Category Archives: blather

Coming up for air…

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My latest tattoo: turtles

When they go through the safety announcements on airplanes, they always talk about making sure that–in the event of cabin depressurization–you secure your oxygen mask before helping others to secure theirs. For those who find this confusing, the issue is that it’s assumed you can’t assist others with putting on their masks (especially if they’re panicked and struggling to breathe) when you yourself are panicked and struggling to breathe. First things first, you have to get YOUR oxygen supply under control. Then, you’re far more able to settle down and calmly help those around you.

Lately, I’ve been a complete ball of stress. The usual stress at work has been multiplied a few dozen times, and the kids continue to grow at an impressive pace. With growth comes…well, all sorts of stress that physical and emotional growing pains induce. In particular, I’m watching dd closely and seeing her frustration at the boundaries that we’ve set for her (bedtimes being too early by her estimation, for example). In other words, it’s the usual stress of having a full-time job and having kids. Being an active parent is exhausting.

So, I do have stuff to say and mostly I’m just trying to figure out how to say it. I won’t talk about work here. Period. It’s off-limits. I also have to respect some boundaries about what I’ll say regarding the kiddos. There’s a point at which I don’t want to violate THEIR privacy, and they’re certainly entitled to some of that, too.

For now, I’ll just say that I’m happy I have fresh ink on my wrist (got that lovely artwork featured above just this past weekend, while visiting my BFF in Pittsburgh) and I’m working hard to climb my way out of my current stress-hole. Let’s just say that I’ve been watching and rewatching Marvel movies. A LOT. There’s something just so compelling about the escapism of completely improbable scenarios, hopelessly attractive people, and happy (enough) endings. Fresh ink, fresh start.

2016: it’s time to become more awesome…and remember how to breathe.

{interlude} In Memoriam – Why David Bowie will live forever for me

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A little more than 20 years ago, I spent a few glorious months of my high school senior year working at the local record store. Nothing feeds a music addiction like having a discount on every single purchase.

I had been a David Bowie fan for YEARS by this time.

“Modern Love”

“Ziggy Stardust”

“Space Oddity”

“Changes”

“Ashes to Ashes”

…the list goes on and on.

And then Ryko re-released Bowie’s catalog–on CD, now–an incredible outpouring of accomplishment on plastic for all of us to consume. A massive box set, “Sound+Vision”, was released, as well, out of the reach of my meager earnings but enough for me to covet. When Bowie came around on tour not long after, proclaiming this the last time he’d play those songs in concert, I knew I had to get tickets.

My friend and I grabbed lawn seats at Merriweather Post Pavilion, and we enjoyed the pleasant weather and soaked up some Bowie. I don’t remember the order in which he played the songs except that “Heroes” and “Ashes to Ashes” were back to back. So much yearning. So much sadness. It was impossible not to cry listening to him.

Over the years, as my musical tastes have expanded and contracted and expanded yet again, David Bowie remained one of the constants. He even bled into my watching habits (“Labyrinth”, “The Man Who Fell to Earth”, etc.). It’s not possible for me to watch “Velvet Goldmine” without thinking of him, even though only the titular song is his (well, that and the inspiration for several characters).

Most recently, “Moonage Daydream” was featured in Marvel’s “Guardians of the Galaxy”. The song easily became a favorite of the kids, as the soundtrack was on perma-repeat in my car for months on end. At one point, when my son needed to do a fashion show for me, showing off what of his clothes fit and what needed to be handed down to a friend’s son, he requested music. “Ziggy Stardust” was his pick, and he gleefully danced and partied to the incredible music as he tried on outfit after outfit.

On my ride home from work yesterday, I fished around on my radio as I drove in a pure funk over the hole in my heart. One of the satellite stations was playing “Space Oddity”, and the RDS on my radio alternated between saying “David Bowie / Space Oddity” and “He’s Up There / Isn’t He?” I cried and cried.

Sure, I never met him and I only knew him through his art. But his music spoke to me in ways that set him apart from so many others. No pop tart or vapid boy bander, here; he was freaky and avant-garde and never–ever–boring.

Maybe you don’t ever truly appreciate someone until you know they’re gone, until you realize the definition of “finite”. I’ve had too many reminders of that in the last few years, thanks to cancer (which also took Bowie).

And so it is with great sadness that I bid adieu to the man…but never to his music. Never, EVER to that.

RIP Ziggy </3

Losing weight 185lbs at a time (New Year’s Resolution time)

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Weight loss is such a funny thing. We talk so much about how we want to shed pounds so we can meet some ideal of what our bodies should be–based on a government chart or a magazine or what some “public figure” on reality TV tells us. In reality, this is something that you measure by your health: are you doing what you can to be healthy? That doesn’t mean losing weight is a meaningless effort, but sometimes I think we focus too much on the wrong numbers. And just like it’s often frustrating and unfulfilling to chase the latest number set out by <insert magazine or celebrity name here>, in our constant efforts to lose, lose, lose, we forget about the weight gain we take on all the time that is unhealthy.

I’m talking about the emotional weight of the people we need to let go.

As I scrolled through my personal Facebook feed the other day, I came across a picture from high school. It was a view of the stands at a Homecoming football game–the one that we won!–and it took me a while to locate myself in this sea of people. I found one of my friends in our “group”, and from there it was easy to spot the rest of us in the row. I looked at my younger self, sitting there next to the boy who was my date for the dance that night, and his body was turned away from me as he talked with the girl on the other side of me.

Something struck me about that picture: that pose was a metaphor for the entire relationship I had with him throughout the three years we knew each other as friends and (occasional) more than friends. It was always someone else. It was always <that girl over there>.

This was a defining relationship for me; our on/off trainwreck was the longest relationship I had during my formative dating years, and it set the standard for how I would see romantic relationships and myself in them. I let my self-worth be measured by the amount of attention I received from someone who, to be perfectly frank, treated me like crap. I was happy when he would show me attention–not really willing to see that I was only a temporary stop for him on the way to anything better. I was frustrated but willing to submit to his unwillingness to be public about us being together when we were together, because it was either that or nothing. I should’ve taken nothing.

And so it is, that when I get the perennial friend request from him on Facebook, I hit the delete key with such impunity. I’m not that person anymore–that person who doesn’t believe she’s worth enough to deserve anything better.

That kind of spinelessness isn’t good when you’re a teenager, but in your 40’s? Come on, already.

Thus, my only “resolution”, if it even has to be named such a thing, is to be willing to let go of more people. I learned a few decades ago that it’s okay to let go of people who only add misery to your life, the ones who add weight to your soul and expect you to carry around their sadness–making themselves feel better by adding you to the truly screwed up collective. It’s okay to say goodbye and not look back.

So I resolve to “mute” people more. I resolve to “defriend”. I resolve to “unfollow”. I resolve to walk away from conversations on Facebook or Twitter (or in person!) when the other person isn’t actually listening to facts and only wants to hear the sound of their own virtual voice yammering.

And I get that there are those who’ll look at this post and say, “Pot-kettle-anyone?” Sure, I yammer. But this blog is about me and my journey, and those who choose to join can do so at any point. Or not. It’s not about them. People change over time, or at least they’re supposed to, and where I was even a few years ago isn’t where I am now. I fully expect the same of many people in my life. Taking stock: If I miss you but you don’t miss me (or vice versa), then we weren’t what we thought for each other anyway. Not anymore, at least.

Social media has the power to bring us together, but sometimes it seems like there’s an undercurrent of pressure to connect with more people than truly needed. I’ve heard it said that the number of our true friendships contracts as we age, and whether it’s due to a lower tolerance for bullshit or a general sense of not having much in common with so many people, I just don’t know. But I can say that it is okay to let go when it doesn’t make sense to keep clinging to those who make you less happy.

And that’s what I intend to do.