Monthly Archives: June 2014

…where my thought’s escaping…where my music’s playing*

While I never loathed Mondays with the stereotypical passion of a sitcom cliche, I never particularly enjoyed them. But then I got a job doing something I like to do with people whose company I enjoy. On Mondays, everyone is scheduled to work and we usually go out afterwards.

I look forward to coming in and seeing everyone. Truly. While Mondays can be either soul-crushingly busy or mind-numbingly slow, the work to be done is secondary to the company with whom I’m doing it. And for now at least, my attention is focused on the here-and-now. I haven’t done any alternate job-searching, even half-assedly, for almost a year.

Am I growing up and slowly leaving behind my nomadic ways?

It’s strange to think that this might be it for me. That I’ve officially put down roots back in my hometown. That I might not move anywhere else. The permanency is a little anxiety-inducing.

We’ll see, I guess.

*Simon and Garfunkel, 1967


Confidential to BFFF: I wrote this post before you commented on my previous one. ūüė¶

…send up a signal, I’ll throw you the line*

I wrote this about a week ago. I’m going to preface this post by saying I have absolutely no idea where I’m going with this one. It might end up having a point, it might end up just being a brain dump. I almost added a “if I offend anyone, I’m sorry,” but that’s not entirely true. If I offend anyone, well, no one’s putting a gun to your head and telling you to read this. Wait, someone did? Who? What a great friend they are! Tell them thank you! Aw, you guys!

Yesterday, a kid I’ve known since he was 5 years old became a priest in the Catholic church. Okay, so I guess he’s not still technically a¬†kid, but he grew up with my brother and to me my brother will perpetually be about 18 years old, max. Anyway, this morning I went to church with my folks to see him celebrate his first Mass.

I was raised Catholic and attended Catholic school for 13 years. In college, I was part of a smallish group of Catholic students on a predominantly Protestant campus. We didn’t have a Newman Center or anything, but I was basically part of what would be its equivalent. Then a series of things started clicking in my brain and I sort of…stopped. I stopped being Catholic. I stopped being Christian. I stopped being¬†anything.¬†

I could go into detail the deep conversations I’ve had with myself in the intervening years, but I’ll just leave it at this for now: I’m still figuring it out (I think that’s kind of the point, right? But I digress). No way do I consider myself Catholic, and I’m only sort of testing out the “Christian” thing again. So fast forward to this morning. I find myself in the church where I basically grew up, watching a man who I watched grow up, and the whole thing was very moving…and thought-provoking…on so many levels.

Juanita, thankfully, didn’t¬†press the¬†church issue during my most hard-core atheist days. She did, however, make it a point to say she was lighting candles on my behalf when she went each week. Ouch, Mom. She still casually asks if I’d like to join her every once in awhile, in that half-joking-but-not-really-joking way and I half-jokingly-but-not-really-jokingly say no. But for once, when I heard about D’s Mass (dude, am I going to have to start calling him Father So-and-So? No. Freaking. Way), I asked if she was going, and asked if I could come.

I’m certain she stroked out, right there, but God love ‘er, she hid her reaction well.

Honestly, I half-expected some sort of Great Epiphany when I walked inside that church – like I would suddenly be overwhelmed with a feeling of Home and Belonging. Wouldn’t¬†that be poetic? But that didn’t happen. Instead,¬†I superficially participated – but with reverence, of course – and spent a fair amount of time wondering how to gracefully¬†not¬†go¬†up for Communion (a few years ago, I attended a friend’s wedding – we were close during my Super-Duper Catholic years – and I accidentally caused sort of a scene when I didn’t go up and everyone thought I was, like, ill or something). But the time came, and I sort of slipped away, and that was that.

That was that. It was strange participating on a sort of anthropological-observer level in something in which I used to find so much… meaning? importance? comfort? I don’t know the correct word, because I can’t quite recall the feeling.

Like I said, I’m still figuring it out, and I’m honestly enjoying the process and learning a lot of stuff about a lot of stuff. In some ways, it’s good that I went to that Mass. As much as it might kill Juanita, it helped me realize that – at this point in my life – it’s just not what I want. Or maybe even what I need.


*Billy Joel (1977)

rubbed the wrong way.

I like to go out with a group of girlfriends. I like to get dressed up. I like to go dancing.

I like my music loud, but not so loud it almost hurts my ears.
I like to dance like a crazy person, but I don’t like having to dance around a puddle of vomit on the dance floor.
I like to have a couple shots with the girls, but I don’t like being told by some dude that he’s going to buy me 3 more because I’m “too sober” so I must not be having any fun.¬†I doubt he’s¬†genuinely interested in how much fun I’m having.
I like to dance in a group of people, but I don’t like a skeezy guy’s hand rubbing up on my ass “by accident.”
I like to dance with my girlfriends, but I don’t like seeing the look of disgust on my friend’s face when some rando wraps¬†his fucking arms around her waist as her grinds up against her.
I like to meet new people, but I don’t like giving a fake name when someone introduces themselves (okay, scratch that, I like that one).
I like to have a good time, but I don’t like being offered coke in the parking lot.
I don’t like being hollered at¬†as we make our way back to the car.
I don’t like drunk bros staggering behind us, still hollering, as we run-walk back to the car.
I don’t like jumping into the car and scrambling to make sure the doors are locked and peeling out the parking lot.

I don’t like ending what began as an awesome night like that.