halloween at the office - observations

halloween is a day when people can be whomever they want to be. most people chose to be themselves today - at least from the hours of 9 to 5. but a few came in costume. witches. mexican wrestlers. slash from gun's and roses. etc. etc.

and my question is this: when passing these costume-sporters in the hall, should i check them out, ask them to turn around and to tell me who they are and why? you know, as if they were trick-or-treating on my doorstep. or should i pretend that my co-workers are dressed normally and keep walking like it's any other day? it's all very awkward.

and where is the abundance of candy that i've come to expect on this day of all days?

home.

space is where my head is

i went to target today. i'm moving this weekend and wanted to grab a few things i knew i'd need at the new place. it's a way to avoid a target run in a new neighborhood while rummaging through boxes attempting to find things like sox, the cable box and wine glasses.

so i filled my cart, checked out, drove home and realized i left an entire bag full of items at the cashier stand.

i'm totally with it today.

bright eyes at the lied center - a review

so, i went to lawrence last night. a town i hate to love and love to hate. (because of my alma mater, of course.) but anyway, i went. to see bright eyes. to watch connor oberst in all of his angsty glory. and boy, was i ever excited.

i've seen some good shows this year. like ben harper, mewithout you, wilco and the avett brothers. but i was jumping up and down when i learned i had tickets to this show. yes. i jumped up and down and clapped my hands. and while i was doing that, i announced to my co-workes that i was going to see bright eyes. and i stuck my tongue out a little bit.

back to the subject at hand, doors opened at 7. and after a quick dinner at local burger, i was off to the lied. the show was supposed to begin at 7:30. and the not-well-publicised event never mentioned an opener. but there was one. simon joyner. and i can't seem to wrap my head around what happened while he was on stage. from my seat in the first balcony, he appeared young. his lyrics were good, but his singing was sub-par. he couldn't stay on key. he seemed amateurish. so, when the band came out to play with him, i was confused. i figured maybe he won some local contest. you know an, "open for bright eyes" type of deal. turns out, connor has been obsessing over simon since he was 12. simon is 34. connor is 22ish. anyway, yeah.

by the time bright eyes took the stage it was late for a school night. but i was determined to be moved, shaken and stirred. and i was. but, i also wanted to slap the 13-year-olds behind me. it was like they were at a beatles concert in 1965. screaming, singing every. single. lyric. at the top of thier lungs. badly off key. and occasionally one would scream, "oh my god, i can't believe it. that is connor oberst. oh my god. i love him." i'm surprised they didn't pass out.

bright eyes played for about an hour and a half and did the typical encore. it was memorable, but could have been better if it wasn't for the bizarre opener and the screaming kids behind me.

but connor oberst is something to behold. a talent. a tortured artist. a lyricist like non other. he began recording albums at 15 and has released around 11. if you haven't, check him out.

i leave you with lyrics to my bright eyes song "center of the world."


At the center of the world
There is a statue of a girl.
She is standing near a well with a bucket bare and dry.
I went and looked her in the eyes
And she turned me into sand.
This clumsy form that I despise
It scattered easy in her hand.
And came to rest upon a beach,
With a million others there.
We sat and waited for the sea to stretch out
So that we could disappear into the endlessness of blue.
Into the horror of the truth.
You see, we are far less than we knew.
Yeah, we are far less than we knew.
But we knew what we could taste.
Girls found honey to drench our hands.
The men cut marble to mark our graves.
Said that we will need something to remind us of all the
Sweetness that has passed through us (fresh sangria and lemon tea).
The priests dressed children for a choir (white-robed small voices praise Him)
But found no joy in what was sung.
The funeral had begun.
In the middle of the day
When you drive home to your place
From that job that
Makes you sleep back
To the thoughts that keep you awake
Long after night has come to claim
Any light that still remains in the corner of the frame
That you put around her face.
Two pills just werent enough.
The alarm clock is going off but you are not waking up.
This isnt happening.
It is.

a side note.

i love when people give their dogs distinctly human names. i've always thought that if i got another dog, i'd like to name it stan. i named my first dog charlotte and i almost named little gussy steve instead. but, i didn't want to insult my uncle steve. so, i used that moniker for my fish. anyway, you can imagine my delight while, when searching petfinder.com, i came across a group of saint bernard dogs available for adoption named chris, brad, mark and jeff. the idea of introducing a dog in the following way makes me squirm with satisfaction. "Hi there, yes you can pet Jeff. Jeff is very good with children and only bites when his tail is pulled." oh, the simple joys.

why you should hate me.

i am going to see bright eyes. tonight.

yay.

another installment about me having issues.

i'm a runner. it's what i do. that means you can find me five days a week on a treadmill or on the roads, pounding out the miles. and if my body feels like it needs to rest, i give it the elliptical and a strength-training session. i take at least one day off a week. but that's about it. and it's starting to get hard to keep up with the fit lifestyle i've established. like today. i'm exhausted from moving my friend all weekend. and i feel like i'm getting sick. a normal person would just forgo their workout without a second thought. i mean, last week i ran 20 miles. it ended with a four-mile run on friday.saturday i was a moving mofo and worked for 15 hours straight. and then sunday i moved a few things and collapsed on the couch for the day. that brings me to now. i'm sitting here at home, in my sweats. not wanting to workout. not wanting to even think about running. but why can't i just be okay with not going? it's like my mind keeps saying, "if you miss a day of running, you'll go up three pants sizes and will never forgive yourself." i mean, come on. i hate it.

anyway, anyone else feel my pain? and if so, how do you deal?

notes from the weekend. (or, moving is exhausting)

1. i helped a friend move all weekend. this means that i began helping pack boxes thursday evening and didn't stop until the move was finished and the leftover stuff was unloaded from my car on sunday. i am an asset when it comes to moving. seriously, i should charge for this service. i'm so good at it that on my third trip down a flight of stairs with three boxes stacked on a dolly, i actually said to myself, "i am a bad-ass mofo." yes. just like that. i didn't say what mofo stands for out loud in my head. no. i'm not that crass.

2. moving all weekend is just plain exhausting. it's something people should only do once in a lifetime. i, however, get to move myself next weekend. oh, how i can't wait to be a B.A.M.F. again.

3. the sight of cardboard boxes right now makes my biceps hurt. i have about 20 empty ones in my living room just staring at me.

4. my pregnant sister began to go into premature labor last night around 9 p.m. - while i was still assisting with the move. i was so exhausted physically and emotionally that i actually selfishly thought, "please, no. just hold that baby in another day or two. i just need to sleep." i thought that. about my sister - my best friend. THAT, dear reader, is how exhausting moving is. thankfully, the doctors were able to stop her labor and she is now on bed rest. i'll keep you posted about the journey of me becoming an aunt - holy crap.

5. i am so not qualified to be an aunt. whenever a bunch of women my age are standing around talking about their kids and the silly things they do, i always end up saying, "oh yea, that's what gus does." um, gus is a DOG. i have lots to learn.

i'm not normal.

today i went to quick trip to get a 32-ounce rooster booster light. i like it because it's calorie free and made with splenda. yes, i know i eat organic. but i make exceptions for things like m&ms, fritos and rooster booster light. i filled my cup, took a sip and thought, "wow, this tastes fabulous." and then i actually spent twenty minutes (the entire drive back to work)wondering if some quick trip employee had sabotaged the soda machine in attempt to sabotage diets across the metro area, replacing anything calorie-free with its full-caloried counterpart. i was so convinced it happened that i almost dumped my drink into the trash. i need to get over myself.

wherin i admit my weakness(es)

i can't be around chocolate without eating it. all day. there is a large bag of m&ms on the shelf near my desk. every time i walk by it, i grab four or five. i do this um, maybe once an hour. you do the math. it's ridiculous.

lately, i've been craving anything as long as it's deep fried. chicken fingers. crab rangoon. crispy spring rolls. funnel cake. you get the picture.

one of my most favorite foods is the brilliance that is the pancake. i haven't had pancakes since february.

i like smoked fish. if i see a new option that features fish with a smokey flavor, i'm sold. i bought smoked halibut spread from whole foods last weekend. it's great because it couples the smokey goodness of the fish with one of my other favorite foods - cream cheese. i've eaten it all. and now, i want more.

every time i think about gus, i cry. i keep thinking maybe if i just get a puppy, i'll get over him. but then there's the training and the shots and the food and the expense and the pet-sitters and, well, it all sounds very unappealing when i put it in that perspective. but still, i can't look at or think about a puppy without wanting one. for now, m&ms is a safer habit.

really?

okay, so i watch "the girls next door." i know. um, i typically have very distinguished tv taste.

anyway, i can't even believe it. are these girls for real? it's worse than spencer's nasty facial hair. (yes, i watch the hills, too.)

i almost died today.

and i would like to thank the man in the goldish toyota for making it almost possible. thank you for talking on your cell phone during rush hour. thank you for not noticing that traffic was stopped. thank you for not slowing down from your 70 or so miles-per-hour speed. thank you for honking at me. (at ME) thank you for the near-miss of my bumper as you swerved into the left lane. thank you for cutting of that white SUV and almost causing a huge accident. but mostly, thank you for making my heart skip four or more beats.


yours very truly,

pensive girl

and then things get real.

it's no secret that things have been messy in my world. or maybe it is. and if it is, here's the truth - my face is covered in mud and i can't seem to clean the shit out of the soles of my shoes. and my legs are dirty, too - covered in splatters of watered-down piss. it neither smells good nor looks attractive. but it's there, this mess. and it's real.

i can't smile through the pain and the fear and the overwhelming sadness. not now. not ever. but that doesn't mean that there aren't pockets of joy. because real joy comes from inside. it's not something that runs away when the nights get long and the days get hard. real joy is there eternally. and when i forget about it, it bubbles up slowly, whispering good things and promises. and sometimes - sometimes my ears listen.

but here's the thing, Internet. i am really sick of people looking at my face and my reactions and then judging me. and it hurts when people choose whether or not to be a friend based on how my life appears. that sucks. see, if i'm laughing, it's because something was funny. it doesn't mean i'm not hurting. or that i'm feeling great on the inside. laughter doesn't mean i'm unaffected. it just means i'm human. and that i am trying to remember how to feel. deeply. and with purpose and gusto and with all of the warm fuzziness of a baby bunny or that chick i hatched in first grade.

and when i weep - and i do weep - it's because i feel that, too. the ugliness and the sin and the dark cloud that covered a portion of my life.

and when i use words that make other people's noses turn up, words like i used at the begining of this post - it's because no other words do my life justice. that's the beauty of cuss words, really. when they are used too often, they grow meaningless and dull. but when used at the perfect moment, they pack a punch to the gut. and at these moments of deep, sorrowful feeling, they work.

but don't look at my face or my smile or the fact that i mustered the energy to get a haircut and assume that i'm floating somewhere on cloud 9. just know that i feel it all. and it all makes it hard to get out of bed in the morning - sometimes. those are the days when the anxiety and the temporary depression doesn't seem to be lifting. and while i love autumn - the way it is crisp and refreshing and colorful. it still means winter is close. and the nights are getting longer and the days, shorter. and really, i just wish the sun was shining today.

oh, wilco.

the first time i went to see wilco, i wrote about it here. it was an incredible concert and while it was most memorable, i forgot what songs they played and how many encores they did. all thanks to the crazy fan encroaching on my personal space all night.

the second time i saw wilco was yesterday. they are masters of music. so tight. so talented. and so ready to come out for repeated encores. i believe they did three last night. i don't really have anything else to say about it other than it was incredible. and they played "she's a jar," my favorite wilco song of all time. it was a special treat that i felt was just for me. (even though i know it wasn't.) even more incredible, though, is the fact that andrew bird opened for them. he's a one-man-band and is something to behold.

today i bought the soundtrack to the movie "once." i didn't like the movie. but the music isn't bad.

i've also been enjoying the new radiohead album "in rainbows."

ok, i think that's it.

i miss this.

that day.

i keep thinking about that day
and how we didn’t speak at all.
i imagine it’s because you had nothing to say to me –
the one that hurt you.

so, i listened to you banter with your friend
and to the chief’s game in the background
and to the old air conditioner that was loud enough
to drown out my sobbing.

by the end of it all, i was covered in dust
and i was crying
and gus was whining
because of the thunder and wind
outside.

i wanted to pretend he was whining because
he’d miss me
or because he wonders where i’ve gone
and why mommy doesn’t love him anymore.
but i know he was just scared
of the world outside that he didn’t understand.

i’m scared, too – you know.
and my yellow umbrella wasn’t enough to keep me dry
as i walked away for the last time .

i wanted to hug you
and to tell you how sorry i am
and to try to explain better than i have.
i wanted to talk about mistakes
and life
and about how your running was going.

but now i’m in this big, unknown world
halfway huddled beneath my red blanket
spooning the place where gus used to lay.
and i can't stop wondering when this storm is going to blow over
so that i can feel the son’s light on my face.

so, i got bangs.

and i have a feeling that they won't look this good ever again.

seriously.

it is 1:20 on friday. i took today off because i needed to tie up some loose ends. i had no idea my day would turn out like it has. please, dear Internet, humor me with sympathy.

7:40 a.m., wake up. then realize that i can sleep in today if i want. fall back asleep.



8:30 a.m., wake up with list of things to get done running through my head. figure i might as well get started.



9:15 a.m., 4-mile run on very hilly course. the first hill exhausts me. there were 6 more.



10:00 a.m., after the run and the cool-down walk, i enter my apartment to find that i have to electricity. no Internet. no air conditioning. no lights. no cold refrigerator. nothing.



10:05 a.m., as i look to my cell phone ( i don't have a land line) to call my apartment office to figure what in the heck is up, i realize that it has died. my cell phone. completely dead. this is when i began to freak out a bit.



10:15 a.m., after the apartment office manager told me to call the electric company on my own to let them know of the outage, i jump in my car to head to Tmobile. halfway there i realize that my car is running on fumes.



10:30 a.m.., arrive at Tmobile location, wait for 20 minutes to find out i need to go to another location.



10:50 a.m., fill my tank at quick trip. go inside to pay and avoid near death by a white civic that wasn't watching where it was going.



11:00 a.m., the correct Tmobile location gives me a loaner phone. and though my hot pink dead phone was still under warranty, i reluctantly agree to pay the $15 shipping to get a new one.



11:30 a.m., stop at target to get things like a file cabinet and a new top (what? i was stressed and needed some clothing therapy.)



12 noon, back at the apartment that has full power (yay) i think "okay, i'll take a shower and nothing else will go wrong today."



12:45 p.m., i have to pee, so i do. and when i flush, the toilet clogs and overflows leaving 3 inches of water on the bathroom floor.



12:46 p.m., call apartment manager that was rude to me earlier. maintenance is sent up.



12:50 p.m., maintenance arrives, says they don't have a wet/dry vac and that i should use my own towels to clean up the water. (the pee water, mind you.)



1:15 p.m., still waiting for maintenance to arrive with the "snake" to get to the bottom of the most easily clogged toilet ever.



1:18 p.m, they are snaking my toilet. i hear things like "holly!" "what, it's stuck." and "OH!"







maybe i should just go back to bed.

wow

if i was an artist, i'd be happy to paint and draw like paul flinders. the above piece is called "leaves." and below, "the fool." i have a birthday approaching. and these, these need to be mine.
(kidding, but not really.)

so...

i'm getting a tattoo. yeah, me. i am. getting one soon. crazy, i know.

or maybe not so crazy.

today, my time was spent clearing a trail on a work-sponsored volunteer day. that means i learned what a lopper was. and i carried one around all day - looking busy and stuff.

and randomly, sites without intuitive navs have really been pissing me off lately. maybe i'm an Internet geek. or maybe i'm just the product of my employer, but seriously, get with the times. do you want to fail a forrester review or something?

and lastly, heidi, freaking break up with spencer. (if you know what i'm taking about, dear readers, then i'm sure you agree.) if you don't know what i'm talking about, i'm not sure i'm willing to admit that i watch "The Hills." oops, i just did.

goodnight Internet, sleep well - intuitively, of course.

weak.

cardboard isn’t strong enough
to hold all of that stuff
and those things
and the heaviness in my heart
and on my mind
and in my eyes welling up with tears

no, there isn’t a box that will do.