yesterday, i read a tweet from a woman that really struck a chord with me. she was basically saying how she needed to go on a journey to become who she wanted to be and that she couldn't do that at home. i can so identify with that.
as longtime readers and friends know, "home" has always been a bit of a tenuous concept for me. i actually wrote about this a couple of years ago and it still rings true.
there are those people who wonder(ed) why i didn't just move back home when my life started falling apart in earnest back in 2011. the simplest answer is that i don't really consider any of my siblings' domiciles as "home" for me. moving in with one of them would be disastrous. this is my life and i know it sounds incredibly selfish, but i need to live it on my terms. i can not afford to move back or look back. i have worked too hard during the past 20 years and some change to make myself into the person i am and i don't want to risk reverting to the person i was in high school when they still had a major influence on me. hell, the fact that i still haven't actually told them about everything that happened with the eviction and couch surfing and bouncing around should speak volumes. i mean it when i say that i love my family, but it's best if i continue to love them from a distance.
in hindsight, that stretch of time i spent couch surfing and quasi-nannying and housesitting and whatever else it took for me to get back "home" to chicago taught me a lot. it showed me once again that i have some of the most amazing friends on the planet. it reminded me that i am way more resilient and resourceful than i tend to give myself credit for. it was difficult and if you were around back then, you know there was crying and gnashing of teeth and i might've pulled out some of my hair and banged my head on both proverbial and literal walls. there were times when i could not figure out how the hell i was going to make this shit work. there were a lot of times when i thought i'd fucked everything up beyond repair and i might actually have to phone "home." that was enough to make me cry even more, to be quite honest.
chalk one up to my tenacity, or stubbornness, or both. some positive things happened and i made some steps forward and look at me now. i am hoping to be in a place of my own by my 40th birthday and there's no way i would have publicly committed to that kind of timetable a few years ago. hell, just reading that sentence has me freaking out a bit like "omg what if it doesn't happen by then?" it's ok. i am in a stable place and i have the luxury of time to figure out what i really want to do in terms of moving and i don't need to rush into anything.
this has been one helluva journey and if i'm truthful with myself, i wouldn't trade it for "moving back home" at all. no way. i think it laid a lot of the groundwork for the whole "this is all part of the work" thing i've been focused on this year. it was worth it. i'm proud of myself and thankful for y'all at the same damn time. :-)
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
Saturday, December 19, 2015
a song* for you on saturday
(*-no actual songs here)
it's no secret that i am one of the biggest and best (worst?) enablers my friends can possibly have. you can have an idea that, on its face, sounds like the most ridiculous or silly or impossible thing in the history of everything, and i will be the cheerleader in your corner like "do it! #embracethecrazy! let's go!"
i have told countless friends to take care of themselves because there's no way they can be there for other people if they're not their best selves. i believe that. i really do. i know in my heart of hearts that for me, dispensing black girl magic is impossible if i don't at least feel a little magical myself. this is a thing that is true.
i also know that yesterday i stayed in bed and didn't get into the shower until about 1:45pm. that is not normal behavior for me. i shower every day the good lord sees fit to bless me with because hygiene is important. even if i'm not leaving the house, i will shower and throw on something that resembles clothing and proceed with full laziness.
i woke up around 4am friday morning and once my brain realized that hey, i'd only been asleep for about 2 hours at that point, i passed back out. i was awake again around 7am and pretty much spent the morning and a good chunk of the afternoon alternating between sleep, dreaming, crying, daydreaming, and just being quiet.
the crying part kinda took me aback because, well, it was the morning after my birthday and i felt like i was in a pretty good place emotionally. in one of those quiet moments, i realized i was worried about that crying fit because i didn't want to revisit that weekend in october when i really thought i was going to end it all. i didn't want to allow myself the luxury, silly as that sounds, of breaking all the way down.
but i did. i rolled around in this bed and cried and dreamed and slept and daydreamed and thought and stayed quiet. a part of my brain was all "OMFG why aren't you up and moving?" and i had to remind myself that i didn't have anywhere to be until about 6pm or so. yes, i felt a bit guilty b/c i knew housekeeping would eventually want/need to come in and refresh my room and i was throwing the staff off schedule, but it's not the first time i've been that guy and i got over that relatively quickly.
i remembered a day off i had when i was still living in skokie. i'd talked myself into not getting out of bed until i absolutely had to and i don't think i showered until well after 3pm that day. a friend came over later that day and when i told them about my morning/afternoon, they were kinda surprised because they know how i roll even on my off days. i wasn't sick. i'd just decided to let whatever emo feels i was having that day take over until i felt like i could shower and get moving.
i think that's what happened yesterday morning/afternoon. i wasn't feeling depressed. i wasn't sad. a part of me was just like, "oh, fuck it. you don't have anything scheduled and you're not at home and you don't have to wear pants and SO THE FUCK WHAT if you just wanna stay in bed for hours and hours and hours?" don't get me wrong, guys. i tried getting up a couple of times and my body was just like "NOPE" and i said ok.
giving myself permission to wallow is still something i struggle with, obviously. by no means do i want or need to wear a superwoman cape b/c that shit is fucking exhausting and i am not built for that life. that much i know about myself. i also know that sometimes i have to shut the entire fuck up and take my own advice. if my body and brain agree that it's a perfect time for me to have some feelings and stay in bed because i won't be interrupted, then i should probably honor that.
not everything needs to be scheduled. bff was kinda shocked when i said that i didn't have a totally packed schedule for my birthday week(end). i told her that i knew i was going to want/need a little time to decompress so i could be ready to power through the rest of the year and get ready for 2016 and whatever it was going to throw at me. she got it, even though i didn't really believe myself when i said it.
i mean, really. how i am going to keep telling people that they deserve every and all good things that come their way if i can't or won't convince myself that i deserve that same kind of greatness? take today, for example. i decided that i wanted to watch sports and drink wine and not wear pants this afternoon, and i am doing just that. it is as glorious as it sounds. i deserve it. i know i'm going home tomorrow and going back to work on monday and real life will be all "here, have some fuckshit" and i will need to be ready. said fuckshit might not even be directed at me, but i want/need to be prepared just in case. "you can't be good to other people if you're not good to yourself" or some variation thereof is a thing i have said/typed to who knows how many people this year. i know i have to do the same.
this is me owning my shit, which has been one of the major themes of 2015 for me. as a dear friend told me earlier this year when i was going on and on about meeting people where they are (another major theme), i have to also meet myself where i am and be ok with whatever and wherever that is. it's not easy, but it's worth doing because it's part of the work (yup, another theme this year).
and now i will go pour myself another glass of wine (yes, i am actually using a wine glass today) and continue watching sports and remain pantsless for as long as possible.
it's no secret that i am one of the biggest and best (worst?) enablers my friends can possibly have. you can have an idea that, on its face, sounds like the most ridiculous or silly or impossible thing in the history of everything, and i will be the cheerleader in your corner like "do it! #embracethecrazy! let's go!"
i have told countless friends to take care of themselves because there's no way they can be there for other people if they're not their best selves. i believe that. i really do. i know in my heart of hearts that for me, dispensing black girl magic is impossible if i don't at least feel a little magical myself. this is a thing that is true.
i also know that yesterday i stayed in bed and didn't get into the shower until about 1:45pm. that is not normal behavior for me. i shower every day the good lord sees fit to bless me with because hygiene is important. even if i'm not leaving the house, i will shower and throw on something that resembles clothing and proceed with full laziness.
i woke up around 4am friday morning and once my brain realized that hey, i'd only been asleep for about 2 hours at that point, i passed back out. i was awake again around 7am and pretty much spent the morning and a good chunk of the afternoon alternating between sleep, dreaming, crying, daydreaming, and just being quiet.
the crying part kinda took me aback because, well, it was the morning after my birthday and i felt like i was in a pretty good place emotionally. in one of those quiet moments, i realized i was worried about that crying fit because i didn't want to revisit that weekend in october when i really thought i was going to end it all. i didn't want to allow myself the luxury, silly as that sounds, of breaking all the way down.
but i did. i rolled around in this bed and cried and dreamed and slept and daydreamed and thought and stayed quiet. a part of my brain was all "OMFG why aren't you up and moving?" and i had to remind myself that i didn't have anywhere to be until about 6pm or so. yes, i felt a bit guilty b/c i knew housekeeping would eventually want/need to come in and refresh my room and i was throwing the staff off schedule, but it's not the first time i've been that guy and i got over that relatively quickly.
i remembered a day off i had when i was still living in skokie. i'd talked myself into not getting out of bed until i absolutely had to and i don't think i showered until well after 3pm that day. a friend came over later that day and when i told them about my morning/afternoon, they were kinda surprised because they know how i roll even on my off days. i wasn't sick. i'd just decided to let whatever emo feels i was having that day take over until i felt like i could shower and get moving.
i think that's what happened yesterday morning/afternoon. i wasn't feeling depressed. i wasn't sad. a part of me was just like, "oh, fuck it. you don't have anything scheduled and you're not at home and you don't have to wear pants and SO THE FUCK WHAT if you just wanna stay in bed for hours and hours and hours?" don't get me wrong, guys. i tried getting up a couple of times and my body was just like "NOPE" and i said ok.
giving myself permission to wallow is still something i struggle with, obviously. by no means do i want or need to wear a superwoman cape b/c that shit is fucking exhausting and i am not built for that life. that much i know about myself. i also know that sometimes i have to shut the entire fuck up and take my own advice. if my body and brain agree that it's a perfect time for me to have some feelings and stay in bed because i won't be interrupted, then i should probably honor that.
not everything needs to be scheduled. bff was kinda shocked when i said that i didn't have a totally packed schedule for my birthday week(end). i told her that i knew i was going to want/need a little time to decompress so i could be ready to power through the rest of the year and get ready for 2016 and whatever it was going to throw at me. she got it, even though i didn't really believe myself when i said it.
i mean, really. how i am going to keep telling people that they deserve every and all good things that come their way if i can't or won't convince myself that i deserve that same kind of greatness? take today, for example. i decided that i wanted to watch sports and drink wine and not wear pants this afternoon, and i am doing just that. it is as glorious as it sounds. i deserve it. i know i'm going home tomorrow and going back to work on monday and real life will be all "here, have some fuckshit" and i will need to be ready. said fuckshit might not even be directed at me, but i want/need to be prepared just in case. "you can't be good to other people if you're not good to yourself" or some variation thereof is a thing i have said/typed to who knows how many people this year. i know i have to do the same.
this is me owning my shit, which has been one of the major themes of 2015 for me. as a dear friend told me earlier this year when i was going on and on about meeting people where they are (another major theme), i have to also meet myself where i am and be ok with whatever and wherever that is. it's not easy, but it's worth doing because it's part of the work (yup, another theme this year).
and now i will go pour myself another glass of wine (yes, i am actually using a wine glass today) and continue watching sports and remain pantsless for as long as possible.
Friday, December 18, 2015
for a colored girl who had a rainbow connection on her birthday
i was in my hotel room last night flipping channels (there's a channel called planes trains and automobiles and i totally got sucked into watching it for a good half hour or so) before i went to bed and "the muppet movie" was on amc. it was technically no longer my birthday since it was after midnight, but i was still counting it as a birthday miracle.
i love the muppet movie. it is one of my all-time favorite movies. i mean that without any irony. i love that movie even though i cry at the ending every single time like i don't already know that "the rainbow connection" won't hit me directly in the feels.
so to close out my birthday with the last few minutes of one of my favorite movies was great, especially since i actually heard from more family members than i thought i would on my birthday.
my family, my brothers in particular, hated the muppet movie. family legend has it that my parents took me to see the muppet movie in theaters and when it was over, i bawled b/c i wanted to see it again. my father had to bribe my brothers (i feel like this is something james would've had to do as the youngest brother, but maybe all 3 of them were involved) to take me back the next day to see the muppet movie again.
i have no idea how my family feels about the muppet movie these days. i honestly have no idea how they feel about a lot of things and i'm ok with that. what i know is that yesterday was my birthday and they managed to get their collective acts together and call/text me to wish me a happy birthday and actually mean it. and then i closed out my celebration by crying while singing "the rainbow connection" for the 5011th time. it was almost too perfect and i tweeted that i had to tell this story today b/c i knew i was a bit too sleepy (and, let's be honest, a bit too unsober) to do the story justice last night.
thanks, universe. you sure know how to make a girl feel special on her special day. more of those kinds of awesome coincidences and not so much the ones that completely suck, mmkay? thanks.
i love the muppet movie. it is one of my all-time favorite movies. i mean that without any irony. i love that movie even though i cry at the ending every single time like i don't already know that "the rainbow connection" won't hit me directly in the feels.
so to close out my birthday with the last few minutes of one of my favorite movies was great, especially since i actually heard from more family members than i thought i would on my birthday.
my family, my brothers in particular, hated the muppet movie. family legend has it that my parents took me to see the muppet movie in theaters and when it was over, i bawled b/c i wanted to see it again. my father had to bribe my brothers (i feel like this is something james would've had to do as the youngest brother, but maybe all 3 of them were involved) to take me back the next day to see the muppet movie again.
i have no idea how my family feels about the muppet movie these days. i honestly have no idea how they feel about a lot of things and i'm ok with that. what i know is that yesterday was my birthday and they managed to get their collective acts together and call/text me to wish me a happy birthday and actually mean it. and then i closed out my celebration by crying while singing "the rainbow connection" for the 5011th time. it was almost too perfect and i tweeted that i had to tell this story today b/c i knew i was a bit too sleepy (and, let's be honest, a bit too unsober) to do the story justice last night.
thanks, universe. you sure know how to make a girl feel special on her special day. more of those kinds of awesome coincidences and not so much the ones that completely suck, mmkay? thanks.
Thursday, December 17, 2015
39
i woke up feeling like prince akeem: "why yes, it IS my birthday!"
where are my royal bathers and rose petal bearers?!?
— eulalia (@queeneulalia) December 17, 2015
holy shit i am now 39 years old. i just read through my blog entries from 2015 and i can't believe i'm here. no, really. those suicidal thoughts i had in october could have developed into something much more serious and dangerous, if not deadly.
i'm glad i'm still here. i'm glad that a lot of the things i've been working on this year, like meeting people where they are and owning up to shit and making peace with this empath/caregiver walk of mine, have proven to be the things that i really should be focusing on. i'm glad that i still get to play enabler and cheerleader for so many of you. that we're all working on embracing the crazy and dreaming big and living our lives as fully as we can.
the coming year (fucking hell i'm going to be 40 next year!) is shaping up to be a helluva ride. i'm excited and, not even gonna lie, a little scared at the same time. i don't know how things are going to play out, let alone if they're going to play out in my favor or how i would like them to, but i am going to try my damnedest to trust the process.
thanks for sticking around for another year. hopefully we can look back on 2015 (after punching it in the face) and laugh ourselves silly about some of it when it's all said and done.
Wednesday, December 09, 2015
wake me up when december ends
december's always a fun month for me. not just because of #alldecembereverything (birthday in 8 days! wheeeee!), but because i tend to start looking forward to the coming year and seriously thinking about what i want and about what's realistic for me.
i have some goals for 2016 that appear to be a bit lofty, but i think i can nail most of them before i turn 40 next year. (yes, i'm old. shut up.)
some of them are easy enough on their face, like getting a tattoo (it'll be my first one) and maybe throwing myself a massive birthday party (it is a milestone birthday next year, after all) and continuing to pay down my debt (thank god for baby steps).
but then there's moving.
i am so ready to move, and yet i occasionally wonder if i'm pushing myself too much. never mind that my goal since being evicted in 2011 was to get back into a place of my own.
it's that nagging voice of self-doubt. the one that says wanting more is absurd. that i should be glad for my current situation and just be content with its stability.
y'all know me, though. that's not how i tend to roll. one of the primary reasons why i've managed to hold on for so long during the past few years is because i had/have an ultimate goal in mind. something to keep working toward and striving for.
maybe part of it is not knowing what my next major goal is after i'm in a place of my own again. my type-a minus personality likes order and structure and not having a firm plan of attack is enough to make my skin crawl. that's a constant battle, really - giving myself permission to be flexible and go with the flow vs. needing to know what's gonna happen next.
i have some goals for 2016 that appear to be a bit lofty, but i think i can nail most of them before i turn 40 next year. (yes, i'm old. shut up.)
some of them are easy enough on their face, like getting a tattoo (it'll be my first one) and maybe throwing myself a massive birthday party (it is a milestone birthday next year, after all) and continuing to pay down my debt (thank god for baby steps).
but then there's moving.
i am so ready to move, and yet i occasionally wonder if i'm pushing myself too much. never mind that my goal since being evicted in 2011 was to get back into a place of my own.
it's that nagging voice of self-doubt. the one that says wanting more is absurd. that i should be glad for my current situation and just be content with its stability.
y'all know me, though. that's not how i tend to roll. one of the primary reasons why i've managed to hold on for so long during the past few years is because i had/have an ultimate goal in mind. something to keep working toward and striving for.
maybe part of it is not knowing what my next major goal is after i'm in a place of my own again. my type-a minus personality likes order and structure and not having a firm plan of attack is enough to make my skin crawl. that's a constant battle, really - giving myself permission to be flexible and go with the flow vs. needing to know what's gonna happen next.
Tuesday, November 24, 2015
on: thanksgiving and hitting the road
as the #thanksgivingwithblackfamilies hashtag started to take off on twitter last night and as i was trying to go the fuck to sleep, i got to thinking about just how often i actually spend thanksgiving (or any "major" holiday, really) with my family.
before my father died, thanksgiving was a holiday we almost always without fail spent together. i can not tell you the number of times we'd hit the road the night before thanksgiving to go down to st. louis to see my paternal grandmother and all our 5011 cousins/aunts/uncles/other relatives that lived in and around st. louis. sometimes we'd go up to michigan to see some other relatives who lived right outside of kalamazoo. it was rare for us, at least as far as i can recall, to actually be at home in chicago on thanksgiving.
even while i was at northwestern, i knew that as soon as i was done with classes and work on that wednesday before thanksgiving, daddy would be on his way to pick me up or i'd be on my way to the train to head home because we were going SOMEWHERE. i had a friend who lived near st. louis and she tagged along for the ride one year. good times.
i can probably count on one hand the number of times i've had thanksgiving with my relatives since daddy died. i'm pretty sure i stayed in the dorm senior year and went somewhere in downtown evanston for thanksgiving year. while troy & i were married, we either went down south to see his family or we stayed home. after the divorce, i have either stayed home or hung out with other friends.
this is not a lament. please don't take this as a "woe is me i haven't had thanksgiving with my family in forever and i really miss them" kind of thing. if i really wanted to go, i would. trust me. as dysfunctional as we are, i know i could call/text and say "hey, what y'all cooking for thanksgiving and what time are we eating?" and once they got over the shock because i never call them, we'd figure it out. and that's ok.
but i haven't had to. last year i hung out with some friends and then went home to dinner with quasi-landlord and her friends and family. this year, i'm hitting the road with friends to go visit some other friends and when i tell y'all that i am excited about this trip? it's time for a break for all kinds of reasons for a lot of us and i'm glad things worked out so i can actually hit the road.
so among the oh-so-many other things i have to be thankful for this year, i can add having the family i've created through the years so i don't necessarily have to feel alone during thanksgiving. i can be thankful for the chance to get out of town, even if it's only for a few days.
before my father died, thanksgiving was a holiday we almost always without fail spent together. i can not tell you the number of times we'd hit the road the night before thanksgiving to go down to st. louis to see my paternal grandmother and all our 5011 cousins/aunts/uncles/other relatives that lived in and around st. louis. sometimes we'd go up to michigan to see some other relatives who lived right outside of kalamazoo. it was rare for us, at least as far as i can recall, to actually be at home in chicago on thanksgiving.
even while i was at northwestern, i knew that as soon as i was done with classes and work on that wednesday before thanksgiving, daddy would be on his way to pick me up or i'd be on my way to the train to head home because we were going SOMEWHERE. i had a friend who lived near st. louis and she tagged along for the ride one year. good times.
i can probably count on one hand the number of times i've had thanksgiving with my relatives since daddy died. i'm pretty sure i stayed in the dorm senior year and went somewhere in downtown evanston for thanksgiving year. while troy & i were married, we either went down south to see his family or we stayed home. after the divorce, i have either stayed home or hung out with other friends.
this is not a lament. please don't take this as a "woe is me i haven't had thanksgiving with my family in forever and i really miss them" kind of thing. if i really wanted to go, i would. trust me. as dysfunctional as we are, i know i could call/text and say "hey, what y'all cooking for thanksgiving and what time are we eating?" and once they got over the shock because i never call them, we'd figure it out. and that's ok.
but i haven't had to. last year i hung out with some friends and then went home to dinner with quasi-landlord and her friends and family. this year, i'm hitting the road with friends to go visit some other friends and when i tell y'all that i am excited about this trip? it's time for a break for all kinds of reasons for a lot of us and i'm glad things worked out so i can actually hit the road.
so among the oh-so-many other things i have to be thankful for this year, i can add having the family i've created through the years so i don't necessarily have to feel alone during thanksgiving. i can be thankful for the chance to get out of town, even if it's only for a few days.
Monday, November 23, 2015
#alldecembereverything: the 2015 edition
i know, i know - i start this celebration earlier and earlier with each passing year. this year's early start isn't technically my fault though. quasi-landlord offered to take me to dinner and to see one of my favorite musicals as an early birthday present this past saturday, and since when am i going to turn down dinner and a show, especially on someone else's dime?
that said, here's the (still sorta kinda in progress) list of #alldecembereverything activities. i'll add/edit as things pop up and as plans get firmed up.
tuesday, december 1 - chef's table at replay beer & bourbon and elixir in andersonville. tickets ($35 all inclusive) are still available as of this writing.
thursday, december 3 - bourbon women chicago holiday sip & shop at plum market in old town. if you're a member like i am, tickets are $10; non-member tickets are $15. registration is still open as of this writing.
thursday, december 3 through sunday, december 6 - one of a kind show at merchandise mart. you can keep an eye on goldstar for discounted tickets; they're currently sold out but it's possible that additional discounted tickets will be released. i will probably go friday night after work or on saturday, and i think i have one extra free ticket, so if you want in, let me know.
monday, december 14 - higher: renee fleming & patricia barber perform the music of patricia barber at the harris theater in millennium park. discounted tickets on goldstar are currently sold out, but as above, additional discounted tickets may be added if you want to keep an eye on them.
tuesday, december 15 - "self-portrait in a kanye mirror" at the museum of contemporary art. this event is included with museum admission, which just happens to be free on tuesdays for illinois residents.
thursday, december 17 - HOLY CRAP I'M 39 as of this date.
thursday, december 24 - there's been no discussion yet b/c it's still kinda early, but i'm pretty sure jesusjack will once again be a thing. you know you wanna come to the casino and sing happy birthday to jesus at midnight. :-)
in addition to the events listed above, there will likely be some sort of football and/or hockey watching between now and january. stay tuned.
that said, here's the (still sorta kinda in progress) list of #alldecembereverything activities. i'll add/edit as things pop up and as plans get firmed up.
tuesday, december 1 - chef's table at replay beer & bourbon and elixir in andersonville. tickets ($35 all inclusive) are still available as of this writing.
thursday, december 3 - bourbon women chicago holiday sip & shop at plum market in old town. if you're a member like i am, tickets are $10; non-member tickets are $15. registration is still open as of this writing.
thursday, december 3 through sunday, december 6 - one of a kind show at merchandise mart. you can keep an eye on goldstar for discounted tickets; they're currently sold out but it's possible that additional discounted tickets will be released. i will probably go friday night after work or on saturday, and i think i have one extra free ticket, so if you want in, let me know.
monday, december 14 - higher: renee fleming & patricia barber perform the music of patricia barber at the harris theater in millennium park. discounted tickets on goldstar are currently sold out, but as above, additional discounted tickets may be added if you want to keep an eye on them.
tuesday, december 15 - "self-portrait in a kanye mirror" at the museum of contemporary art. this event is included with museum admission, which just happens to be free on tuesdays for illinois residents.
thursday, december 17 - HOLY CRAP I'M 39 as of this date.
thursday, december 24 - there's been no discussion yet b/c it's still kinda early, but i'm pretty sure jesusjack will once again be a thing. you know you wanna come to the casino and sing happy birthday to jesus at midnight. :-)
in addition to the events listed above, there will likely be some sort of football and/or hockey watching between now and january. stay tuned.
Wednesday, November 18, 2015
recipe review: sweet potato & sausage soup
i had a package of italian sausage in the freezer and decided i needed to make a meal around it. i didn't want just pasta and tomato sauce and sausage, because that seemed too simple and i knew i'd actually have time to cook tonight since i'm not working tomorrow. i considered roasting the sausage with some grapes, but i remembered that i've done that before and i sorta kinda wanted to try something new, so off to the recipe files i went.
there were a couple of contenders, but i decided on this sweet potato & sausage soup. there's nothing about it i don't like: sweet potato, sausage, garlic, pasta, spinach...these are all among my favorite things.
here's what i did differently:
there were a couple of contenders, but i decided on this sweet potato & sausage soup. there's nothing about it i don't like: sweet potato, sausage, garlic, pasta, spinach...these are all among my favorite things.
here's what i did differently:
- i used a cup of whole wheat gemelli instead of small pasta shells because that's what i had on hand
- only 2 garlic cloves (i know, i was as shocked as you are) because these cloves were on the large side and also because quasi-landlord got a new garlic press and holy shit we get so much more garlic out of that thing now
- 1 sweet potato that weighed in at slightly more than 3/4 of a pound
- the package of italian sausage was 20oz, so slightly more than a pound
- reduced sodium chicken broth just b/c it's my preference
- 2 5oz bags of spinach/arugula mix because spinach and arugula are fucking delicious and also because the 5oz bags were the only spinach/arugula blends available when i went to the store tonight
oh, and i added a bit of trader joe's 21 seasoning salute (think mrs. dash) and a bit of creole seasoning at the end, in addition to the salt and pepper i used throughout. no measurements on the seasonings b/c i was just eyeballing and tasting as i went. i was worried about the sweet potatoes not cooking all the way through, but they did and were practically falling apart.
this definitely serves 6 - i had two bowls because i was starving and also because i'm getting blood work done tomorrow and therefore i have to start fasting later tonight, and there are easily 4 more servings left. i'm going to freeze most of it. hopefully it stands up whenever i thaw it out.
i would definitely make this again. maybe instead of pasta, i'd use some white beans - or maybe use them in addition to the pasta to make it a bit more filling. i'm sure this would work with chicken or turkey italian sausage if that's how you'd like to roll. obviously you'd use vegetable broth and skip the sausage altogether if you wanna try to make it vegetarian-friendly.
Thursday, November 12, 2015
making life better, one step at a time
i've been mulling this idea around for the past week or two: what if we all did one thing each day to make life better? it could be your life. it could be someone else's life. the thing in question doesn't have to be grandiose in scale. it can be tiny. you could be the only person who even knows that you did something, or you could broadcast it to the world.
i'm not sure where this idea came from, honestly. i think it's more about being mindful about steps i can take, big, small, or otherwise, to make my life better and/or improve the lives of others. i'm choosing to look at it as part of my empath/caregiver role - finding ways to improve while still being supportive. or something. i don't know.
who's with me on this? from now until the end of the year, let's all try to do at least one thing every day to make life better, either for yourself or for someone else. i haven't decided if i want to start keeping a list of these things yet, but if i do, it'll probably be here and/or on twitter. if you want to report on your progress, please feel free.
this could be fun. it could be enlightening. it could also really suck b/c we put too much pressure on ourselves to do something meaningful every day. i recognize that, hence the earlier point about your gesture not necessarily needing to be grand. you can define the gesture and you can define if you did it for yourself or for someone else or some combination thereof. i'm all about self-directed action here. :-)
i'm not sure where this idea came from, honestly. i think it's more about being mindful about steps i can take, big, small, or otherwise, to make my life better and/or improve the lives of others. i'm choosing to look at it as part of my empath/caregiver role - finding ways to improve while still being supportive. or something. i don't know.
who's with me on this? from now until the end of the year, let's all try to do at least one thing every day to make life better, either for yourself or for someone else. i haven't decided if i want to start keeping a list of these things yet, but if i do, it'll probably be here and/or on twitter. if you want to report on your progress, please feel free.
this could be fun. it could be enlightening. it could also really suck b/c we put too much pressure on ourselves to do something meaningful every day. i recognize that, hence the earlier point about your gesture not necessarily needing to be grand. you can define the gesture and you can define if you did it for yourself or for someone else or some combination thereof. i'm all about self-directed action here. :-)
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
on: seeing and being seen
[note: i originally jotted these thoughts a couple of weeks ago, and had decided to save them for later. given yesterday's events in missouri, i figured now was as good a time as any.]
10-31 6:20pm
it's not so much wanting to be noticed so much as it is not wanting to be rendered invisible. for me, anyway. it could also be true for other people of color or other marginalized folks or...i dunno.
i don't need to stand out anymore than i already do. i just want to be acknowledged. to not feel like my humanity is brushed aside or ignored or trampled on.
i know in my heart of hears that this isn't asking too much, and yet it feels like an ongoing battle. for every black lives matter, there's an all lives matter. for every black girls are magic, there is a what about xyz girls and their magic.
but we do matter. we are magical. what you see as "ugh get over it already" is us proclaiming our worth and our value to folks who would love to forget that we're even around. too bad.
10-31 6:20pm
it's not so much wanting to be noticed so much as it is not wanting to be rendered invisible. for me, anyway. it could also be true for other people of color or other marginalized folks or...i dunno.
i don't need to stand out anymore than i already do. i just want to be acknowledged. to not feel like my humanity is brushed aside or ignored or trampled on.
i know in my heart of hears that this isn't asking too much, and yet it feels like an ongoing battle. for every black lives matter, there's an all lives matter. for every black girls are magic, there is a what about xyz girls and their magic.
but we do matter. we are magical. what you see as "ugh get over it already" is us proclaiming our worth and our value to folks who would love to forget that we're even around. too bad.
Saturday, October 31, 2015
two weeks later...
[TW: a whole lot of depressing shit, with some mentions of suicide thrown in for good measure]
so, um, it's been an eventful two weeks or so over here, to say the least. thanks to everyone who reached out and checked up, and also thanks to those who expressed their support by keeping a distance because they know that's how we roll. i love y'all for it and i am thankful.
i don't know what's next. i am trying my damnedest to be ok with not knowing what's next, but my type a-minus personality is getting in my way. y'all know i need some semblance of order in at least some areas of my life, and the past couple of weeks have been anything but orderly or ordinary.
(if you have no idea what the hell i'm talking about when i refer to the events of two weeks ago, please go read this and then come back.)
as i was saying, the past 2 weeks have been a whirlwind and i don't really know what's next and i'm trying to be ok with the not knowing.
i'm trying to be ok, period. some days are easier than others. i thought i was doing ok last sunday, but as you'll see below from the stuff i scribbled throughout the day, i wasn't fully back to myself.
note that i'm italicizing last week's scribbles as a way of marking them as separate from this main entry.
10-25 1:51pm
writing for when you look down at your wrists a week after your first suicidal episode in more than 20 years and you think maybe you should get matching tattoos on both wrists because then you won't be as likely to slit your wrists.
yes, this is my life right now. at least i'm still around to write about it, right? right.
~5:10pm
writing for when you play carl thomas' "emotional" at the bar and your friends are excited but they don't really get how true and how real some of the lyrics are for you. you almost wanna say something, but it's kinda taking all you have to keep your facade going and therefore you just sit on it for the moment.
~5:17pm
shall we talk about how i'm trying to be present and have fun and be supportive because a friend is in mourning and it's getting harder and harder to fake it because i am so fucking fed up with everything?
i'm not sure people really get how fucking difficult this shit is and it's sorta kinda my fault for not being able to verbalize how hard things are and it's not fair to expect everyone else to pick up on that shit, and yet...
i'm tired. i had the best of intentions and yet i am so fucking tired. how the fuck am i supposed to be the one who looks out for everyone else if i can't keep my shit together?
amazing how the folks who you would think would know better would be more in tune with what's going on, and yet it's the folks who have enough distance to be observant enough to check up on you like "hey, i know you're not ok, but i'm here if you need me." how does that even work?
how am i supposed to be about this empath life if it's talking all i have (and i really do mean ALL) to keep myself upright? how is this supposed to work? how am i supposed to keep moving forward when all i wanna do is fall down and give up?
how am i supposed to keep moving forward when all i wanna do is fall down and give up?
how am i supposed to keep moving forward when i swear on all things holy and slightly unholy that all i wanna do is fall down and give up?
i thought i was ready. i thought i was better. i thought i could power through this weekend and not fall apart, because other people wanted/needed me to have my shit together so i could be there for them. i'm not even sure how this is supposed to work anymore. i'm tired. i am so very tired. i'm not sure i have the words to articulate just how tired i am at the moment.
this has to stop. i know enough to know that i cannot function well like this. somehow, someway, i need to pull myself together, and not just at work, so i can get back to whatever quasi-normal i was at before, say, last saturday. i don't know how that's supposed to work and, if i'm honest with myself, i'm not entirely convinced i want it to work, but whatever.
this is all part of the work, right? pulling yourself to the side to fall apart because god forbid anyone see your moment of weakness - or better still, they don't see it and you're just like "really? how'd you miss that?" but you can't get mad about it because this is your job. you're the strong one. you're the one who holds everyone else up and when people do bother to inquire about you, it's always in public and therefore you smile and nod like everything is beautiful even though you can feel yourself shattering on the inside, because what else are you gonna do?
i've apologized via email to the friends who got caught up in last sunday's madness. attempting to grin and bear it when they knew good and damn well i wasn't ok wasn't fair to them, and lying and saying i was fine when i clearly wasn't definitely wasn't fair. i fucked that all the way up. if you're reading this, let me apologize again. i'm sorry. i am really and truly sorry.
another theme this year, along with meeting and leaving people where they are, is owning up to your shit. taking ownership of your good, bad, ugly, mediocre, brilliant, nonsensical, whatever moments. being mature enough to say "yeah, that's on me" even when there's no benefit to doing so. faults and all. flaws and all. fuck-ups and all. it's all part of the work, i think.
and yeah, it would've been easy for me to leave all that stuff in my notebook and not share it, but there's a part of me that truly believes that someone out there might be battling through similar shit and their path and pain might be eased a bit by knowing they're not alone in this. i might be wrong, but i'm going with it for now.
have i mentioned how much i love just going with things and not having at least a partial plan of attack? my type a-minus personality is having a fucking field day with this shit. :P
so, um, it's been an eventful two weeks or so over here, to say the least. thanks to everyone who reached out and checked up, and also thanks to those who expressed their support by keeping a distance because they know that's how we roll. i love y'all for it and i am thankful.
i don't know what's next. i am trying my damnedest to be ok with not knowing what's next, but my type a-minus personality is getting in my way. y'all know i need some semblance of order in at least some areas of my life, and the past couple of weeks have been anything but orderly or ordinary.
(if you have no idea what the hell i'm talking about when i refer to the events of two weeks ago, please go read this and then come back.)
as i was saying, the past 2 weeks have been a whirlwind and i don't really know what's next and i'm trying to be ok with the not knowing.
i'm trying to be ok, period. some days are easier than others. i thought i was doing ok last sunday, but as you'll see below from the stuff i scribbled throughout the day, i wasn't fully back to myself.
note that i'm italicizing last week's scribbles as a way of marking them as separate from this main entry.
10-25 1:51pm
writing for when you look down at your wrists a week after your first suicidal episode in more than 20 years and you think maybe you should get matching tattoos on both wrists because then you won't be as likely to slit your wrists.
yes, this is my life right now. at least i'm still around to write about it, right? right.
~5:10pm
writing for when you play carl thomas' "emotional" at the bar and your friends are excited but they don't really get how true and how real some of the lyrics are for you. you almost wanna say something, but it's kinda taking all you have to keep your facade going and therefore you just sit on it for the moment.
~5:17pm
shall we talk about how i'm trying to be present and have fun and be supportive because a friend is in mourning and it's getting harder and harder to fake it because i am so fucking fed up with everything?
i'm not sure people really get how fucking difficult this shit is and it's sorta kinda my fault for not being able to verbalize how hard things are and it's not fair to expect everyone else to pick up on that shit, and yet...
i'm tired. i had the best of intentions and yet i am so fucking tired. how the fuck am i supposed to be the one who looks out for everyone else if i can't keep my shit together?
amazing how the folks who you would think would know better would be more in tune with what's going on, and yet it's the folks who have enough distance to be observant enough to check up on you like "hey, i know you're not ok, but i'm here if you need me." how does that even work?
how am i supposed to be about this empath life if it's talking all i have (and i really do mean ALL) to keep myself upright? how is this supposed to work? how am i supposed to keep moving forward when all i wanna do is fall down and give up?
how am i supposed to keep moving forward when all i wanna do is fall down and give up?
how am i supposed to keep moving forward when i swear on all things holy and slightly unholy that all i wanna do is fall down and give up?
i thought i was ready. i thought i was better. i thought i could power through this weekend and not fall apart, because other people wanted/needed me to have my shit together so i could be there for them. i'm not even sure how this is supposed to work anymore. i'm tired. i am so very tired. i'm not sure i have the words to articulate just how tired i am at the moment.
this has to stop. i know enough to know that i cannot function well like this. somehow, someway, i need to pull myself together, and not just at work, so i can get back to whatever quasi-normal i was at before, say, last saturday. i don't know how that's supposed to work and, if i'm honest with myself, i'm not entirely convinced i want it to work, but whatever.
this is all part of the work, right? pulling yourself to the side to fall apart because god forbid anyone see your moment of weakness - or better still, they don't see it and you're just like "really? how'd you miss that?" but you can't get mad about it because this is your job. you're the strong one. you're the one who holds everyone else up and when people do bother to inquire about you, it's always in public and therefore you smile and nod like everything is beautiful even though you can feel yourself shattering on the inside, because what else are you gonna do?
i've apologized via email to the friends who got caught up in last sunday's madness. attempting to grin and bear it when they knew good and damn well i wasn't ok wasn't fair to them, and lying and saying i was fine when i clearly wasn't definitely wasn't fair. i fucked that all the way up. if you're reading this, let me apologize again. i'm sorry. i am really and truly sorry.
another theme this year, along with meeting and leaving people where they are, is owning up to your shit. taking ownership of your good, bad, ugly, mediocre, brilliant, nonsensical, whatever moments. being mature enough to say "yeah, that's on me" even when there's no benefit to doing so. faults and all. flaws and all. fuck-ups and all. it's all part of the work, i think.
and yeah, it would've been easy for me to leave all that stuff in my notebook and not share it, but there's a part of me that truly believes that someone out there might be battling through similar shit and their path and pain might be eased a bit by knowing they're not alone in this. i might be wrong, but i'm going with it for now.
have i mentioned how much i love just going with things and not having at least a partial plan of attack? my type a-minus personality is having a fucking field day with this shit. :P
Monday, October 26, 2015
and now, a selection from the poetry committee
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!
Monday, October 19, 2015
tired of being weak and sick of being strong
[TW: suicide]
saturday night was the first time i have seriously contemplated suicide in more than 20 years.
it started innocently enough. i'd booked a staycation weekend b/c i wanted a bit of a break from real life. i was having a drink in my hotel room, as one does on a saturday night while watching sports, and i felt my old friend anxiety trying to creep in.
"ok, fine," i said. "let's go ahead and have all of the anxiety. i don't have to worry about my right hand burning up with tension because i'm not typing anything and if i start shaking, no one's around to see it."
do you know how difficult it is to watch a hockey game while you're sobbing on the floor? i literally slid out of the chair and onto the floor at one point and when i tell you that this was a particularly ugly cry, please believe me. i cried so much that i was dehydrated and had to down half a bottle of water as soon as i was mobile again.
i got up, though, and i kept drinking (and hydrating) and watching sports, and i figured that mini-breakdown was the end of it. but it wasn't.
"remember me? i came to hang out with you on your 17th birthday! let's talk."
oh for fuck's sake i am not THAT drunk. go away.
"no, really! it's been decades! you're in a hotel room. who cares if housekeeping discovers your body on the floor or in the tub?"
are you serious? i think i have a couple of xanax and my migraine meds and maybe some other OTC meds and a bottle of whiskey. do you really think i'm gonna consume all those just so i can get my stomach pumped later? what sense does that make?
"what sense does it make continuing to fight a battle you're not sure you can win?"
......
"why are you still trying so hard? who really gives a good damn if you make it?"
.......
"see? you can't even answer me! i was right all those years ago, and i'm right now. break one of those glasses and cut your wrists."
yeah, no. i don't like the sight of blood and i'm not a big fan of pain.
"you sure you don't have any other pills with you? just take all of them and drink all of that whiskey and hey, do those windows open?"
i'm on the 3rd floor.
"ok, so take the pills and drink the booze and jump anyway and sit outside and freeze until someone finds you later."
i...i don't think i want to do that.
"who's gonna notice? have you really left that large of a legacy to think you're important enough to be missed?"
..........
"no one cares. no one cared about your poor motherless child shtick when you were 17, and you've said yourself that your current path is difficult and adulting is bullshit."
yes, those are things i have said, but...
"no buts! do it!"
no.
"i'm sorry, what did you say?"
no. i am unsober and therefore i am susceptible to making poor decisions but i'm not that far gone. no.
"you sure? you really think people are gonna care enough to keep you around?"
yeah. yeah, i do. now go away and let me finish my drink in relative peace.
that was part one. after hockey was over and i went out for a greasy dinner because i knew i needed something to soak up all of that booze, i eventually went to bed.
_____________________________________________________
1:30am.
hm. a little early for a panic attack, but i did pass out before midnight and therefore the timing might be a bit off.
oh, this is one of those panic attacks where i can't stop crying. ok.
no, wait, i have to start pacing around the room while i'm crying. can i sit down now? it's kinda hard to remain upright when i'm crying so hard i can barely see straight.
dammit, panic-induced nausea, who invited you? good thing this bathroom floor is nice and cool. i'll just curl up here for a moment until i can stop crying and my stomach feels like it's done contributing to this panic attack party.
ok. gonna drink some water and some ginger ale (way to be prepared, past me) and go back to bed.
"o hai!"
fuck me running. it's *squints at clock* 3am. are we really doing this right now?
"yup! who cares if you wake up crying in the middle of the night on a regular basis? you know there's a way to end this once and for all."
didn't i say earlier that i wasn't ready to give up yet?
"yeah, yeah, that's what they all say, until they see things my way and give in. you're just like them."
no. i am many things and i am very vulnerable at this point, but i am not just like them.
"sure you are. why else would i be here?"
...........
"gotcha! now go grab those pills and let's party."
no.
"DO IT!"
no. i am going back to bed and i will eventually fall asleep once my heart stops racing and i will get up in the morning and go to brunch and continue to live my life.
"you're faking it, you know. you're not really happy."
of course i'm not really happy. that's not news.
"you wouldn't have to worry about this shit if you were dead."
this is a valid point, but i'm not quite ready to concede the battle just yet.
"ok, if you say so..."
i do. please leave. it's late and i'm sober and exhausted and i would like to get some sleep now.
_____________________________________________________
at some point, i did manage to get some sleep, and i did get up the next morning and go to brunch, and i am continuing to live my life, as evidenced by the fact that i am able to share this with you right now.
the title of this post came to me earlier on saturday before the anxiety really kicked in. it's true for so many of us, i think - that we're tired of being weak and sick of being strong. i can only speak for me when i say that somehow, i just find a way to keep going. that's what i did on my 17th birthday. that's what i did on saturday. hopefully that's what i'll continue to do.
saturday night was the first time i have seriously contemplated suicide in more than 20 years.
it started innocently enough. i'd booked a staycation weekend b/c i wanted a bit of a break from real life. i was having a drink in my hotel room, as one does on a saturday night while watching sports, and i felt my old friend anxiety trying to creep in.
"ok, fine," i said. "let's go ahead and have all of the anxiety. i don't have to worry about my right hand burning up with tension because i'm not typing anything and if i start shaking, no one's around to see it."
do you know how difficult it is to watch a hockey game while you're sobbing on the floor? i literally slid out of the chair and onto the floor at one point and when i tell you that this was a particularly ugly cry, please believe me. i cried so much that i was dehydrated and had to down half a bottle of water as soon as i was mobile again.
i got up, though, and i kept drinking (and hydrating) and watching sports, and i figured that mini-breakdown was the end of it. but it wasn't.
"remember me? i came to hang out with you on your 17th birthday! let's talk."
oh for fuck's sake i am not THAT drunk. go away.
"no, really! it's been decades! you're in a hotel room. who cares if housekeeping discovers your body on the floor or in the tub?"
are you serious? i think i have a couple of xanax and my migraine meds and maybe some other OTC meds and a bottle of whiskey. do you really think i'm gonna consume all those just so i can get my stomach pumped later? what sense does that make?
"what sense does it make continuing to fight a battle you're not sure you can win?"
......
"why are you still trying so hard? who really gives a good damn if you make it?"
.......
"see? you can't even answer me! i was right all those years ago, and i'm right now. break one of those glasses and cut your wrists."
yeah, no. i don't like the sight of blood and i'm not a big fan of pain.
"you sure you don't have any other pills with you? just take all of them and drink all of that whiskey and hey, do those windows open?"
i'm on the 3rd floor.
"ok, so take the pills and drink the booze and jump anyway and sit outside and freeze until someone finds you later."
i...i don't think i want to do that.
"who's gonna notice? have you really left that large of a legacy to think you're important enough to be missed?"
..........
"no one cares. no one cared about your poor motherless child shtick when you were 17, and you've said yourself that your current path is difficult and adulting is bullshit."
yes, those are things i have said, but...
"no buts! do it!"
no.
"i'm sorry, what did you say?"
no. i am unsober and therefore i am susceptible to making poor decisions but i'm not that far gone. no.
"you sure? you really think people are gonna care enough to keep you around?"
yeah. yeah, i do. now go away and let me finish my drink in relative peace.
that was part one. after hockey was over and i went out for a greasy dinner because i knew i needed something to soak up all of that booze, i eventually went to bed.
_____________________________________________________
1:30am.
hm. a little early for a panic attack, but i did pass out before midnight and therefore the timing might be a bit off.
oh, this is one of those panic attacks where i can't stop crying. ok.
no, wait, i have to start pacing around the room while i'm crying. can i sit down now? it's kinda hard to remain upright when i'm crying so hard i can barely see straight.
dammit, panic-induced nausea, who invited you? good thing this bathroom floor is nice and cool. i'll just curl up here for a moment until i can stop crying and my stomach feels like it's done contributing to this panic attack party.
ok. gonna drink some water and some ginger ale (way to be prepared, past me) and go back to bed.
"o hai!"
fuck me running. it's *squints at clock* 3am. are we really doing this right now?
"yup! who cares if you wake up crying in the middle of the night on a regular basis? you know there's a way to end this once and for all."
didn't i say earlier that i wasn't ready to give up yet?
"yeah, yeah, that's what they all say, until they see things my way and give in. you're just like them."
no. i am many things and i am very vulnerable at this point, but i am not just like them.
"sure you are. why else would i be here?"
...........
"gotcha! now go grab those pills and let's party."
no.
"DO IT!"
no. i am going back to bed and i will eventually fall asleep once my heart stops racing and i will get up in the morning and go to brunch and continue to live my life.
"you're faking it, you know. you're not really happy."
of course i'm not really happy. that's not news.
"you wouldn't have to worry about this shit if you were dead."
this is a valid point, but i'm not quite ready to concede the battle just yet.
"ok, if you say so..."
i do. please leave. it's late and i'm sober and exhausted and i would like to get some sleep now.
_____________________________________________________
at some point, i did manage to get some sleep, and i did get up the next morning and go to brunch, and i am continuing to live my life, as evidenced by the fact that i am able to share this with you right now.
the title of this post came to me earlier on saturday before the anxiety really kicked in. it's true for so many of us, i think - that we're tired of being weak and sick of being strong. i can only speak for me when i say that somehow, i just find a way to keep going. that's what i did on my 17th birthday. that's what i did on saturday. hopefully that's what i'll continue to do.
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
confessions of a recovering gladiator
hi.
my name is eulalia, and i am a recovering gladiator.
the new season of "scandal" starts tomorrow and i'm having difficulty getting excited about it. i will more than likely watch the premiere, but it won't be necessarily be appointment television with me glued to the couch for the whole hour and live-tweeting the whole thing. i'm sure there are a number of you who will be greatly relieved by this news, especially if you've followed me on twitter during previous seasons of "scandal" and have seen just how active my feed can be for that hour and some change each week.
i've been trying to figure out the rationale for my decline in devotion, aside from the shark jumpage (if you're a fan and you watched last season, especially the finale, then you're probably nodding your head in agreement right now), and it occurred to me that it's easier for me to let go of "scandal" now than it would have been when the show first started.
"scandal" premiered during my quasi-nanny days in deerfield. i would record each week's episode and then watch it friday morning, usually while the twins were napping. i'd live-tweet in the sense of posting my reactions as i was watching each episode the day after. twitter was a huge lifeline for me in those days because it was a great way to stay connected with people and it didn't require a huge amount of thought, which worked because, as a lot of you may remember, i had a lot of shit going on back then.
when i started moving closer, and finally returned to the city, my obsession with "scandal" continued. in hindsight, i think the show was/is a great escape route. it's soapy and cheesy and just provocative enough to keep gladiators like me tuned in every week. it really was appointment television for me. any number of y'all can attest to the fact that i would arrange my schedule to make sure i was in front of a tv with my laptop and/or, once i finally got a smartphone, my phone, ready to tweet along with the cast and my fellow gladiators.
this upcoming season, though? i don't know. enough has changed in my life, the return to full-time employment being a large part of it, that i'm not sure i need that weekly escapism as much. i'm on twitter as much as i ever was, i think, but it's not coming from a sense of "omfg my life is in shambles and tweeting with y'all is the only thing that makes any sense right now" as it was a few years ago. i'm still stressed out about any number of things, but knowing that i have a steady paycheck and am slowly saving enough to move back out on my own is so wonderfully fantastic. i can go out for drinks or a impromptu dinner (as i've done twice this week already) and not panic about where the money is coming from or how my phone bill's gonna get paid and will i have enough money to get back and forth to work. these are blessings and i am grateful for all of them.
the fact that this new chapter of my life, unfinished as it is, coincides with the return of "scandal" is really nothing more than that - a coincidence. i just think it's interesting how a show, and how i interacted with that show, kept me going for so long. i think it's great that i feel like i'm in a place where i don't need that crutch as much as i once did. i won't go so far as to say that "scandal" is now just another tv show for me, but i can say that for this coming season, i'm more interested in the plot twists in my own life than in the ones on screen for that hour on thursday nights. i'm sure wine and popcorn, or some sort of booze and snacks, will still be involved somehow.
my name is eulalia, and i am a recovering gladiator.
the new season of "scandal" starts tomorrow and i'm having difficulty getting excited about it. i will more than likely watch the premiere, but it won't be necessarily be appointment television with me glued to the couch for the whole hour and live-tweeting the whole thing. i'm sure there are a number of you who will be greatly relieved by this news, especially if you've followed me on twitter during previous seasons of "scandal" and have seen just how active my feed can be for that hour and some change each week.
i've been trying to figure out the rationale for my decline in devotion, aside from the shark jumpage (if you're a fan and you watched last season, especially the finale, then you're probably nodding your head in agreement right now), and it occurred to me that it's easier for me to let go of "scandal" now than it would have been when the show first started.
"scandal" premiered during my quasi-nanny days in deerfield. i would record each week's episode and then watch it friday morning, usually while the twins were napping. i'd live-tweet in the sense of posting my reactions as i was watching each episode the day after. twitter was a huge lifeline for me in those days because it was a great way to stay connected with people and it didn't require a huge amount of thought, which worked because, as a lot of you may remember, i had a lot of shit going on back then.
when i started moving closer, and finally returned to the city, my obsession with "scandal" continued. in hindsight, i think the show was/is a great escape route. it's soapy and cheesy and just provocative enough to keep gladiators like me tuned in every week. it really was appointment television for me. any number of y'all can attest to the fact that i would arrange my schedule to make sure i was in front of a tv with my laptop and/or, once i finally got a smartphone, my phone, ready to tweet along with the cast and my fellow gladiators.
this upcoming season, though? i don't know. enough has changed in my life, the return to full-time employment being a large part of it, that i'm not sure i need that weekly escapism as much. i'm on twitter as much as i ever was, i think, but it's not coming from a sense of "omfg my life is in shambles and tweeting with y'all is the only thing that makes any sense right now" as it was a few years ago. i'm still stressed out about any number of things, but knowing that i have a steady paycheck and am slowly saving enough to move back out on my own is so wonderfully fantastic. i can go out for drinks or a impromptu dinner (as i've done twice this week already) and not panic about where the money is coming from or how my phone bill's gonna get paid and will i have enough money to get back and forth to work. these are blessings and i am grateful for all of them.
the fact that this new chapter of my life, unfinished as it is, coincides with the return of "scandal" is really nothing more than that - a coincidence. i just think it's interesting how a show, and how i interacted with that show, kept me going for so long. i think it's great that i feel like i'm in a place where i don't need that crutch as much as i once did. i won't go so far as to say that "scandal" is now just another tv show for me, but i can say that for this coming season, i'm more interested in the plot twists in my own life than in the ones on screen for that hour on thursday nights. i'm sure wine and popcorn, or some sort of booze and snacks, will still be involved somehow.
Thursday, September 17, 2015
grasping at and catching dreams
[TW: sexual abuse/assault/misconduct]
i saw a movie called "dreamcatcher." it knocked me for more of a loop than i expected. yes, i bought a ticket for this knowing that it would probably make me cry. and it did. what i didn't expect was to be transported back to the young girl i was, trying to make sense of things. i cried for the girls and women in the film, and i cried for myself, and i cried for so many other countless women and girls. it was actually kind of a combination cry, because i didn't completely lose my composure.
i sat there in the theater, seeing these women and girls in and around the city that i love (yes, we're talking about chicago), who'd gone through so much and still had so much to endure and i couldn't help but wonder about how the hell did i get so lucky? ok, maybe "lucky" isn't the best term, but let's go with it for now. bad things happened to me and, by most societal measures, i made it out ok. i graduated high school, picked up a degree or 3, i don't have any kids...all the check boxes are filled, y'know?
but what the fuck makes me so different from the women in the movie? how'd i make it through and they didn't or at least haven't made it yet? i couldn't piece it together. i'm still puzzling through it, to be honest. i may never figure it out and i'm trying to be ok with it. but, oh, i empathized with these women and girls, y'all. and when brenda, the subject of this documentary, admitted to having a few days during which she wasn't sure how to keep functioning and doing the work? that's a paraphrase, but damn if i didn't identify and start crying along with her and a couple other people in the theater.
i made a donation to the dreamcatcher foundation this week. that's how much the movie affected me. "dreamcatcher" is amazing, if a bit triggering, and if you're able to watch it if/when it comes to a theater near you, please do so. i'll pass you some kleenex. i was so keyed up after the movie that i didn't feel like i could go straight home, so i stopped at the bar and had a few drinks and caught up with a few friends. that's another post, though, about the whole not feeling like i can go home thing.
i went to the movies again last night. i'd missed previous screenings of "amy" around the city so i made sure to put this on my calendar and buy a ticket. i'm so glad i did, even though i spent half the movie just saying "oh, amy" to myself over and over. so many people failed amy throughout her life, and i'm glad the movie didn't gloss over it.
this is what i've been pondering since friday and again since last night. how is it that so many of us manage to grasp at and eventually catch our dreams, and so many more people are still trying to become mobile enough to even grasp at their dreams, let alone figure out how to catch at least one of them? it doesn't seem fair and yet i know this is how the world works, and so i am trying not to over-think it, but i guess that's part of this whole empath/caregiver thing - pondering the how/why of things are fucked up even while you're trying to do your best to make things even just a little bit better.
it's like i keep reminding myself - it's ok not to have all of the answers because i damn sure don't have all of the questions. just keep doing the work. keep pushing forward. it's not as easy as it sounds, trust me, but sometimes it's all we can do.
Saturday, August 22, 2015
recipe review: shrimp and broccoli rotini
sometimes i'll come across a recipe and i'll put it to the side to make eventually. this shrimp and broccoli rotini recipe was one i'd knew i'd be making sooner rather than later, especially since i had everything on hand except the shrimp. when quasi-landlord mentioned that she'd seen shrimp on sale at mariano's this week, it was time.
i used whole wheat fusilli instead of rotini b/c that's what was on hand. same goes for using frozen broccoli (shoutout to those giant bags of frozen broccoli at costco). the shrimp were 31-40 count and i wasn't motivated enough to take the tails off before making the dish. i used the zest and the juice of a whole lemon because lemon and shrimp and broccoli are awesome. i also added a clove of crushed garlic because garlic is also awesome and there wasn't any in this recipe which had to be an oversight. salt & pepper to taste, and even though i made this after lunch and therefore i'm not even remotely hungry right now, i had to take a couple bites. nom. would make again. would possibly add some white wine because that seems like something that would be delicious.
i used whole wheat fusilli instead of rotini b/c that's what was on hand. same goes for using frozen broccoli (shoutout to those giant bags of frozen broccoli at costco). the shrimp were 31-40 count and i wasn't motivated enough to take the tails off before making the dish. i used the zest and the juice of a whole lemon because lemon and shrimp and broccoli are awesome. i also added a clove of crushed garlic because garlic is also awesome and there wasn't any in this recipe which had to be an oversight. salt & pepper to taste, and even though i made this after lunch and therefore i'm not even remotely hungry right now, i had to take a couple bites. nom. would make again. would possibly add some white wine because that seems like something that would be delicious.
Monday, August 10, 2015
unhappy birthdays
lori would have been 54 on tuesday. james would have been 53 on wednesday. this is the first year without both of them around. that realization hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks this weekend, and i've been reeling ever since.
as accustomed as i am to dealing with the death of loved ones, i am still a bit angry over losing two of my favorite family members. lori wasn't technically family, in the sense that we shared no blood relations (that any of us knew about, anyway), but i claimed her like she was mine and she definitely claimed my family like it was hers.
every summer, lori would start in on what she wanted for her birthday. she'd remind us that her birthday was the day before james' and therefore we had no excuse for forgetting it.
y'all know me. i forgot it on a regular basis and she loved me anyway.
i didn't call them nearly as often i as probably should have, but james and lori loved me anyway. flaws and all, faults and all, fuckups and all.
their faith and their grace astonish me to this day. they loved god and while james wasn't as demonstrative as lori was about it, you knew. it wasn't a secret. it was nice to have that balance, actually, between auntie lori catching the holy ghost, complete with what i like to call "praise giggles," and "uncle" james, posted up somewhere quietly, at least by comparison, acknowledging his blessings.
their grace in how they dealt with their illnesses. how they never lost faith. how they inspired, and continue to inspire, so many of us to keep going. this is not to say that they didn't suffer, because they did. that they didn't complain, because they did. there was occasional wallowing because they were human and they were hurting and they were strong enough to admit when they were feeling weak.
i didn't visit james and lori nearly as much as i should have during their multiple hospital stays. they knew me and my hangups about hospitals and loved me anyway, even as i kept my distance.
james died 6 years ago and there are times when the pain is still as fresh as it was when i first found out. lori's death is only 6 months old and i still had her phone numbers in my phone until maybe a month or so ago.
it really, really sucks that they're not around anymore and, as you may have guessed, i am not dealing well with these birthdays this year. i am angry and confused and stressed about so many things and knowing that lori and james aren't around, even it i wasn't actively reaching out to them in that moment, really fucking sucks.
you see why i'm trying to aspire to their levels of grace and faith? life is really fucking difficult and while i am thankful to have james & lori as examples to look up to, i would much rather have them here. i know i'm lucky to have had such wonderful people in my life. it's just that sometimes, like this week, i wish that they'd gotten to stick around a little bit longer.
instead, i will keep working on developing and strengthening the crazy faith i need to deal with the lack of serenity that is my life. my brother is with me wherever i go, since it's his chain that i wear around my neck. lori's never far away, because i swear her spirit is just that big and, if i listen close enough, i can hear her laughing and talking shit and praising god all without missing a beat.
god, grant me the grace and wisdom to keep working on the crazy faith i need to confront the lack of serenity. may it be enough. amen.
as accustomed as i am to dealing with the death of loved ones, i am still a bit angry over losing two of my favorite family members. lori wasn't technically family, in the sense that we shared no blood relations (that any of us knew about, anyway), but i claimed her like she was mine and she definitely claimed my family like it was hers.
every summer, lori would start in on what she wanted for her birthday. she'd remind us that her birthday was the day before james' and therefore we had no excuse for forgetting it.
y'all know me. i forgot it on a regular basis and she loved me anyway.
i didn't call them nearly as often i as probably should have, but james and lori loved me anyway. flaws and all, faults and all, fuckups and all.
their faith and their grace astonish me to this day. they loved god and while james wasn't as demonstrative as lori was about it, you knew. it wasn't a secret. it was nice to have that balance, actually, between auntie lori catching the holy ghost, complete with what i like to call "praise giggles," and "uncle" james, posted up somewhere quietly, at least by comparison, acknowledging his blessings.
their grace in how they dealt with their illnesses. how they never lost faith. how they inspired, and continue to inspire, so many of us to keep going. this is not to say that they didn't suffer, because they did. that they didn't complain, because they did. there was occasional wallowing because they were human and they were hurting and they were strong enough to admit when they were feeling weak.
i didn't visit james and lori nearly as much as i should have during their multiple hospital stays. they knew me and my hangups about hospitals and loved me anyway, even as i kept my distance.
james died 6 years ago and there are times when the pain is still as fresh as it was when i first found out. lori's death is only 6 months old and i still had her phone numbers in my phone until maybe a month or so ago.
it really, really sucks that they're not around anymore and, as you may have guessed, i am not dealing well with these birthdays this year. i am angry and confused and stressed about so many things and knowing that lori and james aren't around, even it i wasn't actively reaching out to them in that moment, really fucking sucks.
you see why i'm trying to aspire to their levels of grace and faith? life is really fucking difficult and while i am thankful to have james & lori as examples to look up to, i would much rather have them here. i know i'm lucky to have had such wonderful people in my life. it's just that sometimes, like this week, i wish that they'd gotten to stick around a little bit longer.
instead, i will keep working on developing and strengthening the crazy faith i need to deal with the lack of serenity that is my life. my brother is with me wherever i go, since it's his chain that i wear around my neck. lori's never far away, because i swear her spirit is just that big and, if i listen close enough, i can hear her laughing and talking shit and praising god all without missing a beat.
god, grant me the grace and wisdom to keep working on the crazy faith i need to confront the lack of serenity. may it be enough. amen.
Friday, August 07, 2015
friends in low places, high places, and everywhere in between
funny how the universe works sometimes. i wrote that last post a couple of weeks ago and i swear that for almost every single day since then, i have have some sort of positive interaction with a friend of mine, whether in person or online or via text. if i was so inclined, i could sit here and look at my calendar from the past 2 weeks or so and point to each day and say "here's when i ran into so-and-so," or "i hung out with such-and-such," or "person xyz emailed or texted me and it made me smile."
my heart gets so damn full when things like that happen, and i try to use that as motivation to keep going. not gonna lie, though - i am tired. like right now, as i type this, i am waiting for the rest of my laundry to finish so i can fold it and put it away and then go the fuck to sleep for as long as i am able.
this is all part of the work. i swear i say that out loud to myself at least once a week. it's nice to be able to see the good in the midst of the madness, though. y'all keep me going in ways i can't articulate right now because did i mention that i'm fucking exhausted?
y'all be good.
Monday, July 27, 2015
trying to find the magic in survival
[TW: sexual misconduct/abuse]
as some long time readers may remember from the start of this blog, i was molested by a family friend when i was 8 years old. i still can't do splits. i repressed it until i was about 15 or 16 and i'm not entirely convinced that the family member i told believed me. if memory serves, i found out that the family friend in question had long disappeared or was dead or something...basically he wouldn't be a factor and life could go on.
and it did, to a certain extent. my cousin's husband thought it'd be a brilliant idea to show me a porn movie at the end of one of our movie nights. i was 16. somehow we went from watching "single white female" to porn to my cousin's husband exposing himself to me locking myself in the bathroom until my younger cousins (his sons) were all ready to go to bed and then locking myself in the bedroom. i still have difficulty watching certain pornography because it brings me back to that helpless teenage me who knew enough to know that something wasn't right but didn't have the agency or the voice to speak up.
i never told anyone in my family about my cousin's husband. i knew enough to know that my father and/or one of my brothers wound end up in jail for avenging my honor and i knew that my cousin's husband worked in law enforcement and had connections that i couldn't begin to fathom and i didn't want to break my cousin's heart b/c she was my favorite cousin by a landslide and i also knew that i had to stop visiting them which broke my heart b/c she really was my favorite cousin and i looked forward to those summers and random weekends where we got to hang out.
i am saying all of this to say that the #theemptychair hashtag on twitter, along with the cover of new york magazine depicting some of the women victimized by bill cosby, was a punch to the gut and this all came back. i am lucky in that i had partners who helped me work through my guilt and angst when i first became sexually active. i am lucky that i have had the opportunity to recognize and deal with those feelings of guilt and angst and disbelief and, gods be praised, came out stronger for it.
the decision to write about this tonight was not an easy one. i wrestled with it during my ride home because, for reasons that should be obvious, i don't necessarily like revisiting these things. i would journal about it, i reasoned. if it was on my mind that much then i could just scribble a few lines in my journal and be done with it.
all i kept hearing was "this is all part of the work." it finally occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, telling my story and recognizing the privilege inherent in being able to tell my story, would be my way of honoring those people who are sitting in that empty chair. this would be part of the work of meeting people where they are and telling them that they are still more than enough, regardless of the pain that's been inflicted on them. this would be part of the work of reminding myself that yes, i am still more than enough regardless of the pain. a reminder this work is not in vain. an opportunity for me to see that it is still possible to be a magical black girl in a world that, i swear, seems hellbent on denying my humanity. a chance for any and everyone else who has a similar story that maybe they cannot or will not tell to see that they are not alone. that they are not the only ones represented by that empty chair. you are seen and you are heard and you are loved and you are more than enough.
let me say that again.
you are seen and you are heard and you are loved and you are more than enough.
amen.
as some long time readers may remember from the start of this blog, i was molested by a family friend when i was 8 years old. i still can't do splits. i repressed it until i was about 15 or 16 and i'm not entirely convinced that the family member i told believed me. if memory serves, i found out that the family friend in question had long disappeared or was dead or something...basically he wouldn't be a factor and life could go on.
and it did, to a certain extent. my cousin's husband thought it'd be a brilliant idea to show me a porn movie at the end of one of our movie nights. i was 16. somehow we went from watching "single white female" to porn to my cousin's husband exposing himself to me locking myself in the bathroom until my younger cousins (his sons) were all ready to go to bed and then locking myself in the bedroom. i still have difficulty watching certain pornography because it brings me back to that helpless teenage me who knew enough to know that something wasn't right but didn't have the agency or the voice to speak up.
i never told anyone in my family about my cousin's husband. i knew enough to know that my father and/or one of my brothers wound end up in jail for avenging my honor and i knew that my cousin's husband worked in law enforcement and had connections that i couldn't begin to fathom and i didn't want to break my cousin's heart b/c she was my favorite cousin by a landslide and i also knew that i had to stop visiting them which broke my heart b/c she really was my favorite cousin and i looked forward to those summers and random weekends where we got to hang out.
i am saying all of this to say that the #theemptychair hashtag on twitter, along with the cover of new york magazine depicting some of the women victimized by bill cosby, was a punch to the gut and this all came back. i am lucky in that i had partners who helped me work through my guilt and angst when i first became sexually active. i am lucky that i have had the opportunity to recognize and deal with those feelings of guilt and angst and disbelief and, gods be praised, came out stronger for it.
the decision to write about this tonight was not an easy one. i wrestled with it during my ride home because, for reasons that should be obvious, i don't necessarily like revisiting these things. i would journal about it, i reasoned. if it was on my mind that much then i could just scribble a few lines in my journal and be done with it.
all i kept hearing was "this is all part of the work." it finally occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, telling my story and recognizing the privilege inherent in being able to tell my story, would be my way of honoring those people who are sitting in that empty chair. this would be part of the work of meeting people where they are and telling them that they are still more than enough, regardless of the pain that's been inflicted on them. this would be part of the work of reminding myself that yes, i am still more than enough regardless of the pain. a reminder this work is not in vain. an opportunity for me to see that it is still possible to be a magical black girl in a world that, i swear, seems hellbent on denying my humanity. a chance for any and everyone else who has a similar story that maybe they cannot or will not tell to see that they are not alone. that they are not the only ones represented by that empty chair. you are seen and you are heard and you are loved and you are more than enough.
let me say that again.
you are seen and you are heard and you are loved and you are more than enough.
amen.
Monday, July 13, 2015
on: attempting to keep up the (good) work
PARTY TIP: True inner strength is not seeing any realistic way you're going to make it, but still knowing somehow... you will.
— ANDREW W.K. (@AndrewWK) July 13, 2015
if you follow me on twitter, then you already know that i retweet andrew w.k. at least once a week. this one particularly resonated with me because i've been mulling over the phrase "this is all part of the work" since yesterday. the phrase came to me while i was reading elizabeth alexander's "the light of the world" and having my heart broken into tiny pieces and yet feeling like she'd been spying on my life. i tweeted a few things from the book while i was reading, and then i had to jot down "this is all part of the work" and let it sit for a bit.
"if i cannot take a walk with you and talk my way to the other side of the dilemma, i am not enacting friendship." © @ProfessorEA
— eulalia (@queeneulalia) July 12, 2015
that's part of the work, i think - being able to walk with someone and talk our way through whatever's on our minds, or at least enjoying the silence while we're on our journey.meeting people where they are and occasionally leaving them there, as i've been trying to be more conscious of this year, is part of the work.
meeting myself wherever i am and accepting myself flaws and all? part of the work.
i've said more than once that this empath/caregiver role is not an easy one for me, and yet i have to admit that the more i accept this path, the better i feel. i was at a friend's birthday gathering last weekend and she asked us all to check-in with how we were feeling physically, spiritually, emotionally, and intellectually. i said that spiritually, i was feeling as strong as i'd felt in a long while, and that i was sure it had something to do with no longer denying this caregiver position i'm attempting to play out. emotionally, though? i was wiped out. so many of us (self included) are going through so many things in our own lives, not to mention being impacted by events far and wide and closer to home and everywhere in between, and there were definitely moments where i had just had to retreat for a bit so i could try to get my shit together before being able to reach out to others.
this is all part of the work.
Thursday, June 25, 2015
i wish you happy (hockey) feelings
it's no secret that i distinctly remember where i was when the blackhawks won the stanley cup in 2010, b/c that was the night troy & i decided to call it quits. we all know my memory can be shitty, but even i can recall that with little to no effort.
and then there was 2013. i definitely remember that one, despite my levels of unsobriety, b/c having the cup back in chicago that year meant so much to me during this whole divorce/eviction/couch-surfing/un(der)employment/what the fuck is happening to my life phase that i've been in.
and now 2015. omg you guys. i had to work during game 6 and as soon as i was able, i was on the train to meet my friends at the bar while listening to the radio feed on my blackhawks app and keeping an eye on twitter and it is entirely possible that i started crying on the train when i realized the cup was once again coming back to chicago. a friend and i had both said in october that we wanted the cup back in our city. our reasons were varied, but the sentiment was the same.
cta wasn't playing nicely and i missed all of game 6. i finally got to the bar to celebrate with my friends only to realize that the bar was closing up and i couldn't have a celebratory beer until i got home, which i totally did, obviously, because beer is delicious and if i couldn't have one at the bar (they seriously wouldn't take my money. i tried!) that night, then bedtime beer it was going to be.
i drank and cried and tweeted and talked to my friend and we cried a little on the phone because we can be sappy like that and everything was wonderful.
not just because of hockey, though.
i gave my 2 weeks notice at the library the night the blackhawks won the cup. why did i do that?
because i got a new job.
a full-time job, even.
a full-time job in my field.
a full-time job in my field that is going to pay me more than i've previously made in my career to date.
i start july 1.
a few of you knew about this already and i appreciate y'all keeping the news tucked under your proverbial hats. now that all of the pre-employment stuff is done and i am in receipt of an email that basically says "hey, all that paperwork and testing is handled and you can officially start july 1," i can shout this from the rooftops.
holy fucking shit i start my new gig next week. my last day at the library is saturday. i am freaking the entire fuck out.
so...suffice it to say that i was crying that monday night for various reasons. i was happy because the cup was back in chicago and i was happy b/c i'd gotten a job that is totally going to challenge me and kick my ass and i might be getting teary just typing this.
i still haven't seen game 6 in its entirety, but damned if i didn't cry every time i saw a condensed replay. hell, i cried while watching the video they showed at the blackhawks' victory rally.
so many happy feelings, you guys. i am totally crying right now, btw. quasi-landlord almost made me cry the other day. "i am so proud of you. you never gave up. you kept putting yourself out there because you knew that something better was within your reach and you got it."
it is 2015 and the cup is once again back in chicago and i am still in chicago and i have a new job. this is most exhilarating.
thank you all for your unwavering support. it means so much more than i'm able to articulate right now. :-)
and then there was 2013. i definitely remember that one, despite my levels of unsobriety, b/c having the cup back in chicago that year meant so much to me during this whole divorce/eviction/couch-surfing/un(der)employment/what the fuck is happening to my life phase that i've been in.
and now 2015. omg you guys. i had to work during game 6 and as soon as i was able, i was on the train to meet my friends at the bar while listening to the radio feed on my blackhawks app and keeping an eye on twitter and it is entirely possible that i started crying on the train when i realized the cup was once again coming back to chicago. a friend and i had both said in october that we wanted the cup back in our city. our reasons were varied, but the sentiment was the same.
cta wasn't playing nicely and i missed all of game 6. i finally got to the bar to celebrate with my friends only to realize that the bar was closing up and i couldn't have a celebratory beer until i got home, which i totally did, obviously, because beer is delicious and if i couldn't have one at the bar (they seriously wouldn't take my money. i tried!) that night, then bedtime beer it was going to be.
i drank and cried and tweeted and talked to my friend and we cried a little on the phone because we can be sappy like that and everything was wonderful.
not just because of hockey, though.
i gave my 2 weeks notice at the library the night the blackhawks won the cup. why did i do that?
because i got a new job.
a full-time job, even.
a full-time job in my field.
a full-time job in my field that is going to pay me more than i've previously made in my career to date.
i start july 1.
a few of you knew about this already and i appreciate y'all keeping the news tucked under your proverbial hats. now that all of the pre-employment stuff is done and i am in receipt of an email that basically says "hey, all that paperwork and testing is handled and you can officially start july 1," i can shout this from the rooftops.
holy fucking shit i start my new gig next week. my last day at the library is saturday. i am freaking the entire fuck out.
so...suffice it to say that i was crying that monday night for various reasons. i was happy because the cup was back in chicago and i was happy b/c i'd gotten a job that is totally going to challenge me and kick my ass and i might be getting teary just typing this.
i still haven't seen game 6 in its entirety, but damned if i didn't cry every time i saw a condensed replay. hell, i cried while watching the video they showed at the blackhawks' victory rally.
so many happy feelings, you guys. i am totally crying right now, btw. quasi-landlord almost made me cry the other day. "i am so proud of you. you never gave up. you kept putting yourself out there because you knew that something better was within your reach and you got it."
it is 2015 and the cup is once again back in chicago and i am still in chicago and i have a new job. this is most exhilarating.
thank you all for your unwavering support. it means so much more than i'm able to articulate right now. :-)
Friday, June 12, 2015
on: anita baker's "compositions" album
one of the problems* with being old is realizing that some of your favorite albums are officially old and you have that moment of disbelief b/c you'd swear up down and sideways that said album just came out yesterday. you also start thinking that you're not possibly old enough to have some of your favorite albums be old enough to warrant mentioning their anniversaries, but then you do the math and realize that yes, it really has been that long.
(*-obviously this is not an actual problem in real life, but you know what i mean.)
that was me today when i read that anita baker's "compositions" album is 25 years old. my memories of that album are so vivid that there's no way 25 years have passed.
1990. james was still living in daddy's basement. james bought "compositions" on cd and i promptly borrowed it. a lot. that cd wound up in my room at least once a week. i'm sure i made a copy of it on cassette, but i distinctly remember a few instances when james would come upstairs looking for his cd and i would just hand it over without a word.
1990. i was 13. what in god's name did i know about love and relationships and heartbreak? very little, and yet you couldn't tell me that anita baker wasn't singing about my life. even then, i identified with the song "fairy tales," and that identification only grew stronger as i got older.
if you would have told 13 y.o. me that in 25 years, i would still be listening to that album, i probably would've laughed at you. if you would've told past me that in 25 years, both daddy and james would be dead and all i'd have left were memories of me in my room listening to "compositions" over and over, i probably would have been horrified…but here we are.
earlier tonight, i listened to the album in its entirety for the first time in ages. it's still one of my favorites, albeit a sentimental one, and i almost felt like i was back in my room, stretched out on my bed, looking at all of the posters on my walls, and singing along with anita like my 13 year old life depended on it. i know james isn't posting up in my doorway looking for his cd, but i'd be a lying liar who lies if i said i didn't wish that would happen.
Thursday, June 11, 2015
recipe review: chicken with honey-beer sauce
i found this one in my files while digging through and/or organizing other recipes, and decided to keep it out since i'm always looking for new and interesting ways to cook chicken. quasi-landlord bought a shallot before she went on vacation and i had beer in the fridge, so i had everything i needed to make this for dinner tonight. well, except for the parsley, but i rarely use parsley anyway.
this is another recipe that didn't call for garlic, so i chopped up 2-3 small cloves of garlic and threw them in with the shallots. i used revolution brewing's fist city beer because i had a can of it in the fridge.
verdict: meh. it wasn't terrible, but i wouldn't go out of my way to make this again anytime soon. i kinda wish i'd made some mashed potatoes to go with the chicken and with the roasted carrots i made earlier. oh well. maybe next time i try this, i'll make mashed potatoes and it will be better b/c mashed potatoes make everything better.
this is another recipe that didn't call for garlic, so i chopped up 2-3 small cloves of garlic and threw them in with the shallots. i used revolution brewing's fist city beer because i had a can of it in the fridge.
verdict: meh. it wasn't terrible, but i wouldn't go out of my way to make this again anytime soon. i kinda wish i'd made some mashed potatoes to go with the chicken and with the roasted carrots i made earlier. oh well. maybe next time i try this, i'll make mashed potatoes and it will be better b/c mashed potatoes make everything better.
Tuesday, June 09, 2015
recipe review: sweet potato, sausage, and green pepper hash
part of my adulting while quasi-landlord is away is making sure i have food both to take with me to work and also to eat when i get home from work. so far i've been pretty good about meal prepping on my days off so i don't have to think too much about what's for lunch/dinner, or about what i'm gonna eat when i get home late from an evening of shenanigans.
that said, i figured i should also try out a new (to me) recipe or two while i'm home alone. this one seemed easy enough, plus the main ingredients are all things i enjoy.
i didn't make the fried eggs, though, b/c i'm not a fan of fried eggs. obviously you could make them if you wanted.
here's what else i did differently: i used 1 large sweet potato because that's what i had here. i also used about 8-10 ounces of turkey italian sausage because that was in the freezer. i used a green bell pepper instead of an anaheim pepper because we all know my tolerance for spicy food isn't that great. i bought a 10 ounce bag of spinach, and i added a 1/2 teaspoon of garlic powder when i put in the cumin because garlic makes everything better.
result? nom. would make and eat again. you might want your sweet potatoes to cook a little longer, depending on how soft or firm you like them. if you're using a different type of sausage, you may want/need to add seasoning as you see fit.
that said, i figured i should also try out a new (to me) recipe or two while i'm home alone. this one seemed easy enough, plus the main ingredients are all things i enjoy.
i didn't make the fried eggs, though, b/c i'm not a fan of fried eggs. obviously you could make them if you wanted.
here's what else i did differently: i used 1 large sweet potato because that's what i had here. i also used about 8-10 ounces of turkey italian sausage because that was in the freezer. i used a green bell pepper instead of an anaheim pepper because we all know my tolerance for spicy food isn't that great. i bought a 10 ounce bag of spinach, and i added a 1/2 teaspoon of garlic powder when i put in the cumin because garlic makes everything better.
result? nom. would make and eat again. you might want your sweet potatoes to cook a little longer, depending on how soft or firm you like them. if you're using a different type of sausage, you may want/need to add seasoning as you see fit.
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
beware the gratitude police
i tweeted earlier this morning about not wanting to go back to work today. it's true - i've been off since last wednesday and there's been enough insanity going on at work that i really don't want this break to end. i also mentioned that yes, i know, i should be thankful to even have a job, etc. that doesn't mean i have to like everything about it.
that was a preemptive strike against what i'll call the "gratitude police." you know them. they're the ones who always have something to say whenever you're even remotely negative about something. "ugh, i have to go to work." "you should be glad you have a job!" "dammit, i need to clean the house/car/garage/whatever." "don't you know how lucky you are to even have a house/car/garage/whatever?"
for me, the annoying thing about that is yes, i actually do know how lucky i am. anyone who's been paying attention to my life during the past 4-5 years knows that i will readily cop to being thankful/grateful for where things are vs. where they could have been. that doesn't mean i can't complain or whine about it. pretty sure there's no hard and fast rule about just shutting up and being grateful, and if there is, then i'm ok with breaking that rule.
that was a preemptive strike against what i'll call the "gratitude police." you know them. they're the ones who always have something to say whenever you're even remotely negative about something. "ugh, i have to go to work." "you should be glad you have a job!" "dammit, i need to clean the house/car/garage/whatever." "don't you know how lucky you are to even have a house/car/garage/whatever?"
for me, the annoying thing about that is yes, i actually do know how lucky i am. anyone who's been paying attention to my life during the past 4-5 years knows that i will readily cop to being thankful/grateful for where things are vs. where they could have been. that doesn't mean i can't complain or whine about it. pretty sure there's no hard and fast rule about just shutting up and being grateful, and if there is, then i'm ok with breaking that rule.
Saturday, May 23, 2015
still here
i honestly don't know how i'm still here some days, but i'm here. this week was a clusterfuck on myriad levels, ending with the news that a colleague's husband died suddenly this week.
one bright spot, if it can be called that, was this snippet from my colleague's family about the memorial:
have a good weekend.
one bright spot, if it can be called that, was this snippet from my colleague's family about the memorial:
In lieu of flowers, the family has made the following request: "Please donate to something very meaningful to your own beliefs - or in the ways of (redacted), befriend someone who needs a friend, or take someone to lunch who looks like they could use it."i'm not crying, you're crying.
have a good weekend.
Sunday, May 03, 2015
me, miss janet, and the babygirl syndrome
i was having a bit of a lazy sunday morning earlier. y'know, the whole "take a shower and go back to bed and watch tv" kind of lazy? while watching tv, the video for michael & janet jackson's "scream" came on. i hadn't seen it in a while.
something struck me while i was watching it this morning, though. for the first time in a long time, it was obvious to me that janet & i have something in common - we both have what i'm calling "babygirl syndrome." we're the youngest. we grew up with older siblings. we love those siblings even when they say or do things we don't quite understand. we do our best to honor that bond.
at the same time, though, we're always striving to create and establish our own separate identity. janet's not just "michael's little sister," just how i'm not just my brothers' little sister. never mind that some people still introduce me that way when the other person has previously met one of my brothers.
think about it. janet has always been cast in the supportive little sister role in her family. artistically, though, she's put in hard work to show people that yes, she's her own woman with her own voice and opinions. i can recognize it because i've done the same thing. my brothers drive me up the fucking wall (as longtime readers and people who know me well irl can attest), but that's my family and i love them dearly even though they drive me up the fucking wall. at the same damn time, though, i've worked (and am still working) on being my own woman with my own voice and opinions. it's not easy, but it's worth it.
something struck me while i was watching it this morning, though. for the first time in a long time, it was obvious to me that janet & i have something in common - we both have what i'm calling "babygirl syndrome." we're the youngest. we grew up with older siblings. we love those siblings even when they say or do things we don't quite understand. we do our best to honor that bond.
at the same time, though, we're always striving to create and establish our own separate identity. janet's not just "michael's little sister," just how i'm not just my brothers' little sister. never mind that some people still introduce me that way when the other person has previously met one of my brothers.
think about it. janet has always been cast in the supportive little sister role in her family. artistically, though, she's put in hard work to show people that yes, she's her own woman with her own voice and opinions. i can recognize it because i've done the same thing. my brothers drive me up the fucking wall (as longtime readers and people who know me well irl can attest), but that's my family and i love them dearly even though they drive me up the fucking wall. at the same damn time, though, i've worked (and am still working) on being my own woman with my own voice and opinions. it's not easy, but it's worth it.
Thursday, April 30, 2015
recipe review: pork chops with apples and onions
quasi-landlord is on a more restricted than usual diet these days. two of the things she's supposed to stay away from are onions and garlic. longtime readers know about my love of garlic, and quasi-landlord decided immediately that there was no way she could omit garlic from her diet. i'm ok with that, obviously.
onions, on the other hand...well, let's just say that there was a surplus of sweet onions on hand and something had to be done with them. i knew i had pork chops in the freezer, so off i went to my folder o'recipes. i'd honestly forgotten i had this one saved, and i have no idea what took me so long to get around to making it.
here's what i did differently: i used salt, pepper, and garlic powder (b/c garlic) to season the pork chops. i had 2 boneless cutlets and 2 bone-in chops. i used beer (blue moon to be exact, the remains of which i am drinking while i write this), 2 pink lady apples, and 1 large sweet onion. oh, and i made sweet potatoes as my side dish instead of rice or mashed potatoes.
guys. omg you guys. i am so full and happy. i am so making this again. i am so angry with myself for not making this sooner. i want y'all to make this and to be full and happy. quasi-landlord wandered in while i was cooking and pretty much demanded that i make this once her diet isn't as restricted. i will be happy to oblige.
onions, on the other hand...well, let's just say that there was a surplus of sweet onions on hand and something had to be done with them. i knew i had pork chops in the freezer, so off i went to my folder o'recipes. i'd honestly forgotten i had this one saved, and i have no idea what took me so long to get around to making it.
here's what i did differently: i used salt, pepper, and garlic powder (b/c garlic) to season the pork chops. i had 2 boneless cutlets and 2 bone-in chops. i used beer (blue moon to be exact, the remains of which i am drinking while i write this), 2 pink lady apples, and 1 large sweet onion. oh, and i made sweet potatoes as my side dish instead of rice or mashed potatoes.
guys. omg you guys. i am so full and happy. i am so making this again. i am so angry with myself for not making this sooner. i want y'all to make this and to be full and happy. quasi-landlord wandered in while i was cooking and pretty much demanded that i make this once her diet isn't as restricted. i will be happy to oblige.
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
let's talk about wonderful sex (sfw edition)
"i hope to god my child never shoots someone in the face, but i really hope she has wonderful sex." - shonda rhimes in essence magazine
— eulalia (@queeneulalia) April 21, 2015
i won't copy the rest of my tweets from my brainstorm last night, but i basically wanted to point out that a lot of us, self included, weren't raised to think that wonderful sex was an option. for me, sex education at home was "don't have sex until you're married," and "ok, here's how you get pregnant, but DON'T YOU DARE COME HOME PREGNANT BECAUSE YOUR LIFE WILL BE OVER." seriously, that was pretty much it. no talk of "hey, so when you do have sex, here's how to make it enjoyable and safe at the same time for all parties involved."
luckily i've had 20 years or so of, ahem, practice to try to keep figuring this out, but that quote from shonda really got me thinking. what is it with our society that, in 2015, there's still so much shame and stigma attached to healthy sexual relationships? why do we do this to ourselves and to the next generation?
i'm not even gonna pretend to have the answers on this one. i'm not even sure i know what questions need to be asked, but i'm willing to attempt to discuss it if y'all are.
Monday, April 20, 2015
remembering our dear miss brooks during national poetry month
gwendolyn brooks, that is. i've written previously about winning her poetry contest in 8th grade, so that should tell you how highly her work ranks with me.
i discovered "when you have forgotten sunday: the love story" during my senior year at northwestern in a performance studies class, and it's still one of my favorites.
i discovered "when you have forgotten sunday: the love story" during my senior year at northwestern in a performance studies class, and it's still one of my favorites.
"—And when you have forgotten the bright bedclothes on a Wednesday and a Saturday,for some reason, the poem popped into my head this morning, so i figured i might as well share it. happy monday. :-)
And most especially when you have forgotten Sunday—
When you have forgotten Sunday halves in bed,
Or me sitting on the front-room radiator in the limping afternoon
Looking off down the long street
To nowhere,
Hugged by my plain old wrapper of no-expectation
And nothing-I-have-to-do and I’m-happy-why?
And if-Monday-never-had-to-come—
When you have forgotten that, I say,
And how you swore, if somebody beeped the bell,
And how my heart played hopscotch if the telephone rang;
And how we finally went in to Sunday dinner,
That is to say, went across the front room floor to the ink-spotted table in the southwest corner
To Sunday dinner, which was always chicken and noodles
Or chicken and rice
And salad and rye bread and tea
And chocolate chip cookies—
I say, when you have forgotten that,
When you have forgotten my little presentiment
That the war would be over before they got to you;
And how we finally undressed and whipped out the light and flowed into bed,
And lay loose-limbed for a moment in the week-end
Bright bedclothes,
Then gently folded into each other—
When you have, I say, forgotten all that,
Then you may tell,
Then I may believe
You have forgotten me well."
Sunday, April 12, 2015
random reminders and remembering
try to meet people where they are. try to be ok with leaving people where they are.
engage in crazy faith and angry prayers.
find the go(o)d and grab it.
find the p(r)etty and praise it.
--Lucille Clifton, "why some people be mad at me sometimes"
engage in crazy faith and angry prayers.
find the go(o)d and grab it.
find the p(r)etty and praise it.
"they ask me to remember
but they want me to remember
their memories
and i keep on remembering
mine."
--Lucille Clifton, "why some people be mad at me sometimes"
Wednesday, April 01, 2015
happy national poetry month!
one of the last books i read during the 1st quarter of 2015 was this volume of poetry. i found myself nodding in agreement in certain places, and jotting down verses in others. seriously - if you're into poetry, check this book out.
one poem in particular, Heaven is No Recompense, really stuck out for me. i think it's a piece that applies to quite a few of us right now, so i'm posting it here.
here's to a great month for all of us.
one poem in particular, Heaven is No Recompense, really stuck out for me. i think it's a piece that applies to quite a few of us right now, so i'm posting it here.
Heaven is No Recompense by Angela Jackson
Who ever you love you will lose
Sooner or later. Even you.
And you will grieve for who
Ever is lost. Even you.
How can you lose unless you hold?
And how can you hold without
Touching, being touched.
Each stroke a stroke of luck
Pity us. And love the luck.
here's to a great month for all of us.
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
on: thoughts that go bump in your head in the night
"aren't you afraid of falling in love again?" nope. i have so many other worries that keep me up at night.
— eulalia (@queeneulalia) March 24, 2015
it's true, though. falling in love is among the least of my worries at this point. my role as a empath means that i worry about my "family"/tribe/circle/whatever you wanna call the folks i care about the most. are they ok? are their families ok? will the black men i love and hold dear make it home in one piece? what the fuck is it with politicians and police officers and other folks in power that are so fucking hellbent on fucking shit up for people who look like me? the anxiety attacks i have about those things (and myriad others) are real and so not spectacular. sometimes i text/email/tweet certain folks just to make sure that they're still around because they've popped up in my dreams and said dreams were the polar opposite of "sweet."
honestly, any and every day that i manage to make it out of bed is a good day. just living from one day to the next is a courageous act for me. i remember my 17th birthday and being quite ready to say the hell with everything and commit suicide. i also remember a little tiny voice telling me not to give up just yet.
but then there are other not so tiny voices telling me that my life is just one big failure and there's really no point in even trying to improve things, so #minuswell give up. there are days when those voices are LOUD AS ALL HELL and it takes everything i have in me to get out of bed. those are the voices that say that i'm never going to find a full-time job. that i will be stuck living with quasi-landlord forever. that nothing i want to achieve in my life is going to happen. that all of my hard work has been for naught. that daring to be happy is a mistake. that i will exposed as a giant fraud and everyone will desert me and everything will shatter into pieces that i will be unable to put back together. that i will dare to fall in love again and it won't work. that i have been and will be rejected so often and by so many people that i won't know what acceptance looks like anymore.
i get up, though. i get out of bed and i attempt to power through my day knowing that those voices will never shut the entire fuck up. sometimes i can use that self-doubt as motivational fuel - y'know, the whole "oh yeah? well, i'll show you!" thing. sometimes it works. oftentimes it doesn't and i regret getting out of bed in the first place.
this is a big part of why i'm committed to meeting and leaving people where they are. the psychic cost of not facing my demons and of amplifying those negative voices is too great. so, yeah, sometimes i say things that give people pause. sometimes i behave in ways that other folks don't understand or agree with. sometimes i make questionable decisions on purpose. and yes, sometimes i eat and drink my way through things and feelings because adulting is hard. fuck it.
when you see me tweeting about how we're all stronger than we give ourselves credit for and how we'll get through whatever adversity we're currently faced with, please know that i am also talking to myself (and, more specifically, those loud ass voices in my head) in those moments. i know enough to know that i'm not alone in this, which is why i try my damnedest to make sure that i'm there for folks who need me. meeting people where they are. making sure they're ok. supporting and encouraging them. giving myself a break from the continuous cacophony of doubt so i can focus on someone else and maybe, just maybe, we'll all get over the hump.
this is the life i have. this is the path i'm on. i know it's not for everyone and i accept that not everyone will be fellow travelers on the road to wherever the fuck this leads. this is why i'm so incredibly grateful for those of you who are on this journey with me. for the ones who reach out to say "hey, i see you. you're ok." for the ones who don't have to say a word for me to know that they've got my back. i love you.
Sunday, March 22, 2015
on: meeting (and leaving) people where they are
as previously stated, i am really trying to commit to meeting people where they are. during the past week or so, though, i've realized that not only can i meet people where they are, but i can also leave them where they are.
i don't mean that in a negative way. it's more of a realization that everyone i meet isn't going to be in my life for the long haul, and that's ok. hell, everyone i meet shouldn't be in my life for the long haul, and that's also ok - hence the leaving people where they are.
i was talking to someone last week who i previously hadn't been in contact with for almost a decade. we were catching up and they asked what my life was like now. i said that at this point, i'm just trying to live my life and be happy and anyone who's willing to join along for the ride is more than welcome, and anyone who isn't willing to support that quest can, quite simply, get the fuck out.
i don't think they were ready for that level of realness, but the journey i'm on at this moment requires nothing else than the best i can dedicate to it, and if that means leaving people where they are and continuing on my merry little way, then so be it.
i don't mean that in a negative way. it's more of a realization that everyone i meet isn't going to be in my life for the long haul, and that's ok. hell, everyone i meet shouldn't be in my life for the long haul, and that's also ok - hence the leaving people where they are.
i was talking to someone last week who i previously hadn't been in contact with for almost a decade. we were catching up and they asked what my life was like now. i said that at this point, i'm just trying to live my life and be happy and anyone who's willing to join along for the ride is more than welcome, and anyone who isn't willing to support that quest can, quite simply, get the fuck out.
i don't think they were ready for that level of realness, but the journey i'm on at this moment requires nothing else than the best i can dedicate to it, and if that means leaving people where they are and continuing on my merry little way, then so be it.
Monday, February 23, 2015
when knowing the "why" doesn't make it any easier
i have been in a mood for the past, oh, 36 hours or so. bitchy, angry, depressed, sad, emo...whatever you wanna call it, i have probably experienced some variation of it since yesterday afternoon. i tweeted last night that i wanted to call off from work today because i was angry and i hated people and i just wanted to drink and make bad decisions.
i still feel that way to a certain extent, really. i would be more than happy to drink all of the drinks and leave someone else in charge of decision-making. i'm tired of being responsible and i would just like at least one day where i can just sit in relative peace and quiet and do as much or as little as i would like, preferably without pants. i miss having a place of my own where i could be as moody as i want to be and not have to justify it or talk about it or put on a happy mask.
work tonight wasn't terrible, but i still found myself wanting to be snippy when situations didn't really call for it. there have been a few anti-epiphanies floating through my head (part of why i kept waking up every 2-3 hours last night, which was as fun as you think it was) since this mood came on, but they weren't fleshed out enough for me to have a "aha!" moment about them.
it really didn't come to me until work was almost over. i am self-aware enough to know that a part of me is still in denial about lori's death. part of this mood is me dealing with that. the other part of this mood, though, is doing the math and remembering once again why february and march are so difficult for me at times.
the last time i saw my father alive was on his birthday, february 18, 1997. he died less than 2 weeks later. my mother died in march. james died in march. and now i can add lori's death date to the february calendar. this wasn't an "aha!" moment per se, but it damn sure helped me pinpoint why the hell i'm in such a mood. funny thing is, i was pondering booking a massage because holy shit the stress tension is real right now, but then i realized i might start sobbing on the massage table and that would be all kinds of uncomfortable.
instead, i will try to make sense of my thoughts and try to curb the urge to punch people in the face and try to make it through each day without dissolving into a puddle (well, in public, anyway) and we will see what happens. maybe one of these days, i will have a day off from adulting. i swear i would love nothing more than to relinquish my throne for a day and let someone else deal with all of this shit.
i still feel that way to a certain extent, really. i would be more than happy to drink all of the drinks and leave someone else in charge of decision-making. i'm tired of being responsible and i would just like at least one day where i can just sit in relative peace and quiet and do as much or as little as i would like, preferably without pants. i miss having a place of my own where i could be as moody as i want to be and not have to justify it or talk about it or put on a happy mask.
work tonight wasn't terrible, but i still found myself wanting to be snippy when situations didn't really call for it. there have been a few anti-epiphanies floating through my head (part of why i kept waking up every 2-3 hours last night, which was as fun as you think it was) since this mood came on, but they weren't fleshed out enough for me to have a "aha!" moment about them.
it really didn't come to me until work was almost over. i am self-aware enough to know that a part of me is still in denial about lori's death. part of this mood is me dealing with that. the other part of this mood, though, is doing the math and remembering once again why february and march are so difficult for me at times.
the last time i saw my father alive was on his birthday, february 18, 1997. he died less than 2 weeks later. my mother died in march. james died in march. and now i can add lori's death date to the february calendar. this wasn't an "aha!" moment per se, but it damn sure helped me pinpoint why the hell i'm in such a mood. funny thing is, i was pondering booking a massage because holy shit the stress tension is real right now, but then i realized i might start sobbing on the massage table and that would be all kinds of uncomfortable.
instead, i will try to make sense of my thoughts and try to curb the urge to punch people in the face and try to make it through each day without dissolving into a puddle (well, in public, anyway) and we will see what happens. maybe one of these days, i will have a day off from adulting. i swear i would love nothing more than to relinquish my throne for a day and let someone else deal with all of this shit.
Monday, February 16, 2015
on: saying goodbye
hands down, this was the most difficult funeral i've been to since james died. in some ways, james' funeral was easier for me b/c some of y'all were there and troy was there and i knew w/o any doubt that if i faltered or fell, someone would catch me.
february 4. a text from carol asking if i was at home. me saying i was about to leave work and, as the texts progressing, me asking if i needed to call her. i did, and i did, and she told me lori was gone. luckily i was sitting down (and luckily carol asked if i was sitting just in case before she told me) b/c i might've hit the floor.
see, lori was gonna be invincible in my eyes. anyone who'd beaten the medical odds the way she had was bound to outlive us all. lori was the reason i coined the phrase "crazy faith and angry prayers," b/c when she was in the hospital for weeks on end for reasons that couldn't really be explained, i was crazy enough to believe she'd pull through, and angry enough to yell at god and shake my fist in his direction b/c this wasn't how shit was supposed to go down.
but it did, and she survived, and she kept us laughing and on our toes. we all knew she lost her legs, but lori never lost her spirit. her smile. her ability to make us double over at the most inane thing. it's one of the things i loved most about her.
fuck. i just typed "loved" right there and i'm not gonna lie, it kinda hurt.
anyway...from february 4 until this afternoon, i'd done a decent job, imo, of not falling apart. i kept telling myself that i could weep all of the tears at her funeral. that i would be able to say good-bye. that my family, and our church family, could say good-bye. i needed it. we needed it. lori was there to hold me up when daddy died. when james died. i really dislike attending funerals b/c of [reasons], but dammit, i was gonna be there for her and for her family. it was only right.
it wasn't until i was combing my hair while getting ready to head out this afternoon that it hit me. lori was there on my wedding day. she was in that inner sanctum helping me get ready.
february 4. a text from carol asking if i was at home. me saying i was about to leave work and, as the texts progressing, me asking if i needed to call her. i did, and i did, and she told me lori was gone. luckily i was sitting down (and luckily carol asked if i was sitting just in case before she told me) b/c i might've hit the floor.
see, lori was gonna be invincible in my eyes. anyone who'd beaten the medical odds the way she had was bound to outlive us all. lori was the reason i coined the phrase "crazy faith and angry prayers," b/c when she was in the hospital for weeks on end for reasons that couldn't really be explained, i was crazy enough to believe she'd pull through, and angry enough to yell at god and shake my fist in his direction b/c this wasn't how shit was supposed to go down.
but it did, and she survived, and she kept us laughing and on our toes. we all knew she lost her legs, but lori never lost her spirit. her smile. her ability to make us double over at the most inane thing. it's one of the things i loved most about her.
fuck. i just typed "loved" right there and i'm not gonna lie, it kinda hurt.
anyway...from february 4 until this afternoon, i'd done a decent job, imo, of not falling apart. i kept telling myself that i could weep all of the tears at her funeral. that i would be able to say good-bye. that my family, and our church family, could say good-bye. i needed it. we needed it. lori was there to hold me up when daddy died. when james died. i really dislike attending funerals b/c of [reasons], but dammit, i was gonna be there for her and for her family. it was only right.
it wasn't until i was combing my hair while getting ready to head out this afternoon that it hit me. lori was there on my wedding day. she was in that inner sanctum helping me get ready.
and now i had to go to the same church that holds so many wonderful memories for me and say goodbye to my "play" auntie. i put that in quotes b/c really, lori was family. i mean, yeah, we called her "auntie lori," but that was more a term of endearment than any actual establishment of connection. she was there, and then she wasn't, and it is still difficult for me to deal with this.
apropos of nothing, i found this pic of me & james, also from my wedding day, while i was looking for the above pic. it's one of my favorites. i missed "uncle james" something fierce today. i felt, if not heard him, during the service tonight, which was helpful in moments but totally broke me in others. i can tell y'all this b/c you're removed enough and you won't be broken by it.
anyway, the picture of me & james:
and now i need to try to catch up on sleep. i have totes magotes lost my viking status this week.
Saturday, February 14, 2015
what a difference a few years can make
throughout today, i have been reminding myself that no matter how horrible the day was, it wouldn't be nearly as bad as things were three years ago.
no, seriously. this was me on valentine's day 2012. the hottest of messes. actually, that's not quite accurate. what's worse than a hot mess? b/c i'm pretty sure that's what i was this time 3 years ago.
today? i went to work and almost everyone on my crew today remembered to bring candy and/or snacks. one of our co-workers really loves valentine's day and we knew it'd mean a lot to her if we celebrated it somehow. it was pretty sweet.
also i have plenty of chocolate on hand, so i don't have to worry about my stash approaching dangerously low levels. which is good, b/c the wind chill is getting ridiculous and i don't wanna go outside until i absolutely have to.
compared to 2012, the fact that i'm back in chicago full-time and have a part-time job still amazes me sometimes. honestly, there were times when i really wasn't sure how i was going to claw my way back. there are still times when i'm not sure how i'm gonna make this all work, but at least i'm in the city i love and in close proximity to my wonderful circle of friends and yes i'm being a bit sappy about it. i'm entitled.
i hope y'all had a great day, or at least a day that didn't completely suck. :-)
Friday, February 06, 2015
on: a week full of feelings
omg you guys it's friday. if friday was an actual person, i might give it a hug or buy it a drink or something. holy christ. i remember being happy that january was over b/c january really was on some fuckshit for a lot of people i know and i was glad to see it go.
monday was lab work at the hospital before work. i schedule these tests right before work so i only have to make one trip up to evanston and not "lose" one of my days off. the problem, though, is that hospitals make me claustrophobic if i'm in one for longer than, say, 2 hours. luckily, i got to the hospital early (on the day after a blizzard, no less) and got in and out before i hit that threshold, but i totally felt myself on the verge of losing my shit. it also helped that i'd built in enough time between my appointment and when i needed to be at work to grab a late lunch and try to regain some semblance of normalcy.
tuesday was pretty productive, actually. i applied for jobs and filed my taxes (yay for making just enough to owe the government $10) and made an appointment to get my hair cut next week (i may or may not be considering cutting a significant amount of my hair, but i'm a wuss and who knows what i'll actually do). i also attempted to re-enroll in a health insurance plan (thank you, president obama!) but my doctor only accepts a plan that i'm not qualified for. at least i have the option of finding out if another doctor in the practice accepts one of my alternative plans.
wednesday. wednesday about broke me. first it was work-related stuff - my schedule might be changing a bit b/c of management [reasons]. then i found out that one of my nearest and dearest family friends died on wednesday. i know enough to know that i am still kind of in shock and/or denial about this news. i don't know when the funeral is yet, but i know i need to go and say my goodbyes and have all the feelings with my family, both of the blood relations and of the church variety. i also found out on wednesday that a bar in my neighborhood is closing and when i went there with a girlfriend wednesday night, the feelings kinda hit me out of nowhere. i realized that a lot of ladybrunches happened there right around the time that my life was going through all of the changes, so that bar was kind of a safe haven of sorts and now it's closing and omg feels.
yesterday my phone decided to stop functioning and verizon was nice enough to offer me an "upgrade" that would cost me more per month for half the data i'm getting now. yeah...no. at least i got my phone to work, thanks to all the experience i had resetting it back in november.
today was pretty solid, though, b/c i won free shoes from dsw. it's nice to be a winner. :-)
so, yeah. all of the feelings this week. at some point i will have some sort of meltdown (more than likely at the funeral) but until then, i'm relying on my ability to compartmentalize and i'll just keep swimming, just keep swimming...:P
monday was lab work at the hospital before work. i schedule these tests right before work so i only have to make one trip up to evanston and not "lose" one of my days off. the problem, though, is that hospitals make me claustrophobic if i'm in one for longer than, say, 2 hours. luckily, i got to the hospital early (on the day after a blizzard, no less) and got in and out before i hit that threshold, but i totally felt myself on the verge of losing my shit. it also helped that i'd built in enough time between my appointment and when i needed to be at work to grab a late lunch and try to regain some semblance of normalcy.
tuesday was pretty productive, actually. i applied for jobs and filed my taxes (yay for making just enough to owe the government $10) and made an appointment to get my hair cut next week (i may or may not be considering cutting a significant amount of my hair, but i'm a wuss and who knows what i'll actually do). i also attempted to re-enroll in a health insurance plan (thank you, president obama!) but my doctor only accepts a plan that i'm not qualified for. at least i have the option of finding out if another doctor in the practice accepts one of my alternative plans.
wednesday. wednesday about broke me. first it was work-related stuff - my schedule might be changing a bit b/c of management [reasons]. then i found out that one of my nearest and dearest family friends died on wednesday. i know enough to know that i am still kind of in shock and/or denial about this news. i don't know when the funeral is yet, but i know i need to go and say my goodbyes and have all the feelings with my family, both of the blood relations and of the church variety. i also found out on wednesday that a bar in my neighborhood is closing and when i went there with a girlfriend wednesday night, the feelings kinda hit me out of nowhere. i realized that a lot of ladybrunches happened there right around the time that my life was going through all of the changes, so that bar was kind of a safe haven of sorts and now it's closing and omg feels.
yesterday my phone decided to stop functioning and verizon was nice enough to offer me an "upgrade" that would cost me more per month for half the data i'm getting now. yeah...no. at least i got my phone to work, thanks to all the experience i had resetting it back in november.
today was pretty solid, though, b/c i won free shoes from dsw. it's nice to be a winner. :-)
so, yeah. all of the feelings this week. at some point i will have some sort of meltdown (more than likely at the funeral) but until then, i'm relying on my ability to compartmentalize and i'll just keep swimming, just keep swimming...:P
Saturday, January 24, 2015
quote of the day
courtesy of the book i'm just about done reading:
"And lying on my back just like the girl I've always been, I watch the clouds drift and glow across the roof of the world, becoming newspaper headlines that tell the story of my life, the last one saying, Fuck you, I survive."that just resonated with me and since it wouldn't fit in a single tweet, i decided to post it here. good night. :-)
on: meeting people where they are (and trying to accept yourself in the process)
one of the things i'm really trying to focus on this year is meeting people where they are. i mean that both in a literal sense and also more figuratively. if i know the only way i'm gonna be able to spend time with someone is by dropping by their job or meeting them for drinks or seeing them at church (in the case of my family, anyway) or whatever, then that's what i'm going to try to do. if i know someone's going through some shit but they just wanna keep things light/superficial and have a few laughs, then that's what we're gonna do when we hang out. you get the gist.
i struggle with this. i really do. as i get older and realize that my propensity for being a empath/caregiver is becoming more and more pronounced, the more convinced i am that i just want the people i love to be safe and happy. it's difficult because so many people i know and love are having issues of various kinds and holy hell do i feel their pain. i'd love to fix things for them but i can't and that leads to more pain and have i mentioned that being an empath is really fucking difficult sometimes? because it is.
i was catching up with a friend earlier this week and i was telling them about this new "mission" of mine, and how it all made sense in my head and how i'm hoping it'll help me be a better friend by letting go of some of my type-a minus tendencies (which is a struggle in and of itself, let me tell you). the conversation moved on to other things, like how i've been thinking about letting go of my "let me get a full-time job and move back into my own place and maybe then i can think about the possibility of dating and (re)establishing a social life, etc." plan and just let whatever happens, happen.
my friend, in their ultimate active listener wisdom, looked at me and said, "you know how you want to meet people where they are? you need to meet yourself where you are, too."
not gonna lie, that kinda stopped me in my tracks for a second. "i know you already know this. it's in your head. you just needed to hear someone you trust to hold up the mirror and say it back to you."
sometimes i hate my friends for being so gotdamn right all the time. :P
it's true, though. i accept that we are all broken in our own myriad ways and as much as i really want y'all to be safe and happy, that's not always possible...hence the meeting people where they are. if i'm really gonna be effective in this whole meeting people where they are, then i need to meet myself wherever the fuck i am, too.
i struggle with this. i really do. as i get older and realize that my propensity for being a empath/caregiver is becoming more and more pronounced, the more convinced i am that i just want the people i love to be safe and happy. it's difficult because so many people i know and love are having issues of various kinds and holy hell do i feel their pain. i'd love to fix things for them but i can't and that leads to more pain and have i mentioned that being an empath is really fucking difficult sometimes? because it is.
i was catching up with a friend earlier this week and i was telling them about this new "mission" of mine, and how it all made sense in my head and how i'm hoping it'll help me be a better friend by letting go of some of my type-a minus tendencies (which is a struggle in and of itself, let me tell you). the conversation moved on to other things, like how i've been thinking about letting go of my "let me get a full-time job and move back into my own place and maybe then i can think about the possibility of dating and (re)establishing a social life, etc." plan and just let whatever happens, happen.
my friend, in their ultimate active listener wisdom, looked at me and said, "you know how you want to meet people where they are? you need to meet yourself where you are, too."
not gonna lie, that kinda stopped me in my tracks for a second. "i know you already know this. it's in your head. you just needed to hear someone you trust to hold up the mirror and say it back to you."
sometimes i hate my friends for being so gotdamn right all the time. :P
it's true, though. i accept that we are all broken in our own myriad ways and as much as i really want y'all to be safe and happy, that's not always possible...hence the meeting people where they are. if i'm really gonna be effective in this whole meeting people where they are, then i need to meet myself wherever the fuck i am, too.
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