m unraveling some good stuff here!
Back to story-telling, my crazy mind and others advice rounds to the idea of family. One of my biggest struggles to date is the “idea” of family. I closed so many doors when I was thirteen struggling with the definition of trust: there are people you can admit your insanity to and people you cannot. By age 18, I thought I was a pro at the truth thing, by age 19, I thought I should adopt the freewheelin’ philosophy of being open and honest, which brought in a whole lot of support but by 26 I’ve now reevaluated all those beliefs into a combination of two theories: keep your friends close and your enemies closer, and there is such a thing as getting too close and sharing too much…now to master the balance between it all!
Friendship is a strange thing. I’ve learned that when you live like a gypsy, as my best friend, Angela likes to call me, you find out first hand who your true friends are and which relationships will stand the test of time. Family is a whole different story. One of my favorite quotes growing up that I found is, “Friends are the family you chose for yourself,” but there is something to be said about those in your bloodline and immediate family that I’ve recently discovered. Blood is much thicker than water and no matter what happens in your life, when you are tied to someone genetically, whether they like it or not, they will always be a part of your world.
It’s risky to choose another family over your own, or to expand your ideals of that family because bonds that are “water-based” dry up quicker than you think. Finding support systems outside of your relatives is important but when you share too much and the intensity is high, things can crumble before you. This I’ve experienced, and once that fragile glass hits the hardwood floor, no amount of gorilla glue will put it back together as it once was.
I may have completely lost it or at least lost the attention of my reader but through this entire thing I have come to an awakening. I own my fucked-up-ness and I don’t think a lot of people can do that. I flaunt my flaws to make them unique and appreciated. I live my life one day at a time because in my experience, it’s all you can do. My husband laughs at me for somehow still being a planner as I hold that philosophy close to me but that’s just another facet of my fucked-up-ness. I let my freak flag fly. The world can take me as I am or move on without me but it will come grab me when it’s ready to appreciate the unbearable likeness, write-ness, wrongness and insanity that are my being…my being me!
I see all these old friends, new friends, ex-friends, best friends, acquaintances and friends of friends of friends developing their lives, staking claims, and moving up and on throughout the days, weeks and months and every now and then I wonder if I’m missing something or if something is perhaps missing me. I justify it by saying that, “The times they are a changin’,” but it still gives me pause.
People have been giving me advice or at least encouragement recently to add to the confusion as well. Others have been asking what I want out of life, the places and people; wanting to know my expectations. I haven’t any anymore. The thing is I can write about my every thought, stress, worry, desire and frustration but the best way to describe my life is that you have to understand that you just can’t understand. That basic principle is the best way to love me, which is how my husband does it! Ha!
One of the greatest things about the human race is our ability to tell stories. One of the amazing things about America is that these stories become over-dramatized, cinematic and take on forms of their own. My best friend Else said it best when she said there are three sides to every story: what the first party says, what the opposing party says and what actually happened. If you can’t hear or understand both sides, than how can you be expected to take in what actually happened?
My mind has been spinning with “would haves,” “could haves,” “should haves” and “maybes” but que sera, sera, what will be, will be, people! I could sit here and tell you my life story, all the “you think you know but you have no idea,” details and all the stuff that no one should know. My secrets are what keep me unique and interesting to myself. If everyone knew every single thing about me I may become boring! How scary!
I can confess to you that in my almost twenty six years on this earth I have been through a lot of therapy and firmly believe I will probably need more! Ha! After battling with depression and being looked down upon, scrutinized and chastised by many for seeking help, and yet praised by a strong and select few, people with similar issues come out of their shell. I seriously fought against every idea that I may need to be put on some kind of “fix it” pill but accepted the possibility it may come to that.
Out of the woodwork came all these friends and family members who admitted they were on anti-depressants. These were people I thought had it all together and weathered the storm without even a raincoat. To find out they needed help gave me the push I needed to actually work through it all. I have no regrets about taking the time to heal myself. Unbeknownst to anyone but my husband, I was on a very dangerous, mentally destructive path a few years ago.
As I hit the forks in the therapy road they seemed to be littered with more and more speed bumps and potholes but one thing was for sure: after years of being afraid to feel what I wanted to and constantly making stupid decisions to derail myself from the major choices necessary I chose me and I chose “we.”
If you read my “Men-y Mistakes” entry you know that I almost let my then boyfriend, now husband, slip away and if we hadn’t hit the counseling trail and navigated it together, we could have never ended up as in love as we are today. When I was drowning he gave me some water wings and let me wade my way back to safety while he made us a sandcastle palace on the shore. (This is a good point to snicker and think, “what!?”)
As people have been suggesting things to me lately I’ve had to put them into advice piles in my mind marked “to be considered,” “not gonna happen,” and “oh, definitely!” With New Year’s resolutions running rampant on Facebook statuses and general conversations I’ve stewed over a lot and I’ve come to this conclusion: I have to believe that everything happens for a reason, whether we like it or not. The world moves with or without you but I know it will let you know when it means for you to join in.
We all make mistakes and shit happens but I think every single human deserves his or her happiness, whatever that happiness may mean. I have days where I want to find that company from “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” and have certain memories erased and re-write the context of situations but that’s just not how it works. I refuse to live in regret. My life is filled with about a half dozen fat elephants in the room as I sit; it really just depends on whom I sit with.
Perhaps I should just give into my silly ambitious dreams and be the next David Sedaris and write books about the random occurrences and fucked up situations I’ve encountered throughout my life to make readers like me feel an ounce of normalcy. A great man whom I had the pleasure of having as a support in my life for an important period of time, Scott Coupe, told me that normal is what you know. What I know is that even in the years of therapy to come there are some wounds that should just be allowed to heal naturally. You can’t save a person who doesn’t want to be saved and you can’t make a person change, get help, or do anything they don’t want to do.
In this country of ours we pump people with pills while the hippies advertise holistic and spiritual healing. In between there are the freaks like me writing blogs about letting things go!
It’s hard to let go of the rope you are hanging by when there is a knot tied at the end with a person sitting in your way asking, “Are you sure about this, I mean that’s your decision?” I pride myself on my bravery to hop off and respond, “Yeah, that’s my decision, and if it turns into a disaster at least it’s my disaster and no one else’s!” I will tell you it’s hard not to smack the person who’s in your way, in one manner or another, on the way down though, (yes you should laugh again please.)
Lost yet? You should have read the title: “The Unbearable Write-ness of my Being!” Come on now, if I can’t rant on a blog, what’s the point? Besides I’m unraveling some good stuff here!
Back to story-telling, my crazy mind and others advice rounds to the idea of family. One of my biggest struggles to date is the “idea” of family. I closed so many doors when I was thirteen struggling with the definition of trust: there are people you can admit your insanity to and people you cannot. By age 18, I thought I was a pro at the truth thing, by age 19, I thought I should adopt the freewheelin’ philosophy of being open and honest, which brought in a whole lot of support but by 26 I’ve now reevaluated all those beliefs into a combination of two theories: keep your friends close and your enemies closer, and there is such a thing as getting too close and sharing too much…now to master the balance between it all!
Friendship is a strange thing. I’ve learned that when you live like a gypsy, as my best friend, Angela likes to call me, you find out first hand who your true friends are and which relationships will stand the test of time. Family is a whole different story. One of my favorite quotes growing up that I found is, “Friends are the family you chose for yourself,” but there is something to be said about those in your bloodline and immediate family that I’ve recently discovered. Blood is much thicker than water and no matter what happens in your life, when you are tied to someone genetically, whether they like it or not, they will always be a part of your world.
It’s risky to choose another family over your own, or to expand your ideals of that family because bonds that are “water-based” dry up quicker than you think. Finding support systems outside of your relatives is important but when you share too much and the intensity is high, things can crumble before you. This I’ve experienced, and once that fragile glass hits the hardwood floor, no amount of gorilla glue will put it back together as it once was.
I may have completely lost it or at least lost the attention of my reader but through this entire thing I have come to an awakening. I own my fucked-up-ness and I don’t think a lot of people can do that. I flaunt my flaws to make them unique and appreciated. I live my life one day at a time because in my experience, it’s all you can do. My husband laughs at me for somehow still being a planner as I hold that philosophy close to me but that’s just another facet of my fucked-up-ness. I let my freak flag fly. The world can take me as I am or move on without me but it will come grab me when it’s ready to appreciate the unbearable likeness, write-ness, wrongness and insanity that are my being…my being me!
Saturday, December 11, 2010
A Home For The Holidays
How is it that after Halloween things just snowball and then it’s a whole new year? Thanksgiving has always been a favorite American pastime of mine because it’s the one day you can eat too much, drink too much and start the merriment with no judgment. Plus there’s pie.
I’ve always liked Christmas. When I was younger we would spend Christmas with my uncles and cousins and share in a huge gift exchange where my cousins and I would all rip open our toys to instantly make a mess. My parents and I decorated the tree, my dad made a feast and sometimes my sisters would come home. I always remember it being warm in our big old house from my childhood. I always wished for snow on actual Christmas and it never happened, but there were still many amazing Christmas stories created.
We all have good Christmas stories and bad ones. The holidays are crazy times. They are filled with fun, celebration, love, tension, stress, anxiety and then some. One of my greatest Christmas stories from my childhood was when I was about 11 or 12. I had been collecting dolls from American Girls and I had Samantha. This year I asked for her clothing trunk and it was one of the most expensive things that was a part of the collection. I realized that if my parents bought it for me that the box would have the American Girl return address so I started watching the mail for boxes came.
One day one came that was the perfect size and I was so excited. I told my dad I knew that’s what it was and he said, “I don’t know. I don’t think that’s what it is.” Later as I was acting like a know-it-all about the box my dad said, “Oh yeah this is that lamp that your grandma said she was sending for the living room.” My dad reached down to the corner of the box, slit a hole, dug in with his fingers and pulled out a chord with a plug. My heart dropped. On Christmas morning he asked me to help him open that box…and there was Samantha’s trunk! It was an amazing Christmas moment.
Most of my recent Christmas memories worth keeping close to my heart involve my husband.
For as long as I remember in our relationship we’ve ended up spending every Christmas together, even before we started dating. Our first Christmas that we were dating my dad let him spend the night with us and he bought me a jewelry set with my favorite gem, a moonstone. It was earrings, a bracelet, and necklace and ring. Sadly two of those pieces of jewelry were stolen but the memory is still there.
We’ve always loved spending the holidays together. It’s like so long as we are together we are “home,” no matter where we are.
We both come from split up families and when we lived on the West Coast, splitting everything between households was too stressful. Somehow we always did it though. Whether it was his dad or my dad, my sisters or my step-mom’s, my husband and I were together through it all, even before we were married.
The holidays are tough and they always stir up emotions and memories. I feel more sentimental throughout the holiday season than most other times of the year. Sometimes I feel more Grinch-y than in the Christmas spirit but with my man by my side it usually passes.
When my parents split up my dad ended up with all the Christmas ornaments from my childhood. He gave them to me when I moved out. My husband’s ornaments are with his mother so I like to buy him at least one every year. It’s when we pull them out that the memories start flowing and the shapes and figures trigger a lot of specific experiences.
I love Christmas movies, I love the cold, the snow, the smell of the tree and I definitely feel fortunate that I’m not a Grinch at heart. People ask if we are going home for the holidays, and then they ask which place would be home. I grew up in Pennsylvania, and my uncles and cousins are all there. I met my husband in and my entire immediate family lives in Oregon but neither of us feel like we have a specific “house” or space to call home there.
Inevitably our home for each holiday is just “us.” Wherever we can be together, at dad’s, at uncle’s, sister’s, at our apartment, in a hotel room, wherever, so long as we have each other, we are home for the holidays creating more and more amazing memories and positive emotions to carry us through the years. Corny but true!
I’ve always liked Christmas. When I was younger we would spend Christmas with my uncles and cousins and share in a huge gift exchange where my cousins and I would all rip open our toys to instantly make a mess. My parents and I decorated the tree, my dad made a feast and sometimes my sisters would come home. I always remember it being warm in our big old house from my childhood. I always wished for snow on actual Christmas and it never happened, but there were still many amazing Christmas stories created.
We all have good Christmas stories and bad ones. The holidays are crazy times. They are filled with fun, celebration, love, tension, stress, anxiety and then some. One of my greatest Christmas stories from my childhood was when I was about 11 or 12. I had been collecting dolls from American Girls and I had Samantha. This year I asked for her clothing trunk and it was one of the most expensive things that was a part of the collection. I realized that if my parents bought it for me that the box would have the American Girl return address so I started watching the mail for boxes came.
One day one came that was the perfect size and I was so excited. I told my dad I knew that’s what it was and he said, “I don’t know. I don’t think that’s what it is.” Later as I was acting like a know-it-all about the box my dad said, “Oh yeah this is that lamp that your grandma said she was sending for the living room.” My dad reached down to the corner of the box, slit a hole, dug in with his fingers and pulled out a chord with a plug. My heart dropped. On Christmas morning he asked me to help him open that box…and there was Samantha’s trunk! It was an amazing Christmas moment.
Most of my recent Christmas memories worth keeping close to my heart involve my husband.
For as long as I remember in our relationship we’ve ended up spending every Christmas together, even before we started dating. Our first Christmas that we were dating my dad let him spend the night with us and he bought me a jewelry set with my favorite gem, a moonstone. It was earrings, a bracelet, and necklace and ring. Sadly two of those pieces of jewelry were stolen but the memory is still there.
We’ve always loved spending the holidays together. It’s like so long as we are together we are “home,” no matter where we are.
We both come from split up families and when we lived on the West Coast, splitting everything between households was too stressful. Somehow we always did it though. Whether it was his dad or my dad, my sisters or my step-mom’s, my husband and I were together through it all, even before we were married.
The holidays are tough and they always stir up emotions and memories. I feel more sentimental throughout the holiday season than most other times of the year. Sometimes I feel more Grinch-y than in the Christmas spirit but with my man by my side it usually passes.
When my parents split up my dad ended up with all the Christmas ornaments from my childhood. He gave them to me when I moved out. My husband’s ornaments are with his mother so I like to buy him at least one every year. It’s when we pull them out that the memories start flowing and the shapes and figures trigger a lot of specific experiences.
I love Christmas movies, I love the cold, the snow, the smell of the tree and I definitely feel fortunate that I’m not a Grinch at heart. People ask if we are going home for the holidays, and then they ask which place would be home. I grew up in Pennsylvania, and my uncles and cousins are all there. I met my husband in and my entire immediate family lives in Oregon but neither of us feel like we have a specific “house” or space to call home there.
Inevitably our home for each holiday is just “us.” Wherever we can be together, at dad’s, at uncle’s, sister’s, at our apartment, in a hotel room, wherever, so long as we have each other, we are home for the holidays creating more and more amazing memories and positive emotions to carry us through the years. Corny but true!
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