beginning to see the light ...

I heard the news slowly trickle throughout the day.  Lou Reed died today.  This has always been one of my favorite songs, from the first time I heard it as I picked through old record stores:



I also have this strange connection to 'Walk on the Wild Side' as I landed in France for the first time when I was 18 and the first English I heard was this song blaring on the car radio.  It opened up a strange new world for me.  Funny how one single song can do that to ya.

I forever wonder and ponder and gaze out as life escapes us and hope the departed can feel all our love.

'How does it feeeel to be loooo-ooooved?'

??

Come dancing...

So in an effort to combat boredom and general malaise, I have been concentrating efforts on getting more active in any way I can.  Sometimes it's as simple as walking briskly a mile or two after work instead of relying on the bus.  Other times it's throwing some paint on a canvas, even if I don't have a clear vision of my next project.  I've also been immersing more in my French language studies, translating letters and sometimes just flipping to random pages in my big ass Larousse dictionnaire.

But my favorite new endeavor is DANCING.  I've been trying for months to gather some friends to go dancing with me and everyone appears to be 'too old to be out late' or 'it's a school night' or they just simply aren't interested.  So I gathered up some younger coworkers and took them to an old school club.  I stayed out dancing last night til 3:30 am!  And it felt so good!  I no longer care about 'being cool' or 'image' or being approached by pushy strangers.  I just wanted to dance, dammit.  And I found the perfect place to do so.  No inhibitions, just a crowd of people (yes, even an older crowd) who just simply love the music as I do and want to let off some steam.  Of course there are always a few assholes in the bunch who just like to go around and laugh at people but the difference now is I just don't care about those jerks anymore.  They're the weak fools with their own dumb issues and simply put: They Suck.  There were some older maniac dancers and plenty of idiots making fun of them.  I'm now that person who will go join the maniac dancers and JUST DON'T CARE.  Beat on the brat with a baseball bat, I say.

So what can I say.  I am embracing my freakiness and finding great comfort in being unique.  It's a good thing, for sure.

I am also happy to say I have been working hard on kicking myself free from several years of Ativan.  I struggled immensely for the past two months.  With the exception of one dose one week ago to alleviate insomnia and terrible dizziness, I have NOT relied on that damn pill that was WRONGLY DIAGNOSED  to me long term for the past three years.  With the help of my oldest dearest friend (who is a nurse) I am learning more about diet and essential oils.  Slowly but surely, things are turning around.

This requires a song clip, but there are so many I just don't know which one to choose.

Creepy Captcha

So I was curious about tickets for an upcoming musician's show in a few months and decided to see what seats were available.  When the Captcha test box popped up to determine if I was a computer bot or not, guess what CREEPY words popped up for me to type?

Manslaughter CSOOpera

WTF?  I ain't going to that creepy show now!

Am I paranoid?  Perhaps.  But I have a right to be.  This particular musician has a really fucking creepy little "world" surrounding him.

I am just going to laugh about it for the time being.

musical interludes

Wish I were in Paris.

http://youtu.be/uYTl1YA_uHQ

it's been twenty years....

Happy October.  My brother is in Europe and I am sitting back in the Midwestern United States of America arranging all his meetings with our family in France.  Mon oncle Marcel has left us, and I am so sad I was unable to see him one last time.  My family in France is half of my heart, and the distance is a little less severe with technology and international texting, but when those big life moments come up...je suis si triste.

I've been yanked by others on facebook to start coordinating our 20 year high school reunion.  I can't decide if it's something I want to do.  It might be nice to see where everyone's lives have taken them, but there are a few, well okay ONE person I do not want to see.  Stupid first boyfriend.  When I look back at high school, it was actually rather dark.  He was crazy, manic depressive, violent.  Makes me shudder to think back at certain moments.  And while it all happened over twenty friggin years ago, it took me quite some time to come to terms with those first experiences with 'love.'  So I guess as long as HE doesn't show up, I'll go.  Or not.  I just don't know.  I have the GOOD things from high school still in my life....very much alive and present and joyous.  My best girlfriends, my BFFs I think is what you call those gals....and my high school art teacher.  I get together with her every so often.  All these years later her critiques of my A-/B+ art projects live on as I sit at each canvas.  Funny how those people become part of your lives forever and ever.  Our graduating class is quite something.  Nearly 300 out of a class of 394 have expressed interest.  We are scattered across the USA and our Homecoming Queen is living in Casablanca.  A pair of high school sweethearts moved to LA after graduating and both are now retired porn stars.  Some are already grandparents.  Some are aspiring actors, housewives, veterinarians, engineers, teachers, tattoo artists, journalists, nurses and so on and so forth.  Me, I'm just me.  Shopgirl who rides lots of buses and wears her headphones as her best companion.  I dunno, we shall see where these reunion plans take us.  I guess I have a little time to think about it.

Oh, high school.  The Beastie Boys, Kurt Cobain's death, alternative music, scandalous high school news stories that made Chicago news, Madame N'est-ce Pas, red slushies and waffle fries for lunch, gossip, sharing lockers, riding the bus for an hour, running around in cornfields, first jobs at the mall, hanging out at Denny's.  Crazy that two decades have past. 

when the music fills your soul....

So I ventured out to this year's Riot Fest in Humboldt Park on Saturday.  I tried and tried to get someone to go with me, yet all I could find were former young coworkers going with tons of their BFFs to watch all the young(er) bands.  So my husband dropped me off and I went, IN THE POURING RAIN, all by myself.

And I actually had an awesome time.

I got there just in time to watch Peter Hook & the Light perform a Joy Division set.  The rain was not subsiding so I pushed my way up front (which I haven't done in years!) and thoroughly enjoyed those old songs I have always loved so well.  He sounded just like Ian Curtis singing...it was really impressive.  I can never get enough of Joy Division music.  And the feelings I got when I wandered around Manchester, UK back in the days of a Mancunian boyfriend.  Someone in the audience even held up an I (heart) MCR sign.  Great start to the day....

After the set I explored the grounds a bit.  Things were already starting to become a mud pit early on.  But once a girl scout, always a girls scout.  I was equipped with my shiny black hooded raincoat, a scarf I wore like a baboushka, and my Eiffel Tower rain boots.  There was a RIOT stage, ROCK stage, ROOTS, RISE and REBEL.  Carnival rides.  Food and beverages galore.  Circus freaks.  Punks.  Hot Topic kids.  Wandering circus performers.  Steampunk wind-up dolls.  And rain.  Buckets of rain.

I headed back up front for Bob Mould.  I have always loved everything from Husker Du to Sugar and everything in between and after.  I recently picked up his autobiography and will get around to reading it one of these days.  He was awesome.  He realized into about the fourth song that he had tons more to do in a set amount of time and so he just ripped through every song, one after the other after the other without even coming up for air.  It was awesome.

I glopped my way through the mud over to see Best Coast.  (I just made up the word glopped, as that's how it felt walking through the mudpits as they got deeper and deeper with each inch of rain that accumulated.)  Caught the tail end and the boyfriend song.  Cute.  I love those guys.

My older brother finally made it in from Milwaukee and I met up with him as Rocket From the Crypt took the stage.  I hadn't thought about them since seeing them on 120 Minutes back in the nineties.  They were a powerhouse!  And absolutely hilarious.  And they wore matching ensembles.  The crowds were starting to pick up....

Chowed on some curry fries and watched the Suicidal Tendencies....wandered around for awhile observing some of the younger bands I didn't really know much about.  It was definitely an awakening at how old I felt.  Watched AFI, surrounded by kids who were at the age in which I could potentially be the same age as their parents.

I was torn on whether or not to watch the Pixies and then head over for the Replacements.  I love the Pixies, but I was really set on watching those wacky Replacements.  The Replacements!!!  We decided to move up close for the Replacements while the Pixies performed their set.  Chowed on a $12 Polish Plate and stood in a big massive crowd for about an hour.  Couldn't really hear much Pixies except for a muted Wave of Mutilation as I stood in a big long line for the port o potties.  The adoring Replacements fans were pretty intense.  People had traveled to Chicago from all over the place to see them.  They were selling $10 foam middle fingers that spotted the crowd.  The guys took the stage after 9pm and were as amazing as you could imagine them to be.  And hilarious!  Paul Westerberg went over to the guitarist and told him to fix his fucking guitar so he didn't sound like the fucking Cure!  Or something like that.  Hahaha.  So funny.  They played stuff somewhat chronologically.  Punks to melodic, catchy tunes.  Everybody sang along.  I was beaming a big old smile by the end of the night and got on the El completely covered in mud.  I had music just roaring in my head....singing all my favorite songs from so many of my favorite musicians loudly in my own head.

I played some more music on the stereo when I got home and raved on and on to my husband about how much fun I had.  I told him every little detail and how amazing everyone sounded.  I was absolutely gushing and he just quietly turned to me and said, "I guess I just don't love music in the same way that you do."  How could anyone not be as impassioned about music as I am?  I don't know...I can't find the words for it.  But it absolutely amazes, confounds, brings me such joy and resonance.  I may have been alone in that crowd but as soon as the music starts I just don't feel even the slightest glimpse of loneliness.  I LOVE MUSIC.  What can I say...

And even a few days later, it's all still swirling around my head.

Writing frankly about depression...

I recognize the patterns of my "illness" more than I have in the past nowadays.  I just get so damn frustrated because I cannot tell what is happening organically and what are just byproducts of all these damn pills.  I had to get off one that was giving me panic attacks, but in order to do this, I had to increase my dosage on a different pill because the withdrawal symptoms were just terrible.  I've been working with doctors and have been doing everything with their supervision.  Mostly because the very last place I ever want to go is that damn hospital.  Those hospitals CAUSE PTSD!!  I am now working with my doctor to slowly taper off my bloody seroquel and it's brutal.  I've never abused street drugs but I imagine coming off of some of those things is what getting off some of these psychiatric drugs might be like.  Simultaneously, I am also trying to kick Ativan but I can't seem to go three days without popping one before bed.  Ugh.  One acquaintance even told me her old roommate had to go to rehab to get off prescribed medications.  It's ALL SO DAMN DEPRESSING!

Without even opening up about my personal experiences, my new coworkers are all taking assorted psychiatric drugs and have had all sorts of troubles and hospitalizations as well!  WHY AREN'T MORE PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT THIS STUFF?!?!

Ugh, I get so frustrated.  Part of me wants to jump in and help....volunteer...speak about my experiences...ANYTHING.  But the other part of me still can't figure out just what is RIGHT in this big mess that is the mental health field.  Do I believe in the pills?  Not at the moment.  Do I believe in psychotherapy?  Yes, to a certain extent.  But I think one needs to take a breather from it, too, at times.  I seem to have the same talk over and over again lately...to try for another pregnancy or not?  It's heavy heavy HEAVY in my heart, mind, body and soul.  I guess a 37th birthday can do that to a woman. Men are lucky that way....they can just go out and find a younger woman...

BLAH.  Anyway....

My sleep is not good.  I have crazy dreams that make me feel panicked while I'm asleep.  One is a recurring theme that I can't keep my college class schedule straight and I keep walking into the wrong lecture hall at the wrong time.  The other is a second job that I keep forgetting to go to.  Sometimes they get crazy and more crazy.  So trippy I can't even remember.  I vaguely remember one about not having a valid passport to leave the country and some office assistant was trying to expedite it for me.  I woke up thinking, "OH MY GOD!  I REALLY DO NEED TO GET A NEW PASSPORT!" and even took the next step to see what I had to do to go about getting a new one.  But I put it on the back burner because I don't have any friggin' vacation days to use and it will be a long time before I do again.

Sigh.  Those moments when REALITY stunts one's creative ability to escape through writing, painting and crafts are among the most sensitive.  When one's 'fuel' overcomes him or her...that's when it's most difficult.

Life is hard.  That's about all I have to say right about now.

Joyeux anniversaire....

Well I made it.  Made it to 37 years old.  Life has been nothing of what I thought it might be but it's not all that bad.  I have a roof over my head, food to eat, family and friends who love me, and a full time job.  I wish I had money to travel a bit more, didnt have to deal with depression and swallow pills everyday, and could lose all this weight I've put on, but I'm working on those things.

I was able to forget my stressors for a few days and celebrated for four days in a row!!

Day 1:  The parents drove up and we visited a new shopping center and I found some treats.  Went to the casino and enjoyed four miniature desserts at the buffet.  I sat down with my dad and gave him $1 bill to play in a quarter slot machine and he won $112!

Day 2:  The mister had the day off work and we did all our favorite things...went to the used book/music store, saw a movie, shopped and dined at Lou Malnati's aka Best Pizza in the Nation.

Day 3:  After work, dined on chicken pot pie in Wicker Park.

Day 4:  After work, sampled assorted beers and ate The Big Cheezy burger at my favorite Lincoln Square joint.  And ten minutes into our meal, a couple was seated next to us and it was my old coworker friend whom I hadn't seen in six years!  Lovely dinner together.

And voilá!  On a bien fêté!

I sometimes wish life could be more exciting or something.  But c'est la vie.  I can't always take five months off from life and wander around Paris.  But I am so glad i did just that when I could, so that on those 'boring' days i have memories to last toujours...

Impressionism, Fashion, and Modernity

I spent the most lovely afternoon at the Art Institute, hopping around to visit some of my old faves and taking a peek at the Impressionism, Paris, Fashion, etc exhibition which is going on through September.  I usually shy away from the big blockbuster shows because it's usually so crowded one can't even get close enough to read the curatorial blurbs about the artworks.  But I packed all my patience and curiosity to weave through the crowds and enjoyed it all so much.  I absolutely fell in love with this one:

http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Shop_Girl_(Tissot)

....because there is so much going on, so many stories and sights to take in every day while keepin' shop.  It makes me smile when I encounter a painting that looks back at me like a mirror of sorts.

I remember visiting a museum in Rouen while I was staying there for a few months and catching my first glimpse of the old corsets made of iron. Quelle horreur!!  What various degrees of beauty we surpass over the eras...and how do these trends even begin?  How did the corsets and bustles aesthetics come to fruition?  Did it start in an instant with one very first painting depicting this new found 'beauty' in its image?  Especially after an era of the more 'plump' and natural images of women were recreated in paintings for so many years before?  It's just amazing to me how sometimes what seems such a superficial fashion trend can depict so much more as you start to discuss and peel away the layers...

I cannot comprehend all the modern fashion trends and the rage...the sensation...that they all create.  I look at fashion magazines and see clips of the runway.  I don't always get the appeal.  And I am certain I am not alone in this thought.  My very first trip I took by myself to Paris as a teen opened my eyes to a whole new idea of expressing oneself through individual style.  I remember standing in line in Passeport Controle at Orly and Betsey Johnson was standing next to me.  I remember the Parisian girl my age directing me to the baggage claim turnstyle and her red patent leather platforms.  Fashion is such a small detail in the big grand scheme of life and all things of utmost importance....but it certainly blends together to help create an experience.

Le mois d'aout

It's the second day of August, and summer is flying by so fast.  I've been working a lot, spending a lot and walking a lot.  Actually, I'm not spending nearly as much as other people i know, but for me, it's substantial.  I purged lots of old clothes and am making room for the new.  I got a raise and a promotion, so really I ought to be smart and save save save.  But I guess it's been a while since I've been able to treat myself and so I am doing just that.

Hello green Fly London wedges!  Minnetonka fringe sandals!  Caroline Gardner reed diffuser!  Skunkfunk bag!  Orla Kiely book bag!  Thrift store books!  Criterion movies!  Oh me oh me oh my!  Can I just say that everything but the Fly Londons were deeply discounted?

I took a stroll downtown today, fighting all the crowds from that big old three-day music festival that hits Chicago each summer.  I remember when that L word festival was truly an alternative outing during the oh so alternative nineties.  My how things have changed. I was talking to a younger employee the other day about the olden days.  Haha.  It's funny that I've reached that point in my life where the youngins ask me questions about those days of yore...

I had an enjoyable day at that other three day music festival that hits Chicago each summer.  The P one. I was surprised to discover how much I thoroughly enjoyed hearing The Breeders perform the 1993 album Last Splash.  Took me back.

Happy August.