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a whole freakin' archive of jabber Monday, October 29, 2001... 12:38 AM It's official: this was the BEST CONCERT WEEKEND of ALL time.No doubt about it. Friday night, I went with Jennygirl (aka, Number One Girl) to go see Ani Difranco play at Brookedale Community College in Lower Shlobovia, New Jersey. The whole experience brought me back to college days for a night... getting on a bus to Jersey to be picked up by her friend Drew, not ever really knowing where we were going or how long it was gonna take, just enjoying ourselves and the ride, me falling asleep after a half-hour on the highway (typical) even though I had a double-shot latte to try and prevent it, getting to the show and boogeyin' down to the most excellent and divine Ms. Difranco and openers Bitch and Animal, who I just looooove anyways, getting a new RBR tank top (the "righteous" one! woohoo!), laughing our asses off, going through hell and highwater to get back into NYC, laughing our asses off some more... then to cap it off, we decided to go for the "one drink after the show" at The Keltic Lounge (check out the site, I designed it and update it), which of course turned into us leaving the bar at 4:15, none too sober. Thennnnnnnn, we trekked our way out to the Meadowlands to see (pause for effect... ... ...) U2! We thought we had the worst seats ever (behind the stage in the top tier), but they turned out to be pretty cool anyways... and the show... oh my. The show was insane, my friends. Ultimate in huge concert-going experiences. They played almost all the songs I wanted to hear (but would it be too much to ask for them to play "Bad?" Please? Just once?), and paid plenty of attention to us behind-the-stagers, and Bono even walked out onto the crowd. Yep. Sorta like an old-guy crowd surf, in a way, and it was awesome. They played not one, but two encores, and then we got right on one of the first buses back to the city... all-in-all, an amaaaazing scene. Oh, and I got a groovy little sleeveless tee from that show, too. Yay! Wow. I got to see my two favorite sets of musicians in one weekend. And next month is Barenaked Ladies at Roseland. I haven't seen them in... five years? Actually, the last time I saw them was New Year's at Roseland, and then I stopped going because they gotta all pop-y and kinda dull. It's time, though, time to return. Time to shake mah dancin' legs, baby!
Sunday, October 28, 2001... 2:34 AM Mom called me tonight to tell me that if I could make it home in a half-hour, the chicken soup that Pop's making would be ready. It's such a brisk night—no, make that a COLD night—that Pop's chicken soup is probably the only thing that could get me out of my tiny city apartment. Never mind that it's a 3 1/2 hour drive and I don't have a car... no, she continued to taunt me by describing the smell of the apple pie he had baking in the oven, the one he's making for that bake sale at church tomorrow. I could see the steam on the kitchen window, I could taste the cinnamon and nutmeg on the sour apples he buys at the farmer's market in Appalachian to bake his pies with. I know that taste so very well, I always stole chunks from the mixing bowl before they ever had a chance of making it into the pie. I step outside for a cigarette on the side porch while the soup is still simmering; a rush of bitter upstate wind bites at my nose and I smell the leaves decomposing in the yard, and wonder if my brother and I should rake them up tomorrow. I look up, I see stars, clearly and profoundly lazing about in the sky, not struggling to shine like they do in the city. My dog thumps her butt up against my leg and I reach for her collar, before her thick black coat allows her to melt into the darkness of our backyard, only allowing two lit-up eyeballs to peep out every once in a while, as I stand there trying unsuccessfully to coax her back into the house. When I come inside, Mom has the table set and a candle lit, and Pop is shutting off the end of the college football game on the TV. My brother lumbers in from the living room, having just woke up from a cold Saturday evening's nap, and he puts the salt and pepper on the table while Mom remembers the butter from the fridge. We sit down and say grace, Mom says an extra two or three sentences about how thankful she is to have her two children here sharing this meal. We toast with Pop's homemade wine to that sentiment, but the soup is hot, too hot to even slurp, so we dip our crusty bread in it instead, let it cool, that we may catch up on time passing and futures rising. Pop cracks a slapstick one-liner out of the corner of his mouth, and my brother and I lose it, fall over in hysterics, and Mom fakes exasperation with a grinning "Guuuuus!" directed at him, but he just grins and giggles back at her. I fill up too quickly on bread but have a second bowl of soup anyway, I can't resist the very sincere, the very honest, tangible, substantial taste of it. No one makes chicken soup like my Pop, let me tell you. Just thinking of it simmering on the stove can bring us all home.
Monday, October 22, 2001... 4:26 PM i'm... working... in... corporate... america... again.actually, it's not too bad, it's more of a spectator thing, because it's a consulting job for three or four months. bonus is that it's a German company i used to work for, so i know most everyone already. it's still pretty freakin' weird, though. REALLY freakin' weird. oh, and being back here reminded me that Germans are very... German. verrrrrry German. i kind of missed that, but i kind of didn't. it's just so... WEIRD! have i mentioned that?
Friday, October 19, 2001... 11:39 PM One of my favorite people in the whole wide world is my friend James.We met in college, where we were both assigned to be RAs in Zenger Hall, Colonial Quad, 1996-97. It's not often you get to work with someone who not only complements your management and work style perfectly (I did all the hall decorations while James checked the keys; we both believed that respect should be the number one guiding principle of the hall), but who you also find is on the same level of spiritual truth-seeking that you are. We spent our first night in the hall discussing tenets of Buddhism, Christianity and Taoism, how to achieve inner peace, and what the best conspiracies of all time were, all while I painted a mural and he hung door tags. It was an almost instantaneous bond. The thing about James that's so great, though, is that he has the spirit of a very, very old man. A very old, very senile man. He'll be sitting there leading you through one of the greatest spiritual epiphanies of your life, and then turn right around and say something like, "Did you say 'vanilla?' Yeah, I like vanilla, too. With chocolate sauce. But not that nasty stuff in the dining hall. I mean a nice, creamy chocolate sauce on top of a good, thick vanilla ice cream. That's great... What were we talking about?" And he's not doing it to be "quirky," either. He's doing it because he's a senile old man. But a very wise one. I've had a bug in my brain to call him for a couple of weeks now, and I finally did tonight. As always, it's as if time never passes between us. We made spur of the moment plans to see each other tomorrow (God help me, I'm going out to Long Island), and I already knew the drill of telling him to write down the time of my train, which station I was at, to call and remind him in the morning, to call and remind him again while I was on the train, just in case. And he knew the drill with me, too, that when I say I have had the craziest few months of my life, that it's par for the course, and he'll get the full story in good time. I can't wait to see him.
... 9:14 PM for anyone who's ever had a journal during the college years:have you ever gone back and re-read your stuff from when you were like, 19, 20 years old? this is by far the most entertaining way i could spend an evening. i just re-read some of my old journals. i mean, REALLY re-read them, not just scanned through. my conclusion? i was nuts and my friends just didn't have the guts to tell me. i mean, man, i was certifiable.... you guys think i'm a drama queen now? lemme repeat: you think i'm a drama queen... NOW? ohhhhh-ho-ho-ho... you have no idea. i would post some of the entries here, but one, i might get sued for slander by an ex here and there, and two, i'm just too freakin' embarrassed. holy cow. DRAMA! one good thing was that i had written down a chorus to a song my friend adam had written: 4/8/96 "and weaker threads are made strong when woven to make the rope on which we cling we hang our lives on years of learning how not to listen to what should not be" how cool is THAT?
Tuesday, October 16, 2001... 4:34 PM it's sort of weird to be reading articles called "What You Need to Know About Anthrax" and have them not be a joke, like something from The Onion.a lot of people around me are freaking out with this stuff. i think i am one of the few in my age group (or maybe just in the circles of people that i travel within) that isn't. someone said to me a few weeks ago: "whatever's gonna happen is gonna happen, whatever doesn't, won't." and that pretty much sums it up, y'know? what's the point of stressing about things that you have no control over? and why waste all that energy on fear and feelings of hopelessness? don't get me wrong, i get upset about things, i'm sad, i'm all of those things. but i have a newfound lust for life, my friends. over the past few years, i've been trying to live by a motto: "i will do my best work and let the cards fall where they may." what this means is that i have absolutely no control over anything but my own behavior, my own emotions, my own reactions, and my own actions. i think it's a tenet of buddhism, though i'm not entirely sure, being... well, not a buddhist. in any case, this can seem really terrifying to some people, especially control freaks like me. i like to think of myself as a recovering control freak, actually. i don't try to manipulate anymore, because not only is it bad karma, but it doesn't really do you any good in the end anyways. in the end, i am responsible for me, and me alone. and i'm finally happy with that. it's incredibly liberating, let me tell you. first example: the disaster. a lot of people are running around like chickens with their heads cut off, like, "ohhhh noooo, it's the end of the world, that's it, we're all gonna die! arrrrrrgh!" and you know what? we are all gonna die. at some point. might be in 50 years, 50 days, or 50 minutes. here comes my point: you have absolutely no control over what's happening in the world. so, what can you do? i guess you could live in fear and become an agoraphobic hermit, but if your town gets nuked, you wouldn't have had much fun, would you? so, think of it this way: i might die tomorrow, so by God, i'm going to have a damn good time tonight. and i'm going to do the things that fulfill my spirit and make me feel passionate about life. because i might not have the opportunity ever again, i might be dead, and who knows what happens then. so, to sum up, let the thought of death free you. (that sounds so weird. *shiver*) second example: i got laid off last week. i actually knew i was probably going to get laid off by the end of the year for a couple of months now. actually, i found out the week of my birthday this year (it made for an extra good reason to drink myself silly, lemme tell ya). i had just moved into a new apartment that costs almost twice as much as my old rent, i had just bought a new computer, and i have the usual student loans and credit card debt and all of that. but it went down all in the same way... i knew i didn't have any sort of control in the situation (except for making a case about why the company needed me, which i did, and which held me there for a few more months, i think). i was, of course, sort of bitter and hurt when i first found out a few months ago, but when the deed was done, what would have been the point of being a jerk? i knew the situation inside out, and i honestly knew that it was going to be the best thing for me. i had no plan, i had no vision, other than i never want to work in advertising again, and i want to finally pursue my dreams of taking a reaaaaaally long vacation and traveling, and also of being a writer/creative person/producer/filmmaker/whatever. and guess what happened? within hours of being laid off, i got a call from my previous job asking me to come consult with them for mad money (that's going to pay for aforementioned dreams for a bit!) for a few months. wahoo! so, the day after that, over coffee and cigarettes with my friend Jerome (aka, Jayyyyyyrrrrooommmmmuh), we sort of came up with three basic rules for living: 1.) balance. balance is key. 2.) patience. it will come to you, trust me. 3.) let it go. you only have control over yourself. make sense? i hope so.
Monday, October 15, 2001... 12:26 AM so, i've finally got this thing up and running. what do i have to say?y'see, the thing is this: i'm going to have a really hard time deciding what to post here and what not to. i have a feeling that all of say... 2 people read this page every week or so (if that), but you never know who is going to be reading it, ya know? i know, the hard life i lead. i mean, i keep a journal for all my really deep-dark stuff, but there's something incredibly alluring about posting it online. i dunno what it is. i'd love to sit here and talk about how i just got laid off (don't worry, it's a very good thing), but what if one of my ex-bosses swings on by and decides to read it and misinterprets something and then gets really pissed off and never wants to speak to me again? you might say, "well, deanna, ya know, they just laid you off, not like you gotta worry about much of that..." but i do worry, because i really like them and i wouldn't want them to get mad at me. story of my life. and what about other stuff, like say, i met somebody really cool and i want to tell the world about it? first i'm running the risk of that person seeing it; second, there's people out there that i don't want necessarily to know about such things (hi Grandma! love you!). of course, this is all coming back to the assumption that there are people out there reading this. :-D i guess it all really comes down to one of the basic things that has always plaqued me: i care lot about what the people in my life think of me. not in the acceptance-of-who-i-am department, but in the don't-get-mad-at-me-because-i-wrote-about-you department. maybe my little journal here will be my therapeutic device.
Wednesday, October 10, 2001... 2:28 AM this is my first freakin' blog. whee!
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