did it break enough this time?

Sometimes I wonder why adults don't take the time to physically process how they feel. As infants, without the luxury of language, we use crying to communicate our needs or when something is wrong. We grow up and crying becomes less socially acceptable. We don't usually do it in public, or find it embarrassing when it does happen, hastily wiping tears away with the back of a hand. Expressions of grief or sadness or just being upset aren't released by adults. They hover near the surface until we can push them back down, compartmentalize them, and move on. Even genuinely happy people could use some emotional purging every now and again.

I hadn't had a good cry in a while. You know... the loud ugly cry. With the sniffling and the sobs and the little gaspy breaths in-between. It was quite cathartic; something I had forgotten. Maybe I've been going around with my emotions to close to the surface. Maybe that causes me to say or do things that I wouldn't normally. Or maybe people pick up on the lingering feelings over what my actual actions are and read them the wrong way. Like some kind of extra sense that pervades how I interact with others. I wish I knew what people wanted, or that there was some consistency to it. Barring mind-reading, the best I can do is just be a good person and hope that effort is recognized, not questioned. And, I guess, cry.

the casuality of a two show weekend

After a shit week, what else is there for a girl to do but dust her shoulders off and climb back on that rockNroll horse? In spite of the sublime Obama victory on Tuesday, I managed to remain mostly miserable with professional and personal rejections abounding. Cue my savior- an indie rock weekend here in the Lou.

Two shows on back-to-back nights. Starting with a freebie (mad props to my gay consigliere for the ticket hook-up) at the Gargoyle. Wolf Parade was lovely under the red and blue lights illuminating the basement of Wash U's former student center. Good college rock vibe. The Canadians called us "dudes" without a sense of irony and were generally pleased with the crowd. This being their second StL show, the last at the now defunct Rocket Bar, where they played after a Green Day cover band for about 4 people. Needless to say they were ecstatic for the turnout of StL hipsters en force. Call it a ritual, call it whatever you will...

Show 2 was at one of my fave venues, Blueberry Hill's Duck Room. Calexico packed them into the sold out U City basement and I was lucky enough to have scored an unclaimed ticket off a friend of a friend. The music was stellar, as always, and Joey Burns was looking especially dapper in a vest-tie-jeans combo. Accordion, trumpet, guitar, lap steel, whistling... it was lovely.

And while I enjoyed both of these shows in shoulder-to-shoulder crowds with friends, in the end both were more for the music itself than for the company. Ms. Nola always comments on my overly social nature and worries that I don't take enough time for myself. I can't help it, I crave people. But for some reason going to a show is not about that for me. This is the one time that I would almost rather be alone. With the music, with my thoughts. Calexico closed the set with their cover of Love's "Alone Again Or" to much raucousness from the crowd.

"You know that I could be in love with almost everyone and I think people are the greatest fun."
And I will be alone again tonight, my dear...

Sometimes, you have to cut your losses and realize a little solitude, no matter where you find it, goes a long way.

(political) words...

Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection.

this is the day your life will surely change

With the election less than a week away, I felt it was time to comment on the political buzzword of the 2008 campaign: change. It is apparent to me, you, and everyone we know, that change is needed and with any luck, is a-comin'... But what about change as a verb to describe my own life? I keep replaying the last scene in Empire Records in my head. (Yes, I own this movie on VHS and yes, I have watched it far more times than anyone would like to admit.) You know, the scene where Liv Tyler gets the boy who's crazy about her instead of the jerky washed-up rock star and all the store employees dance on the roof to celebrate the saving of the business from the evil corporate buy-out and the scene fades out with a The The song playing in the background as the neon flashes and the sun comes up...

This is the day your life will surely change.
This is the day when things fall into place.

I would have to agree that there can be moments like this, but are usually only seen in retrospect. Or maybe I just fantasize about having moments like this, but find that change is never action, only a noun describing what took place. Who looks back over the course of a year, 5, 10, a lifetime and says that is the day where I saw change? It unfolded in front of me. I was there and I was part of it, not just witness to the by-product. I keep coming back to the idea of self and being selfish in the moment, for the moment. I need to act and not simply react. Achieving this mentality has been at the top of a steep learning curve for me, given my propensity to care too much. But I am finding a balance that makes me happy. Have I been witness to my life changing? Maybe a little... again, this is more a reflection than anything else. But I do have my eyes out for it now. And the next time, I think I will see it in time to ride out the moment. And hopefully the Soundtrack to My Life will cue up right along with it. Likely some REO Speedwagon... ;)

PS... Don't forget to GET OUT THE VOTE on November 4th!

the Wisconsin beer list

In no particular order, the beers I consumed during my trip last weekend...

1. Lakefront Brewery Trocadero White Ale (Milwaukee) - My first beer of the trip. A light, Belgian-style Wit enjoyed on the patio of the Trocadero Bar along with a Wisconsin cheese flight.
   
2. Lakefront Brewery Eastside Dark Lager (Milwaukee) - Malty, tasty, and a bit more my speed. Definitely went better with the 10 year aged cheddar, too.
   
3. Lakefront Brewery Fat Abbey Strong Ale (Milwaukee) - Nightcap at the Trocadero's sister bar, Fat Abbey. Sticking with the high alcohol content after the Man Man show. Yum.
   
4. Water Street Brewery Oktoberfest (Milwaukee) - Probably one of the sweeter Oktoberfest's I've had. Wasn't a big fan of this one. Though I did love the classic Fish Fry at the Turner Restaurant. Mmmm, potato pancakes...
5. Water Street Brewery Pale Ale (Milwaukee) - Better, but nothing to write home about.
   
6. Furthermore Proper (Spring Green) - Interesting style. Drinkable.
   
7. Furthermore Fallen Apple (Spring Green) - A blend of cream ale (totally underrated yet delicious beer in my humble opinion) and cider. Had the nicest finish.
   
8. New Glarus Fat Squirrel (New Glarus) - Dark, cold, pleasantly bitter... Which also happens to describe our campsite as we spent the evening trying to get a decent fire going.
   
9. Ale Asylum Hopalicious (Madison) - Best hoppy beer of the trip. A pitcher for $11 on the Wisconsin Union Terrace. Definitely added to the entertainment factor of BMX boys grinding on the railings and the multiple wedding party photoshoots.
   
10. Gray's Oatmeal Stout (Janesville) - "Chewy" and smooth, as all good oatmeal stouts should be.
    
11. Sean's ESB (Home-brew) - Big thanks to Sean for his hospitality and sharing a pre-show brew with us.
    
12. Pabst Blue Ribbon (Milwaukee) - I'm sorry, but 16 oz cans do NOT qualify as tall boys.
    

fall leaves fall

Counting down the hours until MJS and I head out for our Fall Break Road Trip^TM. Su-wheet! I heart everything about FBRTs... headlights, crisp nights, changing leaves, singing too loud and off-key over the engine-wind-hum, junk food from convenience marts, dotted yellow lines, amusing Midwestern signage... We are hitting up Madison and Milwaukee for a 4-day weekend filled with old college friends (from the Mawr and Mizzou, respectively), microbreweries, urban exploring, farmers' markets, coffee fixes, hiking/camping, cheese, an indie rock show, and whatever other trouble we can get ourselves into.

Thinking about this trip reminds me of when I visited Ms. Nola in NH during the fall of 2001. We bought and cooked delicious food from the Dartmouth co-op and a tiny farmers' market across the river in Vermont- I still think that was the best goat cheese I ever had. We made a trip to the Ben and Jerry's factory to take the tour, encouraged each others' window shopping, took pictures in the leaves on the quad and watched undergrads running around burning pyres. Such a great time. I look back at photos of that trip (taken on my old school SLR, which I am bringing with me to document this weekend, hooray!) and I think of how happy fall makes me feel. Warm colors, coziness, harvest, good friends, and sucking in every moment of sunlight and life as it will too soon be winter and bleak... Fall is contentment. I don't think I could ask for anything else at the moment to inspire me more.

Travelling, A Eulogy

After the Second World War
William A. Colman returned
To his mother's old Victorian
On South Union Street
In his hometown of Burlington, Vermont,
Without much parade or fanfare.

William spent his days
Training to be a boxer,
A pastime that kept his mind
Off distant French shores.
Hours at the local YMCA
Hoping to catch the eye
Of some mustachioed promoter
Up from Boston, Mass.
Or maybe an exotic Quebecois.

Tucked in a pocket of his trunks
Was his brown leather wallet,
A gift from his mother
Before he crossed the Atlantic.
She had always been fierce,
With ties to Mohawk Indians and
Green Mountain Boys.
And had offered reassurance that
The ancient design on the cover:
A swirl, a knot, black and
Gold and pine, all etched
Would bring him luck or protection.
William didn't care which.

Time does not remember
William A. Coleman as a fighter
In neither trunks nor fatigues.
He is only survived by
A wallet, faded and cracked
In a roadside antique store
Thirty miles south…

For a small souvenir
Of my New England travels,
I paid ten dollars
To glimpse the story within
A yellowed ID card
And his expired Y pass.

ABW
October 2001

I traded all the innocence I ever had for hesitation

I'd like to offer up some recent thematic reprises in the RO+2 story arc:

• Live music crackrock perfection
  

Now: Neko Case, Stars, and karaoke at Talayana's
Then: Holidaze, somewhere in the middle you fall, 5 days, 3 shows

• Autumnal revelries with my best peeps
  

Now: Best of MO/Shaw Art Fair, apple picking, local foods, impending Midwestern road trips
Then: really good short story, return of the prodigal daughter

• Dating- Good times and/or vast abyss of confusion
  

Now: ?!?@?@?!&&%%$! (i.e. at a loss for words, both positive and negative)
Then: Sorry I was cruel, when I'm drunk it's easy...

Lately I've been doing my share of negotiating of now vs. then. Old comfortable friends with new acquaintances. Wrapping up old projects, while moving on to new ones. Being a scientist-educator-activist, but trying to maintain my play-hard mantra. It's easy to get weighed down in worrying about balance, about doing the right thing at the right time, about what other people want. Negotiating self with all those little external pieces that fit in around and complement who you are. It's easy to get stuck and hesitate. Thinking about the last year, I keep coming back to moments when I realize that at the end of the day, all that matters is just me. How I feel sometimes about everything and everyone else- overwhelmed, frustrated, blissful, content, all of the above- doesn't necessarily have to equate with where I am in my life. My happiness is not wrapped up in these things I find elsewhere. And my happiness can't be diminished by them. Focus in the moment becomes key. And for that, negotiation is negligible... it's simply about remembering that I can only be true to myself.