Sunday, September 29, 2013

Losing Grip

Photograph of mother and child tamarin by Hans Hillewaert
Suh-suh-suh-SUHNDAY!!!

Havin' some beers and mentally preparing for the week ahead. This is the week that I lose grip of one of the most solid things that I've had throughout my adult life. Every time I'm alone I cry. It's selfish of me to be so needy. I know this. I just can't help it. My mom said to me on the phone today,

"Now you know how I felt."

I love her, and I don't want to diminish what she went through, but I don't think it's the same. We were not close during my teen years. This was my doing. I was an asshole. It was the 80's. "No one understood me!" I didn't hang out with my parents. We did not share interests.

My oldest and I have a unique bond. There are so many intricacies that are tied up in our relationship. I don't think there is anyone that could say,

"I know how you feel."

"The big day" is Tuesday. I drop him off at college. At Antioch. It's an all-day affair, the drop-off day. I think there might even be a segment for "grieving parents" or some such thing. I am bringing a camera. I want to take pictures of other parents grieving. It needs to be more real. More raw. I want more evidence. Then I want to file it. I want to move on. And I want to grow accustomed to letting go.

Moving on.

I've been thinking about art in relation to my children. Neither of them think that they have intrinsic talent. I disagree. Everything that they do is art. They have so much talent that it is some day going to burst their skins. They'll need to reconcile what they do casually as true art. They live and breathe it. Both of them. In very different, but very apparent ways. In ways that I for sure did not exhibit at such a young age. So much potential. I pray that there is a magical funnel for them. A magical wizard who will help them along their paths.

But seriously, moving on.

I am trying to think of this kinda/sorta death as an opportunity. I used to love making music when I was younger. I wasn't much older than my oldest child when I learned how to play. My tiny amp and guitar have been dusted off and are propped up next to my bed. I don't plan anything other than to touch them. To maybe write a song.

I'd very much like it if my first song could be to my children. A song of hope, with a dark reality that their hopes and dreams are waiting on the other side of a thick fog... Or maybe Mordor. But that they have access to the one ring that will make it all o.k.

This quickly turned pretty nerdy.

"This was a pretty heavy blog post, Sharon. You owe us a little levity."

O.k., here's a funny story...

You know how I am all ate up about Arcade Fire? It's true. They are one of my favorite bands. I posted the Reflektor video on Facebook because I wanted people to know that I liked that video because of reasons I thought were very cool - namely the paper mache heads and it being directed by Anton Corbijn, the dude who made the Control movie. That's what people do on Facebook. They try to make people know "who they are" by telling them what they ate, where they spent time, or what video they watched. I really liked the video. My SISTER totally Facebook dissed it. Like within minutes of the posting. And that SHOULD be fine. She's entitled to her opinion. Except that she ALSO dissed Arcade Fire in ANOTHER post of ANOTHER video that I posted about a year ago. WEIRD. Like the woman REALLY hates Arcade Fire. I sort of don't understand. They are a pretty easy band to like. What does my sister have against Arcade Fire? Does she hate Canada? Does she hate bands that have a ton of people in them? Does she just have questionable taste? We used to like a lot of the same bands. What happened?

Bottom line. The world is pretty fucked up. Then we go to college. We post of Facebook. We work. Then we die.
 
But it’s just a Reflektor.
Will I see you on the other side?

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Sweet Dreams


Yay, Fall! I mean like hooray, accessories, but HOLY SHIT I am QUAKING with coldness. Like the kind of shivering that accompanies finding a dead body and maybe recognizing said body. Like the body is that of a mom that you used to see at home school functions who used to talk about her husband's "anger issues". She used to talk about him throwing things around the house, "A dish thrower." she used to say. Often accompanied by nervous laughter.

I will power through this though. Even with the fingers a-jitterin' on the keyboard. Hmmm... I think it's time for some hot toddies? Cold beers are certainly not helping.


O.k., so I have been having CRAZY dreams. And I sleep like the dead. And I never remember dreams. But I have had TWO fucked-up dreams that I can't be rid of. Have I mentioned that I never remember dreams? Seriously, I never remember dreams.


The first features a kid from my high school in his grown-up, Facebook-friends version who, in my dream, died of AIDS. Do I ever think about this person? I do not. Do I have any idea why he would show up in a dream? I do not. 


I fully expected to wake up and see that on Facebook so-and-so died. That he fought the good fight and was brave right up to the end. That he kept his sickness secret because he didn't want false sympathy while he went about reconnecting with his old friends.


But I went on Facebook to see that he commented today on a mutual friend's post about the recent Bengal's game. For sure not dead. And I would have to guess by his zealous nature, not sick.


SOOOOO... I went on-line to interpret this bit of nonsense.


To dream that someone else has AIDS signifies your need to be more compassionate and sympathetic to others. 


Oh, I'm sure that's it. Because working every weekday with adults with disabilities isn't enough. WHO ARE YOU??? Who is this person I need to be more compassionate towards??? Just tell me. Tell me.

"Sharon, it's just an on-line dream interpretation resource. It may mean nothing."

"Oh, fuck you, voice in my head. Read on..."

And then I dreamed ALL NIGHT LONG LIKE I COULDN'T WAKE UP TO THINK OF HOT VAMPIRES OR CHILDREN'S BOOKS OR PURSES, I just dreamed all night long that I had a baby. Oh dear, sweet-baby-Jesus. And not just a regular baby. It was like a random, very thin baby that just showed up off and on and I was holding it. And I didn't have any supplies for it. Like I was at the airport (or maybe the hospital?) and I really needed to get somewhere, but I didn't have a car seat. I didn't even have a diaper. The baby was very limp. I thought it was dead, but it was actually just very chill. At some point I tried to breast feed it because I felt guilty about having nothing else for it. It seemed pretty happy though. It didn't seem upset that I'd forgotten about it.

Fuuuuuuhhhhhhhk!

I immediately woke up feeling like an AWFUL parent. I was absolutely sure that this meant that I was a failure. My children were starving for some something, and I was too inattentive to notice. But they were o.k. with everything. Because they were fucking used to it. That's what I thought this dream meant. 

Well, according to the dream people, this is the verdict..

If you dream that you forgot you had a baby, then it suggests that you are trying hide your own vulnerabilities; you do not want to let others know of your weaknesses. Alternatively, forgetting about a baby represents an aspect of yourself that you have abandoned or put aside due to life's changing circumstances. To dream about a starving baby represents your dependence on others. You are experiencing some deficiency in your life that needs immediate attention and gratification.   

She-yewwwww! I'm not a fucked-up parent! I'm just like YOU! As long as you're a slightly co-dependent, overworked, creative type. Yeah, just like you. 

Samesies! 

So maybe I'll be thinking about YOU tonight, my shitty friend. 

Except that if I DO, it means that my teeth are about to fall out. I'm pretty sure that's it. OR that we both have cancer. 


Friday, September 20, 2013

Reflektor - Can't Wait!!!

Graffiti featuring the name of the new album
The release is a little over a month away...


This video (a teaser) is absolutely stunning. Anton Corbijn, paper mache heads, a coffin, some dolls. Arcade Fire. What more could a girl want?

Friday, September 13, 2013

Beers, Squirrels, etc.


Here's a thing that happens. I drink a few beers then think about something that touches me emotionally, then I share that in a blog post. Usually it's about something that only applies to a small subset of persons that include me, maybe a guy who manages a comic book store, and that guy who always comes by himself to Ladies 80's.

Then I usually decide to delete the post the next morning (or to heavily edit at least).

But I've only had a COUPLE of beers, and I've been thinking about this book off and on all day (my co-worker Allison lent it to me). I've always been a David Sedaris fan, but this book in particular has been especially entertaining. It's written like a dark, twisted, miserable version of Aesop's Fables with often questionable admonitions. So far my favorite is the story about the two rats. I won't give anything away, but it doesn't end well. Most of the stories don't. And I think that is what I love the most. Real stories about real life. Told from the point of view of animals. Sort of.

Pick it up. I promise it is worth it. Mom, I think you'd like it.

Oh, and sort of related... Because this book made us think of the greater Sedaris family, Dave and I looked up old clips of Amy Sedaris on YouTube. THIS one was our favorite by far.

Monday, September 2, 2013

Happy Labor Day!

original sketch by Charles Alston
Happy Labor Day! I hope you did SOMEthing relaxing and non-laborious. Ironically, I chose to benefit from the labor of others and used my 20% off everything coupon from Michael's to get items for a super-exciting project that I'm working on that I'll tell you about some other time. It's one of the 100 things that keep me grinding my teeth at night, but this one is totally worth it!

Welp, I put a motherforking video on the YouTube. OMG, it was a treacherous journey. Think of this scenario: You wake up groggy and there's no electricity in your house and you have to figure out how to make coffee. And you've never operated a coffee maker. And you're a baby. That's what it felt like. BUT I learned so much in the process. I feel like Louis learned a lot too. I want to keep working at it. I figure if teenagers have this shit down, I should be able to cobble something together. The next one will be better. And so on...

"The sound/video quality was total shit, Sharon."

"I know. I'll take that into consideration for the next time. I have pretty archaic equipment though. I have to make do with what I have."

"Louis wasn't even looking at the camera for MOST of the video."

"I am aware of that. We will try harder next time. This was his first time performing in front of a camera."

"Can you make it funnier? What's the point of doing a puppet show if it's not going to be funny?"

"I want it to be funny as well. Louis is very contemplative though. We'll see what he comes up with for the next time."

Subject change...

Hey, pre-holiday shoppers, my friend Judah's partner recently suffered a stroke, and he's putting together an Etsy shop called Charlie's Spot to help with hospital bills and whatnot. If you are someone who needs gifts, please check out the goods (but check now AND later as he's gonna be putting stuff in there all week). It's a super big win/win!!!


Now, to get back to cramming as much relaxation into the next hour or so before I check out before I check in.