It's been 12 days since I last had a uterus.
Last Tuesday I had a hysterectomy. It's been a challenging, emotional, and painful experience. I had it because I had to. Well, partially had to. It turns out I've been carrying around a 5 pound fibroid for who knows how long and my uterus had swelled to the size of a 7 month pregnant uterus. My doctor told me that as soon as they removed it, they noticed how the shape of my belly changed. And when I was finally able to stand up again and see myself in the mirror. I noticed it, too. I had been walking around looking like I was 7 months pregnant. Sure, I still have my belly, but things have definitely smoothed out. So weird.
I say I only partially had to get the hysterectomy as my doctor thought maybe they could get the fibroid out and save the uterus. It would be more difficult and bring other challenges, but it was a possibility. But since I've never wanted kids and despise my period, I told her just to take it. So they did. I'm left with my ovaries and cervix (they too the fallopian tubes, too, as they are the highest cause of cancer so might as well get rid of them, too).
The weeks leading up to the surgery were terrifying. I made sure to keep myself busy. I played a lot of shows, went to a lot of events - just to try to keep my mind off of it. But every night I couldn't help but think about the fact that I had to get surgery. Not fearful of losing the uterus, but of getting surgery itself. I'd never been under anesthesia. I didn't know what to expect. I just wanted the date to hurry up and get here so it could be at the point where I was waking up from surgery and I had, in fact, woken up from surgery and that I didn't have some horrible experience where I woke up mid-surgery. I just wanted to be done with it.
Because I didn't like my uterus and all it brought to me. I never had. From my very first period to my last (which reared its ugly head two days before surgery to take that last bit of dignity from me and force me to have to wear hospital provided mesh panties and a pad going into surgery knowing the nurses would have to deal with the outcome.)
My first period came the day after 5th grade ended. My dad and I were living with his girlfriend (my mother died when I was 6 years old). I hated my dad's girlfriend. She was a such a bitch. Truly, truly a bitch (she once burned my clothes in the fireplace because I left some on the floor of my room - which was in the basement. She was a bitch). I went to the bathroom and there it was. I started bawling and ran to my dad, who was perched on top of the garage painting window trim on the house. I couldn't get the words out, but I didn't have to. He guessed right away. I have no idea how we knew. He told me to go tell Vicki. So I did. She threw some maxi pads my way and that was that. No explanation. No talk. Just a "here - take these." And so begun my menstruation.
It was always terrible, my period. Constantly heavy and clotting. I had accidents all the time. I lost so many pairs of pants to the terrible red stain. I could not fathom how girls could actually go swimming with their periods. Friends would say, you'll be fine! I do it all the time! But not me. It was not possible. And there was no way I was going to risk that huge of possibility of public humiliation. Cramps were terrible and would leave me in bed curled up for hours. My uterus had it against me from the start. I couldn't wear tampons. For one, I had no idea how to wear them at first. No one told me and the box was confusing. But two, my period was just too heavy. They just didn't last long enough. All my friends wore tampons and I always felt out of place. Different. Dirty. All my life I've heard women make fun of pads and it's been hard. I've felt ashamed. Like I'm some sort of ogre. You'd think women would be more sensitive to other women's menstrual needs. But they're not. So I would play along like tampons were my feminine hygiene product of choice. But they never were.
When I reached my early twenties, my period calmed down a bit. Most likely due to the fact I had just moved out of the house and was broke and never ate and was a vegetarian and smoked a ton of cigarettes and lost a ton of weight and it all screwed with my cycle. I was able to use tampons for a while, but they were never comfortable for me. They didn't seem to fit. So I returned to my trusty pads. And as stability returned to my life and I got a job and ate regular meals, my period returned in all its glory. It took a few years, but it came back full force.
Over the last 5-6 years, it'd become unbearable. Planning vacations became increasingly difficult as the fear I would have it would worry me as it could easily ruin a vacation. I can't even walk the dog the first few days of my period, much less wander the streets of Montreal with any ease. This spring, as my friends were all planning a trip to the Eaux Claires Music Festival, I had to wait and hope they didn't sell out until about two weeks before the date because the last thing I wanted was to be stuck with my horrible period at an outdoor music festival with only a sea of port-a-potties to save me. My period has always been on time (minus a few occasions) but it always seems like my calculations would be off as soon as an event rolled around. It always seemed to appear.
There was a 3 month period a few years ago when it lasted 2 weeks at a time. It was hell. I went to the doctor and they put me on birth control, which cut it back down to 7 days, but didn't make it any lighter. Eventually, I stopped taking it.
I had an abortion when I was 20. Not my uterus's fault, technically. But a few days before the procedure, I was sitting at home and went to the bathroom and there was a ton of blood. I thought for sure I had a miscarriage. But, nope. Just my lovely lovely uterus doing what it does. Being a fucking nightmare.
So, flash forward to July 2015 and I'm told I'll need to get a hysterectomy. I took it calmly at the clinic and listened - and nearly passed out - as the doctor explained what was going to happen. When I went to my car, I sobbed. Just completely broke down. Partially out of fear of having to get surgery, but mostly about the idea of losing my uterus.
Like I said above, I've never wanted kids. Kids and me just don't mix. I don't know what to do with them, how to talk to them. They bring out the worst of my germaphobia. The screaming and crying. The constant need for attention. I have a dog and a dog is all I can handle in that department.
But it's something different when the narrative changes from "I don't WANT kids" to "I CAN'T HAVE kids". I'm now someone who cannot conceive a child. I'm that person in those conversations. If I tell someone, they will pity me. "Oh, I'm so sorry." Growing up having to hear that every time someone asks me about my mother - it gets old so fast. Now here is another thing.
And I couldn't help but almost laugh at the onslaught of child related things that went on in my life leading up to the hysterectomy. My friend had triplets. Just two weeks after learning I had to get a hysterectomy, she gave birth to surprise triplets. Baby news everywhere!
In the two weeks leading up to my hysterectomy, I brought food to my triplet having friend, attended another friend's baby shower (which meant I had to shop for baby stuff), had a coworker announce her pregnancy, and watched my Facebook feed fill up with picture after picture after picture of first days of schools of countless children of family and friends. And I'm so happy for them all. I truly am. But, I felt like the universe was making me question everything. I tend to not get to involved in the lives of the children in my life, but suddenly I felt like it was all babies all the time. It was hard to deal. As much as I was trying to avoid thinking about they upcoming hysterectomy, events in my life wouldn't let that happen.
And now, here I am. Twelve days since I last had a uterus. It's been incredibly taxing in ways I did not expect.
My surgery went well. Leading up to it, my doctors kept telling me everything should go swimmingly as I am completely healthy. How that is possible, I have no idea. I eat terribly. I'm overweight. I drink a lot of beer. But, I guess I'm healthy. Goes to show weight isn't an indicator of health.
I cried the whole time before surgery. Because that's what I do. I cry. My husband waited with me in the pre-op room while I changed into my hospital robe and my mesh underwear and everyone from nurses to my doctor to the anesthesiologist - everyone on the surgical team - came in and hooked me up to things, checked things, brought me forms to sign, asked me questions, made me recite my name and birthdate over and over - and then they wheeled me away. I said goodbye to Matt and they wheeled me away.
I was so pleased to see that the entire staff working on me were women. For some reason, it feels like they know the parts best and so they will know how to take care of this best. Not fair to male doctors, I know. But whatever. In fact, the last thing I remember saying before going under was telling them all how awesome it was they were all women and how I work for a show that aims to get girls excited about careers in STEM (science, technology, engineering and math). Literally, I said those words, as I was looking up at the stark white walls and ceilings and the very bright lights, and I saw the gas mask thing over me as she was about to place it over my mouth and then I remember nothing else.
The anesthesiologist told me that they would turn the anesthesia off 15 minutes post-surgery and everyone would start to talk to me and say my name and that I should try to respond the best I can so they know I'm awake. Even if I can't open my eyes, I should give them a thumbs up - whatever I can.
I have no recollection of this. But I must of done something because I woke up in the post-op recovery area with a nurse by my side and all my stuff. She gave me glasses so I could see. And the first thing I noticed was that my right hand was completely numb. It felt like it had fallen asleep - hard. So the first thing I remember saying when I woke up is that I couldn't feel my right hand. Then I fell back asleep.
I woke up to them transferring me from the recovery bed into the bed in my hospital room (my private room - thank goodness). Matt came in shortly after. All I cared about was that I couldn't feel my hand. It was my right hand. I'm right handed. I play guitar. I NEED my hand. I was told it was probably placed funny or something got pinched from the blood pressure arm band and that it should come back eventually (it did - finally - after about 5 days). It was the first thing about post-surgery that I was not expecting that has caused me much anxiety and frustration.
Besides my hand, I felt pretty good. My head felt clear. Abdominal pain was minimal. I was in fairly good spirits. The staff at the hospital were great. Really top-notch, kind people.
They made me try to sit up that first night. They told me I would have to get up and use the bathroom the next day so I had to get moving. I was currently hooked up to a catheter. That was my first realization of the kind of pain and difficulty I was in for. Getting up from a laying down position was the worst - and still is. It is so hard. You use every muscle in your abdomen doing that. So I managed to sit up. They wanted me to stand, but I couldn't. I was too lightheaded. I had lost a little more blood than I should have during surgery. The mass was so big and my uterus so swollen, my doctor told me she thought she would have to do an up down incision over the top of the belly button to get it out. But, I guess when they actually got into the OR, she decided she could get it out with the standard "bikini cut". It's a much more pleasant looking incision that way and is easier to hide. So she went for it and it went fine, except I lost a little more blood than planned. So I was dizzy sitting up.
The first night at the hospital I slept in 20 minute intervals as I was on an hourly check up schedule. I was even hooked up to a blood pressure arm band that would automatically squeeze my arm every hour. Temperature takings. Pill taking.
The one nice thing was they had these massager things around each of my calves so the blood in my legs didn't clot from non movement. Those things were awesome.
The next day they had to take the catheter out. I had been wondering how that would work out. They wouldn't just pull it out, would they? There must be some way to get it out....nope. They just pull it out. I can't even think about it now without cringing and wanting to cry. That was terrible. But, it was the one thing that forced me to start working on sitting up because if I didn't go to the bathroom naturally, they were going to have to insert it again and, yeah..nope. That wasn't going to happen.
I managed to get up that day and stand and use the bathroom. Peeing was so weird. They told me it would move slowly and it really did. Not to get into too much detail, but yeah, it was weird. It didn't get normal until a couple of days later. Something else I wasn't prepared for. Also, on that same note, I couldn't really take care of the after business. It's amazing how much your pride just goes away when you can't properly use toilet paper by yourself. I had to have a nurse help me. And, bless her, she did and, yep, that is something that happened.
She also showered me on morning #3 at the hospital. I hadn't showered since surgery morning and I was feeling pretty blech. But I couldn't do it alone. So I stood there. Naked. While she washed me down. And, though my pride was on the floor, like with the bathroom thing, it was not as bad as I thought. My dad is currently in a nursing home and used to say to me as he aged that if he ever got to the point where people had to help him use the bathroom to just shoot him. But, he's there now and he's fine with it. Life is funny that way, I guess. It's good to know that when/if I get to that point, I'll probably be okay with it.
I hadn't really eaten anything since the night before surgery either. I had some cantaloupe and grapes on Night #1 at the hospital, but that was it. My appetite was nil. Another thing you don't think about before surgery is that the narcotics completely fuck with your intestinal system. I couldn't do what I needed to do for 6 days. It was not good. And it was not good for 4 days after that. And it's kind of not good again. And that's all I'll get into with that.
I went home night #3. They told me I had to go for 4 walks around the hospital floor and eat 3 meals before I could leave. So I did that. I was still terrified to leave. I'm such a hypochondriac worrier panic attacker anxiety haver that I knew any little thing that felt weird on me when I got home would send me into a fit. There was safety at the hospital. I was surrounded by people who were medically trained and could save me if need be. But I went home.
Matt, my husband, has been absolutely wonderful. I am a very lucky woman. Getting into the car that night, and the ride in the car and going over potholes and getting out of the car and up the front steps and onto the couch and dealing with my incredibly sweet dog who was very excited to see his mom again but was not allowed to give me a hug like he normally would - it was a lot. I was very scared.
Everything is uncomfortable. Sleeping is the worst. It makes me so sad because I love sleeping. I can only sleep on my back, which is not natural to me. I like to curl up in the fetal position and wrap the pillow over my ears. But I can't. So instead I lie on my back and stare at the ceiling and listen to every sound happening every where. I've taken to sleeping with my headphone on and listening to music just to try to distract myself. It seems to work.
But, I still can't get up from a lying down position without much pain and difficulty. Matt helps me, but at times I have to do it by myself and it is excruciating. And I wake up all night long with horrible pain in my shoulders. I don't know why this is. But they really hurt. And my arms go numb. Just from lying on my back. It's weird. And my stomach, when lying down, feels completely detached from me. I wake up and it feels like I'm wearing a fanny pack or like a cat is sprawled across sleeping on top of me. My whole belly area near the incision feels numb. Like it doesn't belong to me.
I've tried sleeping in my bed a few times, but I cannot get out of it without help and sometimes, even though Matt will gladly help me, I want the independence of being able (even though it's still difficult from the couch) of getting up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom if I have to. Or to take some pain meds. So it's the couch until I'm healed.
I just started taking showers by myself again. When I first got home, Matt had to help me undress, help me get in the shower, and then stand outside and hand me shampoo, soap, etc since I couldn't reach down to get them. Then he had to help me out of the shower, help me dry off, and help me get dressed. This is probably the best argument for marriage I could possibly give. We have been together for 15 years. This is not something I thought he'd ever have to help me with. But here we are. And even though the helplessness and embarrassment of the situation brought me to tears every time, he was there holding my hand and trying to make me laugh. I love him so much.
But I'm able to shower on my own now and I can mostly undress and dress myself again - except for socks and shoes. I can't quite bend over that far yet.
I spent my first week home alone. Matt had to go back to work and it was just me and Robbie Dog. That poor dog. He totally knows something is wrong with me. He's been very gentle and sweet. But he's still a dog. And usually when I'm home during the day, we go for a walk around lunch time or he at least gets to go outside for a bit. But I can't do those things. So every time I get up to go make lunch, he runs to the back door and paws at it and stares at me and I feel terrible. But I couldn't bend down low enough to hook him up to his tie-out. Let alone reach his tie-out which is usually laying on the back patio floor. But this weekend, my bendability has increased a bit and Matt came up with a contraption to hook the tie-out onto which means tomorrow I can let him out during the day. Thank goodness.
Yesterday was a big day for me. I left the house for the first time since the hospital and went with Matt to the grocery store. Then later, we took Robbie Dog up the block and back for a short little walk. It's crazy how tired that all made me. My legs were tired. But it felt good to get out and move. I felt like I might actually get through this.
But then I had a terrible night's sleep. Through all of this recovery time, I've had a bad pain on one side of my abdomen. A pinching. It's not constant. But it hurts the most when I do things. The other side has felt fine, for the most part. But this pinching. It keeps me from being able to bend and move better. I've felt like if it wasn't for that, I'd be much further along.
So last night, I tried to sleep in bed. I was lying there on my back, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the pain in my shoulders, and my stomach was making all sorts of noises. And then I felt this throbbing that wasn't like a gas pain or anything. Just this sort of pinging throbbing in my upper right abdomen. I got up (with Matt's help) around 3am to use the bathroom and take some meds, and when I walked back into the bedroom, out of nowhere, I felt this ripping like sensation on the left side of my abdomen right along the incision line. It felt like taking out hair with a tweezer, or ripping off a bandaid. Except it kept happening in the same spot. I hadn't done anything strenuous. Just walked. I managed to get back into bed and the weird feeling kept happening. And in my crazy brain, I imagined my incision was ripping open. Even as I sit here now, I've felt it a couple of times. These random pains keep happening and it's frustrating because I don't know if they are okay or not. I could call my doctor, but if I called for every little thing that I've worried about over the past 12 days, I'd never get off the phone.
Matt got up at 6am and I moved back to the couch, where I'll probably continue to sleep until I'm healed, unfortunately.
Through all of this, I keep thinking about how I just wanted to get the surgery over with. I had no idea recovery would be this taxing. I knew it would be hard. But it's just the little things. Not being able to reach something on the bottom of shelf of the refrigerator. Or put on socks by myself. Or lie down by myself.
I haven't played guitar in so long. I realized on Friday that I haven't even sung in over a week. Not even to myself. Matt had taken Robbie for a walk and I decided I would pace the hallway the whole time they were gone just to see if I could handle moving that much for that long. A song came on the radio and I started to sing along and it hit me I hadn't sung at all since before surgery. It made me sad. I feel so far removed from my regular life and I'm currently at the point in the recovery process that I can't imagine getting back to it.
My dear friends have a co-birthday party coming up on the 16th. I'll be 3.5 weeks past surgery at that point. I should be back to work by then. Will I be able to go celebrate with them? Will I be able to laugh heartily and drink some beers and enjoy life? Right now it's really hard to imagine that will be possible.
And work. I'm honestly excited to go back. I've been so bored. One can only watch Netflix for so long, I've discovered. But it is a trial getting to my desk. It's really far away from the main entrance. I'm envisioning myself shuffling down the long hallways past all of my coworkers while I wince in pain but try to smile. I'll have to bring my lunch - and one that needs no refrigeration or heating up as there is no way I'll be able to either get to a kitchen or a restaurant.
It's just hard to imagine being normal again. I put on a bra for the first time in 12 days yesterday. It felt wonderful. I can't even imagine getting up and getting ready for work and putting on an outfit and my contacts and make up. I have all these new clothes that I've barely worn. And now I have a new belly and I'm excited to see how they look now. But I can't imagine actually being able to wear them with confidence.
When will I be normal again?
It still hurt to go over pot holes and speed bumps in the car ride to the grocery store yesterday. How will I drive to work?
This is all still, at least, 9 days away. But I feel like I haven't come very far in 12 days. So I'm nervous and, as always, scared. I guess I'm showering and dressing myself (for the most part). And I can sit down and stand up with relative ease. And I can start letting the dog out again. All of these things are improvements. But overall, I still feel so unable.
I have my first band practice scheduled for October 22nd. I am so excited. But, will I be able to lift my guitar? It's pretty heavy. I just want to play it again.
We have our first show back scheduled for December 19th. That is so far away from now, but still I wonder how I will ever be able to perform again. Right now, these things seem impossible.
I just want my regular life back.
The doctor told me, since they left my ovaries and my cervix, that I will still technically have my menstrual cycle. I will get PMS and hormonal. I could bloat. And there might even be spotting from vessels in my cervix. We have a vacation planned at the end of February. We're going back to London and also taking a train up to Scotland. I wonder if the ghost of my uterus will strike with horrible bloating and PMS at this time. It will, obviously, never be as bad as it was. It was the bleeding that was the worst. But even after all of this, all of that stuff will still happen. But hey, no bleeding and no risk of pregnancy.
Well, I've been sitting for a while. I should probably get up and move. Pace the hallway. See how that goes. Maybe take the dog out. I have to do these things to get my life back.
I just want my life back.
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Sunday, October 4, 2015
Friday, January 2, 2015
The Fraud Police
I finished Amanda Palmer's book The Art of Asking last night. It's been a wealth of information and inspiration. A couple of years ago, Amanda - a musician - embarked on a Kickstarter campaign with a goal of $100,000...she ended up making over $1,000,000. It was the most amount of money ever raised by a musician on Kickstarter. It sparked a slew of controversy. Who is she to ask for money? She used to be on a major label. This is like begging. Blah blah blah.
The book is part memoir, part self-help. It looks back on her life, emphasizing all the times she had to ask for help to get to where she is today. It highlights all those people who helped her.
It helps you understand that it's okay to ask for help.
I don't like to ask for anything. A ride somewhere, to borrow a pen, to get a picture taken, advice...
I can think of hundreds of times where if I just would have asked for help things would have gone so much better. I think about how when I put out my first album, I had so many resources at my fingertips, but I was too scared to ask for help. My friend used to run a label. She knows everyone in town. She knows how to get an album reviewed. But I was scared to ask. So I didn't. And that was that. For my second album, I gathered up the courage and asked for her help. And she was happy to. And then I was on the radio.
All you have to do is ask.
So what does that have to do with The Fraud Police?
Throughout her book, Amanda talks about The Fraud Police. The Fraud Police is the name she gives for that nagging voice of self doubt that everyone has. The idea that someday someone is going to "bust you" and say: we always knew you weren't real. you don't deserve this. you suck at this. and now we figured it out and we're taking it all away.
It's a voice that lives way too close to the forefront of my brain. Any time I want to ask for help with something to do with music, I just hear that voice saying: everyone will laugh. nobody takes this seriously. they're just humoring you. nobody takes you seriously. you suck at this.
And that is terrifying.
In February, I'm hoping to launch a Kickstarter campaign for the new record. It's been recorded, but there is still work to do. Expensive work. And I need help. And so I'm going to have to ask for it.
And that is terrifying.
Finishing this record and getting it out in the world is so important to me. It's been years in the making and I need to get it out. And the thought that I can't do it without this one part of the equation sucks.
Because I don't like to ask for help. Because I'm afraid the answer will be no. And then where does that leave me?
And then The Fraud Police come back and then I spend my nights lying in bed trying to convince them they are wrong.
Trying to convince myself.
Do I sound like a crazy person?
We're entering into a new year, and with that comes all those resolutions. So I guess it's time to make one. It's time for me to learn how to stop worrying and let people help.
Thanks, Amanda.
(Also, it' a really good book and a quick read and you should get it and read it)
Monday, September 8, 2014
Three Things Full Of Happy
I can't believe I haven't written about the Sylvan Esso show last Wednesday...because it was phenomenal.
I was wary of going to this show because - although I enjoy this kind of music - I despise paying money for shows just to watch someone play on a laptop. I just feel like it's not that hard to get a band to recreate the sounds.
But these two put on a hell of a show. The laptop was there along with a mixing board, but Nick Sanborn played those things like he was behind a guitar or a drumkit. There was a ton of passion there. And dancing.
Amelia Meath is a wonderful front woman with a killer voice. I first noticed her when as a part of the group Mountain Man. They sang backup for Feist on the tour I saw and she completely stood out - nearly stole the show with her enthusiasm. She's darling and I think it's great that she's getting this success with her own stuff.
They got First Avenue dancing. That just doesn't happen. Minnesotans don't do that at concerts, but the place was jumping. It was a fantastic show.
This is their video for their single "Play It Right":
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I had been craving margaritas. That's a weird thing to say. But really I think I was just craving sitting outside on a beautiful summer day with friends and having some fun drinks. So I arranged a get together at a place in town that serves margaritas and a bunch of us had fun drinks on the patio on what was probably the most perfectly gorgeous weather day of the summer. Then we all headed back to my place and had a fun just hanging out together. I have nothing more to add to that (or pictures to share) but it was just a really great day.
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Then on Sunday it was Dog Day at the MIA (Minneapolis Institute of Arts). They open the doors to dogs and their humans and host activities for dogs in the courtyard. They can contribute to a mural and make their own art. They have photo booths and a caricature artist. Placed around the lot are water bowls. It's really fun and dogs are everywhere and the cuteness is overwhelming. It was also another gorgeous weather day. We took Robbie last year and it was muggy and cool, but this year it was gorgeous and the place was packed with dogs and people. It was super fun. And Robbie made more art. He's so talented.
I was wary of going to this show because - although I enjoy this kind of music - I despise paying money for shows just to watch someone play on a laptop. I just feel like it's not that hard to get a band to recreate the sounds.
But these two put on a hell of a show. The laptop was there along with a mixing board, but Nick Sanborn played those things like he was behind a guitar or a drumkit. There was a ton of passion there. And dancing.
Amelia Meath is a wonderful front woman with a killer voice. I first noticed her when as a part of the group Mountain Man. They sang backup for Feist on the tour I saw and she completely stood out - nearly stole the show with her enthusiasm. She's darling and I think it's great that she's getting this success with her own stuff.
They got First Avenue dancing. That just doesn't happen. Minnesotans don't do that at concerts, but the place was jumping. It was a fantastic show.
This is their video for their single "Play It Right":
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I had been craving margaritas. That's a weird thing to say. But really I think I was just craving sitting outside on a beautiful summer day with friends and having some fun drinks. So I arranged a get together at a place in town that serves margaritas and a bunch of us had fun drinks on the patio on what was probably the most perfectly gorgeous weather day of the summer. Then we all headed back to my place and had a fun just hanging out together. I have nothing more to add to that (or pictures to share) but it was just a really great day.
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Then on Sunday it was Dog Day at the MIA (Minneapolis Institute of Arts). They open the doors to dogs and their humans and host activities for dogs in the courtyard. They can contribute to a mural and make their own art. They have photo booths and a caricature artist. Placed around the lot are water bowls. It's really fun and dogs are everywhere and the cuteness is overwhelming. It was also another gorgeous weather day. We took Robbie last year and it was muggy and cool, but this year it was gorgeous and the place was packed with dogs and people. It was super fun. And Robbie made more art. He's so talented.
Monday, August 4, 2014
Be Positive Though It Hurts
My brain is currently swimming as I try to fight through a hang over. The Jenny Lewis show last night was exactly what I needed after a rough weekend, but it has left me with the remnants of one too many PBRs. Luckily, I had the day off today.
Jenny was absolutely brilliant last night. I have not been into her new album The Voyager - although some of the songs are growing on me - but she is a ridiculously good performer. After the poor concert experience I had on Saturday night, I had decided I didn't even want to try to be up front for Jenny Lewis and I was just going to be content hanging out towards the back. But as soon as she started I was a bit bummed I didn't try. Still...she reached me. All the way at the back of the room.
It was my wedding anniversary. We had a lovely weekend planned and it was mostly lovely. It started on Friday night at a fun party hosted by my drummer, John. The band and I played a set in his backyard. We hadn't played in front of people as a band since the end of April so it was good to get some time in before our shows this fall start kicking in. We played mostly songs off the new album, but added some oldies at the end. I had a moment when we started playing "Float" and someone in the audience got really excited. Still weird that people know my songs.
That night, Matt and I had decided that we would drop Robbie Dog off at grandma's house so we could enjoy our anniversary weekend without having to worry about getting home at certain times. There were block parties that we wanted to attend. Saturday morning we dropped him off and he was such a good boy as he watched us leave.
We stopped and did some shopping on the way home. I bought a new shirt to wear out that day.
We headed to The Butcher and the Boar block party to see BBGun, Night Moves, and Haley Bonar. I love Haley. She is far and away one of my favorites. She's such a solid songwriter. I see her often, but I always look forward to it.
We were having such a great day and a nice time.
We went to the front row before Haley started. It was a block party. People were chatty. They'd been standing in the sun drinking all afternoon. I was not expecting completely silence for the show. But next to me was a group of 3 people. They were in the front row, with their backs to the stage, holding a very loud conversation. They seemed to have zero interest in Haley Bonar or the fact that there was even a stage behind them with someone performing or that there were other people around them who were trying to enjoy it. I kept waiting for them to stop and start paying attention. But they didn't.
As I do, I took it upon myself to do something about it. But I was not the only one. Others asked them to please take their conversation elsewhere. But I guess my tone was the bitchiest of all or something. They finally walked away and I was able to start enjoying the set.
Let me just repeat, everyone around us was chatty. It was expected. It was not the kind of setting where you expect silence. I have no problem with people leaning to their friends to say something. But to plant yourself in the front row with your backs to the stage and then speak so loudly because you are right next to the speakers that you have to shout your conversation because you are more into that than the performer is a behavior that I will never understand. Why are they even there? Put the CD on and stay home.
I was just getting back into the set when this guy comes up to me and stands directly in front of me. Like, nearly on my toes right in front of me. He was shorter so I could see over him. But it was weird. He was so close and so in front of me that if you were standing behind me, you probably wouldn't have been able to see him. There was plenty of room around us so that made it even stranger. But people drink and get weird and I just assumed he was oblivious to his surroundings.
So I moved. And he moved in front of me again. So I moved again. Then so did he.
This repeated itself for a while until I was finally like, excuse me? What are you doing?
He whips around like he had been eagerly waiting for me to speak and says "Can't I dance at a show now??? Is that not allowed???" His aggression completely shocked me. I just said, "yes, go ahead. Dance. That's fine. I have no problem with that. You're just doing it basically on top of me." He whips around again and tells me I have an attitude problem and I should shut up.
Seriously, it was frightening.
He was in my face with a look of crazy in his eyes. I started to apologize and said "I'm sorry for whatever I did to you. Can we start over?" I tried to shake his hand, introduce myself, but he wouldn't let up. He just stayed in my face with his chest pumped.
Then one of the chatty girls from before comes running over and I was all "oh, you're with them." She tells me she had to send him over because she hates when people talk at shows and ha ha how do you like that.
I was just shocked. She actually sent some little goon over to try to fight me. It was insane.
At this point, Matt had gone to get security. As he came back, the angry guy and chatty girl ran off. And by then, my night was ruined. I left. I was shaken. I couldn't enjoy myself anymore.
It sucked.
Flip to the next morning. I was enjoying sleeping in. It's not something we get to do with the dog. He wakes us up every morning at about 6:15. Matt had got up to grab his phone and I awoke to him calling down the hallway "Niki. Get up. We have to go. Robbie's gone."
Robbie had jumped the fence at my mother-in-law's house. He had been gone for nearly an hour by the time she called us. She lives about 25 minutes away. He is a very fast dog. He was gone.
This was what we woke up to on our anniversary.
I jumped out of bed and we got on the road. I frantically posted his picture on Facebook and Twitter, typing through uncontrollable sobs. Traffic was terrible and made even worse knowing that each extra minute was another minute head start for Robbie to be even further away. Lost in the winding suburban streets of Bloomington. All those busy roads. All those massive parks. I couldn't believe I might not see him again. It was such an awful feeling.
When we got about 2 minutes away from her house, my mother-in-law called and said he had been found. I just cannot even begin to describe the relief. We got there and there he was. Dirty, wet, panting like crazy. He was gone for nearly 2 hours. And from the various sightings in the neighborhood, he got pretty far.
I tend to wallow in the dumps once I stumble into one. I throw myself a lot of pity parties and I hate that I do that. But I just don't get a lot of vacations (I had taken a 4 day weekend) and anniversaries happen once a year. I was looking forward to this weekend and now at this point, I was nearly assaulted at a Haley Bonar show and got wake up call that my dog ran away. It's hard not to be like, what the fuck, universe?
Later that day, I ran to the grocery store and while I was driving out of the parking lot, the guy in front of me kept slamming on his brakes for apparently no reason. When he did it again then started to turn without using a turn signal, I honked my horn. He slammed on his brakes and jerked his car towards mine and rolled down his window. I kept driving and he started following me. Because I honked my horn at him. What his plan was for if he caught me, I don't know. I managed to get into traffic while he got stuck at a stop sign and I lost him. But so very scary. I know aggression begets aggression and all that. But they put horns on cars for a reason. I nearly hit the guy a couple of times because he was so randomly slamming on his brakes. He was driving erratically.
I had forgotten to get something at the grocery store, so I ran to the gas station. As I was paying for my purchase, a guy peaks his head in and asked the cashier why the pump isn't working. She explains to him that that pump is a pre-pay and he either has to pay at the pump with a credit card or pre-pay inside. His response to her "SCREW YOU. I'm going somewhere else." WTF? Screw you? Why would he say that to her? It's not her fault.
It was the third act of aggression I've witnessed in 12 hours and I just couldn't take it anymore. I got sad. I came home and slumped on the couch and didn't want to leave. The Jenny Lewis show sounded like a chore and I was worried I might look at someone the wrong way and things would go horribly wrong.
But Matt said maybe it would be good for me. So we went.
We got there about 20 minutes before she went on. It was sold out. Packed. We stayed towards the back as planned. The people around us seemed like good people. After a few songs, we wandered to another area and just sort of did that routine all night. It was a fantastic show. She has never sounded better. She played a great mix of old and new and Rilo Kiley songs.
The last song before the encore was "A Better Son/Daughter". We had moved to the side of stage and I had the best view I had had all night. This song hit me hard. I've always liked it. It's kind of THE Rilo Kiley song. Everybody loves it. You can't not like it. The lyrics are universal. They are almost easy in their obviousness to connect and at times when I've been feeling more cynical, I've thought them to be kind of cheesy. A song written for people to belt out to at shows. Let's throw the word fuck in and people will go wild. But still, I've always thought it was a great song. And last night I cried. Because...
"the lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap
and it teases you for weeks in its absence
but you'll fight and you'll make it through
you'll fake it if you have to and you'll show up to work with a smile...
you'll be awake, you'll be alert
you'll be positive though it hurts...
you'll be honest, you'll be brave
you'll be handsome, you'll be beautiful
you'll be happy"
I cried. I hate when I cry at shows. It happens more often than I care to admit. Music just does that to me. It brings up all the emotions.
There was a woman standing behind Matt and he let her move in front of him and she was so floored that someone would give up their spot. She kept thanking him and then she said it was her birthday and I told her it was our wedding anniversary. And we hugged. And I was reminded there are nice people. I was full of all the feelings.
After the show, we decided to go have one more drink next door and this woman and her friends showed up and we ended up joining them at their table and had a really excellent time.
Sometimes I just need to be reminded that not everyone is an asshole. Kindness begets kindness.
I have been trying to be more breezy. I'm not doing very well at it, but I'm trying. I will probably still call out jerks at shows and I will still honk my horn at no turn signal using bad drivers. But I do need to let more things roll off my back.
For now, I just need to get rid of this hang over and take my dog to PetSmart for some treats.
Jenny was absolutely brilliant last night. I have not been into her new album The Voyager - although some of the songs are growing on me - but she is a ridiculously good performer. After the poor concert experience I had on Saturday night, I had decided I didn't even want to try to be up front for Jenny Lewis and I was just going to be content hanging out towards the back. But as soon as she started I was a bit bummed I didn't try. Still...she reached me. All the way at the back of the room.
It was my wedding anniversary. We had a lovely weekend planned and it was mostly lovely. It started on Friday night at a fun party hosted by my drummer, John. The band and I played a set in his backyard. We hadn't played in front of people as a band since the end of April so it was good to get some time in before our shows this fall start kicking in. We played mostly songs off the new album, but added some oldies at the end. I had a moment when we started playing "Float" and someone in the audience got really excited. Still weird that people know my songs.
That night, Matt and I had decided that we would drop Robbie Dog off at grandma's house so we could enjoy our anniversary weekend without having to worry about getting home at certain times. There were block parties that we wanted to attend. Saturday morning we dropped him off and he was such a good boy as he watched us leave.
We stopped and did some shopping on the way home. I bought a new shirt to wear out that day.
We headed to The Butcher and the Boar block party to see BBGun, Night Moves, and Haley Bonar. I love Haley. She is far and away one of my favorites. She's such a solid songwriter. I see her often, but I always look forward to it.
We were having such a great day and a nice time.
We went to the front row before Haley started. It was a block party. People were chatty. They'd been standing in the sun drinking all afternoon. I was not expecting completely silence for the show. But next to me was a group of 3 people. They were in the front row, with their backs to the stage, holding a very loud conversation. They seemed to have zero interest in Haley Bonar or the fact that there was even a stage behind them with someone performing or that there were other people around them who were trying to enjoy it. I kept waiting for them to stop and start paying attention. But they didn't.
As I do, I took it upon myself to do something about it. But I was not the only one. Others asked them to please take their conversation elsewhere. But I guess my tone was the bitchiest of all or something. They finally walked away and I was able to start enjoying the set.
Let me just repeat, everyone around us was chatty. It was expected. It was not the kind of setting where you expect silence. I have no problem with people leaning to their friends to say something. But to plant yourself in the front row with your backs to the stage and then speak so loudly because you are right next to the speakers that you have to shout your conversation because you are more into that than the performer is a behavior that I will never understand. Why are they even there? Put the CD on and stay home.
I was just getting back into the set when this guy comes up to me and stands directly in front of me. Like, nearly on my toes right in front of me. He was shorter so I could see over him. But it was weird. He was so close and so in front of me that if you were standing behind me, you probably wouldn't have been able to see him. There was plenty of room around us so that made it even stranger. But people drink and get weird and I just assumed he was oblivious to his surroundings.
So I moved. And he moved in front of me again. So I moved again. Then so did he.
This repeated itself for a while until I was finally like, excuse me? What are you doing?
He whips around like he had been eagerly waiting for me to speak and says "Can't I dance at a show now??? Is that not allowed???" His aggression completely shocked me. I just said, "yes, go ahead. Dance. That's fine. I have no problem with that. You're just doing it basically on top of me." He whips around again and tells me I have an attitude problem and I should shut up.
Seriously, it was frightening.
He was in my face with a look of crazy in his eyes. I started to apologize and said "I'm sorry for whatever I did to you. Can we start over?" I tried to shake his hand, introduce myself, but he wouldn't let up. He just stayed in my face with his chest pumped.
Then one of the chatty girls from before comes running over and I was all "oh, you're with them." She tells me she had to send him over because she hates when people talk at shows and ha ha how do you like that.
I was just shocked. She actually sent some little goon over to try to fight me. It was insane.
At this point, Matt had gone to get security. As he came back, the angry guy and chatty girl ran off. And by then, my night was ruined. I left. I was shaken. I couldn't enjoy myself anymore.
It sucked.
Flip to the next morning. I was enjoying sleeping in. It's not something we get to do with the dog. He wakes us up every morning at about 6:15. Matt had got up to grab his phone and I awoke to him calling down the hallway "Niki. Get up. We have to go. Robbie's gone."
Robbie had jumped the fence at my mother-in-law's house. He had been gone for nearly an hour by the time she called us. She lives about 25 minutes away. He is a very fast dog. He was gone.
This was what we woke up to on our anniversary.
I jumped out of bed and we got on the road. I frantically posted his picture on Facebook and Twitter, typing through uncontrollable sobs. Traffic was terrible and made even worse knowing that each extra minute was another minute head start for Robbie to be even further away. Lost in the winding suburban streets of Bloomington. All those busy roads. All those massive parks. I couldn't believe I might not see him again. It was such an awful feeling.
When we got about 2 minutes away from her house, my mother-in-law called and said he had been found. I just cannot even begin to describe the relief. We got there and there he was. Dirty, wet, panting like crazy. He was gone for nearly 2 hours. And from the various sightings in the neighborhood, he got pretty far.
I tend to wallow in the dumps once I stumble into one. I throw myself a lot of pity parties and I hate that I do that. But I just don't get a lot of vacations (I had taken a 4 day weekend) and anniversaries happen once a year. I was looking forward to this weekend and now at this point, I was nearly assaulted at a Haley Bonar show and got wake up call that my dog ran away. It's hard not to be like, what the fuck, universe?
Later that day, I ran to the grocery store and while I was driving out of the parking lot, the guy in front of me kept slamming on his brakes for apparently no reason. When he did it again then started to turn without using a turn signal, I honked my horn. He slammed on his brakes and jerked his car towards mine and rolled down his window. I kept driving and he started following me. Because I honked my horn at him. What his plan was for if he caught me, I don't know. I managed to get into traffic while he got stuck at a stop sign and I lost him. But so very scary. I know aggression begets aggression and all that. But they put horns on cars for a reason. I nearly hit the guy a couple of times because he was so randomly slamming on his brakes. He was driving erratically.
I had forgotten to get something at the grocery store, so I ran to the gas station. As I was paying for my purchase, a guy peaks his head in and asked the cashier why the pump isn't working. She explains to him that that pump is a pre-pay and he either has to pay at the pump with a credit card or pre-pay inside. His response to her "SCREW YOU. I'm going somewhere else." WTF? Screw you? Why would he say that to her? It's not her fault.
It was the third act of aggression I've witnessed in 12 hours and I just couldn't take it anymore. I got sad. I came home and slumped on the couch and didn't want to leave. The Jenny Lewis show sounded like a chore and I was worried I might look at someone the wrong way and things would go horribly wrong.
But Matt said maybe it would be good for me. So we went.
We got there about 20 minutes before she went on. It was sold out. Packed. We stayed towards the back as planned. The people around us seemed like good people. After a few songs, we wandered to another area and just sort of did that routine all night. It was a fantastic show. She has never sounded better. She played a great mix of old and new and Rilo Kiley songs.
The last song before the encore was "A Better Son/Daughter". We had moved to the side of stage and I had the best view I had had all night. This song hit me hard. I've always liked it. It's kind of THE Rilo Kiley song. Everybody loves it. You can't not like it. The lyrics are universal. They are almost easy in their obviousness to connect and at times when I've been feeling more cynical, I've thought them to be kind of cheesy. A song written for people to belt out to at shows. Let's throw the word fuck in and people will go wild. But still, I've always thought it was a great song. And last night I cried. Because...
"the lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap
and it teases you for weeks in its absence
but you'll fight and you'll make it through
you'll fake it if you have to and you'll show up to work with a smile...
you'll be awake, you'll be alert
you'll be positive though it hurts...
you'll be honest, you'll be brave
you'll be handsome, you'll be beautiful
you'll be happy"
I cried. I hate when I cry at shows. It happens more often than I care to admit. Music just does that to me. It brings up all the emotions.
There was a woman standing behind Matt and he let her move in front of him and she was so floored that someone would give up their spot. She kept thanking him and then she said it was her birthday and I told her it was our wedding anniversary. And we hugged. And I was reminded there are nice people. I was full of all the feelings.
After the show, we decided to go have one more drink next door and this woman and her friends showed up and we ended up joining them at their table and had a really excellent time.
Sometimes I just need to be reminded that not everyone is an asshole. Kindness begets kindness.
I have been trying to be more breezy. I'm not doing very well at it, but I'm trying. I will probably still call out jerks at shows and I will still honk my horn at no turn signal using bad drivers. But I do need to let more things roll off my back.
For now, I just need to get rid of this hang over and take my dog to PetSmart for some treats.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
The Fox And The Hound
Recently some foxes have moved into the neighborhood. First, it was just sightings of one. Well the one turned out to be a mom and she had four pups. Here they are frolicking in our backyard a few weeks ago:
They were adorable scampering about the yard, tumbling over each other as they played. I brought Robbie out to the porch to see them as they played. He seemed a bit concerned, but he didn't bark. He just sat and watched them.
I posted that picture on Facebook and some of my neighbors voiced their concerns about the diseases that these animals can bring. I read up on foxes on the Humane Society of the United States website and everything says that they are not a threat and you should let them be and even if they've built a den under your porch, just let the mom raise the pups. They won't bother you.
They can be a carrier of a potentially lethal parasite, but no website labeled it as a concern. They all spoke to how they are harmless and should be left alone.
So I felt pretty good about things. They didn't seem to come around when Robbie was out in the yard. I wasn't too worried about it.
But then I started spotting fox poo everywhere and I started getting concerned that Robbie would get a little too close to it. He's not a poo eater, but I don't know how that stuff transfers.
Then my neighbor mentioned that one of the foxes charged their little cockapoo dog.
Then Robbie's outside toys went missing.
Then yesterday, one showed up in our yard while Robbie was having his morning post-breakfast backyard wander. I was sleeping still, but Matt was up with him. He went to go bring him inside and saw the fox standing at the edge of the yard barking at Robbie...and the Robbie took off. He's on a tie-out, but he went after it sound hard that he snapped his collar. He was gone.
Robbie is ridiculously fast. He's a blink and he's gone kind of dog.
Matt came running down the hallway yelling at me to get up. I though the house on was on fire. He told me what happened as he threw on some shoes and told me to get the car. We were both frantic. He got back outside before me and as I got out the front door with car keys and leash in hand, I heard Matt yell "Robbie!" and around the corner came Robbie running full speed to the front door. I was so proud of him for returning right home, though I had to bite my tongue holding back any scolding as you're not supposed to scold a dog when it returns. You're supposed to praise it for doing the right thing.
Matt said he saw Robbie and the fox having a stare down in the neighbor's front yard before Robbie came running back.
My concern is starting to grow.
This morning I woke up around 5am to the most awful shrieking outside our bedroom window. It sounded like a witch's cackle...or a cat being tortured. But it was the fox barking. Just wandering around the yard and barking for no reason. Eventually, it went away. But then around 7am, it came back when my neighbor was letting out that same Cockapoo. The dog and the fox had another barking match before my neighbor was able to get the dog back inside.
I'm finding fox feces everywhere.
I'm worried that this particular fox is not all that healthy.
I called Animal Control and I got the same rundown about how foxes are harmless and that it's just trying to raise its pups and will be gone soon enough.
Not sure what to do. It sucks not to be able to just let Robbie lie around outside in the sun like he likes to do so much.
I also don't know if we're dealing with one crazy fox or - potentially - five of them.
I know I haven't seen a rabbit in the neighborhood in a long time.
I guess for now we just wait and see.
They were adorable scampering about the yard, tumbling over each other as they played. I brought Robbie out to the porch to see them as they played. He seemed a bit concerned, but he didn't bark. He just sat and watched them.
I posted that picture on Facebook and some of my neighbors voiced their concerns about the diseases that these animals can bring. I read up on foxes on the Humane Society of the United States website and everything says that they are not a threat and you should let them be and even if they've built a den under your porch, just let the mom raise the pups. They won't bother you.
They can be a carrier of a potentially lethal parasite, but no website labeled it as a concern. They all spoke to how they are harmless and should be left alone.
So I felt pretty good about things. They didn't seem to come around when Robbie was out in the yard. I wasn't too worried about it.
But then I started spotting fox poo everywhere and I started getting concerned that Robbie would get a little too close to it. He's not a poo eater, but I don't know how that stuff transfers.
Then my neighbor mentioned that one of the foxes charged their little cockapoo dog.
Then Robbie's outside toys went missing.
Then yesterday, one showed up in our yard while Robbie was having his morning post-breakfast backyard wander. I was sleeping still, but Matt was up with him. He went to go bring him inside and saw the fox standing at the edge of the yard barking at Robbie...and the Robbie took off. He's on a tie-out, but he went after it sound hard that he snapped his collar. He was gone.
Robbie is ridiculously fast. He's a blink and he's gone kind of dog.
Matt came running down the hallway yelling at me to get up. I though the house on was on fire. He told me what happened as he threw on some shoes and told me to get the car. We were both frantic. He got back outside before me and as I got out the front door with car keys and leash in hand, I heard Matt yell "Robbie!" and around the corner came Robbie running full speed to the front door. I was so proud of him for returning right home, though I had to bite my tongue holding back any scolding as you're not supposed to scold a dog when it returns. You're supposed to praise it for doing the right thing.
Matt said he saw Robbie and the fox having a stare down in the neighbor's front yard before Robbie came running back.
My concern is starting to grow.
This morning I woke up around 5am to the most awful shrieking outside our bedroom window. It sounded like a witch's cackle...or a cat being tortured. But it was the fox barking. Just wandering around the yard and barking for no reason. Eventually, it went away. But then around 7am, it came back when my neighbor was letting out that same Cockapoo. The dog and the fox had another barking match before my neighbor was able to get the dog back inside.
I'm finding fox feces everywhere.
I'm worried that this particular fox is not all that healthy.
I called Animal Control and I got the same rundown about how foxes are harmless and that it's just trying to raise its pups and will be gone soon enough.
Not sure what to do. It sucks not to be able to just let Robbie lie around outside in the sun like he likes to do so much.
I also don't know if we're dealing with one crazy fox or - potentially - five of them.
I know I haven't seen a rabbit in the neighborhood in a long time.
I guess for now we just wait and see.
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
It's Been A Long, Long, Long Time
Once again I am at the point where I haven't written anything here in a while and so I am overwhelmed with things I could write about, yet nothing too crazy or major has happened so it's been hard to write.
Maybe general update time?
If there's one thing that's overwhelmed me lately, it's the ridiculous amount of new music that has come out in the past 6 weeks. I've been immersed in new music so much that I'm not even sure if I'm really enjoying it. That's not saying that it's not good, it's just things keep coming out each week that I get the new one, stop listening to the one that came out the previous week, and then the cycle continues the next week.
A couple standouts though...
Alpha Consumer's Meat is so far my favorite album of the year - besides Beyonce (I feel like I have to put that disclaimer out every time I talk about the best music of 2014 and yes, I know it technically came out in December, but that is barely 2013 anymore). Anyway, it's super fun Devo-esque brilliance with some top notch alt-country thrown in because why not. Excellent driving around with the wind down or dancing in your living room music. The release show is this Saturday at 7th Street Entry. I will be there.
Haley Bonar has released yet another stellar album, Last War. I don't think it's possible for her to write a dud. She's just really really good at writing songs. And we are all better off for it.
The band and I have started recording the new album. We spent last weekend in a studio for about 15 hours recording all of the basic tracks. Drums, bass, guitars...those parts are pretty much done. It's sounding really good. And, of course, now that we are rolling, I just want to finish it! But it will take some time. And I need to be okay with that.
But, a couple of weeks ago, Shawn and I recorded a demo version of one of the new songs. It's called "Daughter" and you can listen to it here:
Other than all that, it's basically summer in Minnesota which means every weekend there is some opportunity to stand in a parking lot outside of a bar and watch live music and drink canned beer. Art-a-Whirl and Memory Lanes Block Party are the two I have attended so far.
Day Job Land has been crazy busy for the past few months and it has finally mellowed out. My brain feels free again to think about things other than work. Of course, now it is filled with constant thoughts on the new album. I suppose it's good to keep the brain occupied.
I feel like I'm missing some major updates, but really, I've just been buying new records, recording my own, and going to shows. Pretty status quo. So I'll end with a picture of Robbie hanging out with me while I listen to the early rough mixes of the album because o my goodness he is the cutest...
Maybe general update time?
If there's one thing that's overwhelmed me lately, it's the ridiculous amount of new music that has come out in the past 6 weeks. I've been immersed in new music so much that I'm not even sure if I'm really enjoying it. That's not saying that it's not good, it's just things keep coming out each week that I get the new one, stop listening to the one that came out the previous week, and then the cycle continues the next week.
A couple standouts though...
Alpha Consumer's Meat is so far my favorite album of the year - besides Beyonce (I feel like I have to put that disclaimer out every time I talk about the best music of 2014 and yes, I know it technically came out in December, but that is barely 2013 anymore). Anyway, it's super fun Devo-esque brilliance with some top notch alt-country thrown in because why not. Excellent driving around with the wind down or dancing in your living room music. The release show is this Saturday at 7th Street Entry. I will be there.
Haley Bonar has released yet another stellar album, Last War. I don't think it's possible for her to write a dud. She's just really really good at writing songs. And we are all better off for it.
The band and I have started recording the new album. We spent last weekend in a studio for about 15 hours recording all of the basic tracks. Drums, bass, guitars...those parts are pretty much done. It's sounding really good. And, of course, now that we are rolling, I just want to finish it! But it will take some time. And I need to be okay with that.
But, a couple of weeks ago, Shawn and I recorded a demo version of one of the new songs. It's called "Daughter" and you can listen to it here:
Other than all that, it's basically summer in Minnesota which means every weekend there is some opportunity to stand in a parking lot outside of a bar and watch live music and drink canned beer. Art-a-Whirl and Memory Lanes Block Party are the two I have attended so far.
Day Job Land has been crazy busy for the past few months and it has finally mellowed out. My brain feels free again to think about things other than work. Of course, now it is filled with constant thoughts on the new album. I suppose it's good to keep the brain occupied.
I feel like I'm missing some major updates, but really, I've just been buying new records, recording my own, and going to shows. Pretty status quo. So I'll end with a picture of Robbie hanging out with me while I listen to the early rough mixes of the album because o my goodness he is the cutest...
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
On Anais Mitchell, The National, Music, And Memories
Last weekend I had one of my drink a lot of beer and listen to music really loud solo sing along nights. Just me and my beer, hanging out in the living room with the iPod, letting it shuffle its way around my emotions.
Amongst songs by Cloud Cult, Feist, The XX, and many others, came Anais Mitchell...who I adore.
Anais tells stories with her songs. She sets up scenes and players with words in a way that I can only compare to Paul Simon. She is a stellar songwriter and her voice gets you right where it wants to.
Back in September 2011, I went to see Ani Difranco perform at the Pantages Theater with Anais Mitchell opening (I've written about this show before). I was already a fan of Anais's, but had never seen her perform. I was excited for this show and then anxious because the day before my beloved dog Murray died and Anais has a song called "Changer" that just about rips me apart and makes me think of how I felt the day we put him down and I was terrified she would play it and I would burst into a bubble of uncontrollable sobs right there in theater.
I still can't listen to that song - I can't even read the lyrics - without crying. Just tried. Had to stop.
But she didn't play it. Instead she played her song "Shepherd". "Shepherd" tells the story of a farmer working hard to bring in the harvest while a storm moves in at the same time his wife is going into labor and (SPOILER ALERT) she and the baby die.
This song was unreleased at the time and I had never heard it before but the story sucked me in. I knew it wasn't going to end well and I sat on the edge of my seat and when it got to the conclusion, the tears were streaming and I didn't care. It was what I needed.
Music. Immediate. Connecting.
After the show, Anais was out in the lobby at the merch table chatting with people and signing items and all I wanted to do was run up to her and gush and thank her and tell her about my dog and my grief and how her performance moved me and helped me.
But then I thought that would be weird.
So I just went up to her and told her I really enjoyed her set and thanked her for playing...all the while holding back tears. I'm sure I looked like a frightful mess of a person.
I have an easier time listening to this song than "Changer". But still, every time I hear it - whether it's drunken nights in my living room or while playing her album Young Man in America in the car on the way to work - it still brings me right back to that day in September with my still fresh grieving wounds. And the story still makes me cry. And I'm still so thankful for her songs and just music in general for always being there for me.
...........................................
Similarly, about a month ago, I was going through a rough patch. A bad one. Real bad. And one day I just had to get away. So I got in the car and drove around the metro for a couple of hours - finding back roads in the cities I had no idea existed. I didn't have much to listen to in the car at the time that fit my mood. My mix of fun pop songs wasn't going to cut it. But I had The National's Trouble Will Find Me - an album that I extremely disliked when I first got it...and I'm a big fan of The National. It was slow, repetitive. Just didn't excite me.
But I put it in the CD player because it was there and it wasn't Miley Cyrus or Tiffany. And holy shit did that album hit me like a fucking truck. Every single line was exactly my brain at that moment. I don't think I've ever felt more connect to a collection of songs at one moment in time than at that moment. I wanted to keep driving and listening to it on repeat until I was somewhere far, far away. But it also made me want to go back because it made me feel like I wasn't crazy and these emotions were real and felt by others and I shouldn't feel silly about having them.
Music. Immediate. Connecting.
Amongst songs by Cloud Cult, Feist, The XX, and many others, came Anais Mitchell...who I adore.
Anais tells stories with her songs. She sets up scenes and players with words in a way that I can only compare to Paul Simon. She is a stellar songwriter and her voice gets you right where it wants to.
Back in September 2011, I went to see Ani Difranco perform at the Pantages Theater with Anais Mitchell opening (I've written about this show before). I was already a fan of Anais's, but had never seen her perform. I was excited for this show and then anxious because the day before my beloved dog Murray died and Anais has a song called "Changer" that just about rips me apart and makes me think of how I felt the day we put him down and I was terrified she would play it and I would burst into a bubble of uncontrollable sobs right there in theater.
I still can't listen to that song - I can't even read the lyrics - without crying. Just tried. Had to stop.
But she didn't play it. Instead she played her song "Shepherd". "Shepherd" tells the story of a farmer working hard to bring in the harvest while a storm moves in at the same time his wife is going into labor and (SPOILER ALERT) she and the baby die.
This song was unreleased at the time and I had never heard it before but the story sucked me in. I knew it wasn't going to end well and I sat on the edge of my seat and when it got to the conclusion, the tears were streaming and I didn't care. It was what I needed.
Music. Immediate. Connecting.
After the show, Anais was out in the lobby at the merch table chatting with people and signing items and all I wanted to do was run up to her and gush and thank her and tell her about my dog and my grief and how her performance moved me and helped me.
But then I thought that would be weird.
So I just went up to her and told her I really enjoyed her set and thanked her for playing...all the while holding back tears. I'm sure I looked like a frightful mess of a person.
I have an easier time listening to this song than "Changer". But still, every time I hear it - whether it's drunken nights in my living room or while playing her album Young Man in America in the car on the way to work - it still brings me right back to that day in September with my still fresh grieving wounds. And the story still makes me cry. And I'm still so thankful for her songs and just music in general for always being there for me.
...........................................
Similarly, about a month ago, I was going through a rough patch. A bad one. Real bad. And one day I just had to get away. So I got in the car and drove around the metro for a couple of hours - finding back roads in the cities I had no idea existed. I didn't have much to listen to in the car at the time that fit my mood. My mix of fun pop songs wasn't going to cut it. But I had The National's Trouble Will Find Me - an album that I extremely disliked when I first got it...and I'm a big fan of The National. It was slow, repetitive. Just didn't excite me.
But I put it in the CD player because it was there and it wasn't Miley Cyrus or Tiffany. And holy shit did that album hit me like a fucking truck. Every single line was exactly my brain at that moment. I don't think I've ever felt more connect to a collection of songs at one moment in time than at that moment. I wanted to keep driving and listening to it on repeat until I was somewhere far, far away. But it also made me want to go back because it made me feel like I wasn't crazy and these emotions were real and felt by others and I shouldn't feel silly about having them.
Music. Immediate. Connecting.
Friday, April 11, 2014
The Good Stuff
I'm trying not to dwell on how my somewhat half-assed, stay-at-home vacation is almost over. Sure I still have the weekend, but that doesn't count. Because I always have the weekend. It's the not working on the work days that count. And that's almost over.
BIG SIGH.
But life has not been all bummer lately, I guess.
1. I got to go the full electric route with the band and that was so much fun.
2. I made a music video. I don't think I've talked about that here yet.
3. I did manage to write one new song during my time off. It's not the happiest of tunes by a long shot, but I did create something.
4. I took my dog to the lake on a gorgeous Wednesday in the middle of the day and then he posed for this adorable selfie with me.
5. I have officially become obsessed with PJ Harvey. She's always been a favorite. But lately, it goes beyond all the others.
6. I now like The National's most recent album, Trouble Will Find Me. I put it on when I was in a very very down mood and every single lyric hit me.
7. I picked up Series 3 of Sherlock and it is so much better the second time around. Initially I was sort of disappointed by this season, but now I love it. Highly entertaining.
8. Community has been amazing this season. Absolutely back to its fantastic form.
9. I watched seasons 1 and 2 of New Girl on Netflix and am obsessed and waiting and waiting for season 3 to be over and put up on Netflix. It's a very comforting show. I miss them.
10. My friends in the band Grickle-grass reunited for two nights only. They were an awesome band and it was so much fun to hear their songs live again after TEN YEARS! It was a bit of a high school reunion situation. Lots of faces I hadn't seen in a long time. So much fun.
BIG SIGH.
But life has not been all bummer lately, I guess.
1. I got to go the full electric route with the band and that was so much fun.
2. I made a music video. I don't think I've talked about that here yet.
3. I did manage to write one new song during my time off. It's not the happiest of tunes by a long shot, but I did create something.
4. I took my dog to the lake on a gorgeous Wednesday in the middle of the day and then he posed for this adorable selfie with me.
5. I have officially become obsessed with PJ Harvey. She's always been a favorite. But lately, it goes beyond all the others.
6. I now like The National's most recent album, Trouble Will Find Me. I put it on when I was in a very very down mood and every single lyric hit me.
7. I picked up Series 3 of Sherlock and it is so much better the second time around. Initially I was sort of disappointed by this season, but now I love it. Highly entertaining.
8. Community has been amazing this season. Absolutely back to its fantastic form.
9. I watched seasons 1 and 2 of New Girl on Netflix and am obsessed and waiting and waiting for season 3 to be over and put up on Netflix. It's a very comforting show. I miss them.
10. My friends in the band Grickle-grass reunited for two nights only. They were an awesome band and it was so much fun to hear their songs live again after TEN YEARS! It was a bit of a high school reunion situation. Lots of faces I hadn't seen in a long time. So much fun.
Monday, April 7, 2014
Codes
Back on February 25th, I woke up to a call from my sister that my dad had fallen and broken his neck. Ever since, I feel like I've been treading water, just trying not to sink.
My dad is fine now. Well, as fine as anyone can be with a broken neck, no eyesight, an amputated leg, and the beginning signs of a drifting mind. But, he's not paralyzed. So that's something.
But he is off to long-term care in a nursing home. No more assisted living with his own room, microwave, bathroom. He'll have a roommate. In a nursing home. He's 72.
I know of other 72 year olds who are perfectly healthy. My dad is a twin. His twin brother lives in his own home that he's owned since as long as I can remember. He lives there with his wife. He drives. He goes fishing. He can see. He can walk. He can hold conversations. Yet my dad, his twin brother...
How do two people living the same life end up so different?
..................
When confronted with mortality that way, when faced with what is possibly your future, a life cut off due to an illness that gets away from you...you realize how frighteningly short life can be and how every mistake you made, every wrong turn, every sick day spent stuck in bed, every thing you didn't do that you really wanted to, every thing you never tried due to some silly reason...you realize you'll never get that back. Goodbye. It's gone. Too late. You fucked up. The ship has sailed.
.................
I feel that way with music sometimes. Okay, most of the time. I started so late. So very late. And each day that is taken away from me because of work or illness that I don't get to spend trying to make something of this music thing just crushes me.
I've been sick for nearly 3 weeks now. I had one week of reprieve, then it was back. Each time right before a show. Each time I fought my way through the show, doing everything I could to not sound like total shit. I spent the weeks leading up to them avoiding all dairy, guzzling tea, canceling all other plans that I may have been looking forward to for weeks, giving up concert tickets...just so I could sing. Because it's what I love to do.
It's what makes me happy.
And canceling those other things to make that happen...totally worth it. Because for those 45 minutes up on stage, I am happier than I could ever express.
..................
I'm on vacation right now. It's kind of a fake vacation. I have no real reasons to be off of work. I'm not going out of town. It's more a mental health break. I needed some time away from people. The office is very crowded right now and I was really beginning to feel like I was losing it. I haven't had a week off of work in roughly 4 years. And this isn't even a full week off as I have to go to a work training session on Thursday. But I was desperate. So here I am.
But I was also supposed to start recording the next album this past weekend. I had visions of spending this week with my new raw mixes of the new songs, working on vocal arrangements, thinking of what else they'd need.
But 2 hours into recording, the tape machine (because I record analog - no computers) started having issues and we had to cancel. Two months of anticipation and excitement leading up to that weekend and it was over. And it was nobody's fault. Things break. The machine will be fixed. And, honestly, I was sick the whole time and my energy level was low and maybe it was for the best. But, because everyone is busy and time is so fleeting, it looks like we won't get back into the studio until early June. And that sucks.
I'm also staring down 6 weeks of soul crushing awful work at the day job. Having a new album in the works was a blip of positivity, a little happy string to hold onto to get me through. A reminder that I am not my day job. That I am more than pushing papers and spreadsheets.
And then even after we couldn't record, I thought, well, at least I have the week off. I can still work on vocal arrangements. I can still practice.
It was almost a pretend week of what life could be like if I was living it the way I wanted. I even have a show on Friday. It was going to be great.
But I'm still sick.
And I hate it.
And day 1 of vacation is already more than half over. As always, I'm just staring down time.
...................
..................
I feel like I've spent the last 6 weeks waiting for something. I just go through the daily motions, each time hoping nothing gets in the way of what I really want to do. It's a stressful way to live and probably a factor as to why I am sick all of the time.
..................
I complain a lot about being sick. A lot. If I'm around someone who tells me they are sick, I physically cringe and back away. It's become a joke amongst some friends who know of my germaphobia and always make sure to tell me they aren't sick anymore or at the moment.
I've caught colds in the past. My pre-music playing days. And they sucked then. But it was a sick day off of work and then a week or so of coughing and life carrying on as normal. If I decided to say fuck it I'm still going to go to that concert even though it might prolong my illness, oh well. But now, it fucks me up. Mentally.
..................
I have been wanting to be a musician since the 5th grade when I would practice singing along to Whitney Houston - using the vacuum cleaner as a mic stand (works really well). I spent my time alone learning how to play power ballads on my casio keyboard. I still remember when I learned how to play the intro to "Bohemian Rhapsody" and "November Rain". There I was - making a song.
When I got my first acoustic guitar and the first three songs I learned: "Don't Look Back in Anger", "Norweigan Wood", and "You Were Meant for Me"...that was the kicker. Learning to play and sing along with Jewel's "You Were Meant for Me". It was a moment for me. I can do this thing.
Then I discovered Ani Difranco. She was the perfect mixture of the more rock n' roll inspirations that I wanted to be like (Liz Phair, Courtney Love, PJ Harvey) and the acoustic guitar I enjoyed playing. I found a path. I knew what I wanted to do.
But I never did it.
All those years. All of those musicians I've known. All of the local shows I went to and the connections I had. I just let them slip by. Because I was shy. Because I was insecure. Because I thought people would laugh.
......................
Flash forward 10 years later and I got over it. And I loved it. And it was everything I thought it would be and so much more. And it became all I wanted to do. And it consumed my life. And it is all I ever want to talk about. All I ever want to do.
But it's late.
I'm turning 35 this year. I've played shows with people who - in another horrible life - could be my children. I am living the life of a 22 year old while being 35, married, working a full-time job, having a mortgage, paying off major debt, putting my father in a nursing home...it's hard to relate.
And each time I experience a setback of being sick...each time I have to cancel events or plans that involve me + music, it crushes me. Because I feel like I'm running out of time and eventually I'll have to give it up. Because a major breakthrough in my career is not going to happen when I'm 45. Chances of it happening when I'm 34 are slim to none.
But I am trying.
But there is never enough time.
........................
I am an overly dramatic person. Everything is always The Worst. Little things irritate me in a way that I can't even begin to explain.
And the big things, those make me want to crawl into bed and never leave.
I am a very strange combination of a very logical, grounded person and someone who walks around with their head in the clouds. I know I have to go to work every day. I know I need to make money. I know I cant just quit and pack up the car with my guitar and start driving from city to city trying to make a name for myself.
But, oh my goodness do I dream of it and legitimately try to think of ways to make it happen.
.......................
We had a care meeting for my dad a few weeks ago. Me, my sister, my dad, and every doctor and therapist and nurse and administrative person that has been working with him for the past year together in one room to talk about what's next for him. I can't even begin to imagine what that was like for him. To sit there, helpless, listening to what everyone thinks is best for you. You. A grown man. 72 years old. Unable to care for yourself but so very much still wanting to try. Everyone telling you how to live your life and making all of your decisions for you. Right down to when you get to go to the bathroom.
And then his social worker asked him about codes.
"Dennis, we need to talk about codes. If we walk into your room and find you unconscious, no pulse, do you want us to resuscitate?"
It was a question I wasn't prepared to hear. And my eyes started to well up and I looked at him. And he just sat there, staring off into the distance. And then he said "well, I don't want to be a vegetable" and he began to mumble and give scenarios and she asked again:
"Dennis, if we find you in your room, we won't know how long it has been since you were like that. If we find you that way, do you want us to try to resuscitate?"
And he said, "no...I guess not then."
And I...I don't know what I thought.
My dad never wanted to be this way. All his life, he always said if he ever ended up in a home to just kill him. He doesn't want to be a burden.
Yet, here he is. In a home. And he's trying. He's trying to live. All he wants is to be able to be in his own space, doing his own thing. It's all he's ever wanted his whole life. Just leave him alone.
And I honestly don't think he meant it when he said to just leave him to die. But, what else is he going to say? It was like watching a lawyer badger a witness. "Well...we could try...but you might end up brain dead so why bother, right?"
......................
I look at my dad and all of the things in life he wanted. It was never much. And it changed throughout the years, as everyone's desires do. In school, he was a star athlete. I'm sure he had dreams of being a professional athlete.
But he got hurt and then married and then kids and then that was that. Then he just wanted to get up and go to work every day and provide. I've never met anyone who loved going to work more than my dad. Loved it. He voluntarily worked 14 hours a day because he could.
And then that was taken from him.
And then he just wanted to spend time with his grandkids and have fish fries and watch sports.
And then that was taken from him.
And now he's just wants to be able to see. If he could just see, he always says, he could live on his own.
But that was taken from him.
And now I'm sure there is another reason. I don't know what it is. Maybe it's just his stubborness. Maybe he just wants to prove everyone wrong. He wants to show us all that he can bounce back.
But that's being taken from him.
And it's heartbreaking. And terrifying.
.....................
I don't want to be asked about codes someday and in a split second think about my life and where I'll have ended up and all of the things I never got to do for whatever reason and still holding out hope that whatever that thing that keeps me going that that thing might still happen, but I need to decide right now if it's worth it. That's an awful place to be.
.....................
I feel like I have 3 more years to do this. In 3 years I'll be 38. I'll either be where I want to be or I'll still be working administrative jobs in an office and will need to suck it up and realize that's where I'm going to be and I'll have to make the most of it.
3 years.
So when I have setbacks because I'm stuck in an office with someone who comes to work when they are flu-stricken and passes it on to me and I have to cancel musical endeavors, I get so angry. Because I have just 3 years left to get this figured out. And that's not a lot of time. And it's my fault. Because I was too scared to do any of this earlier. And that probably hurts the most. Regret. Why? Why didn't I just try?
I'm not saying that in 3 years I have to quit music. I can still play. I can still write. But the dream will be over. I'll have to put it away and focus on making enough money so I don't have to work until I'm 72 - if I'll even be allowed to do that.
If I'll even be fortunate enough to be physically able to.
Sometimes I think, maybe I'll get into radio. Maybe I should go to school for that. That's music related. I would probably enjoy it.
But time. Time and money. I need to work full-time just to get the basic bills paid. My spare time has to go to my music. School is not an option right now. Because of time. Time and money.
.....................
Priorities. I've learned, for better or worse, to put a laser-like focus on what is important to me. Me. What makes me happy.
But that damn logical, grounded side of my brain keeps getting in the way. You know, the one that comes with age. The one that says, hey, you kind of need to have a place to live. And a car. And food. And a winter coat.
And all the dreaming in the world is not going to give you those things.
.....................
Start the countdown to 38. I hope I'm where I want to be.
My dad is fine now. Well, as fine as anyone can be with a broken neck, no eyesight, an amputated leg, and the beginning signs of a drifting mind. But, he's not paralyzed. So that's something.
But he is off to long-term care in a nursing home. No more assisted living with his own room, microwave, bathroom. He'll have a roommate. In a nursing home. He's 72.
I know of other 72 year olds who are perfectly healthy. My dad is a twin. His twin brother lives in his own home that he's owned since as long as I can remember. He lives there with his wife. He drives. He goes fishing. He can see. He can walk. He can hold conversations. Yet my dad, his twin brother...
How do two people living the same life end up so different?
..................
When confronted with mortality that way, when faced with what is possibly your future, a life cut off due to an illness that gets away from you...you realize how frighteningly short life can be and how every mistake you made, every wrong turn, every sick day spent stuck in bed, every thing you didn't do that you really wanted to, every thing you never tried due to some silly reason...you realize you'll never get that back. Goodbye. It's gone. Too late. You fucked up. The ship has sailed.
.................
I feel that way with music sometimes. Okay, most of the time. I started so late. So very late. And each day that is taken away from me because of work or illness that I don't get to spend trying to make something of this music thing just crushes me.
I've been sick for nearly 3 weeks now. I had one week of reprieve, then it was back. Each time right before a show. Each time I fought my way through the show, doing everything I could to not sound like total shit. I spent the weeks leading up to them avoiding all dairy, guzzling tea, canceling all other plans that I may have been looking forward to for weeks, giving up concert tickets...just so I could sing. Because it's what I love to do.
It's what makes me happy.
And canceling those other things to make that happen...totally worth it. Because for those 45 minutes up on stage, I am happier than I could ever express.
..................
I'm on vacation right now. It's kind of a fake vacation. I have no real reasons to be off of work. I'm not going out of town. It's more a mental health break. I needed some time away from people. The office is very crowded right now and I was really beginning to feel like I was losing it. I haven't had a week off of work in roughly 4 years. And this isn't even a full week off as I have to go to a work training session on Thursday. But I was desperate. So here I am.
But I was also supposed to start recording the next album this past weekend. I had visions of spending this week with my new raw mixes of the new songs, working on vocal arrangements, thinking of what else they'd need.
But 2 hours into recording, the tape machine (because I record analog - no computers) started having issues and we had to cancel. Two months of anticipation and excitement leading up to that weekend and it was over. And it was nobody's fault. Things break. The machine will be fixed. And, honestly, I was sick the whole time and my energy level was low and maybe it was for the best. But, because everyone is busy and time is so fleeting, it looks like we won't get back into the studio until early June. And that sucks.
I'm also staring down 6 weeks of soul crushing awful work at the day job. Having a new album in the works was a blip of positivity, a little happy string to hold onto to get me through. A reminder that I am not my day job. That I am more than pushing papers and spreadsheets.
And then even after we couldn't record, I thought, well, at least I have the week off. I can still work on vocal arrangements. I can still practice.
It was almost a pretend week of what life could be like if I was living it the way I wanted. I even have a show on Friday. It was going to be great.
But I'm still sick.
And I hate it.
And day 1 of vacation is already more than half over. As always, I'm just staring down time.
...................
I was suppose to film an interview and perform some songs for a documentary on the Minnesota folk scene tomorrow. But I've had to cancel. Because I can't sing.
Opportunities and moments that pass by.
I feel like I've spent the last 6 weeks waiting for something. I just go through the daily motions, each time hoping nothing gets in the way of what I really want to do. It's a stressful way to live and probably a factor as to why I am sick all of the time.
..................
I complain a lot about being sick. A lot. If I'm around someone who tells me they are sick, I physically cringe and back away. It's become a joke amongst some friends who know of my germaphobia and always make sure to tell me they aren't sick anymore or at the moment.
I've caught colds in the past. My pre-music playing days. And they sucked then. But it was a sick day off of work and then a week or so of coughing and life carrying on as normal. If I decided to say fuck it I'm still going to go to that concert even though it might prolong my illness, oh well. But now, it fucks me up. Mentally.
..................
I have been wanting to be a musician since the 5th grade when I would practice singing along to Whitney Houston - using the vacuum cleaner as a mic stand (works really well). I spent my time alone learning how to play power ballads on my casio keyboard. I still remember when I learned how to play the intro to "Bohemian Rhapsody" and "November Rain". There I was - making a song.
When I got my first acoustic guitar and the first three songs I learned: "Don't Look Back in Anger", "Norweigan Wood", and "You Were Meant for Me"...that was the kicker. Learning to play and sing along with Jewel's "You Were Meant for Me". It was a moment for me. I can do this thing.
Then I discovered Ani Difranco. She was the perfect mixture of the more rock n' roll inspirations that I wanted to be like (Liz Phair, Courtney Love, PJ Harvey) and the acoustic guitar I enjoyed playing. I found a path. I knew what I wanted to do.
But I never did it.
All those years. All of those musicians I've known. All of the local shows I went to and the connections I had. I just let them slip by. Because I was shy. Because I was insecure. Because I thought people would laugh.
......................
Flash forward 10 years later and I got over it. And I loved it. And it was everything I thought it would be and so much more. And it became all I wanted to do. And it consumed my life. And it is all I ever want to talk about. All I ever want to do.
But it's late.
I'm turning 35 this year. I've played shows with people who - in another horrible life - could be my children. I am living the life of a 22 year old while being 35, married, working a full-time job, having a mortgage, paying off major debt, putting my father in a nursing home...it's hard to relate.
And each time I experience a setback of being sick...each time I have to cancel events or plans that involve me + music, it crushes me. Because I feel like I'm running out of time and eventually I'll have to give it up. Because a major breakthrough in my career is not going to happen when I'm 45. Chances of it happening when I'm 34 are slim to none.
But I am trying.
But there is never enough time.
........................
I am an overly dramatic person. Everything is always The Worst. Little things irritate me in a way that I can't even begin to explain.
And the big things, those make me want to crawl into bed and never leave.
I am a very strange combination of a very logical, grounded person and someone who walks around with their head in the clouds. I know I have to go to work every day. I know I need to make money. I know I cant just quit and pack up the car with my guitar and start driving from city to city trying to make a name for myself.
But, oh my goodness do I dream of it and legitimately try to think of ways to make it happen.
.......................
We had a care meeting for my dad a few weeks ago. Me, my sister, my dad, and every doctor and therapist and nurse and administrative person that has been working with him for the past year together in one room to talk about what's next for him. I can't even begin to imagine what that was like for him. To sit there, helpless, listening to what everyone thinks is best for you. You. A grown man. 72 years old. Unable to care for yourself but so very much still wanting to try. Everyone telling you how to live your life and making all of your decisions for you. Right down to when you get to go to the bathroom.
And then his social worker asked him about codes.
"Dennis, we need to talk about codes. If we walk into your room and find you unconscious, no pulse, do you want us to resuscitate?"
It was a question I wasn't prepared to hear. And my eyes started to well up and I looked at him. And he just sat there, staring off into the distance. And then he said "well, I don't want to be a vegetable" and he began to mumble and give scenarios and she asked again:
"Dennis, if we find you in your room, we won't know how long it has been since you were like that. If we find you that way, do you want us to try to resuscitate?"
And he said, "no...I guess not then."
And I...I don't know what I thought.
My dad never wanted to be this way. All his life, he always said if he ever ended up in a home to just kill him. He doesn't want to be a burden.
Yet, here he is. In a home. And he's trying. He's trying to live. All he wants is to be able to be in his own space, doing his own thing. It's all he's ever wanted his whole life. Just leave him alone.
And I honestly don't think he meant it when he said to just leave him to die. But, what else is he going to say? It was like watching a lawyer badger a witness. "Well...we could try...but you might end up brain dead so why bother, right?"
......................
I look at my dad and all of the things in life he wanted. It was never much. And it changed throughout the years, as everyone's desires do. In school, he was a star athlete. I'm sure he had dreams of being a professional athlete.
But he got hurt and then married and then kids and then that was that. Then he just wanted to get up and go to work every day and provide. I've never met anyone who loved going to work more than my dad. Loved it. He voluntarily worked 14 hours a day because he could.
And then that was taken from him.
And then he just wanted to spend time with his grandkids and have fish fries and watch sports.
And then that was taken from him.
And now he's just wants to be able to see. If he could just see, he always says, he could live on his own.
But that was taken from him.
And now I'm sure there is another reason. I don't know what it is. Maybe it's just his stubborness. Maybe he just wants to prove everyone wrong. He wants to show us all that he can bounce back.
But that's being taken from him.
And it's heartbreaking. And terrifying.
.....................
I don't want to be asked about codes someday and in a split second think about my life and where I'll have ended up and all of the things I never got to do for whatever reason and still holding out hope that whatever that thing that keeps me going that that thing might still happen, but I need to decide right now if it's worth it. That's an awful place to be.
.....................
I feel like I have 3 more years to do this. In 3 years I'll be 38. I'll either be where I want to be or I'll still be working administrative jobs in an office and will need to suck it up and realize that's where I'm going to be and I'll have to make the most of it.
3 years.
So when I have setbacks because I'm stuck in an office with someone who comes to work when they are flu-stricken and passes it on to me and I have to cancel musical endeavors, I get so angry. Because I have just 3 years left to get this figured out. And that's not a lot of time. And it's my fault. Because I was too scared to do any of this earlier. And that probably hurts the most. Regret. Why? Why didn't I just try?
I'm not saying that in 3 years I have to quit music. I can still play. I can still write. But the dream will be over. I'll have to put it away and focus on making enough money so I don't have to work until I'm 72 - if I'll even be allowed to do that.
If I'll even be fortunate enough to be physically able to.
Sometimes I think, maybe I'll get into radio. Maybe I should go to school for that. That's music related. I would probably enjoy it.
But time. Time and money. I need to work full-time just to get the basic bills paid. My spare time has to go to my music. School is not an option right now. Because of time. Time and money.
.....................
Priorities. I've learned, for better or worse, to put a laser-like focus on what is important to me. Me. What makes me happy.
But that damn logical, grounded side of my brain keeps getting in the way. You know, the one that comes with age. The one that says, hey, you kind of need to have a place to live. And a car. And food. And a winter coat.
And all the dreaming in the world is not going to give you those things.
.....................
Start the countdown to 38. I hope I'm where I want to be.
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Frozen Shut(In)
As everyone knows, it's very fucking cold in Minnesota right now. It's cold in most places right now, but the coldest here so we get to complain the loudest.
As of noon today, I hadn't left the house since my trip to the grocery store Saturday morning. Work has been allowing us all to work from home - which is great - but I have no excuse to leave now. I did bundle myself, put the jacket on the dog, and we walked up to the end of the block and back. That's been the height of excitement around here. For all of us.
Robbie is going stir crazy. Serious cabin fever happening. He is constantly getting into things he shouldn't be and chewing on things he shouldn't be. He's normally such a good boy. But he's just so bored. I feel so bad for him.
I have taken up video games again. I broke out Lost Oddysessy. It's a massive turn based RPG of sorts. 4 discs long. It's quite the undertaking. I got to disc 3 the last time I tried playing it and then stopped because I found other things to distract me. I'm on disc 2 now. Gonna try to stick it out.
Otherwise I have been doing nothing. Our offices actually closed due to the cold weather yesterday so I only worked on a couple of must get done things yesterday and then spent the rest of the day with the Xbox. Today, I worked from home which has helped pass the time and bring back into the real world.
As much as I like being home, I am so ready to get out of the house again. Things are having difficulty here. Namely, we are having plumbing problems again and I fear another massively expensive undertaking. It also makes me fearful of using any water in the house for fear it will end up on the basement floor.
I also just need to get out. I have eaten more food in the past week than I did at all through the holidays. Just eating and eating and eating because I'm so bored. It's terrible. I'm breaking out. Blech.
On the flip side, I have a show on Friday at Acadia. 9:30pm. A Friday night show and we play first. That doesn't happen very often. Really looking forward to it.
My song "Thursday" was played as the backdrop for a segment on Sunday's new episode of MN Original on TPT. So that was cool.
Sunday was also the premiere of Downton Abbey. I like Downton Abbey, but I also could not watch it anymore and be fine. It's just kind of there. So many characters and so little time to truly explore them all.
Community returned last Thursday and was awesome and I am so happy it was awesome.
And in two weeks Sherlock returns after two years of waiting. These last few weeks are torturous as it has already premiered in the UK and I have to work really hard at avoiding spoilers. Cannot wait.
We're supposed to hit 30 degrees on Friday. It's gonna feel tropical. I am very excited to take Robbie on all of the walks this weekend.
But, until then, I'll just keep shivering.
As of noon today, I hadn't left the house since my trip to the grocery store Saturday morning. Work has been allowing us all to work from home - which is great - but I have no excuse to leave now. I did bundle myself, put the jacket on the dog, and we walked up to the end of the block and back. That's been the height of excitement around here. For all of us.
Robbie in his jacket.
Robbie is going stir crazy. Serious cabin fever happening. He is constantly getting into things he shouldn't be and chewing on things he shouldn't be. He's normally such a good boy. But he's just so bored. I feel so bad for him.
I have taken up video games again. I broke out Lost Oddysessy. It's a massive turn based RPG of sorts. 4 discs long. It's quite the undertaking. I got to disc 3 the last time I tried playing it and then stopped because I found other things to distract me. I'm on disc 2 now. Gonna try to stick it out.
Otherwise I have been doing nothing. Our offices actually closed due to the cold weather yesterday so I only worked on a couple of must get done things yesterday and then spent the rest of the day with the Xbox. Today, I worked from home which has helped pass the time and bring back into the real world.
As much as I like being home, I am so ready to get out of the house again. Things are having difficulty here. Namely, we are having plumbing problems again and I fear another massively expensive undertaking. It also makes me fearful of using any water in the house for fear it will end up on the basement floor.
I also just need to get out. I have eaten more food in the past week than I did at all through the holidays. Just eating and eating and eating because I'm so bored. It's terrible. I'm breaking out. Blech.
On the flip side, I have a show on Friday at Acadia. 9:30pm. A Friday night show and we play first. That doesn't happen very often. Really looking forward to it.
My song "Thursday" was played as the backdrop for a segment on Sunday's new episode of MN Original on TPT. So that was cool.
Sunday was also the premiere of Downton Abbey. I like Downton Abbey, but I also could not watch it anymore and be fine. It's just kind of there. So many characters and so little time to truly explore them all.
Community returned last Thursday and was awesome and I am so happy it was awesome.
And in two weeks Sherlock returns after two years of waiting. These last few weeks are torturous as it has already premiered in the UK and I have to work really hard at avoiding spoilers. Cannot wait.
We're supposed to hit 30 degrees on Friday. It's gonna feel tropical. I am very excited to take Robbie on all of the walks this weekend.
But, until then, I'll just keep shivering.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
10 Things For 2014
Looking back on previous lists like these, I am really really bad at making things happen. With that said...
1. Make Things Happen.
I need to stop finding excuses to not do something and actually just do those things. From the smallest of things to the largest of things. Just make it happen.
2. Complete the Next Album.
I've got 14 songs for the new album ready to go and another 12 possible ones hanging out in the wings. I am ready to put this thing together.
3. Lose Weight.
Broken record. Cliche. Blah blah blah.
4. Be Positive.
Another thing I am so terribly bad at. I always focus on the negative. I am constantly worried something awful is about to happen. I need to stop that. It's not healthy.
5. Spend More Time With My Dad.
My dad doesn't have a whole lot of years left. Or , at least, you wouldn't think so, but he's crazy resilient. Anyway, he's not doing well and it gets harder and harder to go out there to see him for all of the reasons, but I need to make more of an effort. Especially since the weekly phone call is not something that can happen anymore.
6. Continue To Make a Music Space for Myself in My Home.
It's been a long goal of mine to carve out a space in the basement that I can write and practice and work on demos and all that stuff. But I don't really like basements. They are cold and damp and full of spiders. I have a room in the basement right now that is painted and has carpet and a door and some furniture. But its still really uninviting and it really sucks to grab something and have a spider surprise you. I need to make it spider proof. Anyone know how to do that?
7. Buy an Electric Guitar.
I really want one. A good one.
8. Relearn the Piano and Get a Bit More Technical with Music.
I never really knew how to play. As a child, I bought a couple of books that taught me chords and then a couple of sheet music books of 80s power ballads and stumbled my way through Gloria Estefan classics. But I'd like to be better. I'd like to be able to look at some sheet music, look at the piano, and at least know where to put my fingers with less hesitation. I also am not very technical and gear knowledgeable. I hate to be one of those cliched female musicians who doesn't know/understand what all the knobs do on my amp or electric guitar (when I do finally get one). Time to get into learning mode and not be afraid to ask questions.
9. Learn How to Play Guitar with a Pick.
Yep. I cannot play with a pick. Hence, the long fake fingernails. It's like I have no depth perception and miss the strings 40% of the time I try to strum with a pick. And that's just general strumming. Also why I'm bad at Badminton. This is not a problem with an acoustic, but with an electric, the plastic fingernails just don't sound very good.
10. Paint the Kitchen Wall and Get the Kitchen Light Fixture Changed and Paint the Closet Doors
These are two things I could do tomorrow if I wanted to, so hopefully by the end of 2014 I can say that I did these things. I have been living with this awful gold light fixture in the kitchen for 8 years and I hate it so much. But it's not just changing the fixture, there are wires there, too, and that's why it hasn't been done yet. There is also a wall in the kitchen I want to paint a bright, fun color just to liven things up a bit. And today I decided I want to paint our ugly, white, 1986 style sliding bedroom closet doors another color to make them look somewhat better.
Those are my goals for 2014.
Here's to a wonderful year!
1. Make Things Happen.
I need to stop finding excuses to not do something and actually just do those things. From the smallest of things to the largest of things. Just make it happen.
2. Complete the Next Album.
I've got 14 songs for the new album ready to go and another 12 possible ones hanging out in the wings. I am ready to put this thing together.
3. Lose Weight.
Broken record. Cliche. Blah blah blah.
4. Be Positive.
Another thing I am so terribly bad at. I always focus on the negative. I am constantly worried something awful is about to happen. I need to stop that. It's not healthy.
5. Spend More Time With My Dad.
My dad doesn't have a whole lot of years left. Or , at least, you wouldn't think so, but he's crazy resilient. Anyway, he's not doing well and it gets harder and harder to go out there to see him for all of the reasons, but I need to make more of an effort. Especially since the weekly phone call is not something that can happen anymore.
6. Continue To Make a Music Space for Myself in My Home.
It's been a long goal of mine to carve out a space in the basement that I can write and practice and work on demos and all that stuff. But I don't really like basements. They are cold and damp and full of spiders. I have a room in the basement right now that is painted and has carpet and a door and some furniture. But its still really uninviting and it really sucks to grab something and have a spider surprise you. I need to make it spider proof. Anyone know how to do that?
7. Buy an Electric Guitar.
I really want one. A good one.
8. Relearn the Piano and Get a Bit More Technical with Music.
I never really knew how to play. As a child, I bought a couple of books that taught me chords and then a couple of sheet music books of 80s power ballads and stumbled my way through Gloria Estefan classics. But I'd like to be better. I'd like to be able to look at some sheet music, look at the piano, and at least know where to put my fingers with less hesitation. I also am not very technical and gear knowledgeable. I hate to be one of those cliched female musicians who doesn't know/understand what all the knobs do on my amp or electric guitar (when I do finally get one). Time to get into learning mode and not be afraid to ask questions.
9. Learn How to Play Guitar with a Pick.
Yep. I cannot play with a pick. Hence, the long fake fingernails. It's like I have no depth perception and miss the strings 40% of the time I try to strum with a pick. And that's just general strumming. Also why I'm bad at Badminton. This is not a problem with an acoustic, but with an electric, the plastic fingernails just don't sound very good.
10. Paint the Kitchen Wall and Get the Kitchen Light Fixture Changed and Paint the Closet Doors
These are two things I could do tomorrow if I wanted to, so hopefully by the end of 2014 I can say that I did these things. I have been living with this awful gold light fixture in the kitchen for 8 years and I hate it so much. But it's not just changing the fixture, there are wires there, too, and that's why it hasn't been done yet. There is also a wall in the kitchen I want to paint a bright, fun color just to liven things up a bit. And today I decided I want to paint our ugly, white, 1986 style sliding bedroom closet doors another color to make them look somewhat better.
Those are my goals for 2014.
Here's to a wonderful year!
Sunday, December 29, 2013
2013 In Pictures, Part 2
Window watching.
Snuggle times.
Cabin on the lake trip with good friends.
Wedding anniversary.
The National.
More rock shows in the park.
West Bank bocce.
Turning 34.
State Fair cheese on a stick.
State Fair Happy Hours.
Dog Days at the museum.
Robbie paintings.
Southside Desire music video props.
Relaxing Sundays.
Scout Niblett at Icehouse.
Turf Club Birthday shows.
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