Holy shit. It's coming.
I've been having some long talks with my all-time BFF this week. She's quiet and lovely and keeps things to herself; in our 20+ year friendship, I have seen her cry maybe twice. So when she called and was wavery in the voice, I knew the news was not good.
However, there are two sides to it...it's never good when a long relationship ends, but good comes out of it if you end up happier, right? And she is. The last three conversations we've had about it were more about the weight off of her shoulders, the joy in her heart at not having to pretend anymore, and hopefulness, which has been missing from her beautiful face for far too long. I just love her to death, and I think now we are going to make some serious plans to spend the second half of our lives closer to each other. Our friendship is Hallmarkable fo shiz, since we became very fast friends at an early age and even though she moved away 6 months later, we have always stayed just the way we were to each other when we were fourteen. She truly is the most precious gift I've been given.
Her birthday is next week. She is the first of my childhood friends to turn 35, and now I am OBSESSED with it. Next Wednesday, the day before her birthday, marks exactly three months until I turn 35. Thirty five. Thirty. Five. I have been fine with every other single birthday I have ever had. This one, not so much.
First of all, I have a lot of things/ideas associated with this impending number. I was 12 when my mother turned 35, and shortly thereafter she freaked out and left town with our tv and all of my childhood things packed into the back of an Oldsmobile I would inherit when I got to college. I have three 'Plans B' in effect for when I turn 35 with three different boys. If they all work out, look for some polyandry on N. 14th St come July, though I doubt I can actually lay claim on them. I have to stop smoking and start having annual hoo-haw lookie-loos and breast exams. My children are more likely to come out retarded, if I have them at all. My skin will be less pliable, my wrinkles deeper, my hair thinner, my ass fatter, my chance of every single disease in the world increased ten-fold, and I'll probably have a full beard within a week. Basically, I expect to wake up on July 1 looking like my grandma.
Of course I know this isn't true. And I promised myself a fantastic birthday gift. Maybe this sounds insane, but when I turned 18 and had my first tattoo, and the long-lost Teshannon and I were smoking cigarettes in a parking lot while picking off the dried blood, I said to her, in a conversation I recorded plainly in my journal at the time, "Tanna", because that's what I called her, "If I am not married or am divorced at 35, I am gonna have this turned into a sleeve that covers almost all of my arm." "Why?" she asked, to which I replied, "Well, the only reason to not get a sleeve, really, is so that you look good in your wedding dress, right? And if I haven't worn one by then, I'm probably not going to. So, why not get a great big tattoo to commemorate it?"
Voila.
2009.
35 years old.
Made the appointment today.
It's gonna be the best part of this birthday, and to be honest, I can't wait. :)
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
It's Friday, I'm in love...
Ah, these glorious, glorious days when everything is okay.
1. It's cold, but sunny.
2. The Pillowman is reminding me that I do, in fact, LOVE to direct.
3. Reservations are made for the coolest wedding I will ever go to.
4. Private, but I'm smiling about it like I'm r-tarded. (Also, I'm trying to catch that on; it's pronounced, 'are-tarded'. I think it's a kindler, gentler version of retarded, and also, it is nice for Pirates.)
5. Flat out, I LOVE love Michael Jackson's music. Fuck who knows it.
6. This weekend, I am going to put my bed into a frame with a real headboard. Like a grownup.
7. I bought that headboard with an excess of cash, some of which is still available. I could even go out to eat, drink freely, and buy shoes in Marquette if I wanted to .
8. My friends. Seriously.
9. The hopefulness that new people bring to me. Especially when they come and sit at the bar for HOURS while I am working and engage me in what can only be described as 'canoodling'.
10. Itunes on random.
11. Severed prop toes and the fact that I rule at making them.
12. Still liking my mom.
13. Giving a cat to the girl who is dating the guy from 5 posts ago, which is excellent because he hates cats and once she has one, it means they are not ever planning on living together. Plus also, the doctor told me to thin out the herd or it may contribute to me nearly dying again.
14. The following lyrics: When the easy wind blows, they let their sails fill up and drink a hot cup of family....singing, "If I'm not strong enough, will you help me? And if I get tired, will you lay me down? And if I can't stand you no more, will you walk out my door or will you wait till I come around?' which were written by someone I know.
15. Rachel, who looks SUPER great from running, and who makes me want to run.
16. And Fridays.
1. It's cold, but sunny.
2. The Pillowman is reminding me that I do, in fact, LOVE to direct.
3. Reservations are made for the coolest wedding I will ever go to.
4. Private, but I'm smiling about it like I'm r-tarded. (Also, I'm trying to catch that on; it's pronounced, 'are-tarded'. I think it's a kindler, gentler version of retarded, and also, it is nice for Pirates.)
5. Flat out, I LOVE love Michael Jackson's music. Fuck who knows it.
6. This weekend, I am going to put my bed into a frame with a real headboard. Like a grownup.
7. I bought that headboard with an excess of cash, some of which is still available. I could even go out to eat, drink freely, and buy shoes in Marquette if I wanted to .
8. My friends. Seriously.
9. The hopefulness that new people bring to me. Especially when they come and sit at the bar for HOURS while I am working and engage me in what can only be described as 'canoodling'.
10. Itunes on random.
11. Severed prop toes and the fact that I rule at making them.
12. Still liking my mom.
13. Giving a cat to the girl who is dating the guy from 5 posts ago, which is excellent because he hates cats and once she has one, it means they are not ever planning on living together. Plus also, the doctor told me to thin out the herd or it may contribute to me nearly dying again.
14. The following lyrics: When the easy wind blows, they let their sails fill up and drink a hot cup of family....singing, "If I'm not strong enough, will you help me? And if I get tired, will you lay me down? And if I can't stand you no more, will you walk out my door or will you wait till I come around?' which were written by someone I know.
15. Rachel, who looks SUPER great from running, and who makes me want to run.
16. And Fridays.
Monday, March 9, 2009
How I Quit Smoking
Ah, it's nearly spring. Sure, we have a whopper of a storm on the way yet this week, which is PROBABLY not even the St. Pat's Extravaganza we usually enjoy, but still, it's coming. I bought plants, seeds, and garden extras online today, and am planning a marvelous display of agricultural fortitude this season. Of course, I always do. Really have some cool plans to try this year, though, and maybe have chickens again. I loved it.
I was planning this charming blog entry this week, and have been thinking on what to write for two weeks. Spring is in the air, I might be in mutual like with someone, I have some money, I got to see my girls this past week...things are great. The Full Monty is over. It was a smash hit and I have been super careful about only taking the credit due me on it, but now that only three people are paying attention, I'm going to go ahead and say that I fucking rocked that shit. It was the biggest hit we've had in years, and the only show that rivaled it in attendance over the past five years was One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. And that's all I'm going to say about it.
School is fine, I'm in love with my mom all of a sudden for the first time ever, and aside from some nagging laziness that's been pulling at me whenever I have a spare minute, I've been feeling joyful and happy.
However, (and here's the deep dark twist) I very nearly died last week. I am prone to drama, as I am well aware, so let me preface this story by saying that I am not exaggerating it, and I was so scared of doing so that I asked the doctor and two nurses if I really was as bad off as I felt, and the answer was a definite, if amused, yes. I really, really, really almost died. And it was as jarring as you'd think times about a trillion.
I guess I always assumed that I would have my life flash before my eyes, cry at the injustice of it, think of all the things I hadn't done, regret a thing or two, think of my parents, think of my friends, etc. But none of that happened.
I wasn't even going to write about this because it's so goddamn upsetting everytime I think of it, but I have to tell someone, and even if no one ever reads it, at least it's said. Here's the thing...it was just a black, sad, sucking, acute, stabbing....lonliness. And had I have kicked it right then, feeling that indescribable drowning aloneness, I'd never be resting in peace. A soul can't possibly fade out like that...it's petrifying. It's not fair. I knew the EMTs that were in the ambulance, but they don't KNOW me, you know? And I couldn't breathe to cry, so I just laid there, strapped down, thinking, "This is my last breath. THIS is my last breath. THIS is my last breath" with every little gasp, and these tears were pouring out of my face and I kept looking at the two of them for some connection to stave off how singular I felt in the world at that moment, and the only thing I thought of was Dodge. Seriously. My fucking dog. And it was only for a second. The rest of it was just, "please don't let this be the last thing I feel. PLEASE." And I wasn't asking anyone in particular, no God showed up at the last minute (although I guess it wasn't REALLY my last minute) like I thought might happen, I was trying to convince myself to think of something, anything, that wasn't so lonely. But I never did. And then my oxygen normalized some, I started breathing with a little depth, and 45 minutes and 3 IVs later, I was the proper color and texture and able to stand up for xrays to find out that I had a particulary bad pneumonia that I had been ignoring.
There's more to it, but basically, I'm haunted by the lonliness thing. I've heard that it's like that before..everyone dies alone, you know? I mean, when you're born, you're coming OUT of another person, so even though it's something you technically do by yourself, you're WITH someone the whole time. But dying is different. Even if you're surrounded by people who love you, who KNOW you, who will stay with you until it's done, it's about the only thing that you absolutely do by yourself. And when that moment comes where you either fade out or decide to let go...what if that really is what it feels like?
I was planning this charming blog entry this week, and have been thinking on what to write for two weeks. Spring is in the air, I might be in mutual like with someone, I have some money, I got to see my girls this past week...things are great. The Full Monty is over. It was a smash hit and I have been super careful about only taking the credit due me on it, but now that only three people are paying attention, I'm going to go ahead and say that I fucking rocked that shit. It was the biggest hit we've had in years, and the only show that rivaled it in attendance over the past five years was One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. And that's all I'm going to say about it.
School is fine, I'm in love with my mom all of a sudden for the first time ever, and aside from some nagging laziness that's been pulling at me whenever I have a spare minute, I've been feeling joyful and happy.
However, (and here's the deep dark twist) I very nearly died last week. I am prone to drama, as I am well aware, so let me preface this story by saying that I am not exaggerating it, and I was so scared of doing so that I asked the doctor and two nurses if I really was as bad off as I felt, and the answer was a definite, if amused, yes. I really, really, really almost died. And it was as jarring as you'd think times about a trillion.
I guess I always assumed that I would have my life flash before my eyes, cry at the injustice of it, think of all the things I hadn't done, regret a thing or two, think of my parents, think of my friends, etc. But none of that happened.
I wasn't even going to write about this because it's so goddamn upsetting everytime I think of it, but I have to tell someone, and even if no one ever reads it, at least it's said. Here's the thing...it was just a black, sad, sucking, acute, stabbing....lonliness. And had I have kicked it right then, feeling that indescribable drowning aloneness, I'd never be resting in peace. A soul can't possibly fade out like that...it's petrifying. It's not fair. I knew the EMTs that were in the ambulance, but they don't KNOW me, you know? And I couldn't breathe to cry, so I just laid there, strapped down, thinking, "This is my last breath. THIS is my last breath. THIS is my last breath" with every little gasp, and these tears were pouring out of my face and I kept looking at the two of them for some connection to stave off how singular I felt in the world at that moment, and the only thing I thought of was Dodge. Seriously. My fucking dog. And it was only for a second. The rest of it was just, "please don't let this be the last thing I feel. PLEASE." And I wasn't asking anyone in particular, no God showed up at the last minute (although I guess it wasn't REALLY my last minute) like I thought might happen, I was trying to convince myself to think of something, anything, that wasn't so lonely. But I never did. And then my oxygen normalized some, I started breathing with a little depth, and 45 minutes and 3 IVs later, I was the proper color and texture and able to stand up for xrays to find out that I had a particulary bad pneumonia that I had been ignoring.
There's more to it, but basically, I'm haunted by the lonliness thing. I've heard that it's like that before..everyone dies alone, you know? I mean, when you're born, you're coming OUT of another person, so even though it's something you technically do by yourself, you're WITH someone the whole time. But dying is different. Even if you're surrounded by people who love you, who KNOW you, who will stay with you until it's done, it's about the only thing that you absolutely do by yourself. And when that moment comes where you either fade out or decide to let go...what if that really is what it feels like?
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