Sunday, September 27, 2009

MAKE SHIT HAPPEN, or live off of Easy Mac forever.

Life on the road- Oh Lord, I HAVEN'T HAD INTERNET SINCE I WROTE THE LAST POST, right? HELL. Horrible hell.

As many of your know, I'm on the road with my band, we're playing the shit out of Seattle and I'm writing via recording studio at the moment. Fancy tunes we're playing...fancy, fancy.

It's amazing when you force four people to be together 24/7 for nearly three weeks. There's been great moments, moments where I've had to exercise great restraint to not throw a few punches, a few unexpected tears and run-ins.

The moment finally came when I had to see the ex, after the last incident a little over a year ago, where I ended up crying so hard I hyperventilated and got mascara smeared all the way to my knees- which obviously means I was CRYING CURLED IN A BALL, which is just, pathetic. I did the BIG thing and went to his show here in Seattle to see parts of his dreams being realized, and genuinely, am happy that he's doing it. We were civil. It didn't make me want to run in front of a moving truck, on the highway- so, that's a good thing. Whether or not he'll return the same care and come to one of my shows, remains to be seen.....but why should I care right?......I do though. I want him to see me happy, flourishing, expressing. We're all human that way- we want to prove something when we haven't had the chance to.

ALSO, ran into the girl who he left me/left her for me for several times- that was a fantastic trip to Awkwardville. I get it, she had good hair. Girls with good hair always win. Though, I have to say- we were similar, I believe our closets probably look the same, we have the same taste in music, margaritas and men- so we can't be that much different. If anything, I have more compassion for her situation now than I did- now that I'm happy and in love. I hate her less- or, not at all actually- she probably cried just as much as I did curled into a little ball, her heart probably hurt just as much as mine did. So, we've at least got that much in common- not to mention the shared penis. But that goes without saying. I just like saying penis.

This entire trip has been a test in compassion really. Patience. A test in faith and confidence. The universe gives you those, "HOW MUCH DO YOU REALLY WANT THIS" moments and we have to act. decide. and toughen up. Even when you're playing to empty rooms and you're negative zero dollars since leaving home, and if you eat another fruit snack you'll fucking die.
We all do really interesting things when we're in a place of desperation. I'm learning to understand that about people......

Some of us like bagels in the morning, others need bacon. I'm learning I'm a snobby traveler- I like eating out, shopping, going to museums and spending money on sparkly drinks and appetizers with truffle oil. Some of us prefer to site see- others prefer to sleep. Some of us buckle under the pressure of MAKING THINGS HAPPEN, others thrive under it. Some of us act like CHILDREN when we're faced with adversity and some of us throw on our sunglasses and hide behind the facade of "bad ass." Either way.....we all DEAL differently.

I would also like to mention that while on the road, I lost one of my MAIN sources of income-How am I dealing? Well after I kicked some shit around and cried into my coffee cup- I said, must mean the World is giving way for something EVEN MORE FUCKING WONDERFUL. Like, Lady Gaga and I becoming friends and tripping on an oil well in my backyard.

.....More stories to come later.



Sunday, September 13, 2009

I broke my vagina.

My vagina broke.

Temporarily. PHEW. We can all stop crying for me now.

"Baby!!!! BABY!!!!" I scream at My Love as he's upstairs painting.

"I BROKE MY VAGINA! I CAN'T WALK!" sheer terror followed by moaning, whimpering, fake-cry noises and frenetic spewing of disconjointed words, "never. sex. die. pregnant? sharp. frozen dinner. can't. move."

....Let me rewind, here's what happened:

Early Friday morning we notice that we were out of coffee, so I, being the loving and willing girlfriend said I'd go to the store to pick some up- let's be real, I am not a nice person without coffee in my bloodstream. After a morning quickie, I threw on my moo-moo (i.e. baggy Forever 21 dress that doesn't give me shape, but makes me calves look exceptionally thin) and hurried off to the store.

....midway between isle 7 and isle 12 where I was vacillating over Columbian coffee or something fancy like Creme Brulee flavored, I felt a SHARP. INTENSE. SHOOTING PAIN. IN MY VAGINA. I thought, "Hm, odd? Well, I should go grab a couple frozen dinners since I'm too broke to buy ingredients for REAL FOOD. And maybe a block of cheese. Ooh and some candy corn! Weeeee life!"

I shuffle off to Isle 10, moo-moo following behind me (there's a three second delay between your body and the movement of a moo-moo).....where my anticipation of grabbing a Lean Cuisine was interrupted by a rush of heat and blurred vision. I pay for the coffee and rush heels on fucking FIRE all the way home......

this is when the panic sets; OH HOLY GOD, I MUST BE ONE OF THE PEOPLE WHO DOESN'T KNOW THEY'RE PREGNANT AND THEN A BABY PLOPS OUT WHILE THEY'RE STOPPED AT A RED LIGHT. Oh Jesus. Hm, what would I name her? Yes, my non-existent first born is a her. Would I have to cut the umbilical chord with my teeth?! Fuck. fuck.
What if there's no sex ever again in my life? I've peaked and plunged to hell.

These are the panicked thoughts I had; fuck, If a baby appears My Love and I would have to fashion baby clothes out of hand-me-down sheets since we're too broke, and oh GOD, what if I have to deliver in a bathtub?! MAKE IT STOP!

The pain got progressively worse with each step. So what did we do? We Googled it. THEN, we called my MOTHER, " vagina is attacking me."

After searching and taking a shitload of Advil- it turns out it was some sort of MUSCULAR nerve thing? It can happen to anyone, anytime. WOMEN BEWARE.

So what did I do all weekend? I lay on the couch IMMOBILE from VAGINAL PARALYSIS. I could barely take a step without feeling the shooting pain (men I assume the pain is very similar to getting racked?) Turns out, there's a correlation between vaginal pain, immobility and binge eating. I nursed my vajay backed to health all weekend with Chinese food, pizza-extra pineapple, strawberry icecream, Dateline, Say Yes to the Dress and My sweet, sweet Love who loved me despite my inability to have sex with him, loved me anyway.

After the PANIC subsided and there was wine/food/terrible pop culture in my belly, My Love says, "Baby, how great, you got to say your favorite word (Vagina) about a million times this weekend."


Vagina, VaJAYJAY, Coochie, what do you call it??

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Time is a stingy whore.

Time is escaping me. Completely running through my fingertips like powdered sugar. MMM....sugar.

Time is running away from me like I'm a butcher knife wielding mad man, with it's heels on fire. You get the idea... it's been 10 days! 10 days since my last post and the past 10 days are a blur of apartment hunting, rehearsal, entirely too much fucking coffee, sparkling conversations, scheduling and finalizing, budgeting and spending, then.... a little bit of weed and beer. Hey, it was a long weekend? It's semi-excusable....

"Babe, our youth is just evading us...." My Love says as we stumble into Starbucks for a scone to soak up the lingering alcohol swimming in our Labor less tummies. Is it escaping us, or are we using it the way we should? We stay up. We do exercise. We pack hour-to-hour FULL until we feel like crying because we're so swamped, simply because we still have ENERGY to. We take life by the horns and shake it like a baby. We rough stuff up. We bruise and caffeinate and run on empty. We overbook and under eat. We say "yes" and sacrifice our sleep.

.... I pack EVERYDAY with as much as possible and it still isn't enough time.

I get a hair cut, then my bangs have grown out. I take an extra hour to rest and the alarm is accosting me. I give myself two weeks and need three. We're talking about Halloween and November, January and Spring break vacations. All of a sudden there just isn't a NOW, there's only a later....

Yesterday I was wide eyed and limitless, no strings attached, weightless and completely full of TIME. Time to explore, time to get on track with "the timeline" naturally after I wore myself into the pavement with stories in my pockets and holes in the soles of my shoes. The thing is, I just didn't realize that I'd be there at the natural timeline, NOW.

I have plans now. I'm booked. There's an itinirary and there's expectations....there's goals with dates attached to them and a heart that's invested too. Plans become a lot more fucking important when your hearts involved.

Just for today, I don't want TIME to control me. I want to be in the time that I have so that I don't wonder where it went when it's gone.

No watches, no deadlines. I want to let go of the "have-to-dos" and tell everything to just SLOW DOWN.....or wait for me. To let it all "pan out." Be the way it will be, without my knuckles turning white from my tight grip on the reigns of my "Life Car" going a million miles an hour, in a convertible (things seem faster in convertibles no?)

I want time to finish my coffee, to read my book, to stay in bed with My Love. To check off everything on my list. to To get there without feeling rushed. To walk in the grass. To make new friends. TO DO IT ALL. To research and learn. To write and let creativity come naturally. To decide without pressure. To eat meals in courses. To make a cheesecake. To enjoy the process instead of getting intimidated by it. To digest and to meditate. To BREATHE. Annnnnd.... to pluck my eyebrows in a magnifying mirror.


Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Cohabitation isn't a very SEXY word.

The boy and I are moving in together. Oh yes, it's time.

We've been together almost a year- who would've thought a little over a year ago when I was in Europe whizzing around on a Vespa through the tiny streets, alongside the canals of Amsterdam with a Dutch gift shop employee- who sold me tiny Dutch clogs and later gave me an unofficial tour The Red Light District, etc. etc. (you can guess how the story unfolds), that I would be HERE. In love. Touring with a band. And looking into cute Denver lofts. And, thinking about diamond engagement rings.... eek!

"At least when I'm being a punk ass I'll have a comfy couch to sleep on...." says My Love after telling him about the ORGASMICALLY COMFORTABLE COUCH that he will be inheriting once all of my belongings are shipped from LA (where they've been for two years in storage) to our soon-to-be abode. Not only will he be inheriting my things, but we'll be inheriting everything GOOD AND BAD about each other.....

The best part; I'm not nervous. Not at all. It feels like the perfect natural progression for our relationship- in fact, had he asked me even three months after we'd been together to marry him, or elope to the Caribbean and get married on the beach in front of drunk tourists sipping Mai Tai's I would've done it. That's how perfectly in line living together feels.

There will be times when I want to shake him ferociously because he'll leave every cabinet in the kitchen open, or because he forgets to flush the toilet every morning after brushing his teeth. I'm certain I'll be irritated when his farts overwhelm the smell of the fresh basil I'm cooking with, and I'll want to vomit and there will be days when I want to box his face.

He'll be annoyed that I have "organized clutter," or that I'm a compulsive list-maker and that I throw a five year old fit every time there isn't yogurt in the fridge, or chilled wine to accompany my dinner. There will be times when he's disgusted with how much I care about reality television and there will be times when I express NO sympathy every time he locks himself out of the house- because he's lost his keys for the 20th time. Make that every time.

But really... I just can't wait for the anticipation of him walking in the door after we've been apart all day. I can't wait to sleep better because he's next to me. I can't wait to spend our "down time" together, when we're both just existing- reading, sitting, chatting wrapped up in eachother's energy and worn sweatpants. I can't wait to grocery shop and have laundry mat dates with Scrabble and Americanos, or cook bland pasta recipes for dinner every week until it's flavorful enough.

I can't wait to pick out paint swatches or roam through lofts waiting for that "feeling" that we've picked The Right One. I can't wait to hang up pictures, lift fragile things and tear open boxes, to throw out old memories that no longer serve us and create new ones together. Old mattresses? To the dumpster they go.

I can't wait to create a home with the person I love the most, because FINALLY I'll have the first home that feels like my own since childhood.

My morning coffee will finally be strong enough- he always knows how much to brew and we'll undoubtedly always have BACON. Which, let's be frank, bacon is the way to a man's soul and is the way to my libido. So, double score for us both. On that note- the sex. more. sex. loud, shameless- no-worries-of-roommates-intruding, sex.

I didn't think I would be here a year ago. I didn't think I would have been here in two years even. Isn't that funny?

Life throws you plans better than you imagined for yourself when you aren't expecting it. I'd also like to make a side note to "life" that I'd appreciate them keeping a baby out of the "plan" for at least 7 more years. And while I'm at it, "life" can you avoid throwing me weight gain, stretch marks, inconvenient zits, traffic jams, explosions, midget nightmares and unexpected bills as well? Thanks you're a doll.

I can't wait because sometimes I love him so much that my heart is ready to combust- and if my heart is going to combust I better have someone who wants to take care of me nearby.