There’s been a lot of dramatic bullshit swirling around lately. Like a bullshit tornado. Dripping stink and stress all around, steaming surprises at every corner. People are sucking at life.

SUCKING AT LIFE.

The inability for so many to manage their shit is hard for me to comprehend.

This has been swirling around for awhile now, and I’ve been able to just compartmentalize and make excuses. However, yesterday we found out that a friend from high school killed himself the night before. Shot himself on his front porch, found by another one of his friends.

He and I were friends in high school. There was one summer in particular where he and his friend and Gert and I rode around in his Baretta, jamming out to music, listening to tunes, underage drinking cold Coors Light PartyBalls…our names fell alphabetically so that he and I were in line with each other for everything. Assemblies, class nights, senior nights, graduation, class pictures.

At some point, he went off the rails. Drugs. Prison. The whole nine yards. He was not the friend I knew. Yet he was here. He was alive. He survived. And he continued to make horrible choices. Addicts do that. And he was that. Indeed he was that.

But he was alive. Living this life.

And he threw it away.

Talking to SP today about it and about how I’m so pissed. Our Chris doesn’t get to stay and this one? This one just fucking throws it away??? A Tale of Two Chris’…one who didn’t get the time to change the world…and the other who didn’t change and threw his time away.

I’m sideways. I’ve had it up to HERE.

The stress of this, comprised with the actual managing of my own shit has presented itself in some amazing back and neck pain. No sleep last night. None. And who can’t sleep on a fabulously stormy rainy night? This girl.

I’m working from home today. I emailed homework to my professor for class. Home.  Homework, organizing, writing and reading.

And a massage this afternoon.

Hopefully it helps.

 

I do believe I’m ready for my boarder to arrive tonight. Floors are mopped, beds are clean and made, towels and wash cloths are clean and in the cabinet. I feel relieved. Now, I’ve got to use the remaining hours before class to clamor around reading and studying for tonight’s test.

I had an amazing weekend. Weekend in the sense that it landed there on the calendar. I was swamped the whole time with work and bartending and seeing my friends kid in a musical and choir practice. It was full, but full of laughter and joy.

I wish I could cut out the scene yesterday during the Footloose musical, where Willard in all his beautiful, sweet shiny voiced glory comes onstage…and Michael and I just lost it. We were holding hands, wiping tears…this kid was delightful. Magical. I wish I could cut that out, and add it to the parts where Riley was her shining star-self, and put that in your dvd players today.

It would start your week out with nothing less than joy abounding.

 

it seems like most of the time I use this space as my list of things to do. but it helps me get clear, and see what’s been accomplished and what’s waiting.

my time is quickly running out. I’ve got three rooms, little ones, to get clean before my border arrives tomorrow. I’ve got a huge test that I haven’t studied for yet. But the kitchen is in progress of being clean, the dishes are going, I skipped church today and when I woke up at 7am I decided to get up, feed the cats and go back to bed. My body is tired, exhausted. So…I’m working on it. On all of it.

This afternoon, I’m going to watch Riley in her performance of Footloose. Which will just be fun. Then Trish is going to take some photos for me to use as a headshot for the show that’s coming up. Then back home to do the last bits of cleaning, write a bio for the show and studying. Choir practice at 7pm.

thing is? i could stay on this couch, sipping my chickory coffee with the breeze blowing through the house…I could stay here all dang day.

What’s on your list today?

I shampooed the carpets yesterday at Brokedown Palace. I’ve got the guestroom and floors for kitchen and bath to clean and then I will be ready to welcome my boarder on Monday.

I’ve spoken with her on the phone. I think this is going to be a nice little 8 week thing. She’s got a place that’s NOT an expensive hotel to use as a base and I’ll get my treadmill paid for!

I had no appointments yesterday, so after I finished class I came home and got to work. Worked up a sweat as a matter of fact. Then I got on the treadmill for awhile. I’m ready to work my strength back up. Ready for my legs to not cramp up after 20 minutes. It’ll happen. I’ve started watching Rescue Me while I walk…mmmmmm such a good show. I think it started when my life was exploding about 6 or so years ago, so I missed it completely. I love it. Dennis Leary…who the hell knew???

Today I have clients. HUZZUAH. Blessed for that.

Tonight I have nothing. So, cleaning the rest of the house and studying. I’ve got a big ole test on Monday. I’ve got reading to do. Lot’s of both. Tomorrow is work, and bartending. Sunday, I’m going to meet the NEWLY RETIRED M’Lynn at church, then head to Norman to see Rileygirl in her musical Footloose, Trish has offered to take some headshots for me to use in the upcoming show. I’m going to choir practice with Bonusmom Sunday night so that I can sing with her in the choir on Easter Sunday. Can you believe it’s already here????

I’m gearing up for a busy week. I don’t really have weekends anymore. The Dutchess would be so pleased.

What’s your’s look like?

“It’s exhilarating to be alive in a time of awakening consciousness; it can also be
confusing, disorienting, and painful. This awakening of dead or sleeping con-
sciousness has already affected the lives of millions of women, even those who don’t
know it yet. It is also affecting the lives of men, even those who deny
its claims upon them. The argument will go on whether an oppressive economic class
system is responsible for the oppressive nature of male/female relations, or
whether, in fact, the sexual class system is the original model on which all the
others are based. But in the last few years connections have been drawn between
our sexual lives and our political institutions, which are inescapable and illumi-
nating. The sleepwalkers are coming awake, and for the first time this awakening has a collective reality; it is no longer such a lonely thing to open one’s eyes”–Adrienne Rich

I love that.

It’s no longer such a lonely thing to open one’s eyes.

Isn’t that the truth?

Adrienne Rich passed away yesterday. It’s a sad world that won’t get more of her words. She put words together so beautifully, so clearly stating the thoughts that are forever scrambled in my brain, trying to make it out onto the page.

She speaks clearly about motherhood, marriage and how her life was different, and how she wanted more than what these things were supposed to bring.

“…to be a female human being trying to fulfill traditional female functions in a traditional way is in direct conflict with the subversive function of the imagination.” 

Godspeed Ms. Rich…I miss you already.

—————————————————————–

In other news…

Tickets for the performance of Listen To Your Mother are on sale. They are general admission, so know that as you make your arrival plans.

Happy Thursday!

When I started this Grad School Thing, I facebook’d a guy I went to school with. We knew each other, but never hung or ran in the same circle. But because of the nature of social networking, we comment, email, like posts, all the time. He graduated from the same program I’m currently in and is working on his Ph.D. at OSU currently. He’s been a huge source of support these last months and I’m so grateful that the internet made us friends.

I say all of that to say this:

Last night, he posted that his sweet pup, Chaucer, was seizing. Pretty frequently. This afternoon they had to put him down at the vet. As we know, it’s a thing that hurts beyond measure. And as we know, treats for everyone. Extra love for those we’ve got here, in honor of those we’ve sent away.

• Finishing up applications for scholarships this week
• must grocery shop for real, clean foods
• banking
• response paper due tomorrow
• readings due for tomorrow and thurs
• papers assigned finally, with due dates and found out today a stupid group project for southern women class
• readings and watching the movie version of A Farewell to Arms before Monday

Mostly just trying to get a grasp on timelines and due dates and things that must be done in combination with both jobs and other social obligations. Must get spare room tidy and clean (it’s not dirty, just a holding space for cats and laundry right now) as I am taking in a boarder at the first of April.

Jumping back into the thick of it and it’s a little wobbly this week for me. I’m ready, though, for the routine. I find my tolerance for things such as people not listening during class, people not responding to my texts, and professors that are completely unorganized is at an all time low. I need to see McCracken, because my neck is just janky. I’ve got a stress knot in my shoulder that is just wrecking havoc, but who the hell has time or money for a massage these days? Pfffft. Not this chick.

Here’s what I’m happy about. The fact that I don’t have heat or air on right now. Just fans and screens open. My lawn is mowed. It’s all weeds and I do believe I will ignore that this year, but they’re mowed. I’m going to fire up my grill tonight. Make some lean hamburger patties to eat the rest of the week and grill some veggies. That makes me really happy.

 

 

My friend lost her brother in law suddenly this past week. Early 40s, heart attack, never regained consciousness.

I’m going to a benefit this afternoon in honor of Rudy. Proceeds to help his wife Hope deal with medical bills and the business of death. It will be a mixture of music and fun and friends and yet…the underlying obvious thing missing will be Rudy.

One of my clients is facing a biopsy this coming week on a tumor that was found.

I just finished a great weekend that was full of work, and live music, and laughing and bitching and lavender blueberry cobbler with a ginger butter crust.

The fact that all of this can all happen in the same calendar space is…interesting at the least, isn’t it?

Figuring out how to put one foot in front of another, juggling responsibilities like bills, and duties, work and home, employees and litter boxes, all the while keeping your soul filled with great gulps of optimism at what is ahead…it’s a thing. Indeed it is a thing.

I always have those things that gnaw at me. . . soundlessly gumming my outer layer of sanity away. . . about money, about my appearance, about what I should be doing better in my relationships, about how to not be taken advantage of while still living a generous life. And as with most things, I ebb and flow.

Hawk and I realized years ago, that we ebb and flow. We decided that we’re better off when we’re flowing, so we work at staying in that space. She gets it. So do I.

I know that when I’m eating right, moving around, keeping the bad things at bay, I feel better. Those things need to ebb. A whole lot of ebbing needs to start happening in that area. But you know, this whole damned blog is full of posts that say that very thing. It seems it’s just the circle I live in.

Wouldn’t it be nice, if we could all ebb and flow at our whim? If I could just blink and make it nice and tidy and organized and neat and timely? If the good could just outweigh the bad. If we could ebb the loss and flow the love. . .

Wouldn’t that just be nice.

 

So, last night I cried myself into an earache.

And while I know good and well it’s the allergies of the season, and I’ll hit the school clinic next week if it’s not better, still. It sounds better the other way around.

Last night I watched The Descendants. With my boyfriend George Clooney. I had heard that it was soul wrenching. I think subconsciously that’s why I didn’t see it in the theatre. My mental stability at the end of the semester and the beginning of this year couldn’t withstand a wrenching, of any kind. But last night, I chose to jump.

I think it’s one of the most beautifully told stories, beautifully crafted, the whole shebang, that I’ve seen in a long time. I did ugly cry. A real lot. It’s still with me this morning. The girl in it? Shailene Woodley? Amazing. She held her own in every single moment of the film.

But even as I was talking to friends online, I would tune right back up.

There are scenes, and not to give too much away, but there are scenes in which family members say goodbye to someone who is being taken off of life support. I think the honesty is what got me. Woof. It was hefty.

I followed that up with Being Elmo. It’s a documentary that’s on Netflix right now and I’ve been wanting to see it and thought that it would be the perfect pick me up after what I’d just watched. HOLY CRAP, I think I cried harder at that one. It’s a beautiful story. Beautiful. But there were tears…Lord. Lot’s of tears. Especially during the scenes of Jim Henson’s memorial service.

Today is slammed at work. The weekend is slammed with more fun. Then we’re back at it. School. Focus. Reading. Homework. Papers. Spring Break down, and onward until June. I have carpets that require deep cleaning. Stuff that has to be returned that I borrowed for Chris’ celebuneral. There’s lot’s left to check off the list before this break is over…but I’m kind of ready for some routine again.

My brain is just kind of mushy this morning. Rather than continue to blather nonsense, I’ll just say HAPPY FRIDAY YA’LL!! and peaceout.

 

Exactly one year ago today, I voiced to you, gentle readers, my desire for applying to grad school. It seems that my plan was initially to study British Literature. I think I was channeling Ma and my USAO experience.

I remember the night, it was a drunken debacle of a night after my friends mother’s funeral. It finished about 4am with Gert telling me, you really should do it. You really should.

I’d thought it before. Mostly in the shoulda woulda coulda file of my brain. Mostly when I thought about how I missed the boat. Mostly in the context of the graduate assistantship to Ole Miss that I gave up because at the time, I was married to a racist, slacker, pothead piece of fucktard, who said, “We are NOT moving to Mississippi. There’s nothing but black people there.”

It stuns me NOT that those words came out of his mouth. It stuns me that it took several more months before I would leave. Stuns me. 

However, that’s not the point of this story.

I was thinking about it, the seed had been planted way back in 1997. Gert added some tenderness and Miracle-Gro and love. Many conversations later, with Caro, with my sister, with many of you and here I am. At the end of May, after Spring semester and intersession, I’ll be 21 hours into my 32 hour program.

I look back on that post, and read your comments. I see Chris’ words, which are eerily comforting. Brought tears to my eyes. But that’s ok. They did a year ago, too. I see your support. From the very first time I wrote the words.

What a difference a year makes, eh?

Looking back on all of the obstacles, mostly self inflicted neuroses, I think…”man. I am SO GLAD I did this.” And as is usually the case I wish for 2012 MistiRidiculous to be able to go back and speak to 2011 MistiRidiculous and say,

“Girl. GIRRRRRRL. Take. A. Breath. Jump into it. Go. Figure it out. Steer clear of that bitch that teaches the Young Adult class, and get involved. You’re going to be just fine. You will still have your house, You will be crazy stressed, try to get some more sleep. But it’s all good. Take a breath and LEAP.”

I’m incredibly uncertain about the future. I’m crazy nervous about the next few semesters, about picking a thesis topic, about getting a thesis committee together. What in the name of Carrie Bradshaw am I going to wear if I get the TA position??? And seriously. Can ANYONE tell me what in heaven’s name am I going to do AFTER I GRADUATE??? Ph.d program? WHERE? What if no one wants me? What if I garner so much student loan debt that I just get buried under it? What if I never get hired by anyone? What if I’m totally a fraud and couldn’t teach a kangaroo to freakin hop???

This is where 2013 MistiRidiculous needs to show up and say,

” GIRRRRRRRL. Take a breath. It’s all fine. See? See how things have worked out? Take a breath. Leap.”

But since that never seems to happen without the aid of a magical baseball diamond in a cornfield…I’ll take comfort in words.

Yours. Mine. Ours. and Patty Griffin’s.