post Thanksgiving

Ok yeah it's been a few months. A week ago tomorrow I was driving back from OH. For some reason (not weather, which was fine) there were TONS of accidents and the drive back took 12.5 hours. No joke. I guess I could spend the time on the phone, but that feels like it adds stress to an already endless drive, as calls are constantly getting dropped or the connection is bad. Could we fix that please, cell technology people? So I listened to a chunk of a book (TC Boyle's When The Killing's Done), some podcasts, some music on random shuffle. Stopped a few times, but not for long.

The visit was good, as usual, but I also find myself getting tired of the constant interaction, even though they're people I want to interact with. Some of the family are legit nuts, which does not mean I don't love them, but they're nuts. They'd be quirky and funny if there weren't repercussions of their weirdnesses. I felt like my sister and brother and their peeps were some of the sole bastions of normalcy. Glad my father's still around, sad that he's still in so much pain. And my back issues are not going away and in fact seem to be getting worse, so I broke down and made an appt. to be seen by my NP, who will probably refer me to a specialist and/or for tests. Maybe the result will just be "stop being fat" but I've already had an MRI years ago that showed damage/arthritis.

This year was also tough because as usual peoples' lives are moving on while I stay in place. My own niece (who wasn't there) getting married, my 20s cousins getting engaged or bringing their boyfriends, my sister's new boyfriend (who yes, is awesome and is my pal), kids, the new MD...As usual, I'm happy for them but sad for myself. I try not to talk too much about myself because it just sounds depressing to me. I could make it sound good, but the truth is I'm not doing anything I love or is leading anywhere or is satisfying and I'm not making enough $$. And every year I'm alone. Alone again. That's just my state of being now.

We did make a rap video for Tomar's 98th and that was fun. I look like an absolute monster in it, though, which is always depressing. Tomar's paranoid and has some dementia but she's really still with it for the most part. I'm reading Dark Tide about the Boston molasses flood of 1919 (fascinating and terrible) and I realized that she was alive then. A baby, but alive. 

rubble jumping

Had a dream last night that I was in some sort of dystopian, burnt out disaster area and you had to hire drivers to get you around because it was like the site of an earthquake. And apparently these drivers were able to somehow jump their cars over all the rubble and smashed buildings, even though they seemed to be regular cars. So I got into one of these cars with some other people and we jumped over a bunch of rubble. This was apparently very dangerous. But I made it to wherever I was going, which was some sort of event or performance. By the way, the driver was a woman. That's all I remember. This dystopian theme has come back a few times, and it's certainly not because I'm watching a lot of Hunger Games-type movies. But I guess I do feel like I'm surrounded by a disaster of a life that I can't fix, need help to get through. Or something.

curry pizza = mmm

Been having lots of trouble sleeping, mostly because it's 400 degrees in here. Ok, it's in the high 80s, but who can sleep in that shit? Only people who like extreme heat, aka fools. Truth is, I do have an air conditioner, but it's 1.) in a closet that would be tough to get at 2.) usually not necessary but this summer has been very hot, 3.) expensive to run, 4.) wouldn't be able to go in my bedroom since those windows open horizontally. So fans it is. And it's miserable. Poor Rocco is trying to keep cool. I like when I get to be in my car, or any air conditioned space. How are there people who don't like a/c? What is wrong with those people??

I woke up the night before last on my back and choking. This has happened before. I think it's an acid thing, part of the LPR. It's pretty scary because there really is a moment where you wonder if you're going to choke to death. All that would probably go away with weight loss, since I'm a fat fuck, in Penn's words (describing his prior self and most American people).

I'm currently reading his new book and it's depressing me, like a lot. It's all about this insane diet he went on to lose 100 lbs, eating just potatoes for two weeks, then very strict after that and evermore. Only plants. There's actually a chapter title that's a quote from his diet guru, a guy who's a former NASA scientist and fringey kinda nut, saying something like, "Maybe you've eaten enough good food for your life". Meaning, you ate shitty SAD (Standard American Diet) up until now. Now you're done and food will only be sustaining from now on. It won't be social, it won't be enjoyable. Miserable. And yet...100 lbs.

I talked to my cousin about this, former chef and even former vegan chef at times, and he agreed that it's not necessary to go that extreme. Then I had a specialty curry pizza with him and the rest of the fam.

It's a week of meetings: Haunted Harmonies meetings, WACA board meeting, WACA staff meeting, WACA consultation, meeting with a friend about some annoying thing going on on Mhead Garage, a few others. I'm not used to all this meetingacation. Meetingosity.

And now it's time to get ready for the WACA board meeting. 

dream

Dream: I'm vacationing in Nepal, or some place like that. But I find out that my "hotel" is actually a curb in front of a building, staying with a woman and her 17 year old son, and their horse. And the "bed" is literally the curb, as in you use the curb as a pillow. I try to move the bedding so that the kid isn't getting kicked by the horse, but for some reason the mother is not ok with this. I find the guy who booked this trip, he works at a bank. He's a caucasian businessman type. And he doesn't care about my predicament. But in comes his boss, an Asian guy who at first seems so sympathetic and says we need to make this right, but then the two of them start speaking to each other in (whatever language they speak), and laughing. At me. I ask them what's going on and they confess they're not going to help me. I tell them I'd rather sleep on the floor of this bank then the curb of a street. Back at the curb, a woman puts her arm around me and tells me she has a great place for me. I tell her I have no more money, I've spent it all in my budget, and she says I won't have to. But it seems sketchy. Turns out I'll have to work as, essentially, an indentured servant for a while in Canada to pay back my way. I tell her no thanks.

[this is when I wake up]

My dreams are a reflection of how unstable I feel. And alone. Sometimes I'm so happy when Rocco wakes me up. 

to be avoided at all costs

Observing some people I know and their marriages (friends and family), and in this Kenyon FB support group where people talk very honestly about their personal lives (I don't say much of anything, actually, because the responses are universally supportive, of the "fuckety fuck fuck*, that's terrible. we're here for you" variety, and I don't find that helpful from people I don't know), I am astounded at how many people are in downright tire fires of relationships. Disasters. People are married to abusive addicts of all stripes and are staying with them, people are in marriages that started out with both parties cheating and went downhill from there, people who complain when their spouse gets invited to major events with them, children who are terrible to them... And yet they stay. Why? Sometimes they'd say it's "for the kids", but there's no way these situations can benefit kids. Just no way. As the child of a truly terrible divorce, there's nothing worse than being a kid in the middle of that kind of battlefield, especially when there's been a time when things have been good. But mostly I think they stay because the idea of being single is the worst possible thing they can conceive of. MY SITUATION IS THE WORST POSSIBLE THING THEY CAN CONCEIVE OF. They stay in downright nightmare scenarios rather than be brave and be single, because it's inconceivable and terrifying. And yet when I say I'd like to not be single, I'm shamed, I'm told I shouldn't want a relationship, all the cliches like "it will happen when you stop looking" (which...I'm running out of time, folks). Whenever I bring it up with R, he sighs and says, "Ug, not this again" and shuts it down. It doesn't matter that it's painful to me, that it's a loss, something that breaks my heart. To him it's just an annoyance. We can't talk about it. He won't do it. Others are the same, so I rarely do talk about it. And each day I understand myself to be damaged, unlovable, and in a situation that's to be avoided at all costs, even if it means staying in the worst relationships prisons. Change, and singleness. Those are scarier. And yet here I am.

*this seems to be the group thing everyone says and thinks is adorable. I would argue otherwise. another reason I tend to keep quiet. 

vacuum the rug

I've been meaning to write for a while, but on the other hand, there's no pressure to. Uh...I've officially taken over as Executive Director of WACA, and at the same time we brought on several new people, so I've been getting them all settled and making sure they're comfortable in what they're doing. We've switched board focus to fundraising, so I'll be working on that too as soon as I can, and have started a bit of it. It all feels a bit disjointed. I've also switched us to Slack for project management, which is good so far, a way to keep all our conversations and tasks in one organized place. Still, I'm unsure how interested I am in all of this. I miss music, or maybe I never was part of it. But I miss being part of it for real. I dream about PTX a lot, because they're so young and fame came for them so quickly with little effort.

I've been dealing with lots of car issues. My subframe (that holds in the engine) was rotted and had to be replaced. Somehow I managed to get Mitsubishi to replace it, because it really should not have happened, and though it's out of warranty, I emailed them and they called me and they did fix it. That's great. What's not great is that it still needs 3 other imminent repairs that I'm dealing with. It's tiring, as this process has been going on since May. Phone calls, emails, estimates, trips to Midas and the dealer and the local mechanic. Meanwhile I'm driving on borrowed time, as some of these things are about to go, so they'll need to get fixed next week. Other financial issues are being dealt with as well. Meanwhile, I need a new phone (on its last legs) and mattress, as my current (very old) one is causing me a lot of back pain, sometimes so much so that I've been having trouble even walking (though not for the past few weeks, luckily). Stupid car. And seeing what my father goes through sometimes I wonder if I'm seeing my own future, if I'll be walking bent over too.

I saw yesterday's Casey Neistat vid where he's in Punta Cana (because of COURSE he is) and swims in this beautiful lagoon.

I almost cried watching it, because that kind of water is my dream, that is my home. For him, it's just another day. He's somewhere else adventuring every day. I'm mostly at home. Worrying. Trying to keep the existential crisis at bay. What's what cartoon about that?

I'm definitely no good at not letting it set in. It's always there. I wish I had more to feel hopeful about, I wish I had someone who had my back. I make the macaroni. 

Operation Fatass

It's never good when two nurses literally gasp at how high your BP is, but that is what happened to me a few days ago. My NP put me on a med because it'd been high for a while, but I was warned that the med often caused a cough that didn't go away and I got that cough (and still have it). So I was going in for the BP check and to talk about a new med. And that's when it happened. How embarrassing. They told me to take the new med that day (I actually just got it today) because it was so alarmingly high. I really am falling apart. I think of myself as healthy but I'm definitely way too sedentary. And I've been so so tired lately. How much of it is a feedback loop where all the negative effects of the BP cause me to just want to be more sedentary?

Gotta get this under control, all of it, but I also feel so hopeless that it's hard to feel motivation about much of anything. Hell, I'm now in the "over 50" category where you're just lumped in with people who are in all of the decades above you. You're just OLD. I'm not ready to be old. Still, I resent having my health (and mid-level attractiveness) taken from me and I want it back, so let's see if I can get it back. Operation Fatass has begun.

New name, maybe?

I don't know. Seems fitting. 

compassion tax

Every day there are reminders that it's expensive to be poor. Some are more acutely felt than others. I haven't had the funds to pay my (bullshit) car excise tax ($60) but I got a little bit of money on some work I've done (still waiting for payment on last month's event) and decided to pay it since it was late. That meant pushing back other things that were also late and aren't bullshit, like gas and electric. But I took the check over to the office and left it with a note explaining that it was late not because I'd forgotten but because I didn't have the money, but here it was, the first time I'd had it since I got the bill. Today I received the check back with a note to call because I'd paid late and that meant I'd incurred fees. So I called and was told I owed another $15. I told them I'd left a note and they really had to send me the check back for $15? Yes, we legally can't take it unless you pay the late fees. Now, I'm gonna guess this, too, is bullshit, and they could take it if they wanted to, but that compassion is in short supply in a town where money reigns supreme. "Thanks for your compassion", I told her, and then, as is the way of all Massholes, she got mad back at me, because how dare I call someone on their bullshit tax and their bullshit fees on top of their bullshit tax. What's this tax FOR? But yet again, another slap in the face that I'm not a functional adult. And yet I'm working my ass off, not enough hours in the day. Not even time to write this, in fact, but I wanted to put it somewhere. In fact, now I'm going to bill for a design job I just finished, and maybe ask about payment from last month (which I hate to do, since I'm always the one asking - noone else seems to need it).

It's expensive to be poor.

In addition, my back has been hurting so much lately it hurts just to stand or cough, let alone do anything else. I desperately need a new mattress. I am trying to avoid my father's fate. Sometimes I'm bent over like him because I'm hurting so much. Highly doubtful that painkiller addiction is in my future but the back issues have been issues for a while. I was told years ago (when I had an MRI) that I had "the back of a 65 year old". I need a gym membership and a mattress. But instead I flip the old one and hope that suffices again.

And do stretches. 

Mem-lanta

Back from Memphis and Atlanta, and finally able to start to process it all after months of relentless work, and actually we've already started working on next year's event and that work's already backing up, but I have to attend to some other things first...

• After a few months of trying to make a hair appt (she's cut back her hours! she's sick! there's a pre-marathon marathon and the city is inaccessible!), it was down to the night before I left and the only option was to do it myself which I'd never done before, and...it didn't come out half bad. Don't think I'll make it a habit and I'll never try to cut it myself, but...hey, it worked.
  
• After exhausting every possible option and doing tons of research on how to get from Memphis to Atlanta after finding out that driving would be insanely expensive due to the "drop off fee", I found a $100 plane fare. Wee.
  
• As usual, the event was exhausting and difficult for me, but I got through it. On Fri, I judged the competition in addition to producer duties. Sat, I masterclassed 4 groups, taught 2 classes, sat on a panel discussion, did producer duties. Oh I also had a meeting with two WACA team members during my one hour of down time. The non-performing aspect is always difficult, esp when the headliners are the Swingles. So at the top of their game, so beloved. And it was the first time I'd seen N in a few years, first time married, and he didn't ask anything about me and his response to "how are you?" was, typically, "tired". He did tell some really funny stories (to the people gathered around), but...yeah. I just flashed back to when we were driving down to NYC and he said he knew noone in the community. He/we would meet and hear the Swingles for the first time that weekend. Now he's married to one, living in London, his life is totally different. Whatevs with all of that. Again, I wondered: what's it like to go into an event respected and beloved? My classes are getting incrementally better, to far too slow for my taste, and need tweaking each time I do them. There was also an issue with hotel rooms where we should have had our own but then the guy who set them up sneakily put me in a room with someone else without telling us, and she'd invited someone else to share her room so there would have been 3 of us, and truly, I need some downtime in these events where there's literally none, so I pushed back on and that and felt like a dick and it got worked out and they were fine with it, but that was our agreement and as someone who is very introverted, it's essential to me. Was amazing to hear so many people talk about how the event changed their lives and ultimately we had over 850 there. It is an amazing event.
  
• I saw even less of Memphis this year because I was there for less time. Wish that weren't the case.
  
• Then onto Atlanta. Kids are adorable, 2 and 4. Since I just saw them a few months ago, they hopefully remembered me. But they're at that age where they're just as likely to answer you when you ask a question as they are to ignore you. And lots and lots of tantrums. Which are tolerable to parents (biological imperative), but ug, not to non-parents, or not to me, at least. I know I'm not supposed to say that, and I've never said or expressed frustration to a child (and I've been a babysitter and nanny many times), but I have little tolerance for tantrums, though I understand very well that's what kids do. I mean, my own brother was my lesson in that, 10 years younger than me, and a tantrum machine, but absolutely adorable at other times. I know that non-parents aren't supposed to speak this out loud, because it prompts haughty people to say or at least think "well, it's a good thing you're not a parent then!" Fuck you. I'm just saying tantrums are annoying. BECAUSE THEY ARE. I don't care that they're part and parcel of what kids do. I get that. They're still annoying. And I'm allowed to feel that. But we worship parents and mommy-culture, and we shun non-parents, so we're not allowed to voice these thoughts. Anyways, Dave and Nath are very patient with them. But they are very sweet. V has a box of things she calls her "nature box" that just has, well, things from nature. I'm going to send her some semi-precious stones to add to it. That was - and is - always something I loved too.
  
• Went to World of Coke, Ga Aquarium, bbq, Mexican foodz, etc. World of Coke is a soda fever dream. Absolutely nuts. 

lemme sweep that for ya

A few years ago, I had an ongoing issue with an excruciating pain in my hip. It would only last a few seconds at a time, which is the only reason it was tolerable, because it was was astoundingly painful, a electrical nerve pain, like being stabbed from the inside with a hot knife. Then, after months and months, it went away. Now it's back, but on my right thigh, right above the knee. Occurs every 20 mins or so (happening right now, actually). Waking me up all night. My NP thinks it's coming from a spinal nerve being pinched, which is why it isn't tied to any movement, position, or lack thereof. I'm sleeping even more terribly than usual because of it because of the STABBING LEG PAIN. Probably need an MRI and PT. But mostly I'm just pissed off because it's been months of this already, months of gritting through the pain when I'm with people so that I don't have to explain it (which noone wants to hear anyways), of yet another issue.

[next day]

Lately I've been referring to myself as the aca-janitor, the person in a cappella world who does all the shitty, behind the scenes jobs that are crucial. The ones that noone notices, that are never seen on stage, that have nothing to do with actual music, that never get praise. I miss music, I miss being able to care about it. I guess I should have become a cellist or something more utilitarian rather than assuming I could be a singer or a capital P Performer, since everyone sees me as a sour shrinking violet, shy, reserved, weird, aloof, bitchy, whatever the fuck. If I'd chosen something like that, I would have likely had an actual career. But instead I help facilitate music. For others. Not for me anymore, and I don't feel comfortable with it. SheSings was exhausting and heartbreaking, as I watched how beloved Lisa is, and how people gathered around her and thanked and praised her and rightfully so, and how can I even THINK that I could take that place? Noone loves me like that, personally or professionally. I'm barely tolerated by people who know me. I'm alone, and I know that my friends and family secretly probably say they know why (I'm unlovable), so how can I guide an organization like this? How can I do it when I miss music so much, when I feel so inadequate as a musician?

It's so bittersweet to work so hard for a year on an event like SheSings that moves and inspires so many people, and just walk away exhausted. There were multiple transportation nightmares, BART is annoying, my family blew off the show I put them on the guest list for, my sister is now talking about moving in with her boyfriend (that she started dating in Dec) and I'm still as alone as ever. As ever. As ever. As ever. 

Loss

Vic didn't make it. It seemed like he might for a little while, at least based on the garbled info I was getting, but I also know that some of it came from the stepbro, deep into magical thinking, who was sure a "miracle" would occur [Here's a good instance of how and when religion does real harm]. But one problem snowballed into another into another, and then his body could not sustain all the damage and infection that was there. This shouldn't have happened. It's heartbreaking. I feel so badly for the whole family. Stepsis told me how he died (she was the only one there at that moment) and how amazing it was for her, and I'm glad she got to have those last moments with him. In this process I also learned more about her and how her place in the family resulted in some traits that never made sense to me before. Isn't it interesting how Large Events can teach us unexpected things?

Here's a little video my brother made:

This is actually a good representation of him, and there were some great articles about him too.

------------

Normally I don't think much about Valentine's Day. I'm so used to being alone that it mostly doesn't register. This year, however, I'm gutted. All day I've been on the verge of tears or crying. This is significant as I'm not one of those weepy women who knows that a man will rush to her side when the tears fall and dab her cheeks. So I don't cry much about my own shit, though I do often for others. Last night I judged an event I really didn't want to judge (just because I'm tired of this), and came home in sub-zero temps to find that Rocco had thrown up on my bed. This rarely happens, but when it does it's WAY more inconvenient than it would be for a normal adult, one who has their own laundry. But without that, it means another drudgery trip to the laundromat. So that's where I went today, so if you thought that Valentine's Day couldn't be more depressing on its own, imagine what it's like spending it cleaning cat vomit off of your bedding, at a laundromat, when it's single digits outside. That, my friends, is fucking pathetic. And I can't tell anyone how terribly sad I feel, because when I do, I'm told (as I was when I reached out to one friend recently, and never will again), that I'm "fishing".

My recently divorced sister now has a boyfriend and is spending the week in NYC with him. That one hurts. In fact, it's like a stab in the heart, an indictment of my own failure, that she somehow turned our father's surgery and ICU stay into meeting a boyfriend. [I'm editing here. I'm editing my OWN DAMN BLOG. That noone reads. Jesus.] Another friend whose boyfriend moved out recently is in a serious relationship with someone new. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?? Seeing everyone talk about the loves of their lives, how they're better with (that person), how they could not be without them...

So call it "fishing" or whatever you want, but since noone reads this, it matters not: several times today (more than usual), I have wished I was dead. I cannot see a better future for me. I cannot see myself NOT alone. I am heartbroken and tired. I do not want to be here. I want a way out.

Vic

My steps' father, Vic, is a great guy. They also have two half brothers, who are also awesome. He's a  huge personality, he's a media guy, working for the betterment of the Youngstown area, an ardent cheerleader for decades. He has this dog that goes everywhere he goes, but the dog really only loves him. He's also been one of my biggest cheerleaders, always interested in what I'm doing, think it's fascinating. Just very open and loving. When I drove to OH, I drove to my father and stepmother's house but noone was there because my father was in the ICU, having just had surgery and my stepmother was staying in a hotel nearby (at the Cleveland Clinic, 60 miles from Youngstown). So I met Vic for dinner, we went to my fave Bob Evans and had a great time. He got chicken pot pie which for some reason had NO CHICKEN IN IT, and the server was horrified, and gave him a bunch of chicken, which he gave to Harley, the dog. He told me that he was having a surgery of his own that next week, a back surgery. He did, and then he was in a rehab place in Pittsburgh.

When we were in the ICU with my dad, we kept joking (black comedy) "don't get MRSA!" and using the antibacterial foam that they have everywhere. The irony that hospitals are the most dangerous places, infection-wise.

But that's what happened to Vic. He got a staph infection. He was in and out of consciousness, at times paranoid (as was my dad when he was coming out). I have only gotten bits and pieces of info because the steps' are understandably distraught. I've heard some from my sister, who I think has heard from our stepmother. Currently he's in organ failure, and last I heard, they'd been told to start thinking about funeral arrangements (!!) You have to understand that I saw him in Nov and he was FINE. Now he's clinging to life. I am so mad at the medical establishment that I am generally so supportive of. People should not go in for a routine surgery and leave dead because we cannot keep them clean enough. We know about bacteria and how it spreads and how to DISINFECT things, right? How does this happen? I'm hoping he'll pull through. All I know from the bits I've gotten are:

- organ failure
- told to plan for funeral
- "fighting to stay alive"

Vic, you've got to pull through this. You're too big a personality to not to be here. 

curly vs. straight

Yep, you're always starting from ugly. My hair was straightened from last Sat to today. I washed it today and it's back to curly. I am in mourning.