Are You Like Me?

Last night the sky was clear and deeply dark. In your world, too?

I saw its trail down the lake’s length from my bedroom window at about 2:00 (positionally, not the time) and ran down the pier illuminated like a runway, arms spread wide, into its glimmer.

It sure did look full. I knew that it wasn’t. Mother Nature was saving her last bit of waxing for tonight. 

And you better believe I will be out there. Sitting at the end of the pier. Maybe a glass of wine in hand. Maybe after having several. Definitely with bells on. 

So my question to you is this…

Do you do what I do? Do you look up at the moon and think about who else took the time to find it and think? Think about anything, or think about the people who would take the time to search it out? Think about who is connected to the same show?

You don’t know what you don’t know until you do.

The Lunch Date: You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'

I don’t know about her, but I am pretty sure I have.

If you happened to peruse yesterday’s post about a lunch date, this is the followup, which went pretty much as expected.

[Here’s some insider info about me: When I know I am going to see someone I like, I am almost giddy with anticipation. I am excited. I can’t wait! If I know you well, be prepared for several warm hugs and, most likely, a snuggle on your cheek (I am a very affectionate person.).]

I was dragging my butt getting ready. I had a small pit in my stomach. More importantly, I felt  mostly nothing.

There was a mediocre fondness upon sight. The greeting was lukewarm at best. The hug was cursory.

Upon brief glance around the apartment, she pronounced the “new love nest”, in which I have now lived for one and a half years, “wide open” and “I bet the view is nice in the summer.”

I had previously made reservations at a delectable restaurant, in part, because I didn’t want to hear her bitch then or later that the food or service sucked, which she is wont to do. We ordered a glass of wine, (Yeehaw! Man, I needed one.) and after several questions about menu items and ingredients (her's, not mine), we placed an order.

We talked about her lake house and its renovations, how difficult and exhausting it is maintaining two home (her main and lake), dermatologists, her dog and travel. [Yawn!]

She must have needed to catch her breath because she asked for an update on my kids. I briefly told her about my daughter’s new-ish job, to which she said, 

“Didn’t you tell me this before Christmas?” 

“Yep, I sure did.” She was listening!

I provided a one sentence synopsis of my son’s life then promptly shut up. She followed with an additional multiple minutes long overview of both her kids.

[Blogger's $.02: If you have to do a fairly major life update when you talk with someone, you are an acquaintance not a close friend.]

Here's the pièce de résistance?

The bill came so I grabbed for it to do the quick division. She never flinched or made a move in the direction of her wallet. So I said,

“I got it.”

To which she exclaimed, 

“THANKS!”

As the monies were being exchanged, she mentioned she had been running late and didn't have time to stop at the ATM. 

"Do you have cash for the valet ($14 + tip)? I'll take you home so you don't have to take a taxi." 

What just happened here?

If I wasn’t so numb, I’d be pissed, but this is typical, and what it is like being friends with her, and why she is fodder. 

I can confidently put a check mark next to “Took the high road.” (though it cost me about $75). I can be thankful for the friends that do care about me and know my kids. Most importantly, I can move on without guilt.

I’ve lost that lovin’ feeling and it’s gone, gone, gone, whoa-oa-o…

But it still makes me sad.

Writing About People You Know IRL

So this resides on my desktop, which means I look at it almost daily. I guess I use it as inspiration for lamenting; I mean writing.

I would not consider myself the world’s nicest person, but I am extremely kind, compassionate and diplomatic. Must be the balance of being a Libra if you believe in such things. Anyway, I find it so hard to write about real life, the things that aggravate, frustrate, piss me off. I am mortally afraid someone (God only knows who because I am not aware that anyone I know outside the blogosphere reads here, if that.) will read this and think I’m talking crap about them. It frightens me. Then again, I could point directly above and say, “See, it’s you not me!”

Talking trash used to be easier when I had a creative outlet. Gosh darn you, Trifecta. Oh how I miss you! I could write a story and slap the label “FICTION” on it. I used it to cover my “real life” ass more times than I will admit.

Now, I feel stuck.

It’s like the emails I get from work on a regular basis. There are 200 divers at the aquarium, but, I swear, every reprimand that is issued I consider personally. I rethink my last work shift sifting through my actions and behavior trying to figure out if I somehow was the violator! It’s insane, but I think it must cross everyone’s mind. Yes?

Where is this whole thing going?

I have never thought of myself as passive-aggressive, but watch THIS!

To the person I have always considered a friend who talked smack about me (and my besties) recently to a hair dresser who also does the hair of someone else I know and works out at the same gym, who in turn couldn’t have told me fast enough. Yeah, your opinion of me got around. 

There are three things I do not talk about, in general. Religion, politics, and money. It’s been a good rule. I am not going to attempt to change your opinions and you may or may not change mine. I don’t enjoy debating these subjects, but you do, and just because I don’t doesn’t make me a person lacking depth or that my conversations are not intellectual enough, which is pretty much what you said. I do not talk about handbags, shoes, clothes or houses either. 

Hit me up about literature, art, big city living, theater, movies, fitness, food, travel (obscure and simple). Ponder thoughts with me on religion, politics, materialism, and commercialism. Don’t ram them down my throat. I have opinions, strong ones too. Like on gun control! I would be happy to engage in mutually satisfying, stimulating and intelligent conversation endlessly, that is, if I could ever get a fucking word in edgewise. 

Maybe you’ll read this before we have lunch tomorrow so I am not tempted to tell you this in person. Who am I kidding; I won’t. I’d rather be passive-aggressive. Sometimes it’s easier then calling out a one-time friend. 

Or maybe I will just label this "FICTION".

About Those New Year Revolutions*

I have started and stopped this first post four or five times in the last two days trying to decide what I wanted to say and share, and in which direction I wanted to go, serious or light. 

I was recently reminded of a quote from Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston:

“There are years that ask questions and years that answer.”

What if last year did neither? 

A year without fluidity, or so it seemed.

I got no closer, but no farther away either. 

From what?

Here are some tasty, if general, morsels from my year:

2015 saw the bearing of emotional weight unlike any other that I can remember. Then there were the losses, both physical and otherwise. 

And yet, I traveled far and wide seeing things only one other people I know has ever seen, and frolicked through places everyone else had already been and I always longed to go.

Spent an enormous amount of time with the people I love the most like I was trying to make up for something, but wasted time, in equal measure, with people I didn’t love at all. Though, in all honesty, that was fun, too.

I did so many things right last year, but I made almost the same amount of mistakes. 

I felt to the point of pain. Or pleasure. And I felt intensely human.

So how do I quantify a year like this in a couple hundred words, let alone make it make sense to you? Where to begin? More importantly, where do I go from here?

I’m not longing or looking for fresh starts this year. At least not for me. I am yearning to feel more more intensely. 

In people, in peace, in books, in travel, in thoughts, in writing. 

Just more.

I’ll end this mishmash of words with a story from January 1, 2016 where I set off bottle rockets with close friends in rural Indiana to ring in the New Year:

Too bright and too early on the first day of 2016, we found ourselves completely out of coffee. This is not a good thing when six sets of eyes, who over-imbibed the previous eve, are staring at you in disbelief. 

My house, my run to the grocery store, in my pajamas.

Laying down my Dunkin' Donuts grind on her belt, the far too cheery checkout clerk asked through her, no matter how toothless, yet contagious smile,

“Make any New Year’s revolutions?!?!?!?”

(Yes, that's what she said.)

In my weak attempt to match her enthusiasm, I replied,

“Not yet! You?”

“HA, HA!!! Nope, never do!"

"Maybe I shouldn't either!!! Have a great year!"

"You too, Honey Bunches!"

As I walked out, I couldn’t help but laugh. 

I laughed because of her verve and warmness at such an hour. I laughed because of her mix up. I laughed because maybe she did mean 'revolutions' as words have multiple meanings and contexts.

I will never forget the woman who changed the early morning of January 1, 2016 for the better, so easily and simply. With just a mix up (maybe) and a smile.

May I, likewise, be the one who changes someone else’s day, so easily and simply, for the better, at least one time during this year.

*Revolution

(A simple definition)

noun rev·o·lu·tion \ˌre-və-ˈlü-shən\

: the usually violent attempt by many people to end the rule of one government and start a new one

: a sudden, extreme, or complete change in the way people live, work, etc.

: the action of moving around something in a path that is similar to a circle

Your One Wild and Precious Life (One of My Favorite Trifecta Entries EVER!!!)

Blogger's Note: I wrote this post on November 27, 2012. I have reposted it every year since on the very same day. Yesterday, I was busy being a day-after-Thanksgiving-Day slug. I forgot. So here it is, a three year old post one day late. 

It remains one of my favorites ever for several reasons. It literally flew off my fingertips conveying my feelings at the time. It was a wholly and intensely cathartic experience. In many ways, I feel the same today as I did then. That is your only clue...

Thanks for re-reading with me.

**********************

This isn’t about anyone, nobody at all. It's where an exhausted mind went one morning in late November. I didn’t question it. I simply ran to catch up.

**********************

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?”

- Mary Oliver, New and Selected Poems

Fool me once…

Fool me twice…

They caressed and played with my senses.

Your words,

Written, spoken, poems, songs

Were deceptive.

They're hollow I told you at the time




But still, 

"I believe in your confusion".

Looking back through crystal eyes,

I question you more,

Deeper.

Is it just your heart that's




Misleading, elusive

Or all of you?




You are a shell of the person you could be.




Should.

You appear so hollow.




Merely a shadow of someone

Trapped within yourself




Never able to get out. Be out. Feel free.

Happy there?




Is it safe enough for you?

Does your passion know where you're hiding?

You’ll glance back with regret, longing, distaste, maybe,

At your life, 

For yourself, but

Probably not.

How’s the view from la-la-land?

Would you even admit the truth?

A better question is, do you know it?

So don’t drown in tears from failures and hurts past



When you realize it,

As the movie reel plays it all back.

Premiering today "Your One Wild and Precious Life".




Sit down; get comfortable; admission is free just for you.


"Beautiful Loser" looping in the background.

I hope it doesn't hurt your feelings.




Remember…

You had choices at the forks.

Made one or didn’t

Which is a choice, too.


 

You did it yourself.

Your creation.

It’s all on you.




So what will you make of your allotted one and only?

Do you even know?

I really don't think you have any idea.

I do

For mine and

I'll own everything, too.

I'd rather look back and say,

"I can't believe I did that."

My blessings,

My mistakes.

Mine.

I will wager in pursuit of dreams.

Will you?

I wish on stars for many things,

For you.

And it's the same mistake

Over and over again.

****************************

33-333 words using the third definition:
Hollow: lacking in real value, sincerity, or substance: false, meaningless <hollow promises> <a victory over a weakling is hollow and without triumph - Ernest Beaglehole (who's he?)

Turducken Meets The Big Chill

Believe me, I know I didn’t post yesterday. Fail!!!

You know what though? I am not going to let it get under my skin, or beat myself up about it, because I had a great day despite the first snow flurries of the Fall (it is Chicago after all). It was sunny and the fell like pretty little crystals.

Like the groundhog, I predict another missing post tomorrow. And you know what? I can’t let it get under my skin because I am going to be having too much fun. This I know this already for sure!

This is our annual Turducken weekend! Picture a dense and stuffed hunk of fowl meets The Big Chill movie. We do it every year, hence the annual bit, but usually in January or February. This year, we wanted it to be earlier for a few good reasons.

There will be big dogs (real dogs, not hubbies), too much food, and games (the good, clean kind like Dominos). There will be just a smidgeon of wine poured as well.

I would like to say there will be pictures posted here next week, but there won’t be because I can’t do it. Someone didn’t make the guest list this year because they have been naughty. I’m no Santa, I know, but she’s been no kind of good girl either! Knowing that we did this without them would be hurtful, and I don’t want that. She doesn’t even read my blog, but you never know. I guess if she does reads this then she will. I never claimed my methods are full proof!

T-minus six hours until they arrive in rural Indiana. Lots to do. Got to go!!!

Feeling Melancholy on This Sunday Evening

bycommonconsent.com

“You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what's a life, anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die. A spider's life can't help being something of a mess, with all this trapping and eating flies. By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone's life can stand a little of that.” 

― E.B. White, Charlotte's Web

This is one of my very favorite quotes, and it always reminds me of some people who are quite important to me. It also reminds me of a friend, or two, I have lost.

It has such a melancholy feel to me, bittersweet, but very tender, and warm. Friendship is warmth, provides warmth, doesn’t it? 

For several reasons, I have called this quote to mind recently.

What is your favorite quote, friendship or not?

Books: What My Hands Are Touching These Days. Yours?

I have been reading, really, even though I haven’t written a thing about it. Been busy, as I am sure you are, too.

What am I currently reading?

I am reading The Light Between Oceans by M. L. Stedman. I will reserve complete judgement of this book until I am finished (about 75 pages left to go). It’s an often engaging story, actually two separate yet interwined storylines. I am fascinated by lighthouses, and this book is about living on a remote island off the Australian mainland where contact with the rest of the world happens every three months at most. I would love to try living this existence if given the opportunity.

I recently started a book of short stories called The Opposite of Loneliness: Essays and Stories by Marina Keegan. This is what Goodreads has to say about this book:

“An affecting and hope-filled posthumous collection of essays and stories from the talented young Yale graduate whose title essay captured the world's attention in 2012 and turned her into an icon for her generation.

Marina Keegan's star was on the rise when she graduated magna cum laude from Yale in May 2012. She had a play that was to be produced at the New York International Fringe Festival and a job waiting for her at the New Yorker. Tragically, five days after graduation, Marina died in a car crash.”

I am only a few stories in. So far, so very, very good!!!

What did I recently finish?

Yesterday, I finished All the Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy. I have quickly become a huge McCarthy fan after reading Children of God (Can you handle creepy? Soon to be a movie!) last year, and, more recently The Road, which I absolutely LOVED! McCarthy’s prose is sparse, yet luscious, and beautiful, yet masculine. You might think that these adjectives used to describe his writing are mutually exclusive, especially “beautiful, yet masculine”, but you’ll understand what I mean if you’ve read anything like these novels. Next McCarthy in line is No Country for Old Men. A book friend somewhat discourged me from reading it saying he recommends it to his “good guy friends”, and, in his experience, women like “romance and sentiment”. I have somewhat masculine tastes in two things, books and my bedding. I will give it a whirl.

What will I read next?

I will probably read An Untamed State by Roxanne Gay, The Vacationers by Emma Straub, or To Rise Again at a Decent Hour by Joshua Ferris (which I received as a “first read” from Goodreads, and it is already out and I haven’t lived up to my side of the bargain as of yet).

That’s it for my shelves. What are you reading? Enjoying? Hating? Recommending?

NaBloPoMo: I'm Lame 'Cause I Missed Four Days But I Have A Worthy Excuse!

I won’t admit to being a slacker for missing the entire weekend of NaBloPoMo. Or missing yesterday either. Last year, I didn't miss one day in November and I was really proud. This year, I'm cutting myself slack and not letting myself feel bad for missing a few days.

There are times when life knocks on your door and answering it is not an option especially when it's your out of town weekend guest with suitcase in hand. I wanted to devote my entire time and attention to her. That’s my excuse and I'm sticking with it. 

Backstory: I met Beth on my walk through northwest Spain this summer (the 500 mile Camino de Santiago de Compostela pilgrimage). Actually, she was the first person I saw after walking 6 miles virtually straight up the Pyrenees which border France and Spain. I'm sure I noticed her a moment before the frosty mug of bier in front of her. I was soaked with sweat, thirsty too, so I struck up a conversation.  

It’s not often, later in life that you meet someone and feel connected immediately. Like you’ve known them for years and it's incredibly easy. This was that and we became fast friends.

Her visit was a fabulous opportunity to show her the city of Chicago. The highlight was most definitely cruising the Chicago river on an architectural boat tour (yes, it was still running even for the cold November chill). If you are ever in the city, do it! Actually all the tours through the Chicago Architectural Foundation are awesome. Next time I'd like to take a tour via the "L"! 

We also messed around at The Bean taking "selfies" (because you can and it's probably the only place taking "selfies" should be allowed).

The Bean and Big Bags Under My Eyes!

A Backwards Look at the City Reflected Off The Bean

I also took my turn guest posting over at Yeah Write for NaBloPoMo. My post is about downsizing, which I am currently trying to do with my life. Please visit me and the other bloggers who are squatting at YW for the month of November and bleeding our hearts out!

I'd like to mention that someone said something very nice to me last night. I went to the gym to take a rope class (don’t usually workout at night) and told to a friend I was crabby.

He said, “Your crabby is like someone else’s good day.” I said, “Awwww! Frank that makes me feel better.” It really did. Even though my crabby is just the same as the next guy’s.

Day one of Bikram yoga under my belt (yet again). I’m back on it. It’s brutal. It’s sweaty. It’s mentally taxing. But there is nothing like the feeling of leaving that intensely hot room. I feel great, a shower will feel even better. I should probably do something really productive with my day.

But then this happens…

Also stop by tomorrow. Wednesday is book day and I’m reading some really great stuff!

I have a date tonight! I think we'll see a movie, either Dallas Buyer's Club with Matthew McConaughey or All is Lost with Robert Redford. I've heard both these movies will garner some award show attention. I'll review our choice in the next few days. 

It’s gorgeous in Chicago today. Get out in the fresh air at least for a little while.

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I'm a day late and a dollar short for Linda Roy's "I Hate Mondays" but I'm here now. Mondays have really sucked for me lately. You?

I haven't been random over at Stacy's place for a while! Thank you for hosting!

Stream of Consciousness Sunday: I Want the View!

I had no idea until five minutes ago that I would be participating in Jana’s Sunday Stream of Consciousness (five minutes of writing, unedited, published wherever the heck you want). And this is her optional prompt:

What have you fallen out of the habit of doing (or not doing)?

This is an easy one. Unfortunately.

I have fallen off the “writing” wagon.

It happened somewhere around February, I think. I have reasons. Several of them. Some will say one of them is lame. It probably is and I’m sorry about that but I can’t help it. 

I’m lacking motivation, maybe inspiration, possibly desire. Not sure yet.

I understand that writing takes practice and I’m out of practice and each day this continues my desire wanes. Almost to the point that I’m no longer caring.

Who am I kidding? Words have been elusive.

I am also trying to wean myself too. From the computer. From a chair in a study that faces in the complete opposite direction as a window with a lovely view.

I want the view!

I want to say “yes” every time someone I like asks me to spend time with them. I want to pick up every time my cell phone rings (okay, I will continue to screen my calls but I will be more available because only friends have that number) and talk to the person on the other end that was thinking of me enough to call. I want to call the person that I was just about to text (I’ve actually been doing this much more in the last few months.) I want to be present in moments without thinking first that those moments might make great stories to write about the following day.

Maybe I just don’t manage my time well enough but…

I want the view!