River

driving to minneapolis from st. cloud
neither place really home
the day after Thanksgiving
the first without my mom
worse than I had expected
so much worse

It’s coming on Christmas
They’re cutting down trees
They’re putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on

they say the first year is the worst
“just gotta get through the year of firsts”
then it will be better
the chorus sings
just…
gotta…
they promise
i
think
they
lie
lies lies and more lies
after a year of “firsts”
comes a year of “seconds”
then comes the
thirds
fourths
fifths
sixths
and so on and on and on
until we meet again

I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on

on the radio joni mitchell’s song “river” plays
loud
i look ahead
i’m now behind a hearse
a hearse on the freeway
94
between st. cloud and minneapolis
can it get worse?
probably not.
tears fall
memories flash
of
looking at the back of a hearse
the day they drove your remains away
the day they drove your remains to the church
the day they drove your remains to your final resting place
memories
of things past
memories
i'll never forget
memories
i can’t seem to get past
although you’re gone
you still remain

It’s coming on Christmas
They’re cutting down trees
They’re putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
I wish I had a river
I could skate away on...


“River” by Joni Mitchell

P U

Last night I hit a skunk. A skunk on the small little exit ramp connecting 394 westbound to 494 northbound. A skunk just standing in middle of the exit ramp with a suicide wish. Due to construction, the ramp was much smaller than normal with concrete walls on each side of me. No choice other than to hit the skunk or to total my car and probably kill myself. It was terrible. I hit the skunk going at a speed of about 50 miles per hour; there was no chance of survival for the skunk. I remember seeing the skunk briefly, then feeling a thud, and then literally seeing pieces of the skunk sail through the air in the headlights of the car behind me. I am sure that the car behind me was covered in skunk. There was no way in could not have been.

I started to cry. Yes, ridiculous…I know. But, it is the truth. I did. I felt terrible. This is the first thing that I have hit that has resulted in death. Not the first thing I have hit, mind you, that was a puppy the night before Thanksgiving a few years back…but the puppy lived. That was one of the most surreal nights of my life, which will be the subject of another post at some point…but now we are giving the skunk his own moment of remembrance.

I continue driving back to my apartment, as I am trying to see the road through my tear stained glasses a stench fills the car. I have never in my life smelled anything so vile and rotten as I did last night. “Gross” is the only word that can describe it, and yet comes up short.

As I continue driving, straining to see the road through my tear stained glasses, I now have to roll down the window to get fresh air because I am trying not to vomit.

Last night was the longest ride home I have ever had. Too much drama for 3 miles.

The car still stinks today.

I hate skunks.

Ish.

Wake Up!

I “heart” Hilary Duff. There I said it. I own it. I cannot be given crap about it anymore.

Yes I bought Hilary Duff’s new CD “Most Wanted” on the day it was released. Granted, I bought it for one song, but I bought it nonetheless. And I have actually grown to like a few of the songs.

I went to Media Play and headed to the “D” section and found that I had two options. The regular CD or the special limited edition with bonus songs and collector cards. I decided on the limited edition. Crazy, I know. I carried the CD with the cover facing my palm, hiding the fact that it was a Hilary Duff CD. I got up to the counter and I put it down, face down. The cashier looked at the CD, looked at me and looked back at the CD. She finally squinted her eye and said “Hilary Duff. You are buying a Hilary Duff CD?” I looked at her and panicked. I immediately felt like an old pervert. How did I become that weird guy that everyone always whispered about? UGH! So I looked at her and said “Yeah, it’s not for me. It’s for my niece.” She looked at me, suspiciously, and said “oh how old is she?” I played it cool. I said “8 years old”. Now I have no idea if an eight year old kid is into music or not…but I committed to it. The cashier said, in a tone of suspicion, “and she wants the collector’s edition?” I then said “oh yeah, she’s totally into the whole Hilary Duff and Lindsay Lohan thing. Big time. I personally don’t get it…but whatever”. Playing it cool. The cashier just looked at me and then finally said “you want a bag?” Yes, I want a bag. A brown, unmarked bag for my dirty purchase. Ugh. I don’t know if she bought it or not…but it wasn’t a total lie. I do have a niece. She isn’t 8 years old though. She is 18 months. And she does like music…she just has no clue who Hilary or Lindsay are. Sometimes a bunch of half truths can add up and make a whole truth. Right?

So I love the song “Wake Up”. I have no idea why. I just do. I wish I had a good excuse why, but I don’t. Sometimes I don’t understand myself. It is like I have an alien in my brain. I just chalk it up to being a creative genius and a man ahead of my time. It helps me sleep at night, if I believe I am on the genius side of the line rather than the lunatic side.

I was listening to the song in my car the other week. Driving through town I had the windows down because it was a nice day and the radio was cranked up. Not fully realizing, while waiting at a red light, that I was belting out these choice lyrics in all my terrible off-key glory….

Give me a dance floor
Give me a DJ
Play me a record
Forget what they say
Cause I need to go
Need to getaway tonight

I put my makeup on a Saturday night
I try to make it happen
Try to make it all right
I know I make mistakes
I'm living life day to day
It's never really easy but it's ok

I wasn’t paying attention to what I was singing…honestly I was just singing. I would not knowingly sing "I put my makeup on a Saturday night". Really I wouldn't. I do have to draw a line somewhere. Anyways, I then looked over and there are three rough looking rednecks in a pickup truck staring at me. Thank God I was making a left turn and they were turning right. Whew! Close call. I don’t think they fully appreciated the musical genius that Hilary is.

Now I only sing along if I have the windows up and doors locked. Safety first when it comes to Ms. Duff. And most importantly, I just hum along to the "makeup on a Saturday night" line. It's just not worth running the risk of a serious ass-kicking. Trust me.

Wake up, wake up
On a Saturday night
Could be New York
Maybe Hollywood and Vine
London, Paris maybe Tokyo
There's something going on anywhere I go
Tonight
Tonight
Yeah, tonight

The city's restless
It's all around me
People in motion
Sick of all the same routines
And they need to go
They need to get away
Tonight

i made it through the wilderness…

Well, I survived. I survived the wilderness. I need a badge of a pine tree, an acorn or a campfire or something “woodsy” that I can proudly wear. Oh yes…I am a survivor.

So the adventure began with a bang as I pulled into Tyler’s driveway as 5 AM sharp. 5 AM! I have not been up that early in years, but I did it. I was up and ready to go! We quickly packed my stuff into his vehicle and we were off and running….well….sorta. We had to stop and get gas. Mission accomplished. The tank is full. Now we are off and running…again, not really….we had to stop at Coborns to get groceries. Tyler made a menu for the trip. Yes, an actual menu. Now, I would have been fine with a box of fruit loops and a snicker bar, but no…we had each and every meal planned including beverages and snacks. Now I have known Tyler for about 14 years or so, but I had no idea he was this anal-retentive. When he emailed me a copy of the menu a few days before the trip and it was a word document with a fancy font, I should have figured something was strangely off. Walking into Coborns at 5:30 AM I run into Gary Block and his wife, Laura. Now Gary used to be the host of the local radio talk show, Partyline. After giving me much grief for actually agreeing to go on this trip he wished me luck and told me to say a prayer…to say many prayers.

Now we are off and running…for real. It is now 7 AM, we are 2 hours behind schedule. Not really off with a bang anymore, more like a muffled snap.

DAY 1

Once in Ely we stopped at the Wolf Center to get some information about the area. We met Irene, one of the workers. Now, Irene is quite possibly the cutest grandma type person in the world. She must have been close to 70 years old and had this crazy accent that was a cross between Marge from the movie “Fargo” and some crazed Canadian. I looked at Irene and asked her if there had been any bear attacks lately. I was dead serious. She laughed it off and said that there had been none. Then she grabbed a “bear sighting” sheet of some sort and said that “there was a curious bear that came into the campground and looked around and left”. Then she grew much more serious and let out a “oh no”. “Oh no”…now that is never good when talking about bear attacks. She then said that “there was an aggressive bear that sat on a canoe, tore the tarp and….*deep breath*….mauled a cooler”. Mauled a cooler. Humm. Not what I wanted to hear. I looked at Tyler and Bob and thought about bolting…but I stayed. No risk no glory. I then asked Irene what I should do if I see a bear. I asked her if I scream as loud as I can and run away with arms flailing. She said no. She said I “should try to get up on something and put my arms above my head and try to look real big”. Hummm….I can honestly say that there is no way on God’s green Earth that I could actually remain calm enough to do that. I told Tyler that he just better get used to the fact that if I see a bear that he will find himself being flung into the bear’s path as I go running in the opposite direction. In my world, a hungry bear could dissolve the bond of friendship and loyalty in under 2 seconds. Sad but true. I wouldn’t throw Bob though. Bob is always nice to me, unlike Tyler.

Once at the cabin we decided to go for a quick canoe trip. I have never been a in a canoe before. A person my size does not ride in a canoe. People my size sink canoes. It is kind of like putting a watermelon on a soup can and putting it in the water and hoping it floats. Just doesn’t work. But, in the spirit of adventure I agreed. I sat in the middle, Tyler sat in the front and Bob sat in the back. Things were going along well….I had Bob’s video camera in one hand and the other hand was clamped onto the canoe handle in the world’s tightest death grip. Just as things were cruising along and I was beginning to feel comfortable, we hit a rock. We hit a huge rock under the water. I felt like I was in the movie “Titanic”, but only they had better chances of surviving. There also just happened to be one other person on this whole lake in a canoe a little ways off who witnessed this whole tragic ordeal. As we were trying to figure out how to get off this rock. The man in the other canoe yells out “You got a lot of weight in the middle”. No lie. I could not believe it. It is all on tape. It is nice to have some of your most humiliating moments preserved on tape for eternity. Well, once off the rock I figured we would just go back to the cabin. Nope. They wanted to go to another lake. I agreed. I agreed not realizing that I would have to get out of the canoe, walk to another lake and get back in a canoe. Apparently there is even a word for this. They call it Portage. That word was never in my vocabulary before and I can promise you after this blog post, it will never be used again. It’s a lot of work. Too much work, if you ask me. I did carry the canoe once, briefly, and that was a pain in the ass. Never again. I am perfectly fine staying ashore.

DAY 2

We woke up and Bob and Tyler decided that we would go on a quick hike then come back for lunch and figure out something else to do in the afternoon. The owner of the campground said there was a nice little hike about 2 miles long and that it would only take a couple of hours and there were waterfalls. Sweet. I agreed to go on this “quick” hike. Why not? I am a sucker for waterfalls every time. (side note: In high school our science teacher was going to be gone so we got to choose a movie to watch. One of the choices was about waterfalls. I protested loud and clear that we should watch the one about waterfalls…finally everyone else gave in and agreed. The next day he is gone the substitute teacher puts in the movie and it is about ducks and geese and shit. Here I misheard the teacher. He said “water fowl” and not “waterfalls”. I was beyond pissed.) So we gear up…hiking boots, backpack, snack, rain poncho because it was getting a little cloudy out. We drive down a few miles to this lake and hiking trail. There was a small parking lot just off the road and a trail leading into the woods. In the parking lot, something caught my eye…it was a handicapped parking spot. I thought in my mind…this will be a breeze, handicapped people go on this trail. No sweat. This will be the PERFECT trail for me. Well, well, well….clearly they have the parking space reserved for anyone who is handicapped and wants to commit suicide. It was the hiking trail of death. I could not believe it. Up a bluff, down a bluff, over a bunch of rocks, under some dead trees. It was a nightmare. After a few minutes I looked at Bob and said “You know what? They should rate trails with one rock being easy and five rocks being the trail of death – good luck you are never coming back. Because I am sure this trail would be 5 rocks.” Bob just laughed and walked away. He does that a lot with me. Now, about 20 minutes into this hike of death it starts to rain. Rain. Not a heavy downpour but a strong, steady, solid rain. Great…I get to hike on the trail of death and now all the friggin rocks are wet and slick. It will like all of my dreams were coming true at once. Honestly, I was not amused. But, I thought…don’t complain…just roll with the punches. I cracked out my poncho and looked like a total friggin dipshit, but at least I was dry…for the most part. So we walked, and walked, and walked, and walked. Up, down, up, down, up, down. Just as we would get to the bottom of a bluff, it would shoot back up. Up, down, up, down…over and over and over again. We walked, and walked, and walked. Now…I am not a great judge of distance but something seemed a little off. I kept asking how much further, and Bob and Tyler would just reply one more mile and we would keep walking. It kept raining. I could not see out of my glasses because they were fogged up and full of raindrops. It was kind of like hiking in the woods but you are blind. As my mood started to grow crabby, Bob would start to sing a Madonna song in hopes that it would rally the troops and get me back in a good mood. Interesting gesture, I know…but it worked. It is hard to be mad at someone when they are singing Madonna songs. Trust me.

Every now and again we would run into another hiker. One hiker said in a loud voice that echoed not only through the bluffs but also in my mind. “We take what the good Lord gives us”. He was talking about the weather, I assume. Now the way I see it, if the Lord is going to give us crappy weather, I personally would rather take it while sitting inside a dry cabin…not out in the wilderness while I am fighting for my life on a trail of death. But, hey, to each their own. So we walk some more. I am now growing a little bit suspicious. I am starting to realize that maybe, just maybe….this hike is more than two miles and they are lying to me. So I start to sing the theme song from “Gilligan’s Island”. Fitting, I know. We walk and we walk. It is now way more than two hours into this friggin hike. I am losing my patience. I just want out of the damn woods. I want to go home. But on and on and on I walk. I stopped talking to Bob and Tyler for a little bit. I figured it was best that I say nothing. Just keep my mouth shut and my feet moving. At one point I thought about flinging my body off of the top of the bluff…just end it quickly. But, I thought attempted suicide might not be the way to go. Knowing my luck I would just break all my bones and not actually die and that would suck. A botched suicide attempt is not something you want to deal with when you are on a hike in the middle of nowhere. So I kept walking. And it kept raining. And it was cold. And I walked some more. At one point I actually thought I heard my Mom and God laughing at me from the high heavens. I heard my mom’s voice, clear as a bell saying “what a dumbass”. Then we reached a part of the trail were it goes down a huge chunk of rocks. There is nothing for me to hang on to, no railing, no nothing. So I slowly start my way down these jagged rocks. At this point I have resigned myself to the fact that I am in the bowels of hell and that I am just going to try to escape without any severe injuries. So I am slowly creeping down these rocks when I hear someone bounding down the trail behind me. Great…a fantastic time to have someone else come along the trail and see me spread eagle on the rocks hanging on for dear life. I turn back and I see this yellow spot bouncing up and down. Here it is a jogger. Someone is JOGGING on this trail of death. As he gets to me on the rocks I look up and say “You’re friggin jogging?!?” He looks at me and says “Yup, kinda tricky, huh?” and bounces down the rocks in three leaps. And off he goes down the trail like Tigger from Winnie-the-Pooh. I was beyond pissed. I looked at Tyler who was standing in horror as I clearly was teetering on an emotional breakdown. I just made a grand gesture of mock suicide and kept on walking. Tyler said to me that he was actually afraid for a moment because it looked like I was going to attack the jogger.

Then the rain stopped. Finally a break. I was more than happy to take off that damn poncho. So I am walking along and there were some more rocks. There are a lot of rocks on this Earth. Trust me. So I grabbed a tree and used it to brace myself. At the bottom I let go of the tree and I am now soaked…SOAKED…soaked as the tree snaps back. I just stood there and took a deep breath and shivered for a moment. Tyler tried to talk to me. I just looked at him and gave him the finger. Then I mustered up my strength, swallowed my humiliation and kept on walking. Finally…six miles later and 4 and ½ hours into the day we come to the end of the trail. FINALLY. In the parking lot as we were putting our gear into the car who should come bounding out the woods? Oh yes...the jogger. I resisted the urge to attack him. Instead I stood there staring him down and shooting death rays out of my eyes at him while Tyler kept saying “Jason just get into the car”.

Back at the cabin I took a long nap. I woke up and the first thing that came out of my mouth was “Shit. I just woke up and I am still in a cabin.”

And incase you were wondering…the waterfalls were the biggest joke ever. The “waterfalls” were about as impressive and awe-inspiring as a muskrat pissing into the lake. No lie.

Looking back, I really do think Bob and Tyler were trying to kill me but the jogger probably threw their plan off track. No lie.

DAY 3
I stayed at the cabin while they went out and had adventures in the great outdoors. It was such a nice, relaxing day.

DAY 4
We got up and packed our things to head back home. Tyler is crazy. He asked me to pack the food in the fridge. Sure…no big deal. Glad to help. Well, I did not pack it right, so every time I put something into the cooler Tyler would re-pack it as soon as I let go of it. Whatever. Then Tyler asked me to sweep out the cabin. Never mind that we lived in the dirt for 3 days, but now that we were leaving I had to sweep the damn floor. Ugh. But, Bob showed me the proper way to sweep in order pass Tyler’s high standards while Tyler was brushing his teeth. The floor passed inspection, surprisingly. It is interesting to see these crazed Martha Stewert-esque moments come out in Tyler’s personality.

But, in the end, it was an interesting trip. Looking back, I had a lot of fun. I tried a few new things. I was harassed by a man in a canoe. I did not see any bears, only a couple of crazed squirrels. I laughed, I cried, I learned more about myself. And most surprisingly my friendship was Tyler and Bob remains intact…despite them trying to kill me.

I made it through the wilderness…somehow I made it through….

The Adventure Begins...

4 AM tomorrow morning the adventure begins. Camping…sort of….in the Boundary Waters. For years I had wanted to go camping. Yes, strange if you know me, trust me. Part of my sick Survivor fantasy I guess. I think I can handle the wilderness. I just don’t want to eat bugs. Is that so wrong? So we will see if I am as tough as I think or simply delusional on a very grand scale. Anyways, this year is it actually happening, hard to believe. Tyler, Bob and I…in a cabin on some lake at least 5 hours from here. It will be nice to be away from everything. A much needed break.

I have spent the majority of the week “training” for the trip by screaming loudly and running as fast as I can to prepare for any encounters I may have with a bear. I have also mastered the “dead possum” move by lying on the ground and pretending to be dead incase a bear catches me. And, most importantly, I have made peace with my maker and repented for all my sins (only took a few moments…I don’t sin often) incase I am caught by a VERY smart bear who does not fall for the “dead possum” trick. I hope to God the bears are dumb up there. I really do.

In a strange moment this evening as I was packing, I was thinking back to the only time I have ever been to Ely before. It was this weekend, I believe, with my mom and the rest of the family. My mom had been there before for the blueberry festival and wanted to go back. She loved Ely. She said it reminded her of the TV show Northern Exposure. After the trip a year ago now, I would agree. It is like the TV show.

I never thought I would go back to Ely. Especially after my mom died. But I am going back; it will be nice to be in a place that she loved.

Ely or bust. Here we come.

I "heart" Kathy Griffin

Can I just take a moment and say how much I truly love Kathy Griffin. She is freakin hilarious. I have been a faithful fan of her show on Bravo “My Life on the D-List”. It is brilliant. I watched her stand up shows “The D-List” and “Kathy Griffin is not…Nicole Kidman” a million times. I got her DVD “Allegedly” last Christmas from my mom and love it. Kathy cracks me up like no other comedian.

She truly says what everyone is thinking but no one has the balls to say. I have never seen anyone cut through all the Hollywood crap like she does. She is hilarious, she is brave, she is a riot. Kudos to you Kathy.

The show ended last night. I am truly sad. For the past six weeks on Wednesday night I was glued to the TV watching her. Now my Wednesday evenings will be dull and boring. I am praying for a season two. Come on Kathy…do a season two! It is one of the celebrity reality shows that actually seems real. Not like the train wreck of bizarreness that is the Whitney Houston nightmare “Being Bobby Brown”. (which as a side note…someday I will spill the beans on Whitney’s bizarre demands from when I worked on the Rosie O’Donnell Show. The woman is truly nuts. Not as nuts as Barbara Streisand…but close.)

Kathy needs to come to Minnesota and do a show. If she did, I would be in the front row smiling ear to ear and laughing my ass off.

I want to be Kathy’s friend. I seriously do.

you've been missed

Hard to believe…yet another funeral. Two this week...back to back. Bizarre yet true. Like so much of life…too bizarre to be true. But it is. Sadly. His name was Sean and I was good friends with his brother. He was young, only 21. Phyllis was 24. Clearly God is calling home the good ones this year.

The “Heathers” inseparable. A bond that could not be broke. A trio of true friends. Inseparable. Much to the annoyance of those on the outside. Sometimes it clicks. Sometimes it doesn’t. And sometimes it CLICKS.

When my mom died, my friend disappeared…dropped off the face of the Earth. No phone call, no email, no card. Nothing. No sympathy, no condolences, no comfort. Nothing.

It goes away if you don’t acknowledge it, right?

The three “Heathers” became two.

“Heather” called me about the news. She saw it on TV. His brother missing and then found. Tragic ending to a nightmarish ordeal. She has just heard and asked if I knew anything about it. I did not. Not a clue. I was shocked. I was stunned. I was floored. Déjà vu. I was also hurt. I could not believe that he did not call me to let me know about his brother. I could not believe that he did not call me. I could not believe…

So close, yet so far away.

I get it.

I called him. Immediately. Forgiveness.

I get it.

Lesson learned. Forgiveness.

I get it.

Death drives people apart. Death brings people together. Constant ebb and flow of life.

Three. Two. Three. Back to the beginning. My friend, you've been missed.

We are a long way from home.
We are a long way from the stars.

the angels cry

Sitting at the back of the bus. Praying, thinking, remembering. Every seat filled. Others turned away and left to their own devices. A bus of sorrow. A final farewell to a friend. Looking out the window…numb. A year of too much death. A year of too much loss. A year of too much grief. This year seems endless. Much like my grief. Much like all of our grief. Only a beginning, never an ending. I don’t know anyone untouched by death this year. The sky turns gray. Windows streaked with rain. Souls streaked with tears. I hear a friend whisper “even the angels are crying”. Grief truly knows no limit.

Called Home

Today a dear friend of mine was buried.

Rest in peace...
Phyllis Ruthann Morgan
October 29, 1980 – August 27, 2005

The Parting Glass
Traditional Irish

Oh all the money that e’er I spent
I spent it in good company
And all the harm that e’er I’ve done
Alas, it was to none but me
And all I’ve done for want of wit
To memory now I can’t recall
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all

Oh all the comrades that e’er I’ve had
Are sorry for my going away
And all the sweethearts that e’er I’ve had
Would wish me one more day to stay
But since it falls unto my lot
That I should rise and you should not
I’ll gently rise and I’ll softly call
Good night and joy be with you all

Throwdown at Casual Male Big & Tall

Today I was shopping and decided on a whim to stop at the Casual Male Big & Tall store. Now…just to clarify…I don’t need to shop there…I am large, but not so large that regular stores don’t carry my size. Anyways…just had to throw that out there. Part of me always gets a sick pleasure out of shopping at the Big & Tall store. I go in, find something on the rack, then have to ask if they have it in a smaller size. A really large guy rolls his eyes at me and mumbles something about me needing to eat something and stop starving myself as he goes to the backroom to get clothes that do not have a double digit in front of a series of X’s. I love it. I love it a lot.

Well, today was a crash and burn day at the Big & Tall store. An older, cracked out woman came in and frantically came up to me and asked me “do you carry socks”. I looked at her and said “I’m sorry, I don’t work here.” It was one of those moments were it felt like a candid camera moment. I strained my neck looking around the store for that infamous little yellow light. No such luck. She then looked at me, covered her mouth and mumbled something. I figured she was horrified for confusing me with a salesman and was apologizing. I wanted to hear her say she was very, very, very sorry for her faux pas. So I said “excuse me, what?” and she shrieked “You don’t have socks!”. Clearly, she did not comprehend the fact that I was not an employee there. I also thought this was kind of an extreme reaction over socks. Is there something I don’t know? Are socks now being used as currency? Are socks being traded for gallons of gasoline? Why is it so hard to find socks? Again…I just looked at her and said in a semi-annoyed voice…”No, I said I don’t work here. I don’t know if they have socks or not.” She looked at me and said in a really rude tone “Oh, you look like someone who would work here.” I just looked at her and said “Why…because I am fat?” to which she trotted off, disgusted.

Every time I look at my socks, I think of her.

It will take a lot of courage and a lot of booze to get me back to the Casual Male Big & Tall store. No lie.

Catching Up

I have been away from the blog for awhile now. Been too busy with life in the real world. Now that things are slowing down for a few days I plan on doing a lot of catching up. So many strange, hilarious, bizarre and wonderful things have taken place since I last took the time to sit down and write.

Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, Relay for Life, standing ovations, dog vomit, drunk women rubbing my arm at the bar, catching up with old friends, seeing people I never wanted to see again in my life, hiding fans, backstage drama, on-stage brilliance, Tiffany’s greatest hits, Isabella adds “bye bye” to her vocabulary, He-Man on DVD, curtain call train-wrecks, laughter, tears, and so much more.

Ahh…the highs and lows of life. Soon I will tell all.

My Birthday

I went out to the cemetery and had cake at my mom’s grave. First birthday in my entire life not spent with her.

three months

Today marks three months since my mom’s death. Three months. Hard to believe. I spent a lot of time at the cemetery last week. Just sitting and thinking. I still think of her every day. I still miss her every day. I still cry every day.

I bought the cemetery plot next to her. I now have my final resting place in this world. It is kind of strange to know that no matter what happens in this life and where I go and what I do I know exactly where I will end up at some point.

I am so tired but I don’t want to go to bed. Tomorrow is my birthday. I turn 31 tomorrow. When I wake up I will have my first birthday without my mom. The past 30 birthdays were spent with her in some capacity. I think I will get a cake and go out to the cemetery.

Three months and it is not getting easier yet. I am starting to doubt it ever will.

Beauty and the Beast

Beauty and the Beast is kicking my ass. Literally. I do not remember ever being involved in a show that is this much work...EVER. I have done huge shows before...but none have ever come close to this project. When all is said and done, this will be the biggest production ever done in the history of the Hole in the Day Players. It is gonna be huge! There is something like 158 costumes in the show, 72 actors, a full orchestra, huge dance numbers, numerous sets, and the list keeps going and going and going.

It's gonna be big people...it's gonna be big.

Wise Words

"No matter what you did...
No matter who you are...
No matter where you come from...
You can always change.
Become a better version of yourself."
-Madonna
_______________________________

Something to think about.

the distance grows

Lately I just want to shut the world out. Completely. I find myself fighting to have the strength to do anything. I call people but within a few seconds I’ve lost any desire for conversation. I email friends but find myself with nothing more to say other than “same old, same old”. I get together with people but find myself wishing I was somewhere else as soon as I arrive. I find myself pushing people away quite a bit lately. I am not sure what is going on. I have always been one to withdraw from the world in times of great personal upheaval. Usually in my darkest hours I am in a self-imposed exile. When wounded I pull away, work through it and then return to the world. I have never been one to say that I needed someone else or I need help. It simply is not in my nature. But since my mom’s death I find myself putting a great deal of distance between me and those I held most dear. I have moments of clarity where I realize I am doing it, but by then it is too late. Damage done. I fear by time I have my head on straight again there won’t be anyone left.

you

the relentless tide
sweeps people into our lives
and pulls them back out
just as quickly.

a face in the crowd
a song on the radio
brings me back to you
even though you’ve been gone
for years.

you and me
so much alike
yet so different
or are we?

the memory of you
floats in, floats out
over and over and over
inescapable
you could always be so cruel

are you happy?
are you content?
are you satisfied?
are you complete?

did all your dreams come true?

__________________________________________

“I guess you go too far
When pianos try to be guitars”
- tori amos

fish out of water

Out of my element. Like a fish out of water. A square peg in a room of circles.

I went over to Bob and Tyler’s for supper. A bar-b-que of sorts. While at the bar the night before it was brought up…I guess. I apparently said I would come over, although when Tyler called me about it today I did not remember that conversation. Clearly I could be a politician. “I do not recall.” I was nervous all afternoon about going to this casual get together. I have no idea where or when I seriously started to be anxious about meeting new people. I guess I have joked about having social anxiety disorder too much (my favorite excuse to get out of doing things I don’t want to do) and I think I may have actually developed it. After spending hours dreading this event, I called to cancel. A simple “sorry, can’t make it” and then hang up the phone. Afterwards I felt like a huge jerk. A few minutes later I called back and said that I would be there after all. I seriously think I am losing my mind.

I don’t know why I hate meeting new people lately. I just do. I don’t understand it; it is out of character for me. How can a person be in the performing arts and hate meeting new people? It is bizarre. A friend from college once told me that he was impressed with my ability to chat people up. I could have conversations with just about anyone, no matter their walk of life or who they were. Clearly that is not the case anymore. I have the worst time connecting with people. I fear I am becoming socially awkward. What is happening to me?

So the others arrived and I was immediately looking for a way out. They were nice people, just not my kind of people. Trendy Abercrombie & Fitch boys are not my crowd. I pretty much said nothing and pretended to be interested in polite conversation about topics I could not have cared less about. I was asked a few questions but was more focused on how to leave than on giving witty answers. It also psyched me out that there were no girls there. I always get along better with girls than guys. Girls just seem smarter. After one of the guys asked if a mosquito can fly 45 miles an hour, I had my fill. Look pretty but try not to think…right boys?

Finally a way out. Everyone was going to go on a boat ride. I said I was cold and was going to go get a sweater. I left. I was in my car driving away before they even all made it out to the front yard.

Was I being judgmental? Maybe. Are they nice people? Probably. Do I want to do ever do it again? No.

I went home and had some ice cream and watched the DVD of Kirstie Alley’s “Fat Actress” instead.

I don’t know why I get invited to these things or why I even go. It never ends well.

Talking to Tyler today he had a good laugh out of the fact that I was so noticeably uncomfortable. Great. Glad I can provide yet another punch line to life’s joke. But, at least I know that mosquitoes can’t fly at a rate of 45 miles per hour. Whatever.

under the water

Exhausted. It seems to be the natural state of affairs lately. Exhausted from what? I have no idea. Just exhausted. Maybe it is just the daily grind of life. Slowly being pulled under the wheels.

Idle chitchat. Where? No really? Then what? Fascinating. Meaningless chatter. Friend or foe? Fine line separates the two. Some move between the two more easily than others. Tale as old as time. What do you want from me? What do I want from you? No, seriously…go on…I am a captive audience. Really, I care. Or do I? It doesn’t matter…trust me…or don’t.

The nightmares returned with a vengeance last night. I dreamt that somehow my mom returned to us. She and I were driving in the car and she was telling me all about life on “the other side”. It sounded like the perfect world. I asked her why she came back if it was so incredible; she said she came back because she missed us. In a blink of an eye, we were driving the car across a lake and it was night. The darkest part of the night with only the moon above and the water like black glass. As we drove across the lake we suddenly crashed into a thick patch of trees sticking out of the water. Pine trees…tall, grand, ancient. As we crashed we quickly got out of the car and swam away as the car sank. We swam and swam, my mom having trouble swimming, until a boat came along. I swam up to the boat, holding on to my mom. The people in the boat reached over and tried to pull me up out of the water. I kept yelling at them to help my mom first. They said I was the only one there. There was no one else. I was the only one. I screamed they were lying because I was holding on to my mom…why couldn’t they see her? Then my mom slipped from my grip. I turned to grab her but the people in the boat grabbed me and started to pull me up. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t reach her. My mom just slowly sank in the water, looking at me…sinking deeper and deeper out of view…under the water.

Even though it was only a nightmare, I will never forget the look on her face as she sank under the water. I have been uneasy all day because of that dream.

It is nights like last night that make me never want to sleep again.

Four Words

I miss my mom. 4 words that sum up my entire life right now. I miss my mom.

Everything I do is overshadowed by the fact that my mom is gone and I feel disconnected from everyone and everything. I get through the day but it is mostly on autopilot. Going through the motions without emotion. My days are filled with distraction.

I went into the room where all her stuff is boxed up. The spare bedroom in the basement. The room that used to be my mom’s when she lived with my sister. My mom painted the room; she even stenciled flowers on the closet doors. Morning Glorys, she loved Morning Glorys. I just sat there for a little bit, in her old room…looking at the boxes. Horrified that this is what we are all reduced to in the end. Our prized possessions boxed away in someone’s basement. Makes you wonder what the point of anything is. But I just sat there…still. Then I cried. I looked over and the photo boards were on top of some boxes. The pictures still arranged on them from her wake and funeral. Everything still as is from when we moved her stuff. Nothing has been sorted. No one wants to do it yet. We all know once we start sorting, we also start letting go. Not ready yet. So I sat there looking at the boards with all her photos from moments through her life. A life cut too short.

I still cannot deal with the fact that she is gone. I lost my mom and my best-friend at once. A devastating blow. If someone would have told me years ago that I would be motherless at the age of 30, I would have told them they were absolutely insane. She was 21 years older than I. It is pretty common for people to live into their 80’s these days. I thought I would be in my 60’s before I would have to worry about her passing on. Guess I was off by thirty-some years.

I am slowly realizing that there really is no one in this world that can ease the pain. There is no one in this world that can make it better. There is no one in this world that can fill the void. There is no one in this world that can give me back what I lost. Slowly realizing…

Four words…
I miss my mom.

Four words…
I love my mom.