Strangeness & Charm

Birthdays are fun. Even the ones that happen after you've reached the major-fun milestones. Last Wednesday night, on the eve of my 31st, there was much (much) whiskey to be had, and some utter silliness with markers and skin-canvas. My original plan of rocking out to some much needed karaoke with my friends was foiled by an unexpected IRS seizure of my favorite bar. (Oddly, these things seem to be just par for the course around here. The universe mocks me). So the night home far exceeded my expectations, as did my body's absorption of Gentleman Jack. I awoke on my day of birth still slightly drunk, but very happy. So it completely blew me away when Mr. Anti-Stepford dropped a birthday bomb on me: I was going to Boston that night to see one of my favorite bands, Florence + The Machine, with one of my favorite people.

Now, I'm eclectic to say the least. But the common thread of the music that I listen to and enjoy is that I *emote* to it. Good, bad or indifferent, it tugs at my heart strings and gut in a fundamental way, and Florence and her Machine are no different. The woman is ethereal and fierce, with a powerful voice and sense of atmosphere. Her lyrics are intelligent and metaphorical, and even her "love" songs are dark and dreamy in all of the right ways. Want chills up your spine? Go listen to "Heavy In Your Arms" or "Blinding". No really, go ahead, I'll wait.



see? what did I tell you?

Suffice it to say that I near to died of excitement (or the raging whiskey induced hangover I now had. Or a combination of both) and the show was amazing. I highly recommend the Pavilion in Boston - its a great intimate venue.

The night was liberating, invigorating, and thought provoking. While I'm still struggling with the highs and lows of depression, I have hope that this summer will resolve itself into a more concrete state, one that I'm familiar and comfortable with, that still challenges me, yet doesn't defeat me. The next big milestone will be getting my mobility back, which will change so much in my world right now. Its only 19 days away, but who's counting? I daydream of driving down a sun-dappled winding road, wind in my hair, iPod blaring. This will be one of the first songs I play:

It's a long hard road outta hell...

Where did a year go?

I'd love to say I was living the fabulous life, full of escapades and poignancy (which, in retrospect, I was to some degree) - but the majority of the past year has been spent in a dark pit of despair called DEPRESSION.

Admitting this is a double edged sword. It is a huge burden off of my shoulders to realize that I'm not insane, something is *indeed* wrong with me, and I am a little crazy. Wait, what? You get my point. First step to conquering a problem is admitting you have one. And admitting it means conceding that I have weakness, and need help from those I love to triumph over this hard time. The stigma alone gives me anxiety, which I have plenty enough of. No, surely not the queen of beer and laughter? Not the girl with the infectious laughter and quick wit? Yeah her. And it realizing that I am all of these things, I realize that the people most important to me don't give a flying shit if I'm having a crazy day, a morose day, or a spasdically happy day. They love me anyway. Screw my perfectionism. My flaws are what make me me. And flawed I shall be.

So that being said, your plucky friend, The Anti-Stepford (cue hero music) is returning for another valiant go at this here mess of a blog. I hope you're still interested - I've certainly got a metric shit-ton to say.

Now the year certainly wasn't all doom and gloom, all the time. Jane Siberry's "It Won't Rain All The Time" wasn't on repeat (okay, maybe the occasional shuffle) and there were some definite amazing times to be had. I got to sing with one of my best friends in her band, returned to work (left/returned/left... that's another story), laughed and loved with my husband, and created art and writing as well as gamed and drank whiskey. (Gentleman Jack and I are on the outs right now, as it were. Cheeky bastard) I even miraculously managed to make some new (INCREDIBLE) friends! AoA, you have been a lifesaver.

Mainly, I was lucky enough to watch the Youngling grow from a toddler to a full-fledged little boy. Lanky arms and legs and infectious laugh, any trace of the baby he once was is gone. My uterus weeps. (Fucking Uterus!)

But there were also some pretty dark points, some lows that its been tough to rise past. And I realize that while I enjoy writing, and being the quirky narrator of my happy little shit-show for you all, I have failed you. Yes, dear readers, I grovel for forgiveness - because I lacked the one thing I needed most. Honesty.

A plasticene smile and iron resolve that everything is OK FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK! walled me away from my genuine emotions, and made it damned near impossible to effectively communicate - weather in the real world or the fabulous interwebz. So my resolve is remedy that.

Now before you get yer knickers in a twist, please know that I have no intention of changing my life or how I share it with you in any monumental way. Trust me if this blog gets Emo, I want one of y'all to be the first to slap me. But there can be no honesty without sharing both the highs and lows of this crazy journey that is my life.

Will I post daily? HA! Probably not. But I'd still like to keep my SuperNerdSaturday tradition, and keep a better track record than a year between posts. And occasionally, if I falter, as I do - feel free to shoot me line or gentle bitch-slap. I could use it, to keep on the straight and narrow. Er, well, at least some semblance of direction.

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-Listening to: Explosions In The Sky - Glittering Blackness via FoxyTunes