brief snapshots in time. memories and thoughts. disorganized and random.

Thursday, September 28, 2006

afraid of my shadow

I've feared things big and small. Worried situations would be uncomfortable. Been scared I couldn't handle certain outcomes.

It was almost paralyzing when I was younger. I used to let these feelings keep me from trying new things, meeting new people. For whatever reason, lately, I've taken to ignoring my fears and worries. And in the end, whether I've been cautious or brave, I've always made it through. At least so far.

This year, I was almost too scared to go to the music festival. My friends had their own things going on. I was staying with a friend of a friend that I didn't know very well. And I wasn't sure how my ankle would fare on the uneven ground with only myself to count on.

When the doctor gave me the slight vote of confidence I needed, I decided to go.

The result?

I got to see my friends more than I ever imagined I would. Spent more quality time with them, than I think I did when they lived there. I gave up seeing a few bands I might have tried to catch otherwise, but hanging out with good friends is so much more important.

The friend of a friend welcomed me into his house with the same fabled southern hospitality that my long-time friend would have, had she not moved away. So hospitable, in fact, I feel I need to thank him with some grand gesture.

But, my ankle and mobility were perhaps my biggest fears. I carried my chair with me everywhere I went and rested my ankle in the middle of the field, when necessary. And I was pleasantly surprised by the accomodations made by perfect strangers for a girl in a cast on one crutch.

I was even included in a surprise birthday party for another friend of my friends. My annual trips to the festival have created almost a home away from home for me. My friends I've met through the ones that used to live there I now count among my own friends.

I may not have gotten to see every band I had hoped to. But as much as I love live music, I love visiting with my friends, both new and old, much more. And between downtown lunches, surprise breakfast movies, and leaving the festival one night early to swim and grab dinner, I think I enjoyed this year's festival more than any other.

And I never mind being proven wrong. Having none of my worries, concerns or fears materialize. Having life show me that I'm stronger and more courageous than I typically believe.

Friday, September 22, 2006

fated to be friends

One of my best friends from college left during our sophomore year, then transferred to a different school. But between late night road trips and boy avoiding hijinks in just a short year and a half we solidified our friendship.

Over the past decade (or so), we’ve been in and out of touch. But it never matters how long it’s been since our last conversation, we always fall right back into easy, real conversation.

Every year before this one, I’d made the rounds visiting my friends in Texas before the festival. This year I knew I couldn’t take all the time off of work. And once I broke my ankle, I didn’t bother insisting anyone drive in to Austin to see me, since I was so unsure whether or not I could go. She was the only one I knew I had to see.

I headed straight to her house from the airport. We talked and talked. For hours. We talked about the little ones, her husband, work, my boy situation. Anything and everything.

She had her second little boy a few weeks ago. And I couldn’t wait to meet him. I’ve now met both of her little ones within their first two months. It may not make sense to anyone else, but I think kids remember you when you meet them when they’re very young. Her oldest always remembers me, even though he’s only seen me a few times since he was three weeks old.

Her parents came by, even after years, they still feel like home away from home to me. In fact it’s our moms’ fault that we’re friends. They met before we ever started college, and they insisted we look each other up when we got to campus. Thankfully we both listened to our moms on that one.

Sometimes things happen for a reason. I believe that. I believe in fate, kismet, whatever you want to call it. Particularly when it comes to my amazingly wonderful friends and how and why they’re all in my life. Now, if I could only believe in the same when it comes to other things.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

time to breathe

No, the heat did not kill me. (Just nearly so.) No, (Jeremy) I didn't injure or re-injure myself. And no, there isn't some fantastic reason I've been ignoring you all.

Just work. And more work. He hasn't even been in town to provide a distraction.

My question is, how does taking a couple of days off create four additional days of work to do? It just doesn't make sense. How can everything go wrong in two short days?

Anyway, now that I've bored you all to tears, I will leave you with a promise. That I will be back as soon as I have time to breathe. Hopefully that will be soon.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

fly south

My friends and family know me well. Sometimes it seems as if they know me better than I know myself.

No one was surprised when I told them today that I had decided to go on my trip. Particularly after they found out what my doc said yesterday. My broken, pinned bone is healing well. So well, in fact, that I no longer have to use the crutches.

Of course, I was just getting really good at getting around on crutches. And now I have to learn to walk* again. But at least I get to go on my trip, and not have to rely too much on anyone to help me out.

I'll be sore. But the doc assured me I can't do any damage. So, now, it's about time for me to fly south.

* And by walk I mean hobble about, with one leg significantly weaker and about 2 inches longer than the other due to the boot.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006


I had hoped M would insist I meet her for the weekend when I talked to her last night. But she didn't. She'll get to see me in a month or so, anyway. And she knows how difficult getting around this weekend on crutches will be. So, I thought, perhaps I won't go.

Then while looking for something else, I found an old Magic 8 Ball, and of course asked it if I should go. It replied, "It is certain." Alright, perhaps I should*.

Then, when I woke up this morning, I decided definitively that I cannot go. My ankle was in excruciating pain. So, I decided I'd have to stay home.

As I was leaving for work, after the pain in my ankle subsided, I read a message which made me think that I should go. Another friend simply stated, I can't wait to see you. That may just be enough.

But, I'm not sure. I'll get to see my other friend next spring, either way. And it would be stupid to go and delay the healing of my ankle, or re-injure it.

Now, I'm back to completely undecided.

So, maybe I'll add all of your opinions to my indecision. Should I fly south to spend three days in the sun listening to good music, getting to see a few great college friends? Or should I play it safe and stay home?

Keep in mind, the festival grounds are huge, and will not be easy to navigate on my crutches. I can't carry much of anything, including luggage or my own drink. And my friends are only going to the festival part of the time, they have family and other obligations to attend to on their visit, as well.

What to do, what to do?

* No, I don't really make any decisions based on a plastic black ball filled with blue water, but the response can be a fun addition to an indecision.

Monday, September 11, 2006


I turned on the radio this morning. They were talking about the terrible day five years ago. Talking to people about where they were, what they were doing. My own memories came back.

I remember hearing the news driving into work. Thinking how could any pilot fly into a building, what kind of mechanical difficulties could possibly result in that. I remember seeing the second plane hit, on the TV at the coffee shop.

And I remember driving home from work. Everything was surreal. It felt like I was the only one on the road. The sign over the highway read something to the effect of "all flights cancelled until further notice."

It sent shivers down my spine. Perhaps it was a bit morbid, but I pulled the car over to take a picture. The company I worked for at the time manufactured the sign.

A police officer pulled over behind me. He asked if I was alright.

The tears streaming down my cheeks gave me away. But I said I was fine. And tried to explain away my strange need to permanently capture the horrific message on the sign.

That morning the office was full of frightening news. Our sales guys were to meet in the World Trade Center that morning.

And my family was panicking. My brother was supposed to be flying from Boston to LA, but nobody knew what time, or what flight.

And my good friend from college and his parents are all pilots. There were e-mails flying around worrying about their safety.

No one could find anyone. For hours.

Finally the news trickled in. The sales guys got an e-mail sent in, luckily they were running late for their meeting, and were on their way when the first plane hit.

My brother called to let us all know that he was supposed to be on a later flight. He and a colleague were renting a car, instead. And my pilot friend finally sent out a note that he and his parents were all safe.

I felt guilty for feeling relief that the people I know were safe. As if people might think I didn't think it was as horrific, since it didn't directly effect me.

Last year, this day felt more reverent (and I was much more eloquent). Today feels like any other day. And it shouldn't. But I don't know how it should be different.

Perhaps just remembering is enough. Remembering the lost souls. Remembering the feeling of five years ago. Remembering those whose lives were and are changed forever.

Thursday, September 07, 2006

dreaming of the future

I keep having this dream. Actually it's not the same. There are variations, but the theme is the same.

In my dream I have gone to a party or a bar with him. The evening always starts out great. But somewhere along the lines I either find him kissing another girl, or getting another girl's number.

It ends with his getting mad at me for being possessive and leaving without me.

Now I really don't think he's going out looking for other girls. I don't think I get jealous easily, at all. And I don't think I always have dreams about the future.

(When I dreamed my neighbor was going to rip up her entire front yard the night before she actually had someone start ripping out her driveway, I was a little disturbed. But those dreams that actually happen aren't that frequent.)

What's bothering me is whether the fact that I've had a similar dream various times means something or not. Am I worried he might cheat? Am I worried I might? Is it my subconscious questioning things I won't allow my conscious to consider?

I really don't know.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006


Even though I needed to stay late at work, I didn't. Sure, that's me, rebellious.

Instead I headed to meet my mom and sister for dinner. Although the appetizer was incredible, the service was terrible, and we didn't even get our main courses before we had to leave.

Instead, we paid and walked across the breezway. (alright, they walked, I crutched.)

Minutes later there was fur flying in the aisles. And the three of us were grinning from ear to ear. I suppose you could say Cheshire Cat grins.

I could vividly remember going to the theater to see the very same musical years ago with my mom, sister and grandma. Long before it celebrated any anniversaries. And it's now celebrating it's 25th.

The evening was intoxicating, despite the rough start. Even more incredible than I remembered. And I had remembered the songs. Even though I don't think I've heard any but the most famous one since I was a teenager.

Odd what the memory keeps locked away.

At dinner and after the show, I ingested more caffeine than I have in over a month, since before my surgery. I had to finish the work before tomorrow somehow.

And now, instead of sleep, all I want to do is sing and stretch. (I have to draw the line at cleaning behind my ears with my paws.)

But sleep must come. I must remind myself, I'm not really a nocturnal cat, but a girl with a meeting in the morning.

... When the dawn comes
tonight will be a memory too
and a new day will begin...

Monday, September 04, 2006

slowly creeping in

I'm not usually a grumpy person. But lately I can't seem to shake this underlying feeling of blah.

I'm frustrated. Fall* is my favorite season. And the weather's been perfect here. Clear crisp days. Perfect, almost cool, autumn nights.

I want to go for bike rides, walk the dog, rollerblade, or hike to see the soon-to-be changing aspen leaves.

But I can't. And I won't be able to, not before fall ends.

The big black boot on my left ankle will remain there for weeks still. It will be cold, and possibly snowing before I will be able to walk somewhat normally again.

I hate to complain after a great birthday celebration surrounded by friends. But even that, the show at red rocks, and the fiesta were tainted.

The thing is, I'm not really me when I'm on crutches. I am forced to be more or less sedentary. And I'm not. I usually can't sit still.

And I hate having to rely on people. Even those closest to me. My sister to get me upstairs to bed after shots of Patron on my birthday. My mom to do simple household chores for me. Him to carry my plate at the party.

And I hate the thought of canceling my trip next week to see great friends and good music. The practical side of me isn't sure I can make it. But the stubborn, I-can-do-anything, side still thinks I can go.

I can't decide. Ultimately, the doc has the final word. But I hate the defeatist feeling that is slowly creeping in, telling me to stay safe, to stay home. I hate the grumpy edge I've taken on lately. And most of all, I hate the blah.

* I know, technically it's still late summer, but the weather has been distinctly fall-like.