Home alone - It begins

Note: Note sure why I didn't post this Apr. 30th... but here we go.

So I walked out the door yesterday knowing I was coming home to nothing. Theo and George were moving out ala hired movers about mid day, so I was going to come home to an empty apartment. It felt weird, and I thought it was going to be abrupt and strange, especially without Vivianne, resident kitty.

I wondered about it all, that changes coming and the changes happening, and in a fit of whim I pulled out my deck (alchemical tarot) and ended up with these three cards:

2 of Staffs (wands) – a joining of two flames toward a common goal. The sharing of passions, merging of actions. Whether between two people romantically, or between a teacher and student, one passing the flames of understanding to the other in emotional reverence.

7 of Swords – time to pick you weapon. Consider your options, and choose that which will serve you best in the future. The rest must be left to the wayside. Not necessarily cut away forever, but set aside for singular, appropriate focus.

Ace of Swords – The pillar of possibility in intellectual pursuits. The seeker takes the step upon the path to knowledge, discernment, and understanding. The time has come to dive in head first, and take in the beginning of a path that comes from traditional knowledge and the ways that have come before, so that your own way may become clear through interpretation via intellectual digestion and rumination. (Wow, run-on sentence, much?)

Whoa. Ok, I can do that. It occurred to me then that this was indeed a time of beginnings for me. I’m living on my own for the first time (I don’t count college), I have a solid job that is relatively secure, and I make enough money that I can squirrel away savings in case the unspeakable happens (commence wood knocking). Ok, that works.

Then I got a wild hair. I pulled out my rune bag and pulled out three of those as well, focusing on my personal journey as opposed to simply the environment in which events are taking place. I received:

Kenaz – the torch. Odin journeying into the cave to speak with the talking head oracle comes chiefly to mind. But in his hand, the torch to light the way. The way is set, and I have been given a Guidepost by which to know the way. Though I may not see the path, I can still see my feet, and that can be good enough.

Mannaz – mankind. To work for the community as whole, not simply my own existence. My community work is becoming more prevalent and more in depth as the weeks progress. I must make sure I understand what I wish to contribute and what I am capable of contributing. I’ve been known to downplay my gifts and strengths for most of my life, and though that leads to caution, it also leads to lack of confidence. I understand well my abilities as they currently stand. I know what I am and more importantly what I am not comfortable doing, alone or in community. The time has come to step off the ledge into the world, and build my wings on the way down if necessary. But even then, I may not need wings to glide.

Laguz – water. Not the tranquil waters of the element which most of us associate, but the turbulent, unforgiving seas on which the Vikings sailed. A storm is on the horizon, but I would not be forging toward it if I wasn’t ready for it. I know I can not only weather its trials and survive, but can I thrive. I fear it in a way, but it is foolish to fear that which cannot be avoided. I know the seas will rock and roil and throw me about, but I know well how to swim. I will swim and sail and ride the storm out, and know more about myself by its end.

So, I'm in for a fight. I knew that. Been feeling it for a while. I knew this summer was going to be hell, and I don’t mean the heat outside. I know now the time has come for me to start fighting for my life and battling for my community. Let the games begin.

Pt 2:

Home again, home again, jiggity jig. Home to… Open rooms. I actually forgot how much space we had in this place. It’s huge and echoic and all mine! For roughly three days, two of which will be filled with work. But last night proved lovely in its solitude. Theo and George left a couple odds and ends around (so not a big deal) including Theo’s speakers, so I got to listen to My Chemical Romance while working out a bit last night. Alone. It was beauteous.

And I actually slept with my door flung open last night. That hasn’t happened in YEARS.

My only dilemma now is how to plan out tomorrow’s time so all three things that need to get done can. Painting, getting my new cable modem/cable box, and finishing boxing everything up is going to take some doing, especially with a possible second coat needed for that one wall, but it should all work out in the end. And if not, whatever happens will work, too, so no worries. It is what it is.

Note: again, not sure why I didn't post this. Oh well....

Polyamory and Further Packing

So it was a rather lovely Sunday. Headed out to the Occult Bookstore on Milwaukee ala a Blue Line that had exactly one track running. What is about soggy days that makes the CTA think that crippling a critical public transit artery is a good idea?

Anyway, the discussion was facilitated by the ESC (Earth Spiritualists of Chicago) on Polyamory. Some of you may remember a similar discussion in Chicago with special guests Oberon and Morning Glory Zell on the subject, but as much as I love Oberon Zell, he tends to sugarcoat the entire idea structure of polyamory. He speaks of smooth transitions, flowing relationships, and how none of the women he’s ever engaged in this way were ever mad at him or bitter or anything. Maybe not to your face...

With that thought, a word on the negative connotations of this word. Polyamory: This is not a cheap excuse to cheat. This is not a ‘free love, no responsibilities’ situation. Hells no. This is about balanced, honest, healthy relationships between more than 2 people. It can happen, it can work, and it doesn’t have to end in bigamy or nightly orgies or other such things. Well, the orgies, MAYBE, but only in private, safe circumstances involving consenting adults. But I digress…

That is not to say that the sordid reputation of the poly community as well as the censure therein is not wholly unearned. Unfortunately, like any group of people, there have been instances where stupid people doing stupid things got noticed, and the entire group got slandered for their actions, regardless of involvement. These people are remarkably fewer than one would be led to think, but their philosophies of irresponsible behavior are trumpeted by those who disagree with the concept as a whole and cast the rest of us in a bad light. Let me explain.

One of the greatest misconceptions is that polyamory is an easy, ‘no frills’ way to sleep with whomever you so choose without losing the stability of your everyday partner. Thought process: you get the normal everyday meal package but still get to go out for a snack whenever you want. Cut this thought from your heart. (Catherine Valente, “In The Cities of Coin and Spice”) Polyamory, to me, is about WORK. HARD word, honesty, trust, and sound judgment on the part of everyone involved, just like any monogamous relationship, with one big twist: boundaries need to be established, agreed upon, comfortable, and maintained. These relationships are in a lot of ways much harder to keep healthy than monogamous relationships because of how much goes into them.

Now, the opener for the discussion was “Why Polyamory?” It’s a good question. I’ve always felt, as you may have surmised, that it is practically impossible to find everything you are looking for in balanced, healthy companionship in a single person. I’ve tried it, repeatedly, and it just doesn’t function. Monogamy works for some people, and to them I say, “You found a good one. Fantastic for you! KEEP HIM/HER!” For me, it just doesn’t work that way. I believe whole-heartedly that you can have a stable, healthy relationship involving more than one partner and be fulfilled as a person while still fulfilling the emotional, spiritual, and physical needs of those partners.

The big thing for me, as it usually is, is balance. Finding someone to share a relationship with not only me, but with any other partner(s) that may be involved. Understanding needs to be had from the offset on what’s going on, what expectations are in the relationship, and to me, being able to have these people in the same room without it being heinously awkward is a serious thing for me. I WANT to be able to openly communicate with each partner, and be able to say the name of the other without getting daggers or drama queen sighs. Trust has always been the most important thing in a relationship to me, sex or no sex. Being able to be open and honest and not be judged, but also knowing that I am receiving that same respect in being forthcoming. Even if my partner and I are free to see who we choose on the side, I would still want mutual check-ins on how things are going. Not necessarily for approval, but for healthy updates and understanding. If I see that someone is not good for the person I am with, I am going to speak up, and I would expect that same respect and honesty in return.

Definitions, I’ve found, within the Poly community seem so crucial to establishing these much needed boundaries. I don’t use them, personally. I seek ideas and understanding, but words are not necessary to define and ‘box in’ those ideas. This lends itself in my head to my own pagan ideology, and the concept that words have power. These words in particular, at least for me, bring a kind of closed-minded compartmentalization to the relationship between two people in this context. Words like ‘Primary partner’ and ‘secondary partner’ bring to mind a hierarchy structure that can be both useful and destructive.

Many participants in the discussion shared my views along with others during the course of the afternoon, which allowed me to sit back and take in other thought processes. So refreshing. The open dialogue also helped me to truly concretize my own perspective. And the group therapy feel was only prevalent for a few minutes as a couple who were newly exploring this avenue joined us late, bringing with them their ongoing story of explorative newness.

Afterward, I hitched a ride home with one of the great minds of my acquaintance and packed some more. Packing the altars was a trip, but what’s funny is that the energy in the room has remained pretty constant with a pregnant pause about it, as if awaiting the new surroundings. It’s going to be quite interesting to get these things set up in the new place.

Kitchen and bathroom now being primarily taken care of, it’s down to the awkward time of ‘most of my life is packed and I’m living on the minimum.’ Fun. But it’s ok. My biggest concern is getting those two walls painted Friday morning. Home Depot, here I come!

Sociologist coming out, fair warning

So, @theogeer brought something to mind today that decided to turn itself into a self-discussion. Blame him for this.

As I have said before, I tend to skirt the fence, or just plain stand on it, when it comes to a host of issues. That is not to say I am wish-washy, quite the opposite. I know where I stand, and generally I stand in the middle because I can see the validity of both viewpoints, but in the end, I do know exactly where I stand on 95% of the issues presented. The others I am still researching, because I like to be informed before I come to a conclusion. That said, spiritually I ride the fence of connection to the Divine and Deity, and that tends to perturb people. Let me explain.

I didn’t really have solid terminology for this until about three years ago, but in practice, I am a panantheist. The Divine is immanent in all things, touching all life, ingrained in every aspect of everything. It is also centered in beings, Gods/Goddesses, spirits, the transcendent beings that provide focus for the Divine.

But in my heart of hearts, I am a hardcore pantheist. The divine exists within all things, and the notion of ‘god’ is an abstract as opposed to an anthropomorphic entity.

The reason for this difference is two fold. First, and not the least of which, I recognize individual consciousness beyond my physical senses. I understand that a lack of consciousness that I am aware of does not mean that something does not have power, have energy, and have connection to the Divine.

Secondly, and this is a finer point that some don’t share, but I also recognize the deification of a person or idea. To give power to something is a heavy, hearty thing, and not to be taken lightly nor ignored. Concepts can be given power simply in their naming, consciousness in the thinking of those who ponder them. Angels, deified people, hell rocks in the ground such as the Blarney stone, are given power because of belief. Focused concentration giving energy to a concept, an idea given life through the light of those who seek it.

My own connection to Divinity becomes somewhat fractured at that point, because I recognize the validity of both views and exist within both viewpoints. I know that the Deity I connect with most readily, the Morrigan, is an entity onto herself (three in point of fact, but more on that another time). She is indeed a force to be reckoned with, the great howling form at the gate between, the guardian ushering the seeker across the threshold, keeping them safe but not shielding them from reality. The carrion crow flying down into the heart of battle to pull out the eyes of the enemy. The connection to death that all life has, whether they like it or not, and the lack of fear that comes at the moment of death, when all that exists is what lays beyond the veil. I know all this well, and yet I also know that is equally as valid and as powerful as the great geode sitting on my bathroom floor. It is no greater, in reference to the Divine, than a strand of hair upon the wind, holding the very essence of its owner even as it travels its own path. Separate consciousness, equal connection. Recognizing the Divinity of all creation, of all that is life, I see the differences between and yet know they are one, and through it all flows the essence of everything that simply is. By name, by sight, by scent, it simply is. And in so being, it is Divine.

And all this came from a notion by @theogeer that he had been experiencing a disjointation (Is that a word? It is today.) with Deity recently; a disconnection. Read here: http://tinyurl.com/d7bgme This really resonated with me because I have been feeling similarly.

Now this is not the severe, self-imposed feelings of utter lifelessness of past posting, but simply a wistful want of that connection, lost in the shuffle of mundania and most recently of moving. Nothing kills energetic equilibrium like trying to pack your life into a box or forty. I don't have NEARLY that many, but you get the point.

So tonight I’m off to the outdoors to get my head out of the crap I’m in and reconnect. I would do this at home, but it would simply be more of the same, and that won’t do.

I’m wilting. This day at work needs to be OVER.

Suicide at 11

My heart goes out to the families and friends of those two boys, Carl Joseph Walker-Hoover and Jaheem Herrera, who both ended their own lives due to bullying. This comes not only from someone who is compassionate of the situation, but who has been there.

When I was in school, I spent the vast majority of my life in therapy because I was violent in school. My shrink said it was my fault; school administrators said it was my fault. The only people who knew I was being provoked into self-defense were my parents. I was being bullied, tormented from the bus to school right until I get back to my front door, and as the years passed, the forms of torment became more complex, especially since the aggressors had friends who would gladly lie for them. If no physical marks were left, nothing could be ‘proven.’

Well, the marks are left, laid at the headstone of two young boys who didn’t need to die.

The bottom line: children are cruel. They are cruel because they are not truly taught otherwise. They are taught that doing stupid, mindless, mean shit to other people is funny, not wrong. Yet they get angry when it’s done to them. Or worse, they themselves become indifferent to it, not knowing pain until it’s exploding in their face, then they don’t understand what to do with it.

Children fear what they don’t understand. Anything new that is not given to them in a format that they are used to makes them uneasy. And anything they don’t like, they try to knock over, including other children. They think it makes them better; they think it takes the attention away from them when they force others to look at someone else. I was the someone else. I was the target of whole school buildings because I was different. I was the reason they didn't notice (or could at least ignore) the differences in each other.

I recognize now that I was abused by my peers. There is no other word for it. I was used as an outlet for their emotional stress, without consent or regard. Children in my school who knew nothing about me beyond the fact that I was a target taunted me with everything they could find, to the point of physical abuse. I struck back, defending myself, and I was punished by the teachers and administrators set to give us a safe environment to learn, encouraging the situation. I was touched, I was pushed, I was cut, and I couldn't prove it beyond simple accident. Some of my teacher eventually found my constant complaints a nuisance, brushing me aside for my 'important' matters. I was called names I will not repeat, hair was pulled, even cut, because I was too light to be black, but the hair was still there. I was called troll by faces I never knew only because they could. They were told they could by those who had come before them, and they laughed because they thought it made them like everyone else. Short, fat, smart with bad hair, I was beaten down to the point that I didn’t want to burden my family with my issues. At 11.

I do not wonder why students have brought guns to school, unable to take the strain anymore. I too lashed out, biting, beating, breaking anyone and everyone who got close enough, wanting nothing more than to make it all stop. But even then, my abuse had no end. It knew no limit, my tormentors making a game of finding new ways to hurt me, hurt those like me, because it was fun. Even when I changed school districts, I was different, I was DARK, therefore I was a threat, and I was a target.

These two boys experienced that same kind of abuse, and they cracked under the weight of it. I did not, by the grace of powers greater than myself, and because of this hell that was my life, I grew into someone compassionate, understanding, and a defender of those around me. I can only look forward now, the scars covered but never gone, to a future where schools are safe again, safe from bigotry, safe from hatred, safe from abuse.

And is it too much to ask that the fucks who tormented these two boys get brought before their mothers to answer for what they contributed to? Find these children, and have them justify themselves to the mothers of these boys. Let them explain why they thought this was ok.

And in their turn, once they understand what they have contributed to and why this cannot be allowed to continue, let them be forgiven. They are children, after all. Let them learn, let them understand, and let them stand as lighthouses amongst the disgusting darkness that is socialization in schools. Let this be the last time.

Zero tolerance isn't the answer. Understanding of the situation and combating the lack of compassion and the lack of understanding IS.

It has to end.

Diss America

Let me start off by saying I have to give her props fer speaking her mind. She said what she had to say on National TV, and that does takes balls. Good for her.

Now, about her being a misinformed, publicity-seeking, sore-loser of a bigoted COW....

I have to hand it to her, she's managed to get more publicity for herself and the Miss USA pageant than she EVER would have had she actually won. I'm sure the Pageant people were very happy about that, right up until the moment she said she might sue for losing. Seriously, bitch? You lost because you voiced a closed-minded opinion not shared by MORE THAN ONE OF your judges, and you're going to SUE? Really?

Honestly, she's nothing special. She's a California girl with an uninterrupted tan, perfect hair, a mega-watt smile, and cold stew for brains. But she opened her mouth, stupidity came out, and now she's an instant celebrity AND a loser? Remind me to get up on the mic the next time the Westboro Baptist Church morons come to Chicago so I can verbally stir-fry a few wingnuts and get my place on Larry King. Nothing in the world like getting arrested on National TV!

Oh, wait... I promised Mom I'd never do that. Damn...

Awkward Moments, Moon Jams, and Musings

So I ‘m an idiot. Try to contain your shock. I blew off dinner with people I actually wanted to see (by blew off I mean I totally forgot about it) to have dinner and a movie with a quasi-ex I hated seen in a while. No, not THAT one, but close enough that it was quite awkward. Both of us not meeting the others eyes much, talking was stilted until we managed a neutral topic, neither of us bringing up the past. We always crossed that bridge at dinner, but thankfully not. I don’t’ think either of us wants to dredge that back up. And so to a movie we both loved to hate, and then a parting of ways where both of us were politely running. He did it to get out of the house, I did it to test the waters. They are toxic, though not hopeless. But no swimming or fishing here, ladies and gents. Not ever again.

The full moon jam was incredible. I wasn’t expecting half that many people to be there, but it was beautiful and moving and powerful and I got to see so many faces I hadn’t seen in a while, and few faces I didn’t associate with the Jam.

I love this community so much. It works so hard not to take itself too seriously and yet be open to the moment, and to every face within it. So many beautiful people, so much love of life. As I walked through and met up with one person after another, I realized something truly humbling.

I don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’ve never been good at making connections with people. I try too hard, wanting so much to share in the joys of life that I put people right off, making them uncomfortable. It was my existence for so long I didn’t think anything of it, so I never noticed when ti changed. It changed without my knowledge or say-so, and yet here I stand, in the glorious wake of it, wondering at this sudden embarrassment of riches. I never saw before the connection that were forged with people, and yet as I walk through the night, lit only by fire dancers, to the heartbeat of drummers, I realized that I have a community that cares for me as much as I care for it. I was sought out by face sint he crowd, held warm in their arms and hearts by their will alone. I never knew, but I do now. And I am honor bound to do right by them, and serve in the best way I know how.

By song and story I shall go, by brush and by note I shall show. I’ve always had so much to give, and now I have a place and people to share it with. I am humbled that I am so welcomed, and I open my own heart to them with everything I am. A perfect way to end a full moon.

RENT!

Oh my gods and goddesses alike, there are no words. But since I am both verbose and waxing poetic, I’m going to anyway. No day but today, right? Wow, cheesy. Anyway…

It’s been a LONG time since I’ve seen live theater, so my expectations were honestly non-existent. I walked in only knowing the music by heart and the story through and trough, but not really knowing what my eyes were going to be seeing. Dizzy. Dazzling. And my ears were trying to overlay the music I knew to the show before me. Dreams lie so hard. What was before me was more than music and light and movement and message. It was soul. Pure, unadulterated soul. It still takes my breath away to think about it.

One room became a city populated by more people than I really want to think about. And within it, a family. A series of people connected, by choice and by chance, but connected none the less. It reminded me of something I’d set aside. Not forgotten necessarily, but definite put aside or buried or whatever. The whatever is the problem, but I’ll get to that.

Family. Friends. How they become intertwined. Intermingled, essential to one another. A family of choice becomes extended, fractured, sprained/strained, healed but by the grace of Will with a capital, “Look, man, I love you even when you’re a cunt. I love you even THOUGH you’re a cunt.”

Yet sometimes, the cancer must be cut away, for chemo hurts as much as it heals, which SUCKS….

But in the end, it is said, ‘you can’t choose your family.’ Fuck that. I got mine: George, Theo, Shivian, Frank, John, MeganRose, Tessa, Lisa, Kir, Treesha, Katie, Julie, Sherrie, Sarah, Lois, Karen, Chris, Taylor, Thistle, Chaldean, Little Buddaha, Emily, Preston … I could go on without even leaving Chicagoland. Love cannot be tamed, cannot be denied. And gods (pick one, hell pick several) damn it, I’m not trying anymore.

It took the end to show me why the beginning began. It’s not as it once was and truly never could be again, but it is not quite as fractured as I had once thought. Sprained, strained, but healable. Given time. Patience is not my best virtue, I recognize that, but at least I know it can heal even these wounds, if I back the fuck off and let it happen. I will not say the “O” word, but whatever. A healthy shift in view, slapped in the face of yours truly once again, in time for spring. If it ever stops FUCKING SNOWING….

Int’l Free Hug Day

4-4, Int’l Free Hug Day

Ok, so I woke up this morning with a mission. I was going to hug for several hours. Random people on the street were going to be getting my hugs and sharing in the love and joy that is my existence for hours today.

I bought my poster board, made my sign, and headed to Boystown. And that is where the problem lay…

Now, being a nervous as hell drama queen, I made a PSA ON THE TRAIN about Hug Day, making sure people knew what was going on when they saw people hugging random strangers. It’s disconcerting, I admit, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me.

I held my sign out for the world to see as I walked to the corner of Addison and Halstead, right in front of the police station, and proceeded to announce my presence in my best Herald voice. That’s right, all those years as a Renaissance Herald, as well as vocal and theater experience, made useful to hug people. Broadcasting phrases like, “Int’l Free Hugs day! Free hugs for anyone and everyone!” “No hug will be denied!” “The hugs are free, but if not me, hug the people you love today!” Oh yeah, truth is stranger than fiction.

Anyway, I stood there from a little before noon to 4:10, laughing and smiling and joking, spreading love and joy one hug at a time. I even got a couple of the officers from the station behind me involved, which is awesome. That’s one of the two main reasons I picked that spot. Cops need love as much as anyone else. They have a HELL job. They are hated by just about everyone at one point or another, and that kind of stress needs to be let go now and then, even just a little, tugged free by a short little redhead bent on world-dominion ala “I love you, damn it!”

People were jumping out of cars, hanging out car windows reaching out for hugs. I had people on opposite corners from me hugging each other, which was so great! I passed a couple ‘air-hugs’ to people while laughing because it was silly and fun and beautiful.

But I know now why I was supposed to be there as opposed to Watertower Place where everyone else was. One man. It was about 2 hours in, and I turned, as I did often while waving my sign about, and saw his standing there. He was obviously upset, but he reached out for a hug. I gave him one, and he started weeping. Not enormous, ground-breaking tears, but he needed to connect, and there I was. The world fell away, and Int’l Free Hug Day was put on hold. This young man needed to go to that police station behind me for the same reason he was crying, and I was not about to let him ford that river alone. He explained what happened, and when he’d collected himself, I took him into the station. I emerged needing a hug myself, and I got one from a woman all too eager to share love with me as get it in return. It put me back on track to exchange my joy, and so I did. He emerged again, better but still hurting, so he got hug #2, and stayed near as things came to a close. Hug #3 capped it off, and though I never got his name, I know he was the reason I was supposed to be on that corner. I fulfilled the universe’s design for me that day. Can’t ask for more than that. And if he ever reads this, know that I will remember you always as a beautiful person that I want to see smile.

My hugs ended with aching legs and objecting shoulders, but I was high as a kite off the joy, so I decided to head to Give Peace a Dance for the first time. Awesomesauce, as Shivian would say. People I knew and people I didn’t, many of whom had Hugged as well, so we shared in that joy and some of those stories, ending our day together in companionship and community. What a day. What a glorious, beautiful, freakish, amazing day.

IOWA

4-3 – IOWA

My day started out like any other when someone was coming to invade. Today, it was again mandated by the landlord, which always SUCKS, so I was in a small tiff about everything, which is a failing of mine. I get worked up about crap mid-stride, only to look back and think, “What was I on about?” So I’d gotten done as much as I could, ie had time for, and turned on my computer…

BLISS. There, in black and white all over my RSS feeds, was the state of IOWA BEING AWESOME. And EQUAL. And beautiful. Seconds later Twitter knew. About a minute later Facebook knew, and both had links on how to find out more. Iowa had declared UNANIMOUSLY that the ban on gay marriage was unconstitutional. Talk about a slap to the face of the opposition. A state least likely to do anything that isn’t corn-fed or served on a Collectible Jesus platter said, ‘Nope, not here. Us and the gays? We’re good.’

Good as gold and better. You guys rock hardcore. Now, about California….

UPDATE: just found a fantastic video about Religious Freedom vs. Gay marriage, illustrating why the two are actually related in ways the Anti-Gay movement doesn't talk about, and why they don't talk about it. It's lovely. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A0dKMhYSX20

Trip to Indy Highlight Reel

3-31 – Trip to Indy

Ok, so my trip to Indy just ended in a sunshine stroke of “you bet your ass.” Allow me to explain.

Me, Enterprise Rental, 7:30 am, 3/26. I pick up the car, opting for no insurance because funds really are that tight. They say the car has a ding, but we (the rental guy and I) can’t find it. We sign, I get the keys, and drive to work. I get nothing done. I’m far too excited. Work ends none too soon, and I hit the road with my lease, a series of burned CD’s, and a potted plant in tow. It’s a good time.

The trip takes both too long and surprisingly not long at all. I only go through one of my CD’s fully while drifting in the nebulous space of no decent radio stations between Chicago and Indianapolis. I get to Mom’s at 2, which is SICK, wake the dog thus waking the house, and crash out after the obligatory converse with Drew, my invalid stepfather. I haven’t killed him yet. Everyone should be VERY PROUD OF ME…..

Morning, 3/27, I grab Lexie, my sister the birthday girl, and we go have lunch with Mom. We’re late, which is my fault for being an idiot, but no matter. After lunch Lexie and I run errands before the party, heading to roll call to scare people with the ‘Lexie clone’ (me). Not many people there, but more on THAT later. We get booze and make 10 minute Guacamole that will make you weep with taste bud joy, and I manage not to get us killed TWICE on the road while driving through Indy (I swear that guy needs to be sidelined from humanity, to say nothing of the road), and we head out to Shelbyville for the party.

Amazing. Not a fan of using gasoline to start a bonfire, but then again, it took my hand to move the stick in place to get it going, so I guess the men need us little girl after all for their manly ways and means. What the fuck ever, these guys were sweethearts all around. A bunch of people I didn’t know, but worked with Lex, so they were righteously FREAKED when they had to look up see who was talking. Lex and I sound alike, look alike, speak in the same structure, so it’s always been difficult tell us apart without looking at us. I played the Japanese tourist with Lexie’s camera while she got brightly sloshed. She needed it, it was healthy. I stayed sober to keep watch and drive us home, both of which went off without a hitch. An amazing night under the stars, mapping the constellations with drunk people, and enjoying simple company without pretense. Made a couple new friends, too! Heidi… damn it all, she’s straight and married. Oh, well…

Morning, 3/28, I’m not lucid much, but we have cake and ice cream for breakfast. Lexie, Bert (her husband) and I took off to bookstores and things, just hanging out, then came back to Mom’s. I had wanted to see Michelle, but I was tired, so I opted for an evening with Mom. And the idiot man she married. I haven’t killed him yet. I’m proud. Aren’t you?

Morning, 3/29, and breakfast with Grandma. Note, I haven’t’ seen her in months, but she’s gone downhill. She’s getting thinner, and looking paler than normal. She seems to gain years as months go by. I don’t know that she’s long for this world. I also think she’s been here too long, but enough about her.

MY MOTHER IS A FREAK OF NATURE. I can’t believe I have this to look forward to in my Golden years. She uses colored toothpicks to make arms and feet for my cousin Josh’s sausage links at Denny’s every Sunday. EVERY SUNDAY. In public, and without remorse. While I admire her for that, JESUS, Mother…

But Sunday was relatively lazy, just me and Mom bumming around the house, making soup for dinner, and talking. Ti was so nice to just talk to her. I don’t get enough of that, I admit it, and when it happens, I try to savor it. Not that I’m planning on moving back for these talks, mind you, but I enjoy them, and I wish we had more of them. If we had more, would it mean as much? I honestly think it would…

Morning, 3/30, the day I go home. I head to Crown Hill Cemetery to visit my grandmother (my father’s mother, who died in 1989), and of course, I can’t find her. 3,000 stones in her section of the cemetery alone, and I can’t remember where she’s buried. I’m a bad grandkid. I’m going to find it, though, and make time to see her the next time I go, so help me. I drove to Broadripple for the hell of it…

And that’s when I realized I’d left my phone at Mom’s. Like a dumbass. So I drove back, managed to have very little further contact with Drew (he’s still alive. There’s pride here.), filled up my tank, and hit the road. I don’t remember much of the trip back, which is just as well, and I got back without much trouble. I missed having a car at my disposal before I had completed the walk home. SAD…

The 'you bet your ass' moment? The ding was found on the car, and they didn't charge me for it. Hotness.

So endith my trip play-by-play. Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?

NEW KITTENS!! News at 11…

The New Place

3/18, the new place

I found it. I t took 2 hours and five flops, but I found it. I found my new apartment!!!!

Close to the old place, so that means I’m close to the lake, which is NECESSARY, I’m literally down the street from the grocery store, I’m close to the train, which is amazing, and I’m still close to the Synphorium, which is good because it means less walking time at 3 am. And people can crash as needed.

And it’s BIG. Big enough for me and my crap without stifling me, and small enough not to lose the two new kittens I hope to acquire in the coming weeks. Rooms are good sizes, I know what colors I want to paint for the most part (which means I need to go back and look to make sure) and I know where the bookshelves that need to be built are going!

What really gets me is the natural light. I saw this place close to mid-day on a sunny day, and this place was lit up. Almost every space was saturated in light, and it felt warm. The wood floors glowed with it, the white walls seemed sterile but malleable, and the place just sang. Even the guy from Chicago Apartment Finders walked in and said, “Whoa.’ Whoa, indeed.

Ketchup, blog style.

Ok, everyone, it's time to play that insane brain-dump of a game called "Blog Ketchup."

The Rules:

#1: You can't play the same way twice. No, wait, wrong game. Let's start again...

1. All posts must be posted at the same time.

2. All posts must be dated with the appropriate date of the thought so people can follow.

3. Posts must be in order date so as not to confuse people by going backwards or out of order or some such hysteria. though hysteria is allowed as mood permits.

Strap in, folks, its a short but brutal ride.....