Five Years

It occurred to me yesterday morning that I missed writing on my blog anniversary this year. Granted, I spent the day in the sun at the pool club with one of my very best friends, who I happened to meet because of this blog, and hers, and then celebrated her daughter's birthday and played cards until midnight, so I was definitely otherwise occupied. But, I've been on vacation before when this day has come up on the calendar, and been prepared for it. This year, I wasn't. Perhaps deliberately so.

When I took this blog behind the wall in September, it changed my relationship with it, and with all of you. What used to be an open forum, an all-inclusive brain dump suddenly became an exclusive party. And yes, exclusive parties are nice for a while, but then they get stale, and you want fresh blood again. For a little while, I actually toyed with marking this anniversary with a final hurrah for the Midvale School. Seriously considered making Only a Northern Song the one place I wrote online. But, I'm not ready to give up this space, this online persona that is as much a part of who I am as anything else I do. I'm just tired of hiding. Even behind the wall, I didn't really open up as much as I thought I would with that "safety net". So, here's some things I'd been hiding during the year, that can come out into "the light", I suppose.

This has been the hardest year of my life, professionally. This new district demands 110% of my effort and almost as much of my time, and I've had a hard time juggling some of their demands. I'm not sorry I made the switch, as in terms of my career and professional development, this is a tremendous place for me to be. But, it has been harder than I ever could have imagined, and I worry about it.

I finally let go of someone I loved very much, and had been waiting to find out if we had a chance to be together. We don't. I made that realization as he slept on my couch this past March, and I slept in my room and sobbed. Letting go of someone you've spent so much time and energy believing in is difficult, and painful, but ultimately like taking a cast off of a broken limb. It itches and it's pale in comparison, and you treat it very gingerly, until you're sure it's just fine on its own. He remains a dear friend, but I have to move on.

In a way, I have. I've been dating someone since the end of April. He is talented and funny and free-spirited and sexy, and I am completely and utterly smitten with him, and it's totally frustrating for me. Trying to date like a normal person and not throw all my energy into this relationship, and knowing as well that he is doing the exact same thing and holding back somewhat because of other circumstances in his life is not the way I'm used to approaching a relationship. As "uncategorized" as we may be, we are in a "relationship", whether we call it that or not. And I'm annoyed with myself about being so girly about this one; why do I need to hear him say the words, "yes, you're my girlfriend"? As far as I know, it will change nothing in terms of how we're approaching this, at least for the time being. Maybe it's because he's here and willing to try, as much as he can give right now, which isn't as much as he WANTS to give right now. Maybe it's because I see this having potential. Real potential, and my normal mode of operation would be to rush at it and jump in, feet first and damn the torpedoes. And, we're not. We're deliberately putting brakes on this forward momentum and keeping it at a crawl. So, although I get it rationally, because I know what he's doing career-wise right now, and it's exciting to watch someone actually go about building their dream, my heart wants more. And, to avoid leaving this on a whiny and negative note (remember, positive energy into the universe, and positive energy will come back to you), he has these amazingly sexy shoulders and incredible blue eyes, and I could just look at them all day long. He was the magic that happened the night I stayed up all night after dancing in public, and I need to keep this magic in my life.

So, dear readers and friends, it's been a very emotional year behind the wall. And I'm amazed that some of you have stuck around as long as you have. Five years of blogging, and I'm not ready to stop. Not yet. But maybe I am ready for a change.

Five Years - David Bowie


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Remembering Who You Are, Lucky 13

Scott SanGiacomo Two come to mind right off the bat...1. late 80's( I think) you arguing religion with my neighbor, I believe he was in grad school at the time and you took him to the mat! 2. The other involves a Beatles classic and 50+ boy scouts ; ) July 17 at 3:31pm

I have known Scott for 28 years. We met in the 5th grade, when his elementary school was closed and condensed into mine. And over the course of those 28 years, we have alternately been really good friends, and have also drifted away from each other. At this point, we've come to the conclusion that we are inextricably linked in each other's lives, and we love this fact.

Both of these events, I remember as well. His neighbor, Lee, used to love to talk to us. I would walk up to Scott's house when we were in junior high, and later in high school, drive up there, and we would stand in the street and talk. Scott was, and is, quirky and artistic and soft-spoken and an amazing drummer, and I am loud, and opinionated, and really smart, and, as Scott once described someone "who would talk to a tree if you thought it would talk back". So, Lee and Scott and I were often engaged in massive gab sessions. We may have been discussing the existence of God during this conversation, and I think I was attempting to prove this as fact. It was glorious. Scott to this day will sometimes just wind me up and let me go in the right circumstance. The Beatles and Boy Scouts incident, well, let's just say singing Helter Skelter wasn't the first mistake we made that night; possible making me the lead singer of his band was. Our one and only gig with me at the mic, and we sang Helter Skelter, Hey Joe, New Sensation, and Sunshine of Your Love. I know we rehearsed Whole Lotta Love, but a girl singing about squeezing my lemon until the juice runs down my leg was even LESS believable than where I may have been going with that gun in my hand. I also remember I was getting a cold, and Scott's mother feeding me copious amounts of tea so I could sing.

Scott is another book of memories. Half of the items in the blurb under my high school year book picture involve him. He taught me how to steer out of a spin on snowy roads in my mother's station wagon. We've been to dozens of concerts together. The first time I ever got REALLY drunk and puked my brains out was in his basement one New Year's Eve. And over the last few years particularly, he has become one of my biggest champions. He held signs for me when I was campaigning for school committee; his parents had one on their lawn; his children like being with me. I rewrote my profile on a dating site based on how I thought Scott would describe me to a potential date, and I met J. Seriously. He was the first person to buy a ticket to Dancing With The Norwood Stars, and he was the first person to find out when I broke up with Dale, and he helped me through that first day, while simultaneously being one of Brian's groomsmen.

I really can't imagine how much less fun my life would be without Scott's presence. 28 years is a long time to travel with someone, and I don't know if I could ever put into words how much it's meant to me that he's been here all this time. Simply put, he is one of my favorite people in the whole world, and I'm so grateful that we've grown into adults together, and still like each other as much as we did in elementary school. We may even like each other MORE now. Scott, thank you, for the years and years of memories you and I have shared. Here's to years and years of more. Be well... and never play Helter Skelter to a bunch of Boy Scouts. Without me. :)


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Now playing: The Police - Walking On The Moon
via FoxyTunes

Remembering Who You Are, Part 12

Jersey Boy

Sean Quirk so, here's my memory of Corf - rocking out to that shit band in the Saint, Liz and Nick are all about it and we were making fun of them- the band I mean. July 16 at 4:06pm

It's true; Sean and I were not fans of this band. However, it had been a really fun evening regardless of the musical selection. This was actually my first time meeting Sean, although he and I had talked online many times before this. He is one of Liz's friends from high school, and they had recently reconnected via facebook, and she thought he and I would get along famously. And we do; we have similar tastes in music, we talk to each other easily and openly, and we make each other laugh.

Truth be told, I think Liz may have envisioned Sean as a part of her arsenal of weapons to get me to move to New Jersey--build me up a great friend base, so that any adjustment period would be minor. This is an on-going semi-joke between us; I go down there for a visit, and we'll do something fun or eat somewhere with great food, and she'll turn to me and say something to the effect of, "and when you move here, you can have this all the time." But, this is a memory piece about Sean, not Liz. Liz's memory pieces, already in the relatively short time I've known her, are another book. Suffice it to say, I am NOT moving to New Jersey, but I do have many friends there when I visit, and Sean is one of them. I was disappointed that he was not around this week to come say hi. Next time. So Sean, thank you for being one of my memories. See you on facebook.


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Now playing: Clutch - Tight Like That
via FoxyTunes

Remembering Who You Are, Part 11

Of all the people I've reconnected with on facebook, this next friend was one of the ones I was most excited about finding.

David Donovan "In my dorm room at BC talking about our futures and me considering becoming a priest...Father Dave...ugh...but would make a great TV sitcom" July 16 at 8:33am

If you ask me how Dave and I actually met, I don't know that I could tell you. I just remember him suddenly being there in my life. We would have lunch together almost every day, he would let me crash in his dorm room between classes, so I could read, or study, or just simply take a break, and he would lend me his meal card towards the end of term when mine was nearly out, and he had plenty of dollars left on his. Dave lived just the next town over from campus, and was getting a free ride, as his father was the campus physician for 20 years. But, his parents still paid room and board for him to live there, however, he went home a lot on weekends. And Dave and I were always friends; if there was any attraction on his part, he never showed it. This memory he posted was a great one, as I remember this conversation, too. There are so many other wonderful memories of Dave in my head, too.

Dave is solely responsible for my finally understanding and loving football. I was one of those alterna-chicks in high school and decried all sports, so I found it highly ironic that I ended up at BC, a school identified with college sports as much as anything. He was incredulous that I had never gone to a football game, as he lived and breathed the game. He played in high school, grew up watching BC football, and followed many teams regularly. So one day, he and I buy student tickets, and he sits me in the stands and narrated every single play, every single penalty, and every single rule. He was incredible, and from that moment on, from that private tutorial from such a huge fan, I began to love the game, too.

One Wednesday night before Thanksgiving, Dave had a small party in his dorm room for his high school friends who were home for the weekend, and for some reason, he invited me to come hang with them. At one point in the evening, I realized that I was phenomenally drunk, AND the only girl in the room. We were playing either Questions or I Never Ever, and suddenly, he didn't like the turn the game was taking, and he shut down one of his friends with a blistering look, and parked himself right next to me. He also determined that I was not driving home that evening. So, I called home at one or two in the morning to tell my father to tell Mom I would be home in time for dinner (yeah, THAT was a fun entrance home). Dave then promptly put me in his bed, and put himself in the chair next to it, like my own private watch dog.

I remember a weekend down at his best friend Chris's family home in Hull. We got pizzas, and a movie, and beers, and the three of us hung out under a giant quilt on the couch all weekend, drinking and laughing and watching old movies, while a storm raged outside. Another party at his parents' house, the last night it was in the family, as they were closing on the sale the next day. The house was empty of all furniture, and Dave decided to have one last bender. I have pictures from this party, actually. I went to the liquor store and loaded a shopping cart full of beer, and drove over there, and we were up until the wee hours of the morning. We all fell asleep in great heaps on the floor. Dave and I were awake earlier than everyone else, and I don't remember what exactly we talked about, but we had another one of our famous conversations that morning. Van Morrison's "Moondance" album featured prominently that night.

Dave, quite simply, is one of the best people I've ever met in my entire life, and unfortunately, we drifted away after I graduated BC and got married soon afterward. But, he always lingered in my head, and I wondered what had happened to him. So I was thrilled to find him on facebook, and equally thrilled to learn he remembered our days there together as fondly, and as vividly, as I did. He's married now, with a stepson, and a daughter of his own, and I could not be happier for him. So Dave, thank you, so much, for being such a strong part of my time at BC, and for being one of my favorite memories. It's good to talk to you again.

It's A Marvelous Night For A Moondance

Moondance - Van Morrison

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Remembering Who You Are, Part 10

The first totally internet friend.

Yellojkt Yellojkt: Listening to all the great Ani Difranco songs you post. July 15 at 11:15pm

I have never met Yellojkt, but I've been reading his blog for some years now. He's an interesting writer, and I always enjoy his posts. And apparently, he's an Ani DiFranco fan, among other great female artists. So, I find it interesting that he's chiming in here, and even more interesting that Ani's been attached to me in his brain. So, thank you, yello, for reading my ramblings all these years, and for being one of my memories, electronic or not. Here's another great Ani song for you.

Marrow - Ani DiFranco

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Remembering Who You Are, Part 9

Doug Sitting in the Shamrock, singing to the Cranberries. July 15 at 10:13pm

This bar holds an infamous place in my history, as it was where I met my ex-husband. But before that, it was just a skeevy Norwood bar that Rosemary and I loved to hang out in, most weekends. And very often, we'd be hanging out with Doug.

I knew Doug from high school, sort of. He went to the technical high school a few towns over, and was a year or two ahead of me, but one of his teachers got a job at my high school, running our fledgling video lab, and this is how we met. He would come in after school to say hello to the teacher, and I would generally be in there playing with the equipment. And, Doug and I would always just be very "conscious" of each other. Sometimes chemistry makes itself known before names make themselves known. But, he and I were just always cosmically misaligned; he was dating someone, I was dating someone, some sort of combination like that. Fast forward to the early 90s, and we meet again, and are able to drink.

He was definitely responsible for my first tequila shot, I can attest to that. I believe I grabbed the end of the table, bug-eyed, and when the bartender came by to collect some bottles from the table next to us, I grabbed his arm, and pointing to Doug, gasped, "the next time he orders me tequila, PUNCH HIM." This night was not at all tequila fueled, just Norwood quantities of Bud Light. Rosemary was being her giggly self, and Doug was very subtly teasing her. It would take her two or three minutes to realize what he said, and she'd say, "DOUGIE!!!" and we'd all laugh. The other great thing about the Shamrock was their jukebox. For a dive bar in Norwood, it had a remarkably fantastic collection of alternative rock. And at one point or another, the Cranberries would come on. Doug LOVED the song "Zombie"; he loved how Dolores did that panting thing in the chorus (did I mention Doug is a pig, in the best way possible? Right. That's important). So there we are, buzzed on Bud Light, singing the Cranberries in this dark bar, with all sorts of suggestive innuendo. It was a great time. I still think of him every time I hear that song; some people just assign themselves to music in your life, and never let go.

Doug features into many other really bizarre memories of mine, with varying levels of "fit to print" status. So, without revealing too much, as a lady never tells (haha), thank you, Doug, for being one of my more enjoyable memories.

Zombie - The Cranberries

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Remembering Who You Are, Part 8

And so we come to Kate.

Kate Kenney Rosalin Baxter. Weird load. Driving off the highway with u behind the wheel only to be saved by hells angels. Whiskey. Meat house. Oh did you say one :) July 15 at 9:40pm

Each one of these items mentioned is a specific, and utterly hysterical, memory I have involving Kate, my sister Colleen's best friend since the seventh grade. Kate, at this point, isn't so much simply a friend as an honorary sister.

Some brief description on each one, I think, is in order. Rosalin Baxter is the name of a woman that some random drunk was repeating, trying to demand entry into our house while we were in high school. Actually, Kate and my sister may have still been in junior high. Eventually, this man was shooed off by my father, but not before Kate managed to wedge herself under our living room coffee table in an attempt to hide.

The Weird Load was my car through college. Held together by bumper stickers and chewing gum.

Driving off the highway was significantly less funny. I'm not proud of the fact I almost killed her and my then-husband, but I fell asleep at the wheel after being up all night fighting with Kevin, and then drove Kevin and Kate home from Cape Cod the next afternoon. I managed not to flip us, and although they weren't Hell's Angels, they were two bikers, who pulled over, made sure we and the car were ok, and then told us to get the hell out of there before the cops arrived. Sage advice.

Whiskey is self explanatory. The Meat House is a joke between the two of us from this past 4th of July, where we hung out, just she and I, for the first time, and laughed our asses off all night at the name of that butcher shop.

The list of memories, funny, touching, sad, insane, that involve Kate could be a book. Maybe a book I should write. But in all honesty, her presence in our family's life has simply made it richer.

Thanks, Kate, for being a central figure in so many of my memories, and so much of my life. I love you, sistah!!!


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Now playing: Shooter Jennings - Fourth of July
via FoxyTunes

Remembering Who You Are, Part 7

Although Leslie, and later Kate, could be considered family, this entry actually IS family.
Gina Intraversato Your expression when we told you there was no Santa,LOL July 15 at 9:31pm

Gina is my cousin on my mother's side, my late aunt's only daughter. Our relationship has always been kind of strange; when we were kids, she used to love to shock us, as she is the oldest cousin, and we didn't see them often. Actually, even as an adult, she loves to shock us. It's entirely possible this story is true. I don't remember if it was Gina that told me there was no Santa Claus, but it wouldn't surprise me. Gina has a flair for the dramatic; our mothers are both Irish-Italian, but her father is entirely Italian. The positive side of that formula is that she can cook like no one's business. So could her mother. Some of the best Thanksgiving dinners my family has ever had involved Auntie Anne's cooking. Gina is also a nurse, and an extremely talented one. She's a fierce advocate for her patients, and will stand up to doctors for what she thinks is necessary and right. If something serious ever happens to me medically, Gina is coming with me to every appointment.

I love my cousins, and I always enjoy spending time with them. It's harder now, though; Gina's brother David has moved to Maine with his family, and Gina lives in Humarock. We saw a great deal of them after their mother died, which was horrible and traumatic for all of us, particularly my mother, and I know she wishes that Gina and David were closer. And we have some interesting memories together, some good, some bad, some slightly twisted and dangerous. One summer bbq with our mothers' family and a roman candle fight comes to mind. But despite the slight danger involved, I want to thank Gina for being one of my memories, and for being the ferocious woman she is.

And yes, I have a recent picture of Gina. I just happen to love this one of the two of us, taken at my maternal grandparents' house. I might be three in that picture, which would make her six.

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Now playing: Aerosmith - Sweet Emotion
via FoxyTunes

Remembering Who You Are, Part 6

Of all my former workmates, I miss Vanessa a great deal.

Vanessa Wade Wehmeyer "Discovering in my interview that you were from Norwood, too =)" July 15 at 9:20pm

I didn't pick the resumes for candidates for school psychologist, but when I saw the address on hers reading "Norwood, MA", I was immediately intrigued. Turns out Vanessa was a bandie, and although she and I did not know each other in high school, as she's about 6 or 7 years younger than I am, she knew many of my younger bandie friends. Or, had at least heard the stories. I was particularly thrilled when she was hired to be the school psychologist in my building.

We developed a great working relationship during my last few years there, and became friends as well. Vanessa is kind, an excellent school psychologist, and is turning into a fantastic mother to boot. In fact, I found this little memory meme on her facebook page, and the memory I posted was about her telling me she was pregnant over lunch at a conference we were attending together. I was so excited for her. Poor woman had to go on bed rest for the last 2 1/2 months of that pregnancy, and I remember visiting her in the hospital and feeling so bad listening to her complain about how bored she was. Laying on your left side for 2 months will do that to you, I suppose. But, her daughter is lovely, and all worked out for the best. I wish we still worked together. So, thank you Vanessa, for being one of my memories, and having all sorts of Norwood memories in addition.

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Now playing: Soul Coughing - Super Bon Bon
via FoxyTunes

The Little Known 5th Horseman of the Apocalypse

Just watch, and judge for yourselves. My head may have just exploded.

Remembering Who You Are, Part 5

Facebook has been very interesting for me to play with over the last eight months or so; you see, my high school class's 20th reunion is this year, and many, many classmates, some I was friends with, some I was clearly NOT friends with, and some who I just "knew" from being in the halls have all started "reconnecting" on this medium. This memory was from one of those Class of 1989 folks:

Joy Lynn Johns "Ha, Courtney. I already sort of did this when we messaged. From our homeroom days, deflecting Pat McKinnon's flicking and macabre whispering :P You'd absolutely lose it on him and it was so funny. He terrorized us!" July 15 at 9:16pm

Joy and I had homeroom together pretty much all through junior high school and a good portion of high school. I don't know that we were ever friends, but we were never mean to each other and would talk occasionally through the years, probably because of this twit she's talking about in this memory. Pat was a dickhead; Pat, unfortunately, lived across the street from me, so whereas Joy could go home finally and escape his taunts, I had to deal with it after hours as well. Adding insult to injury was that he was Rosemary's brother. And although I don't remember the specific instance she's talking about in this memory, I'm quite sure it happened. I could be a hothead when pushed too far. I still can, although the years have taught me that cold calculating responses can often be more effective.

What's nice about Joy adding something to this list is that, as mentioned, even though we were never really friends, people remember you for different things, and even the smallest incident will hang around in someone's consciousness for years, and define who you are to that person. I'm just glad Joy had a memory of me doing something "good" for her and for me, and not something cruel. Joy has grown into an adult woman that I would not have predicted when we were in school together, in a very positive and happy way. Plus, one of our first exchanges on facebook ended up being a complete geek-out about Lord of the Rings--unexpected and very cool. So, thank you, Joy, for weighing in and providing a memory in this little experience. It's been really nice talking with you once more.

Remembering Who You Are, Part 4

Ah, Leslie...

Leslie: "Fire and Rain costume at the V Street Party, and how that night altered people's brains. :P...Oh, and I think you knocked down the mirror ball and used the mirrors to accessorize your face. But I can't remember too well. Wonder why."Wed at 9:11pm

Leslie is my sister Cat's best friend; we'll hear from Colleen's best friend a little later on in the series. Leslie's parents were retired, and spent most of their time living in their house on the Cape, leaving their primary residence for Leslie, and her brother Mike, off and on, to live in here in Norwood. The parties that were thrown in that house are the stuff of legend. Truly. Three floors of general madness, and all of us old enough to know what we were doing at that point. Basement was generally the ice luge and the dance floor (not in the same room, clearly); main floor was the party essentials--food, booze, chairs, door to the back porch for smoking; third floor, well, what was the upper floor in a party house generally used for in most 80s teen movies? And that dance floor was WELL USED. There is a DJ here in Norwood that keeps our favorite dance songs in his kit at all times, on the off chance he should run into all of us at a function. We could throw down.

Leslie, also being a terrific geek like me, would frequently throw a themed party. She's referencing a party she threw, in 2000, maybe, that was a "Dress As Your Favorite Song" party. Guests had to come in their best interpretation of their favorite song. And, since our friends are highly creative, the night was pretty incredibly funny. I myself was NOT Fire and Rain; that honor went to my friend Kristian, who also is the one decorating people's faces with the broken mirror ball. You remember, dance floor in the basement. That night, I actually had three costumes, as I could not decide. My first was me wrapped in blue streamers; the second was me draped in 50 cent rosary beads, crucifixes cut off and being "lost" all over the party; the third was me, with bandaids on my face, and handcuffs dangling from my wrist. I'll let you all see if you can guess my three songs.

There are rumors of a video camera being hidden in the bookshelf downstairs, filming the dance floor all night at this particular party. I shudder to think of what that footage contains. I don't actually have a picture of Leslie and I from that party, although I have many pictures of Leslie from OTHER parties, including Cat's 30th birthday, which, as I remember, was pretty indicative of all of those V Street evenings. I also leave you with music from those enchanted evenings, but truly, I don't think you're ready for this jelly. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU Leslie, for being in so many of my memories, those retrieved and those sacrificed to the party gods as well.

In this picture, Leslie is on the left, my sister Colleen is on the right, and her best friend is in the middle. I could write a book. This picture was taken at our infamous Holiday Mixer in 2007. Such a good time, and one confirmed pregnancy after that one was said and done, too.

Bootylicious - Destiny's Child

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Remembering Who You Are, Part 3

Jessica, Nikki, Mike, originally uploaded by crau1971.

This one made me laugh out loud:

Jessica "You know mine Court - when you threw me outta your house circa 1992 I think? hee hee..."

I didn't have a lot of house parties in high school, although my younger sisters did. Frequently. Occasionally, these parties would get a little more crowded than they needed to be, to put it mildly. My sisters are only a year apart, and between them, they probably were good friends with half of the teenagers in Norwood, and likely knew by name the other half. One of the girls in the overlapping circles they ran in was Jessica. For some reason, which I could not even begin to tell you why now, I could not STAND Jessica. Now, Jessica and I have had this conversation over the years, so she knows what I'm going to say. My initial impression of Jessica was that she was stuck up, full of herself, and bossy. I remember asking Cat why she hung out with her; "she's friends with Shivaun, so she's friends with me," was always Cat's response. I remained judgemental. One of my lesser traits.

Cat had one of her many parties in my parents' house one weekend they were away, and it was getting "crowded". A lot of kids I didn't recognize were coming in the door, and many of them were already a little too drunk for that early in the evening, so I was getting worried one of the neighbors would call the cops. Suddenly, a group of girls comes in the back door, and Jessica is one of them. Looking for a reason to start tossing kids out, I shout across my kitchen, "Jessica... get the FUCK out of my house!!!" Verbal melee starts with the friends, and the sister, and random other folks; however, I throw Jessica out of the house. My sisters were pissed, but it kept the numbers down.

Years later, my sister Cat is out with friends, and she falls and breaks her ankle. And the person who took charge of the emergency, took her to the hospital, and waited while she got fixed up was Jessica. I saw her at a party (ironically enough), and we talked to each other for the first time. And, Jessica is a great person. She's funny and smart, and she always has her friends' backs. So, the incident of me throwing her out of the house has become a great joke within that circle of friends. A great lesson for me, too, about not judging people. So, thank you, Jessica, for being one of my funnier memories.

Jessica is the first person in the picture. The gentleman on the right will feature in a later story. His sister's memory is next on the list.

Remembering Who You Are, Part 2

Ty, Lisa, Audrey, Me, Sue, originally uploaded by crau1971.

From another facebook friend:

Susan at 7:48pm July 15:" Sammy's Christening!"

Since tomorrow, I will see Susan again at the aforementioned Sammy's first birthday party, it's only fitting I choose her for today's entry. I had met Susan for the first time at Sammy's baby shower; Sammy's mother and father are my game night friends, Kevin and Audrey. Susan went to college with them. We got along very well, so I was pleased to see her at Samantha Mary's christening the next October.

Sitting in the restaurant waiting for the private room to be ready, we all realized we were hungry, and getting a little annoyed at the hall's unpreparedness. Finally the room, and the bar, open. I came to the christening with Scott and Brian, and we sat with Susan and her boyfriend Jay, and we proceeded to get completely buzzed at 2:00 in the afternoon on a Sunday in October, and tell crazy stories about rock concerts and people we'd met and parties. Less of a christening and more of an actual party. We had a phenomenal time continuing to get to know one another, and likely being a little too boisterous for the occasion. Tough luck, you know you all wanted to sit with us anyway.

In the picture, Susan is next to me, on the end, in a blue cardigan. So thank you, Susan, for being one of my memories!!

Remembering Who You Are, Part 1

This little meme has been floating around facebook for a while, and yesterday, I decided to participate. "Social experiment: if you read this, even if we don't speak often, post a comment with a memory of you and me. It can be anything you want. When you're finished, post this paragraph on your own status." I threw it up on my status, and then walked away from my computer for the next 12 hours. The responses I saw, quite frankly, really, really touched me. Different friends and acquaintances put up some of the the smallest, but intimate memories of us, memories that in some cases, I was thrilled to see that the person who posted it remembered it the same way as well. I've gone back and read the status updates several times today, and I've decided to use each one as a blog entry. Telling each story, maybe giving a song or a picture for reference. So, without further ado, here's story number one.

Derek at 7:34pm July 15. "Finding out that you had a thing for JC"

Derek and I work together at my new job. The summer before I started there, I found out that an old high school crush, who I had also dated briefly, had also worked there. Over the course of the fall, I let this knowledge out to certain people. One day, I brought in a picture I had taken of JC at his high school graduation. The IT teacher and I decided to play a prank on him, and forwarded the picture. I also made a point of showing different people who had known him the photo. All were amazed that it was JC; "how do you know him?" was the universal questison. Most folks got the abbreviated version, including Derek, who also found it highly amusing that I "had a thing" for JC. Derek and I later connected on almost the very same topic JC and I first connected--the band The Cult. So, this song is for you, Derek. Thank you for being one of my memories.

P.S. The picture? JC, at the end of the year party for my school. It was great to reconnect again.

Embrace the Wind With Both Arms

Brother Wolf, Sister Moon - The Cult


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July 15, 1999

He wore a suit; I wore my best dress. My mother was on one side of me, my attorney on the right. The entire proceeding lasted less than 10 minutes. I barely even remember what was said, other than my saying, "yes, your honor". I managed to keep my tears at bay until he and his attorney had cleared the courthouse. I may have gone to lunch with my mother; she asked, and I know I initially said no, that I wanted to be alone, but I might have changed my mind. I was going to be alone quite a bit in the coming months; why add to that time if it wasn't necessary?

Ten years ago today, I was divorced. These days, people in my life now would not have any idea that I was ever married unless I came right out and told them. In the interest of full disclosure, particularly when I meet someone new who could be more than "just a friend", I generally do tell people I was married. It's only fair, after all. And I always wonder how, or if, to broach the specific details, air all the dirty laundry, as the dirty laundry is all mine. Well, no. Promises were broken on both sides of this story. My betrayal is just easier to point a finger at when the day is done. His was no less hurtful to our relationship, though. His came first, and set the avalanche moving. But, I don't want this post to be about rehashing what did happen; my intention with this is for it to be about what I've learned in the last ten years.

I've learned that I was never so far removed from who I really am as a person as I was in the years I was with my ex-husband. This is a terribly difficult thing to admit, losing yourself. We always like to think of ourselves as in control at all times, not susceptible to pressures, always following our instincts. But I'll be honest, part of me was following my instincts in saying yes to his proposal. My instincts always guide me on the path of least resistance, or, they did for a long time. I never wanted to hurt anyone, disappoint anyone, be seen as less than perfect. Oldest child, over-achiever, goody-two-shoes, utterly naive, whatever it was, going along with this arrangement was the path of least resistance. I mean, you're supposed to say yes to a proposal, right? And I was, and still am in some ways, very naive. Even after I began to wonder if getting married was really what I wanted, in my head, I had made this commitment. I felt it necessary to see it through. And then I failed. Miserably. Forgiving yourself after something that huge, that life changing is a long, long road.

And it took many more failures to realize that I know who and what is good for me, who and what helps me be the woman I know myself to be. Intelligent, beautiful, witty, deserving of someone who appreciates the person I am every day, and isn't out to change me, or stand in my light. If the last ten years have been a journey, the last two have been utterly transformational. It's taken me ten years to learn this lesson, this critical lesson about myself--I deserve to be happy. It's taken me ten years to actually FEEL happy again; I've been pretending to be since July 15, 1999, and it's only within these last two years that I've finally made myself truly this way. My life is not perfect, but it is wholly mine.

Ten years ago today, I divorced my husband. The hardest lesson I ever learned was how to walk away and start again. Ten years later, I finally feel like I'm walking in the right direction.

Someone Saved My Life Tonight - Elton John

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Sorry I Am - Ani DiFranco

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Home Sweet Home

My living room, at this time on sunny, breezy mornings, might just be my favorite place on Earth. There's a few of you readers who have been privileged enough to witness this, and, wouldn't you agree? The windows are south facing, and three out of four are unblocked by trees or buildings. The one on the side of the house faces a row of young maple trees on the border of the property.

In the morning, the sun begins rising from the east, and the light filters through the leaves of those saplings, turning them that lovely golden-green in some places, and deepening the color in others. The faces of the houses across the street are illuminated by this morning light, and the sky always seems to be a brilliant, brilliant blue. Traffic is never an issue on my side street at this time, and there are just enough houses in between mine and the main road to filter that noise away. So, it's often very quiet, only the breeze and the rare footfalls of an occasional pedestrian heading up the road to the bus stop. Sometimes, Mrs. Kelly will be out walking her little dog.

But, I can sit on my couch, coffee at my side, and feel the breeze softly waft from behind the drapes, and watch the sunlight grow ever brighter and cast funky patterns through the leaves of the maples, and feel like this house is situated somewhere way more enticing and relaxing than South Norwood. Sometimes, I'll step out onto my small front porch to grab the paper on Sunday, and it reminds me of summer mornings on Cape Cod. It has that same freshness.

Those of you who talked to me frequently during the dissolution of my last relationship will remember how much I lamented about potentially losing this apartment, and how I would not give it up to him. Don't you understand that a little better now?

New Obsession

This website. Or perhaps what I am reminded of in this entry...

Shameless

Ani DiFranco

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Sunday Morning Coming Down

It's a glorious one, too. a reward for the weeks and weeks of rain and dreariness we've been experiencing. The sky is a brilliant blue, with white clouds to inspire dreams, floating through the expanse. The street is quiet, the air is so fresh, it reminds me of being near the ocean. There's nothing to rush out and do today, so I'm still in my pj's, coffee at my side, and finding so many wonderful things to read this morning, I'm going to share them with you. I haven't done a link round-up in a long time; for a while, it was this blog's Sunday morning content, but I've fallen away from that. Maybe I just feel like sharing what moves me more these days.

So, to begin...

...although I in no way regret my concert choice for this Saturday night (Ani vs. Wilco and Ani won), this article with Wilco front man Jeff Tweedy certainly makes me eager to find a date to see them soon.

From Hullaballo, an impressive list of rock movie musicals. What made you happy it made the cut? Which ones would you have added/subtracted?

A profile on my all time favorite Sox player, Tim Wakefield. He's having a magnificent season this year, and I couldn't be more thrilled.

Mary Oliver has long been one of my favorite poets. She writes with a language that is so vivid, and economical, and emotional all at once. I met her once; I have an autographed quote of hers, about the role of a poet in the modern world, framed in my bedroom. This article about Provincetown, the natural world that appears in her poetry, makes me want to jump in the car with a notebook, and a pen, and a collection of her works, and sit in the woods she has shown so much of to me over the years.

Finally, some music to entertain you while you read along. Hoping your Sunday morning is coming down as gloriously as mine.



Sunday Morning Coming Down - Johnny Cash and Kris Kristofferson

The Fireworks Are Exploding Over Little Eden Tonight...

No rain forecast for the parade this year, and, as hoped, I'm marching in a very different outfit this year. As fun as pirate wenchery was, marching with town government this year is the culmination of a strange road. 5:45, the parade begins in SoNo, then winds its way up Washington Street to the center of town. Hope to see you all there!!

Marching in the parade is the only reason I didn't hop in my car at 4:00 yesterday afternoon and drive like a maniac to Red Bank, NJ, in time to actually see said fireworks explode over Little Eden. Not a good afternoon, but it's all better now.

Play safe! Happy Fourth of July!!

4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy) - Bruce Springsteen

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Sat Out On The Hood With A Couple Of Warm Beers

Independence Day - Ani DiFranco

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Mexican Kids are Shooting Fireworks Below

Fourth of July - X

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We All Go Looking For Paradise, Then We Go Back Home

More pre-game.

4th of July - Ani DiFranco

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Pretty As Can Be, Sitting In the Front Seat

Thanks to The Full-Time Dreamers for introducing me to this one. K8, you rocked it!

Get your holiday weekend started off with a twangy little jam!

Fourth of July - Shooter Jennings

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