September 07, 2010

Anniversaries

Craig and I never did really celebrate any kind of anniversary, which always sort of frustrated me. I suppose my birthday was kind of like one in a way, but my birthday is also standalone because my birthday ROCKS as do I, yeah! Shortly after things went down, I learned that Concrete Blonde would be touring in honor of their TWENTY (20) YEAR ANNIVERSARY for Bloodletting. Someone, hand me my cane! I am getting old. I went to see Concrete Blonde in Cincinnati when I was, say, 14 or so, with Becca, Emily, Jen and Becca's mom (our kind hearted chaperone and driver who was ragingly cool and liked good music and probably, come to think of it, smoked pot)(enhancing her coolness) and so I found it only apropos that 20 years later (give or take) I'd find out about this show being performed so close to me it'd be downright ridiculous for me to NOT go. I invited Benjamine, who loves live music, and she and I made it a date. It was amazing. This woman, Johnette Napolitano, I'm telling you has not aged one year since I saw her back then. She is stunning, electric, her energy contagious, her voice still that same husky brilliance of back then. And considering I've made it somewhat of a tradition to see something vintage at least once per year, this was it. And it blew my mind. I later in the year saw Lady GaGa but that is totally irrelevant to my life (other than I run the heck out of the treadmill when I listen to "Bad Romance" and "Poker Face") so we won't discuss this any further.*Onto more gratitude delivery. There have been people who have just thrown themselves down to help and be there for me. I spent probably approximately two months denying myself access to anyone. It was a totally backwards way to operate my way through such a heartbreak. What happens when one gets abandoned? They abandon everyone else? How pathetic and disdainful of me. People were worried, they cared. I just shut down. Somewhere along the lines my co-worker and now faithful friend Niki stepped in. Or I stepped her in. I don't completely recall the logistics of how it happened because my mind filled with a deep black smoke much of February, March and on into April. But whatever it was, however it elapsed, she helped me through in ways that I'm completely indebted to her for. I don't know what prevented me from ever asking her for an ear before? The idea of becoming close to a co-worker? Trusting someone in the office? Either way, Niki has (and continues to do so) supported me very gently, really walking me through some stuff. She and I went through some debit card # compromising situation wherein we ate lunch together and had our #'s stolen along with another of our co-workers. I won't go into it but it was semi-disastrous for all of us and somehow, I just dealt with it with a nonchalance I don't normally possess. I told this to Niki and she said she experienced the same smooth calm, and she said, (paraphrase), "I don't know, I just figured it was another thing to add to the pile. Throw it on, I'll deal with it somehow." Ever since, I've been laughing in my head a little at that sentiment. That's sort of how my year has unfolded: throw it on the pile, I'll get to it. And I know, I know, I know: I don't have it that bad. I've got a fresh start in one of, nay, the best of America's cities. I can afford (somehow, though not in the easiest fashion) to see a weekly therapist who tonight was enlightened to learn that I stopped taking depression medication back in March (oops, I'm always leaving out the important stuff, sorry, Ingrid!) I have an active social life, a gym membership, a neighborhood that kicks all other neighborhoods' asses (sorry, other nabes, I love a lot of you, too, just this one the best!) I've met some incredible souls in my journeys since February. It's getting better all of the time, and each day I wonder how much more I have to see/learn. Suhana's thanks are going to wait for next time. I want to express that I have this ability to swing from one extreme to another quite quickly but I would never, ever, ever self diagnose bipolarity. I think it's more of life appreciation than anything else. My for instance: this coming Saturday I'm attending this massive Literary Pub Crawl in the East Village which is a lot of bars hosting literary-related events. Oh, the thought of it makes me want to sing out! Anyway, one of the events is hosted by three authors, one of the three being an Irish (obsessed, KB wants an Irishman asap) guy who maintains a pretty hilarious website and has since published a book about his Irish Catholic upbringing in Philly. So I've been reading his website and laughing literally out loud (I guess the kids are too cool to do an "LLOL")(uck, "LOL" is the worst, text speak is the grossest thing ever, I want to shoot at text messages that abbreviate to the point of being English Language destructive)(ick) but after enjoying his hilarity I was able to toss a little Glen Hansard into my ears and find the depths of sadness that I know that are enhanced by other sad souls on my way to see Ingrid tonight. I can feel both happy and sad at heightened extremes - while I don't think that that is a bipolar diagnosis in the least bit, I definitely feel sympathy toward those with the disorder, because it's hard enough for me being in control of my version of it (want to laugh? find a funny author. want to cry? throw in some sad tune.) I can't imagine it being involuntary. I will be starting Kristin Hersh's Rat Girl soon, which is the story of her diagnosis as being bipolar along with the discovery she was pregnant all while trying to be a teenager starting a band, so maybe I'll get a better grasp on the disorder from the book. Either way, I am blessed to now not be on medication and to be reigning in my emotions, unlike in the past decade, which found me stumbling over sharp rocks, scraping my feet, bruising my shins.

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