Tried to listen to the river but you couldn't shut your mouth.

From my favorite astrologer, Rob Brezsny:

AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): You've said enough for the time being. You have expressed the hell out of yourself and have been thorough in providing your vision of how the collaborative efforts should unfold. But now I think you should cultivate the power of silence. Keep your evolving thoughts to yourself for a while so that they can ripen in your imagination, and allow the ideas you have already put out there to fully work their way into the imaginations of others. In early May, it will be time to jump back in with a new dose of your insight and inspiration. By then, people should be begging you for more.

I hope my faithful readers can wait. I am very serious about listening to the universe right now.

Chloe's Odyssey: OMG

now THIS is happening:

(text messaging from school today)

chloe: Omg!! Mom! I just chipped my pedicure again but this time it took off like half my nail!! And a sticker won't fix it!!!!!!

me: Half your nail?!

chloe: Like the top!!! I'll send u a pic!

me: Ouch. It looks painful.

chloe: Yeah but look at my pedicure!!!!!! I'm sooooo sad!!!!!!

me: Well, when it grows out we'll get er fixed. You gotta take it easy on those toes, little one.

chloe: Mom!!! I want it fixed sooner than that because it drives me crazy & it's ugly!!!!

me: Well I can't make your toenail grow back! Just take it easy on the damn thing!

chloe: Thanks, Mom. Thanks ALOT.

she's 12. welcome to my life ...

We gotta stay positive.

Not going was never an option. There was a long list of options, missing The Hold Steady just wasn't on it. Ever. Not even on the back up, back up, back up, BACK UP list.

The outlook seemed to dampen with every passing moment. Frantic calls and texts banking on favors. Fleeting thoughts of worst-case scenarios or the "come to". It was unquestionably the hottest ticket in town. But there was always a buried feeling of peace in my gut; I just knew I was going to the show. So the anti-climactic (albeit late) resolution that we had tickets was hardly a surprise. It's not what you know, it's who you know.

And... The Hold Steady didn't disappoint. I stood in the middle of the audience for the entire show in awe. I didn't drink too much and I didn't think too much. I didn't even really get annoyed with the jackasses on the front row. I just clicked my pictures and left. I think Craig Finn mesmerized everyone individually that night. Sigh... I could write a glowing review but it's been done. Go here for my vantage point. What he said.


Today, what I am missing most isn't the music or Craig Finn or even lucky breaks. I miss knowing. I miss the feeling of just knowing that not giving up was the right thing to do. The peaceful feeling of "it was meant to be..." Because these days, not even a week after such hefty conviction, I doubt every morsel of my existence. I doubt the flavor of toothpaste I use. And not in a self-motivational (you can do it!) way. This is a sick-to-my-stomach-holy-shit-I'm-screwed way. It's very eerie. It's the feeling of letting go.

Confession and side story: Once I decide I want something, I don't give up. I am not a "let me sleep on it" kind of gal. I fixate. Which is why I am also insane. Which is why I'll stay up all night finishing a job, drive hours on end in circles, believe everything people say, and obsess about wrongs I've made. Way back in the day, I stumbled across a somewhat popular band and thought it was destiny that I know this band. D e s t i n y. This goes way beyond a healthy admiration for something. And so it was written.

Once I discovered the band, I did things I never thought I would do. I amazed myself by my resourcefulness. I called the band to let them know they were the new object of my desire (they were from L.A.). I met them (at the Sundance Film Festival for starters). I almost killed them (I trapped two of them in the backseat of my Jetta and almost hit a telephone pole in the name of midnight nachos). I slept with them (in the same hotel room). I followed them (the night was young and so was I). Anyway, the point is... I remember one night I was driving to Park City at an insane hour, by myself, to do something unreasonably unrealistic in connection with said band and I was talking on the phone with my friend, Big G. I remember this part of the conversation:

Big G: "So, wow, you sure you want to go up there alone?"

Me: "Oh yea. I know, I know, it's just not like me!"

Big G: "Carly... it's SO like you."

Seems like the same stupid shit happens. Years before Big G said it, I think my dad said it. I am sure my sister has thought it a million times. And I still continue to indulge in learning stuff the hard way. You'd think one would learn. Back to letting go. I think it's why I've never gone back to an ex, I've never made amends with certain friends, and I wear people out. I am fiercely engaged until I let go. And then I let go. Really let go. Done. Because I know. I might have learned the hard way, but I really know. It's like picking a scab or pulling the plug out of a dam. Damn dam. Sometimes the outcome haunts me for years, sometimes days, sometimes seconds. But knowing is always better than not knowing. Not giving up is better than giving up. Believing is better than not believing.

Don't touch the stove, it's hot. I know.

Don't drink the whiskey. I know.

You can't afford that. I know.

You're not missing out on anything. I know.

Today, I don't know and it's driving me crazy. I don't know if I should stop or go. I am indecisive and retrospective. I know I'll look back and realize I am in Crazytown. I know these fast days and blurry decisions will come to an end. It may not be super awesome but at least I'll know. And I'm not giving up until I do.

a dream within a dream

poe & mason jennings feel like a good combo for a rainy day like today.

one of my favorites...
dedicated to my friend, the mountain man.

A Dream Within A Dream

by Edgar Allan Poe

Take this kiss upon the brow!

And, in parting from you now,

Thus much let me avow--

You are not wrong, who deem

That my days have been a dream;

Yet if hope has flown away

In a night, or in a day,

In a vision, or in none,

Is it therefore the less gone?

All that we see or seem

Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand--

How few! yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep--while I weep!

O God! can I not grasp

Them with a tighter clasp?

O God! can I not save

One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?

p.s. i accept your apology if you'll accept mine. please don't leave me in the cold car. you'll come after, right? 

if i had one wish...

if i had one wish i would wish for my boyfriend to come home, build a fire, play his guitar for me, and maybe sing... and then the cold rain would be warm and the lonely silence would be welcome. and the whiskey would taste so much better.

nothing profound. just a wish for right now.

The Boy

A long time ago, in what seems to have been another lifetime, I lived in Logan and was pregnant. My brother lived with me and, like every good brother should, he got pregnant with me. Meaning, we ate Big Macs and watched Days of Our Lives every day. For every pound I put on, he put on one... or two. I wouldn't say it was a super depressing time but I wouldn't say it was the best time of our lives. But I will say that I don't know what I would have done without him. We watched Marlena being possessed by the devil and Father John finally doing an exorcism on her. Oh, I remember it all. I cherish that time with Brady. Truly.

Today is his birthday. (Technically since it's the early hours of the morning, it was yesterday, April 7.) I was lucky enough to be in Salt Lake today so I got to see him and give him a big birthday hug. If you know this kid, you know what a truly amazing person he is.

He's had his share of shit in this life. And yet he is still one of the most resilient people I know. He's charismatic; people are drawn to him. He taught himself how to play the guitar and then he started a band. Then, when no one else would sing, he became the lead singer and wrote all the lyrics. Don't get me started on his brilliance. I went to almost every single show; sometimes I was the only one there. And each time I was blown away by him and the rest of the guys.

When we were younger I forced him and his friend, Dave, to make home videos with me. I'd have them dress up as cowboys (Buck Williams) or serial killers (The Babysitter I & II) or ladies' men (Fish 'n' Chips). If they didn't follow the script or take it seriously, I would get SO mad. I yelled at them and waited until they were serious and ready to perfect their lines. Damnit, he put up with a lot from me. And it didn't stop there. In fact, I don't think it has stopped.

Brady is one of the smartest people I know. Academically and humanistically. Which basically means that he has an extremely high IQ and he understands people, human nature, and how the world is and how it should be. We share the same thoughts about how poorly people are treated around the world and how devastating it is that we can't (or don't) do anything about it. His heart is so big sometimes it shuts down and he hides from us. But that's Brady. And we love him.

He's the only boy sandwiched between two sisters on each side. Bless his heart. If this wasn't punishment enough, he was basically left in charge of my mother when she and my father got divorced. He was in high school and he had to watch a lot of disturbing things develop including the deterioration of our childhood home. Yet he did it without being a victim and while keeping an eye on our two youngest sisters.

My favorite things to do with Brady are talk shrimp, hot box it in the car while listening to Johnny Cash, stay up all night talking about music, go through his vinyl records, listen to him argue with people, make fun of people with him, and clean out the storage shed. I am pretty sure that I have the most awesome brother ever born.

I don't think my brother knows how talented he is. If he believed in himself as much as all of his sisters do, he would probably be a world leader or a famous writer. I am not too concerned about his accomplishments though; all I care about is that he knows I love him more than almost anything in this crazy world. So Happy Birthday, Banger. I love you. Better days are ahead.

T R U T H

I am going to keep this short for the few people who read my blog. Emphasis on few. Which is more than okay because you few people happen to be fatefully exceptional people. 

Truth: This week has been hard for me. I mean HARD. I even got two cold sores so you know my stress level is maxed out. I have cried daily. I know, no one believes me anymore when I say I never cry, but at one point I had ice running through my veins. Ask my sisters. So actually, I can no longer claim to be a never-crying person because I do cry now. All the damn time.

Truth is a hard concept to define. There are a bazillion quotes about it, it is a cornerstone of most major religions or belief systems, and it has long been philosophized and studied. My interpretation and belief in it is so important that I have the word "Truth" tattooed on my wrist. No, not to remind me to tell the truth (I am kinda too honest already) but to remind me to find the truth in all things, live my truth, and accept the truth. Accepting the truth is probably the hardest one.

Some truths are hard for me to accept because I am an idealist by nature. I am a dreamer, I am impulsive, I don't think people should have to work 40 hours a week, I believe in love at first sight, sometimes I don't pay my bills, I don't follow rules, I live in the moment, I have faith that things will work out, and I WILL live in a grass hut one day and drink out of coconut shells. Anyway, this radical thinking makes things like death, car repossessions, lawsuits, annoying people, world disorder, violence, etc. very hard for me. (After I saw The Kite Runner, I forbade my sister from ever watching it and then fell into a 6-month depression. I am not exaggerating.)

I've gone on too long already. My point... I have to start balancing my idealism with reality. So that when reality does get a little rocky, my life doesn't shatter into a million pieces. How do I do that? I have no idea. It terrifies me.

One way, I guess, is having an irresistible friend who has "Truth Time" with me. And tonight he gave me a little bit of truth, made me cry, offered some advice in a totally non-lecturing way, and then agreed that most of the stuff I had talked about was boring. Which was the truth... it was a very uninteresting monologue at times. But I think he knew that I had to barf it up. And I think he knew that I was the saddest, loneliest girl in the world tonight. I wish I knew how to tell him how much it meant to me.

I will be the first to admit that I am not perfect. I am usually at fault when it comes to problems in my life (except for my sweet Sunny getting hit by a car). I am irresponsible. I trade what I ultimately want for what I want in the moment. Sometimes I don't always tell the entire truth. I show up hungover at work. I don't pay my bills. Ever. I stay up late and then wonder why I can't wake up in the morning. I push people away. I am mean to people when they don't deserve it. I fall in love with people who will never love me back. I can be resentful. I am selfish. I have so many good things in my life that I am a dick for complaining at all.

I've totally lost control of this entry. Maybe I have just discovered that the very word that is tattooed on me is the one that I am most oft trying to avoid.