A long time ago

...in a land far away, or really just across the country when I was in college years back, I used to make mix tapes. Yes, tapes, that's how old I am. CDs were common, yes. But making mix CDs, while not unheard of, was mainly for people with computers that were more advanced than mine. So anyway, these tapes. I would condense a year of school and the attached summer into 240 minutes or so, that's two tapes for those of you keeping track. The mixes would contain music that was new for that release year, songs that meant something to my friends and I, songs that made us feel strong emotions of any sort, other music we heard at parties, titles that exemplified our personalities, you know, *meaningful* stuff. I've been sorting through my back room of late trying to get rid of things that I know I don't need, but can't seem to part with for whatever reason. I swear I'm not a hoarder, I only keep memories and important things...that serve no purpose. Which is why I'm working on getting crap out. I'm donating or selling those things that are salvageable and tossing things that are worthless. Thankfully for the most part I've been donating. So I'm not saving trash, just things that I don't need on a day-to-day or decade-to-decade basis that other people may benefit from. Except my CDs and random tapes. I no longer have a working tape deck, so I have no idea why I still have the tapes aside from memories and nostalgia. Again, not a hoarder. Maybe I'll make them into playlists for future listening pleasure.

But what do I do with the actual CDs? Do I donate them? Does anybody actually buy CDs anymore? I have plenty of friends that are music connoisseurs that buy vinyl and I make CDs for the car cause I surprisingly don't have an iPod hook-up there. (Let's call it lazy and move on.) So I've got all of the music from the CDs on my computer, in my cloud, and on my iPod. Do I need the CDs? And I can't say that I've bought a CD in ages, so they're all just old. I mean, I think I want to keep bootlegs and box sets and imports and things that were important enough that I spent a lot of money on them. But the overall state of my CD collection that has sat in my back room for five years is just dusty. I figure I can have a huge sale on Craigslist or take them to Half Price Books or Sonic Boom or something, but should I? It's my current dilemma. I'll think on it for a bit more.

While I've been sorting the back room I've thought a lot about where many of the assorted items back there came from. But I keep looking at the CDs and thinking about how very up to date and in touch with music I was back then and how I've fallen away from that since moving out here. I've very recently started picking up new music again, no not CDs, and enjoying the fuck out of it. I'd forgotten what the experience of listening to a new song was like. How something in the tune would touch me and I'd have that visceral reaction that made me want to listen to it more. And occasionally more and more and more. Yeah, I would listen to songs on repeat. Serious repeat. Still do. Anyway, I've come to understand a lot of how I enjoy music has more to do with the feelings elicited by the actual music than it is the specific lyrics. I do enjoy the lyrics too, and some recent music I have picked up is quote lurid and I never noticed it until someone else pointed it out, but it's the music that I react to. I've missed that joyful feeling and am currently listening to one playlist on repeat. When the sun is shining in the afternoon I can't help but turn on my iPod and listen with the volume turned up. It's not all new, some of it has been languishing in my wish list for a few years, but it's all new for me right now. I've been on a cloud these past few weeks and I don't want to come down and this resurgence of music enjoyment is continuing the high I've been feeling. So I just wanted to put this here. A reminder of this current joyful feeling and the fact that no matter how alone I feel later, there has always been and always will be the music.

So yeah, I'm happy. The music is currently happy and hopeful. I expect it won't last, but for the nonce I'll play the optimist and say I love you and I love life and I can't wait for the future. And with that I'll quit drinking the bourbon and go to sleep.

That moment when

I know there's nothing there, but the moment finally arrived where it's truly setting in and becoming real. So a little sadness creeps into the daily routine and eventually the previous languor prevails. Ah well. I've dealt with it before and will deal with it again. Maybe I need to move away from here and start new. Probably won't, but it's always an option.

And miles to go before I sleep

I have been unable to move out of this weird, excited, highly charged state. I know it will fade, but I want it to happen sooner rather than later if only for my body's sake. I've been attempting to find a regular sleep pattern, but I'm tired midday rather than at night and I want to move away from napping. The napping is awesome, it means I get more sleep than 4 hours, but it also means that I'm not productive at all because when I wake up mid-evening I don't do anything. And it also means that I'm eating weird (poorly, really) and unhealthily. I'm going to try to work on all things that are unhealthy in my life this year. This year? It's not New Year's, you say? Hmmm...let's go with the Jewish New Year then, that's next week, right? Or something. Heh.

So I'm in need of sleep. I get sleep on my days off. And then I go back to freaking out and acting like a teenager in love and don't sleep when I should. I barely know him, we won't be talking any time soon, we don't live on the same continent, twelve year difference, no real means of contact aside from possible web stalking which is not cool, and fairly certain he isn't into me so there's no reason for me to feel like this. One weekend a year does not a relationship make, nor does it build any sort of lasting friendship really. Oh well, I'll go about my days until this feeling stops and the old ones creep in, because it's inevitable.

Still I wish I could sleep. Lost snippets of poems and literature bandy about my head. I'm glad for the internet most days because I can now identify what my mind fixates on and either expunge it or deepen the hold it has on me. Frost is always in my head, so is Poe. I never thought of myself as someone who enjoyed poetry, but it sticks in there and runs around for days making me understand that I really am intended to teach Language Arts. I miss school. I need to get into a program to get my endorsement done so I can start teaching. I'm drifting through the dark, deep woods and I do have miles to go. I'll make it. I swear I will.

Emotions run high in this one

I had a fantastic weekend. Filled with friends and fun. And of course work, there is always work. Some days I think I will never get away from the store and into my actual career. Part of it is my fault, I should have researched better, but I wanted to be able to work (who needs money? this girl!) and go to school at the same time. Part of it is the bureaucratic methodology of the State towards certification. Ah well, I'll get there. For the nonce I'm getting some stuff done...or at least I was until I went on vacation and then took a leave of my senses and motivation for the summer. As the new school year has just started I need to get my butt in gear and I think this weekend will be the moment that I've been avoiding for so long, the time to get the certification and the endorsement figure out.

But really why I'm here...so much happens in such a short period of time lately that I don't know how I have the time to experience it all. The weekends of my summer have been super busy and full of fun. People have visited, parties have happened, people have gone abroad, friends have moved across country, I've lazed around, I've visited friends, and I've worked. Somewhere in there I've also had a lot of beverages, beverages of every ilk, but most especially coffee and beer. The coffee keeps me going on days like I had this weekend...drinks until 2am, asleep at 4am (or so), then work at 6am. For a few days in a row. So instead of sleep I run on adrenaline and coffee. Although it would seem that for the most part I function the same no matter how little or much sleep I get, everyone points out that I am always "on" and it's hard to tell when I'm sad/tired/otherwise anything but happy. I guess that's OK for them, but for me it can be exhausting. I guess I'm only really tired or sad on my own time, in my own home, where no one else is liable to notice. For the most part this seems logical to me, why would I want anyone else to deal with my emotional baggage? Anyhoodles, I totally got off point here. I was trying to outline my insanity and put it down on the page (I can't say "put it down on paper" anymore, cause I haven't done that in a dogs age). Somewhere in here I got lost and started down an introspective road that I hadn't anticipated. I'm not sure I want to continue on it for the moment, so I'll skip ahead to a new paragraph that has nothing to do with sadness and has to do with the freaking adrenaline rushes of crushes. Flip side of the coin, yo!

A few years ago a buddy of mine invited me out for an evening with him, one of our college friends, some of his (work?) friends that travelled here with him, and his digital entourage. They were a motley bunch; underage, my age, and somewhere in between those two age groups. Essentially, I'm trying to say this was a large group of people that just connected across gaps and demographics with my buddy at the center. We were always a weird pair. He was a friend of mine first, then he dated a good friend of mine, they broke up, he and I remained friends, she and I remained friends, but I know things are fine between them...I mean, it's been years and marriages later. Anyway, he and I always got along well no matter our differences. I think it's the big personalities. I mesh best with people who can hold their ground in the face of my own outsize personality and he certainly does that. If it weren't for the different parents people would swear we are related (and until this weekend, some did think so). So for a few years, I've been hanging out with him and his group for one weekend a year. But that first time, oh that first time. It had been a long time since I felt the twinge of crush, I mean, I'm in my 30s and I'm supposed to have a handle on my emotions, right? Well, I guess not. First of all, there is always him, the one, niggling in the back of my mind and heart. He won't go away, no matter what I do. Which is OK, we're friends, but that nagging itch in the back of my head won't stop. Until this weekend that is.

I never intended things to turn out like this. I often times imagine the things I'd like to happen and then have them not come true. Then there are the times that I hope things happen and when they do it's all wrong. Well, wrong in the way that they happen as I imagine and then the aftermath is hell or just sad. So back again to a few years ago. This crush thing. He was cute and he was funny and he was totally not into me. Not a problem, I had no designs on anything with him. I just enjoyed his company for the weekend, but my other buddies were around so it wasn't a priority to spend every waking moment with him. Although I'm fairly certain I did my damnedest to do so. I find myself to be ridiculous when it comes to guys. I'm unsophisticated in my tactics of flirting and the wiles of women. Oh well, what can I do? Nonetheless, the weekends over the past few years were fun. I got to see my buddy and some awesome people and just enjoy the time. Now this year was no different really. I felt comfortable with these people from the get go. We all chatted, I bonded with them, we had drinks, played games, and I enjoyed myself. That first night reignited the crush. Oh yes, four years down the line and things were just like that first year with me feeling that flutter, that twinge, you know the one. The feeling of happiness that is just flooding your brain with adrenaline and endorphins that is telling you you're really still a child inside who yearns for all the things in the world to just be good and shiny and wonderful. These feelings crop up every so often for me, these crush feelings, but usually they go away quickly. Mainly it's because I know there is nothing reciprocated and the fact that I have my giant hangup that I won't leave behind (I try, I really do, it just hasn't happened yet). But this time, this time something was vaguely different. He was still there, he is still here, but not the way it was just days ago. Could it have been that kiss, or really, those kisses? Standing on the corner, a bit tipsy, with someone else's fingers in my belt loops and my hands around his back?  I'm awkward and dorky and essentially ran away with a "see you next year" and an excuse of having to get up to go to work in a few hours. But really, I wanted to see him more that moment, and for once, the other was nowhere to be found. And it still feels that way. Granted, it's only been two days, but the feelings are creeping around and I've not slept well and I am anticipating a time in the future that may well not happen. I can hope. And hope it what I cling to most days.

In the residual emotional turmoil I made a play list that I am seriously enjoying. I've always been pretty good at picking music to suit a mood or an occasion, but this one really capture the essence of my bizarre mindset and the way I feel at the moment. Some songs are hopeful, some sexy, some upbeat, some a bit slow, but all make me feel a simple sense of happiness (and crushiness) when I close my eyes and dream.

Oh, he does not live even remotely close. And he is most certainly much younger. But that accent. Uh, that accent.

What was I supposed to do?

I think I've decided on my tattoo. I'm going to get text on my back, maybe on one shoulder/blade, maybe across my back spanning my shoulder blades, not sure yet. I will make an appointment later this year to talk to an artist to help pick out a spot and a font, but nonetheless, I think I've chosen the text too. When I was young, 13 or so, I went to the National Gallery with my family and fell in love with Renoir. Specifically "A Girl with a Watering Can" and "Portrait of Mademoiselle Irene Cahen d'Anvers" which both hung on my walls alongside my collection of stuffed animals and Nancy Drew books when I was a teen. I was a bit odd, nerdy but never picked on, dorky but still on sports teams, overweight but never teased, just awkward. Still am I suppose. Back on track, I learned more about Renoir after seeing more of his work in Paris a dozen years ago. So the quote is his that I want on my back. His response was in regards to his own physical pain, but my interpretation is more abstract and about my simple place in the world. I tend to not over think and just live for the moment, it's my super power. The ability to be happy and see simple beauty no matter what is going on in my life. And there it is "The pain passes, but the beauty remains."

Come February, I'll have my first tattoo.

Home again, home again, jiggery jig

I've been home for just about 24 hours. This past week was fantastic, a true whirlwind of a vacation. The past two years have been all grad school, all the time and it was just pure happenstance that R's wedding was the week after I was done. So essentially I had a congrats on getting my Master's and wow R is getting married holiday. Scotland was beautiful. A crazy heat wave left me with a sunburn while in a place that is supposedly more rainy than my current venue. And a whole bunch of really awesome Scotch has left me with more questions about my future than I really want.

While away I was able to avoid the idea that I need to do a lot more to actually complete my education (so I can give others an education). Yes, the Master's is the basis, but am I really prepared for what I want to do? Will I even be able to get certified in WA with my CA degree or will I have to do more? These are questions I've been ignoring or pretending to deal with for at least the last 8 months. Now I tell people I have a plan, but I don't think I really do. What I think I really have is an idealized notion of what I *want* to happen rather than what I really need. Now I actually need to figure it all out.

And I have to stop being a jackass. On other fronts, I'm a flirt and a tease who hates herself for being so, but does not stop. I'm not truly unreadable. The issue is I'm a bit of a bitch who wants one thing with her heart, but knows better with her head, and will arbitrarily switch between acting with one or the other. So I apologize, it wasn't you, it was me. And on that note, I'm going back to listening to the screamy, angry music from back in the day.

And I've decided I want to get a tattoo.

Things I (re)learned and realized this past weekend

We'll go in reverse for no other reason than I can, not like anyone reads this but for me.

I enjoy the company of good friends; of which I have a few.

I've been told my buttermilk cornbread tastes even better on the second day.

I stay up way too late. Frequently.

Falling off the bed trying to retrieve the phone from underneath the bed is both horribly painful (bruises to prove it) and also entirely hysterical, even if no one saw it.

Coffee does not prevent me from taking naps. At all. I can sleep when I need to.

I prefer sleeping with the heat off. I would rather wrap myself tightly in blankets.

I also prefer sleeping without pants on. Too warm. I know I'm not alone in this thinking.

I am able to go to sleep before midnight, but only if I've gotten up early in the morning.

I can still drink all day. Haven't done that in quite awhile.

I enjoy children. They're amusing and seem to like me a bunch too.

Barleywine has a high ABV and makes me giggle. I like laughing.

Bacon is awesome. So is my Viking cookware.

My spare room really needs to be cleaned out. It's horrifying.

I laugh. A lot. Sometimes at inappropriate times and things. Oh well. That's kind of me.

I miss my mom way more than I let on to people (but not here, here I talk about her more than anything else)

I can still cry. At the strangest things. Missing old places I used to live. My dad being happy again or is that finally?

Aleve makes me twitchy. And it's obvious.

And last (or first) but not least, non-homogenized milk is pretty awesome. Totally stumbled upon it in the grocery and baked and cooked with it all weekend.

That essentially takes me from Monday night (of a 3 day weekend) back to Friday night.

And here I will end. It's after midnight thirty and I have to get up in 6 hours for work. Work that I love, but have nowhere forward to go, so I need to formulate a plan of what I want to do for the future. Stick with it, but somewhere that I can advance? Go back to restaurants/food service? Pitch it all and go into working with kids? Teaching? Is that even possible for me? My family is filled with teachers...it would seem almost logical that I end up teaching. But I have never done what was right, logical or easy.

Someone once asked me if I was happy. And I am. But I'm not challenged right now and I think after too long I will lose the happy. And I never want to lose the happy. Another person asked me if I was where I thought I would be in life. And I'm not sure what to make of that. I was never one of those people who planned out the details of my life. Sure, I never anticipated moving here. Nor did I anticipate being the manger of a local kitchen shop. I knew that I wasn't really corporate bound. I don't have issues with authority, but I do find it ridiculous to follow rote rules and regulations written for a national (or international) company that just don't take into account the individuality of its markets, employees and customers. Therefore, no cookie cutter mindset for me. Ah well, bugger it all. I'll think more on this later. I've just spent another 10 minutes writing more when I had planned to stop over a paragraph ago. But that is also another facet of me. I can talk to anyone. Anywhere, anytime. About anything. It's something I may have picked up from my dad. I've grown more like him in attitude as of late. "We'll go from there" and "we'll see what comes" are the two phrases that he uses the most. In the face of happiness, adversity, or just plain old indecision, those are his protectors. And now mine.

I love. A lot. A whole bunch of people. Some near. Some far. Some who know, some who don't. I never regret. Life is too short to second guess the small shit. And sometimes even the big stuff. You've just got to ride it as it comes along and go from there.

Listening: Something to Believe In by Aqualung

Feeling: yes

somedays i miss my mom

frequently i think of her.
mainly because she was truly my best friend.
i think she might have been the only one to see my full range of emotions.
everyone else has off days, why can't i?
why can't i just not be happy for once?
why do i always have to be the one to cheer others up?
where is the person to help me out when i'm sad? mad? confused?
i miss my mom.
and this time of year makes it worse.
yeah, dad remarried.
yeah, she's a great person. but she's not my mom.
she's not trying to be, so that's not an issue.
i just miss my mom.
i cry alone. and i don't tell anyone. because i don't ever get to be unhappy in public.
that's not who i am.

if you haven't told her lately, let her know how much she means to you.
it will make a difference to her.
i miss you mom.

the only thing i can think of saying is...

i like ani difranco. well, some of her stuff at least.
mainly stuff from years ago when i was actually a vaguely angry youth :P

if you know what song the title of this post is from, you win a cookie.
homemade and hand delivered. as long as you live somewhere near me...

been sorting through a lot of memories today.
or yesterday really. as it's tomorrow.
well, not really...i haven't slept yet.
and it's never really tomorrow until i've gone to sleep.

essentially, i've been going through pictures.
long story short: my mom passed away (just over 3 years ago)
my dad moved from my childhood home
he opted to send me boxes of photographs.
and i just recently decided to go through them
maybe make a sort of organized chaos of them
an album, a collage, just lots of little file folders of memories captured on glossy paper.
dunno. it's been hard looking at some of them.
seeing my family whole and happy.
not fractured and strange.
my mom was the glue holding my simple life together.
now it's much more complex.
dad's remarried. my uncle and he don't speak. ever.
my grandmother is 89 and unhappy. who wouldn't be when you watched your daughter die
then your husband. and older sister too.
and your grandchild moves across the country to escape. what you ask? still don't know.

all that's left are my memories. and sometimes i don't think i can trust them,
i live in the idyllic past that is my mind. sometimes a few tears rise. but i rarely shed them.

amongst the pictures are letters.
from friends. from former lovers. from childhood. from other countries.
none matter so much as the present.
and we lack communication.

i have to stop looking at the photos.
but they are all over the living room.
and i can't stop until they are all sorted into little compartments
just like all the other orderly little filed memories.
things i should forget, but can't. or won't.
meh.
i'm being melodramatic.
i've always had a tendency towards prosaic writing
but no plot or resolution.
unrequited.

i have always been a storm.