I’m way too busy at work right now to even think about posting something legitimate. But I’ve been having some serious thoughts, so be excited.
Anyway, for your viewing pleasure, my son Carlos.
Dear lord, I love him. February 10th will mark our two-year adoption anniversary!
As I type this, 750 people have signed the Mullen petition (text above). I know some of them. I’ve been reading the comments – of course they’re biased, but they are very telling about how Mullen has handled the last few years. As a member of the class of 2006, I am proud of the education I received, but I can honestly say that I’ve not heard any positive news coming out of Mullen since I left. While I know that a lot of people think that there must have been some grievous offense committed by Dave Logan prior to his firing, I am not necessarily ready to believe that. I’m also not supportive of this current administration. I am saddened that the attempts to revive Mullen have resulted in the utter destruction of its reputation.
Today is one of those days where I’m just going to throw random thoughts at you. And then you’ll read them. Or you won’t.
-Kevin is amazing. Just wonderful. It snowed a bit today, so he gave me his key and told me to take his car to work. Now that I’m used to it, I really like driving his SUV. And the four-wheel drive really comes in handy. I’m glad I get to keep him. The only thing left to do is have him meet Mom. I don’t anticipate any problems there.
-I mailed my application. I started holding my breath, then realized that was a dumb idea and stopped. (That didn’t actually happen, just so we’re clear.) We’ll know in about a month. Keep your fingers crossed. I really want this. I’m trying not to get too excited, just in case there’s a letdown coming, but I’m not going to lie, I’m hoping that this is the beginning of the best adventure of my life. I’m going to rock as a sex therapist. I’m going to rock as a marriage therapist. I’m going to rock as a family therapist. I’m just going to rock.
-Shopping for nice boots is nasty business. I bought two pairs from Nordstrom online (their customer service is SO good). Now that I’ve received them, returned one pair, and received a replacement, I’m not sure that I like either pair. (Kevin said that one of the pairs looked like rain boots, which I think is the worst criticism you could ever give a pair of boots – I hate rain boots because they just swallow up my legs.) So now I’m thinking about returning all of them and not buying any boots. Or just keeping the cheap pair I have now. And to think of all the jeans I could buy for the money I spent on boots! (Not that many, actually, but still, new jeans are new jeans.)
-I’m a terrible mother: after two years of owning the beast, I had neglected to register his microchip. (I swear, I thought I had!) The microchip people had a completely different idea of where the microchip was, so I’m glad it’s all taken care of now. We took him to the Dumb Friends League on Saturday to get his microchip scanned to make sure it was working. We also took the opportunity to look at dogs. It was really sad – we were waiting in the intake room to get Carlos scanned and there were so many people giving up their pets. The woman’s relief was palpable when I told her that I just wanted to check his chip. I’m sure she thought that we were there to sign him over. Of course, he wouldn’t come out of his carrier (you have to fight to get him in, fight to get him out…it’s a whole mess), so she just reached in to scan him. He was such a trooper. After that errand, we ended up at Costco, so he stayed in the car while we shopped. The poor little guy was so happy to be home, he ran out of the carrier as soon as I set him down. I think he thinks he’s going to get returned to the shelter every time we get in the car.
-Dave Logan isn’t going to be the coach of Mullen anymore. Interesting. I’m curious to find out why he’s out. I’m even more curious to find out what direction they’re planning on taking the football program.
-The Broncos game on Sunday was amazing! I was starting to panic and then all of a sudden, it was over. We’d won. Hugs all around and even a high five from the Steelers fan next to me. I’m looking forward to seeing the game on Saturday – I’m hoping (although not confident) that we will win. Kevin took me with him to the Nuggets game on Monday night. (So much sports crammed into so little time!) I really like watching basketball – I need to start doing more of it. It was a really good game, even though we lost.
…well, this was an eloquent post. Here’s hoping for something more coherent tomorrow.
I fear greatly the answers to the questions surrounding death. It pains me to think too much about any of it. Rather than the belief in something after, I believe solely in attempting to make the best of these precious earth-bound moments. And yet, usually catching me entirely unaware, the thoughts creep back into my brain. What lies after? How can we succinctly tie our own spiritualities with the scientific, with the known, with the cold reality of it all?
I remember the immensity that was the moment – that singular moment – when we put down our beloved golden retriever. His head coming to rest for the last time on my shoe. My jerky response as I stood, smashing into the paper towel dispenser. The nurse (nurse? vet tech? lady in scrubs?) attempting to comfort me and me pushing her away because the tears were coming too fast and I couldn’t wait to break away and be alone, where no one would see me crying. I realize that this is in no way comparable to the deaths of those humans we come to love so much, but then again, I think perhaps that even those mammalian deaths hold the keys to true humanity. The singularity that ties us all together: love.
No matter how it happens, death holds some sort of quiet whisper, a moment in which time stops rushing and instead, lingers for the exhale. It’s not something that will ever leave you. (I do not speak as one wizened by so many experiences, thankfully, although the few that I have had with death have been personally profound.)
I was reading in the bathtub (now that I’m taking baths again, my reading material has multiplied immensely) and I found myself falling in love with the protagonist of the book I’d just started – it’s been languishing in one of my book suitcases (yes, I have those) for ages and I’ve just now gotten around to picking it up. She embodies, for the moment, everything I find wonderful: strength, intelligence, determination, the juxtaposition of masculine and feminine, beauty, courage. And yet, I found myself terrified that she’d die before the end of the book. In that moment, I was certain of her death. I flipped to the last page (a terrible habit, but one I take great comfort in – I even do it with romance novels, and you know from the third page how those are going to end) and sure enough, she dies. It’s a beautiful death, really, her soul personified by birds. But now I’m happier to read about her life. I can take comfort in the fact that I already know how she dies, yet I’ve not at all ruined the book for myself.
This is the point of all of this, I guess: even though you can not know the exactness of your own death, you know that at a certain point, it must come. I look at those yellow feline eyes that I love so much and realize that I can’t keep them forever. I push away the melancholy thoughts, realizing that loving him now is so much better than focusing on the pain I’ll feel when he’s gone. I circle back, from time to time, working myself up thinking about the emptiness that the deaths of those I love will leave. I think it stems from the knowledge that one day, I will be without my mother. In my attempts to soothe myself, I have begun to steel myself against the void I know will exist. Void is inadequate. It will be like a roaring vacuum. It will pull at the edges of my soul.
But it is natural. (I remember this book they got us to teach us about death. I’ll never forget how incredibly mystified I was when I read it. I hated the book and yet something drew me to it. It calmly taught children that everything must die, and yet it horrified me. I hated connecting dead leaves to people. Something resonated somewhere deep inside of me. I often think of that book and wonder what it would be like to read it again now. I wonder if it’s in a box somewhere in a basement.)
Death and taxes, they say. But they’re not wrong. To know the eventuality of it before it happens is to hope that one will be able to fully embrace everything that is life knowing the finality of it all. The chance to struggle and create, to learn and understand, to think, to feel, to be, to love passionately and freely is a gift. Those moments are the footprints we leave behind. To love deeply and live fully are my only goals. If at my funeral, people don’t laugh and tell horrifyingly embarrassing yet endearing stories, I will be incredibly bummed. Life is a wild adventure. It’s beautiful and bittersweet.
Either way, it is certain. It’s comforting, in a way, to know that everyone has to do it. Someone’s doing it right now. Someone did it yesterday and someone will do it tomorrow. We are all born and we will all die, but what we do in between belongs solely to us. That’s the best part.
I sincerely hope that parenthood is as satisfying as pet ownership.
Everyone I know makes fun of me for loving Carlos so much. I understand. Cats are weird. Black cats are weirder. People who own cats are obviously incapable of any sort of normal social interaction. We spend all day locked in our houses, knitting or just rocking back in forth in creaking rocking chairs tapping our nails, occasionally reaching for the remote because the Price is Right has ended but Judge Judy has not yet begun and we need to watch some Cops to fill the time.
Okay, so it’s not quite like that.
After Africa, Carlos didn’t speak to me for the better part of a month. I am still not sure if he didn’t remember me or if he was that mad at me. Even now, whenever I pack a bag or something, he wants to get in and inspect it. He’ll crawl right into my backpack or jump into a suitcase, determined not to be left behind.
So after being gone for six days, I was worried I’d be hearing some complaints from him, or at the very least, the silent treatment. (Mike sent me a picture of him and the cat snuggling. I was worried that the cat had switched sides – Carlos usually avoids Mike, even though Mike wants to be friends with him. This is tentative proof of Carlos’ food-for-love program in which he switches allegiances strategically depending on who’s in charge of feeding him.)
I got home. I was checking email and Carlos came over to sit on me, so I moved the laptop off my stomach and let him knead himself into a ball. His soft cat sigh as he fell asleep on me was all the assurance I needed. Last night, I could tell he was feeling particularly possessive: I woke up several times during the night to find him curled on my stomach, on my back, across my feet.
There’s something oddly wonderful about this sort of love. Of course he’s stressful. Cat AIDS is a running joke now, but I’m sure that when he gets sick at some point, I’ll be a giant ball of stress and worry. Of course people think I’m an idiot for owning a cat. (I will argue that this cat has all the perks of a dog – minus the walking and fetching bit – without the 8 hour time limit. I can leave Carlos alone for a day or so and he’ll manage by himself just fine. I don’t have to worry about being home to feed and walk him at 6pm sharp. I don’t have to worry that he’ll make a mess in my living room if I’m not home to let him out. I consider that winning.) But it feels good knowing I have something that really loves me waiting for me when I get home.
Life goes on, whether or not you’re ready to go with it.
The past few weeks have been a blur of wonderful newness, of comfort and bliss. They’ve also been full of stress, cancer, death, uncertainty, and pain. But that’s how life goes. Sometimes it throws everything at you at once, just to make sure you’re on your toes. So that’s where I’ve been. On my toes.
The first funeral was on Friday. I put on the black dress only to find that I had shrunk (or it had somehow stretched two sizes) and it wouldn’t be suitable. So instead, I found another black dress. This one still fits. (I really do need to start with this eating business. I’m a little bit bony.) I wasn’t going to go, and I didn’t tell Dad that I was going until I was on 6th Avenue, headed west, but I feel like I was in some ways obligated to go. It was good. Merrilee was such a funny person, and the last time I saw her was at Jeanie’s graduation party earlier this summer. It was good to meet the people who meant so much to her. They had pairs of nose glasses that she used to wear on a board, along with pictures of people wearing the nose glasses. It was good that I went because that meant that I got to chat with Jeanie while Dad talked to everyone else. On a nearly irrelevant note, they had mini quiches. I am such a fan of any party that has mini quiches.
But mini quiches aren’t the point. (Unless they are? Wouldn’t it be so nice if the entire meaning of life could be reduced to mini quiches? I could get down with that.)
Life doesn’t last forever.
Marshall died late Thursday night. He is now listening to the harp music at the great golf course in the sky. (What? It could totally happen. Maybe my personal heaven is bubble baths and wine.)
I sat next to him at Thanksgiving and watched as Juanita fussed with him about whether or not he was happy and comfortable. I was really touched by the fact that after so many years together, they were still taking care of each other. He was constantly aware of her presence and she always made sure that he had what he needed – although there was that one time when someone was missing a cup of coffee and she just grabbed his and said, “Here, have this one.” That’s the kind of love that everyone should be looking for. It might not always be the most effective, but at least it’s real. They are seriously the best non-grandparents I could have had. (Although, now it’s our turn to make Juanita cookies just because.)
Cancer cancer cancer cancer. I’ve not got a lot to say about this one. Seriously, every time I turn around, someone else has it. We’ve got two at work, two on one side of the family. I was talking to Mom about this and she reminded me that this is just a bad spell. I warned her that she wasn’t allowed to get any more cancer just because everyone else was doing it. So we go on. I come from a family of tough people, particularly the women. We’ve got this. We’ll tackle it like we tackle anything else. Everyone will help where they’re needed. We’ll cover the gaps and everyone will emerge alright. I promise. And if anyone wants a healing animal, they’re welcome to borrow Carlos for a few weeks. Nothing will make you want to heal like having the very grumpy Carlos around. (He’s currently at the bottom of my bed with his his paws wrapped around my foot. I love him so much. Best worst decision ever.)
Got an email from the other side of the family today. God, I hate holidays so much. When I am ruler of the universe, there will be no family obligations unless, of course, you want to. I am already stressed at the thought of them cornering me. I’m already imagining it happen. And I’m already tense and terrified. Gross.
The grad school application is limping along, coming together bit by bit.
The giant proposal due at work remains unfinished. Tomorrow will be the ultimate race to the finish line.
But those things don’t really matter. I mean, of course they do. I’d be an idiot not to get my application in, since I still have a month left. And I’d be an idiot if I didn’t bust my ass to get that proposal done. But in the larger scope of things, there is so much more that matters, well, so much more.
On the brighter side, guess what’s awesome?
We went up to Keystone yesterday. Day 5 of snowboarding this season. I’m starting to get it. I did a Blue run with the boys then headed back up to find Emily. Spent the rest of the day on some long greens. It was good. Kevin and his brother came down from Vail to meet up with the group. The boys that we went up with are fun – one of them is in town from Boston, and he’ll be on our New Year’s trip. I’m starting to be able to do my toe side stuff, which means I’m actually able to snowboard properly. Pretty soon I’ll be doing sweet jumps! (That’s actually what I dream about.) Mom, best Christmas present ever. Without your insistence, I’d never be doing this. And I think it’s pretty rad. Also, pass is officially paid for now. Be stoked on that.
I have a boyfriend-thing going on. That was unexpected. I blame the Real World for making me question our relationship situation. So I asked him if we were dating. He said yes. Apparently, that was enough of an exclusivity conversation for him. (We later discussed all of this and figured everything out. It was very reminiscent of our first date.)
I am so ridiculously happy. He’s wonderful. He’s smart, funny, sarcastic, sweet. We are different enough that it will continue to be interesting for me. But we are similar enough that we just mesh well. He takes good care of me. The thing that I think I like the most is that he’s up for anything. When I’m like, let’s go to this concert (I’ve done that twice so far), he’s always open to it. He likes the random adventures that I like, which is good.
Broncos game today. I realize that the tickets came to us in the midst of sadness, but on the plus side, Mike and I are sort of going on a double date. I am bringing Kevin, who is awesome and driving back from family vacation in Vail in time for this. Mike’s bringing a girl! I think I’m probably more excited for this than I am anything else.
This is not one of those “live every day like it’s your last” posts, because those are dumb. But seriously, if you’re not doing something awesome, or something that you love, or something that’s wonderful, what are you doing with your life? After babysitting, I slept for nearly twelve hours last night. (that’s the something wonderful I was talking about.) That was exactly what I needed to do after being an idiot and going out with Katie before I went snowboarding. So today is marching forward and if I don’t hurry, I’m going to miss all the excitement.
I almost forgot: I started writing about being on your toes and life and then I looked down and remembered all the bandages on my toes. Yesterday morning, sometime in the pre-dawn hours, while I was frantically searching for snowboard gear in my room, I somehow managed to step into the side of a laundry basket, taking skin off of two of my toes. I didn’t think anything of it until I saw little bloody toe-prints. As it turns out, sometimes being on your toes doesn’t quite work out the way you’d planned.
Have a beautiful day, world, you deserve it.
The Broncos won last night!! Such a good game to be at! The fourth quarter was lovely! And the weather was nice. I’m still not on the Tebow bandwagon, but at least I’m feeling a bit more proud of our team. Uncle Mike wins awesome Uncle of the Year award for hauling us back to the Light Rail station at DU, and also because his commentary during the game always makes me smile. He’s the best to sit by. (Also, Mom and I were reminiscing about the drive to Chicago all those years ago. And he still wins for that.)
Tomorrow is National Adoption Day. Did you know that there are over 107,000 kids in foster care waiting to be adopted? A lot of them won’t ever be, which is really sad. Every child deserves a family.
I hope that when I grow up (a little more), I am able to be a foster parent or at least get involved in helping foster kids find good adoptive homes.
http://www.ccainstitute.org/our-programs/national-adoption-day.html
Also, Mike just finished writing a big paper for his psychology class about adoptions and success in life. If you’re interested, you might email him and ask for a copy. I know that he spent a lot of time working on it and considering all of the factors that can affect people who’ve been adopted.
My boss (who has four adopted children of his own) always says that kids who are adopted only want to know two things: why they were given up and who their birth parents are. He’s so right. I know why I’m where I am today and I know half of who my birth parents are, but I find that as I get older, the desire to know just what my biological father looked like grows stronger. Where is this nose from?!
I’m stoked to procreate the regular way one day and have kids who look like me, but I think that should I run into conception challenges – I’d absolutely consider adoption over other fertility stuff. (Not knocking all the IVF and surrogacy stuff, just saying.)
Today is Grandpa George’s birthday (he would have been 86) and my half-birthday. Mom always sends me a text on my half birthday, and every year, I have no idea that it’s today until I get it. (This is also just another piece of evidence that she loves me more than Mike – he doesn’t get half-birthday texts or facebook wall posts.)
Happy Birthday Grandpa George! I emailed Grandma to say that this would have been the age we would have started to tease him about being very elderly.
Pretending that you’re not as poor as you are is getting to be really stressful. I know that I make a lot of lifestyle choices, including my adventures, but each of those choices involve a lot of careful planning and sacrifice. I am so grateful for all of the support systems I have in my life – I know that if I was desperate, I could call Mom, but at the same time, I’m so determined to be completely independent that I won’t dare. There’s no need. I won’t rely on anyone to take care of me. Not now, or ever.
Once bills and rent and loan payments are made, the daily budget sits somewhere around $15 (give or take) – which sounds like it’s good enough until you realize that filling your car up with gas is two days worth of life expenses. Everything comes down to “how many days do I lose?” if I do or eat or buy this or that or the other thing. That said, I refuse to let experiences pass me by. I will not stay home and let life go on without me. There are so many things I’d like to do (like get Simon a new bumper, one month of life expenses) that fall by the wayside. I spend a lot of time stressing out about this (and retirement), especially since I feel like so many of my friends (all of them) are making more than me.
I realize I shouldn’t complain. I’m really lucky. I’m happy at work; I’m learning a lot; it’s a laid-back environment (which I need and thrive in).
But it makes me feel like I’m not good enough, not as smart, not as talented, not as driven, not as successful, not as goal oriented, not as focused, utterly lacking potential for growth. (There’s a lot of NOTs in there, and I’d like to be able to focus more of my energy on being less NOT and more BE – as in I AM successful, I AM goal oriented, I AM focused, driven, etc.) It’s just overwhelmingly frustrating and really scary. I would like just one month where I could buy a new pair of jeans (a week or so out of my budget). Or boots that didn’t come from Target (3x the daily budget). Or eat three meals a day. Maybe next year. Maybe I just need to find another weekend job. Or start babysitting more. I’ve been eating the same damn baguette (1/7 of the daily budget) for three days now, and I’m getting about as annoyed as it is stale.
Sorry, that was ridiculous and completely self-pitying, but it needed to come out. I need to remind myself that I’m wallowing sometimes. It helps when it’s public – it makes you think twice before having any self-depreciating moments. It also enhances the wince and the inner shame. Both are great character builders.
🙂
Tonight, one of my favorite bands is in town. I didn’t even know they were coming (what does that say about me?) until yesterday when I saw that they had tweeted from Colorado Springs. But they’re going to be here! And I have tickets! And I’m beyond excited! Between this concert and the one in two weeks (Mickey Avalon), I am crossing two bands off my bucket list. It’s going to be a productive end to 2011.
Shwayze – Get U Home
Shwayze – Crazy For You
Shwayze – Drunk Off Your Love
Tomorrow is up in the air. I’m either going to take Mike’s car and go up to the mountains before babysitting, or I’m going to write my personal statement for grad school and get the mountain of laundry done before it threatens to eat both me and Carlos.
I’m secretly hoping that laundry wins this battle. I have just wanted to get rid of everything I own lately. I just want to pare down my clothes pile so that I’m only keeping what I’ll actually wear. I would also like to clean the entire apartment from top to bottom.
It’s been one of those really long weeks. I’m physically and mentally exhausted. I’ve done a lot of stuff, though. Boulder, Broncos game, Suite 200 – never again, whatever it was that I did on Monday night. I’m in a great mood and I’d like to channel this positive energy into something useful, like a clean apartment.
Ferocity.
Something I’m learning from Carlos.
Act preemptively and base everything on your gut.
Your past guides you more than you think but shouldn’t affect anyone’s future perceptions of you.
I’m hurt; I’m annoyed; I’m angry.
No one should make me feel like I’m less than a human being, whether it’s intentional or not.
I am Katie Barry and I do what I want.
Ah, beautiful weekend ahead.
For once, I’m not entirely bogged down by babysitting plans.
I actually have some unscheduled time ahead of me this weekend, and I’m positively giddy about it.
After a miserable yesterday, I woke this morning feeling entirely refreshed. I was literally up and cleaning my house at 7:30 am.
It’s looking a little better.
Mike and I need to be better about keeping up with things like the kitchen. It’s gross. I rarely eat at home, and so I push it all off on him. But the pile of dishes keeps growing, and it’s really grossing me out.
I am the designated bathroom cleaner. Maybe it’s all the babysitting, or the years spent making faces while mopping Dairy Queen, but I am not scared of bathrooms.
Hair from the drain? 99% chance it belongs to me, so I’m not scared. Toilet cleaning? Meh, it’s just bleach.
That stuff I can do.
(And I do regularly.)
I even had a load of laundry and some clothes hung up before 9 am.
Carlos was running around chasing his toy mice. I can’t tell if I love him most when we are just waking up and he is laying on me and yawning, or if he’s sliding on the wood floors chasing something. He’s definitely got something very seriously dignified about him, but he’s also childish, when he’s stretched out lengthwise with a mouse between his paws, having just somersaulted into a wall. (God, I love him. I’ll never let anyone take him from me.)
It was all very cute.
We are expecting canine company this evening. I’m terrified. I adore Ely’s golden Archie, but I’m also not so sure how I feel about forcing Carlos to have to adapt to a dog.
Given that Carlos is so wonderful at adapting to strange situations, I’m hoping that once they realize it’s probably going to keep happening, both animals will relax around each other. Archie is curious about Carlos, and even more curious about his food. (Apparently wet food is like crack for all animals.)
Based on how Carlos reacts when he sees any dog, I’m assuming he was attacked by one or more during his Chicago years. And so I understand his fear of Archie, but I wish it wasn’t so bad. While I’m assuming he’ll just run and hide, I’m also worried about a confrontation happening. Carlos can be very nasty when provoked. And I’m not sure Archie would be prepared for that.
Alas, we have to get to the Rockies game first. I’m not going home after work; I’ll meet Emily at the DU light rail station at we will head down from there.
And then after the game? God only knows how we’re going to get my car home.
And get the dog home.
It shall be an adventure. I’m not sure if I should start stressing now, or just wait until it’s happening and roll with it.
I’ll wait.
In all honesty, trying to balance Emily’s needs with Ely’s is going to be a hot mess.
This might get interesting.
And Madeline is in town tonight. And she’ll be out after. So I’m just going to give the rest of them my keys and go dance. (just kidding. or am I?)
Happy Friday!
I got an email from Mama P this morning. You’ll remember Priscilla, my absolutely insanely wonderful host mother in South Africa.
Her emails are always short and to the point. They never say much, but I’m grateful for them. Today she said that the weather is turning cold, and to say hello to Mike and James Dean for her. I laughed out loud when I read the last bit; I had completely forgotten about that. So here’s how it goes:
The night that James was coming to pick me up for our first date, I realized I had no idea what his name was. I knew it was either James or Dean. So we had all just referred to him as James Dean the entire week. I realized that this was eventually going to present a problem, so I called him, and luckily, he didn’t answer his phone. Voicemail clued me in on his real name and that was that. But we still called James Dean.
It’s amazing how much I miss that place. I know it will never be the same, but it will always have a beautiful place in my heart. I want to get back there, to stand at Muizenberg Beach and feel the waves crash against my feet and fight my way onto the train and off again.
However, my life here is growing daily. While I like that I’m learning a lot at my current job, I’m not satisfied with the compensation and have taken on babysitting to make extra cash. (This supports my lifestyle, which you may be surprised to hear isn’t quite as wild as you might think.) Anyway, I’ve got four families in the rotation and the balancing act is getting a bit hectic.
This week, for example, I will be working all seven days. And twice this week I had to go straight from work to babysit. The other nights I went directly home and was in bed relatively early. It’s all fine and well, but I’m not getting any decompression time and am beginning to get a bit stressed.
Hopefully this week will provide ample opportunity for sleep as I’m not scheduled to work any week days.
Alas, today brings more babysitting, volunteering at a choir concert that one of my co-workers is singing in, and then date night. And tomorrow brings babysitting.
I really love the families that I’m sitting for this weekend – I find it much easier to babysit when I’m actually enjoying myself as well. One family has three little girls, and then, of course, there are the twins. I find myself hoping the symphony season won’t end!
Last night, Jacob and I went to see a production of Macbeth at UCD. Jacob was personally invested – he did the music for the show. I went because I waffle back and forth on my hate/love of Shakespeare. This play was pretty well done. The costuming choices were interesting – mostly just corsets – and the cast was tiny, but the leads delivered their lines really well.
After that, we went to an art gallery where they were serving pancakes and alcohol (strange combination, but hey, whatever). After paying $5 to get in and being told that drinks were free – we ended up having to pay $4 for a small cup. Ridiculous. The gallery was cute, but it was trying too hard to replicate the scene in New York. There were topless models being spraypainted (when done properly, it’s actually really beautiful), but it just felt like an afterthought, especially as the crowd began to diminish. After meeting up with our friend Claire and her girlfriend and wandering around looking at some art, we bailed to go dancing.
And so we danced. The night drew to a close, and I was grateful, because the tired had begun creeping through my bones. I went home, said hello to Carlos and Mike, and was asleep nearly immediately. I woke up tired – I didn’t get nearly enough sleep. I’m hoping for a nap while I do my laundry.
Tonight, once my obligations are over, I’ve got a wild night planned (as usual). The guy that I guess I’m dating (I don’t know – we eat dinner together sometimes. He made me waffles. I think that counts as sort of edging toward dating?) is going to come down from Boulder (and maybe bring his adorable dog!) and we’re going to go see Claire’s band play and then (depending on how tired I am or how bored he is) head to a weird art gallery/warehouse for a space party ordeal.
Jacob is super into the electronic scene, which means I find myself at a lot of events. I joking called it a “space cult” based on the theme of the first party he invited me to. Now, we call them space parties. They’re not really – just a bunch of people in a room listening to really good (or really bad, depending) music and maybe drinking.
And yes, we may have to relocate Carlos for the evening. Jacob is more than happy to babysit and Carlos has been itching to get out and explore.
a mile high and then some... 