I just had to write about my weekend.
My tenant's estate sale was Thursday, Friday and Saturday. I was at work Thursday and Friday, so I never really knew what went down during the sale. So Saturday I get up, make coffee, and I'm lounging around until I have to leave to pick up my mother from the airport (after her semiannual and always too short in my opinion trip to visit my aunts and uncle in Texas). I was in my bedroom on the computer, it's about 8:30, and for some reason the dogs go crazy! They're running around and barking. Then I hear voices. Then I realize these voices are IN MY HOUSE. I had taken the dogs for a walk first thing and didn't lock up when I came back in, and here are 3 old ladies standing in my kitchen. "We're here for the estate sale." They just walked in. Didn't ring the bell, nothing. So I explain that this is a duplex and the estate sale is on the west side of the house. So off they go. I chained my door and went back in my room. Well, no more than 10 minutes later, somehow some OTHER people are standing in my kitchen. I mustn't have latched the door right or something. So then I locked the deadbolt, but only after putting a note on my door telling people where to go. And by where to go I mean to the west, not to hell, which is where I would have LIKED to tell them to go.
My tenant, bless her, lived in the apartment for 17 years. There were boxes upon boxes of things in the basement. Things that had been sitting down there for 17 years never opened, and some of which were boxed up when she moved into the place BEFORE mine...so we're talking close to 30 years old, packed with newspapers from 1979. Her house was a shambles, messy, loaded with junk. She had a milk crate full of pens. Piles and piles of paperback books. Little trinkets and baubles and wall hangings and macrame and doilies and potpourri...it made my head spin.
Don't think I'm a bad landlady, for I can honestly tell you I had no idea she had so much junk in there. I never had any reason to go into her place for the longest time, really. Nothing needed fixing and she'd invite me over now and then, and while everything seemed a bit messy it wasn't out of the ordinary, and I never had a reason to go in her bedroom so I missed all that was in there.
Saturday after the sale the women organizing it were busy clearing out all the stuff that didn't sell.
The way my house is set up, we have a shared front entrance and we each have our own side entrance, I'm east, the unit is west. The driveway for my duplex is on the east, just outside my side door. On the west, outside my tenant's door, is the driveway for the house next door. Throughout the sale the coordinators had been using my neighbor's driveway frequently, sometimes with and sometimes without my neighbor's permission. She's a wonderful woman and was very accomodating.
But, Saturday night was the kicker. It was my neighborhood's trick or treat, a HUGE deal, people really go all out. Plus there are tons of kids in the area. Lots of folks throw parties and have open houses. It's generally a blast. People come from all over so there are always lots of cars parked and general mayhem. The neighbor to the west was throwing a party along with her tenant. It was busy and fun.
But in all this, these estate sale ladies were still hauling stuff to their truck, using my neighbor's driveway as a sidewalk. So my neighbor's son in law pulls into the driveway, and the estate sale lady says "You'll have to move your truck, we need to get stuff down the driveway."
I'm handing out candy and listening to this transpire and I couldn't believe my ears. They were actually asking my neighbor to move cars off her own driveway! When she's having a party! On trick or treat night! And they wouldn't let up!! Eventually the guilt got to her and she had her son in law move his truck, not without a few choice words at least.
I was appalled. It was one of those surreal moments that makes me think "Is there ever a situation where I would act that way?" How could someone possibly be so ballsy!? Why couldn't it wait? Isn't it obvious that this is madness?????
I talked with my neighbor about it yesterday. See I was handing out candy and I heard everything. I told her that I actually felt like apologizing, I was so mortified. Thing is, this has nothing to do with me; I am not involved in the estate sale at all. I'm just counting the days until they get everything the hell out of there.
Seriously, I was just mortified by it all.
When my grandma passed away at 97, her affairs were perfectly in order. She wasn't into "stuff." She had family pictures, and she loved saving greeting cards from her grandkids. But she left very little for us to do. No estate sale necessary, just simple things that meant something to us. That's what I want to happen with me. I'm not saying my tenant did anything wrong...if having stuff made her feel comfortable, then fine. But seeing what I've seen and knowing what I know, the last thing I want is more stuff. I don't NEED stuff. They kept telling me "Go over there, take whatever you want" and I never did. I've got all I need. A car that runs and that I like. A computer. A stereo. A television. Enough furniture. Clothes. Pictures up and some wall hangings that mean something to me. And the only thing in boxes I have downstairs are Christmas and Halloween decorations.
I plan on keeping it that way.
Monday, October 29, 2007
If I were any slower I'd be going backwards...
I've done terribly with my eating and working out the last couple of weeks. I'm still going to the gym, but not nearly often enough. And eating, well...Nothing but junk for days. I'm sure that I've reverted to my pre-work out, pre-eating well state. Just goes to show you how easy it is to completely lose control (for me at least).
I'd say I was faltering a little before the whole 'J finding a woman to bear his children' thing. But that pushed me into a different realm. I'm not saying it's responsible currently, but it was a catalyst getting me here. I think most people would agree that sort of thing happens. One thing too many goes wrong and BAM, you're right back where you started. Like the one thing that drives a person to drink after years of sobriety.
Of course, I'm also a person of free will and I can't say that my situation with J is the cause of anything right now (other than depression). I'm the cause of my own situation, and I seriously need to snap out of it.
I don't know what it is though, I mean, yesterday I was absolutely comatose. I got up and had coffee with my Sunday coffee friends, and went to clean the adoption center, but then when I got home...nothing. I watched Columbo (one of my all time favorite episodes, with Jack Cassidy as the magician). Then I took a nap. Then I watched more television and spent a lot of time trying to motivate myself to clean my house (which is a mess right now). What is wrong with me?
I honestly do think part of it is depression. I've dealt with clinical depression since my early 20s, probably earlier but I didn't know that's what it was. Not to worry, I receive consistent help for my depression, but I think there are just some things that are part of the illness that you can't shake. Like before I got help, I'd lay around all day and feel badly and cry and all that. Now I lay around but I don't feel bad and I don't cry. I just don't feel like doing anything.
I'm a born procrastinator, so I can put off housework and whatnot until the 11th hour. So that's in there too.
And I think a huge part of it is that I just have a slow...metabolism? I don't know if that's the right word. I can describe it like this. My mother has and still continues to work her ass off her whole life. My memories of her as a child are her legs. That's mostly what I'd see because the woman never sat down. And my dad could work. If something needed to get done, it got done, no matter what.
But me, I can sit still for hours on end. Seriously. I can sit and just listen to music. I can sit and watch the wind blow through the trees. I can sit and read. I have a very still center.
That's looking at it on the bright side. Looking at it otherwise, well, I'm lazy. I'd be the first to admit I'm lazy. I haven't raked a single leaf this year. Know my reasoning? I have 2 maples that drop their leaves some time after new year's (I exaggerate) and I don't feel like raking more than I have to.
My alarm goes off before 6:00 am, but I don't get out of bed until after 7:00. I feel magnetically drawn to my bed. I have friends whose alarms go off and they are up and at 'em. No snooze, no nothing. How do they do that???
I'm not lazy in everything I do. And if I'm asked to do something by others, I will work so hard to do it. And I do put in a good day's work at my job. But left to my own devices in my own home? The things that need doing around the house and in my own personal life? Not quite the same story.
How could I possibly be my parents' child? How did I turn out so completely opposite from them? Or is it that I give things having to do with myself low priority, because no one else is depending on me? Is that a manifestation of low self esteem (I'm not important enough to keep my own life in order)? My mother often wonders how I can consistently clean the adoption center but not my own house (of course, my mother thinks my house is a mess whether it is or not; I had her over once when I thought my house looked beter than presentable, it looked actually quite nice, and her words to me were "Leslie, how can you live like this!?" I'm not sure what offended her so deeply; my mother is a very infrequent visitor to my home).
You'd think my years of therapy would have answered some of these things but alas, obviously, they haven't.
But I wonder, where did that energy that my parents and grandparents had go? It's like it crapped out by the time it reached me and my siblings (we are all, to a greater or lesser degree, the same way).
Well, that's what I've been thinking about. Probably my top priority right now is to get my ass in gear as far as what I'm putting into my body. So today is the last day I'll be having capuccinos from the gas station and crullers from Sentry. Shame on me.
I'd say I was faltering a little before the whole 'J finding a woman to bear his children' thing. But that pushed me into a different realm. I'm not saying it's responsible currently, but it was a catalyst getting me here. I think most people would agree that sort of thing happens. One thing too many goes wrong and BAM, you're right back where you started. Like the one thing that drives a person to drink after years of sobriety.
Of course, I'm also a person of free will and I can't say that my situation with J is the cause of anything right now (other than depression). I'm the cause of my own situation, and I seriously need to snap out of it.
I don't know what it is though, I mean, yesterday I was absolutely comatose. I got up and had coffee with my Sunday coffee friends, and went to clean the adoption center, but then when I got home...nothing. I watched Columbo (one of my all time favorite episodes, with Jack Cassidy as the magician). Then I took a nap. Then I watched more television and spent a lot of time trying to motivate myself to clean my house (which is a mess right now). What is wrong with me?
I honestly do think part of it is depression. I've dealt with clinical depression since my early 20s, probably earlier but I didn't know that's what it was. Not to worry, I receive consistent help for my depression, but I think there are just some things that are part of the illness that you can't shake. Like before I got help, I'd lay around all day and feel badly and cry and all that. Now I lay around but I don't feel bad and I don't cry. I just don't feel like doing anything.
I'm a born procrastinator, so I can put off housework and whatnot until the 11th hour. So that's in there too.
And I think a huge part of it is that I just have a slow...metabolism? I don't know if that's the right word. I can describe it like this. My mother has and still continues to work her ass off her whole life. My memories of her as a child are her legs. That's mostly what I'd see because the woman never sat down. And my dad could work. If something needed to get done, it got done, no matter what.
But me, I can sit still for hours on end. Seriously. I can sit and just listen to music. I can sit and watch the wind blow through the trees. I can sit and read. I have a very still center.
That's looking at it on the bright side. Looking at it otherwise, well, I'm lazy. I'd be the first to admit I'm lazy. I haven't raked a single leaf this year. Know my reasoning? I have 2 maples that drop their leaves some time after new year's (I exaggerate) and I don't feel like raking more than I have to.
My alarm goes off before 6:00 am, but I don't get out of bed until after 7:00. I feel magnetically drawn to my bed. I have friends whose alarms go off and they are up and at 'em. No snooze, no nothing. How do they do that???
I'm not lazy in everything I do. And if I'm asked to do something by others, I will work so hard to do it. And I do put in a good day's work at my job. But left to my own devices in my own home? The things that need doing around the house and in my own personal life? Not quite the same story.
How could I possibly be my parents' child? How did I turn out so completely opposite from them? Or is it that I give things having to do with myself low priority, because no one else is depending on me? Is that a manifestation of low self esteem (I'm not important enough to keep my own life in order)? My mother often wonders how I can consistently clean the adoption center but not my own house (of course, my mother thinks my house is a mess whether it is or not; I had her over once when I thought my house looked beter than presentable, it looked actually quite nice, and her words to me were "Leslie, how can you live like this!?" I'm not sure what offended her so deeply; my mother is a very infrequent visitor to my home).
You'd think my years of therapy would have answered some of these things but alas, obviously, they haven't.
But I wonder, where did that energy that my parents and grandparents had go? It's like it crapped out by the time it reached me and my siblings (we are all, to a greater or lesser degree, the same way).
Well, that's what I've been thinking about. Probably my top priority right now is to get my ass in gear as far as what I'm putting into my body. So today is the last day I'll be having capuccinos from the gas station and crullers from Sentry. Shame on me.
Friday, October 26, 2007
I'm Glad I Didn't Choose a Watch
Hola Amigos,
And another work week draws to a close. I am ashamed of myself, I've been really half assed about stuff and my employer deserves better from me.
I really do work at a nice place, for as large as it is it has a family feel about it. It's not for profit and academic too, so I can educate myself while stickin' it to the man. It doesn't pay much, but you couldn't find a place with better benefits. And honestly, I like my job. It's a very odd, strange little job that nobody probably ever thinks of, but I know that doing what I do in some small way helps someone in their education, or in their teaching, and I am very proud of that. I'm not a proud person, but I am proud of that.
They had a luncheon for everyone celebrating a milestone anniversary (5th, 10th, 15th, and so on) on Tuesday. Having recently celebrated my 20th, I was invited to this particular luncheon. We received a catalog of gifts that we could choose from about 4 weeks ago. There was some great stuff in there, and after much fretting over what to get, I decided on the 48 piece china set (not sure if it's actually china, but it's nice).
See, having never been married at a youngish age, I never registered for anything like china and whatnot, and I couldn't see investing in it myself. I'm single and I live in a tiny house, it's just not practical. So throughout my years of being a bachelorette I've relied on some Corelle and a couple of plates I got at the dollar store.
Every week I would stare enviously at the flyers in the Sunday paper, at these lovely dish sets with serving platters and bowls, gravy boats, etc., and think "My stuff looks like crap, how I'd love to replace it." Well, now I can!
They handed the gifts out at the luncheon, actually calling each person up individually (and there were a lot of us there--about 16 tables worth of people), which I think is a very kind gesture. I was informed via email that my gift was too heavy and fragile for the luncheon (understandable) and that I could work it out with our HR office to get it to my car.
Thing is, the person I need to arrange it with is out until Monday. So I STILL haven't gotten my gift! I was really looking forward to it. I plan on pulling EVERYTHING out of my cupboards and finally trying to make sense of it all (I hardly have any cupboards, essentially two, so I've divided them into things you can eat, and things you can eat off or out of). I may still do that, but I'll have to wait to receive my first official set of china. At age 42, I'd say I deserved it. My mom said "Now you need to get a hutch" and I thought, where will I put that, my bedroom?? So this nice china will have to sit in a cupboard, but at least now if I have people over for dinner I can serve them all on matching plates!
They had all the gifts (except mine) set out on a table and you could look them over before we sat down. I would say that the most prevalent thing I saw there were watches. Everybody chose a damn watch! That strikes me as funny, for you see, I'm not a watch wearer. I've never been a watch wearer. I have them, and have worn them, but never made a habit of it, and I can't even tell you the last time I put one on.
I think it all started with a watch my parents gave me, my first one. At the time I didn't know this, but I'm highly allergic to nickel. So after wearing this watch for a while I developed a horrible itch. Over the years I was given watches here and there, some quite nice, but they all made me itch (the band if it was metal, or the clasp, or the back of the face). Then Swatches became all the rage, and I bought several of those because being plastic they didn't make me itch. I really went crazy when I worked at a department store and could by them with a 25% discount! Hoowee! I had a swatch for every occasion.
But I stopped wearing those too. And now I've gone so long without a watch that I don't even miss them. I never wear them, never really seem to need them. Everywhere I need to go either has a clock, or I have my phone with me, or there's a clock in my car, or I just ask someone. Another handy one is if I buy something the time is always stamped on the receipt, so I can check that too.
I've also got an uncanny ability to estimate time. I'm not perfect, but am usually so close that I may as well be wearing a watch. Hang out with me some time, I'll display my time telling talents. :)
Anyway, I'm quite happy with my decision NOT to get a watch. I did have a minor pang of regret when I saw the peridot ring that was on the table. I saw it in the catalog and I thought long and hard about getting it. It's my birthstone. For years I despised it. Even though I like green, I was drawn to the flashier, deeper green of the emerald. Peridot just looked washed out to me. But it's grown on me. Then when I turned 40 I decided I was going to splurge and get myself something strictly to mark that milestone, something just for me. I have absolutely no jewelry of any value (seeing as most except for the nickel free cheapo stuff at Kohl's makes me break out in horrible itchy blisters), so I decided I was going to buy myself a ring. I went to Marshall Field's and looked at all the peridot in their fine jewelry department. I fell in love with a beautiful peridot ring with a gold band, set in small diamonds (VERY small diamonds). I have to tell you, it's gorgeous, and I rarely take it off. And no, I'm NOT going to tell you how much I spent on it. But I do really love it.
I thought about the peridot ring in the catalog for quite a while. And when I saw it on the table at the luncheon I sort of regretted not ordering it. But then I looked at my own peridot ring and realized that's enough.
So now I anxiously await my set of china, with my most sincere thanks to my employer.
And another work week draws to a close. I am ashamed of myself, I've been really half assed about stuff and my employer deserves better from me.
I really do work at a nice place, for as large as it is it has a family feel about it. It's not for profit and academic too, so I can educate myself while stickin' it to the man. It doesn't pay much, but you couldn't find a place with better benefits. And honestly, I like my job. It's a very odd, strange little job that nobody probably ever thinks of, but I know that doing what I do in some small way helps someone in their education, or in their teaching, and I am very proud of that. I'm not a proud person, but I am proud of that.
They had a luncheon for everyone celebrating a milestone anniversary (5th, 10th, 15th, and so on) on Tuesday. Having recently celebrated my 20th, I was invited to this particular luncheon. We received a catalog of gifts that we could choose from about 4 weeks ago. There was some great stuff in there, and after much fretting over what to get, I decided on the 48 piece china set (not sure if it's actually china, but it's nice).
See, having never been married at a youngish age, I never registered for anything like china and whatnot, and I couldn't see investing in it myself. I'm single and I live in a tiny house, it's just not practical. So throughout my years of being a bachelorette I've relied on some Corelle and a couple of plates I got at the dollar store.
Every week I would stare enviously at the flyers in the Sunday paper, at these lovely dish sets with serving platters and bowls, gravy boats, etc., and think "My stuff looks like crap, how I'd love to replace it." Well, now I can!
They handed the gifts out at the luncheon, actually calling each person up individually (and there were a lot of us there--about 16 tables worth of people), which I think is a very kind gesture. I was informed via email that my gift was too heavy and fragile for the luncheon (understandable) and that I could work it out with our HR office to get it to my car.
Thing is, the person I need to arrange it with is out until Monday. So I STILL haven't gotten my gift! I was really looking forward to it. I plan on pulling EVERYTHING out of my cupboards and finally trying to make sense of it all (I hardly have any cupboards, essentially two, so I've divided them into things you can eat, and things you can eat off or out of). I may still do that, but I'll have to wait to receive my first official set of china. At age 42, I'd say I deserved it. My mom said "Now you need to get a hutch" and I thought, where will I put that, my bedroom?? So this nice china will have to sit in a cupboard, but at least now if I have people over for dinner I can serve them all on matching plates!
They had all the gifts (except mine) set out on a table and you could look them over before we sat down. I would say that the most prevalent thing I saw there were watches. Everybody chose a damn watch! That strikes me as funny, for you see, I'm not a watch wearer. I've never been a watch wearer. I have them, and have worn them, but never made a habit of it, and I can't even tell you the last time I put one on.
I think it all started with a watch my parents gave me, my first one. At the time I didn't know this, but I'm highly allergic to nickel. So after wearing this watch for a while I developed a horrible itch. Over the years I was given watches here and there, some quite nice, but they all made me itch (the band if it was metal, or the clasp, or the back of the face). Then Swatches became all the rage, and I bought several of those because being plastic they didn't make me itch. I really went crazy when I worked at a department store and could by them with a 25% discount! Hoowee! I had a swatch for every occasion.
But I stopped wearing those too. And now I've gone so long without a watch that I don't even miss them. I never wear them, never really seem to need them. Everywhere I need to go either has a clock, or I have my phone with me, or there's a clock in my car, or I just ask someone. Another handy one is if I buy something the time is always stamped on the receipt, so I can check that too.
I've also got an uncanny ability to estimate time. I'm not perfect, but am usually so close that I may as well be wearing a watch. Hang out with me some time, I'll display my time telling talents. :)
Anyway, I'm quite happy with my decision NOT to get a watch. I did have a minor pang of regret when I saw the peridot ring that was on the table. I saw it in the catalog and I thought long and hard about getting it. It's my birthstone. For years I despised it. Even though I like green, I was drawn to the flashier, deeper green of the emerald. Peridot just looked washed out to me. But it's grown on me. Then when I turned 40 I decided I was going to splurge and get myself something strictly to mark that milestone, something just for me. I have absolutely no jewelry of any value (seeing as most except for the nickel free cheapo stuff at Kohl's makes me break out in horrible itchy blisters), so I decided I was going to buy myself a ring. I went to Marshall Field's and looked at all the peridot in their fine jewelry department. I fell in love with a beautiful peridot ring with a gold band, set in small diamonds (VERY small diamonds). I have to tell you, it's gorgeous, and I rarely take it off. And no, I'm NOT going to tell you how much I spent on it. But I do really love it.
I thought about the peridot ring in the catalog for quite a while. And when I saw it on the table at the luncheon I sort of regretted not ordering it. But then I looked at my own peridot ring and realized that's enough.
So now I anxiously await my set of china, with my most sincere thanks to my employer.
Monday, October 22, 2007
What Does Owen Watch?
Hola Amigos,
I'd been feeling so badly these last few days that I wanted a pick me up (that wasn't food). I've been pretty tight with my money lately seeing as the income from my rental property is gone until I rent the place out again, but I decided I was going to treat myself. I ordered the Criterion Collection Edition of Rushmore last week.
I even paid for one of the fancier shipping options so it would arrive sooner. I hurried home and went to get my mail, and alas, no video. So, my viewing will have to wait until tomorrow (oh PLEASE let it arrive tomorrow!).
You see, Rushmore is one of those movies that renews my faith in mankind. When I watch it I think "I'm lucky to live in a world where people can make something as delightful, as wonderful as this film." I feel that way about the Simpsons, the Marx Brothers, the better Seinfeld episodes, Aqua Teen Hunger Force. The list goes on. But occasionally I need to remind myself.
I don't want to seem so dramatic when I say this, but things like that make life worth living. There are plenty of other things that make life worth living, don't get me wrong. But when I'm feeling poorly, or depressed, and not wanting to do much of anything, how superb it is to have a movie like Rushmore around to pop in the DVD player.
I was thinking about this on the way home today. Owen Wilson co-wrote Rushmore with Wes Anderson. He also attempted suicide a few months ago...and that makes me so sad. I guess even the person who can write something so delightful is not necessarily free of demons.
I could never say I know what he went through, because I don't, but I just wish I could let him now how his work has touched me deeply. Maybe it wouldn't matter to him, who knows. There are so many people who are fans of that movie...and I'm sure he knows that...
Oh, I don't know where this is going really, but I did wonder to myself, does Owen Wilson have something for himself the way I have Rushmore? Is there something he finds so sublime that it gives him hope? I hope so. He's far too talented to lose. Honestly, with all the worthless people out there in show biz, why should we have to worry about losing someone like him???
I will avoid making a bad joke about celebrities I wouldn't mind losing...
Owen, I hope you stick around for a long, long time.
I'd been feeling so badly these last few days that I wanted a pick me up (that wasn't food). I've been pretty tight with my money lately seeing as the income from my rental property is gone until I rent the place out again, but I decided I was going to treat myself. I ordered the Criterion Collection Edition of Rushmore last week.
I even paid for one of the fancier shipping options so it would arrive sooner. I hurried home and went to get my mail, and alas, no video. So, my viewing will have to wait until tomorrow (oh PLEASE let it arrive tomorrow!).
You see, Rushmore is one of those movies that renews my faith in mankind. When I watch it I think "I'm lucky to live in a world where people can make something as delightful, as wonderful as this film." I feel that way about the Simpsons, the Marx Brothers, the better Seinfeld episodes, Aqua Teen Hunger Force. The list goes on. But occasionally I need to remind myself.
I don't want to seem so dramatic when I say this, but things like that make life worth living. There are plenty of other things that make life worth living, don't get me wrong. But when I'm feeling poorly, or depressed, and not wanting to do much of anything, how superb it is to have a movie like Rushmore around to pop in the DVD player.
I was thinking about this on the way home today. Owen Wilson co-wrote Rushmore with Wes Anderson. He also attempted suicide a few months ago...and that makes me so sad. I guess even the person who can write something so delightful is not necessarily free of demons.
I could never say I know what he went through, because I don't, but I just wish I could let him now how his work has touched me deeply. Maybe it wouldn't matter to him, who knows. There are so many people who are fans of that movie...and I'm sure he knows that...
Oh, I don't know where this is going really, but I did wonder to myself, does Owen Wilson have something for himself the way I have Rushmore? Is there something he finds so sublime that it gives him hope? I hope so. He's far too talented to lose. Honestly, with all the worthless people out there in show biz, why should we have to worry about losing someone like him???
I will avoid making a bad joke about celebrities I wouldn't mind losing...
Owen, I hope you stick around for a long, long time.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
I'm Not Happy
So a month ago tomorrow I wrote a post about my guy. Unbelievably, as optimistic as I was then, I am just as disappointed today.
I'm not worried that he'll read this. In all the years I've known him, he's never actually retained any information like that, websites, birthdays, phone numbers. I don't take it personally, actually it never really bothered me. Everyone is equally forgettable in his eyes, it wasn't just me. But it does give me some freedom because I don't have to worry that he'll ever see it.
It is, in a word, over. Plain and simple. We've called it quits before but in that half-hearted way where you know you don't really mean it. This time is fundamentally different, I can feel it.
I'm not sure how much of this I am willing to write about. And I probably wouldn't write it at all, except that I took a chance and committed my relationship with him in this blog, and I feel I need to finish it off too. Can't pretend it didn't happen, you know?
Some of this is pretty embarrassing to me. Some of it is so weird that I'd spend copious amounts of time just explaining and it's not worth it.
So, let's see...how do I state it in the simplest terms possible. OK, how's this. J met someone whom he feels he has a better chance of having a child with than me. No I'm not joking. And don't go thinking I don't want children. I've always wanted children. It just hasn't been in the cards, which honestly breaks my heart. But it's the hand I've been dealt and I live with it.
He said in essence it boiled down to "She was there, you weren't" (you meaning me). This person (and trust me, I have no ill will toward her at all; I'm sure she doesn't even know I exist) doesn't live any closer to him than I do, but they were at the same conference recently, and knew each other through a network. Anyway, I guess she's good enough breeding stock for him to make the effort to see her.
This sounds so crass. I'm not a crass person. I'm just so disappointed. It's like someone pulled a rug out from under me. And I know much, much worse things could happen to me. But this is what's happening right now, and it makes me feel awful.
I'll be honest (shoot, I'm always honest) and tell you that it isn't as simple as I relayed up there, but that's as simple as I can put it. So essentially he told me (in as many words) that we're not getting together in January, that he's going to pursue having a child with this person and that's that.
I'm sure that this was cooking for a while. This whole scenario didn't happen overnight. But as of a month ago we were planning our time in NYC. As of a month ago I was his 'amour,' his girl, his girlfriend. And he decided that it wasn't working, so he is going to pursue this relationship, and here I am left holding the bag, and it feels pretty crappy let me tell you.
You know, we were going to use that time in NYC to figure things out, to see where we wanted to go, to see if we could make the big commitment to each other. I mean, it would be big. But we were both so compatible, we just loved being together, and truthfully, we'd even talked about having a family (great scott, I never even told my mother about that part), it wasn't scary, it was just a matter of doing it, or not.
I shared with him that I was fully aware January would be a make or break thing, a shit or get off the pot kind of thing. He knew it. I knew it. But it had to be done.
But, alas, he branched off on his own. I'm not even saying he doesn't have every right to do whatever the hell he wants to, of course he does. But it makes me feel so...bad. Worthless. I am not even worth waiting 2 months for.
So, I'm not happy. And just like a month ago I wrote my first post about my guy, here I am writing my last. Ostensibly my last. I probably have lots of venom to spew about this, but I'm too busy wallowing in self-pity right now to vent.
So now what do I do? Unlike J I haven't lined anyone else up. You know, he told me he didn't love her. He didn't say that to make me feel better either. He said that because it's true. I think he just figured she's young enough and she wants kids too so he'd give it a try. His biological clock must be ticking significantly louder than mine.
Isn't this bizarre? What kind of story is this?
I was very calm yesterday. I was calm until he told me that he was flying to see her in a couple weeks. That was like a slap in the face. He always had plenty of reasons why we couldn't get together, but I think in the end it boiled down to what he was willing to do for me, and that just wasn't very much. So when I expressed to him my anger, when I told him "OK, now I'm pissed" he actually said "Why?" Why?? I actually had to tell him, I had to remind him of all the times he's put me off for one reason or another. I think it's because he always knew I'd be around; I'm very faithful, consistent, and he knew he could get away with shit just because I'd let him.
So as I was saying goodbye he told me he'd talk to me tomorrow. I stopped. I said "I can't do that." Somehow, he thought I'd still be there. How am I supposed to stay with him? What? What is he thinking? That somehow this is all going to be OK? Does he actually think I want to be a part of his life now? I'm not even saying I wish him ill, because I don't. If this is what he wants, fine. But I don't want my nose rubbed in it.
And he didn't understand that. Fundamentally, deep down, this makes me feel better. Because I don't think I could be with a man who is so utterly clueless as to my feelings. It'll take me a while to realize that, because right now it's all about me feeling bad. I'll get to feeling better later.
I'm not worried that he'll read this. In all the years I've known him, he's never actually retained any information like that, websites, birthdays, phone numbers. I don't take it personally, actually it never really bothered me. Everyone is equally forgettable in his eyes, it wasn't just me. But it does give me some freedom because I don't have to worry that he'll ever see it.
It is, in a word, over. Plain and simple. We've called it quits before but in that half-hearted way where you know you don't really mean it. This time is fundamentally different, I can feel it.
I'm not sure how much of this I am willing to write about. And I probably wouldn't write it at all, except that I took a chance and committed my relationship with him in this blog, and I feel I need to finish it off too. Can't pretend it didn't happen, you know?
Some of this is pretty embarrassing to me. Some of it is so weird that I'd spend copious amounts of time just explaining and it's not worth it.
So, let's see...how do I state it in the simplest terms possible. OK, how's this. J met someone whom he feels he has a better chance of having a child with than me. No I'm not joking. And don't go thinking I don't want children. I've always wanted children. It just hasn't been in the cards, which honestly breaks my heart. But it's the hand I've been dealt and I live with it.
He said in essence it boiled down to "She was there, you weren't" (you meaning me). This person (and trust me, I have no ill will toward her at all; I'm sure she doesn't even know I exist) doesn't live any closer to him than I do, but they were at the same conference recently, and knew each other through a network. Anyway, I guess she's good enough breeding stock for him to make the effort to see her.
This sounds so crass. I'm not a crass person. I'm just so disappointed. It's like someone pulled a rug out from under me. And I know much, much worse things could happen to me. But this is what's happening right now, and it makes me feel awful.
I'll be honest (shoot, I'm always honest) and tell you that it isn't as simple as I relayed up there, but that's as simple as I can put it. So essentially he told me (in as many words) that we're not getting together in January, that he's going to pursue having a child with this person and that's that.
I'm sure that this was cooking for a while. This whole scenario didn't happen overnight. But as of a month ago we were planning our time in NYC. As of a month ago I was his 'amour,' his girl, his girlfriend. And he decided that it wasn't working, so he is going to pursue this relationship, and here I am left holding the bag, and it feels pretty crappy let me tell you.
You know, we were going to use that time in NYC to figure things out, to see where we wanted to go, to see if we could make the big commitment to each other. I mean, it would be big. But we were both so compatible, we just loved being together, and truthfully, we'd even talked about having a family (great scott, I never even told my mother about that part), it wasn't scary, it was just a matter of doing it, or not.
I shared with him that I was fully aware January would be a make or break thing, a shit or get off the pot kind of thing. He knew it. I knew it. But it had to be done.
But, alas, he branched off on his own. I'm not even saying he doesn't have every right to do whatever the hell he wants to, of course he does. But it makes me feel so...bad. Worthless. I am not even worth waiting 2 months for.
So, I'm not happy. And just like a month ago I wrote my first post about my guy, here I am writing my last. Ostensibly my last. I probably have lots of venom to spew about this, but I'm too busy wallowing in self-pity right now to vent.
So now what do I do? Unlike J I haven't lined anyone else up. You know, he told me he didn't love her. He didn't say that to make me feel better either. He said that because it's true. I think he just figured she's young enough and she wants kids too so he'd give it a try. His biological clock must be ticking significantly louder than mine.
Isn't this bizarre? What kind of story is this?
I was very calm yesterday. I was calm until he told me that he was flying to see her in a couple weeks. That was like a slap in the face. He always had plenty of reasons why we couldn't get together, but I think in the end it boiled down to what he was willing to do for me, and that just wasn't very much. So when I expressed to him my anger, when I told him "OK, now I'm pissed" he actually said "Why?" Why?? I actually had to tell him, I had to remind him of all the times he's put me off for one reason or another. I think it's because he always knew I'd be around; I'm very faithful, consistent, and he knew he could get away with shit just because I'd let him.
So as I was saying goodbye he told me he'd talk to me tomorrow. I stopped. I said "I can't do that." Somehow, he thought I'd still be there. How am I supposed to stay with him? What? What is he thinking? That somehow this is all going to be OK? Does he actually think I want to be a part of his life now? I'm not even saying I wish him ill, because I don't. If this is what he wants, fine. But I don't want my nose rubbed in it.
And he didn't understand that. Fundamentally, deep down, this makes me feel better. Because I don't think I could be with a man who is so utterly clueless as to my feelings. It'll take me a while to realize that, because right now it's all about me feeling bad. I'll get to feeling better later.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Lost weekend, and lost Monday and Tuesday
Yeah, I had a couple binges in the last few days. No purges because I never got that whole purging thing down right. I tried it once and ended up salivating a lot.
I ate way too much between Friday and yesterday. I consumed a dozen donuts, a huge bag of popcorn, some pecan rolls, 2 pints of dove ice cream, a breakfast at IHOP, turkey dinner at my sister-in-law's, a couple (OK, 3) candy bars...that may have been it. I had some fruit and cereal in there too, and probably one balanced meal.
Writing it down actually makes me pretty ashamed of myself. What was I thinking?
Another bad thing is that I didn't go to the gym at all this weekend. I went Thursday, but Friday I went out with friends after work. Saturday I had a meeting in the morning, then drove to Green Bay to pick up a dog. Sunday I went out for breakfast, then cleaned the adoption center, staffed it until 3:00, then went for dinner at my brother's place. I don't go to the gym on Mondays because it's SO crowded it makes me uncomfortable. The last time I went on a Monday I got my locker key, put my stuff away, grabbed a towel, went to get on a treadmill, saw all the people, noticed there were no treadmills available, turned around, went to my locker, got my stuff, turned in my key and went home.
Then came yesterday. Yesterday not good.
I took the day off, ostensibly to do all the crap around the house that I didn't get to because this weekend was too busy. It was a wasted day. I made a list of everything I needed to do, then proceeded to procrastinate and not do 90% of it. What is wrong with me???
Now I'm here at work (don't worry, I get legitimate breaks and such, and this blog is relatively squeaky clean) and am ready to roll. But I can't stop thinking about my behavior these last few days and be totally ashamed of myself.
I get a strange feeling sometimes, it's almost a physical feeling, when I'm not motivated. Like yesterday, I kept telling myself to get moving and working, and I didn't. But the thing is, it's not like I'm like that all the time. Sometimes I work my ass off, am completely motivated and get plenty done. What is that all about? Biorhythms? The moon? PMS? Why is my energy level/interest/motivation so inconsistent? What caused me to eat all those terrible things over the course of 4 or 5 days? Why didn't I make time to get to the gym??
I found I do this a lot when I journal, too, ask questions with no conceivable answer. What's that all about?
There is something good though after all this. I can feel, inside, that I don't want to feel the way I did these last few days. I know this feeling. It's a change that I get when I make my mind up about something. Like when I decide I'm going to try and lose weight, or the decision I made about joining the gym.
For example, I know in my heart when it's right for me to try losing weight. It's as if a switch gets turned on. It's just that drastic. One day I'm eating completely unhealthy, and boom, I make the decision to not do it anymore (I've made that decision many, many times...I'm looking forward to the time it sticks).
Or the gym. The time to join the gym was the day I joined the gym. Not a day before or a day after. It was THAT DAY. Again, like a switch was turned on. No matter how hard anyone may have tried, there was no way I was joining the gym even a day earlier, because I wasn't ready. Maybe this is like addicted people hitting rock bottom? You know, you can't get them to change until they decide to change...
This is a weird post. I think because what I'm writing about are weird things. Binging is weird. Compulsive overeating is weird. Self-sabotage is weird.
I feel better having written, actually. :) Maybe that's some residual 12 step influence, admitting to yourself and another person (or persons, depending one who is reading this blog, and if you've gotten this far, bless you) the nature of your wrongs.
I will try not to write such a self centered post the next time around. This just happened to be where my head is at today.
The best thing is that tonight I'm going to see The New Pornographers! Should be an awesome show!! Once again I'm looking forward to hanging out at the Pabst, having a hot cup of Alterra coffee and grooving to some awesome tunes. I'm feeling so much better already!
Adios Amigos,
L
I ate way too much between Friday and yesterday. I consumed a dozen donuts, a huge bag of popcorn, some pecan rolls, 2 pints of dove ice cream, a breakfast at IHOP, turkey dinner at my sister-in-law's, a couple (OK, 3) candy bars...that may have been it. I had some fruit and cereal in there too, and probably one balanced meal.
Writing it down actually makes me pretty ashamed of myself. What was I thinking?
Another bad thing is that I didn't go to the gym at all this weekend. I went Thursday, but Friday I went out with friends after work. Saturday I had a meeting in the morning, then drove to Green Bay to pick up a dog. Sunday I went out for breakfast, then cleaned the adoption center, staffed it until 3:00, then went for dinner at my brother's place. I don't go to the gym on Mondays because it's SO crowded it makes me uncomfortable. The last time I went on a Monday I got my locker key, put my stuff away, grabbed a towel, went to get on a treadmill, saw all the people, noticed there were no treadmills available, turned around, went to my locker, got my stuff, turned in my key and went home.
Then came yesterday. Yesterday not good.
I took the day off, ostensibly to do all the crap around the house that I didn't get to because this weekend was too busy. It was a wasted day. I made a list of everything I needed to do, then proceeded to procrastinate and not do 90% of it. What is wrong with me???
Now I'm here at work (don't worry, I get legitimate breaks and such, and this blog is relatively squeaky clean) and am ready to roll. But I can't stop thinking about my behavior these last few days and be totally ashamed of myself.
I get a strange feeling sometimes, it's almost a physical feeling, when I'm not motivated. Like yesterday, I kept telling myself to get moving and working, and I didn't. But the thing is, it's not like I'm like that all the time. Sometimes I work my ass off, am completely motivated and get plenty done. What is that all about? Biorhythms? The moon? PMS? Why is my energy level/interest/motivation so inconsistent? What caused me to eat all those terrible things over the course of 4 or 5 days? Why didn't I make time to get to the gym??
I found I do this a lot when I journal, too, ask questions with no conceivable answer. What's that all about?
There is something good though after all this. I can feel, inside, that I don't want to feel the way I did these last few days. I know this feeling. It's a change that I get when I make my mind up about something. Like when I decide I'm going to try and lose weight, or the decision I made about joining the gym.
For example, I know in my heart when it's right for me to try losing weight. It's as if a switch gets turned on. It's just that drastic. One day I'm eating completely unhealthy, and boom, I make the decision to not do it anymore (I've made that decision many, many times...I'm looking forward to the time it sticks).
Or the gym. The time to join the gym was the day I joined the gym. Not a day before or a day after. It was THAT DAY. Again, like a switch was turned on. No matter how hard anyone may have tried, there was no way I was joining the gym even a day earlier, because I wasn't ready. Maybe this is like addicted people hitting rock bottom? You know, you can't get them to change until they decide to change...
This is a weird post. I think because what I'm writing about are weird things. Binging is weird. Compulsive overeating is weird. Self-sabotage is weird.
I feel better having written, actually. :) Maybe that's some residual 12 step influence, admitting to yourself and another person (or persons, depending one who is reading this blog, and if you've gotten this far, bless you) the nature of your wrongs.
I will try not to write such a self centered post the next time around. This just happened to be where my head is at today.
The best thing is that tonight I'm going to see The New Pornographers! Should be an awesome show!! Once again I'm looking forward to hanging out at the Pabst, having a hot cup of Alterra coffee and grooving to some awesome tunes. I'm feeling so much better already!
Adios Amigos,
L
Monday, October 15, 2007
I may have met my match
I love documentaries, and I've been known to sit through some pretty rough stuff. The closest I came to walking out of a movie was when I went to see "Crumb." R. Crumb can be so utterly tasteless and horrible. But I stayed and I watched it all, and it is, in fact, a very good movie. In spite of everything, the guy is an artist, he had a really crappy life and this fuels his work, and I'm all for free speech and artistic expression.
However, I may have met my match in Deliver Us From Evil. It's the story of a priest who continually molested children (male and female) and (as I found out yesterday) abused their parents sexually for 30 years, while the Catholic church shuttled him from parish to parish.
I actually stopped watching and I'm not sure I can go back. I was so disgusted, saddened, angered, and absolutely sickened.
This movie hit close to home for many reasons. I'll tell you now, I was never molested by a priest. However, the child victims interviewed were all right around my age, one in particular was just a few months younger than I, and the pictures they'd show of these kids looked exactly like pictures of myself that had been taken around that time. First communions, etc. I remember so well the reverence I had for the church and how the priests ran the show.
Over the years I've lost interest. I haven't lost my faith, but I felt mass was just so much bull shit. That trend started long ago. I went to 3 different grade schools, finally settling at one from 4th grade to 8th. I had some good times, but really, overall, it stunk. The people at my school and parish weren't very nice or good.
Here's an example of something that took place at my grade school that pretty much sums up all the horrible crap, the discrimination, the favoritism that ran rampant until the day I left. When I was in 6th grade we had 2 home rooms. The home room that wasn't mine (thank God) had a series of contests that the kids voted on, best at playing baseball, best in math, etc. It's a bad idea, but it gets worse. The teacher set all this up, and she actually had her students vote for "prettiest girl in class." There is so much wrong there I don't even know where to begin. But that's the atmosphere in which I was educated, by people who were supposedly following in the Lord's image, you know, do unto others, you are all equal in my eyes, etc.
Around that age things started to go downhill for me, and they only got worse as kids started growing up, hitting puberty, dating, etc. Probably one of the happiest days of my life was the last day of grade school because I knew I'd never have to face that environment anymore. Of course I told my parents how much I hated it there, but alas, this was my parish school, and according to the church, I HAD to go there.
As the years passed I went to church because I lived at home and my parents expected it of me. As soon as I moved out in college I stopped going. I've gone back here and there over the years, but not really as an active participant, more just waiting for it to be over. Sad, isn't it...
The things this priest did, this Father Oliver O'Grady, are beyond horrible. His youngest rape victim was 9 months old. And where is he being interviewed? From his home in Ireland. The people he lives near don't know anything about his past in the states. And the footage they show of the church officials saying such things as "If I had found at that time that he molested boys I would have done differently" (as it was he was raping a 5 year old girl) is just so hard to listen to. This is the atmosphere in which I was raised and educated. It is real and it was happening, it was just the way the church dealt with things. How am I supposed to look at my Catholic upbringing knowing that? I know that was years ago, but the cover ups and the lies of the men in power were still being said only 2 or 3 years ago. The man who is now pope was involved at the higher levels of these scandals and chose to do nothing. And this is the leader of today's Catholic church?
Anyway, I'm probably going to turn the movie on again this evening, but whether I finish or not is an entirely different question. And that will be a first for me, to turn a film off not because it's bad, but because I can't take it. This priest was a man of God, he was supposed to heed a higher calling than the rest of us. He was revered and loved. And he used that power and position to shatter the lives of children. It's just so sad.
I'll report back whether I make it through or not. Maybe if there was some payoff at the end, if they somehow had proof that this guy would suffer for an eternity. But then I'd be watching a movie, not a documentary.
However, I may have met my match in Deliver Us From Evil. It's the story of a priest who continually molested children (male and female) and (as I found out yesterday) abused their parents sexually for 30 years, while the Catholic church shuttled him from parish to parish.
I actually stopped watching and I'm not sure I can go back. I was so disgusted, saddened, angered, and absolutely sickened.
This movie hit close to home for many reasons. I'll tell you now, I was never molested by a priest. However, the child victims interviewed were all right around my age, one in particular was just a few months younger than I, and the pictures they'd show of these kids looked exactly like pictures of myself that had been taken around that time. First communions, etc. I remember so well the reverence I had for the church and how the priests ran the show.
Over the years I've lost interest. I haven't lost my faith, but I felt mass was just so much bull shit. That trend started long ago. I went to 3 different grade schools, finally settling at one from 4th grade to 8th. I had some good times, but really, overall, it stunk. The people at my school and parish weren't very nice or good.
Here's an example of something that took place at my grade school that pretty much sums up all the horrible crap, the discrimination, the favoritism that ran rampant until the day I left. When I was in 6th grade we had 2 home rooms. The home room that wasn't mine (thank God) had a series of contests that the kids voted on, best at playing baseball, best in math, etc. It's a bad idea, but it gets worse. The teacher set all this up, and she actually had her students vote for "prettiest girl in class." There is so much wrong there I don't even know where to begin. But that's the atmosphere in which I was educated, by people who were supposedly following in the Lord's image, you know, do unto others, you are all equal in my eyes, etc.
Around that age things started to go downhill for me, and they only got worse as kids started growing up, hitting puberty, dating, etc. Probably one of the happiest days of my life was the last day of grade school because I knew I'd never have to face that environment anymore. Of course I told my parents how much I hated it there, but alas, this was my parish school, and according to the church, I HAD to go there.
As the years passed I went to church because I lived at home and my parents expected it of me. As soon as I moved out in college I stopped going. I've gone back here and there over the years, but not really as an active participant, more just waiting for it to be over. Sad, isn't it...
The things this priest did, this Father Oliver O'Grady, are beyond horrible. His youngest rape victim was 9 months old. And where is he being interviewed? From his home in Ireland. The people he lives near don't know anything about his past in the states. And the footage they show of the church officials saying such things as "If I had found at that time that he molested boys I would have done differently" (as it was he was raping a 5 year old girl) is just so hard to listen to. This is the atmosphere in which I was raised and educated. It is real and it was happening, it was just the way the church dealt with things. How am I supposed to look at my Catholic upbringing knowing that? I know that was years ago, but the cover ups and the lies of the men in power were still being said only 2 or 3 years ago. The man who is now pope was involved at the higher levels of these scandals and chose to do nothing. And this is the leader of today's Catholic church?
Anyway, I'm probably going to turn the movie on again this evening, but whether I finish or not is an entirely different question. And that will be a first for me, to turn a film off not because it's bad, but because I can't take it. This priest was a man of God, he was supposed to heed a higher calling than the rest of us. He was revered and loved. And he used that power and position to shatter the lives of children. It's just so sad.
I'll report back whether I make it through or not. Maybe if there was some payoff at the end, if they somehow had proof that this guy would suffer for an eternity. But then I'd be watching a movie, not a documentary.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Happy Birthday Big Brother
Christopher Quade
October 12, 1956 - October 10, 1994
Today is my brother Chris' birthday. He would be 51 years old. I used to joke around about how he'd never see his 40th birthday, just because he was such a wild child. I never thought I'd be right.
Chris had always been the smartest of the Quade kids. He sailed through school, he was athletic, he was so handsome. He had jet black hair, the kind that's so black it's almost blue. Beautiful grey eyes. He remains one of the funniest people I've ever known. So smart, and quick. But from college on he was a drinker and drug user, and over the years he became an alcoholic and drug addict.
The thing with Chris is that he was so stubborn, and so incredibly hot-tempered that he'd never ask for help, and God forbid if you offered him any. I don't know if there's anything I could have said or done that would have kept him clean. Of course you wonder that a lot after they're gone. I know my folks had it the worst, since they raised him. They couldn't help but agonize over what went wrong. But as a friend, whose sister died much the same way as Chris, told me, he got to a place where we couldn't help him. It's not his fault. It's the nature of addiction. I know I'm a recovering food addict, my oldest brother is recovering alcoholic and drug addict. But Chris, he just kept going. It's so unbelievably sad for me to think about. This beautiful person's life was simply snuffed out one day. He was just gone. And I'll never see him again.
And he was so loved. Everyone loved him. His wake was overflowing with friends, old teachers, people whom I hadn't seen since I was a little girl in our old neighborhood came to pay their respects. Of course there were also his drug pals (people who bought from him, people who partied with him) who were in the lower level of the funeral home doing lines of coke and God only knows what else. I wonder how many of them are dead by now? I know of 2, Perry and Mike...guys I'd known since Chris was in high school. Perry died from drugs, Mike drank himself to death. Who else?
The day it happened was like any other day. I was living in Shorewood. I didn't have a car, so I'd taken the bus in to work. As I came in my coworker Sue said, "Your dad called, he wants you to call him at home." I wasn't particularly alarmed. My dad worked at Marquette too, and his office was directly behind the building I was in, so we'd see each other and whatnot. And I talked with my parents often enough that hearing from them at work wasn't particularly odd. So I get to the phone and call home, and my dad answers. I say "What's up?" He says "Is there someone there with you?" I said "Sure, most of the folks are here." Then he said "I've got terrible news." My heart sank. Thankfully he didn't wait long to tell me "Your brother Christopher has died." All I could say was "How?" and he said he didn't know. Then I just started sobbing. I worked in a big open room and I'd known everyone for years, they were all friends, and they crowded around me. I don't know what I would have done without them. Then Sue got her coat, went to her car and picked me up to take me to my parents' house. I was in another world. The next few days were some of the worst in my life.
I learned a lot though, over those few days. I'd lost people before, but they had fit in the vast scheme of things; grandparents mostly. But to lose someone so young, so quickly...I learned how grief works. I learned how kind people can be during a loss. I learned that some people can't handle it and will avoid you (and that's OK, I know how hard it is...but it made me less afraid to talk to people in the same situation, and not to pretend it didn't happen). I learned just how much my parents loved him. I learned my dad could cry like a child. I learned the ins and outs of planning a funeral, and all the funeral etiquette that goes with it. I learned just how many people out there knew and loved my brother.
How it happened was, he'd been celebrating his birthday (early, obviously...he loved his birthday) the night he died. He took something, I actually don't remember what...a speedball maybe? As the party went on, he laid down and died. That was that. And what happened then is, all his friends who were there left. That's what druggies do. They knew (or thought) if they stayed they'd be arrested because of all the drugs and paraphernelia. Maybe that's true, I don't know. They did make a call to the police almost immediately, anonymously. But they left him there. That might be the saddest thing of all.
I know this post is a bummer, but I've never really written any of this down, any of what happened then. I remember it like it happened yesterday. Every time his birthday rolls around I relive it, to a greater or lesser extent. I find the whole experience a testament of the kind of things we can endure. Life keeps moving.
I still miss him. He's not there to celebrate holidays anymore, or to call me on my birthday and sing to me over the phone. The last such call was on my 29th birthday, he and his friend Kuzi called me at about 2:30 am and sang a drunken version of Shiloh, with my name inserted where Shiloh should be..."Leslie, when I was young..." I laughed my ass off.
So, I miss you brother, I really do. How I wish things were different. How I wish you had gone a different route. How I wish you could have cured whatever demons plagued you. My favorite time was when Chris moved back home after a car accident. I was in high school, about 15 or 16. He knew he could get me to do anything for him. He'd just give me this sideways glance and say "Leslie? Please?" He'd call me in the room to change the channels for him, get him some soda, whatever. And I loved it. I loved him. I still love him.
:) As they say, "I'll mourn ya till I join ya."
October 12, 1956 - October 10, 1994
Today is my brother Chris' birthday. He would be 51 years old. I used to joke around about how he'd never see his 40th birthday, just because he was such a wild child. I never thought I'd be right.
Chris had always been the smartest of the Quade kids. He sailed through school, he was athletic, he was so handsome. He had jet black hair, the kind that's so black it's almost blue. Beautiful grey eyes. He remains one of the funniest people I've ever known. So smart, and quick. But from college on he was a drinker and drug user, and over the years he became an alcoholic and drug addict.
The thing with Chris is that he was so stubborn, and so incredibly hot-tempered that he'd never ask for help, and God forbid if you offered him any. I don't know if there's anything I could have said or done that would have kept him clean. Of course you wonder that a lot after they're gone. I know my folks had it the worst, since they raised him. They couldn't help but agonize over what went wrong. But as a friend, whose sister died much the same way as Chris, told me, he got to a place where we couldn't help him. It's not his fault. It's the nature of addiction. I know I'm a recovering food addict, my oldest brother is recovering alcoholic and drug addict. But Chris, he just kept going. It's so unbelievably sad for me to think about. This beautiful person's life was simply snuffed out one day. He was just gone. And I'll never see him again.
And he was so loved. Everyone loved him. His wake was overflowing with friends, old teachers, people whom I hadn't seen since I was a little girl in our old neighborhood came to pay their respects. Of course there were also his drug pals (people who bought from him, people who partied with him) who were in the lower level of the funeral home doing lines of coke and God only knows what else. I wonder how many of them are dead by now? I know of 2, Perry and Mike...guys I'd known since Chris was in high school. Perry died from drugs, Mike drank himself to death. Who else?
The day it happened was like any other day. I was living in Shorewood. I didn't have a car, so I'd taken the bus in to work. As I came in my coworker Sue said, "Your dad called, he wants you to call him at home." I wasn't particularly alarmed. My dad worked at Marquette too, and his office was directly behind the building I was in, so we'd see each other and whatnot. And I talked with my parents often enough that hearing from them at work wasn't particularly odd. So I get to the phone and call home, and my dad answers. I say "What's up?" He says "Is there someone there with you?" I said "Sure, most of the folks are here." Then he said "I've got terrible news." My heart sank. Thankfully he didn't wait long to tell me "Your brother Christopher has died." All I could say was "How?" and he said he didn't know. Then I just started sobbing. I worked in a big open room and I'd known everyone for years, they were all friends, and they crowded around me. I don't know what I would have done without them. Then Sue got her coat, went to her car and picked me up to take me to my parents' house. I was in another world. The next few days were some of the worst in my life.
I learned a lot though, over those few days. I'd lost people before, but they had fit in the vast scheme of things; grandparents mostly. But to lose someone so young, so quickly...I learned how grief works. I learned how kind people can be during a loss. I learned that some people can't handle it and will avoid you (and that's OK, I know how hard it is...but it made me less afraid to talk to people in the same situation, and not to pretend it didn't happen). I learned just how much my parents loved him. I learned my dad could cry like a child. I learned the ins and outs of planning a funeral, and all the funeral etiquette that goes with it. I learned just how many people out there knew and loved my brother.
How it happened was, he'd been celebrating his birthday (early, obviously...he loved his birthday) the night he died. He took something, I actually don't remember what...a speedball maybe? As the party went on, he laid down and died. That was that. And what happened then is, all his friends who were there left. That's what druggies do. They knew (or thought) if they stayed they'd be arrested because of all the drugs and paraphernelia. Maybe that's true, I don't know. They did make a call to the police almost immediately, anonymously. But they left him there. That might be the saddest thing of all.
I know this post is a bummer, but I've never really written any of this down, any of what happened then. I remember it like it happened yesterday. Every time his birthday rolls around I relive it, to a greater or lesser extent. I find the whole experience a testament of the kind of things we can endure. Life keeps moving.
I still miss him. He's not there to celebrate holidays anymore, or to call me on my birthday and sing to me over the phone. The last such call was on my 29th birthday, he and his friend Kuzi called me at about 2:30 am and sang a drunken version of Shiloh, with my name inserted where Shiloh should be..."Leslie, when I was young..." I laughed my ass off.
So, I miss you brother, I really do. How I wish things were different. How I wish you had gone a different route. How I wish you could have cured whatever demons plagued you. My favorite time was when Chris moved back home after a car accident. I was in high school, about 15 or 16. He knew he could get me to do anything for him. He'd just give me this sideways glance and say "Leslie? Please?" He'd call me in the room to change the channels for him, get him some soda, whatever. And I loved it. I loved him. I still love him.
:) As they say, "I'll mourn ya till I join ya."
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Busy, busy, busy...
Hola Amigos,
Spoon was great. Next week it's New Pornographers, and then I'm show-less for a while, at least until March. I'm sure that someone I want to see will be here between now and Pink Martini on St. Pat's day.
I've got a busy weekend planned. On Saturday I'm getting trained for dog walking at MADACC and getting my hair cut. Then Sunday it's coffee with friends, cleaning and staffing the adoption center (usually comes out to about 6 hours total) and whatever else I can cram in when I'm done there (meaning cleaning, laundry, etc.). I should be cloned.
Don't get me wrong, there are many, many things I just love about my swinging single lifestyle. But sometimes I'd just like to be able to have a back up. Not someone to do everything, but someone to do some things. Raking. Lawnmowing. Snow shoveling. Buy groceries. Fix things. Pay bills. These are all things I'm fully capable of doing (to a better or worse extent). But sometimes I get tired of doing it all alone. Of course, I'm far too set in my ways to ever have another roommate. The older I got the more I felt like if I ever got married or seriously involved with someone, I'd still want to keep my own house. I don't know when (if ever) I'll be ready to give that up!
I lived with roommates from the time I was 18 (and up to that point I lived with my family, which in some ways is worse) until I was 32. That was more than long enough. And even after ten years I STILL enjoy living alone. But it's not always a picnic I assure you. By the way, I don't want to imply that the only reason I'd want to be with someone is that they can help me with housework! Sometimes I really do want to have someone in my corner, an advocate, a built in friend. I don't know. There are ups and downs to both living alone and living with someone. Right now I'm just feeling the downs is all. But some days I absolutely pride myself on my self-sufficiency. And I absolutely love my personal space, man.
I just got an email from someone asking me if I want to go out for drinks tomorrow night after work. You know, I really don't want to. And it's not even that I have anything specific planned. Actually, maybe it's because I don't have anything planned. It'll be the first night this week that I don't have something I need to do (like tonight, for example, I have to go to Petsmart and finalize an adoption). Which means that I can just go home and chill. Read my paper. Do my crossword puzzle. Watch a movie, or listen to music. Snuggle with my dog.
Especially my dog. She's a wonderful creature. I love her so much. And I already leave her alone 8 or 9 hours a day during the week. She means that much to me that I would actually rather stay home on a Friday night with her than go out with friends. She's sat there waiting for me all day. I come home, and then I just turn around and leave again? I didn't get her so that I could leave her for 12 hours...I WANT to stay home with her.
But of course my friends (these are friends who don't know about this blog so there's no way they'd read it) always bust my chops about it. I'm flattered, because I know they like to be with me (and I with them) but there are no dog owners in this group, and no parents either (or maybe 1 or 2 parents, but they have grown children). So they just think I'm being a stick in the mud. Believe me, back in the day I could party with the best of them. But inside I was always more of a homebody. And at 42 I've reached a stage where I do not like spending time doing things I don't want to do!
Also, they want to go to Bayshore for this outing. I'm not that impressed with Bayshore. I mean, we essentially bar hop from one chain restaurant to another. And to top it all off, I don't drink! I'm not a teetotaller or anything. I've just lost my taste for alcohol over the years. First of all, I'm allergic to red wine (and I LOVE red wine, so this is a tough one). White wine turns me red and sweaty, as does beer (and I have rosacea, so it's not just unattractive, it actually gets progressively worse with each flare up).
I enjoy vodka plenty, but it's not like I need to have it. I'm perfectly happy having a soda, or water. I like martinis, cosmos, etc., but never feel compelled to have them. I always feel bad when people come over because the most I can offer them is water. Maybe soy milk. I mean, I rarely buy soda or liquor. Only if I'm planning on having people over, and then it's extremely difficult because i just don't know what people drink! I mean, I literally drink water and coffee. If I go out to dinner or I'm at someone's house, I'll have soda, maybe iced tea or lemonade. But on any given day you could rest assured that coffee and water are the only two liquids in my system.
I don't know why, I guess I like the simplicity? Maybe I've gotten drunk enough in the past that I don't feel the need to go through it again? Actually, there's a lot of truth in that. I don't know if I could conceivably live through a hangover again. They get worse with age, and my last one (which was probably 10 or 12 years ago) was a doozy.
Anyway, to get back to my original point, I don't want to go out tomorrow night.
Sorry, this post kind of ended up everywhere. I had planned to write about my upcoming weekend, and a little about my single lifestyle. Then this email invitation came and I went off on a tangent. My apologies.
But this is probably a good peek inside my head. This is how I think! Scary, isn't it?
Spoon was great. Next week it's New Pornographers, and then I'm show-less for a while, at least until March. I'm sure that someone I want to see will be here between now and Pink Martini on St. Pat's day.
I've got a busy weekend planned. On Saturday I'm getting trained for dog walking at MADACC and getting my hair cut. Then Sunday it's coffee with friends, cleaning and staffing the adoption center (usually comes out to about 6 hours total) and whatever else I can cram in when I'm done there (meaning cleaning, laundry, etc.). I should be cloned.
Don't get me wrong, there are many, many things I just love about my swinging single lifestyle. But sometimes I'd just like to be able to have a back up. Not someone to do everything, but someone to do some things. Raking. Lawnmowing. Snow shoveling. Buy groceries. Fix things. Pay bills. These are all things I'm fully capable of doing (to a better or worse extent). But sometimes I get tired of doing it all alone. Of course, I'm far too set in my ways to ever have another roommate. The older I got the more I felt like if I ever got married or seriously involved with someone, I'd still want to keep my own house. I don't know when (if ever) I'll be ready to give that up!
I lived with roommates from the time I was 18 (and up to that point I lived with my family, which in some ways is worse) until I was 32. That was more than long enough. And even after ten years I STILL enjoy living alone. But it's not always a picnic I assure you. By the way, I don't want to imply that the only reason I'd want to be with someone is that they can help me with housework! Sometimes I really do want to have someone in my corner, an advocate, a built in friend. I don't know. There are ups and downs to both living alone and living with someone. Right now I'm just feeling the downs is all. But some days I absolutely pride myself on my self-sufficiency. And I absolutely love my personal space, man.
I just got an email from someone asking me if I want to go out for drinks tomorrow night after work. You know, I really don't want to. And it's not even that I have anything specific planned. Actually, maybe it's because I don't have anything planned. It'll be the first night this week that I don't have something I need to do (like tonight, for example, I have to go to Petsmart and finalize an adoption). Which means that I can just go home and chill. Read my paper. Do my crossword puzzle. Watch a movie, or listen to music. Snuggle with my dog.
Especially my dog. She's a wonderful creature. I love her so much. And I already leave her alone 8 or 9 hours a day during the week. She means that much to me that I would actually rather stay home on a Friday night with her than go out with friends. She's sat there waiting for me all day. I come home, and then I just turn around and leave again? I didn't get her so that I could leave her for 12 hours...I WANT to stay home with her.
But of course my friends (these are friends who don't know about this blog so there's no way they'd read it) always bust my chops about it. I'm flattered, because I know they like to be with me (and I with them) but there are no dog owners in this group, and no parents either (or maybe 1 or 2 parents, but they have grown children). So they just think I'm being a stick in the mud. Believe me, back in the day I could party with the best of them. But inside I was always more of a homebody. And at 42 I've reached a stage where I do not like spending time doing things I don't want to do!
Also, they want to go to Bayshore for this outing. I'm not that impressed with Bayshore. I mean, we essentially bar hop from one chain restaurant to another. And to top it all off, I don't drink! I'm not a teetotaller or anything. I've just lost my taste for alcohol over the years. First of all, I'm allergic to red wine (and I LOVE red wine, so this is a tough one). White wine turns me red and sweaty, as does beer (and I have rosacea, so it's not just unattractive, it actually gets progressively worse with each flare up).
I enjoy vodka plenty, but it's not like I need to have it. I'm perfectly happy having a soda, or water. I like martinis, cosmos, etc., but never feel compelled to have them. I always feel bad when people come over because the most I can offer them is water. Maybe soy milk. I mean, I rarely buy soda or liquor. Only if I'm planning on having people over, and then it's extremely difficult because i just don't know what people drink! I mean, I literally drink water and coffee. If I go out to dinner or I'm at someone's house, I'll have soda, maybe iced tea or lemonade. But on any given day you could rest assured that coffee and water are the only two liquids in my system.
I don't know why, I guess I like the simplicity? Maybe I've gotten drunk enough in the past that I don't feel the need to go through it again? Actually, there's a lot of truth in that. I don't know if I could conceivably live through a hangover again. They get worse with age, and my last one (which was probably 10 or 12 years ago) was a doozy.
Anyway, to get back to my original point, I don't want to go out tomorrow night.
Sorry, this post kind of ended up everywhere. I had planned to write about my upcoming weekend, and a little about my single lifestyle. Then this email invitation came and I went off on a tangent. My apologies.
But this is probably a good peek inside my head. This is how I think! Scary, isn't it?
Monday, October 8, 2007
Show tonight!
For some reason I haven't figured out, the links I have in here aren't working, so if you really want to follow these (you're not obligated) just cut and paste until I can figure it out. Spoon will definitely be worth the effort, the others are a crapshoot.
Yup, I'm going to the Pabst again tonight. I was just there to see Of Montreal on Thursday. Great show...one of the opening acts was hilarious, Grand Buffet, a very strange rap duo http://www.grandbuffet.com/. They were so funny and lively. They reminded me why I love watching live music so much, even if I don't know who the people are. These guys are out there doing their own gutsy thing and I just had to hand it to them.
Here's Of Montreal's site: http://www.ofmontreal.net/flashsite/index.html
And tonight, it's Spoon! They were on SNL this weekend. I don't watch that show, but I tuned in to see them. They were great!!! So if you watched SNL, that was Spoon you saw on there. I hope you stayed tuned.
I can hardly wait, this should be an awesome show. Go here to listen to some of their stuff and watch a video from Letterman. Do yourself a favor and listen to The Underdog on the little i-Pod thingy. That's the song on the video too.
http://www.pabsttheater.org/spoon.html
And here's their website: http://www.spoontheband.com/
So, yes, another show, and I can hardly wait. I swear, the Pabst has gone batty with the bands they're getting, they are booking incredible, cutting edge performers, and Milwaukee is so damn lucky (and judging from the crowd, they know it!). I bet tonight will be packed. Frankly the bands are lucky too, that theatre is gorgeous. So tonight I'll get there around 8:00, get me a hot cup of Alterra java and sit and listen to some righteous tunes.
I have to hand it to Therese, my good buddy, who accompanies me to all these shows and generally has no idea who we're going to see. She did give me carte blanche after The Decemberists show, and she's become a big fan of The Evens since we saw them at MSOE last year (and they kicked ass, BTW). http://www.dischord.com/band/evens
Therese is such a good sport, a much better sport than I am. I'm extremely fussy about shows and things and generally would rather stay home unless it's something I want to see, but she's just willing to take a chance and she'll just go and have a great time. I have to hand it to her.
I SO do not want to work today. I had a busy (but fun) weekend and I could use about 20,000 more days off.
Anyway, I'm off to finish the day here, and then off to the Pabst!
Yup, I'm going to the Pabst again tonight. I was just there to see Of Montreal on Thursday. Great show...one of the opening acts was hilarious, Grand Buffet, a very strange rap duo http://www.grandbuffet.com/. They were so funny and lively. They reminded me why I love watching live music so much, even if I don't know who the people are. These guys are out there doing their own gutsy thing and I just had to hand it to them.
Here's Of Montreal's site: http://www.ofmontreal.net/flashsite/index.html
And tonight, it's Spoon! They were on SNL this weekend. I don't watch that show, but I tuned in to see them. They were great!!! So if you watched SNL, that was Spoon you saw on there. I hope you stayed tuned.
I can hardly wait, this should be an awesome show. Go here to listen to some of their stuff and watch a video from Letterman. Do yourself a favor and listen to The Underdog on the little i-Pod thingy. That's the song on the video too.
http://www.pabsttheater.org/spoon.html
And here's their website: http://www.spoontheband.com/
So, yes, another show, and I can hardly wait. I swear, the Pabst has gone batty with the bands they're getting, they are booking incredible, cutting edge performers, and Milwaukee is so damn lucky (and judging from the crowd, they know it!). I bet tonight will be packed. Frankly the bands are lucky too, that theatre is gorgeous. So tonight I'll get there around 8:00, get me a hot cup of Alterra java and sit and listen to some righteous tunes.
I have to hand it to Therese, my good buddy, who accompanies me to all these shows and generally has no idea who we're going to see. She did give me carte blanche after The Decemberists show, and she's become a big fan of The Evens since we saw them at MSOE last year (and they kicked ass, BTW). http://www.dischord.com/band/evens
Therese is such a good sport, a much better sport than I am. I'm extremely fussy about shows and things and generally would rather stay home unless it's something I want to see, but she's just willing to take a chance and she'll just go and have a great time. I have to hand it to her.
I SO do not want to work today. I had a busy (but fun) weekend and I could use about 20,000 more days off.
Anyway, I'm off to finish the day here, and then off to the Pabst!
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Funny People
I've been blessed with many very funny friends. I don't think I've ever gone a day without laughing in my life, no matter how bad a day it was. I was thinking just now about some of the very memorable, funny things people I know have said to me, and I decided to list some of them. Don't worry if you're a friend and I've left you off, these just happen to be things that sprung to mind, they're not like my top 5 or anything. But here are a few that I think will translate well in the blog environment.
Me to a coworker, Kevin: (After viewing a particularly gross set of pictures in a medical journal): Oh my gosh, the woman in this picture has no nose!
Kevin: So I guess she's not wearing glasses then.
Leslie (to 2 of her students, Matt and Nate, who happened to be brothers): Know what I want you guys to do today?
Matt: Fight to the death?
Leslie: Pat, I've got a question for you.
Pat: Computers. (You won't get this unless you're an SCTV fan, but if you get it, you know it's funny).
Here's my friend Dennis' rendition of I Walk the Line:
I keep a close watch on this heart of mine
I keep my eyes wide open all the time
I keep my pants up with a piece of twine
So if you're mine, just pull the twine
Here's something funny I said to my friend Tim. He's a very handsome dude, and I love him, and I used to tease him terribly (he's the kid brother I never had). We were at lunch once and he was talking about his upcoming haircut. At the time another very handsome man walked by (like drop dead) and I said to Tim: "Why don't you get your hair like that guy? Actually, why don't you get your face like that guy?" Hehe...
My sister's friend Jon at a Japanese restaurant:
"You're out of miso soup? Me so sad."
While at Great America my friends and I decided to eat at Aunt Martha's Boarding House. As we looked over the menu we were commenting on how costly it was, and that we think it's a front and actually a brothel, not a boarding house. My friend John then says "Yeah, and Aunt Martha's the cheapest thing on the menu."
On the same day my sister also made a hilarious comment about the juxtaposition of words at a food stand there, Natchez Nachos because New Orleans is known for its nachos.
Anyway, those are some funnies. Yes, there are many, many more, and many, many friends who rank right up there as the funniest people I know. I will jot more lines down as I think of them. The scenarios I just wrote up here all make me smile, even though some of them occurred years and years ago.
All these folks deserve props from me for being damned funny!!!
Me to a coworker, Kevin: (After viewing a particularly gross set of pictures in a medical journal): Oh my gosh, the woman in this picture has no nose!
Kevin: So I guess she's not wearing glasses then.
Leslie (to 2 of her students, Matt and Nate, who happened to be brothers): Know what I want you guys to do today?
Matt: Fight to the death?
Leslie: Pat, I've got a question for you.
Pat: Computers. (You won't get this unless you're an SCTV fan, but if you get it, you know it's funny).
Here's my friend Dennis' rendition of I Walk the Line:
I keep a close watch on this heart of mine
I keep my eyes wide open all the time
I keep my pants up with a piece of twine
So if you're mine, just pull the twine
Here's something funny I said to my friend Tim. He's a very handsome dude, and I love him, and I used to tease him terribly (he's the kid brother I never had). We were at lunch once and he was talking about his upcoming haircut. At the time another very handsome man walked by (like drop dead) and I said to Tim: "Why don't you get your hair like that guy? Actually, why don't you get your face like that guy?" Hehe...
My sister's friend Jon at a Japanese restaurant:
"You're out of miso soup? Me so sad."
While at Great America my friends and I decided to eat at Aunt Martha's Boarding House. As we looked over the menu we were commenting on how costly it was, and that we think it's a front and actually a brothel, not a boarding house. My friend John then says "Yeah, and Aunt Martha's the cheapest thing on the menu."
On the same day my sister also made a hilarious comment about the juxtaposition of words at a food stand there, Natchez Nachos because New Orleans is known for its nachos.
Anyway, those are some funnies. Yes, there are many, many more, and many, many friends who rank right up there as the funniest people I know. I will jot more lines down as I think of them. The scenarios I just wrote up here all make me smile, even though some of them occurred years and years ago.
All these folks deserve props from me for being damned funny!!!
Monday, October 1, 2007
Thoughts of Elliott...
...which I'll get to soon.And another too short weekend comes to a screeching halt.
Oh, this morning was tough. I kept trying to wake up but it was like working my way through a knot-hole. I kept drifting back to sleep, and not some light, sissy sleep, but a full on, deep, REM cycle sleep, complete with dreams in which I incorporate what they're talking about on NPR (which is what I wake up to every morning) into whatever strange subconscious tale my brain comes up with. This morning that included a discussion of the park system in Michigan complete with my friend Joan riding one of those old-fashioned bicycles with the big front wheel. And I'm supposed to wake up from this??? For what? What fun is the real world when you can enjoy lunacy like that!?
So, here I am, slogging through my day. It's rainy and stupid outside. I'd so much rather be home snuggling with my dog and cats, and reading the paper, drinking coffee, listening to music.
I semi-arranged my cd collection last week. They're all sitting nicely and I've tried to reunite cds with their respective jewel boxes, with varying degrees of success. I still have 2 stacks: one of empty jewel boxes and one of cds without jewel boxes. I'm not particularly organized with my music. I try, but I usually fail after a short while. I'm constantly shifting music around in my cd player, plus I have a cd player in my car, and I'm doing a lot of downloading onto my computer so my cds move around a lot. I'm lending them to folks at work, that sort of thing. So, to the naked eye my collection looks pretty put together but it's actually not. Soon, I must order these things, then all will be well, momentarily.
I brushed off a couple of my Elliott Smith cds and played them extensively this weekend. http://www.sweetadeline.net/ I've loved Elliott for years (before he had anything to do with that horrible Good Will Hunting movie. Yes, I hated that movie. You got a problem with that?), and I found him especially helpful to me when my dad died suddenly. His music is so personal and sad, it just fit my mood and in a strange way it made me feel better. When Elliott sings and plays, it's as if he's sitting right next to you. I put Elliott into the same category I'd put some older REM recordings, among others. I call it "music to have your period by." Not that I'm having my period this very second, but it's just that kind of music... And I mean that in a very complimentary way. But Elliott does have a mood so I'm not up to hearing him 24/7. Take the last line of Rose Parade: "When they clean the street I'll be the only shit that's left behind." Regardless, he is one of my favorites.
Ever since he died I've toyed with the idea of having a tattoo of something as a tribute to him. I really do love the guy that much. Maybe it's because we share the same birthday? Or that he has (had) Ferdinand the bull tattooed on his right arm and that's a favorite book of mine? Or that I find his music so utterly touching? Or that his sadness and trouble affect me so much? I don't know. The anniversary of Elliott's death is in 3 weeks. I would seriously do that, get a tattoo for him.
I definitely want another tattoo no matter what. I currently have a lizard on my lower left leg. I got that several years ago, almost 10 years ago; it had been a horrid year. My father died, and I'd had a really terrible year full of heartbreak. Getting a tattoo made me feel in charge, in control. And it was the weird pain/pleasure rush that you get from piercings and tattoos (I've had quite a few things pierced, though the only ones left are the holes in my earlobes). It's a total trip. I wanted a lizard because I love lizards, and I liked the idea of looking down and seeing one grasping onto my leg. And you know, I've never regretted getting it, not once. So, I'm going to give some serious thought to new tattoo.
A couple of the adoption center girls and I want to go do it together, but we all have different places we want to go, so as it is we haven't gone anywhere! I guess we'll draw straws.
I REALLY hope we pick Adam Bomb!
http://www.adambombgallerie.com/
Well, my post has drifted away from Elliott so I figure that means it's time to sign off. He really was a great artist. He occupied my thoughts so much this weekend I felt I just had to say something about him. And really, who better to listen to on a gloomy, rainy day?
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