They

While thinking more about the Wild Flag concert, I remembered a conversation snippet between Porkchop and me that still makes me giggle.

We were having a snack in a diner after the concert. I was stoked about the concert, and Porkchop was stoked about the Cardinals winning their game…

Me: Well, I guess they’re probably already on their bus, making their way to the next city.

Porkchop: What? I bet they’re still in the locker room celebrating with champagne. They probably don’t fly out until tomorrow.

Obviously, we had different theys in mind!

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Victories and Losses

The Wild Flag concert Friday night was perfect.

Porkchop and I checked into our hotel, grabbed a quick bite to eat, lucked into a parking spot right by the concert venue, and found a place to lean against the bar during the opener.

The venue wasn’t crowded during the opener, but became comfortably populated by the time Wild Flag took the stage. When they started to play, I realized I was smiling, really smiling, for the first time in a few months.

It felt good.

During the concert, there was a lot of vigorous head-bobbing going on…my kind of crowd. During some songs, the guy beside me and I did some jumping up and down on a floor that had seen better days. That is, Porkchop and I were worried it would give out at any moment.

Porkchop snapped this photo of Carrie Brownstein:

Rocking out in Champaign.

The concert ended around 10:00, so we were able to watch the Cardinals secure a victory over the Phillies and progress to the next round of the playoffs.

It was a very good night.

After spending some time in the Champaign mall on Saturday, we headed back to St. Louis for the Blues home opener. While we ended up scoring some sweet seats a mere five rows from the ice, the Blues weren’t so lucky in their scoring abilities. At least there are many more games in the season!

Sunday morning started with a trip to the zoo to check out some baby animals. There is a cute Colobus monkey infant, as well as an Asian elephant. Here’s the baby elephant practicing using its trunk:

BABY ELEPHANT!

The rest of Sunday included physics tutoring, physics homework, watching the Cardinals lose to the Brewers, and hanging out during Porkchop’s hockey practice.

Despite some losses, it was a good weekend.

But Then

I met with my therapist this morning for my third appointment. We talked about my family some, and it brought up a bunch of yuckiness that I didn’t want to think about today.

My therapist asked about my parents and their relationship, and geez…there isn’t enough time in one appointment to deal with that crap. So I left with a blech feeling hanging around me.

We had some good times when I was growing up, but my primary impression of my childhood is lying in bed at night, my stomach in knots because my parents are having another epic row. My siblings and I were all, in our own way, big balls of anxiety because we never knew when our parents were going to be set off next. The littlest thing could trigger a week of fighting.

My worst memory is an incident that happened in Columbia. We were visiting my sister at the university, and my dad wanted to go to the school library to check out their computer system (my dad was a librarian back then). My sister didn’t want us to spend all of our time in the library, so she refused, and then my dad started calling her an idiot. Then my mom was yelling at my dad and telling him to stop. We were in public with people walking around us, mind you.

I don’t know what happened in the interim, but my dad ended up driving my mom, my brother, and I all around Columbia. He and my mom were yelling at each other while he sped around, driving too fast and recklessly. We just wanted to go to the hotel, but he refused to let us out of the car.

We drove around for a couple of hours, I think. And when we finally got out at the hotel, my parents continued their fighting.

My other favorite memory is when my mom and I were going to Oklahoma to visit relatives. My parents had been arguing that morning (of course), and my dad took my mom’s keys and wouldn’t let us leave for a few hours.

And…that pretty much sums up my childhood. My dad wanted control over everyone and everything, and my mom was the epitome of mercurial.

More than anything, I wish my mom would have followed through with one of her many threats of divorce. My mom is far from perfect, but things would have been so much better if they hadn’t been together.

Anyway, that’s a big ball of yuck to think about this afternoon.

Thanks and Some Good Things

Many thanks to everyone who commented on my last post or emailed me with encouragement. I appreciate it all very much.

With an eye on trying to feel like me again, I am stoked to see Wild Flag tonight in Champaign, Illinois (about 3 hours from here). I didn’t think I would be able to go, but then other plans changed. The earth shifted on its axis and finally something is happening in my favor.

The sounds of Carrie Brownstein and Janet Weiss as Sleater-Kinney were a huge part of my late teens/early twenties, and I’m happy that they’re back together (and that they’ve picked up a couple of equally awesome bandmates). After I downloaded the album a few weeks ago, I nearly cried from happiness. The music offered something familiar exactly when I needed such a thing.

How can one feel bad at a concert like this:

 

I love you Carrie Brownstein and Janet Weiss (and the other two women who are equally important but I can’t remember their names):

 

The other good thing is that I started week 5 of my Couch to 5K program. Today’s schedule included two 5-minute runs and one 6-minute run. The next day features an 8-minute run segment. How does one go from 6 minutes to 8 minutes? What happened to 7 minutes??

I enjoy the progress, but sometimes I think, whoa whoa whoa, what’s happening? I’m actually running for more than 10 seconds at a time? It kind of blows my mind.

And if I’m not careful, it also blows out my hip. I constantly have to concentrate on not letting my left leg rotate medially. Part of my motivation for running is to tighten the muscles around my hip. Note that my physical therapist did not suggest this; it is my own scheme. I think the combination of PT exercises and running is strengthening my little hip muscles tremendously. While they’re sore after running, it’s more of a growing-stronger sore.

Thanks for reading and listening!

Absence

Dear friends,

I apologize for my recent absence from this blog. Writing here is something of which I think often, but have done little.

I’ve had a cloud of sadness around me of late, and it makes writing difficult. Where I once had sunshine and laughter and dreams, I now have tears. The sadness hangs around like ill-fitting clothes. It fills my lungs until I can’t breathe, and its dark edges black out the day.

This is not how I want to be at all. Please know that I’m trying to get back to who I am, and to how I want my life. It might be a while, and I do appreciate your thoughts.

I want to be back before too long and to write of good, sunshine-y things. In the meantime, keep knitting, eating good food, and laughing.

All my best,
Carrie