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

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.)

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!

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.

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

Sigh...

2 Atoms In A Molecule by Noah and the Whale


http://notbeige.blogspot.com

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