Oh yeah....

Last night I had a strange dream...  I fell in love.  Oz and Candyland were neighboring towns.  And time was bending all wrong.  All to a soundtrack of Henry Mancini. 
 
I honestly don't care where I live as long as I have a place outside to sit and be.  That's all I want.... to be outside.  Oh yeah, and a motorcycle.  I've been actively shopping again the passed few days.  Dumb idea. 

I'm sitting on a 5th floor balcony with my sister's big fat orange cat watching the sunset, listening to the birds, and watching the traffic on Main St.  It's a wonderful Sunday evening.  I don't particularly care for this apartment one way or the other except that it has a balcony.  A place to sit outside and recharge. 

I can't stop thinking about hims.  No, that is no typo.  There are a two on my mind.  I'm confused and a bit sad and a little angry too.   Patience.... that's what I keep telling myself.  Keep calm....  Something will work out, in some way, at some point. 

The cat keeps coming to me for love and extends his claws into my legs if I wait too long to drop my hand down to him.  Stupid cat.  I have entirely too many items of clothing with holes from other people's pets.  I remember when I had creatures living with me.  Some stayed longer than others but I loved them all just the same.  I guess that was my old life.  Someday maybe I'll have a dog again.  Maybe.  First I need an outside.  Oh yeah, and a motorcycle. 

Summer is close and I'm excited about that though I have no adventures planned other than jumping out of an airplane.  I want to drink sangria and eat tacos outside.  I want to sit by the water and drink margaritas in the afternoon.  I want to watch the stars come out on the deck with a beer in my hand.  My legs could use some sun.  Their milky whiteness is nearly blinding this time of year.  Maybe I'll figure out what I want to be until I grow up.  Or not.  To all of it.  Who knows.

I have just over an hour before the light is gone.  Though the light on the outside of the building may be enough to see by, I'm starting to feel the absence of the sun already.  All I have with me is the hand-me-down sundress I'm wearing and the four others I bought today.  I needed to feel pretty and the thrift store was winning today.

...Just a little yard.  Something.  Anything.  Oh yeah, and someone to share it with.

It's getting chilly.  I wish I had a bonfire.  or the beach.  or  a hot toddy.  Though I suppose a pair of pants and a hoodie would work all right as well.  Going "home" is also an option but less appealing than sitting here with goose bumps and the orange cat.  I do wonder about the violin case to my right.  I want to open it and see the gem inside though I can almost guarantee that the case is empty.  That's usually how things go with me.

The city has smelled deliciously like food truck for the past 2 days.  This place smells like beef gravy.  The dried stuff in the little red package.  It smells kinda good, like the food truck smell, even to someone who doesn't eat red meat anymore.  My sister promised me vegan cupcakes for breakfast.  I wonder what happened to that idea?

The cat has gone back inside.  I guess when you have this balcony everyday, staying out on it until the last slightly uncomfortable second of the night doesn't make much sense.  What does make sense to a cat anyway?  Food.  Yes, and I'm getting hungry too.  7:13... still plenty of light left.


New York, Maryland, Nashville, Boston, London, Ireland, Florida, California, Colorado, Greece, Mexico.... yet other than people, I have no fond feelings or memories of Pennsylvania.  At least none that I can think of right now.  I've lived here so long I should be able to think of.... ah ha!  I found it.  The roof, Oxford Ave.  It always smelled like carnival up there.... funnel cake to be exact.  


:)

 
 


My stomach's growling.  It's too cold now to stay out here anyway without the sounds and smells of the boardwalk amusement park.    

April Showers

This is what I woke up thinking this morning: It was a long time ago and I'm not a little girl anymore.  And it wasn't that bad for me anyway.  I only lost my father, the other two lost their daddy. 

I'm in my normal place.... cross-legged on my bed with my computer sitting on the piece of wood I used to use for my B3 module.  Coffee is within easy reach on the arm of the futon.  I had a dream last night that you got rid of the Nissan... "payments" was all you said to me as we walked towards the huge bright slightly mustardy yellow 1980's Buick.  I only assume we were going to a gig.  I felt lost, out of sorts, not knowing why I was there but knew I had nowhere else to be and was content in your company.

What a strange year this has been.  I'm not sure how many of my smiles I wore like a bracelet and how many were genuine.  I suppose it doesn't matter too much when all you remember is smiling right?  The back of my smiles are bouncing off the empty metal walls of my insides.  It's all echo-y and a little scary.

I have a hard time with change. 

Lately, I have a hard time getting out of bed in the morning.

But I am surrounded by wonderful friends whom I love dearly and love me in return.  Some days I have to remind myself of that constantly.  Those smiles don't bounce in, they beam out.

There's a girl I've known since kindergarten.  She lived up the street from me and thanks to facebook, we are still in touch today.  And although we haven't spoken much since junior high or seen each other since high school graduation, I still consider her my friend.  She was my first best friend after all, and you never forget your first anything.

Our birthdays are coming up, in fact, hers is today.  She was in town on Sunday and requested my presence for a pre-bday drink.  I was stricken with the fear of a 12 year old yet instantly jumped up and showered, dressed, and got "going out ready".

It was lunchtime and we were in the cafeteria one day in the 7th grade.  It was the day the girls looked at me and told me I wasn't popular enough to eat with them or be their friend anymore.  The three I had known longest sat silently with their eyes down while the other two giggled as they told me this.  Once I realized it wasn't a joke, I got up with my tray and walked away and never looked back.  As we moved on to high school, those girls became the cheerleaders & entourage and I happily hung with the "metal heads" and music kids.

That is the fear that hit me on Sunday.... meeting up with the cheerleaders at a bar in the city.  It sounds absolutely ridiculous as I write it down.  The anxiety of not being good enough is still living somewhere inside.  I was all dressed and ready to go and I sat on my bed trying to decide if I should go until it was too late.

I honestly do hope to grab a drink with her soon as well as with our other friend who was there that day.  It may be awkward at first but they are good people and that's what's important.  We could all use a few more good people in our lives.

The chilly dampness of today is starting to eat through my sweatshirt and I still have stuff to do before work.  As much as I've been dreading going to work lately, if it wasn't for the job I'd never leave my apartment.  Or my bed.  Sometimes its the responsibilities you dread that give you a reason to keep going until the real motivation returns.  Mine seems to be on one hell of an extended holiday.... maybe I'll find it on the upcoming extended weekend I'm giving myself in 2 days.  Looking forward to a drive and perhaps some sun and beach time.
        

Orchids

At some point he grabbed my hand and I pulled him through Suburban Station hot on the heels of MissRose who was trying hard not to miss her last train out of the city.  He twisted his hand and quickly intertwined his fingers with mine and held firm.  "I'd pay the $100 cab ride to spend more time in the city with you."

They both got to their trains and I stumbled my way through the empty station in search of the subway.  New York City is much less scary.  There are people around all night long.  The Philly subway was a frightening place on Sunday.  The wait for the 15 trolley, even more so. 

Last Thursday night I arrived home to find a very healthy 3 inch centipede on my wall.  Big and ugly and gross.  It was in arm’s reach yet I walked by and proceeded about my night.  I’ve heard they eat roaches you see.  I let them live.

I’m wondering if it’s time for me to give up music.  I feel my heart getting ready to break apart.  Its a familiar feeling actually.  It feels like home.

Armed with my favorite glass filled to the brim with Shiraz or Pinot Noir or perhaps a Cabernet, I sat crossed legged on my bed and opened hulu while I waited for the phone to ring.  No sooner had I gotten comfortable then I saw the front few legs appear over the arm of the futon and “my buddy” tried to join me in bed.  What kind of life is this?  I took a deep breath and blew him down and grabbed a shoe but he disappeared. 

The phone rang.

“Hi Jim Hogan!  How are you?!” chuckled the familiar voice on the other end. 

“The best part is that as we graduated, the music industry was officially declared dead.  There was and is no way to really making a living of it anymore.”

It’s my stubborn pride that has me hanging on.  I feel like moving on to the “real” world would be giving up on myself and everything I've wanted and wished for.  This is all I know and love and I’m scared.  As I typed that I heard my mousey friend running behind the paneled wall next to my bed.  My heart sank into my belly and I realize it’s the most I’ve eaten all day.

“It would be a sin for you to give it up.  You’re too good.  There’s always hope that someday.....”

What good is hope?

What good is someday?

I’ve had a great life as a musician.  I’ve been lucky.  And I wouldn’t change a thing but maybe (and I can’t yet stomach getting rid of the “maybe”) maybe it’s time. 

And there’s my friend again.... safe on the other side of the room, the top of him peeking out from behind Ani and Utah Phillips.


I haven’t done laundry since my return from my last Maryland trip.  My blue jeans still smell of bonfire and whiskey and happy.  Maybe that’s only because when I close my eyes I find myself back there.  I wish I was wanted there more often.  But I have no control over anything other than myself.



TrainStation is now smitten with me.  All I did was make him laugh and get him to his train....

“What is your favorite flower?”

I’m not used to someone putting forth that kind of effort for me.  Especially by going through MissRose so as to surprise me.  I love flowers.  I love the colors.  I love their silky soft petals.  I even love how they smell.  But my favorite part is they never overstay their welcome.  They come and go quickly and leave you with a smile and wanting more.

There is not a hint in my mind as to what’s going to happen next or where I’m going.  I’ll get by with a little help from my friends. 

J O Y

Today was a very exciting day for me.  Completed isn't the right word.  Up to date is more like it.  As life goes on, there will be more I will need but for now, for now my collection is complete.   I don't want anything else.  I don't need anyone else.

I obtained the final one this afternoon, completely by accident, while I was enjoying a snowy walk to catch the bus.  Those are the best surprises.... not even a hint that today would be the day.  They've all been unexpected but today's was an extra special surprise since I truly thought I'd never get it.  In my excitement I missed the bus.  Actually, I got impatient, sent a quick text, and practically skipped back to my car long before the bus arrived at the station.   I was hoping you could keep me company for the ride home, but it's ok...

This particular collection began 4 or 5 years ago.  Someone wonderful I used to know filled my Ipod with music for adventuring and my inspiration was tucked neatly in the middle.  After getting home from work this evening I got comfortable and spread them out in front of me.  One at a time I picked each up, cradled it in the palm of my left hand, and smiled.  Just that little bit of warmth on my hand is enough for me.   My favorites include one from Tampa, Florida, one from a truck stop in Ohio on my birthday 2 years ago, one from a random day wandering NYC, my secret one from a fall day in Philly, and of course my new one from a snowy February day in DC.  The new one feels funny, out of place almost, I'm not sure it's time for it but it's here now so I will keep it safe.   And you say that I don't have this down.  I've been practicing out loud. 

~~~

Three days ago I saw my first robin of the year and today the crocuses started breaking through the dirt.  Soon the daffodils will be up.  The waterfall never did freeze this winter.  I wanted so badly to see that, closing my eyes and imagining how beautiful it must be as the weather got colder.  Silly I know but I put myself to sleep on more than one occasion thinking about it and wishing I could just sit there and watch that last drop freeze on its way down.  I remember some words and I revisit my treasures. 

My mind wanders a lot now and very often it's to that waterfall.  Part of me thinks, "There's always next year."  Another part of me thinks, "It's a funny world where machines could replace people."  I looked in the bathroom mirror today and noticed my collar bones are more pronounced then I've seen in a while and I can see the waves of my breast bone.  My eyes are greener too, even when I'm not sad.  

All the evidence points in one direction.....

tupelo honey

My coffee tastes a little sweeter and smoother this morning though I didn't make it any differently than usual.  I did however, get to drink it in my window for the first time in months.  Is it really only early February?  .....fresh mild air and the warmth of the sun on my cheek.  It's the first real warmth I've felt in months., not the electronic warmth of my blanket or the gas powered warmth of my car heat.  There are only two perfect heat sources in this world, the sun and human touch. 

Gotta love the city where the trees aren't quite bare in the winter.  The tree outside my kitchen window is sporting a variety of plastic bags today.  A tan Wawa bag, a small plain white one, and a shredded food delivery bag.  They're making a nice rustling accompaniment to the gulls flying over the Yarn Mill. 

As if to bring me back to reality, I randomly remember the plastic dog food bowls in the cabinet to my left.  Gray bowls with little white paw prints around the outside edge.  I've nearly forgotten that that was this apartment just over a year ago.  I feel a slight breeze and the sun pokes my cheek and I smile at the dog bowls hidden in the back of the cabinet. 

My mind quickly drifts to an early October bonfire... hotdogs, bud light, s'mores, and more stars than I've seen in a very long time....

I think I really liked this last one.  Though I've already put that all in past tense, I'm not completely giving up.  I'm not waiting around either.  Life will take me where it wants to take me.  And I'll continue the search for the fine line between fighting for what I believe and walking away from a lost cause. 

My heart lets out a maniacal little chuckle and tricks me into going to youtube and playing a certain song.  I curse myself and listen a second time.  Shitballz!  *splat*  That's the worst part about music, it breathes life into fantasies, it calls back the memories of making out in the dark by my car at the end of the night, it reinforces hope that may no longer exist.  I'll gladly live in that particular 3 minutes and 31 seconds with my second cup of coffee and the realization that allowing myself this partial little fall was the best thing I could have done for myself, even if it turns out to be nothing more than a memory that smacks me like that last one, over morning coffee in my window sill.

bridges

There's an envelope on my kitchen table with your name written in black sharpie, in big bubbly caps, crooked and underlined once.  It grabs my attention every time I walk by.  I hate it.  Some days I pretend I'll never see you again and eventually the envelope and its contents will get shoved aside and then end up in my basket of sort and shred.

How did I end up here again?  I promised myself I wouldn't let it happen.  I did everything different this time.  Well, almost everything....

I haven't driven over my favorite nighttime bridge for half a year.  It was love at first sight.  A cable-stayed bridge that spans the Chesapeake & Delaware Canal.  It glows gold at night.  Though I'm usually one for silver, it's stunning and too peaceful to ignore.  The stretch of highway that takes me there is a great drive as well, not heavily traveled, dark, boring, just curvy enough and just long enough.

I needed a drive.  I wanted to see my bridge.

All the sound in my head shut up as I crossed the Delaware state line and I realized I never turned on any music.  I left the stereo off a bit longer.  Music's been making me queasy lately, a sad state of affairs for a full time musician.  I simply can't find peace in even my favorite albums and artists right now.  It's great to be working but I need a hobby and I'm not sure driving over bridges in the middle of the night is considered a hobby.

My EZpass got a workout tonight crossing the bridge 4 times.  I thought of stopping and taking a picture but it's not the same, nor do I want to share my bridge with you.  You wouldn't really care anyway would you?  Didn't think so. 

I wish I were back on that beach in Florida, alone and watching the sun sink into the Gulf.  Better yet, I wish I were in Ikaria on the rocky beach in Faros watching the fishing boats and soaking in the beautiful all day long.  My reserves of beautiful seem to be depleted.  Maybe that's why all the grump lately.  Looking around me I see all the places I left bits of happy... willy-nilly sharing it with people who only wanted to enjoy it temporarily and superficially.  I'm ok with that.  What good is beautiful-happy if you can't share it?
 
A quick Waffle House stop cements the smile my bridge put on my face.  Hot coffee in an old stained and cracked mug, scrambled eggs, scattered, smothered and covered hash browns, and sausage.  I feel full and warm again. 

Home and in bed before the sun even thought of rising.....  I dropped my purse on top of your envelope with barely a second a thought and am cozied up in bed.  Much better for now.

snow covered caddy

I had a dream about the abandoned light blue caddy the night before last.  It was sitting right where it was left.... under the light in the little patch of parking spaces between the Waffle House and the Best Western that didn't really belong to either, in Nashville, in January 1999.  I spent countless hours sitting behind the front desk watching the flurries cover it in silence.

That was the best job ever.  The pay was shitty.  The hours were shitty.  I was always the only one on duty and I was almost always second shift so not even my 2 favorite housekeepers were around, the recovered junkie/former Allentown, PA prostitute or the sweet but dumb as bricks large toothless former drunk woman.  And I looked forward to Air Guard weekend each month.

Once a month I had a hotel full of Master Sergeants and higher ranking officers.... Good southern men.  Good strong southern gentlemen.  I was a not quite 22 year old fresh out of college girl far from home with a big smile and quickly ended up with a dozen or so body guards.

It was the one weekend a month I was guaranteed to be well fed and stocked with beer and conversation.  They would bring burgers and fries or pasta or peach cobbler and ice cream to the front desk for me regularly.  Mmmm I remember that cobbler... it was still warm and the ice cream on top was barely starting to melt! 

One particular paratrooper (Room 112.  Always.  Double, non-smoking.... he liked the second bed to lay his stuff out on.). He always greeted me with a huge smile and tons of charm.  At least once during each stay he would call down to the front desk, have me order delivery and would show up 20 minutes later with a six pack, pay for dinner and we'd eat together.  He would call the front desk every hour or so and tell me a joke or ask a stupid question "to make me laugh and kill the boredom of the hotel for a few minutes."  His admiration did not go unnoticed by his fellow airmen and if they were in the lobby at the same time they would tease him about his shameless flirting and tell me that if he bothered me to call their room.

He never did anything to put my job in jeopardy and never made me feel uncomfortable.  He was deployed to Kuwait sometime during that year and we kept in touch via email.  That year was not a great year.  I commuted back and forth between Nashville and Philly every few weeks for my sick father and was getting pretty good at drinking heavily and regularly.  I was bored and depressed with my life and my lack of opportunities to play and make music.  It's really no wonder I pushed things out of control electronically with 112.

I knew what to say to get a reaction out of a man, even a player 16 years my senior.  It was easy.... he was putty in my hands.  Safe putty on the other side of the world.  I loved the attention and the fantasy and the freedom of being freshly single for the first time in 8 years.  I enjoyed exploring my own sexuality and was in awe at how simple it was to drive this man crazy. 

We met up on 2 occasions after that.  Once between Kuwait deployments in the hotel where we first met where I was no longer an employee and once before an Afghanistan deployment in Pittsburgh on Easter Sunday.  I left family dinner with a lie and drove 5 hours for the sake of adventure.  I remember sitting in my car staring at the massive hotel in front of me wondering what possessed me to drive all this way for someone I didn't really care about and hadn't seen in 3 years.  I called him and when he answered he said, "You aren't coming are you?"  I told him I was in the parking lot and he said he didn't believe me and to flash my lights.  Again I thought about saying never mind and going home but couldn't resist the urge to prove I was there. 

I spent the night with him, ate room service in the morning, and then we went separate ways.  Depending on your definition of sex, it is possible to say nothing happened.  We never had "sex".  Our meetings included a big barrel of inappropriateness and a touch of awkwardness whereas our emails were completely  uninhibited and fantastic.  Isn't that the way it goes though?  Electronic communication isn't really  communication at all. 

We lost touch sometime during his next deployment.  Internet access was rare for him and I had my life going in all sorts of directions.  I've tried to find him a few times in the passed few years..... facebook, myspace, google... to no avail.  Though honestly, I haven't tried super hard.  Never even tried to send an email.  He's one of those experiences in my life that I look back on and smile about and giggle a little and even blush about.  Everyone needs a few of them. .....Gawd, he's in his 50's now!  hahahaha wow!