Tim is my straight guy, part-time rocker, hair stylist. I've been seeing him for years. He's got an easy way about him. Yesterday, he gave me a great hair cut, which I really needed (also, if it had not been a good haircut after this particular week, I might have really lost my shit, so I'm doubly glad/grateful).
Moira is a work friend who is also a real friend, and shares my delight in just about everything Sarah Koenig does, particularly in relation to SERIAL. Last night, as soon as SK posted an update about the Adnan case to the SERIAL website, Moira texted it to me. I'm grateful that she thought of me, that we have that connection...and also that Sarah Koenig is finally weighing in on the Adnan case again (I've missed her).
Missy and Sean have continued to be their angelic selves, and had me over for dinner and pumpkin carving last night.
I'm grateful that it's Friday morning, and when I couldn't sleep this morning, I managed to pull myself out of bed and cleaned my house, which really needed it. I can feel myself sort of orienting and getting myself in order a bit - which feels like a good sign.
I'm grateful that I have Friday evening plans, and also that I may still wind up on the couch with the DVR and no agenda.
I'm not grateful for insomnia. The loss of sleep is also the loss of energy and of a vibrant day. But I am grateful for the quiet time that is found when the whole world is sleeping between the hours of 3:00 am and 6:00 am. Ambulances still go by on my street - but their loud sirens are silenced. There's no foot traffic or laughter or yelling in the city streets around the house. My cats are generally in the basement for the night so that they can enjoy their nocturnal shenanigans, which means that even the inside of the house is still. I'm grateful for that stillness and quiet.
My friend Alex, is one of my Big Brother Gays. Not in that he's all knowing and watching like the Orwell story (though he can be a know it all), but in that being around him has typically felt like the comfort of having an older sibling. Who is also gay. Who is also bigger than me (he's 6'4). I'm grateful for our afternoon coffee break and chat yesterday afternoon. We talked about break ups, and companionship, and families and also about drag because it's the time of year in DC (MAMP is coming, y'all).
Reese is maybe ten weeks old. She is brand new. She's the second daughter of my work wife, Lisa - whom I no longer work with. But, Lisa and Phoebe and I had lunch at District Taco yesterday, and sweet baby Reese came in her stroller. She was asleep for most of lunch, but she smiled with her fat baby cheeks and occasionally looked over at me with her wise eyes. She is just the sweetest little peanut, I can't even believe it. It was lovely to have lunch with Lisa and Phoebe, but really - Reese is the quiet storm of the bunch.
Missy and Sean are hovering over me. There are texts, and calls and emails. They are pointedly being present while I'm a little sad, which is a blessing (and I don't even use words like blessing, so there's that.)
Vespers. I also don't use words like vespers, but I'm grateful to have stumbled upon them last night. Walking home from the gym, I was thinking that what I'd most like at that very moment would be to have a quiet sit in the soft pink sanctuary of All Souls. I walked a little bit out of my way to go by the church, and there was a sign saying that Vespers were starting in 32 minutes. I soaked in the quiet, and felt better.
Nineties music is the spiritual and emotional equivalent of drinking a large fountain soda, purchased in a box store, where the cup gets wet with beads of sweat from the icy cold diet chemicals on the inside. It's not very good for you, but it feels AWESOME and comforting. It gives an immediate sugar rush, that is - frankly - the best. Admittedly, I'm biased in my love for music from that decade - it's when I was in high school, college and Americorps - and the sciencey doctor people all say that there's a powerful connection in your brain to music that you listened to when you were young. So maybe it's just that. Whatever, it doesn't matter. I'm so glad that it exists and that sometimes, like last night, it reaches up, grabs me, and swallows me whole. Patrick, Erin and I went to the White Ford Broncos benefit concert for N Street village. I was tired and not at all sure that I wanted to be there, until the opening chords of the first song started, and the cover of Better Than Ezra's Good hit the room, and everything felt amazing. Holy shit, that was fun. Notably, they didn't play any Counting Crows (Erin was brutally disappointed), nor any Gin Blossoms (the best of the 90's best), but still - generally, they killed. Also, the show was over by 9:30, which I really appreciated because I'm old and tired and it was a school night.
My friend Courtney swears a lot, and has very little tolerance for other people's bullshit. She's a colleague, who has become a friend, and was the perfect person to see for lunch yesterday for a little perspective on both life and work. I'm grateful for her, and also for a job that gives me flexibility to be remote when I need/want to. Also, it's super important in life to have people that speak the same language as you. She and I do that. Or we have similar lenses. Or something. There's an understanding and connection around priorities, who's an asshole and why, and also eating tasty healthy lunches that we can enjoy, but not feel like we're going to have to spend an hour on the treadmill to make up for. Bless.
The Democrats are my team, the same way that people who follow sportsball love their teams. I love them, and I root for them. Sometimes they break my heart. Mostly they make me proud. Last night, I was proud that the Dems had a civil debate. They talked about ideas. They didn't attack one another personally. They were grown ups. This is my party. These are my people. This is my team.
Sandy is my "voice inside my head" friend. We talk most days on the way to work. Her life is in Madison, mine is in DC. We are very different, and also remarkably similar. She is the person I process my life with the most, and in that, is also one of my chief witnesses and soundboards. Yesterday was a bittersweet post-breakup day, which meant that I talked to her a couple of times, and felt better and more grounded each time. This has been a bit of a hard week, but also a healthy one. There's a lot to be grateful for.
Josh Ritter (who's song lyrics inspired this blog), is my go-to muse. I love that he's three months older than me...which means basically my same age. It makes me oddly proud that in the Great Book of Art, he's the guy that we're throwing up to represent people born in 1976. He's a poet, and a rocker, and has carved a path that's almost entirely his own. He's not a household name by any stretch, but is known and beloved by a deeply devoted fan base who seek his writing and joy for performing out where and whenever we can. His old albums are constant go-tos for me, particularly when I need comfort, and his new album (which comes out Friday) already feels like it will soon be an old friend. Everyone who has access to a device that plays music should listen to him immediately.
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
Day One - Tuesday Mornings, October 13, 2015 There's something great about Tuesday mornings. The newness of the week has worn off enough, that it's not too much of a shock to get out of bed. Inertia was broken by Monday - that's the hardest part. By Tuesday, the week is still fresh, it's starting to get rolling - but typically hasn't dragged on and made everyone tired yet. There are some great songs about Tuesday Mornings, notably this song by the Pogues that is one of my all time very favorite songs:
So, it's great that today starts this little writing project. Each day, or as many days as I can muster, I'll write briefly about at least three things that I'm grateful for. I'll do my best not to be too precious or sweet about it - gratitude oughtn't give one a sugar crash to read about. I'll try to be personal, without being too much. Specific, without details. Or something. We'll see how this goes.
I'm thankful for the last seven months with Adam. He is a very tall man with a tremendous heart. He's a grown up, direct and open with his feelings and has a midwestern sensibility that grants him uncommonly good common sense. I'm also grateful for this quote from Helena Bonham Carter, on her divorce from Tim Burton: “We did find each other. And really, the mark of a successful relationship shouldn’t be whether you’re there forever after. Sometimes you’re not meant to be forever together. Sometimes you have to come to terms with the fact that that was it. But that was a gift, a massive gift." Godspeed, good man.
My friends Missy and Sean are two of the people I know who are most filled with laughter. It pours out of them, it's impossible not to laugh with them. Last night, they saw me as only dear friends can - and understood that I needed their comfort and courage in equal amounts. I'm also grateful for their freakin gorgeous backyard and grape vine-covered trellis, where I plan to drink many, many glasses of wine.
Amy Poehler is much beloved in many corners of our culture right now, and for good reason. She is sincere without being overly sweet. Wickedly smart and funny, but not mean. I was late to the Parks and Recreation, and just finished it in the last couple of weeks on Hulu. This morning, when I couldn't sleep, I watched the extended version of the series finale again. I would like very much if Amy Poehler as Leslie Knope could appear in my living room this morning, gently touch my arm and show me my future. But shy of that, I'm grateful for this gorgeous little show, that was funny and sweet and made sincerity cool in a really fresh and rare way. I'm grateful for this show, and it's goodness (both how good it is, and also that it's about being good).
