Dr Strangedate, Part 4: The Groupie and One Drink Disasters.

After the general disaster of my first OKCupid date, I decided to be a little more cautious. I wasn’t going to fall into the same traps I found myself in on that first experience. I would get to know the prospective date before agreeing to meet. At the very least, a week of phone calls and emails would be my rule.

Sifting through their site is a challenge. You can never search very close to home, they only allow you to search at a minimum of 25 miles. So instead of all local singles, I would end up with a handful of people in my area and the rest would all be from the North Shore and Boston area. This was a little frustrating at times, but I figured at the very least the site was helping me expand my horizons. Foolishly, I was still under the impression OKCupid had my best interests at heart. Oh, I was so naive.

I quickly broke my own rules by agreeing to meet for drinks with someone after only one email. A pattern emerged rather quickly with the “meet for drinks” dates. Starting with a casual response to my ad and quickly suggesting we go for a drink, somewhere in the middle and neutral. And since most of my matches showed up from the North Shore and Boston, even meeting in the middle was a bit of a hike. But all of these meet and drink dates ended the same: going our seperate ways, both dissatisfied with the experience. I was always early, waiting at the bar. I could always recognize the date from their entrance: standing in thedoorway, scanning the room with an expectant smile. Then, they saw me….and one of two things happened: an outright look of “ewwwww” or that pained, forced smile, the kind you reserve for your Uncle when he tells a raunchy and inapropriate joke at a funeral.

A couple went so far as to make eye contact with me but quickly look away and rush out the door. One even texted me after dashing out the door, explaining that she couldn’t make it to the restaurant due to her inability to get a babysitter. I messaged back “Do you live in the parking lot?” She never got back to me. One woman I met for dinner in Newburyport, which is actually rather close to me. We had great conversation, a few drinks and even some dinner. I thought we were having a lovely time. At the end of the meal, she gave me a big hug and when I suggested getting together again, she started laughing loudly. “No thanks, I think I’ll pass!” There was a distinct tone of “ewwww” in her voice.

During all these disastrous little dates, I had met a woman on the site that I thought I had connected with. Her name was Emily and she grew up with the same crowd I hung out with: punk rocker kids hanging in Harvard Square. Yeah, I used to be one of those punks, black mohawk, combat boots and trenchcoat, the whole halloween costume, just lounging around Harvard Square. I have always lamented the fact that I lost touch with all the great people I used to know back then, not to mention all the bands I counted as friends. And it turned out, Emily knew all the same people! She was like a lost connection to my forgotten past. I was dying to meet her but I decided to wait. We talked, emailed and texted for almost two weeks.

Her favorite restaurant just happened to be my all-time favorite place in Boston. The Border Cafe on Church St. was just beyond my favorite movie theater to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show (which you can read about in an older post about my adventures in the square https://glassowater.wordpress.com/2008/08/03/im-a-rocky-horror-fan-or-lets-do-the-time-warp-again/ ). I had been dining there since the day they first opened their doors. Anytime I find myself in Harvard Square, you can usually find me there at some point. It all seemed so perfect. We were so alike. What could possibly go wrong?

I planned the day according to my previously established rules. Instead of meeting her outside the city, we decided to meet at the restaurant. This gave me a plausible excuse to disapear if I had to. We had spent 2 weeks chatting, so it was well established we had much in common. Our activity together was dinner at our mutual favorite restaurant of all time followed by Newbury Comics and other such window shopping activities, with a trip to Faneuil Hall planned for the latter part of the day if time allowed. I had planned the perfect OKCupid date. Right? Escapes routes, mutual interests, lots in common, what could go wrong?

I waited in the bar at the Border Cafe, watching the door. It was a cold and blustery February day in the city. Emily knew how to make an entrance: the door blew open and she swept into the room, a flurry of flying scarfs, her long coat billowing in the breeze. She took off her woolen hat to reveal platinum blonde hair streaked with purple. Scanning the room, she found me immediately and smiled. Not a forced smile, but a genuine giddy smile. And holy crap, she was so much cuter than her pictures suggested: big smile, beautiful eyes framed by librarian girl glasses. I was won over in seconds. She came running up to the bar and gave me a hug and smooched me on the cheek.

Wow, this was starting out well…..

We sat down for dinner. I immediately start talking about music. I figured this was a good place to start since we both loved music so much. I start mentioning all the bands I used to know, the people I hung out, the guys at TAANG! Records who used to have their office in the square, bringing up all the little connections I knew we had. She smiled and laughed as I talked about the old times. Finally, I asked how she met everyone from these bands, people I called friends back in the days of the old punk scene. Her response? “Oh So-and-So? I fucked him.” She then proceeded to recount, in rather colorful and descriptive language, all of her sexual conquests. “I sucked his dick, fucked that one, had a three way with them”… I quickly realized something: she wasn’t a friend of any of these people, she was a professional GROUPIE!!  Her list didn’t end with my friends, oh no. She started to recount, in graphic detail, every band she has gone back stage and serviced over the years. I was a little horrified. Is this really dinner conversation? Telling your date that you screwed, sucked and cornholed your way through all their friends? What would the future hold for such a coupling? Every time she said she was going to a concert, do you sit home with a portable STD testing kit so you can swab her and run some tests as soon as she gets home?

Once The Groupie got a foothold in the conversation, she never stopped talking. The rest of dinner sounded like this:

“Me me  me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me…. you? Me me me me me me, etc”

I could not get a word in edgewise. I felt battered into hanging out with her because there was never breathing room for me to object or to implement my escape plan. At one point, we were standing on a platform waiting for a train and as it approached, I seriously considered just leaping in front of it just to make her shut the fuck up! Finally, outside Faneuil Hall, I got a moment to myself, texted a friend to call me. We faked an emergency and said our goodbyes. She kissed me on the cheek, saying it was nice to meet me. I dashed off for the Goverment Center T station, but first I made a quick stop at CVS. Alcohol swabs were on sale that day…

Vacation Day Trips: Castle In The Clouds

I haven’t had a vacation in a long time and part of me wnats to sit home and do nothing for that week and part of me wants to cram in everything I’ve been dying to visit for a long time now. So I came up with a compromise: day trips. Each day, I plan on traveling either near or far for some daylong fun.

First up:

Castle in the Clouds

I love this place. I have been here many times throughout my life. The first time we went there, it was a 1st grade field trip. Not the wisest of decisions on my elemtary school’s part. I can almost imagine the meeting before they approved this field trip:

“Ok, let’s take all the first graders, hype them up on sugar and take them on a long bus ride to this beautiful castle in upstate NH and make them go on a long tour through a dark building! What could possibly go wrong?”

I’m sure they meant well, but come on? Bunch of kids cooped up in a bus for hours then let loose on the grounds around this castle? Chaos and hijinks ensued! I think this was the first field trip where someone got left behind…actually serveral someones who had managed to get lost and hooked up with another tour group instead of ours. The other tour group, upon realizing we had left these kids behind, did the right thing and drove them back to your school. This was the 70’s where mistakes happened and if it was rectified in a satisfactory manner, nobody ever said a word. Can you imagine if that happened now? Somebody would be suing somebody’s ass that day!

But I digress…. Since that first ill-advised encounter with this place, I have grown rather fond of this odd attraction in the white mountains. I’m a history buff and have always loved the story behind how and why this was built here, fully restored from it’s original location.

I’ve always been fascinated by the fact that while all these tours are going on, there are people living in the house! That is amazing to me. I can barely stand having relatives over to my house and here are these people who open their house to total strangers, allowing them to wander through at will, near all the antiques and the other things they hold near and dear to their hearts. They are obviously far better people than me.

While I am there, I will do my best to get some original photographs. The one I used, I got off Flickr…yup, I cheated. 🙂 Check out the link if you would like to learn more about this fascinating little slice of New Hampshire history.

A Conversation with Myself

I have had this conversation in my head for a week now and I wasn’t sure how to write it out. First I tried it like an interview. That was okay, but I quickly realized that the format really lent itself to theater. So I reworked it as a one act play. I haven’t done writing for the theater in years. I left out all the stage directions so as not to bore everyone to death.

Special thanks to Maleesha who offered me some helpful editing. Your suggestions rocked!!

A Conversation With Myself.
A Play in one act.
Written and copyrighted by George Parnell, 2009.

Setting: Bare stage with a desk. One chair behind the desk and two in front. A single spotlight shines on the center of the scene.

ME: Heart? Thanks for coming in today. We need to have a serious talk….

HEART: Really? What’s troubling you George? You seem upset and worried and…

ME: Ok, look…I know you are my heart and it’s part of your shtick to be all emotional and caring and worrying about me, but I have to ask you to just stop and listen to me for a minute.

H: ok….

M: I have to ask you for a big favor…

H: I will do what I can.

M: I need you to stop chasing after these hopeless and pointless infatuations.

H: Um, stop? You do realize that’s part of my job description right?

M: What do you mean?

H: Well it says right here in my Terms of Service that as your heart, I have free reign to blindly go forward, chasing after the dreams that you and your rational mind may deem unnecessary and distracting. By this contract, I have the right and the mandate to pursue the very things that you are afraid to pursue.

M: Don’t you understand that what you do is……..

H: What I do is necessary and you have no recourse or ability to reign me in.

M: Wait, wait…slow down here… You don’t have to quote from the Employee Handbook for George, ok?Now, I know full well what your function is. And, may I say you do a fine job.

H: Thank you…that’s touching…

M: But what you have been doing lately? You recent activities have been detrimental to the whole company, so to speak. Your ambitions and activities have caused me more than a few sleepless nights…

H: That’s just you over thinking…

M: Let me finish. You have been going in 100 directions at once. We need to find a way for you to have a little focus and perspective and…

H: Focus and perspective??? Pssssh! That’s your job! Intellect and rationale? That’s all you! Me? I am governed by whimsy and lust. I find what you desire most and then your job is to sort out the details.

M: But while you fixate so much on the impossible and unattainable, I find myself missing out on perfectly good opportunities around me. We need to work together.

H: No we don’t. Without me, you would have no dreams, no aspirations and no hope.

M: Ok, that’s a little extreme…

H: Is it really?

M: I think so, yes.

H: Hmmmmm… And what “opportunities” are you missing out on around you? Do tell…

M: Well,  for starters, I ran into an ex girlfriend the other day….

H: Wait wait wait wait!! Is that what this is about? You run into an ex girlfriend and you think I should have felt something? Is that it?

M: Well, yeah….I mean, did you see what she was wearing?

H: Noooo! For Crying out loud! Don’t you remember? We have been down that road already with her and in case you didn’t notice, I still have the scars….

M: Oh she didn’t break you that bad….

H: Typical! And you wonder why I don’t return most of your calls… Do you really want to give her the opportunity to put us through the ringer again? Really? I’m sorry; I’m not with you on that at all.

M: Well, it was just a thought, but definitely a far more realistic thought than your ambitions. Why are you so weak for anyone with red hair?

H: It’s not a weakness and I think you and I both know it’s not just red hair. It’s a smile, the way she cranes her neck, a soft giggle….

M: Allright, settle down…

H: I’m just sayin’….. And it’s not just the redhead. You know what I’m talking about….

M: Hmmm?

H: There’s the blonde….

M: Mmm the blonde, *sighs* She is really sweet…

H: And don’t forget that sales girl you fell head over ass for….

M: See that’s different, she at least goes to the same bars I go to…

H: And then there’s that brunette…. Rawr! She just rocks your little world, doesn’t she?

M: Ah yes, the brunette….Well, to be honest, yeah she definitely leaves me a little breathless….but wait! That’s not the point!! You are getting me off track again! Look! Bottom line is this; I want you to come on board and work with me. I want a goal that’s attainable.You don’t have to be all logical like me. Baby steps, my friend. If we work together, maybe we can work towards some of your goals and some of my goals and find a happy medium.

H: But you see, that’s completely against my nature. My purpose here is to be that ridiculous driving force behind your ambitions. I have to give you outlandish goals, aspire for love from unattainable women, and make your pulse race every time you catch a glimpse of red hair. I give you that excitement when you see your name in print when your art is being shown someplace. I’m that swelling of pride when someone compliments you on your writing or a painting.

M: Huh?

H: I am your core.
It is up to you to decipher and discover what you truly want. If I stopped doing my job and didn’t present you with hundreds of directions, as you put it, where would that leave you? No ambition, no hope. Sure, you have some sleepless nights because of me and yes, I know that love and lust and dating are complex issues! But when it comes to matters of the heart, the Handbook clearly states, “It’s complicated”.

M: Really? The hand book just says that?

H: The heart wants what the heart wants and there’s nothing you can do about it.

M: But don’t you see? That’s the very heart of the problem!

H: …….Very funny. Oh you and your whitty puns….

M: Sorry, no pun intended. It’s just that I want things to be neat and organized. I want to meet someone, fall in love, get married and live a little of the American dream. But because of all your distractions, I can’t!

H: Am I that distracting?

M: Are you kidding? Lets have a look at what a typical day is with you:  Let’s paint this week! Think I’ll try my hand at writing! Oooh  I got a new camera! I must be a photographer now! Let’s ignore the bills and go waste money on art supplies. Hey, Best Buy is having a sale! New Computer! Oh and don’t get me started on the women! A simple smile or a kind word from anyone of the female persuasion and you are off to the races, my friend. You seem to tell me that every positive gesture, a touch, a smile, a kind word is some sign that she’s interested.

H: But what if they really are interested and you are just selling yourself short, like I’ve been telling you for years now.

M: ……. I hadn’t thought of that.

H: And that’s why you need me. Ha

M: Ok, I get it. But you have to work with me. I can’t have you running off all the time. I swear, you are worse than a three year old sometimes. But instead of “Hey look! Shiny!”, it’s “Hey look! Breasts!” and you are off being distracted from what really needs to be done. Can you at least agree to try to work with me?

H: Well, I guess I could fixate more on their legs and asses if that would help…

M: Hold onto that thought. What I need you to do is to limit the amount of time we spend distracted by red hair and breasts and smiles. Do you remember the time we got on the wrong train in Boston and ended up on a nonstop train to Braintree all because you were distracted by some red hair?

H: Ok, that story is so old it deserves a place in a retirement community…

M: The point is, let’s work together.

H: ……..I don’t know….it goes against everything I stand for….

M: Please? I’m begging you here….

H: I can’t make any promises. I am driven by your deepest desires. Sometimes, I’m going to disappoint you. Sometimes, I’m going to let you down. You have to accept that we are often at cross-purposes.

M: I can live with that as long as you agree to keep those distractions to a minimum just so I can  attain a few of my short-term goals without being sidetracked. Deal?

H: Deal. But please, for both of us, do NOT call that ex girlfriend again. That would be embarrassing for both of us I think.

M: Fine. But don’t blame me if passing on the opportunity to get laid causes me to stare uncontrollably at the bouncing bits at the gym.

H: You want to be the creepy staring guy at the gym now?

M: Shut up, that’s not what I meant.

H: Sure, but you may want to speak to the Id about that.

M: I know, he should be here anytime now. I told him we were having this meeting….

ID: You wanted to see me?

M: Yes Id, thanks for coming and FOR CHRIST’S SAKE! Would you please pull your pants up?!!!!

ID: Sorry, I was surfing the web for porn earlier and….

M: Allright! Allright! Now look Id, sit down, we have to have a serious talk…..

Middle Cyclone by Neko Case: A Review

Ok, I know what you are going to say: George found himself another redhead to obsess over. And yes, Miss Case is gorgeous and a redhead. That aside, her latest album Middle Cyclone has completely blown me away.

Let me back up a bit.

About 4 years ago, my ex told me about this musician she loved named Neko Case. She prefaced that statement by saying, “You’ll love her. She’s a redhead.” Now for most people, that would seem like a harmless statement. A matter of fact statement describing the hair color of an individual, plain and simple. I knew better than that.

Whenever the subject of other women ever popped up in a conversation, even something as silly as discussing hair color, was a dangerous mine field of neurotic worries and complaints that inevitably led to a fight. One false move and BANG “I’m not good enough!” and BOOM “You want her!” A smile at a waitress and BANG “You must be sleeping with her!” Polite and chatty with the check out girl and BOOM “Is she your next date??”

And commenting on the beauty of a singer, any singer, no matter how ridiculously out of my league or sphere of influence meant that I simply MUST be actively trying to track them down so I could dump her and sleep with them.

Yup, she was a delightful little ball of Italian craziness. I know it’s weird, but I think her unpredictability was one of the reasons I loved her. It was entertaining to talk her down from her neurotic psycho episode and making up, well, that was always the best part. But living your life on a minefield, always unsure if the next thing you said would trigger a massive fight, that wore thin after awhile.

So when she mentioned that Neko Case was a redhead, I immediately shut down all interest in the conversation. I declined her offer to listen to her cd and even passed on a chance to see her live, all to avoid a massive blow out of a fight that I knew would come if I had shown interest in front of my ex. Secretly, on my own, I went and checked her out on my own online.

I’m not a country fan. Never have been.

Most modern country music annoys the hell out of me with it’s simplicity and jingoistic “America Fuck Yeah” attitude, and the incredibly depressing cry in your beer, sleep with your sister and go watch NASCAR reputation. But there are elements of the country sound that I love, elements that soar above the mundane and create something that can touch us all universally and not just the niche market of modern country music. The term “Alt-Country” has come into popularity in the last decade or so to categorize this sound.

Wilco, Neil Young, Lucinda Williams, Whiskeytown, Uncle Tupelo, Southern Culture On the Skids, Palace Brothers, Old 97s and even rockabilly and psychobilly bands fall into this category from time to time, although psychobilly definitely leans more towards it’s punk influences than it’s country inspired roots. My love for this know-it-when-I-hear-it genre of music has helped me appreciate artists like Johnny Cash, Patsy Cline (early recordings) and even the subtle influences of artists like Buddy Holly, Jerry Lee Lewis, Carl Perkins and especially the influence of Sun records on the defining sounds of country, blues, rockabilly and, of course, rock and roll.

When I was finally able to check out Neko Case, I fell in love. Her voice, sometimes grating, sometimes demanding, sometimes soaring and angelic, sometimes accusatory but always entertaining, captured my heart. Her lyrics, with their dark overtones, touch the perfect balance between bitterness and light, an ambiguous place that allows her voice to tell you the context, not just the words.

Middle Cyclone starts off with This Tornado Loves You, an appropriate begining. A song about love as a force of nature, strong and undeniable and yet, the subject of her affections is in denial, refusing to believe. And no matter how frenzied or powerful an emotion is, even if it has the power of a tornado, it can be deflated and defeated by a simple act of denial. This sets the tone for the album, a strong set from beginning to end. Songs of unrequited love, loss, frustration and hope, this album has the impression of an artist in a middle ground emotionally, lost and searching for something to hold on to, but the songs reveal that despite all of this, she is a confident and powerful creative force.

Her style on this album definitely still falls into the alt-country genre with some elements of indie pop, folk and even a little motown sound mixed in. I heard it, don’t mock me! 🙂

Her voice is at times heartbreakingly beautiful with an undercurrent of frustration and even hostility. The Next Time You Say Forever contains the memorable lyric “The next time you say forever, I’m going to punch you right in your face.” That one sentence tells a whole story by itself and thats what I love about her. On the title track, she laments “Someones made a fool of me ‘fore I could show them how it’s done.” The title is perhaps directly misleading, expecting a raucous song like Tornado, we get a soothing meditiation on unrequited love.

I could easily go track by track and mention every little aspect that spoke to me: a key lyric, a note, a reverb of a guitar, the sigh in her voice. There are few things to pick apart on this album. I will say that my only true complaint here is that some of the songs are too short, almost feeling incomplete, but it works within the themes and confines of the song. Like all good things, they must come to an end and some of these songs, you just want to go on and on. But I admire that about her writing: she gets the point out, never overstays her welcome and leaves you begging for more.

Yup, I’ve found a new redhead to obsess over, just wish I could have found her sooner….

37 and Still Feeling Frisky

Yup, it’s official: I’m 37. Part of me wants to discuss aging, growing older and wiser and what the future holds for me and my place in the world. Part of me wants to create a poetic treatise on aging, love and good friends. All noble intentions of my creative mind.

The rest of me wants cake.

Think I’m heading out for cake and ice cream. Diet be darned! I’ll hobble my way through the day loaded up on cake.

Sometime this week, I’ll write something reflective and introspective but right now, I hear chocolate calling me.

PS: Quote of the day from one of my co workers:

“37? Really? Happy Birthday! You are officially invisible to women under 30! Congratulations!”

Casual Sex or Clean Up in the Shoe Department

If I saw you, I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye today.

I had a sex dream about you last night. There’s no way to be coy about it. No way to make it seem like something else. This wasn’t a cute romantic dream about holding hands, cuddled on the couch, watching movies with the occasional kissing and snuggling.

Nope.

This wasn’t that at all.

The dream began innocently enough. We were walking through the mall, talking about some new job you had. Apparently, in my dream, you can’t hold down a job and this was your latest career. I don’t remember the details but I think it had something to do with quality control at a university someplace, which really doesn’t make any sense. I mean seriously, what does “Quality Control” at a university really mean? I think my dream version of you is just making shit up…

As often happens in a dream, the scenery changed abruptly. First we had been walking through the food court area of the mall. Emo kids where strewn about everywhere, wearing their latest pre-fab uniforms from Hot Topic. Is it really emo and punk to hang out at the mall? Really? And why do you all look the same? Maybe it’s a product of getting old and being an old punk rocker, but kids these days, the ones who pretend to be so punk, they all look the same. Same skinny jeans, same ill-fitting shirts, same “Hot Topic” tags. I seriously cannot understand the concept of that store. Punk, at it’s core was and has always been a DIY experience and yet, if you want your musical and political statements pre-printed for you, here’s a store with all the essentials. For Fifty bucks, you too can look like a punk rocker or an emo kid! Way to go kids! Way to dumb it down even further…

Yeah, I do rant like that in my dreams too… J

But I digress…we were walking through the food court and suddenly we were at the entrance of JC Penney. You took my hand and smiled at me. For the first time, I noticed you were wearing a tight fitting t shirt that accentuated your frame rather lovingly. You caught me looking and poked me in the stomach.

“Come on,” you said. “We have to hurry. I have church in the morning.”

I smiled at you, thoroughly confused by this statement.

You pulled my hand and lead me through JC Penney. I was completely puzzled…even in my dreams, I’m absolutely clueless. You lead me through to the mens shoe department. Did you know that JC Penney has a new feature in their shoe department? I guess this must be standard in all their new stores. Apparently, they all have a secret door in the back that opens up right into my bedroom. I wasn’t aware of this new feature until you opened the door and dragged me through.

Surprisingly, I had remembered to make my bed and tidy up my room before I left for the day. In the dream, I must have more free time.

You wrapped your arms around me and kissed me. For a moment, I was melting. The world froze and I could feel the heat of your body against mine, the taste of your lips, your tongue. You pulled back suddenly. A devilish grin came across your face.

“You are too gentle.”

With that, I felt your foot scoop around the back of my legs, taking my feet out from under me and I crashed backwards onto the bed.

That’s when you pounced.

What transpired from there, I humbly must leave to your imagination. I can say that there was a whirlwind of activity, involving positions of all imaginings and even a few that were against the laws of nature and a few that I’m sure were illegal in several states. In the end, the bed was broken, the tv had a bed post through it, all the paintings on the walls were askew, the mattress was on the floor and you and I…you and I were in a broken sweaty heap on the floor. I was gasping for breath and you were giggling at me, half covered in one of my old t shirts. How did you find my old Cure Tour t shirt? I thought that was lost 20 years ago? I snuggled in with you and for a moment, for one quiet moment, I felt content.

You poked me in the belly again, teasing me about my weight.

“I have to go” you said “and you have to wake up.”

Thats when I heard my alarm.

For a few brief moments, in those milliseconds between sleep and smashing my alarm button, I could still feel the smoothness of your skin, the brush of your hair across my face and neck, the taste of you on my lips. Then you were gone. The illusion was broken and I woke up alone in my room. I looked towards the door to my bedroom half expecting to see the hustle and bustle of a JC Penney shoe department but I was disapointed to just see the hallway, my cat wandering towards me, demanding some attention.

I spent today wondering if I should tell you. How much is too much sharing when it comes to friends?. I know I’m only a friend. But part of me wants something more and I’m not sure how to reconcile that.

The dream was intense, playful and extremely x rated. There were things you did that I would never have expected from you. If I told you, would you have a good laugh with me about? Would we kid each other about positions we should have tried in the dream then just carry on as we always have? Would you recoil in horror or would you jokingly admit to having something of a similar dream? Would you be able to forgive my imaginations lack of discretion? Do you feel the same way? Or am I alone in this, deluded by my own overactive and undersexed libido? I’m happy being your friend, but is that all there is? I know it was only a dream and I know where my boundaries are, but part of me can’t wait to go to bed tonite and go shoe shopping again….

A Teeni Interview

Teeni asked. I answered.

1.  Why did you cry on September 5?

Several years ago, on September 5th, I had a bad day. That was the day I had to admit defeat, wave a little white flag and end a 3 year relationship. I had never broken up with someone before. Usually, I’m the one being kicked to the curb, the one left with unreturned phone calls, empty dinner tables… But, for the first time, I was the one saying “We need to talk…”

I couldn’t stop crying afterwards. Felt like my heart had been ripped out, I couldn’t catch my breath and I had a ringing pounding headache for days afterward. I know I did the right thing (the situation had reached a stalemate/standstill that was never going to be resolved and I wasn’t willing to just blindly ignore all the problems and pretend to be happy) but that was the most difficult decision I have ever had to make. It broke my heart.

2.  If you could open your own restaurant, what type of food would you serve and what type of clientele would you like to see enjoying your food there?

Oh what a great question! Anyone who reads my blog, knows I love to cook. I ran restaurants for years and the idea of opening my own place is a dream I would love to realize. I do alot of cooking for my friends and according to them, I should open up a restaurant of comfort foods, specializing in breakfast foods and diner staples. My friends are what you may call “stoners” and, even though they know I don’t smoke and I rarely drink, according to them, I’m a stoner at heart because of my cooking skills and the “strange” recipes I make up on the spot. Aparently, my cooking imagination has a stoner spirit.

A simple example:  I made chocolate sundaes for everyone one night…I took  some chocolate fudge bread from When Pigs Fly bakery (thick chocolate flavored bread with chunks of chocolate spread throughout) chopped into large chunks and toasted it all in the oven. The toasted chunks were tossed into a bowl, topped with ice cream, fruit, sauce and whipped cream. I would love to feature this recipe on a menu….and what would be the name of  my “stoner” diner?

“4:20“, of course! For those not familiar with stoner culture, ask a stoner sometime what 420 means… Course the ultimate irony of this restaurant would be that a guy who doesn’t smoke pot at all was running it.

And I think a name like “4:20” would be vague enough so as not to alienate any other potential clientele. And I would specialize in big food, huge portions and outrageous recipes. Most of my menu would be high impact on the calories (no such thing as light french toast, you know) so I would need to bring in a partner to work on the lighter side….any takers??

3.  Tell us a little bit about your pet cat.

Thomas is a great cat.

The cat I had before him was a refugee from an abused home. His name was Ebony and he loved the outdoors, only coming inside when it was raining or too cold, but even then, he made at least one daily jaunt outside. In his old home, he had obviously been abused. The first few months I had him, he refused to come near me. He would come in the house and sit in a corner meowing to himself. He was so skittish and seemed so upset all the time, didn’t know what to do. Finally, I spent a day with him and he came to me and jumped in my lap. After that, he was the perfect cat. He let me pick him up and he would curl up like a little baby in my arms. If I was working on the computer, he would jump up in the chair, climb to the top and warp himself around my neck and sleep with his head on my shoulder. I would wake up with him curled up on the pillow next to me. The ex used to hate that!

Poor Ebony. He loved the outdoors too much. He disapeared one night. I found signs of a struggle behind the house. Ebony’s black fur mixed with orange, red and white fur, tell tale signs of a fox. I was heartbroken.

For a year, I vowed I was done with pets. Then, I suddenly found myself wandering through the animal shelter. I don’t know what brought me there. I told the people working there that I was only looking. I walked into the cat room. There were 20 cats in there, all of varying colors and ages. I noticed a black short hair cat standing on a runner (carpeted ledge that ran the length of the wall). I smiled because he looked just like Ebony. The cat must have known I was looking at him because he came running towards me. The runner was right at head level for me. I was now face to face with this black cat. He was purring loudly. I reached out to pet him and he headbutted me right on the forehead. I laughed. I hadn’t picked out a cat, the cat had picked me.

I found out his name was Thomas, adopted him right then and took him home the next night. Thomas is not as overtly affectionate as Ebony was, but he is friendly with everyone and especially seems to adore me since I wake up almost every morning with him next to me or at the foot of my bed, waiting for me to click on the tv. He seems to be a big fan of the flickering images on the screen.

4.  I peeked into your blog a bit and want to know under what circumstances were you kicked by a horse?  There has to be a story here.  😉

A friend of mine in high school had a barn we used to party in. The farm was fairly isolated and we would have bonfires outside and such and party rather loudly in the barn til the wee hours of the morning. On one such night, my friend G and I decided to taunt the horse that was stabled in the barn.

We were just being loud and obnoxious and being rather obliterated at the time, we were not thinking about the consequences of pissing off a large animal. The horse, after about an hour of us taunting and teasing it, decided he had enough of our foolishness. The horse turned around in it’s stall. We were leaning on the gate that had the horse locked in and I remember thinking that the horse was going to pee on us or something, so I started to step back when the horse suddenly kicked. The gate, as it turned out, had a rather flimsy lock on it. The lock broke and the door rocketed open with enough force to send us both flying across the barn. I had been moving away from the door but my friend G was hit full force by the door. He ended up with bruised ribs and a concussion. I smacked my head on a post a good 10 feet away and ended up with a huge knot on my head and some bruises all over. We were lucky that door was in the way of that kick….

5.  Just what is it about redheads?  Do ALL redheads, even the bottled ones, have the same appeal?

I really think my fascination with redheads started when I was a little kid. My first kiss in kindergarten was with a redhead. Ok, strawberry blonde, but still….

Bottled or natural,  red hair has always caught my attention. I can spot a redhead at 100 yards. And yes, I have actually stepped onto the wrong train in Boston when I was distracted by someone with red hair. Not to mention the times I’ve almost crashed my car due to redhead distractions.

As fascinated as I have been by redheads, I have only ever dated the bottled variety. The natural redheads have always eluded me. Sadly every redhead relationship has ended in disaster. Usually I’m being dumped and discarded by the redheads in my life. And recently, I have even been used and abused by redheads. Despite all this, I still find myself looking, still find myself drooling a little. I still can’t tell you why… Maybe I have a masochistic relationship with the idea of redheads: no matter how badly I’m treated, I keep going back for more…

Hmm…wonder if theres a blond or brunette out there to distract me from the redheads….heehee. Actually, I can think of at least one…but thats a blog for another another time….. 🙂

So, do you want to be interviewed? Here are the rules:

1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Edited to Add: I was lazy and found all these pics on Photobucket. To my shame, I realized I don’t have any pictures of my cat, so instead of finding him when I wrote this and taking his picture and uploading it, I blatantly stole some pics from Photobucket instead…sorry, should have added this note to begin with. I take no credit for any of these pictures….I love that horse pic though! 🙂

Moments of Joy and Other Sublime Silliness

I have been feeling way too adult lately.

Deadlines. Meetings. Quotas. Bills. Taxes. Registration of my new car. Spring cleaning looming on the horizon.

It’s all been adding up to a whole heck of a lot of stress thats been bearing down on me for the last two weeks. I need a reason to be happy.  Surfing the blogs the other day, I came across the beautiful Miss Shepherds entry and felt a little inspiration. My mind started it’s own list of natural highs and moments that bring me joy.

1. Walking along the beach on a warm night, my toes sinking into the wet sand, the waves around my ankles.

2. Lying on the sand on a summer night, listening to the beat of the waves.

3. Making an elaborate meal for my friends when they are down.

4. Planning and cooking a huge meal for an event (Thanksgiving) and having it all come together perfectly.

5. Sinking into the couch on a cold day, wrapped in a warm blanket with a huge mug of coffee and a stack of dvd’s.

6.  Stealing a few minutes on my break to drive down to the beach and watch the waves for awhile and let my mind decompress a little from the stresses of the day.

7. Planning a road trip with my fellow ‘road warriors’ to see the bands we love.

8. Having a total geek moment and walk into a comic books store and talking all things X Men and Dark Knight and all things in between with fellow recovering geeky nerds like myself. Once in awhile, the nerd has to be let out!

9. Walking through the toy section at Walmart and seeing all the neat and highly detailed toys, secretly wishing I was a little kid again….

10. Picking up a book I haven’t read in a long time and falling into it’s pages like putting on an old sweater: comfy and warm.

11. Losing 8 hours of my life wrapped up in a video game. I realize some would see this as a waste, but sometimes getting lost in a little fantasy land is what my brain needs. And before you say “Go read a book”, I do read darnit and nothing compares to seeing your character run through that fantasyland and directing the action yourself. Don’t hate. 🙂

12. Having some song from the 80’s pop on the radio that I haven’t heard in a long time causing me to dance joyously. Melt With You and Rock Lobster are two songs that always make me giddy.

13. Having the lead singer dedicate her next song to me. I always get a little weak in the knees when that happens.

14. Being a dj and playing the music I love and actually having listeners. I truly miss this. When I was a dj at Keene State, I loved knowing people were listening.

15. Music Geek moment: going into a record store and ending up in a conversation with a total stranger about whether Trent Reznor sold out, or if the latest Ani Difranco album rocked or sucked or who was on tour and what shows we have been to, etc, etc, ad infinitum.

16. The smell of fresh brewed coffee.

17. The smell of my kitchen when I have been cooking up a storm.

18. The smile of a stranger who caught me glancing their way.

19. Playing with my camera and photographing the little things in my life.

20. Giving and recieving a hug when I least expect but when it was most needed.

21. When my rockstar friend tells me I’m one of her favorite photographers. I’m humbled that anyone would consider me a ‘photographer’, but for that to come from my friend who has been through professional photshoots for magazines and her own promotional work, I think I must have blushed three shades of red. Makes me want to take photography a little more seriously….

22. A moment of silence with friends. Not an uncomfrotable silence, but a sort of silent soldarity where there is nothing to say and we are content and comfortable with each others company and don’t have to fill each moment with talk.

23. Seeing a band for the first time, the thrill of hearing new music and a new voice.

24. The smell of laundry fresh from the dryer.

25. A clean house.

26. Getting in my car, loading up on music or books on cd, hot cup of coffee in hand, picking a direction and just going. No destination, no cares, no worries. Just me and the car driving as far away as possible.

27. The experience of a ‘destination’ restaurant. Picking a cuisine or restaurant from a review either online or on a Foodnetwork/Phantom Gourmet/Travel Channel reccomendation and going for their signature experience. I have a list a mile long of everything from greasy spoons to haute cuisine that I want to experience. Anyone up for a little road trip???

28. Sucking out a flush or a straight on the river and cleaning out my friends at the poker table when I was sure I had made a mistake by going all-in on Jack/Ace suited. Yup, I play way too much poker…..

29. Waking up to find my cat nuzzled into the crook of my arm.

30. Las Vegas! I loved that town when I visited in 1999 and been dying to go back ever since. I felt like a kid in a candystore there! A very adult candystore, but nonetheless….

31. Holding hands with someone for the first time, that fumbling of fingers and palms, finding how your hands fit together.

32. A first kiss, melting into each other for the first time.

33. The unspoken dialogue of eyes and movement, knowing someone so well that you know what they are thinking without ever speaking a word.

34. Hugs that linger and last too long, conveying more in that moment than words can capture.

35. WordPress Geek: Checking my stats and seeing what people are reading…I do this all the time. Makes me smile to see what people like.

36. Chocolate, especially dark chocolate.

37. Going to a wine tasting and being suprised by some obscure shiraz,  merlot or pinot noir that I had never heard of.

38. Catching up with an old friend and laughing about how much time has passed and how old we are getting.

39. Realizing how much your friends and family really care about you.

40. Successfully writing out 5 more moments of joy than Pam. (Couldn’t resist putting a little competitive spin on this)

The Only Thing I Read in the Local Paper (A Bit of a Rant)

The Portsmouth Herald is a friggin joke.

There, I said it and I’m not taking it back. Pardon me while I go on a rant here.

I don’t care how many ‘awards’ they win, their news coverage is atrocious. I like a good hard news lead in. Thats what captures my attention. A good solid headline to grab hold and make you want to buy it. I’m a big believer in the all but forgotten integrity of the printed word, the news reporters out there investigating real news, solid stories that grip your imagination and inform you not only on the big headline, but the minutiae of the story. I used to read the paper every day…but never the local paper.

The Portsmouth Herald has been a joke for years now. I can’t count how many times it has let me down. No lie and I’m definitely not making this up, their idea of news has verged on tabloid / Access Hollywood style. Lots of flash that quickly runs out of gas. Who cares if some consenting adults are having sex parties at their private residence? Did you really need to do an investigative report on them and name them on the cover of your newspaper? What kind of Puritan shaming was that? And on a day when we had major flooding in this state, your choice for a headline was a cat stuck in a tree?? Really? That was the hot button topic of the news room? And anytime anyone local does anything, you seem to think it’s front page news! On a day when the US reported the hugest job loss report in ages, your cover story was a human interest bio on a mentally challenged man who was finally getting his first job?

Sidenote: I have nothing against the mentally challenged individual, he’s actually a really great kid and everyone who lives here knows the guy, and yes, as a community, I’m sure we are all proud of his accomplishments. That aside, how is that a front page story when SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO much more is going on in the world??? HOW???????

So on princicpal, I refuse to spend a dime on their paper. But what I will do is check out their web page. For such a total wreck of a newspaper, their website is quite well designed and thought out. The emphasis again is less on hard news and more on human interest, dining, local music, theater, arts and opinions and that I can handle because when I’m on the web, I can surf past the BS, find the stories and articles I want and not feel like I got ripped off for 75 cents.

One of my favorite articles caught my attention a few years ago and I have been a fan ever since. Single On The Seacoast is Heather Mackenzies view on the dating scene here in the lovely state of NH. Her opinions are witty and her attitude is quite jaded and thats probably why I love her writing. She always finds a way to sumarize everything thats wrong with dating, self image and attitudes and put a hopeful spin on it. I like that. Finding a small shimmering bit of hope at the bottom of the dating well. She gives me a little hope that maybe it’s not all as bad as I think. Maybe there is a way out of this dating hell I’ve been in for so long.

So despite all my protestations, despite my rant about the lack of “hard news” in the Portsmouth Herald and in spite of myself, I’m  going to a news website for the one thing I hate about the actual newspaper: FLUFF. Human interest, editorial, columnist FLUFF. And I love it. I go back each week for her latest article…..

Guess I’m getting soft in my old age…. 🙂

Here’s a link to her latest article:

http://www.seacoastonline.com/articles/20090129-ENTERTAIN-901290321

Thrift Store Heart

Crossroads.

I find myself here, staring across the expanse and wondering how I got here. A lonely road, converging with another. Staring in four directions, not sure which one to take. I planted my heart here at this intersection, hoping to watch it grow and perhaps catch the attention of another on their journey. I’ve seen the headlights in the distance, but they always seem to turn off before they reach me. I built a home here, I built stability and constance hoping the lights of hearth and home would bring you to me. I filled the intersection with cars, music, art, travel, more books than anyone could ever want. Philosophy, arts and science on one corner, a warm kitchen, a comfy couch and bottles of wine on another. All this I made, all this I built. All in the hope of meeting you. And here I wait.

Part of me thinks it’s time. Time to tear it all down, pack it all up in a U-Haul and move on down the road, away from this lonely, quiet intersection. I look at what I have built, the life I have chosen and realize no matter how much I have here, no matter how much I invest in here, it all means nothing without you. That destructive and spontaneous part of me considers lighting a match, watching it all burn and take the well worn road and try to find that turn off where I see your headlights go. Give up. Ignore my accomplishments. Ignore my pride. Ignore me. Leave my crossroads like a turn of the century mill town: slowly rotting and falling apart.

But….

I can’t do that. Too many responsibilities, too many attachments. So I repair the buildings here: a new roof for my income, a new car for my ego. The kitchen is a little more crowded than I like, the couch a little lumpier than I like, but I make do with what I have. Maybe it’s time to open a little thrift store and it’s time to sell off some aspects of my little life here. Maybe, less is more. And maybe, just maybe, while I’m tending shop at my new store, I will finally meet you. Then this little crossroad won’t feel so desolate.

I planted my heart here hoping it would bring you to me. Now I realize that I have to be willing to uproot my heart and break away from my routines if I ever want a hope of meeting you. But everything comes in baby steps and a thrift store, selling off the gently used aspects of my heart will help ease into that uprooting. I’m ready, I’m willing. The shops open.

Where are you?