Tuesday, March 24, 2015

An Autobiography of Sorts






Hey all.
I'm doing a writing exercise thing with some friends.
Guess what the first assignment was?
Well, you can't guess cuz you're reading this and not interacting with me live, so I'll just type it here.
Autobiography.

It's...not that brief..but I'm not seven years old.

So..read on if you wish.

I'm bad at titles and introductions, and I decided to do this writing challenge without realizing the first challenge is essentially one long introduction. Whoopsiedoodles. 

I guess this is the part where I give you a brief autobiography. 
I am Marielle. 
Legally, it's Mariel, but we'll trifle with those things later. 
Extra LE for better pronunciation and making things simpler. 

I was born in Colorado, right in the foothills of Fort Collins. My mom was all kinds of in love with my dad, my dad loved her right back. He also loved the mountains, and had a kind heart.  I was born around Thanksgiving, and a week later he was gone. An accident. Which I don't mention much, but is now part of this autobiography exercise. That feels a little weird, honestly. 

So then I was back in Chicagoland around my mom's family, and that's how I grew up. My grandma is the matriarch, but she doesn't rule with an iron fist. Instead, she's gentle and kind and funny, and people just seem to do what she wants because they respect her, and that's the kind of woman I'd like to be. Even when I've been the maddest at someone, she's been able to make me see their side, even for a moment. 

Then there's my momma. She got to Colorado working on a ranch, and that's how she got to meeting my dad. She's artistic and a writer and stubborn and strong, and as much as I might not think I'm like her sometimes, I am. When I was younger she wrote a children's book about me which I love to this day, and even though I'm a bee in it and I'm terrified of bees...well, it works. She was a single mom and I know that was hard. I know at times we didn't have much, and I remember eating lots of Lunchables and stuff but things always seemed like an adventure and she loved me lots, and that's the part I take from it, even if she remembers more of the harder stuff. 

Being an only child is a little weird. In that it doesn't seem weird til you get around other kids. I had a HUGE imagination and was always an Indian in a tribe exploring the forest or a horse running in the pasture or a detective figuring out who stole the diamonds, and I rarely cared if I was the only one in the roles. I did science experiments and I rode my bike too fast and I skinned my knees and caught butterflies and made forts and collected Hot Wheels. I had Barbies but my main interest in them was doing their hair. 

I wasn't around that many little kids in the neighborhoods I grew up in, so I ended up talking to adults more, and since my mom read to me so much, when i got into school I was really really ahead of the game, and that made me weird. One or two kids were weird with me.  In first grade, I met my best friend forever, Dawn. I think I was too young to remember what it was that made me so attached to her at that age, but I do remember I'd hated her the year before. We went to a very small Christian school.  About 13 kids per class if you were lucky. The teachers were amazing and really, really cared, and could interact with us in ways that many schools just...don't allow for (though not in a creepy way.)  

Dawn and I were completely inseparable. We spent all our time together to the point we got in trouble for not spending time with anyone else. We wrote each other notes and made up phrases and were both horses running in pastures. We watched the Little Mermaid 76 times when we WERE keeping track and still to this day could probably both recite it. We went to Six Flags together. It was awesome.  I had some other friends too, but none were as close as she was. 

She moved schools in time for middle school, and it sucked. We kept in touch with a notebook we passed back and forth a la Babysitter's Club, and we still saw each other lots, but the school part was hard. 

Somewhere in there I started to play in band, and I was good at it. Gawky skinny clarinet player with giant glasses. I was a cheerleader (whatever that means in middle school at a tiny private school.)

My mom got remarried, and I got a sister and brother. Which was.awesome. Even though it wasn't the easiest thing, I'm still so grateful to know what it's like to be a big sister and have a brother and a wonderful sister who I still have amazing relationships with today, and to know a new family as my own. 

 Problem, at least during middle school?

I was not popular. In fact, I'd probably isolated myself too much and found myself very on the outside. I was miserable. Quite miserable. 
My band teacher was a refuge in all of this. She helped me deal with the whole middle schooler drama, plus the no dad thing, plus the unpopular thing. 
At the same time, a more permanent "adopted dad" was coming into my life in the form of the youth pastor at the church we attended. One day when I felt like I hit rock bottom, he was standing there. And I was waiting for a lecture or a sermon or to be ignored, and he opened his arms to hug me. And I sobbed. But I felt like that's what it'd be like to have a dad, and maybe I'd found that. 

And he did and does do that for me, though I had to figure out how it worked and how to approach it. He's kicked tires on my cars, helped me through breakups and generally given me great advice ever since then.  And great hugs. He's wonderful at those.  He's showed up at car accidents and hospitals and I have no doubt he'll continue to be there, even though lately I've been sorta distanced from him.  But I have no doubts in that relationship and I'm glad for it. 

My parents made me go to public high school. I'm glad I did. I'm even more glad I played an instrument, as it got me an instant cadre of friends. 80 some friends right off the bat. Another band director who was amazing and able to help guide me through things I was struggling with and make me a better musician. I had a classic 1950's relationship that started my sophomore year. He asked me out in gym, and I said yes in the hallway on the way to English class. He was my first kiss. He smelled like Irish Spring soap and motor oil.  He had an orange Pontiac Sunfire.  I wore his class ring around my neck. When we got caught in the rain when his car broke down, he put his letter jacket on me. He carried my books and got in near fights with guys who tried to mess with me.  Seriously. I don't know how I time warped. 

Previous to that I had a crush on someone and I never thought it'd work. Well, when I least expected it, it did. Sort of. I broke up with the 50s guy knowing it wasn't right if I had feelings for someone else and I never felt that bad in my life. 

But nothing happened. So I stayed single, stayed totally in love with this guy.  A week after graduation, he literally swept me off my feet.  And two months later, we broke up. 

Or did we? 
We did. Then we didn't. Then we did. That chapter lasts way too long. I didn't ever want to not be his friend, but I probably never should have dated him. Still, first love. That's complicated.  More when he breaks your heart (and several others). More when he's still an integral part of a circle of friends that's sacred to you.  Speaking of that.

Another best friend...Patty. She came around on a field trip to Chicago. She bought a cello on this trip,  from a guy who thought there were going to be demons entering his shop from Michigan Avenue. I carried the cello for her along with some other friends. She dared me to stand in the fountain at the Art Institute (also right on Michigan Avenue), so I did, and she bought me dinner.  She's fantastic and weird and wonderful, and opened me up in a lot of ways. 

Our little circle had bonfires all after high school. Religiously, from March til November if weather allowed. We'd drink or not, and different people would guest star or not, but that group was and is incredibly important to me, and they know who they are. I think, in a time of such change, with college and "the real world" butting in, it was great to have that home base to come to once a week, even with its own dramas and problems. 

I worked at Pizza Hut and studied business, thinking I'd go into marketing. I got my first real job at Hewitt. I was good at it, and I advanced, and made money. Oh, and I met someone. Someone who made me believe in love at first sight, and then question everything. Someone who I felt like I fit with from moment 1 and spent so, so much time with. 

I was on an internet forum at the same time, and I made some lifelong friendships there, including my mathy, moosey friend Joey, the always confusing/amusing cavehamster, my sweet friend Rhonda, my practically-family jwing...too many to name, and so many of whom have shaped my life in different ways, including my partner in writing crime here, another Dawn, whose floor I have slept on and kids I have met and who I have plotted and schemed with. Good things.

I moved in with Patty for a while even, which was awesome, and made me gain more family in her brother and mom.

My job kinda went south, and I quit. After I went home, I made a joke to a friend of his that now that I was destitute and jobless I should just move out West. Well, he took the joke out of it and offered that I rent a room in New Mexico, which was also the state that this newfound flame was. Who also knows who he is. In any case, I moved. 

SOOOOO many people thought I moved for him. I didn't. Though skipped over in this "brief" autobiography, I hit the mountains of Colorado again at 16 on a band trip and my life changed. My heart lit up and I knew I needed the mountains.  So despite it being crazy, short notice, and supposedly because of a guy...I packed up my jeep, got my cat as my co-pilot and made a 23 hour trip to Los Alamos. 

It was...insane. New Mexico was an entirely different planet. The plants weren't the same, the lake wasn't East because there WAS no lake, I was at 7500 feet at my job and 6800 at my house...and I could run for miles on end without running into a single soul. The sunsets were fire in the sky, and the air was dry and smelled of sage and juniper. I...was high on it. New culture, new lifestyle. I slowed down. I didn't have a job for some time, but then I was a baker, and a fish counter girl, and an art store clerk, and though I struggled so much financially and even a little health wise during that time, I learned more than I ever thought I would. And I saw that flame, and that fire burned, at least for me, just the way it had. 

And circumstances changed and I had to move to Socorro, NM. And it was weird but great. And my friends and his friends were the same now, and that was really ok. On top of which, he was willing to let his friends really really be mine. Lifelong friendships formed. I am so grateful for every moment of that time. I'm so grateful for all the people it brought in my life, and every moment I spent with him too, which I hope he knows. 

When that came to an end, it felt like my world did, too. I hadn't ever really felt quite like that. 
Just like that, I was back in Illinois. -20 weather and not much else. 

Enter the boy. The man, really. But I remember him as he was in his freshman, my sophomore year. Quiet cute guy on the steps of the band room reading. Well, he played trumpet. And he was smart and sweet. And we were friends, though not super close ones, all through high school. He went away, he came back. We kept in touch no matter where he was, and that got to be pretty far away. 

Meanwhile, I moved Patty out to Washington State and in the process got to know her brother a hell of a lot better, which I'm grateful for, because he's cool as hell and we had a pretty epic adventure driving a giant moving truck from IL to WA. I was worried we'd have nothing to talk about but now we have inside jokes. It's kinda awesome. 

I love picking up friends along life's way. It's my favorite thing about life. 

I felt a little lonely without her. 
He made me get coffee to cheer me up. He made me get out of deerfield and do things. We made our friendship stronger. He left for Texas, and we stayed in touch every.single.day with almost no exception. 

Dawn and I re-gained our daily communication, and are friends and confidantes. We make each other brownies and drink wine and cry and laugh together. We buy Kermits and take them to restaurants and take pictures of them together. 

My friend Holly from back in the Christian school days came back from overseas. We were both kinda heartbroken at the same time, and we both ended up working together where I'd worked at Walgreens  (and also met a bunch of unforgettable people who I hope I'll call friends for a long time).

Somewhere in there, in 2013, I did this weird thing to fix my heartbreak. I decided to do one thing I'd always wanted to do but had talked myself out of. It was this really weird thing called GISHWHES. It's an international scavenger hunt where you get paired up with friends and strangers and do really insane things like try to get the CEO of Groupon to wear a tux and dance to single ladies and send it to you for points.  And try to get the people on the ISS to hold a sign with your weird team's name on it. And hug people. And donate money and all the items on a registry to a soldier whose house burned down...

And somewhere in there my courage went up by about a thousand. And I saw a tweet about writing for the A&E section of a website I was a devoted reader of, Chicagoist. So I sent in some samples without hardly blinking an eye, because after all, I was trying to get CEOS to dance to Single Ladies like it was normal, so why the hell was trying for my dream job so hard?

And I got it. And I have gone so many amazing places, to so many amazing events, met so many great people...had and have great editors...have done amazing interviews with people, and gotten to treat friends to things I could never afford...what an amazing adventure!! All because of a weird scavenger hunt Misha Collins brewed up in his head. 

Meanwhile, Holly and I worked through the relationship/life/heartbreak thing together and met people (or reconnected with them, in my case...that same boy from the band stairs...) and got happier, and had weird doubts and fun pizza nights and beers together. We got into relationships, and...well...I just went to her wedding in November, and it was gorgeous and perfect and I was so, so amazingly happy for her, seeing her dreams come true out of all the hardships she had before. 

Now...well...now I still write for Chicagoist. Walgreens went away, which was sad, but I'm pursuing some more dream jobs. I'm in a relationship with someone who loves me in ways I still struggle to understand. He's proud to be with me, and when I do a wiggly "got the zucchini" dance at Jewel, he pulls me in for a kiss right there in the produce aisle. Sometimes he does an "I have some ice cream" dance, and I do the same thing back in reverse. We're leaving for the north woods of WI ..tomorrow now, and I'm excited for a bit of time away from "real life" with him for now, though I'm grateful to be a part of his every day, even when that's hard and we drive each other crazy. 

I feel like, even if I don't know what the hell is next, it's ok enough to not freak out, and that...has been 32 years in the making. 
I'll figure it out, and now I know, in writing this, who helped me get there and who I hope I'll keep walking with.
You know who you all are. ;)


Sunday, February 22, 2015

The Good (Which I promise, triumphs)


Well, it's been about a month since my "the bad" post.  I feel bad about that, actually, because I'd meant to follow the bad with a good chaser. Thing is, things were still a little bit nutty then. Thing is though, also, that things are always just a little off-center and life's what you make it, right?

I didn't want to abandon the whole "the good" post either though, so here we are. And in one month, things have changed again.

My contract with the job I hated ended. I actually ended it about a week earlier than it probably would have ended, to take care of family matters here, and I felt pretty ok about it. Randomly, the "bad" IDES experience resulted in me finally getting it when I'd already gotten back on my feet a little with the temp job, so I was able to save a little, and that's helping me now to be able to breathe a little easier even though I'm still looking for the next job.

Originally that money was earmarked towards a new computer, but we'll keep that on the back burner for now, since this computer works, and I have access to at least one more that more than works, and even allows me to game and photo edit a lot faster than I could on here. So yay!

Let's continue on our rol with the good, eh?
It's good to be grateful and take stock in what you have.

Friends. One thing I did resolve in the New Year and have been keeping to more, is to try to make sure I make more time for my friends. I do still need to do some work on correspondence with the ones I am not nearby, because that's not really at the level I'd hope it was yet, but some amends were made where they needed to be, some catching up has been done, and I'm still really committed to expanding my time with friends. One of the best things I've done to that end this year was going to Erika's birthday party, where I got to travel just a little (something I'll never not have a bug for, and I really haven't taken too many road trips in the Civvie yet...sooo....) and hang out with her, Stephen, Trevor and Sami, who's an awesome new friend I made this year, and happens to be Trevor's girlfriend, as well as Amanda.  It's my group of beer girls, my fun, funny sensitive friend Stephen, a touch of Round Lake and a true silly person after my own heart in Trevor, and a new, energetic and super fun friend in Sami. We had a great time, even though it was a shorter trip. It reminded me just how much a night with friends can do for you, you know?

I'm hoping to get to Madison this year, as well as back out to Freeport, and my ultimate goal would be Seattle to see Patty. I want to go to New Mexico too but that's pretty much constantly true, and I want to make sure I don't miss opportunities to see other people because of my magnet pull out there.

Family! Over the holidays, I got a chance to see my sister! I also got to finally meet my lil' nephew Caleb, her second son. Her being in NC and me being without travel money and time has meant I'd not gotten to see him, and he's all big and curly headed and fun and funny, so it was wonderful to get that chance. Meanwhile, just over in Rockford, this year was exciting with the introduction of ANOTHER nephew, when Diana had lil' Callaghan. Seeing my brother as a dad (and he's already a great one, which I'd known he would be since he was like, ten...) is awesome. I still owe them a dinner so I'm hoping to bring the boyfriend, cook something up, and have a great time.

Writing! - I'm still getting fantastic opportunities with Chicagoist. For Christmas, my mom put together a really nice portfolio of my work for them, and I'm excited to have that as well. I'm still doing the museum beat and the Arts and Entertainment thing, with an upcoming museum exhibition preview dinner and the International Home and Housewares show, as well as a comedy show, on the agenda for the next week or two here. Should be busy and exciting! I still love writing, and I'm working on making my writing better and better as we go along. Gotta tighten things up and one thing I do need to do there is do more. My posting has been less frequent than it was, I think because of all the upheaval and ..dare I say mild depression?...and that needs to change. Writing is what I want to do, and I can't let that taper off for other stuff. No excuses. Please, kick my ass, readers, if you see me slacking here.

Love!- This is a big one. It's unusual for me to have a lot to say about it here. For years I was in these quasi-relationships. Some where people didn't even acknowledge what they were, and I felt unworthy or not good enough because I felt hidden. Like I was good enough to be with in secret, but not to meet the friends and family or not for any sort of real commitment. And that sucks. The worst case scenario with this was a guy who hid me so he could also maintain 2 other "long term" "committed" relationships with his girlfriend(s). I'm glad I'm out of that picture, even though I still feel for the girlfriends who are in the dark about it, and wish they had the full picture and could make decisions about their life with all the information.

Then there was the "everything but" stuff.  Where you're the one, day in and day out, you're the one that they confide in, the one they spend their time with, but somehow...not the one they're dating. There's a lot of reasons that can happen, and it's not always just that simple, but some part of me always wants to be like "ok, and if there are romantic feelings AND the rest...why can't you just say it?"

And as silly as it seems to want to be called someone's girlfriend for real, by them, with no weirdness, it's a big deal if you've ever felt like that. It's not silly. It's nice. It's nice to be able to clearly define it. It's nice to be able to be loved out in the open. It's wonderful to have someone tell you they love you while you're going about your work day, before you go to sleep, or when you wake up.  It's even nicer when you know how true that is.

I am dating a wonderful guy. I'm dating a guy who loves his family unconditionally, even if and when there are problems, and would do anything for them, no matter how he's feeling at the moment. I'm dating someone who loves animals, who can outpun me, outnerd me, and very nearly outcuddle me, though I am still the reigning champion of cuddling, thankyouverymuch.  I'm dating a guy who loves to cook, and even better, loves to cook with me. Some nights all we do is spend our time in the kitchen whipping up dinner or pies or trying a bread recipe. Lately we've been trying to make mozzerella. And it's not working yet, but we're keepin' on it.

That's another thing. Because of the dysfunction of so many of my relationships, it's an adjustment being in a long term one that really works. We really are partners. I'm used to fighting meaning we take a two week break from each other whether that works or not, or just stuffing it. But we don't do that. And we're still learning HOW to do it right, but the important part is that we're both trying, and neither of us is looking for an out. Right now we're in closer quarters than ever, and it's an adjustment, but even with that, we're able to figure it out and come out on top with cozy nights spent laughing and gaming and kissing and cooking. And it's wonderful, despite the stresses and the strains.

Neither of us is where we'd ideally be in life. He's got a ton on his plate, and the types of things he's dealing with are things a lot of people our age haven't even begun to face yet, and he's doing it with compassion and grace. I so much admire this about him. I love to come beside him and be his partner as he faces it, and I know that we've become closer and stronger due to some of the struggles. It makes me so confident that our future can really be amazing, and enduring, and that makes me really happy.


So yeah, there is and was bad and ugly. There is and was and will be hardships. But when I really look at it, and maybe I need to do this  more often...I've got a hell of a lot- an amazing man I love, a great family and wonderful friends, and a chance to do the "job" I really want to do, to write....

I wouldn't have guessed that I'd be where I am in life right now, and I wish I could find a steady, decent job and wish that we could be someplace we both want to be and without some of the burdens and stresses, but...I'll take the bad and the ugly for all that good.


Monday, January 19, 2015

The Bad and The Ugly



So...this is a blog. A personal blog, at that. And I intend to use it as such. Therefore, it'll not always be me farting rainbows.

I've been attempting to actually review my year, my 2014, because I wanted to look back and feel positive about my progress.

Every time I sit down to do it, it seems, the recent troubles that have been brewing get in the way, and I end up wanting to write...well, this, instead.

So, because I'm finding out that the only thing that makes me feel better is writing in a lot of instances, lately...here we are.

Again, there are no floaty hearts, rainbows or fuzzy kittens in this post.  It's a cleanse, kinda like you do at the beginning of the year to try to pretend you're going to make things better and get a clean start. Only I need to get serious and actually get a clean start.

On the up side, at least I had an appropriate photo for this post.

I failed a lot this year.
I think I was fine until October, when I got laid off.

Every time this happens (which has been way too often since getting to Illinois from New Mexico), I say I'm not gonna let it drag me into depression or the "not good enough" or the "failed at life" mindset, and it seems to creep in and get me regardless. And I spiral, regardless, and withdraw, and think that's the answer.

Well, this time, it's affected everything, my relationships too, and it's not okay.

I was fighting with the state for 80 days for money I really, really needed. I was in the office all.the.time. trying to get that to work. I got hired for a new temp job, which turned out to be a curse because of how often I'd have to try and get out of coming in to go deal with state stuff I couldn't ignore. Consequently, I'd have my recruiter and the new office team and managers thinking I was a slacker or liar or whatnot. It doesn't feel good.  I finally, out of desperation, brought in every one of the letters from unemployment and a full record of all my contact to them.

It was not a little. It was an inch thick.  My phone habits were this:  work as a temp making outbound calls all day. Get in the car to commute home. Call unemployment, be on hold the whole way home only to either get disconnected, or to talk to someone new and get a whole new story.

It wrecked me. Suddenly I felt completely wasted when I got home.  My Chicagoist work fell off, as much as that's the thing I want to do the most, the direction I want to take my career in. I felt crazy, and I felt unheard.  At one point the state kept asserting that I had an out of state ID.  This point in time I'd already been to the office 3 weeks in a row, WITH my Illinois ID. I'd sent tons of emails. I'd faxed the copy of the ID three times. And I was getting letters near daily saying I was denied for being from out of state.

I quit Wind Ensemble. I don't regret that choice right now except that I know how much music makes me feel better and more human. I made that choice because I wanted to focus on my significant other, my Chicagoist work, and other aspects of my life that I felt like were already being neglected in one way or another. I wanted to make myself more available for that, and I felt like if I gave myself more breathing room maybe I could do that. I just felt like I couldn't really give it my all, and I have been sick of not giving things my all. When I join again, I want to join a strong member of the group, able to really contribute the way I wanted to.

I was fighting for the money partially to be a part of a friend's wedding, but somewhere along the way, in lots of stupid misunderstandings and too many phone numbers, emails and facebook posts, I dropped the ball. I caused a huge rift I'm still not sure has healed. I was glad to be able to be at the wedding at all, but as much as I try not to have regrets, watching the bridal party give speeches and dance and be a part of that day like we always said we would be for each other, I can't help but feel like a really shitty friend. I hope I can find some way to make it up to her.

I've been trying to figure out what friendships I've dropped the ball in and upkeep them. I keep feeling pressured to introduce everyone to my boyfriend, and I want to, but not as a way to prove I really have one, and I end up feeling resentful even though that might be the reason, and I don't want to have to explain why it hasn't worked yet.  I think about it sometimes and feel like it's a silly pressure to feel, considering in a lot of cases, I didn't meet a friend's significant other until they were married, or if i did it was a quick wave.  I have a boyfriend, we have a lot on our plates, we love each other, and we make it work. If we aren't able to come out and meet and greet, that has to be okay, and when we are, I'll be glad to.

I know there are people that wanted to do things with me that I withdrew from, and I hope they don't feel like it was because of the boyfriend, because I should be the one to blame for that. Entirely.
I was feeling like I just needed to breathe and like I was under pressure and like I was drowning. I should not have been so out of touch so long, and if you are reading this and felt hurt by that, I accept full responsibility. It's my fault, and I will do better.

I'm coming into the New Year (capitals?) with more regret than I wanted to carry, fearful that I've been a bad person, a bad friend, and that I'm consistently jeopardizing my relationships with the people I love the most. I come into the new year wondering who I am, and if it's a much worse picture than the one I had of myself, which wasn't a Rembrandt to begin with.

And that's the real story.
I want to do better.
I will do better.
Words don't mean a thing, so I guess you just have to decide if you'll be around when I do better or not.





Thursday, December 4, 2014

On the Gilmore Girls, Cheating, and Being Yourself



It's been a while, blogfriends. But somewhere between the hair dye and the fact that I'm rewatching Gilmore Girls, I came across something on my mind.

I swear, the fumes aren't getting to me.

Here's the deal. I love Gilmore Girls. I watched it all religiously when it aired, and I've seen it umpty billion times since then. The boyfriend has come to know it as my "me" time when we're not doing something together. But, in the past, there were a few years I couldn't watch it, and wouldn't.

And in rewatching it, it makes me mad the things that I let someone take away from me.

See, the reason I didn't watch the show for a while is because I had this friend who really liked it. We used to shop together and laugh and talk.  And through some set of high school circumstances, she ended up dating the first guy I ever loved. Maybe I told her that, I thought I had, but maybe I hadn't. That's not really important.

What is important is this.  That guy...was a cheater. Maybe not at first, when we eventually went out. Maybe there were 6 months of non-cheating, when things really were as idyllic as I saw them through the eyes of a high school graduate/pre-college chick.

But then there were weird things. I'd come by to surprise him and hear a girl on the other side of the door, and he "wouldn't be there."

One night, when I was at his house for a date with him, the couch and a good movie, I happened to walk by his computer, and his screensaver was the Gilmore Girls. And I knew, in that moment, that he was also dating this now former friend of mine. But, as you do when you're young and really desperately in love, I...explained it away. He said it was something his friend put up as a joke. It's amazing the things you can explain away as truth when you know they're lies, isn't it?

From that point on, I wouldn't watch the show. It just reminded me of the things I wasn't.  Like...the only girl who loved that show. The only girl for him. It seemed like all the things I were were the same things this girl was, down to the same interests and talents. But somehow, it also seemed like she did it better.

Thing is? He was cheating on her too. He continues to cheat, a la Don Draper, and find his life quite fantastic as it is that way. And I let him take so, so much from me.

I let him convince me that I wasn't enough. I let him convince me that this girl with her talents and interests and things was somehow superior to me, and I let him be the thing that lost me a friend, over something that wouldn't last.

In other relationships, that feeling of not being good enough has carried over, and it's caused problems.

I'm not quite sure what I wanted to say or get to with this, because it seems obvious.

Maybe I want any guys reading this to know what kinds of effects it has.  That years later, a person can feel like they gave up a part of themselves to believe a lie they wanted to be true. That they could lose confidence in themselves because of the bad actions of another person. I wonder how many girls have felt that due to just him? I know of a few, but I fear there's even more.

It reminds me to be grateful that there were men who weren't like that to me.  More grateful still for the amazing guy in my life now. Not only has he been a faithful friend for years, he's a faithful love. I don't doubt that he loves me, and I don't doubt his honesty. I have less doubt about being enough, though I admit, I haven't quite gotten past that hurdle, at least not all the time. When I fall though, he's there to remind me I am enough. When we fight, I don't get ignored for weeks, we talk and sometimes we yell...but we figure it out, and we move on.

Maybe I'm talking to a girl who was cheated on. If that's you, watch Gilmore Girls. Listen to the voice that tells you something's wrong.  Don't go overboard and be a crazy snoop or cause problems where there aren't any, but don't ignore the obvious... "electrical storms" that keep him away from the phone...more business travel than Donald Trump...mysterious phone calls he has to take but away from you constantly....listen to yourself. Value yourself. Realize that someone cheating on you isn't a reflection on you, it's a reflection on them and their bad character.

Don't lose friends. Don't lose you.

Watch Gilmore Girls. Because it's a good show, because it's something just for you, and because you deserve it.

And if you're the guy? Hey, screw you. Grow up and realize that your actions affect others, because they do. Then, take a long look at the good things you squandered, and realize you can't ever get them back. Because, my friend, you're the loser. Plain and simple.




Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Just sayin'


Here's a thing I wanted. Something I wanted for a long time now actually.

I thought I hated PDA. To some extent I do. But I don't hate when for some explicable reason, the dance of the "buying the zucchini" in Jewel makes him kiss me right there in the produce section.

I wanted someone my grandma would like. And I got the one who handmade chocolate ice cream for her after her tooth-pulling and then drove with me to cheer her up and deliver it. He got the coveted cheek kiss, which is still the best thing I've ever seen in my life, my little 5 foot tall Polish grandma pulling his 6 foot frame down to her for it.

I didn't want to be the girl who got mad if they didn't get a text or call every day, because that was too much to expect out of anyone. I *am* now the girl who gets a text or a call every day, and doesn't go to sleep without hearing "I love you."

I was the girl who was scared of the time when my friends would meet my boyfriend, and who didn't think that time would exist in the first place.  I wondered if personalities would mesh and if they'd suddenly become "not my boyfriend" or non-affectionate. Instead, I saw one of my best friends and my boyfriend hug, laugh, and I heard him say "I'm really happy with her" completely unprompted.

I was the girl who was sitting on stage with the clarinet knowing my family would be there, but wishing that someone would realize what it meant to me for them to see my doing something I loved and that I felt really good at. The one who dreaded the doling out of comp tickets because I knew I *wanted* that seat for the person I loved, but it was so often a waste of a ticket. Now I'm the girl who has someone who'll go with her at early call time, who'll hold the clarinet, who'll sit with my family, and who has the concerts in his phone the end of the new season.

He's who I can come into the room and make a weird face at. He's who I can abuse the English language with (intensely abuse) and laugh til we both fall over. He covers me with my favorite blanket and then his to make me cozy. We can pun so hard that we make people leave the room. We've held hands in beautiful parks and hospital hallways, and we're still holding hands.

I think this is actually love. I *know* this is actually the best year and the best relationship that I've ever had.
Even thinking about the fact that I hear someone say (and mean) "I love you" every day means SO much to me.

So...that's my story. That's the most amazing thing in my life in a year where a lot of  crazy-good changes came. This is the year I started Chicagoist, bought a car...but...this...is my best thing.  Happy anniversary to you, my love. And to all those whose eyes fall on this...know that there are really, truly good people out there. Cuz there are. And when you find them, hang on.

Having a real partner in life is amazing. I'm still learning how it works, but I'm loving that learning every day.

Monday, September 8, 2014

RIP Hotshot, You were a good boy.



This beautiful boy was Hotshot. He was one of our family dogs growing up, and he's no longer with us now, which breaks my heart. When I was little, I was afraid of big dogs, and Hotshot's father, Sparky, was what broke that fear and showed me dogs were awesome companions. Hotshot showed me what it was like to have a canine best friend. We raised him from a little puppy who could fit in our hands, who used to climb in the dryer and lay on the warm clothes to a big, beautiful, sweet dog who could jump six feet in the air from a stand-still.

He was the dog who rushed to my side to help me when I got a rebar jammed into my bare foot, who curled up at my side and snuggled me when I was sick, and was a ball of love.

When my amazing first kitty died, I borrowed HotShot for the day, and he laid with me while I cried and bounced along the North Shore bike trail with me with his doggie smile when I was ready to face the day.

He was a great dog, and I will miss him so, so much.

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

A brand new invention? One year is a long time...



I've never been that good at titles, so borrowing from Vanilla Ice is just...expected at this point, right? Anyway, I'm not sure who I'm talking to, as I've more or less let this blog gather dust in the corner. But I'm here now, wanting to give it another spin, and start writing...things. Things that aren't necessarily related or news or about anything specific. To extend the hell out of a metaphor if I want, and to cut to the bone blunt if I want as well. I think I need to get my own space back.

Today I was thinking about my Chicagoistversary. One year ago today, as I was coming out of a friend's funeral, I got an email that my very first article for Chicagoist was posted. My first byline! It made a day full of sadness, uncomfortable conversation, and uncertainty so much brighter. I felt like it might be the start of something entirely new and very good for me.

I find it so funny, in reflection on this, that the title of the piece was "Come On, See Happy." It was a time I was trying to make sense of someone being so unhappy that they felt there was nothing else for them, which is something a lot of people have been talking about lately. It was also a time when I wasn't that happy. I was trying to heal and figure out my life after a sad series of events that left me vacant one significant, person shaped space in my heart, and I was mostly hiding instead of healing. Home every night, weeks of tornado shows, half-assed attempts to be with people when I wasn't feeling like putting things out there, really. I wasn't really happy. But I was trying. I took a kayaking trip like one I'd missed out on due to injury a few years back with new friends, and it was amazing. I was doing things I always wanted to do instead of just *saying* "I've always wanted to do something like that" and getting so much out of it.

I participated in GISHWHES, which had a huge impact on my confidence, my sense of adventure, and my willingness to let myself be rejected. I pretty much credit GISHWHES with me even being at Chicagoist, since it was that newly found confidence that led me to respond to the tweet asking for A&E writers instead of talking myself out of it with well thought out points about how I didn't have the right qualifications.

But here I am, a year later. I have interviewed a member of the Deftones, who I listened to obsessively in high school, met and interviewed the creators of the Thrilling Adventure Hour, which both me and my boyfriend adore and led to meeting quite a few other people, and interviewed one of my all time favorite comedians. I've explored Chicago's museums and gotten to see concerts I otherwise wouldn't have, and had the opportunity to treat my friends and boyfriend to these things from time to time.

It's quite a different place I'm in than the one that I was in a year ago. The afore mentioned boyfriend makes the word seem inadequate to describe the relationship. It's a partnership unlike anything I've experienced, and he's got the most amazing heart. I honestly think I could not love anyone more than I love him, and for the first time, I feel like I have that, too. It's not without its problems, but it is standing the test of time, and I feel like I'm growing and learning, and finding that I only want to keep doing those things, and keep getting closer.

I'm busier than I have been in a long time. And while the things I'm doing are AWESOME, there are times I wish I didn't have such a packed schedule. Oftentimes I'm trying to squeeze an article in after the day job and before sleep, or on lunch, and rushing to cover a story after work and start the cycle again. In regards to the day job, I'm a forever contractor in a department that's not going to expand ever again. I would love to keep working there, but for what I make, and now planning for what I want the future to be like, it may not be practical to stay, and the reality is there may not be anything I can do but start over.

Sometimes I feel like I've been a bit of a bad friend, not keeping in touch as much as I want to, and not having the energy to do the things I used to. Between stories and relationships, my calendar is more full than it ever has been, so a night like tonight that's my second one in a row at home feels decadent, necessary and comes with a side of guilt.

There's ups and downs. Lately, the stress of finances, figuring out what my next step on the day-job level will be, family and friend obligations and some growing pains in the relationship have made me feel a little bit more down than usual. A little more frenzied.

It was a good time, then, to look back a year. It reminds me to see happy. It reminds me of the great things I've seen and done since then. It reminds me of a time when all I did was take care of myself, even to my own detriment, and helps me try and find a better balance now.  So I think I'll start writing here more regularly, and if anyone is reading this, poke me if I don't, eh? And I think I'll make sure my nails are a new shade a week instead of shards of orange glitter that are a month old, because that makes me feel pampered and pretty and like I care about how I look.  I think I'll start yoga again, because it made my body feel better, more toned, and it was relaxing. And it might seem too ambitious, and like too much change at once, but one year later, I know I'm capable. Time to let the rubber meet the road.