Say Hello to Heaven

The Forum - aka the Fabulous Forum is a magical place. It has its own smell...and no, not just the smell of years of spilled drinks and popcorn. It smells like history. All the events that have been held there since it was built in 1967 have left their mark. Maybe I'm weird because I think of stuff like that as I am walking into places..wondering who's footsteps fell in that spot before mine, who's butt was in that chair last. It has an elegance that only old buildings have and even with the "updates" that have been made to the interior over the decades it still feels cool, the kind of cool that only comes with age. I've been to the Forum for concerts so many times over the years and big moments in my history happened there. I took my oldest to see Depeche Mode when he was 5. He sat on my shoulders in our floor seats and then danced his skinny white booty off right along side my skinny white booty. In fact I saw Depeche Mode there every time they played over the past 20 years. The Forum started to feel like a home away from home. The Red Hot Chili Peppers and I hung out solo one night.. My then hubby didn't want to go and I didn't want to miss the show so I went alone. I've seen Duran Duran, Muse, Coldplay and Fiona Apple. I saw the Foo Fighters there with my dear friend Erin and it felt like we had been thrown back in time to some rock god show in the 70's. We screamed like teenagers all night.
Each time the stage is different, the interior takes on the personality of the band it's hosting. The last time I went to see my friend the Forum it was to hear Temple of the Dog. Since I spent some years in the 90's making babies I missed the chance to see Pearl Jam or Soundgarden in their heyday. I was able to catch an STP show but not at the Forum. At any rate I wasn't about to miss the chance to see the conglomeration of so many of these bands. Even though the tickets had sold out I was able to get some through a scalper but the thing that made the TOD show even more cool was the person who went with me. I can't remember the last time I had a date for a concert. I don't know if I ever have actually. Typically I go with friends or my kids. This night I had by my side a big, tall, handsome man who appreciated the music and the history of the venue just the same way I did. He knows things about music that I don't even know and has some pretty amazing history himself so to be there in that place with him was truly special.
The crowd that night was full of stellar individuals. Some who looked like they had stepped straight out of 1990 and into the beer line. Other people looked like the soccer moms and dads they had become, out for a night without the kids. Then there was us.. I wish I could have seen what we looked like to the people around us. I did run into my cousin and his wife after and he said we looked good together but I'm getting ahead of myself. Beers in hand, we stopped at the wall for one last smoke before going in when the lights dimmed -  the signal that the show was about to start. We rushed to our section and just as his hand pulled the red velvet curtain open for me to walk in I saw the stage covered in Persian rugs and guitar stands, chords like spaghetti all over the floor and Chris Cornell standing there as the first few notes of "Say hello to Heaven" spilled out into the arena. I can see it in my minds eye as I type, I can hear the music and smell the mix of breath and beer and his skin. We found our surprisingly good seats and spent the rest of the show not sitting in them. He kissed me as the music played and the lights were low. Everything was perfect in that moment. The rest of the set was spot on as they paused between songs to tell stories and make us feel like we were hearing them back in some garage in Seattle circa 1990. I don't think I have ever had a concert experience just exactly like that one. Even if I never have the stars align in that same way again that will be ok. One more time the Fabulous Forum worked it's magic....

Always the Martha never the Ally

I have a love/hate relationship with the movie the Notebook. The first time I saw the movie I was married and deeply, madly, stupid in love with my then husband. My first Noah was "lay down in the middle of street and wait for the light to change" exciting. He was handsome, could build anything and made me laugh till my sides hurt. I related heavily to Ally’s character because like her my parents didn’t think my Noah was good enough for me either. In fact - my Dad once told him that he would only marry me over his dead body. It was less dramatic than all that. My dad wore a tuxedo and was very much alive as he walked me down the aisle to my doom… eh hem, I mean Groom.

The next time I watched the movie roughly ten years later I was going through a divorce from my first Noah and that was when I related to Martha. She’d lost the love of her life. Albeit to a World War and I’d only lost mine to drugs and a slew of drug related affairs but you get the idea. She took up with Noah and proceeded to fill in that blank relationship spot losing her sweetie had left. Martha had a lot to offer and no place to put it. Me too girl....Me too.

 A few years after my divorce I met my second Noah, he seemed like a good fit. We got along easily even though we’d both had our hearts broken by loss or other people. We were willing to give it a shot. Things were cruising along smoothly until I found out that I was the Martha. Dammit. I was the proverbial place holder and he married his Ally about 9 months after he ended things with me. Unlike Martha I'd never heard stories about Ally and how wonderful she was. I didn’t even know she existed but the end was the same. I found myself alone with my hands in my apron pockets, uneaten dinner on the table wondering what the hell just happened. Ok, so truthfully it was more like my hands shoved into the pockets of my jeans as I sat for a new tattoo and I don’t wear aprons. I’m not sad to have missed the whole “let’s have lunch together so I can see how awesome the other chick is” moment like Martha and Ally had.  A respectful, face to face goodbye from the Noah would have been nice but this isn’t a Nicholas Sparks movie, this is real life.  

More recently I've been the Martha again but this time to no one in particular - I don’t think. Hard to say cuz my third Noah was about as close mouthed as the Nicholas Sparks version about what was closest to his heart and what he was up to. I think I'm just Martha to the Ally’s of the world in general. I even have the same color hair as the pair of them. Redheads aren't everyone’s cup of tea but Noah’s seem to love em. The Martha process is always the same. Fall hard and try to fill that empty relationship spot with a Noah. The handsome Man’s Man who just isn’t ready to settle down. Well, not with YOU anyway. We plug along in our little Martha lane, making dinner, being nice, wondering where we REALLY stand with Noah but not wanting the answer at the same time. Don’t be mistaken..Martha isn’t someone to be pitied. She’s a badass in her own rite. Cooks a mean meal and not bad in the sack. It takes courage to carry on with the ordinary. And THAT ladies and gentlemen appears to be the story of my life. Always the Martha and never the Ally.  

Maybe someday my true Noah will reveal himself in all his over 6 foot tall, honest, handsome, mechanically inclined, family oriented, badass splendor. OR maybe I’ll just keep watching Nicholas Sparks’ movies, getting tattoos and being my own damn Ally for no one other than myself in my own effing splendor.  That seems like a plan the OG Ally would approve of.

Hustle

Hustle  - Urban dictionary defines it as anything you need to do to make money ..be it sellin cars, drugs, ya body. “If you makin money you hustlin”

Webster’s Dictionary defines it a tad differently – to convey forcibly or hurriedly, to obtain by energetic activity.

I think my current situation would fall somewhere in the middle of the two definitions.  I am not “sellin cars, drugs or my body” but I do obtain my money by mostly energetic activity….if frenzied rush and huge amounts of stress powered by even more huge amounts of caffeine counts as “energetic” or “hurried”.

During the last 6 years I have almost always had two jobs. My 23 year old self decided to get married and be a stay at home mom decorating my white picket fence rather than completing my degree. As a result when the fence blew down and I had to dig out my resume my work experience was all out of date and I wasn’t qualified for much. Luckily I had friends and family who were willing to help me out and I found two part time jobs that equaled one full time job. I was grateful.  I still didn’t go back to school because my kids were small and I didn’t want to leave them alone in the proverbial fenceless yard all the time. They needed a parent present full time to do the parent stuff. That parent is me.  I will never regret that decision because the end result is that my kids are productive members of society, heretofore with no prison records and no ridiculous psychological damage. 

In the past few days I have been complimented for my “hustle” a few times, close friends and coworkers making mention of how hard I work to hold things down. Maybe because they noticed I’ve been a little bummed out, because I have been.  Maybe just because they are kind souls, which they are. With the need to hustle also comes the fact that shit is hard. If it wasn’t hard you wouldn’t have to hustle so much right? I don’t know. It’s been such a long time since I’ve rested on my laurels that I don’t even know where they are.

My kids are good but the rest of my world is laggin to be honest. The yard is a mess. The car needs maintenance. I still haven’t unpacked all the boxes from when I moved out of my Barbie dream house. My “hustle” runs a little low by the time I get home from job number two and I prioritize what gets the remainder of my energy. Don’t we all? I guess my point in all this is we ALL hustle. We all work hard and do our best every day to get shit done.  Our priorities may differ but the people I gravitate to are the Hustlers. Not the shade peddlers only looking out for themselves but the people who do honest work, treat others with respect, work on their own mess and own their shit. No one’s perfect but with a little hustle you can be better than you were yesterday and that should be the goal.

Cheers to your hustle…

 

I'm only happy when it rains

Shirley Manson said it and I agree...I'm not ONLY happy when it rains but there's something peaceful about a rainy day. Especially when it comes at the end of a year...like Mother Nature's way of giving everything a good rinse to make a fresh start for the New Year. A good rain is a literal and figurative bath. For the Earth and for us. The streets are a little cleaner and so are our cars. The cobwebs under the eaves look like they've been decorated with diamonds when the rain hits them. Maybe we need to be more like the spiders? Because unlike the nursery rhyme says ..the rain does NOT wash the spider out. Those sons a bitches hang on like nothing I've ever seen. Or maybe it's better to just let go.
 Let go of all the ick, the hurt, the disappointment. Let the rain wash ME out. I want to stand in the middle of a field with my arms outstretched and let the rain soak me to the bone. Until my hair looks crazy and my sweatshirt droops off my arms, mud under my feet. Let the rain rinse away the painful moments, the days that were like getting your finger pinched in a car door. The days that left scars on my heart and wrinkles on my forehead. Wash off the dust of relationships that won't be following me into the next 365 days. Rain drops falling on my head like Chinese water torture, tap tap tap...reminding me to let out the thoughts that don't serve my purpose. I like the idea that the rain is pure, straight from Heaven and kind of like a big, wet hug from my family who's not on the planet with me anymore. The rain can wash things clean and make it look shiny and pretty again. The way streets always look in movies as the Guy stands off in the distance beckoning to the Girl from under a streetlight. Rain makes puddles with the runoff motor oil on top that even though its really just half pollution we're looking at, the colors swirling around are still pretty. Kind of like all of us... half messy and half beautiful at the same time.
I am happy when it rains. I am happy that it's coming at the end of a year. Like most years before it, this one has been filled with challenges and treasures. Stuff I'll keep and stuff I'll try hard to let go. I still have more questions than answers but I'm learning that acceptance is best. Just let it all pool up like the puddles on my porch and when there's too much it will spill over and recycle. Yep.
My pagan heart always gets the reminder it needs in God's perfect timing. Let that shit go,,,,let the rain wash it away and then put on my boots and stomp in some puddles!

The Dude part 2

I was right. He WAS on his way out and now he's gone. I don't think it was for someone else necessarily. Maybe it was just for himself but the end result is the same. I am alone again. This time I'm angry. Angry that he played me and bargained against my feelings. Angry that he made himself a part of things, of memories he had no right to if he didn't intend to stay. A dear male friend of mine told me that guys do exactly what they want. They only want women to think they're adorably clueless. That way they're not the bad guy. No one wants to be the bad guy right? If it's being a bad guy to pull someone's covers then fuck it I'm it. I'm the bad guy. It's so easy to just be honest that it's difficult apparently. Be honest with yourself first and then maybe you can be honest with someone else. Here's my truth. I am scared of being hurt, lied to, played. As a result of that fear I don't trust easily. I did trust this time. And all the things I was afraid of happened. I think the victory was in simply trusting again, regardless the outcome. That was progress for me. Thanks Dude. Next time it'll be more than a friendship turned sexual. Next time I'll be valued for all of who I am and whoever he is will be honest enough with himself to be honest with me. 

Anchors away

Third cup of coffee, fuzzy socks and funky two day worn sweats seems like the right get up to watch "Made of Honor" and run down the list of things I can't forget to take to my sons going away party. He's leaving for bootcamp in 9 days. NINE DAYS until my number one son will leave home forever. Yeah...I'm being dramatic but this is big shit. This young man changed my life. This is the best stress I've ever been under. Anxious for all the right reasons. He's a good boy. A little too like his father sometimes and not in the ways I would've chosen if I could have fished qualities out of his gene pool. My son is also half me. He carries with him the best that is in me and some of the not so great too. He's perfectly himself and I'm sure he'll do great. I worry about him alone on a ship floating in the ocean God knows where. Who will he meet on his journey? Will they be good people? Will they lead him astray? It's out of my hands. I've taught him all I can and I can only hope it's been enough. For now.... I finished the decorations. Made the scrapbook and all that's left to be done is celebrate the amazing young man I call my son.  

That kind of love

2:32 in the morning...I can't sleep. Two cups of warm milk haven't worked. Afraid to take melatonin since I need to be up in a few hours. Instead I'm writing and watching P.S. I Love You and crying. Not even sure why I'm crying except that my heart is sore and it has been all day. I watched a beautiful wedding ceremony today. It hurt. I remember being so sincerely in love before. Wide awake in the middle of the night I wonder if I ever will be again. I have ... I think,  but not being able to tell the other person how I feel makes it hard to tell. When you're twenty something and in love it's easy to just be in love. You float along on it ...the emotion carries you across your days. When you're in your forties its different. You're scared to tell the other person. What if they don't feel the same way? What if they do? When I was younger it seemed like all I had to do was decide which person and head off in that direction. Maybe if I packed up my insecurities and damage from the past it would still be that way.  What I have found is that all the directions I've headed in turned out to be dead ends and I'm tired of hitting my head against the wall. I watched those two gorgeous people pledge their vows and all I wanted to do was to freeze that moment, make it so things NEVER changed for them. Don't mistake me, I'm not jealous of new love, old love, real love. It is a beautiful thing to see and as horrible luck would have it, I miss it.
I do have a lot of love in my life - family, friends, my beautiful kiddos but I want THAT love again. The kind that makes you feel like anything is possible just cuz he called today. The kind where you spend hours not doing much of anything but it's perfect. Where he is concerned for you as much as you are for him. Until I find that again I'll keep on keeping on and wait for him whoever he is. Hopefully he's tall, loves the same music I do, digs my kids, the same sports teams as me, or at least isn't an Angels fan, loves his family and his friends and is fiercely loyal. Too much?
Who knows...I may die waiting.