proteanme

Started off with my two favorite fishnets: Liza and Tim Curry. Then it was on to Jonathan Groff for campiness. Aretha for authenticity. Bruno Mars and Anderson Paak in Silk Sonice for the love of a fan. And Brittany because fuck you misogyny.

It wasn’t a plan. Others were in the rotation, there was some Janet and Beyonce and Kelly Clarkson. Did you know Prince performed if I was Your Girlfriend on Oprah. I didn’t think I would live in a world without Prince, which sounds dramatic. But Prince was so many things. He defined my coming out part of my life.

Sometimes I go a for a while, as in years, without actively giving two shits about music. I don’t put together playlists or go to shows or get my old records or CDs. I don’t pick up my guitar. I don’t try and write and song. And then I hear something and music door cracks open.

High temps and head winds. It’s like the whole ride home was uphill. Phew. At least it wasn’t windy on the ride in to work. When it’s a hard ride in, then there is an added component of dread to contend with for the ride home. And dread is like adding lead weights to my legs.

Tonight’s ride home was the second time I hooked up my mini bluetooth speaker at the start of my ride, right out of the bike corral. When I first started riding with my mini JBL this summer, on evening work commutes, I would wait until I was clear of the heavier bike traffic to pull over and turn on my Bike Jams play list. Just feeling a little self-conscious about drawing more attention to myself, which I decided was ridiculous, given who I am. Just walking into a bathroom, I draw attention to myself. So jamming out from the start of my commute home, even if it does turn heads.

There’s 1000 things I want to talk about, but what I’ve got today is a shout out to some of my favorite podcasts.

Another Round

Code Switch

About Race

The Undefeated

The Read

It’s cold. Which is what happens here in the winter when the rain stops and the sun comes out. Especially if the wind picks up. Shivers. Even the puddles at the dog park were frozen over. So starts 2016 – all bundled up and wearing sunglasses.

I have a plan for this year. Read more books, start writing again, make some art, keep playing music, work out more than not working out, make food, see my friends more often, get rid of some stuff, stay curious, say yes more than no.

It all came together today. All these strands of things I’ve been thinking about and letting simmer in the back of my mind. It’s so gratifying. I have this story I’ve been telling myself about myself for what seems like forever. And the basic outline is that when it comes to intimate relationships, I’m somehow broken. I have different versions of this story. There’s numb me and checked out me and shut down me. And for years now I’ve been convinced that I just can’t do closeness or can’t sustain it or can’t nurture it along in a real way. And today I was vaguely thinking about what I wrote yesterday about contradictions and also thinking about something MTB said, and it dawned on me that this is such a bullshit story and I’m so sorry I’ve saddled myself with this crap. Because the thing is, numb me, shut down me, checked out me – that’s not some inherent flaw – that’s me coping with choices that don’t fit, that’s me trying to make untenable contradictions tenable, that’s me trying to convince myself that a situation where it doesn’t feel safe to open up and be vulnerable is because I don’t know how to do those things, as opposed to the situation being unsafe. Checked out me is me being in all the way in my head and dismissing my gut. Shut down me is me hitting my logic hard and ignoring my intuition. Not that these things have to be mutually exclusive, but good god, I know there’s something wrong when I go numb. And the big ass lie I’ve been telling myself is that something is wrong with me.

I’m not letting myself off the hook for my many flaws and short comings. I am so incredibly imperfect. For fucking sure. But of course I can open my heart to someone. Of course I can trust someone. Of course I can nurture and be nurtured and struggle along with people who will speak to all of that, who can hold me accountable to bring those qualities to the table. And of course, totally of course, I figure out when and who to do things with and and who and when not to. I know there’s no guarantee I won’t get fucking hurt in the process. Right?! Best case scenario, fucked up shit happens to someone at some point, but life is short and hopefully I can figure out ways to handle my hurts and losses. The thing is I am not inherently broken. Not at this point in my life. And I really don’t need this fucked up story any more.

It’s just so fucking funny that it’s taken me soooo long to figure this out. But maybe it’s turning 50 or the cusp of my 1/2 birthday. And/or looking at the possibilities that are around me now. And/or having friends who will hang out with me for 8 hours straight and let me whack the crap out of shit in their yard with a machete. And/or the magic tram and bike rides and sunsets and night skies and food someone made or ate.

I should be asleep. Seriously. I got so little sleep last night. But tonight I promised the midwives I would tackle at least a little freelance  web work for them and I avoided doing it until late and now it’s 11:32pm. I am operating on . . . I don’t know what, exactly. I keep thinking I am going to enter an alternate universe any moment now. In fact, driving home from dropping Remy off at the airport tonight, I hit a stretch of Powell and all the sudden I thought “where the fuck am I?” I actually felt like I was driving in Indianapolis, like maybe down Kessler or Keystone, which I rationally knew wasn’t true, but it really felt like that’s where I was and that feeling lasted for maybe 20 blocks. At some point I just started enjoying it, like “ok, I’m in. Because how often is this trippy feeling gonna happen?”

I started a list today that I wish someone would have started for me years ago, which maybe sounds whinier than I mean to be or feel about it. And I’m not even sure why I’m blogging about it because it’s kind of cheesy and a little “inner voice” and . . . oh I don’t know. . . it’s really just a list of what works for me to be me and how to be more deeply alive and present or awake in world. If you’ve been reading my blog, you can guess some of the things on the list: riding my bike, food (making it, eating it, growing it), music, etc. Even though I’ve got nothing to base it this on, I actually think it’s going to be helpful when I am feeling stuck or more neurotic than even I can tolerate or in some stupid funk. I think I will see ride my bike or walk and I will be able to say myself “get on the bike, dude” and then actually get on it.  Also, it feels like I made this list because I am preparing for something, but what exactly – rain? winter? more productive writing? Or maybe I am just trying to be a real adult and help myself take care of my heart and psyche. The list has been an interesting and unexpected experience and I’ve decided to just go with it. Embrace the sincerity of it all.

Ok, now it’s midnight and I am yawning. It is ridiculous to be up and blogging right now. I love this song playing at this second, though. From 2009, Atlas Sound kind of channeling Beach Boys.

Until I write my own ode to the midwest this weill have to do for. Just because your state is flat doesn’t mean you’re in the Midwest.

My girl in western Mass could really use your help.

Joy.

There is joy even when you’re grieving. Sometimes right in the midst of it, like at the funeral. And sometimes right along side it, like when a friend has a baby and you meet him for the first time and he smiles at you. Or another friend gets married and you fly home and gather around with a bunch of other friends to say “right the fuck on.”

I was sitting with Kate watching Ned and Kristi dance their first dance and wondering what were they talking about up there. We speculated for a little bit and then lapsed into, well, I can’t speak for Kate, but I lapsed into something like delight. Because Ned looked so damn happy.

I’m not sure Ned left Kristi’s side for more than a few minutes the whole night. I remember saying to Pat and Rachel when we were flying home that it felt like Ned had been waiting his whole life to love someone the way he loves Kristi and he just wasn’t gonna hold back.

It’s something else, man. I’m so glad i got to be there.