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
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
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?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
