Are you there, Mr. Brezney? It's me, Lauren

I do love him so. He is an astrologer/writer. The good kind of astrologer; possibly the only one, ever. He writes Free Will Astrology. It is lyrical and poetic while being insightful yet leaving out the new age hippie dip that often accompanies any mention of the zodiac. My horoscope for this week:

You've arrived at a delicate yet boisterous turning point when one-of-a-kind opportunities are budding. I'm going to give you seven phrases that I think capture the essence of this pregnant moment:
1. wise innocence;
2. primal elegance;
3. raw holiness;
4. electrifying poise;
5. curative teasing;
6. rigorous play;
7 volcanic tenderness.
To maximize your ability to capitalize on the transformations that are available, I suggest you seek out and cultivate these seemingly paradoxical states of being.

Be still, my beating heart!

olefactory anticipation

After years of faithful subscribing to BUST magazine, I have seen advertisements for Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab for ages. It wasn't until Thanksgiving Day, while making my sweet potato casserole, that it occurred to me that I should look them up. While adding the prescribed spices to the mix, I reached for my secret ingredient, cardamom. Cardamom must be the most intoxicating scent ever created. It is sweet and spicy, yet lightly pungent. It is heavenly in foods and goes well with anything with cinnamon. I like to think of cardamom as cinnamon's unpopular and intelligent cousin that doesn't realize how awesome she really is. Upon opening the jar, I wanted to smell like it all the time. So, I opened up the BPAL website and fell in love.

Let me preface the rest of this post by saying that I hate perfume. I think 99% of them smell like harsh chemicals. I can't imagine how people could get a whiff of it and think that they would want to smell like that all the time. Yuck. I have worked around too many people that do not realize how obnoxious and potent their chosen scent is. That being said, I have often wanted to have a smell of my own. A brand, if you will. Nothing sends me instantly back to a different time and place teaming with memories like a familiar, forgotten smell. I once was hugged after a day in the sun and the person told me I, "smelled great, like the beach and sweaty Lauren." Since that day, I've worn Hawaiian Tropic sunscreen, thinking of that comment each time I lather it on. So, with cardamom in mind, I went in search of my own smell.

The BPAL website is interesting. There all sorts of different groups of scents to choose from. Ones inspired by dragons, deadly sins, Egypt, whorehouses and the like. I quickly became overwhelmed by all the choices and decided to search for potions containing cardamom. I was in heaven. The descriptions of the blends are as sensual as the potions themselves. After about an hour of searching, I narrowed the field to six sweet scents:

BORDELLO: A decadent, deep perfume, lusty and luxuriant. The scent evokes images of velvet-lined Old West cathouses, tightly laced corsets, rustling petticoats and coquettish snarls of pleasure. Bawdy plum with amaretto, burgundy wine and black currant.

ENVY: Part of the Sin and Salvation inspired group. Green herbs slithering through mint, lime and lavender.

HYMN: Also part of the Sin and Salvation group. A paean to true holiness, spiritual purity, and sacred enlightenment. Based on an incense blend sacred to the Virgin Mary: perfect rose absolute and Palestinian Lily of the Valley with olibanum, labdanum, frankincense and myrrh.

PANNYCHIS: An attendant of the Goddess Venus. She presides over nocturnal pleasure, nighttime festivities, and all the joy and delight that can be found in the darkness. In later ages, it became the name of the all-night festival that closed the Eleusinian Mysteries. Night-blooming jasmine, moonflower, cardamom, sandalwood, black currant, ylang ylang, frankincense and lily.

VICE: More Sin & Salvation. Voluptuous and indulgent! A deep chocolate scent, with black cherry and orange blossom.

EVE: The spirit of temptation, the essence of lost innocence. Apple blossom, rose, ylang ylang and golden honey.

Once you find a scent that entices, there are forums for each potion. There are reviews that are luscious and tantalizing. Mentions of fore notes and after notes, how they smell in the bottle, wet and dry. Descriptions of the feeling each potion evokes, such as,
"This makes me feel ultra girly, soft, maybe even a bit vulnerable. Feel like I should be wearing a pink dress with frills. Over the past hour of wear i have to admit it makes me feel a lil dreamy, and I have the sudden urge to watch Molly Ringwald movies."

Waiting for a package to arrive is always exciting, but this one, more so. I ordered my vials of goodness on Black Friday. The BPAL site says that it takes 14-21 days to receive your potions, as they are all hand blended upon order to ensure their freshness. I find myself giddy to check the mailbox each afternoon, hoping for a package that contains the new smell of me. The anticipation is killing me.

beginning of greatness

After a November 1st post on Facebook about having a great day, my friend pointed out that I posted it on the first day of November. I hoped that the first day of the month was an indication of the rest of the month. It was. November was an excellent month. One of the best of my life. (I feel guilty saying that. After Denali was born, those were life changing and amazing months. However, I haven’t had to be up at all hours of the night, change diapers, or adjust to having to be responsible for a little new life.) December is my favorite month. My birthday, winter break from school, the culmination of another year and circle around the sun. It snows for the first time. My sister comes to town and I get to be with family and friends. Solstice brings more light each day. Things start getting brighter in December. It occurred to me last night that today was the first day of the month and that I needed to make it a really positive day. I woke up late, fussed at Denali and had to rush to get out of the door on time, which was really ten minutes later than usual. In the car, I apologized to Denali and he was very sweet and told me that I didn’t need to apologize, he had already forgiven me. He is truly such a sweet little soul. We started over and He got out of the car in a happy mood. In the car, I was thinking about acts of service and how I can perform more. It struck me that my job is an act of service. I love my job. I work with great people, have relatively little stress and I get to laugh a lot. Five days a week, I am providing a service to others. I was reminded that I need to make sure that my service was provided with a cheerful heart. I walked into my office, to find a little trophy and Hershey Kisses on my desk. The trophy is the LHS Lifesaver Award. Teachers pass it onto another teacher each week and fill it with candy. The teacher that passed it on to me is always happy and always asks how you are doing. “How are you?” gets on my nerves. It is such an overused phrase and most times, it feels rote, without feeling. This teacher always asks and always means it. She always has a smile on her face. She recognized me for my commitment to recycling at school. Last year, I created The Green Team. It is a group of my students that are responsible for all of the recycling for the entire school. Every other day, we travel around the school emptying the recycling bins in each class. It has been a great success and the students are able to work on vocational skills. It has shown regular education students that their peers with disabilities can be contributing members of our community. We have students that range from high functioning to low functioning. The best part of it is students watching kids that they would otherwise think of as having no functional skills, pushing a trash can or emptying recycling into the Rosies. This little thing perked up what was already a bright day.

I'm a curvy girl, in a Barbie world

A friend recently asked me, "If you were walking down the street and saw yourself, would you want to get with you?" I quickly decided that I wouldn't be attracted to myself. She asked what would need to change in order to make me be attracted to myself. My go-to answer was to lose weight. It is such a life long habit of being unhappy with my body, it came as second nature. My brain snapped back and I realized that, for the first time, possibly ever, I am satisfied with my body. There were plenty of years where my body was great. Those years came before environmental feminism classes. Before growing, birthing and sustaining another life. Before I ever saw a real life Venus of Willendorf. Those were the days of stealing and reading my sister's Seventeen and YM. (Sassy shaped me too, but it still had thin models) Those were days before I was able to accept another standard of beauty. I have felt accepting of a standard of beauty for other women's bodies, but unable to do so with my own. I'm not sure what has caused this seemingly sudden appreciation and acceptance of my skin. No matter what the cause, it is a novel and thrilling feeling to look in the mirror and relish in the reflection. I am grateful for a healthy body, for all the little abilities that I take for granted, and for the cognitive ability to make decisions about what is best for my body.

First things first. My horoscope from Mr. Brezney for this week:
I think you can handle more hubbub and uproar than you realize. I also suspect you're capable of integrating more novelty, and at a faster rate, than the members of all the other signs of the zodiac. That's why I think you should consider interpreting what's happening in your life right now as "interesting adventures" instead of "disorienting chaos." The entire universe is set up to help you thrive on what non-Sagittarians might regard as stressful.

Novelty equals newness, yes? So I'm able to bring more new elements into my life this week. Bring it on. Some novelty is a welcome addition to my life. The past week has been exceptionally good. I got my new car which has shed a whole new era of hopefulness into my life. It is a lot nicer and newer that was hoping to get and in excellent condition. Life with friends has been phenomenal and extensive. My house is clean and I have taken care of business that I have been avoiding. I have been much more productive at work this week because I have been feeling better.

I have been working a spiritual program since July 2009. I can tell a big difference in my life, in my outlook and thinking. It burns me up that after the work that I have done, I still make mistakes. I realize that I need to go easy on myself, but I'm selfish. I want so much from the comparatively little work that I have done. While I have been try to improve consciously for a little over a year, I am working to undo 25 years of building a sense of control over things that I have no power over.

This all ties in with my general theme of impatience in the recent weeks. I want everything now. I wanted things to be settled between Darin and I. I didn't want to feel sad any more. I wanted to buy a house. I wanted to buy a new car. I wanted to be admitted to grad school. I wanted to figure out how to be a better person and once I figure it out, I don't want to make mistakes any more. I act like I am some kind of princess, entitled to everything I want, when I want it. It is such a lie and faulty thinking. Things have settled between Darin and I. I feel firm in where I stand in that situation. I have bought a new car. It is better than I expected to get. I have dropped out of the home buying program because I think that is one too many things to deal with right now. I am submitting my letters of recommendation for grad school this week. Things are falling into place. They are falling into such wonderful places, that I am still humbled and amazed at my life. All of this beauty and providence would probably still fallen into place as it has if I hadn't stressed and wanted to control so much. It is so dumb and childish.

I am in awe this cyclical pattern of lessons. Frustrated, but still in awe.

I looked up Khalil Gibran quotes today after seeing one as a wall post on FB. These seem pertinent to me for right now.

"Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars."

"Much of your pain is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self."

"Progress lies not in enhancing what is, but in advancing toward what will be."

"The lust for comfort, that stealthy thing that enters the house a guest, and then becomes a host, and then a master."

"Truth is a deep kindness that teaches us to be content in our everyday life and share with the people the same happiness."

" Your friend is your needs answered."

"Love is trembling happiness."

lady love

I have had a simply incredible evening. The Thriller Parade and Halloween Showcase was tonight. I was really looking forward to doing the dance of the Demented Toyz, and for Thriller in general. I get filled with a nearly indescribable joy on the 4th of July and other events where a large number of people gather downtown to have fun and dance. I love the energy of so many people in the streets giddy with anticipation of things to come. Thriller was no exception.

I felt off all day. Things felt weird. Things felt strained and awkward, in a relationship where they were formally fluid and familiar. Change is hard. I don't like being in uncharted waters. I like sticking to to roads I've traveled before. This new relationship is nothing I have ever had. I want it to fall into a category that I am familiar with, but I can't seem to find the category I want it to be placed in because that category doesn't exist yet. I cried several little cries today. I was excited about dancing, but still not so excited about being in a large group of people. When going out in groups of happy people the old phrase, "How are you doing?" comes up often. It is meant only as a routine greeting but when your are feeling low, every time someone asks you that question, it is hard not to tell them how sad or shitty you feel. especially if you are in the midst of laughing, happy people. Muttering the simple phrase, "I'm good, thanks." seems more than I can bear to say. I was happy to be with my friends but still feeling sad and sorry for myself. We did our demented dance and I didn't make a single mistake. It was great to perform and to wear a costume so not many people knew it was me. It felt relieving and refreshing to wear a mask and to hide behind that. I feel very grateful for finding a fitting artistic outlet.

After dancing and wrangling zombies, I had a the opportunity to hang out with friends, some new and some old. It was amazing and full of laughter. After walking into my apartment, I sat down on my couch and just felt so blown away and humbled by the amazing women in my life. Between old friends and new friends; maidens, mothers and crones; women that I would typically never have contact with outside of one special setting; all of the powerful women in my life. There is so much collective wisdom and experience between us. I am about to turn off the lights and I am so full of love and brimming with joy and gratitude from the beautiful lady spirits that i have been so blessed to have in my life. I feel so inspired by all of this that my mind is swimming with amazement. I have no doubt that I will quickly fall into a deep, restful sleep, full of the beautiful shining light that these ladies bring into my life.

Humbly and gratefully yours,
Lauren

Free Will Astrology, try again.

I sat down this morning before going to work, set the timer and meditated. I am awful at focusing, but I am doing much better at clearing my mind. I sat and listened for what I needed to hear. The thought that came to me was that the horoscope from last week was that I would rely upon something that had previously seemed vital for sustenance. I was confused about how that fit into this week's horoscope of diving into the darkness that is inside me, and inside all of us. I feel like I especially have some extra darkness to deal with right now. While meditating this morning, it occured to be that the sustenance horoscope was last week's, not this week's. Last week is over. That horoscope fit very well for last week, but I'm in a new week and this week, I have to sustain myself.

Like I mentioned previously, I typically do not take horoscopes seriously. The daily ones are a quack and I only read Rob Brezny's Free Will Astrology on occasion. It is simply a fun interpretation and entertaining to read, if nothing else. I am not sure what led me to check his website, but I am so glad I did. What was feeling like an overwhelmingly daunting chore is now seeming like so much more focused and direct and very doable. Today I am grateful for a good kick in the pants to git-her-done.

Free Will Astrology

The main reason I pick up an ACE magazine these days is to read the Free Will Astrology by Rob Brezney. While I find astrology quite fascinating I'm not a big fan of horoscopes. Too vague, too impersonal. But I do enjoy Mr. Brezney's interpretation of the celestial patterns. I randomly decided to check my horoscope on his website, something I have never done before. My last two horoscopes have very closely mimicked my emotions. I've put the most poignant parts in italics.

This week's horoscope:
Is the highest form of courage embodied in a soldier fighting during a war? Irish poet William Butler Yeats didn't think so. He said that entering into the abyss of one's deep self is equally daring. By my astrological reckoning, that will be the location of your greatest heroism in the days ahead. Your most illuminating and productive adventures will be the wrestling matches you have with the convulsive, beautiful darkness you find inside yourself. Halloween costume suggestion: a peaceful warrior.

"Nothing's going right in my life. I feel anxious and paranoid all the time. My relationships are a mess." In my line of work, people make confessions like that to me. My first response is usually something like this: "Do you habitually gobble junk food near bedtime, steal a paltry five hours of sleep per night, gulp two cups of coffee and no breakfast in the morning, then bolt to a workplace where you get no sunlight or exercise and sit in an uncomfortable chair?" They often reply, "You must be psychic! How did you know?!" My point is that many psychological troubles stem from our chronic failure to take good care of ourselves.

Last week's horoscope:
Scientists have discovered an exotic animal that feeds on the bones of dead whales lying on the ocean floor. Known informally as the bone-eating snot-flower worm, it looks like a frilly pink plume growing up out of sheer bone. Believe it or not, Sagittarius, you could take a cue from this creature in the coming weeks. It will be a favorable time for you to draw sustenance from the skeletal remains of big things that were once vital.

"The important thing," said French critic Charles Du Bos, "is to be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become."

Did he really mean at any moment? Like while we're in a convenience store buying a magazine? While we're lying in bed ready for sleep and reviewing the events of the day? While we're adrift in apathetic melancholy, watching too much TV and neglecting our friends? At any moment?! I say yes. At all times and in all places be ready to sacrifice what you are for what you could become.

Okay, so according to Rob I've got a lot of work to do. Delving into the darkness within, wrestling matches in order to be productive, taking better care of myself, and being willing to let go of the past and using the knowledge I've learned from the remains of what I used to think was vital to my life in order to become a better person tomorrow. Whew.

I am trying to sit with the negative emotions as they arise. Tonight I felt really lonely and like the train I was on was about to wreck. I rode my bike home crying only to come into my house and realize my laundry was done. I washed some more clothes, put the clean ones away, attempted to organize the clothes pile which is my bedroom and worked for an hour on a very important project that I have avoided. I've gotten a lot done tonight in just two hours. And I haven't shed a single tear. I bought several supplements for myself last week to make up for the toll of stress and poor diet. I have exercised for the past three days. I've done this and I'm feeling up for the task at hand.

Mr. Brezney, I'm working on it. If nothing else, I am feeling hopeful about the changes to come.

limitations

While laying in bed the other night, it occurred to me that I was trying to put confines on our relationship. I am a bit of a control freak and it feels so much better to have everything in its place and a place for everything. I want to know where things stand. I like to mentally put things in boxes and have a set space for them. I want things to be neat and tidy and settled. I have felt (but have been fooling myself) that my life was fitting into my box of expectations in the past. Now it is spread all over, dripping and staining the fabric which is my life. I don't have a way to absorb all of the spill and it just keeps getting bigger and more far reaching. The spill is starting to bleed over into other aspects of my life that typically would feel manageable, but now they are feeling stained as well. Having this spill and not knowing how much longer there will be a leak, if it will be easy to wash out, and what is going to happen to my piece of fabric. I want to put this all in the washing machine, then the dryer and then neatly fold the fabric up and put it safely away in a drawer. I don't think that is going to happen any time soon.

I have been really lazy with emotions lately, especially the hard ones. There are things I can do that make me feel good and safe and comfortable again. Why stop that when those feeling are so strong? Why cease doing those things, only to face emotions that feel awful? (This makes it sound like I am on drugs or drinking. Not the case.) I'm in a spiritual program and I am in the process of making amends to people that I have harmed. this sounds a lot easier than it really is, and not just the act of apologizing. There is preparation and figuring out the ways I have caused someone harm. This really is not fun at all, because I've started to see all of the harm that I have caused in relationships where I have previously blamed others. I am actually looking forward to making the amends, just to get them over with and to move onto better relationships. I'm not being as lazy with that as I am with other things, which is a good thing.

On another note, I am so grateful for the first day of my lady cycle. Not because it means I'm not pregnant (which I am grateful for), but because it means that I am not crazy. The days leading up to it are absolutely nuts. I am your typical girl that cries over everything that has ever gone wrong in the history of the world. Sobbing over hurt feelings from years ago, then onto an animal I saw that had been run over. When Darin would try to make me laugh, I would just cry harder. I pity anyone who has ever dealt with me like that. It is absolute insanity. Thus, when I start, I am incredibly happy to be back on the road to sanity, even if I will only stay on that road for another month before taking the exit to Crazytown. Sometimes I feel like I don't just go there, but that I built the place by hand.

For today, I am grateful that I am able to walk and bike to get to where I need to go, for Halloween costumes that aren't quite finished, daily reminders, water, dancing, hoodies, and the artwork that is waiting to be hung up in my apartment so it will become even more of my own personal space.

nana grizol - tamborine n thyme [2/11]

I have been enjoying one particular song lately. I have always liked it a lot, but it has only recently reflected my situation. The song is Tamoborine and Thyme by Nana Grizol. I really like this band a whole lot. When I was in The Iron Mikes, the Rough Customers precursor band, we got to play with them. Here it is:

painting complete

When I first wrote about Darin and I separating, I ended the post saying that we were taking a break from painting a masterpiece. Well, the painting is complete. We both remain committed to our family and to co parenting, but are also committing to ourselves as individuals. I have been in a long term relationship since I was 16, with the exception of six weeks in between the two relationships. I have never been an adult by myself and I am already enjoying my freedom and independence. I am so grateful that I am able to support Denali all by myself. While I miss Denali on the nights I don't have him, I am able to clean the house, get the laundry done, exercise and see my friends. In doing this, the nights that I do have Denali, it is 100% devoted to him. We have created a library night and have been reading about an hour a day. We make the best of the time that he is here, without me having the distractions of housework. I am loving my home and making it my own space.

Last night, Darin and I were packing up things from the altar that was in our bedroom, taking down the pictures of us together. Seeing documentation of happy times together was really sad and nostalgic. I cried a lot last night, wondering where things went wrong. I hate looking back on things with regret, because things are exactly as they are supposed to be. But still, I can see how much hurt I have caused him and inflicted on our relationship. That is hard. I put all the pictures of us in a drawer with letters and cards that he had given me, pictures that Denali drew and other special stuff. I plan on finding a nice box to put the pictures in and saving them for Denali. I cried last night without trying to hold it in. It felt good to be able to weep and get it out and sit with that emotion, even though it sucked a whole lot.

Regardless of this sadness and nostalgia, there are so many phenomenal things happening in my life right now. I am taking a dance class for the first time since high school. I am learning the dance of the demented toys. We will be performing at the Halloween Showcase downtown after the Thriller performance. Thinking of costuming is really exciting. I am finding accoutrements to put together my Willy Wonka costume. I have my first counseling session with REACH tonight, one step closer to owning my own home. I have been doing more fire performances. Playing with fire is handling a dangerous element. It is easy to burn away the bad stuff and feel the adrenaline rush while performing. I really enjoy performing and it is an aspect of my life that has been ignored for years. Through March Madness Marching Band, fire performances and now this new dancing, I am having a very enjoyable time becoming something that is outside of my daily routine and dress code. I have a great home that is my own personal sacred space. I have the sweetest boy in the world, one who can now read about 30 words and say lots of stuff in Spanish. yesterday, he went to ask me a question and accidentally said it is Spanish. I have been blessed to borrow my parents nice car while I look for another. I am buying a blue Toyota 4Runner. It is big enough to haul things (which I do a lot) and is sturdy enough to be safe in case of an accident. It is in my price range, below the maximum amount that I am able to spend. Life is working itself out well and I am grateful with that. I am trying to sit and embrace my emotions and honor that they are the work I need to do to grow and improve. They are what is going to get me to be a better Lauren.

Life is so beautiful, even when it hurts.

TMI

If you are reading this, I'm making the assumption that you know me. You know I don't have much of a filter. I have a hard time deciding what is too much information. I feel like my life is full of dichotomies right now. Looking back through the blog, I have over used the phrase, "Part of me feels like..., while another part of me feels..." This statement sums up my life right now. The dichotomy that comes to mind this morning is my filter, or lack thereof. I have tried to be good about not talking a lot about how I am feeling to many people, keeping it to my very close friends. I guess I have shared it on here, too. Yikes. I realize that it is important to express myself and not hold it all inside. I don't feel like I am doing that, just that not everyone and their brother wants to hear about the current state of my life. I can't blame them. I had two friends over last night. We sat and talked and I dominated the conversation with my stuff. I felt ridiculous. I needed to stop talking and I had a hard time doing so.

So here is the dichotomy of the hour. I feel that it is imperative that people be honest and open about their experiences. For years, I have equated silence with shame. Now I am realizing that I can keep things to myself without feeling shame. There are very few things that I feel regret or shame about. Even the things that I am entirely accepting of, they don't need to be told to anyone that will listen. Sometimes I just need to shut my mouth. However, I have had numerous situations where I told too much, only to have someone relate their own experience that they typically would not have opened up about. Where do I draw that line of shutting up and relating my experiences? I'm working on figuring that out.

It's all good, even when it ain't

It's all good right now! I feel great. Darin and I are getting along swimmingly. Denali and I have spent great quality time together this week. I like that on the days when he is with Darin, I can clean and do laundry. The other night I made a huge pot of chili. The next day when he came, the house was clean, the laundry was done and it took five minutes to heat up dinner. All of the other time was 100% Denali time. He has been really happy and just a joy to be around. He has started reading and I am so impressed that it just happened all of a sudden. He loves doing his homework, loves reading and adores school. My house is nearly finished and unpacked. It feels like home and Denali likes it. He said he was glad that this was his new house. Life is exceptionally good.

In the past year, Life has felt equal parts hopeful and really scary. Hopefulness is really prevailing. My life is a blank slate. The possibilities abound. Allowing myself to step back, relinquish control and see where it goes is an exceptionally freeing sensation. Once again this is me: humble, grateful and in great anticipation of the things to come.

This is me being grateful

I won tickets yesterday at work to go the The Chieftains. Darin and I went and it was fantastic. The best part was easily the Haitian Harmony. (Technically, they are called the Alltech Haitian Harmony, but I really don't like to brand children with the name of a nutriceutical/beer company, but I digress.)These kids are probably 5-9 years old. These kids have come from worst case scenario situations to standing in front of hundreds of people, wearing nice clean clothes. Their bellies are fed regularly and I'm sure their health care needs have been met. I can't even fathom the shock that they have experienced. From one end of the spectrum to the other. I can't help but wonder what will happen to these kids once this tour is over. Will they go back to Haiti and live there, dreaming of the lives they once had? Will they stay here, with new families, while their parents back in Haiti have a piece of their heart missing, while still trying to feed their other children? I would hate to think that they would be forgotten about, but haven't all the other kids, and people in general, in Haiti been forgotten? I have gotten so wrapped up in my personal drama. I'm forgetting to pay attention all the good stuff. All of my basic needs are met. All of my non-basic needs are met. My kids are provided with opportunities and luxuries that so many kids, even in Lexington, are not afforded. I need to shut up with all of my 'woe is me' spiel. If I start up with it, please give me a kick in the pants.

Okay. Now onto better things. I get to hang with my good buddy, Mr. Mick Jeffries, on Thursday morning on his radio show, Trivial Thursdays. It is always a good time to chill and have awkward conversations with him while an unknown number of people listen. Later, people will ask me about something I said on-air, and I am briefly confused at how they knew about the conversation Mick and I had. So, please, listen to me be awkward, Thursday 7-9am on WRFL 88.1, or stream it online at wrfl.fm.

"I program my home computer.
Beam myself into the future."

This is me being a Debbie Downer

I am nearly moved into my new house. It is a four-plex, so technically it is an apartment, but I like the word house better. It has hardwood floors and a small, but cute kitchen. It has central heat and AC! I won't have to be cold all winter! Mikey T is my across the hall neighbor, so I get to see him and all of his friends. All of my stuff is there, with the exception of beds, chest of drawers, couch, two bookshelves and a recliner. Why I waited to bring all of that over last, I don't know. My landlord neglected to tell me that I needed to have the gas turned on. I could live there right now, but it would be so much nicer if I had a stove, heat and hot water. I also know that it has taken me a full week to get in there because it is a big change. I'm going to be sleeping alone, waking up alone, doing everything alone. It is scary. I also won't have Nali everyday and I don't want that to end. He has been crawling into bed with us a lot recently. Typically I would walk him back to his bed, but I can't bring myself to do it now. I want him to be able to enjoy some of the (possibly?)last nights of Mom & Dad together time. This makes me super sad. He has had a hard time, but has been resilient in a lot of ways as well. Darin has been babysitting a new little girl and Denali hasn't gotten as much attention as he typically would. Akira and Mahala want to play with the new girl, because she is cute and sweet and is not their little brother. I feel like he has been left out by himself in the time when he needs extra attention the most. This makes me super sad as well. I only want to give him the absolute best and part of me feels like not being able to make our marriage work is not giving him the best life possible. I know this is flawed thinking, and it is not a judgement I hold others to. But I am my own worst critic and I will probably always feel like I could have done just one more thing that would have made things work better. Things with Darin have been 60% sweet and loving lately. The other 40% is no fun at all. I feel fearful and anxious. I don't want to be replaced immediately and I don't want him to be so angry with me. I need to work on letting go of my resentments as well. I'm not sure where this is going, and I think I have said too much. Basically, I am equal parts sad and hopeful. Life is going to get better. I am going to continue my spiritual work and allow myself time to be alone to recognize myself. I am excited about my apartment. It already looks good and it is nice to put things anywhere that I want them and clean up after myself and Denali. I am also sad that a chapter of my life is closing. It was a really good chapter but the storyline was losing steam. I just don't want the story to have a bad ending.

I have complete faith that the 50:50 ratio of hopeful/sad will eventually become 60:40 and then 80:20 and so on. I just want to fast forward to the 80:20 time. I am being slothful and trying to avoid hard work. I wish this could have happened in the early spring. I am not looking forward to the darkest time of the year being a time of sadness. My friend, Mary, a wise old crone of a lady, pointed out to me that my birthday, December 21st, while being the darkest day of the year, after that, there is more and more light each day. There are only 78 more days until the light starts returning.

Dia de los Muertos, part 1

Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays. I have never been good with costumes. I always come up with something half hearted at the last minute. This year, I have started early. I am going to be Willy Wonka for Halloween. I love anything with Johnny Depp as a weirdo. Charlie and the Chocolate factory was a favorite when I was younger. There are only two movies that I have ever seen on the first day they come out. The new C&tCF is one. At first, I thought WW was too Wacko Jacko. Now, I absolutely love it. My favorite part is when WW opens his factory for the first time. Once the kids are all inside the gates, the weird plastic kids started the singing and dancing. Then there is a spark and all of the plastic dolls start melting and the music slows down. Brilliant!

So, I have found a cheap hat, ribbons and feathers to fashion an appropriate hat. I am ordering goggles. I've watched videos on YouTube on how to do WW makeup. I'm excited to find the rest of the stuff to go along with it. I'm going thrifting on Wednesday (half price day!) and costuming is high on my list of things to search for.

The orignial intention for this post, hince the title, was to be about celebrating the Day of the Dead. I'm going to finish that thought later.

providence/benevolence/amazement

In thinking of moving into my new space, I have been extremely overwhelmed by all of the little stuff that I will need to buy for my new home. BandAids, a new toothbrush for Denali, sponges, soap, etc, all readily available and inexpensive. I'm not sure why I chose to focus on this trivial stuff. I knew I would need new furniture and all sorts of other stuff, either for my house or to replace stuff I have taken from Darin's house. If you know me, you know I am frugal and a seasoned thrifter. I was confident that i would be able to find all of the things I needed at a thrift store, little by little. I had resigned myself to not have some things for a while. I was okay with that. However, there was a different plan for me. My best friend's dada moved out of his house and left behind a houseful of nice new things. From a nice La-Z-Boy recliner, dishes, sheets, a curling iron, lava lamp (for Denali's new bedroom. I'm trying to make it really exciting for him.), lamps, mirrors towels, a bookcase, a pie safe, etc. There was so much stuff. My van was pretty loaded down. Just when I thought the van was full, I was offered even more great (vintage!!!!!) stuff from another unoccupied house. My van is so loaded down right now. There is no room for anyone but the driver. While I have been giddy to sign the lease on my new apartment, now I have the added excitement of signing it so I can get all of this stuff out of my van. I have been humbled and amazed at the providence that has appeared before me. My sincerest thanks for my friends, family and the Creator for allowing me access to all of these things that will ease this huge transition for Denali and I.

Darin and I had decided to split up the vehicles. I would take the van and he would take th truck and we could switch them out if one of us needed the other vehicle. The truck started misbehaving as soon as we made this agreement. I drove the truck into the shop this morning. At lunch, our (honest, reliable and fantastic) mechanic, Leo, called to say, "Your truck is just tired." Big Sexy, out truck, is leaking coolant into the cylinders. In other words, the engine is on its way out. Darin and I were trying to brainstorm how we were going to figure out cars until we could decide what to do next, When my dad called. My parents are going out of town for two weeks to Ireland. He offered for me to drive their car while they are gone. It is all working out just fine and I'm amazed. I shouldn't be. I should have complete faith that I will be put exactly where I am supposed to be, when I am supposed to be there. I just can't believe how quickly and thoroughly I am taken care of.

So, In closing, consider me humbled and with a heart full of gratitude.

a record of the love

While I have never, ever doubted Darin's love for me, he proved it again today. If you know much about Darin, you know he is a bit fanatical about music, especially vinyl records. He has about 5,000 of them, meticulously organized in alphabetical order, then within each artist by chronological order. We have bought many of them together over the years and I was bummed to think of not having a record player or records of my own to play. I timidly asked him if I could have some of them, expecting him to not handle it well. He was so willing and encouraged me to take what I wanted. There were a few that he cringed at, but was so gracious about it. I am still somewhat shocked that I now have a personal record collection of about 40 albums, and good ones at that. I also have 400G of music on a hard drive. I feel bad that I underestimated him, and proud of him for being so generous. Talking about splitting all of our stuff up has been so easy. I am grateful for that.

I am still looking for a place to rent on a short term basis. I am in the REACH program, which helps low to moderate income families buy their first home. After completing the minimum of three counseling sessions and taking a home buying class, the federal government gives you $15,000 towards a down payment and covers your closing costs. I spoke with my counselor and I am able to only attend the three sessions and she said I would be finished by Thanksgiving! I'm going to take my sweet time to buy a house, and I won't start looking until the holidays are over, so a 4-6 month lease looks perfect. Not too many people are looking for a short term tenant though. I have complete faith that the right thing will come to me, no matter what I envision the right thing to be.

This might be the shortest post in the history of this blog.

LOVEVOLUTION

This is Darin. Most of you know him. I love him. I have for the past 7.5 years. In that time, I have envisioned us being old, sitting on a front porch, probably out in the country somewhere. We would be drinking Reed's Ginger Brew, the kind sweetened with honey, not sugar. There would be music on in the background, and it would definitely be coming from a record player and there is a very good chance it would be His Name Is Alive. In my mind, he would be boisterously talking, saying something harmlessly offensive, and saying it in a Brooklyn accent. I would be playfully slapping his wrist, chiding him using the few Yiddish words that I know. I have thought of this silly scenario often. Now I am wondering if it will happen.

Relationships are hard. All of them. There is not a single one that is easy. For the first 5 years of us, we floated along as effortless as possible. Things were so good. There was 99% good and 1% not so good. Now, two and a half years later, I am wondering what happened to the effortlessness. I am wondering what happened to us. We got off track somewhere. We haven't been able to get back on again. Maybe our wheels are bent, or the track has crumbled. Either way, despite our best efforts, we just can't connect the track and the wheels anymore. We have fallen into ruts and we can't gain enough traction to get out. I drove by Darin's old house on Clay Avenue tonight. We shared our first kiss on the front porch steps there on March 25, 2003. I cried, remembering how happy and easy things were back then. How in love we were. I wish we could go back to that time and start over. We could create new patterns and start our relationship off knowing what we know now. Our hearts would be overflowing with desire to be with each other. Now our tanks are on empty.

After months of talking, I decided this week to take action and move out of our house. About 50% of me is heartbroken, sad that something I want so badly is slipping through my hands. I want to grow old with him. I want to raise our family together. The other 50% of me is really hopeful. I hate to admit this. I am excited to have time away from Darin, so we can get out of each other's hair for a bit. I am excited to be alone. I moved from my parent's house into Darin's house. We have always lived with a housemate. I have purposely surrounded myself with other people so I could avoid being alone. Now, I need to be alone. I am looking forward to it. I have a feeling that it will really suck once I get there, but it is a requirement for becoming Grown-up Lauren.

I have made a lot of mistakes in the past 7.5 years. Part of me thinks I should stay and try to keep working on things. Trying the same thing over and over expecting different results is insanity, though. I wish I could blame this all on Darin. I could write out a mile long list of things he has done wrong. I would feel justified and haughty and still think I was the better person for being above all the stuff he does. If he sat down and wrote out a list of things I have done wrong, I know it would be longer than the list I made. That might be the hardest part, looking back and realizing all the stupid and selfish things I have done. Every time I lashed out when he pointed out something I could improve. Each time I played on the computer when I could have had a conversation with him. Every time I raised my voice. Each time I criticized or found fault in him before examining my actions. Recognizing that our decline is not just his fault, but mine too. Knowing that because of my character defects I won't be able to see Denali everyday. This is the most heart wrenching part of the whole situation. I have been with Nali nearly everyday of his whole Life. I have never spent more than three days away from him in 5.5 years. Only seeing him every other day, I'm not sure how I can do it. Because of the mistakes I've made, I only get to spend 50% of the time with him. He is the love of my life. He has such a sweet bright light inside of him and he brings so much joy to my life. My only wish is for him to have the best possible life, surrounded by people that love him. I wish that for Darin, too.

Darin and I are considering this a separation. I have no vision or expectations of what will happen with us.

I am certain that everything will be okay. I haven't found a new home yet. I'm looking for a 2 bedroom, preferably in Kenwick, Southland Drive or Nicholasville Road area. If you know of anything there please let me know.

When I started blogging, I wanted a place to document the really beautiful things in my life. Artists can work painstakingly for years on a single piece. When the artist finishes the piece, the art remains beautiful and influential. Darin and I are just two lazy artists that are taking a break from working on our masterpiece.

Note to myself

Daily affirmations have always seemed new agey and hippy dip to me. When I recieved a daily reminder book last year, I tried to read it every morning. after a few weeks, I stopped because I didn't feel like they had much to do with my life. Since I picked it up earlier this month, it has been a punch in the gut each morning, reminding me how much I need to work I have to do, even if it just for today. What seems like it would be impossible to do for the rest of my life seems doable for 16 hours. Here are pieces that seemed especially relevant to me from the past few days:

"I may have big troubles but I can, if I will, make them less painful by turning my thoughts to happier things. I will not isolate myself in my problems. I will observe and enjoy the good and pleasant in the world around me."

"Let me not deprive myself the many little joys that are mine for the taking."

"Dwelling on our troubles only shuts out a world that is waiting to be enjoyed. Nothing has the real power to deprive us of the delights to be found in many daily experiences- even a simple household task, well done. For those of us who are fortunate enough to have young lives in our care, we can forget our troubles in devoting loving attention to them and their developement."

In going with the (attempted) theme of this blog, to share the beautiful things in my life, I thought it was appropriate to include some of my favorite things.

Passion flowers. (botanical spaceships)


My favorite ice cream


Stargazer lillies

I dreamed another dream

At the end of my last post, I hoped that I would dream a dream of remembrance, and I did. I went to high school with a guy named Tevis Shaw. He was a year younger than I was. We shared the same circle of friends and usually shared the same lunch table, but never really became friends. Tevis died a few years ago after falling in the Gorge during the night. He had gotten up to use the bathroom and fell to his death. His friends found him the next morning. While I did not know Tevis well, I was friends with his good friends, including the two that had the heartbreaking experience of finding their best friend. Fast forward a year or two. It is MLKJr. day and I took my kids to the Explorium to celebrate. We listened to a lesson given by a woman who seemed familiar. I made the connection that this was Tevis's mother. I saw her several more times and I had always wanted to speak to her and express my condolences for her loss. I didn't do it because I was afraid it would be another reminder (Like she had ever forgotten?) of the child she had lost. I was at a party this Spring Equinox and saw her there. I decided I should intoduce myself and finally give her the long overdue condolences she deserved. I introduced myself and we spoke about Tevis. I told her how I had wanted to say something for years, but I didn't want to upset her. She was so glad I had said something. One of the things, she told me, was that one fear of parents that have experienced this kind of loss, is that people will forget about their child. I felt very connected to her that night. Not long after that, she arrived at a ladies dinner that my best friend hosted. I was so estactic to see her there. As the conversation between all the ladies progressed, the topic turned to children and of their passing. Kathleen told us about Tevis and his life. I was sitting next to her and I held her hand the entire time. It was heartbreaking to hear her sadness and the pain she has that will never subside. Through Katherine, I feel like I have gotten to know Tevis better in the brief time I have known her than in the years I knew him.

Fast forward to Friday night. I have had weird dreams recently. In my dream, I was in high school again and Tevis and I were dating. I had told my parents that I was going to the mall with Tevis, but instead we went back to his house where I spent the night. I knew my parents were going to be furious with me for lying. We sat in Tevis's room and listened to music. I can't remember the band, but I want to say it was either Joanna Newsome, Arcade Fire or Neutral Milk Hotel. At that point, I had never heard any of this music. I was blown away by it, loving it instantly. After listening to music, we decided to play on a Slip-n-Slide in his back yard. His house was the bright pink house that sits on the corner of Wilson Downing and Landsdowne Drive. Instead of that location, it was right off New Circle Road by Richmond Road. The house had a big backyard that went very far back. The Slip-n-Slide was an adult version, very very long. We slipped and slid for hours in the sun. When we were finished, I pulled a towel over the front of me and ran into the house to change. On my way in, soaking wet, Katherine said hello and told me she was glad I was there. I thought, "What an awesome lady to have for a boyfriend's mom." End of dream. When I woke up at 7:30, I knew I had to call Katherine to tell her about the dream. Coincidentally, she was on her way to the Gorge for her annual memorial hike for Tevis. What serendipitous timing.

I'm not sure what this dream means, but I am glad I had it. If you have read much of this blog, you can tell that I really enjoy dreams where I am visited by friends on the other side. This was no exception. I feel very honored to be visited while I'm sleeping. Thanks Tevis for making an appearance. Please come back again.

let's try this again

It seems that the link the the How To Be Alone video didn't work. It is such a beautiful moveie, that I really want to get it right.

How To Be Alone

I dreamed a dream

I have had very bizarre dreams this past week. Most of my dreams are absolutely crazy. There is no way to derive any meaning from them. This week's dreams have been very pogniant and with meaning so obvious, it slapped me in the face. The first dream was that my mom and I had gone shopping at Kohls. They were giving away promotional puppies. The puppies came in cardboard crates. We took one and put the crate in the trunk with our shopping bags. The next day, we realized that we had left the puppy in the trunk. In the dream, it had been very hot and we knew there was no way the puppy could have survived in the heat. We were horrified at the fact that we had forgotten this puppy and at the prospect of having to go get the dead puppy from the trunk.

I had two dreams the next night. The first was that I was at a Target, but it was more like an industrial building. There was a clearance rack up on a pedestal. The rack was inside a cage and I had to crawl up through a small opening in the fencing to get to the clothes. The rack was full of spectacular costumes. The one outfit in particular that stands out is a short, sequined dress with a flaired waist that looked like something a cowgirl that does tricks on top of a horse would wear. Everything on the rack was in my size and marked down to $1.25. I was grabbing everything as fast as I could. There was another girl that came into the cage and told me to leave something for other people to buy. I told her that I had gotten there first and that if she wanted the clothes, then she should start grabbing some herself. End of dream.

The dress was like this, but shorter, with a flaired waist with taffeta and with way more sequins. Oh, and it was not an apron.


Dream number two began with me walking to Krogers. On Park Avenue, I turned the corner to find a really great midcenetury modern couch. It was unlike anything I have ever seen. It was a very large square, about 6x6'. One side had a back that could sit up to create a recliner. It was rusty red in color and in great shape. I got out my cell phone to call Akira so she could walk down the street and sit with the couch so I could go get the truck to take it home. I smelled the couch and it smelled like a Jewish home.(Whatever that means. Like Matzo balls?) The smell made me feel very at home and secure. End of Dream two. I woke up very dissapointed that these fabulous clothes and couch were not mine. I have had lots of dreams where I find excellent vintage things and buy them, only to wake up empty handed and sad.


The couch was like this, but red and better. Dream couch was not a sectional.

Last night I had two more significant dreams. The first was that we went back and visited our old house on Southview Drive. This house was nothing exceptional. It was a nice house, right next door to the house where Denali was born. When I think of that house, the first memory that comes to my mind is a potty training Denali sans diaper on the wooden floors, trying to use Darin's record rack to pull himself up. I got on a big bread making kick while I lived there. Life was really happy while we were there. In the dream, we went back to visit. I felt really sad that other people were living there. It bothered me that they lived there, yet they knew nothing of the significance of the house. That it had housed our family for a year. That Denali potty trained there and Mahala learned to read in that house. Where the basement flooded and ruined a bunch of stuff that we should have gotten rid of already, with the exception of about 300 Grateful Dead bootleg tapes. They didn't know about the bread I made there, or the boxed wine that was in the fridge. They didn't know about my best friend's daughter and her magnetism towards falling down the steps. They didn't know anything about the role that those walls played in our family's history. End of dream one.

The second dream last night was that we had to move out of our current house so it could be fixed up. We thought that we would find a place to stay temporarily while they fixed the house. We came back to check on the progress and the entire house had been remodeled and painted. The ceiling had been opened up and there was a balcony looking down on the living room. The room was painted the same color that Akira, Mahala & Darin painted their bedroom yesterday. It was a completely different house! Our stuff was not on the walls and our furniture was gone. There were new people living in it. We were flabergasted. End of dream two.

So, between forgetting something really important, thinking I have found things I want that turn out to not be real and whatever the home dreams mean, I feel like there is big symbolism in these dreams. I have no idea what they mean. I feel certain that they do have some meaning. I'm trying not to project any meaning onto the dreams. Maybe tonight I will have dreams of rememberance, seeing things for what they are and being comfortable in my own space, no matter where that takes me.

Fourscore, all alone

It has been 20 days since I wrote and I have missed it greatly. I kept feeling guilty that I hadn't added anything, but I felt totally uninspired. Last night, I had an "AHA!" moment about my next writing subject. So, here goes:

I have always hated being alone. When I was a kid, I hated being home alone because I was afraid someone would break into our house. As an adult, I have always had a housemate, leaving less time to be alone. Facebook has offered me an out for times when I am alone, but don't want to feel alone.

Since last summer, I have been working on a program that is perfect for folks that want to change other people. While I'm sure everyone falls into this category, I have had years of practice and, in my mind, I am quite good at it. Which is a huge problem. So I'm (slowly, painfully, slowly) working on changing my desire to make people fit into a mold that I create for them. This program forces me to examine my issues and to break down my resentments with others to find the real cause of my frustration. For me, the root of my resentments for others is a fear of being messed up or unloveable. If someone on the street were to walk up to me and ask if I felt worthy of love, I would say yes. I feel like I am very loveable. *Crazy thoughts in italics* I'm great! I am perfect in every way, loving and kind in all my interactions, using impeccable communication skills and always doing my best. What's not to love about me? But what if people find out that I am not a very good stepmother? What if they saw Darin and I arguing and heard things I have said in that context? What if people could read my thoughts and see how judgemental I can be? If people knew all this stuff about me, no one would want to be around me and I would have no friends and no one would love me anymore. It sounds like a totally irrational thought, but I am fairly certain I am not the only one that harbors this fear. I am realizing that my dislike for being alone is tied directly to the fear of being unloveable. If I am alone, then that means that no one wants to spend time with me.

Lately, I have found myself wanting to be alone more. Not alone as in, 'Darin and the kids are gone,' but 'I can be by myself and find pleasure in being alone.' When I was in Louisville this summer, I walked around downtown in the middle of the night. I went to an art gallery by myself. It was a turning point for me and embracing my aloneness. I really enjoyed those few hours. This past weekend, our family had planned to go to a music festival in Berea. Darin had to work on Saturday, so I had planned for Denali and I to go down Friday night and Darin would come down Saturday night. Denali ended up staying with my parents Friday night, Which left me alone at a music festival for 24 hours. I had plenty of friends there, but it too felt like a significant step in being alone.

While these little things may seem insignificant, they are encouraging to me. I'm being pushed back into my shell. I am finding out that I can be alone and still be loved, and still love myself. I am finding aloneness to be a very beautiful thing.

In closing with the theme of beauitful aloneness, watch this.

manic panic

Today is the absolute last day before school starts for me to stay home. I had planned to work today to get ready, but I decided last night that I would stay home instead. I'm glad I did.

I'm feeling rather unhappy with my life today. I am a consumer, and I consume too much. I am very frugal and buy most things at thrift stores (usually on half price days, at that) and I have a general rule that I don't spend more than $10 on any article of clothing. I do shop to make myself feel better or when I am bored. I don't do it too often, maybe twice a month, but it really bothers me. It makes me feel like a spoiled American. I desire too many physical things.

The one thing I want the most right now is a house. I want to buy a house and decorate it. I want to buy a house that is clean to begin with, so I can keep it clean. Currently, we have outrageously cheap rent for a 5 bedroom home. The landlord has not raised the rent in over 30 years. It is a good house, full of good energy. Various friends have lived in our house for the past 20 years, filling it with art and love. All of the couples that have lived here are still together. Club Dub started in our laundry room. Two babies have entered this world in our dining room. We are allowed to make changes and paint in any way we want. The backyard is great, with a fire pit, a tire swing, clubhouse and our trampoline. But in exchange for all the good stuff, there are a lot of things that drive me crazy. If we don't run the dehumidifier, the laundry room starts smelling very musty. There aren't enough outlets in the house. One room only has one. The electrical stuff is all old. The bathtub freezes when it is cold, even if we leave the water running all night. The kitchen is small and impossible to clean. everything is impossible to clean. everything is jerryrigged in some fashion. There isn't a 90 degree angle in the whole house. I could go on for a while. This is our home and it is filled with our family and our love. We have it decorated with things we love. We have had more than one person say it is like a museum. I still haven't decided if that is a good thing.

Regardless of this, I want a house of my own. I want to fill it with nice pieces of furniture, ones that I have collected, not things that friends or family members are getting rid of. I have a few nice pieces of furniture that I really treasure. They have sentimental meaning and I want to have them in a nice, clean house. I have fantasized and looked at the Lexington Realtors website, drooling over pictures. My ideal house would be inside New Circle Road, possibly close to the Rosemont Graden area. It would be a 4 bedroom, so the girls could have their own rooms. In order to accommodate all of Darin's musical instruments, we would need a basement, garage, or spare bedroom. It would have lots of windows and a large kitchen, but no tile floors. I drop lots of things in the kitchen and if there were tile floors, everything kitchenware I own would be broken in a matter of months. The upstairs could be a special, secluded area that the girls could make into their own special space.

Lately my desire to purchase a house has been gaining momentum. I doubt we will anytime soon, but a girl can always dream.

Left and Leaving

My last post on grief went far longer than I had meant it to. It turned into a flow of conciousness, which was not what I had intended. Let me try again.

After Eric died, the first year was hard. I cried a lot. I was pissed at him for doing something so stupid. I went to his grave on the anniversary of his death. I planted mums that year, four of them. The red, orange and yellow looked great around his headstone, which had been inscribed with, "Beautiful Boy." After the first year of grieving, it got better. I continued to visit his grave every October 3rd. I brought a plant each year; roses, ivy, tulip bulbs. Typically, the only time I would feel sad about his death was on the anniversary. I would wake up crying on those days. I would cry like it had just happened. My body remembered this loss. The remainder of the year was fine. I thought about it, but I was very much at peace with the fact that we all will die when at the perfect moment. We go when we are supposed to, according to a higher power, and it never seems fair to the ones left behind. This past October was the tenth anniversary. I went, I planted, I cried. I felt better the following days. The night after my birthday, in December, I woke up from a dream. Eric and I were laughing together in the back of a van. His laugh was so clear and so happy. We were just sitting and cuddling and holding hands in a way that good friends can. It was so nice. I awoke and looked at the clock. I realized that it was a dream and that it was over. I felt sad that it was over because I was greatly enjoying the dream while it lasted. I fell back asleep and went on to have three more dreams with Eric. We were so happy. He was laughing!!! He was all grown up and tall and still had his red hair, but no acne. He was handsome and he was my friend again and we were hugging. It was all 100% platonic, but also with the intensity of seeing a lover that has been away for too long. I was just so excited to be with him, I just wanted to touch him to make sure he was real. In my dream, he was. I woke up from the fourth dream and I knew that was all the time I was allowed to spend with Eric.

Since those dreams, the wound that was left by his death has been ripped open. It hurts so much more now. I had gone 10 years without him. I had grown accustomed to the fact that I would never see him again. Now, I feel like I was teased. He came and showed me that he was happy now, which is very comforting. But I also feel cheated. He was in my hands, I could feel him again, only to be taken away. Again. I feel honored that he came back to visit me, that I got to have these four more interactions with him, happy ones at that. I know it is selfish to want more. I should be so grateful that I had these, which I am. But I want more. I don't want to have to wait ten more years to hear him laugh.

I have cried more for Eric since December than I did in the previous nine years. I cried at Denali's 5th birthday party. I cried because Eric would never get to know this sweet little soul that has been entrusted to me. When I was at The Forecastle Festival In Louisville a few weeks ago, The Flaming Lips played Do You Realize? I cried again for Eric, knowing that he would have been at shows like this. I googled his name today, doubting that anything would come up. Nothing did. This made me sad. There is no record online of him. In the nearly infinite amount of information available on the internet, there wasn't one little thing about him. I don't want him to be forgotten. As I write this, I am realizing that these dreams were presented to me as a means of ensuring that my memories of him stay fresh. If they had not occurred, I would not be sitting here crying over my computer ten and a half years later. I wouldn't have thought of him at Denali's birthday party. Without those dreams, I would not be writing this post about him. You would never have known about Joshua Eric Crusott.

I could keep writing about this for a long time. Someday I will. But for now, I am unsure of how to end this post. Grief is a funny thing.

Grief

I've had a hard time with this subject this year. I have talked with several people about this, so, if you have heard this before, I apologize. I process my feelings by talking. Darin calls it verbal diarrhea. This is why I keep talking about grief. I just can't figure it out. I can't wrap my little brain around the concept and its implications. So, here is my oft repeated story.

My good friend, Eric, hanged himself when we were 15. Eric and I had grown up in the same small church. I have a picture of Eric and I sitting on our mother's laps when we are about 6 months old, not too long after he was adopted. The church we attended met on Sunday morning, Sunday evening and Wednesday night, so we saw each other frequently. We also went to the same middle school. In middle school, both of began to rebel especially hard. We both did some really stupid stuff. (Ever tried smoking banana peels, grass clippings, peanut shells, etc, in an attempt to get high? Eric had.) Eric was always trying to come up with some way to get high off everyday items. He would pop any pill that was given to him. (remember folks, this is in middle school. We didn't have access to much.) On more than one occasion, he was given laxatives. He did nearly anything to get attention. He always wore Polo brand clothes, but not by choice. The only exception were two Grateful Dead shirts. I highly doubt he had ever actually heard The Dead, but the shirts were tie-dye and he knew it was stoner music. His sister needle pointed him a belt with dancing bears on it. They buried him in that belt.

I had sat next to Eric at church that Sunday night. We sat in the back row together. I would brood and write in my journal while he doodled and wrote perverted names and addresses on the cards left in the pews for visitors. By this time, I was a sophomore at Lafayette, while he was still a freshman at Dunbar, due to being held back in eighth grade. Nothing extraordinary happened during the church service. We hung out outside and watched the kids play. There was one little girl, Madie, that would only go to Eric. She wouldn't let anyone else touch her. He had her sitting on a low tree branch and was bouncing the branch around to make her giggle. Eric left with his parents and went to Krogers to buy lunch meat and cheese because he wanted to pack his lunch for school that week. He got home around eight. I'm not sure what happened in those next three hours. I was on the phone with a friend around 11:30. I was not supposed to be on the phone that late. I got a beep. It was a man from church wanting to talk to my dad. I knew something was amiss, as it was too late for him to be calling. Either something bad had happened or someone wanted to be baptized. My dad got off the phone and said that Eric had tried to hang himself and that they were headed to the hospital. I laughed and thought of what a dumb ass he was to try to get attention that way. I rolled my eyes and went to bed without giving it another thought.

When I woke up in the morning, I found my mom crying in the kitchen. She told me that Eric had died. I know I started crying right away, but was still in shock. I was able to get myself dressed and ready for school. Once I got to school, I went to my favorite teacher, Mrs. Foose, and told her what had happened. She gave me a hug and I knew that it really sucked, but didn't cry. During lunch, I told my friends in drumline that committing suicide was about the dumbest thing you could ever do. I was more angry than sad at this point. His visitation was on Wednesday night. I arrived to find my good friend, Cole, outside smoking. I ran up to him and we shared what is easily one of the best hugs of my life. The hug swallowed me whole and I could feel the same grief I was feeling inside Cole, too. It was so powerful and full of love. They had an open casket visitation. As all dead people colored with make-up and pumped full of preservatives do, he looked orange and fake. They were able to pull his collared shirt up high enough to cover the marks on his neck. His casket was chock full of knick knacks, cigarettes, joints, notes, you name it, that his peers wanted him to have. I put in my a ball chain necklace with a Grateful Dead charm in with his body.

The next day, at his funeral, there were so many people from Dunbar there that Cole and I had to sit in the very back room and watch his funeral on a TV screen. This made me so mad that people who had known him at Dunbar, most likely only in passing, had the privilege to see his funeral through their own eyes, not through some soulless TV screen. That I had known him since we were infants, and I was delegated to the back. Eric had recently started taking guitar lessons. The most recent song he had been learning was John Lennon's, Beautiful Boy. His guitar teacher played it and it was heartbreaking. (Six years later, a week after Denali was born, Darin played his radio show especially for me. He played songs about parenthood and babies and all the good stuff that comes with procreation. One of the songs he played was Beautiful Boy. I sat and wept, grieving with my whole body, for all the mother's who have lost a child.) The Funeral moved on to the Lexington Cemetery, where they buried him on a hillside overlooking a pond. While they buried him, I wondered what would happen to all the accoutrements we had tossed in the casket. I still wonder about those things every time I visit his grave.

This post has gone on longer than I had planned.I haven't even gotten to my purpose of this post. I've written things here that I haven't thought about in nearly a decade. The literary diarrhea was more forceful that I had expected it to be. I have to prepare for a March Madness performance tonight, so I'm going to hop off and continue this post, sooner than later.

epic weekend

Forecastle, Part 2:

We left after Bassnectar in search of a pool party that never quite happened. We wanted it so bad, though. We ended up at the Galt House in Robin & Carla's room. The room had a balcony that looked out over the interstate and the river. They had a CD player and a bunch of CDs that I had never heard of. I managed to find one stellar album. Peaking Lights
is a band I heard at Boomslang. (Also greatly enjoyed at Boomslang last year, Caboladies.) Soft female vocals backed by ambient noise. No one else seemed to enjoy it, so I took the CD player out onto the balcony and sat by myself for a bit. Looking out over the river, feet up on the railing, bridges lit up and the Colgate Clock in the distance, accompanied by the sound of the interstate and Peaking Lights. It was profoundly amazing. The amalgamation of the serenity of the river, mixed with lights on the concrete bridge to the visuals of lights in the distance and speeding lights below, supplemented with the sounds of thousands of cars driving by, to places I will likely never see in my lifetime. It brought to mind American Beauty, my favorite movie.

"It was one of those days when it's a minute away from snowing and there's this electricity in the air, you can almost hear it. And this bag was, like, dancing with me. Like a little kid begging me to play with it. For fifteen minutes. And that's the day I knew there was this entire life behind things, and... this incredibly benevolent force, that wanted me to know there was no reason to be afraid, ever. It helps me remember... and I need to remember... Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it, like my heart's going to cave in."

That last sentence sums up my feelings on that balcony.


While I'm on the subject of this beauty by the waterway, I wish Lexington had a waterway downtown. I know there was one that was covered up. I want that back. That is one thing I love about being in bigger cities is being able to be downtown by the water. Another stark contrast of man vs. nature. I have lived in Lexington my entire life. I'm pretty dang sure that it will always be my home. I went to preschool and high school at the same school. I now teach at that same school. While sometimes I feel really lame for not leaving and going on to do something grand in a big city, I love Lexington. I know it has its downfalls, and many of them, but it is solidly my home. If my heart could be shaped in another form, it might look like Kentucky. In my KY shaped heart, there would be a river flowing through Lexington. It would probably be a river of blood. That is so morbid. I'll be moving on now.

Mindy and I got back to our hotel room around 12:30. I really wanted to go find the after party. After dancing to Bassnectar, I was ready for some more. Mindy was too tired to go out, and nobody else was wanting to dance, so I decided to walk around downtown Louisville by myself. I walked down Main St. to 21C Museum Hotel. Most of our friends were staying there. I walked around the first 2 floors of the museum, looking at all the incredible art. Before that night, art museums sounded stuffy and boring. All the art I have studied has been art of dead people. Obviously, not my kind of art. I should have known better! all of the art at 21C is by living artists.

One artist had taken pictures of children, altered their facial features and placed them in strange ominous backgrounds.

This was part of the main exhibit. Animals that have been altered or pictures of taxidermied animals in unnatural settings. The actual animals were very strange.

This was one of the few conceptual art pieces. I saw this one first at night, then took this picture the next day. The three machines blow smoke rings. depending on the atmospheric pressure, angle of sunlight, temperature and wind, the smoke rings took a wide array of shapes and sizes. it was mesmerizing to watch. The thought that went into this art, from conceiving the very idea, to creating the machines that will make the rings, it all fascinates me that others people's brains work this way. Mine certainly does not.

This is one of the first pieces that caught my eye. The Barbie-esque eyes places on the contrasting dark skin stood out in a haunting manner. It gave the illusion of a jungle animal, stalking its prey.

This is a pencil drawing. Even up close, it is hard to tell. The shading and detail is so intricate and detailed. The image of a young boy in a man's body, in a piece of art that is nearly life size.


After wondering around 21C for an hour & a half, I left and walked around downtown Louisville for an hour. I looked at the old shotgun buildings and how far back they go. The buildings are old but for the most part, in good condition. Louisville seems to value the old architecture more than our fair city. There were entertaining signs on the Army Surplus store. There was a building with windows decorated with rainbow designs on the first floor, with the remaining 3 stories an empty shell. These building were haunting but hopeful. Down the street a bit I was marveling at the shotgun business when suddenly, in front of me was not a little storefront, but gigantic pillars of granite. I looked up and realized I was in front of the Humana Building. I am not easily impressed with new architecture. I was not impressed by the building materials, structural design or the feel of the building. In fact, the entire building made me want to shake my fists at the insurance premiums I pay, all the forms of documentation I have to send in, all so they can build an enormous building so their CEO can sit comfortably. The things about the building that really impressed me is that I was looking at storefronts that are at least a 150 years old, then suddenly, I'm in front of a new building. the mixture of the old and new, how well they were melded together, made me yearn for Lexington to have the vision to do that as well. There was a space in between the old buildings and the new that was about six inches wide. I could stick my arm in between these buildings. Those six inches separate at least 150 years of architecture and history. It made me jealous of what could be in Lexington.

I came back to our hotel room and talked to Asian Steev and Mindy. Mindy and I stayed up until 5am laughing. Slumber parties are awesome. I have dibs on Mindy and Steev for my hotel room next year. Back off.

By Sunday, My energy from performing was waning. The last two performances were especially taxing. I just didn't have it in me anymore. After 10 performances, I was ready to put the cymbals down for a long break. Once I laid the cymbals down, I realized that I had not eaten since 10am. I ate a really good hamburger (with locally raised beef!) and fries. I took it easy and patiently waited for the show I was most excited about, Ted Leo and The Pharmacists. Darin and I saw TL in 2006 in Newport. While TL was awesome, the venue was horrid. There was no re entrance. We went in at 2 o'clock and didn't leave until midnight. They had fries, hot dogs and pizza. Tap water and beer. And it was a smoking venue. But, Ted Leo made what would have been an absolutely miserable day into a bad day with a good ending. Me & Mia is one of my favorite songs. It is about a girl with an eating disorder. There is a touching movie that a girl made about her struggle with eating disorders here. I got there early enough to be in the front row, which is not something I typically do. The band came out and I got to get a good view of them for the first two songs. I couldn't hear Ted enough, so I moved to the back to be with my friends. The music was all awesome and high energy. Ted Leo is a great performer. Most of his songs are political in some way and his for wanting to fix things that are unjust and write beautiful songs about them clearly comes across in his music. The drummer is also very entertaining to watch. He is easy on the eyes and he looks like he is focusing so hard on drumming. He doesn't make eye contact with the crown at all, he just looks up the entire time. They played for about 40 minutes and played only stuff off their new album, Brutalist Bricks. I patiently waited for them to play Me & Mia, to no avail. When they said their Thank Yous and Goodnights, I was heartbroken that they hadn't played my jam. While the whole show was excellent, my expectations killed me in the end. I left the show pretty bummed. In the past, I have had a hard time with expectations. I would create these scenarios of what I expected to happen, the best possible outcome. When my ideal didn't occur, I would be disappointed, no matter how good it really was. I slipped back into that bad habit for the show, but it has served as a good reminder of why expectations can only let you down.

We migrated over to the main stage to wait for The Flaming Lips. What more can I say other than they are The Flaming Lips? Their shows are of astronomical proportions. The videos, the confetti, the balloons, Wayne Coyne in a giant ball rolling over the crown. The band coming out of a huge infrared ultraviolet vagina of light? What is there not to be impressed by? They played Vasoline in the beginning, Yoshimi towards the middle and they closed with Do You Realize? I cried during DYR? I cried for friends that have passed on that would have been at that show if they were alive, for friends faraway, for all my relations. It is such a happy sad song, the kind of song that makes you cry, but inspires you to do better. I have been compiling a list of funeral songs for several years. This sounds morbid, but I'm searching for songs that are not just about death, but about the good things, too. DYR? was the impetus for me to make that list. It is just the right songs for endings.

So, in closing for this entry that went on for far too long:
Do you realize that happiness makes you cry?

epic weekend

Forecastle, part 1:



Last weekend, my band, The March Madness Marching Band, performed at the Forecastle Music Festival in Louisville. It is our second year there and proved to be equally fun as last year, just in a different way. I'm really unsure where to start. I came home sick on Monday and today is the first day I have felt human. We performed a total of 10 times over the three days of the festival. Two of those performances were with Cirque Berzerk, a performing arts group that has been referred to as, "the circus on acid." I feel comfortable saying that our band as a whole has a great reverence for the Cirque. Being asked to play with them was undoubtibly a highlight of the MMMB career. Their opening act involved four men jumping on two trampolines that were separated by a thick wall on which they would land. I have always had a trampoline and it makes me very happy to jump on them. The rest of the performances were great, but I was so thrilled with the trampoline act that everything else paled in comparison. At the end of their show, the MC introduced us as, "Our new friends, The March Madness Marching Band." While we were performing, the entertainers were sitting on the sidelines with absolutely delightful looks on their faces. That was the highlight of all of our performances thus far. That entertainers that amazed me with their talent enjoyed ours, as well.

Saturday began at 9am with a bike ride to the Fall of the Ohios. We started at the Galt House and rode across the bridge, which is a really long bridge on bike and skipped over to the FotO park. Falls is a rather misleading word. I'm sure at some point during the year, the water is falling over the man-made lock, it just was not last Saturday. It was a nice little spot to take a break and sit on a shore with feet in water.


After more performances, it was eventually time to start seeing bands that I wanted to see. Cake was up first and was fun. I didn't get to see the whole show due to some distractions, but what I heard was good and made me wish I had been in the very front of the crowd. Next was DEVO. Wowza. They know how to put on a great show. DEVO did get creepy at the end of the show with a creature dressed in graduation robes and speaking in a strange voice about Michael Jackson. JenMill did not like it at all. It was pointed out to me that it would not be a true DEVO show if they didn't get weird. I have to agree with that. They played everything I wanted to hear, including their new song, What We Do. Be sure to click on the link to watch that video clip. If you don't like it, there is nothing I can do to help.

Bassnectar was next. The DJ, Lorin Ashton (who is unbelievably hot), was a juxtaposition compared to the previous artist. From new wave to drum & bass, it turned out to be an impressive transition. Bassnectar was easily the best show I saw at Forecastle. I had never heard of him before, but I have listened to him everyday since. Half-timed beats with songs that everyone knows created an instant dance party. I had a hard time not doing the robot. A very hard time.

Isn't he hot? I have a thing for guys with one headphone pressed between the ear and shoulder, especially while bent over some sort of electronic equipment. Go figure.




I had the pleasure of being surrounded by really great people that I love dearly and dancing to really excellent music, all the while wearing some mind blowing glasses, courtesy of Sue McKaig.

I should have stolen them. They make everything look happy. They made me feel like Willy Wonka, Johnny Depp style.

Saturday night and Sunday hijinx to be explored in another post.