1. a compliment from a stranger
2. Robyn's "Dancing on My Own"
3. lending someone a ride
4. playing
5. fall's crisp air
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Friday, September 28, 2012
Mysteries
Becoming OK is a constant journey. It really is. For me OK is a success sometimes. It's all you can ask for a lot of the time, and most of the time that's where you're at. And that's just fine. It's OK. Just OK, spectacularly OK. Ok?
But there's this inkling of wanting to "fix" it. Let's just get this out there: I think fixing things is dumb. Of course, fixing (aka maintaining) something before it's broken, that's fine, but once something is broken, it can literally never be what it was before. It will always be slightly unstable. You will always remember that time when it was broken, especially the moment right before it collapses from beneath you, leaving you on the ground wondering what the eff happened. Had you known it was broken would you have sat there? Was the sit right before a good sit? Usually it was just OK, but you only realize that after. And that's not OK.
I'm reminded of a chair I used to have in my kitchen. It was a wooden Baker chair I had inherited from my aunt who had inherited it from my grandma Bette. It didn't quite fit in with the kitchen, more for a dining room, but I made due, because that's what you do in your twenties. Anyway, last Thanksgiving my roommate and I had friends over to celebrate, and somehow or other the chair was sat on, and later was broken. And it was fine. No one died. It was just broken. It was just a chair that used to work, and didn't anymore. Fine. Whatever. What wasn't fine was that we later "fixed" it, and still that chair broke again. A nice enough chair, but still, just a chair that you have for a while, and have to rethink having. And it sucks, doesn't it? Having to get rid of things that used to work?
Ah, metaphors.
But there's this inkling of wanting to "fix" it. Let's just get this out there: I think fixing things is dumb. Of course, fixing (aka maintaining) something before it's broken, that's fine, but once something is broken, it can literally never be what it was before. It will always be slightly unstable. You will always remember that time when it was broken, especially the moment right before it collapses from beneath you, leaving you on the ground wondering what the eff happened. Had you known it was broken would you have sat there? Was the sit right before a good sit? Usually it was just OK, but you only realize that after. And that's not OK.
Ah, metaphors.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Wilco. Concert #6. Hideout Block Party.
I have no idea how this happens
All of my maps have been overthrown
Happenstance has changed my plans
So many times my heart has been outgrown
-"You Are My Face," Wilco
Public Transitioning
The air this morning felt rude against the back of my throat, pushing and scratching something that didn't deserve to be bothered. Like a CTA passenger, pressing against its neighbors, forcing itself upon unwilling fellow riders. We're all victims on the train. This is the worst time of year to be riding the train. To be fair, all times of year are the worst to be riding the train. Everyone's bundled up, scarves on some, coats on others, and still more that didn't quite get the memo that summer's over, barelegged and begging for a burst of heat, uncaring if it's from the fart emitted from their neighbor. You know the scene well.
But truly. It's the coughing that gets me. The uncovered mouth, uninvited into the air -- an uncouth start to a sick filled season. Fall should be a perfect time of year, watching the earth move quickly. But instead it's too often something else. What you once knew and had gotten so accustomed to is suddenly over and all you have to show for it is your body's literal rejection: the cough. Spitting out and hoping to heal what's still salvageable. I get you, Fall.
And as the train screeches to a halt, and you arrive at your destination, you're either happy it's over, or you've somehow figured out a way to enjoy the ride. I'm still waiting for that part.
But truly. It's the coughing that gets me. The uncovered mouth, uninvited into the air -- an uncouth start to a sick filled season. Fall should be a perfect time of year, watching the earth move quickly. But instead it's too often something else. What you once knew and had gotten so accustomed to is suddenly over and all you have to show for it is your body's literal rejection: the cough. Spitting out and hoping to heal what's still salvageable. I get you, Fall.
And as the train screeches to a halt, and you arrive at your destination, you're either happy it's over, or you've somehow figured out a way to enjoy the ride. I'm still waiting for that part.
 |
| loop bound |
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
An Excerpt from a Conversation that Deserves an Audience
Me: So, I'm not some needy scared lady.
Laura: Hey, the older you are when you get married, the less chance you have of getting divorced. That's optimistic and not depressing, right?
Me: HAHA. Good call. Not there, but that deserves to be a sketch -- titled "The Cheer(?) Up."
Laura: Now that your cat died, you won't have to worry about the kitty litter affecting your unborn child!
Me: Too bad you lost your job, now you can finally move out of that mansion you always wanted to downsize from!
Laura: Too bad you have cancer, but you'll be so skinny from barfing!
Me: I love ya
Curtains #2 & Victories.
We got a new shower curtain. Well, not we. I came home to the sweetest roommate treat that isn't edible a few weeks back. I've been in awe of it. Every time I'm in there. Regardless of the task at hand, I stop in silent adoration of this lovely black and white floral drape. The shower curtain is there. Sleek. Stylish. Simple. The ole triple "S." Oh, black and white. Oh, oh, ohhhh. The simple victory.
A friend of mine dates her boyfriend long distance and has done so for a while now, aka over a year. She told me that he's currently on rotation (he's a doctor, of course, he is) in Michigan this week -- and now they're in the same time zone. She lives in D.C. The simple victory.
Monday morning I drove up to Lake Forest to spend time with my momsie. She suggested a trip to J.Crew's sale rack. Sneakily she picked up a cute trendy green purse, asked me my opinion, and then just got it. She put it, wrapped with a sweet "Enjoy this Brigid. Love, Mom" note in the back seat of my car, for me to find later. Just a thoughtful miss. The simple victory.
Last week I won Saturday Night Live tickets. The simple victory.
A friend of mine dates her boyfriend long distance and has done so for a while now, aka over a year. She told me that he's currently on rotation (he's a doctor, of course, he is) in Michigan this week -- and now they're in the same time zone. She lives in D.C. The simple victory.
Monday morning I drove up to Lake Forest to spend time with my momsie. She suggested a trip to J.Crew's sale rack. Sneakily she picked up a cute trendy green purse, asked me my opinion, and then just got it. She put it, wrapped with a sweet "Enjoy this Brigid. Love, Mom" note in the back seat of my car, for me to find later. Just a thoughtful miss. The simple victory.
Last week I won Saturday Night Live tickets. The simple victory.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
The Flip Side
This year has been really hard. Incredibly hard. Sure, I'm not trapped under a real life rock, or anything, but it felt that way sometimes. I didn't get in one bike accident this year, but two (and the year's not out!). The flip side: I went 25 years without breaking a bone.
From start to last there has been a looming feel of what I will hereon refer to as "unsurity." At the risk of revealing myself too much, between January and February I felt really alone. I finally got a full-time job at the Goodman, but it was all in reverse and cut deeply into family time, friend time, relationship time and performing time. It's since gotten more manageable, but there's still this feeling of not exactly liking where I'm at. Unsurity. The flip side: now I really am alone, and that's making room for me.
Then the first bike accident happened. I was back from what ended up being a difficult trip to Mexico, not quite the recharge I had hoped for. Then the day after Valentine's Day I get nailed by a car door and find myself even more hampered on crutches for a few weeks. If one more person says to me, "Four weeks? That's not so bad," I will murder you. You have no idea (unless you do), so don't tell me what it is that's appropriate or not to go through, especially if it was not my own failure that caused said accident. Let me nail your ankle, and then have the audacity to say your recovery time's not so bad. The flip side: I got to go to Mexico, and I don't actually hope anyone gets in a bike accident, and I'm more empathetic now.
The seesaw then came and went with a successful trip to New York with my favorites, The Grrr, improv team performing at the NYC Improv Festival -- combine that with the Second City inviting me to join their Conservatory ranks, and we've got the makings of a joyful spring.
And it was. Still, there was an inkling, and always is, that I'm not doing enough, or trying hard enough, or working enough, or getting paid enough, or in a successful enough relationship. It's a spiral, and I try to steer clear of it. Work began really getting hard with the hour changes, going from working in the mornings to mostly evenings. I forfeited performing opportunities and the feel of free time. Relationships and friends were unintentionally tabled. The flip side: I know I'll never feel like I'm doing everything I'm supposed to be doing, but I have hope that eventually I will.
The stress of all of this made me an unenjoyable person on the whole, I'm convinced. June had me turn into the latter half of my twenties, and of course, that feeling of being 26 and nothing more was just part of the tailspin. The flip side: at least I'm not in the latter half of my thirties, or in any of them for that matter.
July brought on performances, and thank god for them. Finally part of something bigger than myself. But, maybe the upswing was not as high as I thought. The thing of it is, when your expectations are low and you're in the midst of everything, it's hard to realize. The flip side: you get out of it.
But of course, August and September could easily be considered the worst months of my adult life so far. The flip side: I didn't die...
For the sake of continuing this festival of feelings, let me paint a picture for you to feel bad about. My relationship ended, I watched my roommate's also end, then I flooded my kitchen and the apartment below me, and, oh yeah, literally fractured my pelvis in three places. Life. Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me? Are. You. Kidding. Me?
The flip side: I'll find someone else, so will my roommate, water dries, and bones heal.
From start to last there has been a looming feel of what I will hereon refer to as "unsurity." At the risk of revealing myself too much, between January and February I felt really alone. I finally got a full-time job at the Goodman, but it was all in reverse and cut deeply into family time, friend time, relationship time and performing time. It's since gotten more manageable, but there's still this feeling of not exactly liking where I'm at. Unsurity. The flip side: now I really am alone, and that's making room for me.
Then the first bike accident happened. I was back from what ended up being a difficult trip to Mexico, not quite the recharge I had hoped for. Then the day after Valentine's Day I get nailed by a car door and find myself even more hampered on crutches for a few weeks. If one more person says to me, "Four weeks? That's not so bad," I will murder you. You have no idea (unless you do), so don't tell me what it is that's appropriate or not to go through, especially if it was not my own failure that caused said accident. Let me nail your ankle, and then have the audacity to say your recovery time's not so bad. The flip side: I got to go to Mexico, and I don't actually hope anyone gets in a bike accident, and I'm more empathetic now.
The seesaw then came and went with a successful trip to New York with my favorites, The Grrr, improv team performing at the NYC Improv Festival -- combine that with the Second City inviting me to join their Conservatory ranks, and we've got the makings of a joyful spring.
And it was. Still, there was an inkling, and always is, that I'm not doing enough, or trying hard enough, or working enough, or getting paid enough, or in a successful enough relationship. It's a spiral, and I try to steer clear of it. Work began really getting hard with the hour changes, going from working in the mornings to mostly evenings. I forfeited performing opportunities and the feel of free time. Relationships and friends were unintentionally tabled. The flip side: I know I'll never feel like I'm doing everything I'm supposed to be doing, but I have hope that eventually I will.
The stress of all of this made me an unenjoyable person on the whole, I'm convinced. June had me turn into the latter half of my twenties, and of course, that feeling of being 26 and nothing more was just part of the tailspin. The flip side: at least I'm not in the latter half of my thirties, or in any of them for that matter.
July brought on performances, and thank god for them. Finally part of something bigger than myself. But, maybe the upswing was not as high as I thought. The thing of it is, when your expectations are low and you're in the midst of everything, it's hard to realize. The flip side: you get out of it.
But of course, August and September could easily be considered the worst months of my adult life so far. The flip side: I didn't die...
For the sake of continuing this festival of feelings, let me paint a picture for you to feel bad about. My relationship ended, I watched my roommate's also end, then I flooded my kitchen and the apartment below me, and, oh yeah, literally fractured my pelvis in three places. Life. Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me? Are. You. Kidding. Me?
The flip side: I'll find someone else, so will my roommate, water dries, and bones heal.
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