I listened to several different CDs along the way. Mostly mixes, to keep things interesting. The first song that played as I hopped on I-90 from State St. in the big city? "Rolling," by Better Than Ezra:
...How'd you get so low?I was laughing out loud, singing along (likewise, loud), and smiling for miles after I heard that. What a mantra for the weekend: "Rolling"--too funny.
How'd you get so low?
(She said)
Me and you
Got a lot to do.
We go rolling
From Friday till Sunday noon.
Stop! Start a letter,
Rent-A-Saint in back
Want to hit the interstate in a Cadillac,
And we're rolling.
Could it be that hard
To never mind the rent
And then quit your job?
Flying, at what cost?
Shout outs to the ones we've lost.
How'd you get so low?
How'd you get so low?
Don't mind me. Me? I'm fine.
I just get a little lost sometimes.
But what I really meant to say,
I couldn't live without you another day.
How'd you get so low?
How'd you get so low?
(She said)
Me and you
Got a lot to do.
We go rolling
From Friday till Sunday noon.
Stop! Start a letter,
Rent-A-Saint in back
Want to hit the interstate in a Cadillac,
And we're rolling.
Are you just worried to see me?
Are you just worried to need me?...
The point of this trip, among other things, but the main thing is to really help my parents understand what's going on in my life right now, personally. I don't know if that's 'too much information,' but it's entirely germane to my state of mind right now. The last couple of weeks have been absolute Hell, and this has been at the crux of it. They won't exactly tell me what their problem is with the situation, but they're obviously very upset about it. Sad for me? Worried? Disappointed? Sad, simply for themselves? Is it something else entirely? I've tried to anticipate what they'd like to know and provide all the information that they would want, but they're clearly unhappy, so more needs to be said. But they aren't asking, so what do I do, just start blathering about it? I'm utterly lost in this realm. My family's usually not like this, so I feel like I'm trying to tighten screws with a hammer. Or pound nails with a screwdriver, maybe. Clearly some delicacy is required, but I'm not sure if I've got it in me.
So I was thinking perhaps overmuch for the last few days about how to approach all of this. And I had a few headaches, and a few long nights staring at the wall when I should've been asleep. No lightning-bolts, no startling conclusions. Some small realizations about life in general:
* I miss T.O. Tons. So much that talking to her sometimes hurts more than not talking to her. It's awkward to really need someone who really needs to not be needed sometimes. And if you know what that sentence meant, you're either T.O. or you're an introvert (or very, very close to one).
* It's past time that I begin doing things. And by things I mean, not just work, reading and beading. Seeing people. Going out. [Once I've replaced the f$%^ing phone], talking to, oh, say, people who will trust me with their phone numbers.... [No "disparagement," per se, intended....] Maybe seeing some of the myriad movies that I've missed. Taking a yoga class. Shooting autumn pictures. Starting my collection development (correspondence) course.
* I've become a dreadful correspondent. I owe email to half of the known world. I owe an alarming amount of email to the people to whom I am, allegedly, the closest. There is the excuse of not having 24 hr. Internet access, but it's not a fabulous reason for being a schmuck. I offer a blanket apology (because I really am sorry for it) and a vow to do better from now on.
* There's a hole in my life. It's something that I allowed, or even encouraged, to form. And it's up to me to fix it, which I will do. For now, though, it's like a bruise that still hurts too much to not touch, if you know what I mean. The wrong kind of ache.
* Even with all the turmoil, I'm happy. Generally, and with some specific caveats, I am happy.
Speaking of happy, I played 'car flirt' with a librarian-looking guy in a HUGE pickup near Mad-town. It was one of those half-rubberized deals, kind of like the Honda Pilot but it was an American make. Anyway, we did the 'drive next to each other for about 5 miles' thing. (Nothing high-speed, JCL.) The best part of it? His license plate: IRN RINO. Yeah, Melvil Dewey himself thought he was an Iron Rhino. Titter, titter.
And speaking of license plates.... As you all know, I have a 3-letter name. It begins with the letter A. I would imagine that you might believe that it's fairly common to encounter it (and therefore likewise my initials, both in their original and their current formulations) on license plates. I have always appreciated the sight of such plates as a good-luck symbol for myself. A wave from the hands of the gods, as it were, as of to say, "We're paying attention, and wanted you to know it." I saw the same van twice today, with a plate reading 791AMY. Once at the beginning of my trip, and once very near the end. I think that's pretty cool.
Ever hear the song "Polyester Bride," by Liz Phair? Here's how it goes:
I was talking not two days agoAnd that song--holy shit!--made me realize something. I'm damned lucky to have a friend like J.W. 'Cause for one thing, he's so not the kind of person to say, "You're lucky to even know me." But even more, he's been exactly the kind of friend to me that Henry is to Liz in this song. There. Wise. Funny.
To a certain bartender I'm lucky to know
I asked Henry my bartending friend
If I should go on dating unfamous men
And Henry said
You're lucky to even know me
You're lucky to be alive
You're lucky to be drinking here for free
Cause I'm a sucker for your lucky pretty eyes
And then he said
Do ya wanna be a polyester bride?
Do ya wanna hang your head and die?
Do ya wanna find alligator cowboy boots they just put on sale?
Do ya wanna flap your wings and fly
Away from here?
I was sitting not two days ago
Feeling lonely cause I'm just feeling low
And I asked Henry my bartending friend
Why is it that there are those kind of men
And Henry said
You're lucky to even know me
You're lucky to be alive
You're lucky to be drinking here for free
Cause I'm a sucker for your lucky pretty eyes
And then he said
Do ya wanna be a polyester bride?
Do ya wanna hang your head and die?
Do ya wanna find alligator cowboy boots they just put on sale?
Do ya wanna flap your wings and fly
Away from here?
Cause you've got time
He keeps telling me
you've got time
But I don't believe him
You've got time
Keep on pushing harder
I keep on pushing farther away
He keeps telling me maybe
He says maybe
Do ya wanna be a polyester bride?
Do ya wanna hang your head and die?
Do ya wanna find alligator cowboy boots they just put on sale?
Do ya wanna flap your wings and fly
Away from here?
Do ya wanna be a polyester bride?
[repeat]
How do you know when you meet someone that you're going to be friends? That you're going to become connected to them? That you'll take what you have with them and then make it different, because what they have combines with what you have to make something new--like chocolate covered pretzels? (Yeah, that's a weird analogy, but I love 'em and I'm a little hungry. So sue me.)
I had grand intentions of writing about the entire day, but it's somehow gotten late and I'm surprisingly tired. The brief version: easy drive, rainy day here. No progress with the 'rents, but no back-sliding, either. Saw college BFF, which was sad and made me feel worse (not because of anything she did, but because she's...emotional). Saw A. and felt 100 times better. Meeting E. tomorrow. That should be crazy. Haven't seen him in an age, and to do so now seems strange but also oddly fitting.
Falling asleep where I sit. More tomorrow, if all goes well enough.
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