Lydia

91x365
I love our cocktail conversations. Some think you’re mean and crazy; I think you’re a sweet, highly intelligent, eccentric academic. And I feel like I just might want to grow up to be a little like you.

John K.

90x365
How long are you out of jail for this time? Try not to violate your parole again okay? I didn’t like it when the police descended upon my house looking for you that time. It was scary.

Ilsa

89x365
Sorry if my music is too loud. But then again, I put up with constant doors slamming and nonstop ins and outs, so I think we’re even. It was weird when you hugged me after Alex died.

Fran

88x365
I’m really sorry about that whole “Wow, you got your teeth fixed!” thing. I guess I didn’t think it was an insult at the time. I was just surprised…and they really did look good, dentures or not.

Christopher

87x365
D’oh, heh? C is for laap! Who baynest! Beud about little Hejnu! Condolums! Famlums! Mmnnnyeeesss! It’s a testament to our friendship that we have entire conversations consisting of noises, yet understand each other perfectly. I love you.

Mike M.

86x365
I liked you the minute I met you. I wish I could do more for our group, but I know you understand and appreciate what I can do. You’re phenomenal that way (and in many others, too).

Jenn

85x365
What is there to say about someone you’ve known for 22 years? “Blessed” is the only word I can come up with for what it means to have you as a friend. You’re the truest person I know.

Veronica

84x365
I’ve always been drawn to bass players. I don’t know what it is. But you’re pretty cool, and a really nice person on top of it. I’m glad I’ve gotten to know you in the recent past.

Molly

83x365
You comforted me as I lay sobbing over Alex’s body. You gave me a sympathy card. Six months prior to that, you were doing everything in your power to get me fired. Seriously, that’s pretty fucked up.

Niki

82x365
Remember how Gene called me your “wife?” I loved those marathon phone calls that lasted into the morning. Last I heard you’d lost your mind. We were so close, and now I don’t even know if you’re alive.

Puneet

81x365
The truth is that I didn’t trust you at first. But then I realized it was just the situation that made me uneasy. But I’m glad it worked out, and glad Colleen married you instead of Russ.

Aunt Margaret

80x365
You saw the truth, and your love and caring have meant so much. Thank you for being the kindest person I know. Also, your patience with #79 is amazing. You should just tell her to simmer down.

Kathleen

79x365
You are completely insane. I don’t think you understand that the world doesn’t revolve around you, it doesn’t stop turning when you show up, and it does not owe you a fucking sandwich. Please just chill out!

Maggie

78x365
When you got engaged, I was excited for you. When you bought your house I was thrilled for you. You are genuinely one of my favorite people, and I’m really enjoying watching it all come together for you.

AJ

77x365
You made the best chicken sandwiches, and cheaper than the guy on the next block. Sometimes you gave us free food, and we gave you a break on produce. I still thought you were kind of smarmy.

Wild Man Dave

76x365
You let me sit in the cab of a semi you were working on once. I only met you a few times, but I thought you were cool. I sometimes wish you were still dating my mom.

Karen

75x365
More than ten years later, I still cry about the breakup sometimes. Not because I miss him, but because I would have really loved to have you as my mother-in-law. I like that we’ve kept in touch.

Mike E.

74x365
When my mom told me about the murders, I didn’t expect to hear your name in there. Sorry you met with such a horrible fate. You were a jackass, but you didn’t deserve to die like that.

A.B.

73x365
It’s funny to me that you seem to have the same issues with everyone no matter where you go. And yet you still proclaim yourself a victim of everyone else’s shortcomings. Ever think it might be you?

Pittsburgh Dave

72x365
You probably had no idea that I called you “Amazing Dave.” That’s okay, because by the last time I saw you, I didn’t think you were so amazing. In fact you annoyed the shit out of me.

Justin J.

71x365
Being your “partner in crime” was pretty fun. You made me laugh, but most of all you made me forget my age. Sorry about that whole bandaid thing. I didn’t know Stan would go off like that.

Mobe

70x365
You were enormous, but your ego was even bigger. The truth was that you had to compensate for the fact that you were a really lousy lover, and you knew it. You didn’t fool me at all.

Ronnie

69x365
I saw you sitting at our kitchen table, your head bent over a cup of coffee. My mom told me that you were drunk and your parents wouldn’t let you in. That used to happen a lot.

Pat K.

68x365
We sold ski masks. I put one on and stood at the service desk window. You screamed and we nearly died laughing. That was in the days before you could get in trouble for such a thing.

Staci

67x365
You pretended to be so concerned about me, proffered to have my best interests at heart. But all along you were looking for me to screw up. I missed you until I found out you’d done that.

Jimmer

66x365
You’re a nice enough guy, and you mean well, but I just don’t have the patience sometimes. Even still, the effort is certainly appreciated, and that was awfully nice of you to remember my birthday last year.

August

65x365
You were so condescending, following me around like you thought I’d steal something. Then I addressed you by name at C’s opening, and you changed. So did your hair - it’s huge (completely unrelated events, of course).

Liz H.

64x365
I think it’s pretty cool that you maintain such patience with me, despite the fact that I’m probably the biggest waste of time you’ve ever taught. But I have fun trying anyway, and I enjoy your company.

Quincy

63x365
The sexual tension between us was all too obvious. But even after I quit the job and it was no longer an issue, I still don’t think it would’ve been a good idea to act on it.

Love is all around us...and it f***ing sucks!

Caution: Relatively profane post. You have been warned.

So much for this being my Best Year Ever. It's done nothing but suck since the stroke of midnight on January 1st. Seriously, what is wrong with people? What is wrong with me?

Next month is February. February means Valentine's Day. Fuck that shit. Every year I put together the "Single Girls' Night Out" on V-Day where I get a bunch of single girl friends together and we go out and do something fun. One year it was dinner, drinks, and karaoke. One year it was just dinner. Last year it was improv comedy. I will be doing it again this year, for its fourth annual occasion. And while thinking about what to do this year, I started feeling a little pissy. Why is it that FOUR YEARS in a row now I've had to do this? And even before the Single Girls' Night Out inception, Valentine's Day held very little water. The year before I started doing it I was involved in a shaky long-distance thing. The year before that I was single. The year before that I was single. And the year before that...I was single. In fact I haven't had an actual Valentine since 2001 (Hi Tim, I know you're reading this - see? I remembered). So, with the exception of one lousy/questionable year in 2004 when I didn't even get a phone call so I'm not even sure whether to count it or not, it's been SEVEN years since I've had anyone "special" to celebrate Valentine's Day with.

Okay, say what you want about the commercialization and Hallmarked bastardization of the holiday, but you have to remember that I am a romantic. And a hopeless one at that. I cry at weddings of people I don't even know. I cry at sappy movies. I cry at church. I cry at fucking theatre curtain calls, fercripessake. I'm very easily emotionally overwhelmed, and I'm a little fragile at times.

It's getting harder and harder, though, to not be bitter and barmy, full of venom and bile as I walk through the stores and am bombarded with stupid red and pink lacy displays, and the word "love" thrown into my path in 4-foot high letters. It's getting more and more pitiful each time I throw down ten bucks for another bouquet of Gerberas for myself. Every movie I watch with just my cats for company brings me down a little more. With every card I think of buying my mom, I feel more and more the loser I have become.

I KNOW that I have to stop looking for it. I KNOW that I have to leave it up to fate and stop manipulating situations in my favor only to be crushed when they don't work out. But, shit...how much of this crap do I have to wade through before I find that gem, that ONE good person who's in the same place as I am? I hadn't been actively looking until recently, and then I finally had my life in a place where I was ready to share it with someone, and it's just not happening.

*sigh*

I used to really like being single. Now...not so much. This sucks. And I wish every store in the world would burn down between now and Valentine's Day. St. Pat's Day never looked so good.

Gramma Olive

62x365
The only memory I really have of you is that you lived in Canada and had one leg. I was six when you died. I wanted to go to the funeral, but my mom wouldn’t take me.

Beth B.

61x365
You were the first teacher to ever acknowledge that I had any talent for writing. I thought you were awesome. You had a southern accent, put mustard on your fries, and had a cameo in “Sixteen Candles.”

Mrs. Reed

60x365
I remember seeing you at the Southgate Plaza the summer after third grade. I was excited and astounded that you would be anywhere other than the school. I guess I didn’t realize that teachers had lives, too

Donnie

59x365
I was eating a continental breakfast and reading a complimentary newspaper when I saw your obituary. I went to the wake. Your brother said you were an alcoholic and died of liver failure. You were only 35.

Scott O.

58x365
You bullied me relentlessly and I decided to fight back one day. It was a cool idea until I hit Leah in the mouth with my Pigs in Space lunchbox as I threw the punch at you.

Sister Marylin

57x365
I wonder if you knew that I only took your CCD class because it gave me an excuse to get out of school early on Mondays. Even still, I thought you were pretty cool, as nuns go

P.F.

56x365
I kept you a closely guarded secret, content to leave things as they were. You’re the one who had to go and complicate things. It wouldn’t have been so bad if you weren’t such a damn liar.

A brief departure; New Year's musings

So I've gotten so caught up in the x365 project that I haven't really posted any regular entries lately. I hadn't thought too much about it, really, and then earlier today I realized that I've got a ton of stuff on my mind and should probably get it out before it makes me too crazy. So, for those of you who've gotten used to stopping in for the latest installment in the x365 series, I apologize. But maybe you'll still be entertained anyway.

Part of why I decided to do the x365 was because it's amazing to me sometimes how people come in and out of our lives. Everyone comes in - or goes out - for a reason, and everyone affects us one way or another. It might be a positive or a negative effect, a large or small impact, a long-lasting or fleeting impression...whatever the outcome, they are/were/will be part of us for a reason. We are nobody to question WHY they are there, only to appreciate them while they are.

But that wasn't really the point of this entry; in fact I wanted to depart as fully from the x365 as possible, and yet...I want to talk about people. And timing. And love.

Have you ever been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or maybe it's the right place but the wrong person. Or the right person but the wrong time. I know I'm waxing philosophical and perhaps being a little cryptic here, but I'm going somewhere with it, I promise. Just bear with me - this is a blog, of course, and in my blog I sort my thoughts.

Since moving back to Buffalo, I feel like my life has more purpose than ever before. I'm more grounded, my relationships are more solid, I have more direction, and my head is a little clearer. The move has proven to be a cleansing of sorts - my head, my heart, my soul...it all feels a little cleaner these days. And yet there is so much more work to be done.

Tomorrow is the last day of 2007. I will spend it working, after which I'm dragging out a new friend who just moved here. Whether he's going to feel truly up to celebrating remains to be seen. I mean, it is the end of a year that hasn't been very kind to the guy, so it could go one of a couple ways, I suppose.

I have, in recent years, sort of shunned the idea of getting drunk on New Year's Eve. Yes, I know, it's a surprising concept that someone who never needs an excuse to get drunk would actually shy away from doing so on an occasion where it's expected. But yeah, I haven't been drunk on New Year's Eve in years. Not since Chicago, in fact. And even then it was in the earlier part of the century. Like, 2002 maybe? I don't really remember. I think what happened there was that there were a few times I'd had to close where I was working New Year's Eve and then open the next day, and so I couldn't go out. And then it struck me somewhere along the way that starting the new year without a hangover was actually a good thing. So I ran with it.

But this year...this year I think I'm going to drink. Why? Because I can. And because I want to. And because I have a lot to toast - a lot to celebrate as well as a lot to put to rest. This has been a hell of a year. Not a bad one, per se, but full of a lot of growth, revelation, realization, and limit-pushing. Looking back, however, I certainly wish I'd done more. And so now looking forward to 2008, I know what I need to do. And I have since dubbed 2008 My Best Year Ever.

This is, in fact, my one and only resolution: to make 2008 the best year of my life so far. I'm not going to itemize or make a list of resolutions to tick off as I accomplish them, because that never works. What ends up happening when I do this is I sit here on December 31st and go, "well, I didn't lose those last 50 pounds, I didn't save up X amount of dollars, and I never did get the dining room painted." So all I'm doing this year is promising myself that I will do whatever it is I need to do to live my life as fully and happily as possible. Yes, I will take an inventory of sorts as a launching point. I will finish losing my weight. I will eat healthier and exercise more. I will learn to recognize when love means letting go and that meaningful relationships don't happen overnight. Yes, I will save up more money, take that trip to Japan, and paint the fucking dining room. The hallway and the living room are on the docket, too. But really what I need to do is get myself to a place - a spiritual, emotional, and intellectually fulfilling place - where this stuff will happen because it's the right place at the right time. And everything else will follow.

Happy New Year, everyone.

Frauke

55x365
You were half German, half Iroquois, stunningly gorgeous, and you had a terrifically interesting name. Everyone loved you, and you were funny as hell. I still have that picture of you with the Killer Dustbuster at Bells.

Ralph the Dishwasher

54x365
I tried to feel sorry for you, but you creeped me out. Were you really so hungry that you had to eat the discarded food on the dirty plates, the melted ice cream, the half-eaten burgers? Gross.

Ashvin

53x365
You would’ve been more fun if you’d just loosened up a little. Yeah, you were intelligent, but sometimes I just wanted to talk about stupid stuff or watch something dumb. Not everything has to be picked clean.

April

52x365
I always thought you were the smarter, more grounded one. Conversations with you were much more substantial. I also liked you because, unlike your roommate, you were completely comfortable with yourself and didn’t whine about superficial crap.

Luci

51x365
I’m pretty sure the nail in my coffin was the email you intercepted…you know, that one where I compared you to Lois Griffin from “Family Guy.” You have to admit, though, it was a pretty fair comparison.

Frank Russo

50x365
You made all of our lives miserable. We were just college kids, dude, not the Brooklyn thugs you were so used to chasing. We just wanted to have some fun. You took it all way too seriously.

Kathy

49x365
You were one of the cool girls, popular and pretty, part of “The Court.” How ridiculous that was. You handed me the knife that I stuck in #48’s back, and then you turned on me. Manipulative bitch.

Amy R.

48x365
We met in seventh grade and everyone made fun of you, but we were friends. Then I stabbed you in the back to get in with the cool crowd. I was never so sorry in my life.

Chuck

47x365
You gave me the best haircut of my life; you didn’t try any fancy stuff, you didn’t argue, you just cut it how I wanted, and it was awesome. I should see if you’re still in business

Tammy

46x365
Remember that time we got busted smoking at camp? Silly us, thinking menthol cigarettes wouldn’t smell like smoke. Years later you came out. I always look for you in the crowd outside Ms. Kitty’s on the weekends.

Mrs. Rumpl

45x365
You were eighty years old and wore saddle shoes. You told my mom I was a troublemaker, but really I was just bored. I had no use for your alphabet lessons; I already knew how to read.

Kevin

44x365
We grew up six houses apart. I never really knew you, you were just Lisa’s older brother. Many years and many moves later, I bumped into you at the drugstore a block away. You’re the manager there.

Darcy

43x365
We were friends most of the time, laughing until our sides split. But sometimes you were a real witch. I guess I just sort of phased you out at some point. You work in the mall now.

Warren

42x365
You were such a fun boyfriend when you weren’t being an asshole. I think if we’d met at a different time in our lives it might have worked out. You just needed to grow up a little.

Mrs. Trombley

41x365
I remember that you were nicer than the other lunch ladies, except when kids would start messing around with the desserts. “Take the one you touch!” you’d yell. I think your daughter was friends with my mom.

Miss Romance

40x365
You scared the crap out of me. You looked like Bea Arthur, sounded like Nurse Diesel, and stood like thirteen feet tall. You died recently. The obituary said you were very active in your church. Who knew!

Michael A.

39x365
I knew you’d given up on me when you pawned me off to that class of misfits. But I’m glad I convinced you to take me back; it was fun having you like me for a change.

Kosta

38x365
You were a cocky bastard, with your Mustang and your crooked nose. So many times I wanted to punch that misogynistic smirk off your face. I laughed when your crotch rocket got stolen. You totally deserved it.

Katie S.

37x365
You had a wall of spiral curls and weird hippie parents. I liked you because you let me have your old Jordache jeans. My dad took us to see Supertramp. My mom thought you chewed too loudly.

Gail

36x365
From time to time I see a woman who looks like you, and I wonder what I would say if it actually was you. I guess my first question would be, “was it really all worth it?”

The Sara(h) Series: Sarah D.

35x365
I loved being your student and your kids’ babysitter. I was so happy when I read that you’d earned your doctorate. If memory serves correctly, your oldest is a college freshman now. Wow, do I feel old!

The Sara(h) Series: Sarah P.

34x365
I almost quit my job because of you. I went in one day prepared to stand up against you for once, but instead you announced you were leaving. My first thought was, “there really IS a god.”

The Sara Series: Sara N.

33x365
Listen, about that…I’ve watched you grow so much these last few years. You’re an amazing, strong person, and you should be proud of yourself. I’m proud of you and what you’ve become. And you make me laugh.

The Sara Series: Sara E.

32x365
You are truly a beautiful person. I enjoy hanging out with you and think maybe we should do that more often. Only maybe with a little less vodka next time – and without the wetting of the pants.

The Sara(h) Series: Sarah I.

31x365
One of these weekends I’m gonna make it up to Connecticut to visit you. We always have so much fun together, and it’s been too long since I last saw you (ten years)! I’ll bring the Mallocups.

The Sara Series: Sara B.

30x365
When I see how far you’ve come in the recent past, I’m filled with happiness for you. You’re much stronger than you know, and you’re finally seeing that. I am so proud to call you my friend.

Valerie

29x365
You are mainly responsible for my former front-end management career. You trained me well, and I used everything you taught me with my own employees. Sorry you had to fire me, but it was a valuable lesson.

Colleen

28x365
We piss each other off sometimes, but I still love you. I think the feeling is mutual – like when I use the wrong glass or teach your kids bad stuff. The latter, of course, is just payback.

Bill K.

27x365

You do beautiful work. I hope you didn’t think it was too forward of me to send you that note on your opening. I’m glad I got to see the show. It’s a pity that you’re married.

Phyllis

26x365
I loved our weekends together, watching “60 Minutes” and talking into the wee hours over gallons of tea and overflowing ashtrays. I miss that. I’m sorry we don’t know each other anymore. Maybe your son could explain

Nurse Tammy

25x365
You treated me so well that night in the ER. I was so grateful to see you because I knew you’d take care of me. I make your coffee, you help me not suffocate. Good trade, yeah?

Scott M.

24x365
I chased you for two years before I finally gave up. It’s not my fault I’m Caucasian. I hope you found a nice Latina to settle down with – or at least moved out of your mom’s house.

William

23x365
We didn’t get along. We tolerated each other for M’s sake. Then you died, and I sort of wish we’d gotten along better. You’re still the only one I’ve ever known who collected his own toenail clippings.


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Wondering what these "x365" posts are all about?

x365 is a project started by one guy who wanted to mark turning 40 in some significant way. Now hundreds strong, the x365 has members worldwide. Click HERE (or on the #x365 link in any post) to find out more!

Audrey

22x365
You have the crystal ball. I think I’m supposed to get it next. Isn’t that what you said? “The ball chooses its owner” or something to that effect. I’m somewhat worried that I’ll lose or break it.

Tall Mild

21x365
I wish I could tell you to your weasel face just how goddamned annoying you are. But I’d get fired. So I just put a splash of decaf in your cup, and that makes me feel better.

Mrs. Cjyka

20x365
We made so much fun of you. But you were obscenely old, half blind, had mismatched legs, and spoke in a thick Polish accent. You ate our unwanted vegetables. We were little kids. We didn’t know better.

Richard

19x365
You are a true example of someone who is a caricature of himself. Honestly, what is up with that hair? And what about that Nehru Kimono thing? You’re brilliant but just way too weird, even for me.

Senora Rubio

Happy Thanksgiving!

18x365
Year after year you welcomed me into your home and your family so that I wouldn’t have to spend the holiday alone. You are a truly amazing lady AND you make amazing empanadas. Gracias con toda sinceridad.

Grace P.

17x365
I don’t remember where you came from. I think your school closed so you transferred to mine. We had “dummy chemistry” class together, we ate yogurt raisins all the time, and we were always getting yelled at.

Amy

16x365
You were new. I noticed you sitting alone on the bus one day, so I plopped down next to you and introduced myself. We were friends for many years, until I moved away. Ironically, you married #15.

Daryl

15x365
Ah, my first love. You’d think someone in your position would be more memorable, but I mostly remember your cheesy moustache, your Chevelle catching fire in the Burger King drive-thru, and how you couldn’t stand my parents.

Kathy

14x365
I should’ve pressed charges that Thanksgiving after you slapped me. If I’d known then what I know now, you’d have a record. I wonder if your children realize what a perverted crook you are. You’re just wrong.

Billy P.

13x365
I was in first grade. I had a crush on you like all the girls did. You were the most handsome boy in the whole school. My parents called you the “Six Year Old Dirty Old Man.”

Andrea

12x365
I found your necklace on my side of the bed one morning after my overnight shift. You really should have been more careful if you were going to fuck someone else’s boyfriend. I don’t even wear gold.

The Fish Lady

11x365
“Hey, it's the salmon burger lady!” you’d say every time I came in this summer. I liked that you recognized me, but was secretly relieved when you weren’t there, because sometimes I didn’t want a salmon burger.

Kerry

10x365:
The first time I saw you, you nearly ran me over with your bike. The last time I saw you, you were wearing shorts that you had stolen from me. In between, we were pretty good friends.

Student Accounts Lady

9x365:
Your kindly smiling face helps to soften the blow when I go to pay my parking tickets. You empathize and make me laugh. I love how we both hate the same safety officer with such a passion.

Dennis G.

8x365
I altered my course of study after taking just one of your classes because I was so impressed, inspired, and enthralled by you. Remember when you busted me telling someone how your class rocked my world? Oops.

Marwa Grocer

7x365
I never knew your name, but you always knew what I wanted. “Two” I’d say, and the Parliaments would come down. I thought it was cool that you closed up shop to pray three times a day.

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Wondering what all these entries are about? Check out the post about "That Guy" from a few days ago for an explanation of the x365 game. You can also click on the x365 entry number to link to the main x365 site (http://x365.org). Fun!

Bob L.

6x365:
You inspired us all and breathed new life into a stagnant program. My boyfriend started rolling his own cigarettes because you did. Brilliant and weird and cool you were, and we ALL wanted to sleep with you.

K.G.

5x365
You were so funny and I loved you to death. Please believe me when I tell you that I had no idea you would get fired. But you seem to be doing much better for yourself now.

Diane

4x365

You were my best friend for years, but now that I’ve been away after all this time, I realize that I never felt good about myself when you were around. You really were a bitch. Good riddance.

The Kid at A-Plus

3x365:
You’re probably fifteen years my junior, yet I get butterflies whenever I see you. I like our flirty banter and how you smile when you give me change. I’d hit on you, but I’m not a cougar.

Joan

2x365:
Remember the time I was late for rehearsal, and I blustered into the room shouting all sorts of nasty stuff? You were really cool about it and calmed me down. To this day you’re still my favorite.

That Guy

1x365:
I see you walking everywhere, always with that black bag and the red hat, your eyes obscured behind mirrored sunglasses. With your tan skin and white moustache, you sort of resemble a film negative. Who ARE you?

See, look - he's real!! And he's #1 in the x365!

Look, everyone! I got his picture today! THAT GUY! I could only get him from the back though - I'm telling you, That Guy moves like quicksilver. Ironically enough, this sighting happened at the very same intersection as talcum-pants lady. (Here's the original post if you don't know what I'm talking about). Note the signature red cap, the trademark black bag. He's never without. If I could get a shot from the front you'd see the aviators and the moustache, too. Well, maybe next time.

I am a woman obsessed.




Anyway, starting with today's entry I'm beginning the x365. This is a pretty cool thing where you write a blurb about 365 different people who have touched your life in small or large ways, important or insignificant ways, positive or negative ways, any ways at all. The tricky part is that you do this using only a certain number of words. I've chosen to use the number 37, since that is how old I will be when I've completed my 365 people. Sometimes these folks will have their own entry, sometimes they will be tacked on to the end of an entry (like today's), and they will not be in any sort of order of importance or anything like that. In any case, there will be a person a day - maybe you'll be one of them! I may not specify the person in each entry, either. I might give them a nickname (particularly if it's a stranger), or identify only by initials to keep some of them relatively anonymous, but that'll only add to the fun - see if you can guess who it is!

Well, since he was the subject of today's blog entry, I'm going to start with That Guy. Enjoy!

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Cutting the fat

I'm not just talking about the kind that you eat. That I've been actually relatively successful in doing these last few months. No, I'm talking about life's fat - the unnecessary, extraneous bullshit that weighs you down; the extra crap in your life consisting of things, thoughts, and even people that fetter your mind, clutter your space, and consume your valuable time and energy.

Shortly after I moved back to Buffalo, I was having a conversation with a random stranger in a bar. I don't remember his name, only that he was older; he was the kind of wizened old guy who speaks in proverbs not because he doesn't know what else to say, but because he genuinely believes in their messages. So we got to talking about my travels and my move back to Buffalo and my search for a new job. I told him where I'd lived and worked before and where I thought I'd go after this stop. He took a sip of his beer, and without turning to look at me said, "So what are you running from?"

I thought about it for a second and said, "Well, I guess I'm running from...myself?" He turned to me and said, "maybe it's time to face yourself head-on and stop reinventing yourself every couple of years, and figure out who you really are." The whole thing was like a surreal scene from a made-for-TV movie on Lifetime. But he was right. And ever since then, I've been working toward that. But even still, it's not enough sometimes, and I heap more and more on my plate until I get so overwhelmed that I melt down...and that's when the trouble starts, and I start burdening friends and family with my neurotic episodes. As one friend put it to me recently, "You're all right, you just need to chill the fuck out."

So I've recently begun thinking of what to do after school. The original plan was to finish and then leave Buffalo for bigger and better things, perhaps back to Chicago, possibly to sunnier climes in pursuit of a job or a graduate degree. However, I've gotten used to the idea of actually staying put for once in my life, and I'm currently holding records in the job and dwelling departments - I've been working at Starbucks and living in my house longer than any job or apartment I've ever had. Considering that I've been at Starbucks for almost four years and have been in my house for four and a half, that's a pretty weak reflection...but they're records nonetheless. I'm saving my thoughts on living in Buffalo for another post, but suffice to say that I'm staying.

I realize that I can be a tough person to keep up with. Part of my anti-appeal for a lot of people is my unstable nature, my inability to stay in one place or stick with one thing for very long. Think about it - those of you who have known me for any considerable length of time know that every time you talk to me, something else has changed, some new crisis has developed, some relationship is in the wings or on its way out (and usually with considerable drama orbiting around it), I've picked up another job or a new commitment...to quote Gilda Radner, "it's always something."

The point is that while I've spent the last few years being extremely selfish, self-centered, and carrying a big "fuck 'em if they can't accept me as I am" chip on my shoulder, I do realize that perhaps I should take Scott's advice and just chill out a little. I've bitten off a lot more than I can chew in the last few years, but this is how I operate. If I don't have thirty things going on at once, I won't do anything. So this is not a matter of dropping commitments or scaling back my activities (although I did have to sacrifice my drum lessons for the rest of the semester), but more a matter of stepping back and taking stock of what's most important to me and then prioritizing from there. I need to look for healthy outlets for my neurosis and stress, instead of foisting new episodes of "The Deedee Show" on my immediate friends all the time.

I've always had a tendency to draw attention to myself, to be the life of the party, to move into what Sally calls "Circus Clown Mode" when I'm in a group situation. And when I'm in a good mood, comfortable with myself, and in a decent place in my life, I can be very entertaining, even in my most cynical, self-deprecating approach. But when I'm stressed out, or my esteem is low for whatever reason, or I'm feeling exceptionally pessimistic, my approach lacks the shine of my inner comedienne and instead comes across as whiny, bitchy and needy, putting everyone around me on edge. That is what I need to change.

Maybe I'll try yoga. If I can find room in my schedule. :-)

The healing process apparently involves more quadrupeds

Everyone keeps telling me, "The fastest way to recover from your grief is to get another dog, and get one right away." And while, yes, I will admit that dogs are awesome and the loss of Alex has left a gaping hole in not just my heart but my life in general, I'm just not in a place where I can bring a new dog into it. I swear, some people are worse about me getting a puppy than those folks who get on my case about having kids. The big difference, of course, is that I'll eventually be able to shut the puppy people up. Just not for a while.

So yesterday I went to the SPCA to pick up Alex's ashes (which, incidentally, are in a HUGE box; I was a little taken aback with the size of it, but then I remembered that Alex was a pretty enormous mutt), and just for the hell of it, I walked through the adoption kennels. They had some pretty interesting dogs, though a little heartbreaking on the pit bull side (nearly 2/3 of the dogs up for adoption were some mix of pit). There were a couple of Great Dane mixes - and naturally they were the ones I gravitated toward, given my love for Danes and Dane mixes. There was a Great Dane/Basset Hound mix that was so weird-looking you couldn't help but fall in love with him, and a Dane/Lab mix that was absolutely beautiful and reminded me a lot of Alex.

After I got my fill of dogs, I wandered through the front area where they keep the cats and the small animals. I hung out and admired the bunnies, laughed at the ferrets, and then moseyed on over to the bank of cages where they keep the pocket pets. Guinea pigs, hamsters, a couple of gerbils...and then I saw it: a black and white hooded rat with some of the prettiest markings I've ever seen, including a really interesting head spot - and she was a girl! She was all by herself, and that's primarily what prompted me to do this:

Me: (Checking pocket and finding $17) "Hi, how much is the adoption fee for rats?"
SPCA Lady: "Rats are five dollars."
Me: "I'll take that one you have over there."

I was given all the requisite paperwork to fill out, the adoption contract and the pledge to take proper care of the animal, etc, etc. I even get a free vet visit! Not a bad deal for my five bucks. And so I have brought the number in That Crazy Rat Lady's colony to lucky 13. Now, I know that seems like a lot. And, well...it is. But she was all by herself, and rats just don't do well in solitary situations. If there had been two or more in that cage, I would have just admired them and walked away. If this rat had been male, I would have not taken it home (but would have definitely called someone I know with boyrats and alerted them). Nevertheless, some things I think are just left up to fate, and this I believe was one of them.

She doesn't have a name yet; I'm waiting to see what her personality is like and try out a few names on her and see how she responds (that's how I named Nancy, my first rat). Right now she's in quarantine in a separate cage, but if all goes according to plan she should be moved into the big cage by week's end. So...without further ado, I present to you the newest member of the Planet Deedums Mammal-rama!

The most difficult choice of my life

*Warning: Emotionally charged and really long post*

On Wednesday, October 17 at 2:30 p.m. Alex the Wondermutt was put peacefully to rest. It was the most heart-wrenching experience of my life, and the most difficult decision I think I've ever had to make. But at the age of 15 years, five months, Alex was ready to go.

She had, in fact, been trying to tell me this for quite some time, but I was selfishly unwilling to accept it. I kept thinking it would get better, kept thinking that perhaps I was overreacting, kept ignoring the people who said, "you know, Dee, maybe it's time to let her go." I kept saying, "but she's eating just fine, she's still cognizant, and she's still healthy for her age!" I didn't want to make a hasty decision in case there was something that could still be done. Yet I saw the struggle she had with walking and with getting up and down the front steps. I watched her once-strapping stature and robust frame wither and droop, felt the bones protruding from her hips, her ribs, and her swaybacked spine. I cleaned up the bathroom accidents on a daily basis (sometimes more than once a day). I listened to the hacking cough and looked into cataract-clouded eyes. All the signs were there, and although I saw them all, I didn't really see them closely enough until last week.

That Monday, I had a conversation with a customer of mine, someone who works closely with animals. I told her about Alex and how I thought it could be time to let her go, but that I just couldn't bring myself to be ready. She gave me a little food for thought to chew on, mostly stuff about "quality of life" and such, and assured me that no matter what, I had to remember that I'd been extremely blessed with more than 15 years with Alex. Considering Alex's size and breed composition, this in itself was miraculous. She told me that the decision was ultimately mine, but that I needed to look to Alex and make my decision based on what the dog was telling me.

I had a huge project due on Tuesday, one that had me upstairs in the studio all the rest of that day after I got out of work. It was a 28" x 36" pastel-on-paper piece which had to be done while standing, due to the nature of the composition and the medium with which I was working. For the first couple of hours I worked with my iPod blasting away at my eardrums, dancing around as I pasteled myself into a frenzy of color-stained fingers and dusted hair. Then I took a break, coming downstairs to get something to drink, and when I opened the door I saw it. Alex had been up on the sofa while I was upstairs, and had apparently not been able to get down before releasing a torrent of pee all over one cushion. She stood next to the coffee table, shivering and looking very guilty, and slunk off into the corner when I gasped and cried out an expletive (just because I loved this dog doesn't mean I didn't still get pissed off when she did something wrong). It was at this point that I began thinking about what Diane and I had discussed earlier in the day.

I went back into the studio, but this time I left the earbuds out, and I worked in total silence, listening only to my thoughts. I thought about the last 15 years, and how up until a couple years ago, Alex's days had been filled with walks and playtime, with toys and treats. I thought about how she used to get so excited when I'd come home, dancing around and wagging her tail, dragging me down the street on her leash...and then I thought about how now I had to wake her from her silent slumber and help her down the steps upon coming home. We couldn't really take walks anymore; we'd get to the corner and she'd want to turn back because her legs hurt. If we walked any further, she'd be out like a light for the next eight hours. I thought about how the weather was going to be turning soon, and how the cold had started to aggravate her arthritis in recent years. When she was younger, she couldn't get enough of the snow (part of the excitement of the first snowfall every year was getting to watch Alex go bonkers over "the white stuff!"), but now it was a source of exacerbation and pain. By the time I finished the piece that night, I had boiled it all down to one question that I asked myself: For whose benefit was I really keeping this dog around?

On Tuesday morning (after cleaning up a pile of poop off the kitchen floor), I went to school and continued to think about the situation. During a break between classes, I called Alex's vet and told them everything I'd thought about. It was their opinion that yes, perhaps the time had come to say goodbye. I called the SPCA and asked about the arrangements. And then I called some friends and asked if they would be willing to accompany me the next day. By the time I'd gotten to my afternoon class, I'd worked myself up into an emotional mess. I ended up coming home early and spending the afternoon hanging out with her until it was time to go to my evening class. And that night I took a pillow and a blanket, and I camped out on the dining room floor. Alex came and laid down next to me on the blanket, and we slept like that the rest of the night. At one point the two cats joined us, and it was like a big old furry slumber party.

Wednesday came too soon. I wasn't leaving to take her in until 2:00, so I spent the morning sitting quietly with her, petting her and telling her how sorry I was that I had to say goodbye. We took a stroll around the neighborhood, and I let her wander and linger as long as she wanted. I let her eat grass and eat dirt. I let her stay outside and root around in my garden while I put the sheet on the back seat of my car. She watched me with curiosity, and I felt a pang of guilt when I saw how excited she got when she figured out that we were going for a ride in the car. Shortly before 2:00 I loaded her up and we pulled out. We went to McDonald's and I ordered three double cheeseburgers with no pickles (pickles were one of the few things that she didn't like) but in a comically bittersweet moment, I realized I'd forgotten to order them without ketchup, too, and I laughed at the red mess she made.

At 2:00 we met up with my friends. We were meeting at Starbucks, and it seemed as though everyone was working that day. I was met with an outpouring of sympathy, which only made me cry that much harder. Because there were three people going with me, we took two cars, and as we proceeded I drove in silence, one hand on the wheel and one hand behind me, scratching Alex between the ears.

It's strange now when I think back on what happened next; I don't remember really saying anything. I remember telling the woman at the counter that I was there to put my dog down, and I remember giving her my license and Alex's information. Then in a really bizarre turn of events, my boss emerged from the back room (she's a volunteer there). So now I had four people with me. It was like a posse of support. My boss tried to pull some strings to get them to let me back into the room where they were going to perform the euthanasia, but to no avail. I would be allowed to go back once they were done, though. I accepted this, kissed Alex on top of the head, scratched her snout, and told her I loved her. I told her that Lepew would be waiting for her on the other side, and that I would see her again someday, too. I then watched as she was walked away, the last time I would ever see her alive. She looked back at me as if to say, "it's okay, Mom. I'm ready."

After what seemed like eternity but was really only about ten minutes, I was led into a room, and there she was. She was lying on a table, wrapped in a pink flowered comforter. What emerged from me was the unmistakable cry of grief, the cry that had come twice before and has a sound unto itself. It can't be described, but if you've lost a loved one, you know the sound. I don't know how long I stayed like this, but I collapsed over her body, sobbing and shaking, not even realizing until Meaghan rubbed my back that everyone had come back there with me. I was told that it was quick and peaceful, and that Alex had gone willingly without a struggle, without a fight, and that she had, without a doubt, been ready to go.

Afterwards, I had Meaghan drive my car back to Starbucks, and we sat and had coffee for a while. I couldn't bear to come home right away, not to Alex's bowls and bed and toys still around the house. I wasn't ready to face the house without her presence. On Wednesday night after I came home, I sent out the obligatory email. I made some phone calls. I decided I would make a little tribute to her on my myspace page, so I got out the photo album. Her bed was still on the floor and I thought it might be good for me to dispose of it. But as I walked toward it I realized I wasn't ready to toss it just yet, and I laid down on the floor and rested my head on it. I ended up falling asleep that way, and for the second night in a row, I slept on the floor.

These last few days have been a rollercoaster of ups and downs. I know things will even out with time, my heart will heal, and I'll stop crying all the time. I'll be able to come home and not feel a lump in my throat every time I open the front door and remember that she's not here anymore, and eventually I'll get used to life without a dog. One of these mornings I'll get out of bed and not look for shoes to put on right away to take her out. Someday I'll not think about how I need to rush home in between classes to walk her. I'll have to start remembering to pick up food that falls on the floor. When you do something every day for over 15 years and then it's not there anymore...it takes some adjustment.

This truly is the end of an era. Having had Alex since I was 21, she was with me through thick and thin, through every trial and tribulation, joy and celebration of my adult life. She was like a fixture. A big, stinky, furry, destructive, yet lovable fixture, always there through every move, every relationship, every life event. She had a long, happy life, and I was blessed beyond reason to have her as long as i did. Even still, there will never be a day in my life that I don't wonder if I really did the right thing. But I have a feeling that she's having a good old time tearing something up wherever she is. Hopefully the folks in charge of the Rainbow Bridge remembered to put away their hardcover books.

Rest in peace, Alex. May 6, 1992 - October 17, 2007.

A once-in-a-lifetime event: Meeting Henry

Tonight I met the greatest hero of my life, Henry Rollins. Some of you might remember a little over a year ago when I posted about my homage-in-ink to him on my back. Well, tonight I got to show him - in person - just how much he means to me after his spoken word show, thanks to a connection I have with the venue's management. We took some photos, I got his autograph on my favorite book of his, Black Coffee Blues, and we chatted for about ten minutes.

Ironically, he had talked at length during the three-hour performance about meeting his heroes and turning into a blushing, blithering idiot in their presence, like an 11-year-old meeting the newest teen sensation at a strip mall appearance.

So anyway, after the show I was escorted to the back door by security where I waited for Henry to come out. After he finished signing autographs and chatting with the small group of fans on the sidewalk, he came over to me, and the entire little speech I'd prepared for weeks was no longer on the tip of my tongue. What came out instead was, "Henry, I want you to know that I'm trying REALLY hard not to be an 11-year-old at a strip mall right now." He laughed, and I went on to tell him how big an impact he's had on my life.

When it was all over, I thought, "wow, that was a lot more laid-back than I thought it would be!" He's really down to earth, very friendly, and extremely humble. This, 0f course, has much to do with my admiration for him. I was very surprised at how composed I remained; I did not pass out, I did not pee my pants (and yes, I was worried about both of those things happening). But aside from my flushed appearance and giddy smile, I think I held myself together quite nicely.

But then I realized that I never even told him my name! Duh! Well, anyway, here are some photos of the excitement!


Waiting in front of Henry's bus, book and Sharpie at the ready!


We were talking about Chicago and all the shows I saw when I lived there.


Okay, now he was impressed with the tattoo, but in this picture I can't figure out if he's thinking, "Oh, yeah, check this out!" or "This chick is whack!" I know what I was thinking - "Holy shit, Henry Rollins is holding my hair!"


One final parting shot. A little blurry, but I like it anyway.

And just for the record, it really feels incredible to be able to check off a goal on your life's list! I don't know how to thank the people who made this happen, but I can assure you there is a very special place in heaven for them! Or at least some free coffee...

I don't even really like baseball!

I wish people could be more grown-up when it comes to expressing feelings and desires. I include myself in this list, of course, as I am notorious for saying everything BUT what I mean to say, circumventing the issue at hand and at times getting all cryptic and weird. Then I take my frustrations out and vent to people who aren't even part of the situation, and end up tangling more people than necessary into the web o'drama.

*Gratuitous Baseball Metaphor Alert*

If we all had more balls to just step up to the plate and take a swing, the world would be a much happier place. Even if you strike out, at least you know you've struck out and aren't left standing there wondering whether to drop the bat and run or retreat back to the bench. And sometimes you surprise yourself and hit it out of the park. But so many of us never even pick up that bat.

Cheesy analogies aside, why is this? Is it fear of rejection? Trepidation in the face of the unknown? A gunshy attitude based on previous experience? The desire to "spare" others' feelings? Why can't we just come right out and say, "Hey, you really pissed me off," or "I dig you" or "Yes, those pants make your ass look big," or "Sorry, I'm not into you that way," or countless other sentiments? Granted, one is required to be relatively tactful and diplomatic when offering such statements, and few people possess the necessary tools for being so. Even still, if we all started being more honest and straightforward with each other, there would be some broken hearts and disappointments, sure, but there would be a hell of a lot fewer misunderstandings.

I am Veruca Salt.

I want the world
I want the whole world
I want to lock it all up in my pocket
It's my bar of chocolate
Give it to me
Now!

-Veruca Salt, in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

As I stated in a previous post, I have issues with delayed gratification. I want everything, and I want it yesterday. And this bothers me.

I was originally going to post this in my diet blog because I figured out that a lot of my food issues stem from the instant gratification compulsion, i.e. I don't have the patience to cook. But then I realized that so much else in my life, so much of what drives people - and myself - crazy about me is the fact that I'm simply too damn impatient. I hate waiting. This may be behind my chronic tardiness as well. If I'm late, I join the action in progress and don't have to wait around for it to start. It also has a lot to do with my housekeeping issues. I want my house to be clean, but I don't have the patience to clean it. I unwittingly sabotage relationships because I don't stop to savor the stages of development, and tend to come on way too strong way too soon. Despite my best intentions, I always screw it up. But yeah, I'm sure you get the idea.

So this week we started learning how to "throw" in ceramics class. For the record, I hate that fucking class. I'm not good at it, I'm not particularly interested in it, it's obnoxiously messy, and the teacher is a straight-up jerk sometimes. He does a marvelous job of making me feel really stupid, in fact. Anyway, the other day I was sitting at my wheel, fighting with a spinning lump of wet clay (and wearing a good deal of it as well) and all I wanted to do was turn it into a bowl. Just a bowl. Nothing fancy, nothing extreme, just a god damned bowl. Well, it's a lot harder than it looks, and I couldn't even get the stupid thing to stay on the wheel, let alone get it centered or shape it into anything that looked remotely like a bowl. In fact, at one point I looked at my creation and thought, "Wow, that's a really great rendition of a pile of dog poo."

This semester sucks.