Monday, December 19, 2011

Grief is a strange thing. It goes without saying that everyone does it differently. It brings some people closer and pulls others apart. It allows some people to soften and others it makes hard. It is private and public and everything in between. It cannot be practiced. It is always unfair.

My young soul doesn't allow me to mediate complex feelings very easily which creates quite a conundrum in situations of grief. I avoid. Vehemently. I don't attend funerals if possible and never know what to say to someone in tears. Sentimentality makes me very uncomfortable. I once peed my pants in an old folks home when I was in 5th grade because I was so anxious amongst the dying and the sad. I'm better at logistics...cook, clean, plan, anything behind the scenes, make sure the world keeps turning.

Do I do these things well? No, of course not. Grief isn't something you do well.

And then there is other people... Some folks are professionals at the overwhelming task of making others feel better. I am not one of these people. I'm not overly perceptive or gentle. I don't know the right words and have bad timing. Verbalizing my own feelings is nearly impossible which makes helping someone else with theirs painfully futile. I want to, but when I can't, there is a slippery weight added to my shoulders and an insecurity that tortures me constantly.

Now try them both at once... Working through a combination of the grief of others along with my own has proven too much for me on several occasions lately. Attack and flee has been my very unsavory reaction at times. I guess it is better than peeing my pants but still...I wish I could do better. Resisting the expectations others have for me while simultaneously hoping someone will have compassion for my own is not wise or possible, I realize. I wish there was a way to take expectations away entirely. Who is good at this? Tell me.

The weight of one thing added to another and another. Then add worry and fear and misunderstanding and someone else's thing and then another thing. It all starts to feel the same...very much like dragging a horse around. I'm not a weak person but I sure do feel like it lately. Horses are really heavy.

Perfect timing on this song. I hope she knows what she's talking about. It certainly is dark around here so hopefully that means dawn is coming.

Shake it Out by Florence + The Machine

Friday, November 4, 2011

The rainbow after the tears are gone

It is not easy to win the affection of a boyfriend's friends. The approval rating usually ends up somewhere between tolerance and murderous spite. But, nothing is more valuable to a girl trying to land a man than a "gold star" from his best friend. That is why this week is so hard. I didn't just get a thumbs up from Travis Sampley. He was my biggest fan and the feeling was mutual.

Travis, AK, and I spent the last year on a whirlwind of rowdy adventures all over Texas. We were the 3 musketeers. We did everything together it seemed. All of my most fun and memorable moments since moving to Austin included him. We traveled in a pack, literally, walking home together (he lived just a few blocks away). Inseparable barely covers it.

He was my most enthusiastic kitchen guinea pig, gobbling down even the most inedibly tough steak and over-salted fish like he was eating first class at III Forks. He rarely even asked what I was making before agreeing to come over and he always brought my favorite Zinfandel.

My constant heckling for his taste in slow, emotive music didn't

Outside Sidebar hitting on chicks
deter him at all from turning off my tunes immediately upon arrival to plug in his iPhone. Every ride in my car started with, "Have you heard the new [insert band I've never heard of here]?" and a reach for the aux cord. He invited me to the most obscure concerts and taught me why vinyl sounds best. He introduced me to music far beyond my comfort zone and I ended up eating my words every time.

Most importantly, he liked me. Not just because he was obligated to. And, I liked him. Not just because I was obligated to. I looked forward to him like he was my own pack member and eventually that's what he became.

His sudden death makes me feel strange. I'm overwhelmed with sadness with spurts of disbelief. Sharing this grief with so many people is simultaneously comforting but also selfishly difficult. I'm watching my man's heart break and it is unimaginably painful. I don't think I'm alone in wishing that there could be just one more moment to say goodbye. In situations like this, I suppose it is natural. But, what would I say if I had that chance?


After Travis' birthday party at G&S
How do you put into words the solidarity of a friendship that strong? How would you let them know how much you appreciate the joy they bring to your life? Could you really express how much you'll miss them and how much you don't want them to go? I doubt it. Sometimes there are just no words. That is the blessing of death I guess. You can't and so you don't. You just feel it and know it and that has to be enough.

His absence will also be distinctly felt and known...at every party, at every bar, at every concert. His absence will just be distinct. Because someone like Travis doesn't go unnoticed.

I'm sending love and healing to his family and friends. We might have lost a rare one, but there isn't enough gratitude in the universe to match the thanks I have to have known him.

That's How Strong My Love Is by Ryan Bingham

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Men of the Stacks

As I've mentioned before, I have a soft spot and intense fascination with male librarians (guybrarians). They have a strange sexiness...stoic, moody, evolved, and best of all, smart. These are qualities rarely found in the broader male population.

Since there is one librarian I think still has a look at this blog, I couldn't help posting this in his honor.

http://menofthestacks.com/

Great quote from the site:
"We are, of course, professionals. We are educators, programmers, project managers, entrepreneurs, program coordinators, contractors, consultants, and speakers. We are academics. We are authors, diversity officers, historians, administrators, deans, professors, and researchers. We are creatives. We are musicians, bakers, painters, and storytellers. We are athletes, yogis, gym-rats, runners, and hikers. We are passionate. We are dog-lovers, radicals, conservatives, Christians, and Buddhists. We are in our twenties. We are in our forties. We are in relationships. We are perpetual bachelors. We are privileged beings who try to use their advantages to better the lives of others."

Indeed. Hope you're well, Mr. Library of Congress.

(I wouldn't be surprised at all to see him in this most appreciated publication.)

Monday, October 3, 2011

Ten Four

As another birthday draws near, I'm doing my usual self-assessment. I like to take stock annually and then decide what gets to stay and what gets the boot. I also make resolutions. I much prefer b-days to the end of the calendar year for making resolutions. For one, no one gives a shit about your resolutions if you make them at the same time as everyone else because everyone is too busy with their own. I usually require assistance with change and therefore get much better participation rates if I choose an off day. Also, there is something about "10 Four!" that sounds official, like I actually better try to complete the tasks or be made to do push ups.

I avoid push ups at all cost.

A few weeks ago I came across a phrase that resonated: the other side of someday. I think it is a lyric. I like it because I'm often guilty of living/wallowing in futuristic hypotheticals and sometimes need to be reminded to enjoy and live the present. This year, when I performed the birthday metaphorical MRI, I was relieved to find out I that I may indeed be on the other side of someday. I'm very near or exactly where I want to be. For once.

I chatted with my mom a few years ago about the two paths folks can take in life. The first is the marriage/kids/house path. The other is the wild/unexpected/free path. My mom and I agreed that you simply cannot have both simultaneously. You have to choose. You can do it all but you have to do just one at a time or you risk pulling yourself too thin and generally doing a lousy job at both. At the time, I was whining to my mom about how all the friends my age had houses and boats and diamond rings. I had a metro pass, a lame-ass boyfriend, and a shih tzu. I had walked away from all the forks in the road for the marriage/kids/house route. I wondered if I had made the wrong choice. She reminded me that I had lived in some amazing places and seen some amazing things. I had lots to show for my life, she insisted. Bless her.

I'm so glad now that i chose the wild path. I won't doubt it again. I may not have the burden of property or stretch marks or a divorce lawyer at age 31, but, dammit, I have other things. I've got a kick ass man, a pretty cool job, low debt, few wrinkles, and no regret. As far as birthday wishes go, anything I think of will probably seem wildly overzealous since I already have everything that I want. I'll still ask to win the lottery of course. Global peace and harmony is just futile really.

Birthday debauchery has already begun with a champagne limo ride to Miranda Lambert and the Pistol Annies. If that isn't the other side of someday, I don't know what is. Getting old is pretty damn fabulous!

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Kind of like being hit by a bus...only way more awesome

In honor of the 10th anniversary of the legendary Austin City Limits Music Festival (and because my lust for music is rapid and insatiable), I couldn't resist expressing some gratitude. Also, I can hardly sit still with all the excitement for my 3rd festival. Work is an irritating distraction.

My appetite for music is hereditary, given to me by equal parts crazy rockin' mama and dance floor karaoke extraordinaire pops. I cannot imagine a time in my life music wasn't playing. Even as an infant I was lulled to sleep by Aerosmith and George Straight. My new life in Austin has indulged my craving for tunes and I may be forever hooked on the unending, unspeakably amazing music that passes through this town.

I was talking to a friend and fellow music lover about those moments watching live music where one is simply stunned into blissful silence, unable to move, talk, or hear anything but the music. Afterward, that moment is permanently and vividly tattooed into memory. The song's meaning is forever changed and you cannot listen to it without being transported back. You're the same age, doing the same thing with the same people in an instant when you hear that song.

I was thrilled to know someone else had those moments and I was even more tickled that some of those moments AK and I had had together. Not necessarily together together. But, at the same time on our own at the same shows. These are private moments, you see. But it is wonderful to know that the person standing next to you at the concert had felt the same. I was almost getting choked up talking about it. I strongly recommend these brief jolts of harmony to everyone...if you haven't had one, you haven't lived.

Also, when I thought about it, a number of mine have indeed happened at the ACL Festival. I don't always even LOVE the song, but feeling was powerful. Here are some of my favorites (actual recordings from ACL):

Everybody Knows, John Legend, 2009 (This was worth not finding my friends again for the rest of the day.)


Paris, Grace Potter and the Nocturnals, 2010 (she had people in line at 11am wondering where the hell she had been their whole life)


Sweet Disposition, The Temper Trap, 2010 (this song drifted beautifully across the whole park...everyone stopped to listen even if you'd never heard the song before)


Home, Edward Sharpe, 2010 (i pretty much stood in stunned silence this whole show but this song was one of the best...tied with 40 Day Dream)


Uprising, Muse, 2010 (his guitar playing was ethereal)


And Phoenix. And Kings of Leon. And Andrew Bird. And Ryan Bingham, Bassnectar, Carolyn Wonderland... And that's only 2 year's worth.

Friday, July 29, 2011

Between work and hurt and whiskey

On this day one year ago, I ate Chinese take-out from one of my favorite places in DC and then closed the door on the most important chapter of my life so far to begin a new adventure in Texas. I cried on the way to the airport as I watched my beautiful city go past, knowing it wasn't my city anymore. And then I cried most of the flight. And then I cried some more. Saying goodbye to my most precious and long-time friends, friends that had pretty much become my family, was one of the most terrifying and sad moments I've had.

I've thought about that day almost every day since with varied emotion. I'm overwhelmingly lonely at times but also grateful that I was able to shed the stale life I was living in DC for something new and different. I didn't know then if it would work out and I still don't. But, here I am.

Trying to replace my dear friends was the hardest. It was hard because it simply cannot be done. I get that now. The realization was, briefly, quite hopeless. But, now I try to remind myself that new friends can't be made overnight and being comfortable doesn't always come easily. That was the whole point of this move, after all, Rach. Comfort and me have always been at odds. It is one of my most devastating and delightful psychological defects.

Luckily, Austin has its charms. A city so full of music can heal even the most damaged outlook on life. I love the area and weather and calendar of events. I found an amazing man and some good friends to show me the lay of this very strange, very large land. I've shot guns, rode horses, cooked over flames, two stepped, smoked joints, and watched football, just like a real Texan. My boots are properly worn in.

I've also made my small mark. Some people in Austin now say darling with a little more daawwwwl. Folks sworn to hunting dogs have a new-found soft spot for Shih Tzus. Corn and Velveeta are becoming dietary staples. Muumuus are...um...ok, fine, still not in style, but I've only been here a year. There is hope.

One year in, I'm really happy to be here of course. But, I still miss the familiarity of my East Coast life a lot and, most of all, I miss my people. Tonight the whiskey I intend to drink will be both celebratory and therapeutic. DC may get a few drunken phone calls tonight from a happy/sad Texan.

Don't Think I Don't Think About It by Darius Rucker

Friday, April 15, 2011

Take that woman down

My man works in politics. And not just any politics...Texas politics. And in Texas, politics are a strange obsession, simultaneously fiercely serious and unadulterated good times. For instance, the other day when Texas legislature was tasked with passing the state budget (an ambitious and noble task even for a tiny, poor, boring state) I decided to swing by beau's office to see the process in action. I had heard that most public servants around here keep whiskey in their desk drawers which I can now confirm.

We had a nip and watched the budget discussion on television. Keep in mind that passing the budget in Texas is serious shit, not like DC budget pishposh at all. You simply cannot shut down the government of Texas and get away with it. Texan constituents carry guns. You've seen No Country For Old Men. They aren't effing around.

The best part was that these folks had been at it all day and were predicted to continue with their "policy making" well into the night. However, the man with the gavel attempting to maintain order was giggling like a Cheshire cat and swaying dangerously on his little podium. He was not young. I feared for his hips. It was 7:30pm.

Around 3:30 am, I am home, sound asleep where I belong. I get a text message from beau asking if I cared for a swim with him and some fellow political staff members proud of a hard day's work. I could tell from the typos in the text that the budget was alive and well on Planet Texas. I never pass on a chance for middle-of-the-night mischief and I find it hilarious to see official-looking people strip off their suits and ties and do cannon balls into a freezing pool in a drunken stupor. Apparently, making law in this state involves three simple things: copious quantities of alcohol, a concealed handgun license, and an understanding lover.

I look forward to the day the 82nd legislative session ends with an urgency comparable only to waiting in line for the port-a-potty at an outdoor music festival after 9 beers. It just cannot get here fast enough. But, I have to confess that the conversations I get to listen in on entertain me wholeheartedly and I oddly appreciated the devotion beau and his comrades have for the hypnotic gypsy woman they all lust after called Texas Politics. But, in May, I will absolutely not hesitate to steal that woman's mojo hands and send her on her way, not to return for another 2 years.


Medicine by Grace Potter and the Nocturnals

Thursday, March 31, 2011

Shockingly, I did manage to retain some information from SXSW Interactive. One interesting session I attended was how to choose and manage a successful team. I do not manage employees myself, but I've worked at an organization with absolutely no concept of team, teamwork, or management skills so I was intrigued.

One analogy that I particularly enjoyed was a spin on operating a motorcycle. Motorcycles, being fast, bouncy, windy deathtraps with no balance and terrible acoustics are typically of no interest to me. However, my Dad drives a Harley and I'm obligated to compliment it when I am in Nebraska. My Dad also likes analogies.

The presenter had taken the required riding course and used the instruction to "look not at what you might hit but instead where you wish to go." If you look at obstructions in the road, you will probably hit them. I guess that's how you avoid a head injury when driving motorcycles and be an effective manager. Charming.

It is easy to dwell on possible immediate threats instead of looking willfully to the distance. I actually used to be good at this but overdraft fees, 40 hours a week in a cube, and dating in Washington, DC beat it out of me. I look straight down or slightly to the side from now on personally. And you should too if you don't want to be a naively idealistic, chronically-unsatisfied doormat. I should give it another try though. Really, I should.

Along those lines (but mostly unrelated), I am moving in with a male later this week. It is equal parts terrifying and thrilling, shaken, then gently stirred, with a lovesick garnish. Luckily, he is truly amazing and he gets along with my dog. It is predicted to be the best thing in the history of cohabitation. If there was ever a time to look at where I want to be instead of what I might smack painfully into face-first, it is now. He doesn't have a motorcycle but he does have a truck so I think I'm safe.

Totally unrelated...there was an armadillo walking down the sidewalk outside my apartment on Friday. That is TEXAN!

http://notbeige.blogspot.com

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Guilty Filthy Soul

I survived my first SXSW in Austin with relatively minimal brain damage and only minor bodily harm. Just so I remember for next year, here are some tips for having a kickass SXSW and making it out alive (even making it to work the following Monday).

1. Plan to brave it alone.

Like traveling abroad, I was having trouble finding someone who shared both my enthusiasm for the event and a similar or complementary list of bands to see. In a moment of diva independence, I bought the wristband anyway. Muttering "Hell with it. I'll go by my damn self," I vowed to let music, not another person, be my guide. I'm not popular in this town yet and I figured it would help me befriend some like-minded music lovers at the very least.

2. Find someone to see music with.

As the event neared and the town started to fill up with scary-looking, dirty-haired folks who were all far too thin and being compressed into black jeans that would put even Kate Moss into a bad mood, I decided it best not to brave it alone. So, I found some amazing characters last-minute with which to share tabs, parking permits, and mutual awe of the fine tunage. Their company elevated my fun to levels almost too much for words. I am so grateful to have shared the chaos with them and look forward to the stories we'll recollect. (Future conversations with these folks will probably start with something like "Remember when we collapsed in a beanbag pile outside Lustre Pearl and drank free beer? Yeah, I hope that idiot who unplugged your cellphone has bad sex for life.")

3. Footwear is vital.

I'm used to teetering around on platform strappy sandles. Luckily, I'm not a moron. I knew I'd be walking to and from my home (about 3 miles round trip) and back and forth from downtown to East Austin several times a day (5-10 miles). I only made one tragic footwear decision: flip flops. My feet were relentlessly gashed and stomped. I limped home in regret. I never regretted paying that much for custom cowboy boots though and I still don't. Thank you Lucchese.

4. Don't party too hard.

I actually passed a deceased person on E. 6th outside a bar. The police had given up trying to revive him but cops on motorcycles don't carry sheets to cover the dead I guess. I wondered as I walked by how long the young man laid there being tripped over before someone actually checked to see if he was breathing. It was a sad reminder that certain mixtures of booze, drugs, and music can be lethal.

5. Party your ass off.

I started each day with a few hours of work and a coffee. (Aren't I a big girl?!) Next up, toxins. I wasn't necessarily trying to get fucked up. There is just something about strolling around downtown Austin in 80 degree weather in March listening to a thunderous level of music with a little buzz. Dancing like a loon and enjoying music (the good and the bad) just doesn't feel the same without a healthy dose of poison. Also, by the end of each day, my feet were aching and my eyes were drooping. I didn't go to bed before 3am for one full week. Red Bull, you are kind and brilliant for sponsoring SXSW.

6. Go with your gut.

Sure, I could have gone to Kayne, or Perez Hilton's party, or Deer Tick on the last night of SXSW. But instead I went to AWOLNATION, which ended up being the all-time best, most fun show of the whole week. It isn't my usual style of music at all. I like to call it Marilyn Manson Lite. But, I had this strange compulsion to be there, just kinda knowing it would be amazing. This band, along with the others in the showcase, rocked my tired, weary world. I was laughing out loud with delight. If i didn't think that wearing cowboy boots while crowd surfing was unethical you can bet I would have flung myself into a sea of drunken hipsters and scrawny teenagers without question. Also, my beau and I had the most amazing time hanging out with rockstars after the show. Never question those feelings that something strange and magical will happen at SXSW...if you let it happen, it surely will.

2011 Shows
Wednesday:
Brett Dennen
DeVotchKa
Flogging Molly
Random DJ next to The Hanger

Thursday:
The Strokes
T Bird and the Breaks

Friday:
Dickies Party at Lustre Pearl
Black Joe Lewis & the Honeybears
Hayes Carll
Ryan Bingham
Robert Earl Keen
Lucinda Williams
Party at Malverde
Party at ??? (long day)

Saturday:
Filter Party at Cedar Door Courtyard
Electric Touch
Tres Mts.
AWOLNATION
Panic! At the Disco
The Bravery

Burn It Down by AWOLNATION

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

A Man and His Fish

Planet Texas Moment #587:

Took myself on a long, exploratory walk last night down one of my favorite streets in my hood, South 1st. It is a colorful street with tiny, random shops covering an array of niche commerce from cupcakes to used neon signs. The weather was superb and I haven't donned tennies since sometime last Fall. It was time.

Best part of the night was a new friendship I made with the proprietor of a hookah shop and smoking lounge. Here's a summary of the conversation...

Dude: You should totally meet my fish.

Me: Um... [eyebrow raised]

Dude: [knocking on fish tank glass] C'mon out and meet someone!

Me: Um... [wondering why the trippy music is so loud when no one else is here]

Dude: Here-e comes! Isn't he great?! He's kinda like a puppy. The kids love 'im.

Me: ...

This was, no joke, the happiest fish in history. He was a 3 foot long, obese, whiskered eel-like creature who was, as far as I could see, wiggling with delight at the sight of his owner and smiling like a Cheshire cat. I mean, this fish was literally doing the Olive "full body wag." He was equally thrilled to see me, after he was scolded for not greeting the guest. I've never quite seen anything like it.

Thanks Redline Hookah for keeping Austin (and rest of this planet) weird.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

The Next Place...and the next

I've always feared that my colleagues would discover that I'm a bit of a loon. I usually try to keep my new agey behaviors to myself, even hidden from my closest friends. Only my mom, who is biologically obligated to love me anyway, really knows about the quirky beliefs and rituals I've incorporated into my weird little life.

Now that I've moved to Austin and have to show up in an office every day to be seen by my co-workers and boss, my hippie ways are harder to hide. I did retire my desktop aromatherapy kit in exchange for a subtle bottle of pressure point cream. But, my Inner Peace Cards remain right there, front and center, for all to see, right next to the Creative Whack Pack and lava lamp.

Today's card I love...

(paraphrased...you'd gag otherwise) Each experience up to now was necessary to get me to this very moment. I wouldn't be in this desk chair, staring at PowerPoint slides, waiting rather impatiently for Friday, if it hadn't been for 30 years of other moments, good and bad.

I dig that kinda. And it kinda fits in to this whole New Years hoopla. So, New Years resolution declaration: Try to have as many useful, positive, thrilling, transformative moments as possible in 2011 so that each next moment is made that much better.

Ok, and do more Om breaths. *wink*