Breathe

Friday night on the way home from the Pratt (because I may as well live at the Pratt- I'm only home tonight because my landlord is finally coming to fix the dryer tomorrow and I needed to clean up some secret messes I didn't want him to see) I heard an interesting report on meditation. Nothing I hadn't heard before, really, but it reminded me that I too often let things get me worked up. Little things. Like the Great Bell Helemt Fiasco (although that did prevent me from riding my bike on the first really nice day this year) and the girl at the beach tonight who was letting her dog play in the wetland preserve. Seriously now. But I should just let it go. And after a spin around the path I did feel better. In and out. Nothing's threatening my life here.

BUT. The Great Bell Helmet Fiasco. I only bought the damned thing because my other helmet smelled like urine and it was making me sick when I went on long rides. I was at REI for an STP clinic, Bell helmets were on sale, and despite my reservations about the quality I bought the thing so I wouldn't have to smell my head all 70 miles the next day. And man was it uncomfortable. And there was this pad in the front where the sweat pooled really bad so any time I looked up (like at a light or the impending rain clouds that were relentless til just this weekend) it ran all down my face like I was wringing out a rag. Gross. And sweat in your eyes is not good when you're cruising downhill at 35 mph. No more than ten rides later the plastic cage that holds the stupid thing on your head snapped, fortunately while I was sitting in my driveway. Bell wouldn't take it back depsite the fact that it was obviously a manufacturer defect. But REI did. And so Bell has lost a customer. And while I probably won't be visiting REI any more than I usually do they were really excellent about taking it back. I am now happily installed in a super fast Giro helmet. White. I am fly.

I am a mentor again. My 16 year old friend has returned. Truthfully? I'm really glad. I know I was relieved that she may have given up before but I think I missed her. Since her return we have had pizza for dinner (you can always count on pizza to get the conversation flowing), visited the best freaking Mexican restaurant in town, and had anti-pasta and watched "Once" (of course)of an evening. She turns 17 in a few days and for her birthday I am treating her to the Swell Season. I had two tickets... When we went out for Mexican we stumbled into a local record store on our way for cupcakes and lo and behold there was a band playing, Moondoggies (and there's a funny story here). We only caught the last song but she liked it which I found encouraging and so I burned her the Glen and Marketa CDs and she liked those, too, and so now she's my date. I am so excited to share this with her. She's never been to a "concert" and my god I cannot even begin to describe to her what your first show is like. Mine was Skiploader at the YMCA in Billings, MT, 1994.

So the funny Moondoggies story. We walked into the record store and there's this band on the stage (with an incredibly cute, incredibly married piano player) and I'm looking at the poor guy who has to play all the etcetera instruments and sing backups and thinking, Man, he looks familiar. They finish up, start cleaning up, and my young friend and I are tooling around the store sampling CDs and the etc. guy walks down our aisle. He kind of smiles and waves at me and it takes me a minute and then I shout, "Ken's Market!" He's the checker at my corner market. The one who, on his first weekend there, noted that I visited the store no less than 4 times in 3 days. I should split my time between Ken's and the Pratt. I'm mildly embarassed that I called him Ken's Market but I don't know his name because he's always wearing a different name tag. Next time I catch him... FYI, Moondoggies did just sign with a label and are making a name for themselves. So being the etc. guy can't be all bad. You probably don't get laid as often as the drummer even but at least if your band is good you have a little cred.

And OK. Fuck it. I give up trying to keep Seattle anonymous since I can't be consistent.

Some Things

To Jen, 4/11/08:

Earlier today (or maybe it was yesterday) I read this article on MSN about women who choose to be single mothers, whether by an oops or adoption or artificial insemination. It was oddly encouraging. Then tonight on the way home from the Pratt NPR interviewed this woman who conducted a study regarding women who do not have kids and she found that almost 100% across the board their relationships were better, more intimate, and lasted longer and that they considered themselves happier than women who did have kids. Even women who just kind of woke up one morning and realized they were too old to have kids even though they'd always thought they would were happier and healthier. Again, oddly encouraging. I wish I could remember the lady's name- I'd hook you up to her article. THEN there was another interview with a woman who had edited a collection of poetry about motherhood and she talked a lot about finding time to be a mother and an artist and how some women just knew they didn't have it in them for both and so chose not to have kids. Even though she was kind of righteous about her choice to have children and continue to write it was a good interview. It made me think that this whole crazy auntie bit maybe isn't so crazy. I mean, wouldn't Emma love to have an auntie who is an artist and lives in Dublin (this is my current fantasy) that she can visit every summer and travel around Europe with and come to stay with when she turns 18 and can't figure out what to do with her life?

I know we've talked about it over and over but... I always thought I'd have kids but it seems like I just keep pushing it out and pushing it out and that the only way it will happen is if it's an accident and I'm just way too careful to have an accident. So. It may never happen and I'm really pretty OK with that.

So that's what I've been thinking about lately. Among other things. And really it's not so much being careful as not having sex that's keeping me an independent (although I am really careful). I mean, you just plain old can't get pregnant if you're not sleeping with someone. Which is the situation I find myself in right now. And mostly I'm too busy to care much but I must admit that I miss that belly to belly feel sometimes. But don't get me wrong here. And while I'm thinking about it...

I do not think that any of the men who have passed through my life have been jerks.
Well, maybe S. But no one else. And really probably S. was mostly just young and in a situation he didn't know how to get out of. I sure didn't. And N. and I. Well, we just happened and it never should have lasted as long as it did. We made really good friends, but not lovers. I think we could still probably run a very successful business together. Sure, the way he left was pretty ugly but he was right to do it. And T. Well, he's got probably three luggage carts of emotional baggage he's hauling around the airport and while I think he thinks he's put it on the plane to mental health it just keeps circling the baggage carousel. This is not an excuse for any of his behavior but it does explain some things. And he never treated me poorly. He was just selfish. Maybe I'm being too kind here. I could say some really ugly stuff about all three of them (and a few things about men who have had more minor roles) but what good is it? I hope they look at me and figure that whatever shit I threw was, in the grand scheme of things, fairly harmless. We're all working on it. I hope.

So now. Show season is in full swing here and Good Music Month has migrated from March to April. I saw The Avett Brothers last weekend. Two nights (I only attended the Saturday show) totally and completely sold out. Lovely. I love a sold out show. And they were pretty damned good. Non-stop music. I also witnessed The Reason I Prefer To Go To Shows Alone. The Bitter Girlfriend. She didn't have enough fun and it's his fault. Been there done that and it's no fun for anyone. Go alone. Flirt with the bartender (I did! Hooray for me!). Smile at the guys behind you. Agree with the girls next to you that the mullet in front of you is, indeed, reprehensible and how could anyone sleep with him? It's a good time to be had by you by your not so lonesome. Next up is Devotchka. I saw them at Bumbershoot this summer and I just knew that if the beer garden had been any closer it would have gotten out of hand real quick. They have a lighted tuba, for god's sake! But actually, there's a little something before Devotchka. Oh yes, yours truly scored tickets to see Glen and Marketa. I have died and gone to hell with all the rest of the fun loving folks.

Once

The Frames had been in my periphery. They weren't a band that I paid any particular attention to but I understood they were Irish and I understood they were good. Over the past weekend I saw a little movie called "Once". I had balked at seeing it as I'd heard it billed as a contemporary musical. Gross. But I found myself falling in love with this movie and its people and especially its music.

The Frames aren't in "Once". Glen Hansard, their lead singer, is. I am in love with Glen Hansard. I am in love with his passion. I am in love with the way he puts words together. I am in love with the way he closes his eyes to feel. I think Glen Hansard could kill me with one verse. I am also in love with the lovely Marketa Irglova. I am in love with her ghostly sweet voice and how she fools you into thinking she's just there to play the piano.

I may up and move to Dublin. Don't be surprised. I may get the courage yet to do that one stupid thing.

It is knowing that a song can make your soul ache where you heart should be. That anyone can feel so intensely, so intensely they might break. That you would open yourself up to that and then share it with others. Such incredibly personal and private experiences cut and pinned for all to hear. My god. How do we survive this drudgery when we are capable of feeling well beyond?

Maybe A Little Ridiculous

Eating breakfast at 10:23PM in the hopes that it might save me from two pints and a schooner of bitters and enable me to get up at 6:30AM for my ride tomorrow morning. Thinking, again, about "Once"...

Without any touch of jackassedness (the bitters do not allow me to find the word) I can tell you that this might save your life. Ache and want and need and you can feel your eyes close with his to know this passion that allows you to feel this.

Worst Case Scenario

I think I used to mentor a 16 year old girl. That's a funny thing to say, I know. I think I used to because I haven't seen her in over two weeks and she hasn't called me despite my messages. I think I'm deciding to let it go. I think she has chosen a path that she knows I would disapprove of and she doesn't want to see my face across the table trying not to be a parent.

The last time I saw her was with Jen. We were supposed to pick her up from work but I got a message that her work schedule had been "changed" and that I should pick her up at her house. Changed my ass. She was hung over and had called in sick I'm quite sure. Granted, Jen and I were also a little bleary eyed and gravelly voiced but we're 30, not 16. She spoke highly of her friends who had dropped out of school to care for their baby. He works at KFC, she doesn't work. She mentioned they'd been cruising a neighborhood that I know well is as ghetto as it gets up here. She mentioned she'd forgotten to register for the college preview we'd been talking about attending for weeks. She was talking emancipation from her mom. And that's when I knew it was over.

I have called her and left several messages with her family and on her machine but to no avail. She hasn't contacted me. And really, she is 16 and is reaching an age where she can make her own decisions. Not always the best decisions as we all know but still capable of it and ready to exercise that ability.

I remember 16. It sucked. I made some ugly and embarrassing mistakes with boys. I made some ugly and embarrassing mistakes with what I decided to wear out of the house. I lost my best friend. I disappeared into some sort of deep numbness that I didn't resurface from for several years. Not depressed necessarily, but on my own for sure. I was a year off from losing my virginity, two years off from leaving home, and eight years off from learning that most of the time it's a lot easier to walk away from a bad situation than you might think. I would not do 16 over again for any amount of money or peace of mind that might be promised. I might apologize to Justin and Michael, though, for what probably appeared to be scary stalking insanity.

This is where I make a confession. I am a bit relieved that I think I used to mentor a 16 year old. That maybe my commitment is fulfilled. I know that she is just beginning a time in her life when she needs a good, strong role model more than ever. But I don't think she wants one. I thinks she feels like she's made her bed and now she'll lay in it. Really. It is easier to repeat your family's mistakes than escape them and change. So much easier. Of course if she called me I would meet her for coffee in a heartbeat. But I don't think she wants to hear from me. And that's OK. I'm ready to move on.

An aside. If you have not seen the movie "Once" I highly recommend it. I balked as I had heard it called a contemporary musical but my curiosity got the best of me. Loved it. Right now trying to decide if I should tear open the sealed Netflix return envelope and watch it again.