Category: To Occupy my Time

Rush Ticket! The Last Five Years

I bought my first rush ticket to see this two-person musical about the beginning, middle and end of a relationship.  The musical begins from the woman’s perspective as the relationship is ending, and from the man’s as the relationship is beginning.  They cross in the middle and by the end of the play, the woman is at the beginning of the relationship and the man at the end.
My rush ticket cost $20.00 and I highly recommend stopping by Portland Center Stage and asking how the process works, if you aren’t familiar.  They were very nice.
Also, this musical will be a movie soon.  It comes out later this year.

Can we not do something about this?

This is from an interview with Charles Cross about Kurt Cobain.
I want our country to be better at catching all the lost people who get to a place where the only way they can function in the world is by using drugs.  I want us to help people dealing with the kind of problems Kurt Cobain had.  We’re a rich country.  There’s no way we should be letting people slip through the cracks like that.

Sorting the letters.

Along with the journals, the letters from the first two years of college were recovered.  They are all a jumble and I’m sorting them.  I have another tub of letters which I went though a few years ago, so I hope to get everything in neat piles of people.  It’s been fun to see what I can find.  They are especially nostalgic because after my first two years of college I got an email account. Though the letters still arrived, it wasn’t with the same frequency.  All of that early electronic communication has been lost and I mourn it.  That makes these letters all the more wonderful to read now.

KRPS schedule in 1994

Just in case you need to know what I was listening to my first two years of college.  Friend Sue and I especially enjoyed the Bob and Bill show.  That’s the first time I can remember a radio show giving an email address to write to, along with the regular postal service address.  We also loved the Radio Reader, though Friend Sue got to listen to him more than I did as she was always doing something in the Art building, whereas my hours were spent in the library.

Requiem: dresses.

I think I found this dress at Savers, but I can’t be sure. It’s straight polyester of the late 60s/early 70s variety that is quite thick and sweaty and never breaks down.  The dress is SHORT.  I wore it ironically with bright green fishnet stockings and knee-high boots for “green and gold” spirit day my senior year of high school. I also had my longest false eyelashes on.  You can’t get a sense of scale when it’s laid out on the table like this, but looking at it today, I marveled that I had ever been that small.  It was one of the first dresses I wore when I was starting to get an idea of what powers my body had, if I dressed a certain way.

The label.
This dress was inherited from an Aunt (I can’t remember if it was Pat or Carol.  The length makes me think Aunt Carol had it first because she had the legs, but the lace around the collar makes me think it was Aunt Pat’s.)  It spent many years as a “dress up” dress in the dress up box.  I can remember wearing it when it came to my toes.  But I grew up and it was another high school discovery.  Also quite short.  I love the purple and orange pattern. It’s pretty worn out, which is too bad.

Another brown polyester dress probably bought at the same time that yellow one was.  I don’t ever remember wearing this, but I have a clear memory of H. wearing it, again ironically, for a spirit week dress up day.
Aside from the indestructible nature that comes with polyester, this has a great back zipper and, I discovered as I was searching around for a label, was homemade.
This came from the Salvation Army Thrift store and was my favorite dress for many years as a child.  I had a thing for old fashioned dresses so this was an incredible find.  I wore it for Halloween one year, and then any time I could after that.  Always for dress up.  I even fashioned hoop skirts from the circled bit of plastic that came with the lawn dart set.  This is homemade too, and still gorgeous.  If it was anywhere near fitting, I would have kept it, but someone else will get to be thrilled to find it.

Exercise goal for April.

I get a goodly amount of exercise, but I would like to do better.  My goal for April will be to average 60 minutes of exercise over six days.  I’ve just tallied up my exercise for the 12 weeks since January 6, and I averaged 45 minutes per day.  So I have a good foundation built.  Exercise can be anything but will most likely be the following things I do:  walking, jog/walk, Pilates, exercise class.  The only thing I’m not counting is restorative yoga, which I love, and is very good for me, but I cannot in good conscious call exercise.  I don’t have to complete 60 minutes all at once, can break the sessions and scatter them through the day.

I’ll check in at the end of every week.

Week of March 31
I did 370 minutes of exercise over seven days, but since I’ve decided to divide 370 by six and not seven, I made my goal.

Week of April 7
380 minutes over six days.  Goal achieved!  Also, I walked home from work for the first time.  It took 85 minutes.  Which is not really that long, in the grand scheme of things.  I might think about doing this more often.

Week of April 14
365 over six days.  I took Easter off.

Week of April 21
Despite the fact I did no exercise on three days, I still clocked 360 minutes this week.  This makes me think that 360/week is a reasonable number to shoot for on a regular basis.

Week of April 28
Although this week I only did 165 minutes over four days.  I did run a 5k on Saturday though, which meant I skipped my walk to the gym and the gym which meant 80 minutes of usually automatic exercise I did not obtain. Not such a great finish to the experiment, but still successful enough that I will continue to strive for 360 minutes of exercise per week.

Picture from long time ago.

This is E.F. and myself sitting in downtown Amherst in November of 1997.  I had traveled back to Amherst for Thanksgiving, or perhaps a fall visit.  The two of us had been roommates the previous summer.  Excellent mid-90s details include the red point-and-shoot camera held by EF, her short hair the fact that she’s smoking.  I am not smoking in this photo, but I’m guessing I have either just finished a cigarette or am about to have one.  I’m wearing my dad’s army pants, left over from the national guard, a spanking new pair of Doc Martens, my green sweater, which once upon a time belonged to Sara’s Great Aunt Hazel.  I’m also wearing the coat that kept me warm through many a freezing cold New England Winter.  On my hand is a ring that I gave myself, so as to be engaged to me and not any guys.  The backpack carries my things for the weekend.  I will take the Peter Pan bus back to Boston to work my first post-college job as a receptionist.  It is a job that is boring and lonely and I travel an hour each way to get to there.  I am lonely, and this weekend has been a very good one.

World Book Night

Have you heard about World Book Night?  Me neither. It’s a night where publishers publish books (list is here) so people can walk around and give them away.  How fun is that?  Powell’s had a kickoff event where Cheryl Strayed, Matthew Dickman, Amanda Coplin, Paul Collins, and Chelsea Cain all talked about a book that had influenced them.
Here’s Cheryl Strayed introducing the night. 
Matthew Dickman told us of his favorite book.  In the manner of all of the speakers, he managed to call out several before he got to the one he was really talking about.  He mentioned Island of the Blue Dolphins, (and I knew right then we were the same age, because that was a big one for me too) then talked about the poems they read in school, which were dense and heady and hard to comprehend.  So it was a watershed moment when he found All My Pretty Ones by Anne Sexton and he could read and understand the poems.  That lead him to Charles Burkowski and then his teacher gave him a copy of Allen Ginsberg’s Howl.  Along with the book came a postcard with Allan Ginsberg standing on a corner in New York with all his poet friends, and Dickman said that where he grew up, guys standing on the corner was a bad thing, and bad things came from guys standing on the corner.  To see a bunch of poets hanging about in such a way and creating art instead of trouble, was something to remember.  And so he read us an excerpt from Howl.
Chelsea Cain bought up her copy of Synonyms and Antonyms. Her mother had given it to her and inscribed a note in the flyleaf.  So we know that it was bought after a viewing of My Friend Flicka.  Cain pointed out that her mother made a habit of inscribing books, which means that now she can never get rid of said books.  Also that this was the first tool she was given as a writer and she used to page through it.  Now she uses a website to find her synonyms, which is a different thing than flipping through a book.  She then read to us from The Mystery of the Glowing Eye, one of the many Nancy Drew Books she read over and over again from first to fifth grade.
Paul Collins brought his copy of Three Men in a Boat, by Jerome K. Jerome.  Despite sharing a last name, too much time has passed between this event and this write-up of the event to remember why he chose that book.
Amanda brought Mouchette by George Bernanos.  She especially liked the version of the New York Review of Books Classics.
Cheryl Strayd brought her copy of Black Beauty that her mother read to her when she was three. (!)  Strayd said that she hasn’t read this book to her children yet, even though they are something like eight and ten years old.  The horrible things that happen to the horse are too much.  However, the book was incredibly influential in beginning the Society to Prevent Cruelty to Animals and the writing is beautiful.  Plus, her mother was a horsewoman and always had a horse.
This was an excellent presentation and introduction to World Book Night.  Thanks Powell’s.

The first two years of college journals.

For a few weeks, I thought they were gone forever, but they were tucked away in my Aunt’s basement, behind sacks of romance novels.  They were great to read.

And I think the cigarette manufacturers wasted their advertising dollars on me.  Apparently, they just needed to get the boys I liked to smoke.

From 22 January, 1995. Sunday.
I smoked my last cigarette for the weekend.  I can still taste the tar and nicotine on the back of my throat and on my teeth.  It tastes like the kisses of K.–or so long ago the kisses of T.  I became addicted to smoking this summer when I sat in truck stops and Shari’s late at night with TM and K and breathed in the smell of the pipe, or sat on the front porch of the house sittin’ house and smelled the smoke from the Lucky Strikes.  I guess now I ‘m the only one around to smoke, so I do and remember the kisses.