It's not easy to admit that I've cried in some strange places for a myriad of reasons. Though I am proud to admit that it hasn't been often as of late. With the exception of tonight.
Add yet another bar. A bar ill equipped to handle an emotional outpour with a best friend. A PBR Irish bar.
Fucking Cancer. Fucking absent Kleenex. God Damn dog.
I am not one to cry in front of people. I hate it. It makes me feel weak and vulnerable - two things I just don't put up with in myself. Yet I'm not naive to think that it hasn't happened, won't happen....I just can't stand it when it does.
My best friend starts Chemo next week.
Fucking Cancer. I'd like to go two rounds with you in a ring. Two rounds. First round I get surprised by how dirty you fight and the next round I KICK YOUR ASS.
But it's like boxing smoke. Elusive and coy...one minute right in your face and the next not even a shadow on the mat. So instead, I pour my weakness into something constructive. A benefit for her. Something that can provide comfort to her and her husband. Selfishly it makes me feel good for contributing.
But there are nights that we sit and laugh until we cry - and then cry until we laugh. Tonight we started laughing over PBR and Chardonnay and bar pizzas. Then we started to talk about the benefit and the crying started - the, "I can't believe the amount of support and love that is out there" kind of crying. So we paid the bill at the PRR bar and decided to call it a night.
Unfortunately (or is it fortunate) that our train stop is literally twenty paces from a gay bar called Scot's. How do two girls sharing laughs and tears in a straight bar pass up a drink at the gay bar?! Moments after arriving we were bought a martini and shots. Gay men just aren't scared off by the prospect of crying; they are drawn to it like moths to flame.
So for those of you that I sent texts to that seemed odd or out of left center, I don't apologize but I offer the explanation of PBR draft beers, gay men and a dog named Wilson. If you'd been there with me in person you'd have appreciated the fact that Gay bars have Kleenex readily available.
Here's to you Crescent Prah. I will bring the Kleenex, kick Cancer's ass, and cry anywhere, anytime as long as it's with you. Just promise that someday it can be my dog that we take pictures of in a bar.
January 13, 2010
January 11, 2010
Boom! Rubber Band
Here's a weird thing....rubber bands.
Tell me, when was the last time you remember purchasing a rubber band? Go ahead, think about it. I'll wait.
Waiting. ...............................................................still waiting.................give up? Yeah don't feel bad, I can't either. But I knew that (this is my topic after all) I just wanted to see how long you'd try. Even though you can't recall when you acquired a rubber band I bet you could walk to your kitchen or your desk and find a handful of these rascals scattered in the drawer. Rubber bands are like those dryer sheets that sometimes hide out in the crotch of your pants until at the most inopportune moment, say like when you are in line at the bank , it decides to make a break for it and shimmy down the pant leg and escape by sneaking past the sock. FREE AT LAST.
(What in the hell does a used dryer sheet have in store for itself after preventing static cling? I doubt roller coasters and pony rides are on the agenda. Maybe a sort of lining for a bird's nest possibly?)
I think about rubber bands all the time. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I "collect" bands (that's more than a little fishy) but I do know when and where I get them from. You can walk around my house and find a few bands hanging on random door knobs or cupboard knobs -- always handy -- and even one hanging in my shower, but that's a special one. These get used in a myriad of ways from long term to quick fixes. You just never know when you'll need one, a good band is hard to find.
(Get it? Good band....like man........wow, I've been away too long. Either I'm rusty or you've forgotten my sense of humor. Let's get it together people!)
Postal workers are NOTORIOUS for dropping bands all down the sidewalks of their routes in Chicago, like Hansel and Gretel and the breadcrumbs. All I have to do is walk two blocks out of my way and have enough bands to last the next couple months. I like to remind myself not only am I being frugal, I'm also doing a good deed by collecting these off the ground so some yippy little dog doesn't choke to death when he decides a chewy rubber band is a good afternoon snack.
(Only yippy dogs. Big dogs wouldn't bother with anything smaller than a fan belt.)
When I was growing up my parents owned a grocery store and my mom was the Non-Foods Manager. That meant on days when the stock came in we would have to help replenish the shelves. Boxes of Tylenol held together with a rubber band, bottles of cough syrup clinging together inside a rubber band -- container after container of the same. By the end of it you'd have rubber bands lined up from wrist to elbow. Enough rubber bands to last a lifetime. It was a bitch and a half to get those Mothers off your arm. Usually leaving a hairless forearm as proof of a job well done.
I venture to guess that after reading this you will catch yourself noticing the existence of rubber bands more. And, if you want yet more excitement, you can do what an old acquaintance of mine started doing. Every time he'd see a rubber band on the floor or sidewalk he'd yell, "BOOM! Rubber band" and pick it up.
I bet his forearm is hairless.
Tell me, when was the last time you remember purchasing a rubber band? Go ahead, think about it. I'll wait.
Waiting. ...............................................................still waiting.................give up? Yeah don't feel bad, I can't either. But I knew that (this is my topic after all) I just wanted to see how long you'd try. Even though you can't recall when you acquired a rubber band I bet you could walk to your kitchen or your desk and find a handful of these rascals scattered in the drawer. Rubber bands are like those dryer sheets that sometimes hide out in the crotch of your pants until at the most inopportune moment, say like when you are in line at the bank , it decides to make a break for it and shimmy down the pant leg and escape by sneaking past the sock. FREE AT LAST.
(What in the hell does a used dryer sheet have in store for itself after preventing static cling? I doubt roller coasters and pony rides are on the agenda. Maybe a sort of lining for a bird's nest possibly?)
I think about rubber bands all the time. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I "collect" bands (that's more than a little fishy) but I do know when and where I get them from. You can walk around my house and find a few bands hanging on random door knobs or cupboard knobs -- always handy -- and even one hanging in my shower, but that's a special one. These get used in a myriad of ways from long term to quick fixes. You just never know when you'll need one, a good band is hard to find.
(Get it? Good band....like man........wow, I've been away too long. Either I'm rusty or you've forgotten my sense of humor. Let's get it together people!)
Postal workers are NOTORIOUS for dropping bands all down the sidewalks of their routes in Chicago, like Hansel and Gretel and the breadcrumbs. All I have to do is walk two blocks out of my way and have enough bands to last the next couple months. I like to remind myself not only am I being frugal, I'm also doing a good deed by collecting these off the ground so some yippy little dog doesn't choke to death when he decides a chewy rubber band is a good afternoon snack.
(Only yippy dogs. Big dogs wouldn't bother with anything smaller than a fan belt.)
When I was growing up my parents owned a grocery store and my mom was the Non-Foods Manager. That meant on days when the stock came in we would have to help replenish the shelves. Boxes of Tylenol held together with a rubber band, bottles of cough syrup clinging together inside a rubber band -- container after container of the same. By the end of it you'd have rubber bands lined up from wrist to elbow. Enough rubber bands to last a lifetime. It was a bitch and a half to get those Mothers off your arm. Usually leaving a hairless forearm as proof of a job well done.
I venture to guess that after reading this you will catch yourself noticing the existence of rubber bands more. And, if you want yet more excitement, you can do what an old acquaintance of mine started doing. Every time he'd see a rubber band on the floor or sidewalk he'd yell, "BOOM! Rubber band" and pick it up.
I bet his forearm is hairless.
December 1, 2009
All Skate
I don't know how many of you are out there reading my postings, I know for certain there are six of you. For you six, plus anyone else reading, I offer an apology for not writing more frequently. Even as I sit here apologizing to you for not writing I feel like this post is sucking monkey balls and I don't want to finish it. It's just that I haven't had a lot to say which is surprising since I'm not lacking things bumping around in my head -- trust me, it's like a goddamn roller skating rink in there -- thoughts just keep going round and round and round and round....getting dizzy...and I'm afraid of what will happen when the song stops and I need to make sense of it all. I'm avoiding it. And in the last 20 years I've crafted some very strong avoidance techniques so I'm really good at it. Huh, too bad there isn't some way to get paid to avoid things......what?
Honestly, I have been trying to decide what to write about for the last couple weeks and when I finally get a nugget of a topic started in my head, I lose it before I get the time or energy to start writing. To help explain how it feels, let's keep going with the roller skating analogy. It's like the thoughts that are going round and round in my head daily are the expert speed skaters, the kind that do all those fancy tricks and backward skating in the middle of the rink. They are effortless and unlimited. Then the creative ideas, the lists of things to do, the weekend plans and compliments for friends, care and concern to give, decisions and Christmas wishes are the little kids on skates for the first time flung to the outer edges of the rink. Barely able to stand erect, they cling to the shag carpeted walls on the outside and try to muster the strength to make it a quarter of the way to the next exit. Here their skates hit the worn carpeted safety zone and they feel that relief that the attention is no longer theirs. All the while the advanced skaters are doing bigger tricks and skating faster and more furious with the extra room that has been created with the exodus of all the carpet clutchers.
This is what is happening. This is why I apologize to you six (teen?) readers. I just don't want to write about the thoughts that are the speed skaters in my rink. And I'm afraid until they've exhausted themselves, or I cut off their feet, I have no choice but to wait it out.
That said, today is December 1st. It's almost a year since Test Your Pen's conception. I'm really proud and really thankful that you bother to come back and check it out, it means a lot to me. You should register and be counted with the other brave 6 souls that are "followers." While it won't get you a free meal or cup of coffee, it does make you a member of a very elite group. Act now and for anyone who registers before the end of the year that person can name the topic of a posting I have to write about. Your registration, your choice of posting topic. What a deal! Hurry, only 30 days left!! Just think, you could play a huge part in making the speed skaters stop so the newbies can come back to the rink and entertain you!
Honestly, I have been trying to decide what to write about for the last couple weeks and when I finally get a nugget of a topic started in my head, I lose it before I get the time or energy to start writing. To help explain how it feels, let's keep going with the roller skating analogy. It's like the thoughts that are going round and round in my head daily are the expert speed skaters, the kind that do all those fancy tricks and backward skating in the middle of the rink. They are effortless and unlimited. Then the creative ideas, the lists of things to do, the weekend plans and compliments for friends, care and concern to give, decisions and Christmas wishes are the little kids on skates for the first time flung to the outer edges of the rink. Barely able to stand erect, they cling to the shag carpeted walls on the outside and try to muster the strength to make it a quarter of the way to the next exit. Here their skates hit the worn carpeted safety zone and they feel that relief that the attention is no longer theirs. All the while the advanced skaters are doing bigger tricks and skating faster and more furious with the extra room that has been created with the exodus of all the carpet clutchers.
This is what is happening. This is why I apologize to you six (teen?) readers. I just don't want to write about the thoughts that are the speed skaters in my rink. And I'm afraid until they've exhausted themselves, or I cut off their feet, I have no choice but to wait it out.
That said, today is December 1st. It's almost a year since Test Your Pen's conception. I'm really proud and really thankful that you bother to come back and check it out, it means a lot to me. You should register and be counted with the other brave 6 souls that are "followers." While it won't get you a free meal or cup of coffee, it does make you a member of a very elite group. Act now and for anyone who registers before the end of the year that person can name the topic of a posting I have to write about. Your registration, your choice of posting topic. What a deal! Hurry, only 30 days left!! Just think, you could play a huge part in making the speed skaters stop so the newbies can come back to the rink and entertain you!
November 5, 2009
Just around the corner
Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Everything remains as it was.
The old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no sorrow in your tone.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effort.
Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was.
There is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner.
All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting, when we meet again.
The time will come. But until I get to raise a pint with you again, my friend, try and stay out of trouble. Remember, you still owe me that re-match; I'm going to miss the shit out of you until then.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Everything remains as it was.
The old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no sorrow in your tone.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effort.
Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was.
There is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner.
All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting, when we meet again.
The time will come. But until I get to raise a pint with you again, my friend, try and stay out of trouble. Remember, you still owe me that re-match; I'm going to miss the shit out of you until then.
Peter Ferrigan
November 5th, 2009
November 5th, 2009
October 7, 2009
Holy Hot Strips!
Hell, that fucking hurt.
Ladies, here are two tid-bits of knowledge for you:
1. If you should decide at some point in your life to begin waxing, realize you can never stop. Not for NOTHING. If it's a money issue, cancel cable or stop eating food. Always be sure to allot the time and the funds. If you are going to do it, it becomes priority numero uno.
2. When the aesthetician says, "Looks like I bruised you" don't giggle. She's not making a funny aesthetician joke and it is entirely possible she did.
Not only did I have a chance to reenact the Kelly Clarkson scene from 40 Year Old Virgin, I can also say proof-positive that there isn't a place on me that isn't capable of bruises.
I'm wondering if I got the tip right seeing how I was the one that left with bruises.
Ladies, here are two tid-bits of knowledge for you:
1. If you should decide at some point in your life to begin waxing, realize you can never stop. Not for NOTHING. If it's a money issue, cancel cable or stop eating food. Always be sure to allot the time and the funds. If you are going to do it, it becomes priority numero uno.
2. When the aesthetician says, "Looks like I bruised you" don't giggle. She's not making a funny aesthetician joke and it is entirely possible she did.
Not only did I have a chance to reenact the Kelly Clarkson scene from 40 Year Old Virgin, I can also say proof-positive that there isn't a place on me that isn't capable of bruises.
I'm wondering if I got the tip right seeing how I was the one that left with bruises.
September 21, 2009
I wish I were kidding
Thanks to a really great guy I now spend a lot of time noticing bikes and gear and stuff related to bikes. I am pretty regularly (and easily) entertained by this. Big bikes, little ones, custom made, tricked out, expensive, mountain vs. hybrid vs. road, clip shoes, messenger bags, saddles....the list goes on.
So not all that surprising that as I was walking to the gym tonight I came upon a lady -- probably in her mid-sixties with silver grey hair gathered in a loose ponytail, wearing comfy but functional attire -- putting a brand new awesome looking bike transporter on the back of a new-ish red hatchback car (probably eco-friendly) and looking quite happy with her accomplishment. Not at all surprising that I found myself starring at the contraption, curious about the brand and how it was attached to her city-appropriate, eco-friendly car.
No not surprising. What was surprising was that I chose to say the following words........out loud........while walking right past her and her proud new purchase........................................"Hey, nice rack."
Yeah, and I am not joking. Not even a little.
So not all that surprising that as I was walking to the gym tonight I came upon a lady -- probably in her mid-sixties with silver grey hair gathered in a loose ponytail, wearing comfy but functional attire -- putting a brand new awesome looking bike transporter on the back of a new-ish red hatchback car (probably eco-friendly) and looking quite happy with her accomplishment. Not at all surprising that I found myself starring at the contraption, curious about the brand and how it was attached to her city-appropriate, eco-friendly car.
No not surprising. What was surprising was that I chose to say the following words........out loud........while walking right past her and her proud new purchase........................................"Hey, nice rack."
Yeah, and I am not joking. Not even a little.
September 17, 2009
Blur
AAAAARRGH. If I don't escape out of the city soon, I think there will be some serious issues.
I need to be away from my desk.......
Away from phone and email.........
I need open sky.......and a kanteen of wine.
I haven't sat in front of a campfire
or watched stars, rowed a boat
or walked on the beach yet this Summer.
My insomnia is back, I can't resist snacking and my face is a mess
I'm quick to lose patience and I can't make a decision to save my life.
I want to be excited and surprised; goofy and optimistic. If I continue with this current state I'm going to be thought of as that snarky ugly girl with dull hair and a bad attitude. I'M TRULY NOT A BAD ATTITUDE KIND OF CHICK!! WHILE NEVER MISS SUNSHINE, I HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO BRIGHTEN SOMEONE'S DAY, I AM CAPABLE OF IT. I think.
But lately I find myself doubting my ability to be a good friend, a good daughter, co-worker or neighbor. I can't imagine why anyone puts up with my distracted behaviour and my total apathy toward making plans and arranging outings. I'm just so tired.
And it's all been so blurry. I need to get out of the city.
I need to be away from my desk.......
Away from phone and email.........
I need open sky.......and a kanteen of wine.
I haven't sat in front of a campfire
or watched stars, rowed a boat
or walked on the beach yet this Summer.
My insomnia is back, I can't resist snacking and my face is a mess
I'm quick to lose patience and I can't make a decision to save my life.
I want to be excited and surprised; goofy and optimistic. If I continue with this current state I'm going to be thought of as that snarky ugly girl with dull hair and a bad attitude. I'M TRULY NOT A BAD ATTITUDE KIND OF CHICK!! WHILE NEVER MISS SUNSHINE, I HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO BRIGHTEN SOMEONE'S DAY, I AM CAPABLE OF IT. I think.
But lately I find myself doubting my ability to be a good friend, a good daughter, co-worker or neighbor. I can't imagine why anyone puts up with my distracted behaviour and my total apathy toward making plans and arranging outings. I'm just so tired.
And it's all been so blurry. I need to get out of the city.
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