The one about the butterfly. [Enclosed: An unrelated letter.]

After becoming unhealthily enamored with the book, House of Leaves this week, I put the book away in a new hiding spot in my house. I'll come back to it when I'm ready to devote more time to reading it. "Devote", isn't the right word to use though. "Brave", would be better suited to the previous sentence.

I put the book away until I'm brave enough to tackle the task of reading it from start to finish.

Out of sight, out of mind, pt. II.
(To be continued...)

This morning while Adam and I were outside in the front yard, waiting for his school bus to come, he spotted something on the ground and began jumping up and down, pointing at it. I looked down and quickly recognized it as the butterfly we saw last night. Last night it was fluttering it's wings; resting on the vines that grow along our fence line. It was alive yesterday, but this morning when we found it, it was now laying in the grass, stiff. It looked like a small, quarter-machine, novelty toy someone dropped and lost on the ground.

"What's that?! What's that?!" Adam asked me while he continued to jump up and down, almost landing on top of the dead butterfly.
I put my arm out in front of him to protect the last little bit of dignity the butterfly had, "Babe, babe! Don't step on it! It's dead..."
Adam stopped for a minute and looked at me puzzled. He matched my quietness and stopped jumping. Then he leaned down to get a closer look at the butterfly and began studying it. His inspection seemed harmless until he picked up a stick from the ground and started poking at the dead butterfly's body.
"EWWWWW! Gross!" he shouted.
I stopped him from assaulting the butterfly any further; "You're EWWW! Gross!", I said to him, laughing at his reaction. Luckily for the butterfly, Adam's school bus pulled up and saved the butterfly from mutilation.

After I got him on the bus I walked back to the dead butterfly and leaned down to study it for myself. It appeared to be in perfect health, so I couldn't imagine why it just died. There had to be a reason, right? Whatever the reason was, it was unseen to me.

There are lots of things we don't see that affect life and death on earth, I suppose.

I picked up the butterfly and moved it closer to the fence line so no one would step on it. Then I trekked my way up the stairs, back inside the house. I closed the door behind me and locked it. Then I walked over to the kitchen table and sat down. From the kitchen window, I looked down into the yard and started to think about having to explain life and death to Adam one day. He's getting older (speaking of which, his birthday is coming up on October 7th), questioning anything and everything he sees these days.

How would I explain it? What would I say about it? And how would it affect his perceptions?

I made a mental note of the butterfly's death. I thought re-telling the experience would help when I had to explain to Adam that life and death were a little more than just, "EWWW! Gross!"

with a long sigh let the hissing in

stones deformed by gentle kissing

all the closed eyes start to glisten

but it feels like someone's missing
-- Someone's Missing / MGMT

Since I was already at the kitchen table, I decided to have a bowl of Lucky Charms to start the day. While I was eating, I saw the mailman from the kitchen window. He was putting mail in our box and I and remembered that when my mom called earlier in the week, she said she mailed us something. She made a big deal about it, making it sound like something epic. I finished the cereal and walked outside to see if her mail made it yet.

I opened the box and found a letter from my mom. Usually I rip open mail that's addressed to me, immediately. I didn't with her letter though. I wasn't sure what would be inside of it. With my mother, there's no telling. I thought maybe it was a letter that would offer advice or guide me some during our transition into our new lives, apart. What could she possibly have to say, in a handwritten letter, no less?

When she called days before, I shared with her my anxieties in starting over. I confessed to her how much I loved being with Adam again full-time; how he seemed to be enjoying school and life at home with me. I told her that we loved her and missed her tremendously, despite the fact that she and I fought most of the time.

(Yesterday night...)
LIZ: I can't believe mom called just to check on us the other day. That's weird. She never does that.
PATRICK: (Laughing) She didn't call to check on us. She doesn't care about us. (Laughs again) She thinks we're abusing and neglecting your son, depriving him of having Mc Donald's every day.

Once I got up the stairs and back inside the house, I tore open the envelope.

Book-It for adults.

"There are crazy twists and turns and things that you never see coming. And you really have to debrief at the end and put it back together which, I always feel is a mark of well written literature and leads to endless re-readability."

-- prophetandmistress / House of Leaves Discussion Thread

A copy of the book House of Leaves, written by POE's brother, Mark Z. Danielewski, has been in my possession for several months now. I've tried to read it like a regular book from start to finish, and have failed successfully at every attempt. [Which, I attest to honestly, has only been once since the book found it's way into my home].

I came across the copy because of Ryan, the true owner of the book. He made a point to hunt down his lent out copy when he was telling me about it and I told him I never read it. He was stunned, and once he recovered the copy, he wasted no time in passing the book on to me, and insisted that I read it as soon as possible.

RYAN: (Hands LIZ the book.)
LIZ: (Opens the book directly to the middle, stares at the page, then turns it and fingers through the the pages of the book, out of order.) The format is kinda neat. (Shuts the book and begins studying the cover.) It's pretty big...
RYAN: If you want to be a good writer you have to read too.
LIZ: Why?
RYAN: Because you have to know about other authors and other styles of writing.
LIZ: If you say so...

I didn't understand why he was pushing me to read House of Leaves so badly. [That, and, On Writing: A Memoir of The Craft, by Stephen King.] I couldn't recall ever having issues with reading in my life. I was constantly reading as a child and snatched up free pizza certificates left and right in elementary school thanks to Pizza Hut's Book-It program. Why was he so adamant on convincing me to read?

I approached the book with a questionable attitude when he told me to read it. Mainly because I couldn't see any other reason to read it except for the sole sake of reading it.

Why on earth would I do something for the sole sake of doing it?
I do what I want. [That's very post-modern of me, I believe.]

I took the copy of House of Leaves from Ryan to appease him and to have the book in my home court. In my mind, I thought if I had the copy it would be up to me to decide ultimately what to do with it. I exercised the right to do as I pleased when Ryan left, and I immediately hid the book in my house, deep in the back of a cabinet, downstairs.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Months passed by and Ryan had forgotten about the book while it continued to stay locked away in it's temporary housing. I almost forgot about it too, until a few days ago. I was at home alone, listening to an internet radio station when I heard part of a POE song. Her lyrics from the song, Haunted, jolted my memory:

There's always a way,
here in November, in this
house of leaves,
we'll pray.

I'm a huge fan of her music and heard years ago that her album, Haunted, accompanied a book. I never knew it was House of Leaves, until I was reminded of the two from hearing the song snippet. I researched my assumption for official confirmation and learned that they were, in fact, very connected.

Haunted is my favorite POE album. The style of the music is eclectic, but the main reason I love the album is because I like the twisted and dark lyrical themes. The exhibition of the themes by way of overindulging in flashbacks from youth spoke honestly to me. Sounds creepy on it's own but thanks to the sweetly feminine sound of POE, her voice serves as a night light on the dark content. And with a night light on, the dark themes are less terrifying to approach as opposed to trying to find them like unknown noises heard in the middle of the night, in pitch darkness.

Now that I knew the two pieces of artwork were connected; the music and the book; I walked downstairs to the cabinet and pulled the book out from it's solitary confinement. The cover was slightly dusty so I wiped it off and stared at it. I became distracted with the encyclopedia size of the book just as I had the first time I saw it. It wasn't merely the physical size of the book that I was concerned with anymore. Upon confirmation of the connection between Haunted and House of Leaves, I learned that the content of the book was twisted and dark too.

Haunted complements the book, but it's not going to help me find my way through the tangled confusion of ideas printed on the book's pages. I could live happier having never learned that the two pieces of art went hand in hand. Because if I still didn't know, I wouldn't feel compelled to read the book. In fact, putting the two together has become the bane of my existence over the past couple of days. [Well, at least one of the multiple banes of my existence.]

Despite having an actual interest in reading the book, now I am afraid to read it.

What if I get lost in the Olympic sized book? What if it swallows me up whole and I'm never seen or heard from again? What if it turned me against writing?

Last and most importantly;
What if I read it and discover it was a complete waste of time?

But I'm already wasting my time on it.

Too bad there isn't a Book-It program for adults.


By the way
when the landlord came today
he measured everything.
I knew he'd get it wrong
but I just played along
because I was hoping
that he would fix it all.
-- 5 &1/2 Minute Hallway / POE

One Hundred Billion

"As processions fade, new hearts doubt."
-- Walking Through the Door / FUTURE ISLANDS


Starting over for the one hundred billionth time in your life is never easy. It becomes repetitive when you're constantly changing your plans. It's true what they say; The more things change, the more things stay the same. I just never thought I fell into that cliche, though here I am, starting over again. It's hard not to feel disgusted because I feel like I should already be past this phase in my life, at my age.

I would love to know what stability feels like, at least once before I die.

The presence of stability would be a true change in my life. There's no telling how I would react if it found it's way into my every day. Chances are, my first reaction would be to run in the other direction because stability is a stranger to me, [stranger danger].  But after I was introduced to it and became familiar with it, I'd do my best to keep it a constant in my life.

If I liked it that is, because who's to say I'd like stability once I got to know it?

One hundred billion possibilities abound when you're starting your life over for the one hundred billionth time. I'm hoping to discover only one of those possibilities though.

Past four years & now.

Into the distance
a ribbon of black
stretched to the point
of no turning back
a flight of fancy
on a wind swept field
standing alone
my sense reeled.
--Learning to Fly / PINK FLOYD



It's been exactly one week today since my mother moved to back to Oklahoma for good.

Last Monday when Adam and I said goodbye to her, it wasn't as lengthy and drawn out like I thought it would be. She was holding tears back, I could tell, as we pulled out of her driveway and waved goodbye. The moment I turned my head away from her and looked out at the road in front of me, I immediately felt different.

The first day without her was breezy, though the different feeling hung around. I tried to shrug it off but I couldn't. I tried to explain how I felt to Ryan, hoping it would make me feel better. He looked at me like I was crazy when I admitted to him that there was a part of me that missed my mother. I explained to him that I felt overwhelmed with the idea of knowing that I couldn't rely on my mother, daily anymore, like I had for... the past four years. [NOTE: It was at that exact moment when I realized how long she'd been with me, every single day.] Truthfully, I knew Ryan wouldn't relate to what I was feeling because I couldn't clearly define or understand it myself. So instead of trying to get answers and empathy from him, I turned my investigation inside out, directing my questions inward this time.

The answer I was searching for finally came to me four days after my mother moved out.

See, I never expected to live with or have my mother live with me until I was 27. It was a series of bad luck circumstances and tragic situations that bonded us together for.... the past four years. It started with my separation from AJ in 2006 and official divorce from him in 2007. Recession kept my mother and I economically bound together in 2008. March 2009 brought about the loss of my father, then losing a loved one to homicide months later in May. The failure of yet another toxic, romantic relationship left a post atom bomb fallout over my life at the end of August 2009. My mother was convinced I could not handle the stress and take care of Adam at the same time. She was right, I couldn't back then.

I regained some of my sanity in the winter of 2009 and decided to move to Texas with my brother, Patrick. Just before I moved, my grandfather, my mother's father, had a stroke and passed away on December 8, 2009. Coincidentally, my father would have been celebrating his 60th birthday on that day if he had lived.

My mother stayed at my side as we went through the past four years, together.

The emotional climax of all the events that took place happened a few moments after we received news about the homicide. I went outside and sat down on a curb in the parking lot of the hotel we were staying at and lit a cigarette. [We were on what was supposed to be a vacation when we were notified.] I remember watching other families coming in and out of the hotel's entrance and noticing two children in particular, skipping closely behind their parents. I wondered what on earth would compel them to want to skip in a world littered with ugliness. Then my observation was interrupted with a sound I had not heard since I was a little girl.

It was the sound of an ice cream truck melody.

I can remember having an instinctual need to get up and run after it, but I didn't. Instead, I put out my cigarette and lit another. I felt my eyes start to water when I took the first drag off of it. At that point I'd grown accustomed to crying, so I wasn‘t startled by the feeling of tears forming in my eyes. Tears and chain smoking were the norm in my world, not skipping or chasing after ice cream trucks. I stayed cemented to the concrete curb as the ice cream truck drove away and it‘s music faded.

The random resurfacing of one of my favorite childhood memories at that moment in my life, I took as a symbol of the end of anything sweet and innocent ever entering or passing through my world, again.

I had forgotten most of that ice cream truck memory until this past Saturday, around 6pm. I was standing outside on the balcony of my house with Ryan when our conversation was interrupted with a familiar tune.

I looked at his face, slightly confused as to the sound’s source, “Do you hear that?” I asked him.
Our conversation died as we stood in silence, trying to define the sound. He replied, “Yeah…it sounds like…”
“It sounds like ’Happy Birthday’,” I quickly interjected. 
He agreed, “It is ‘Happy Birthday’. Weird.”
“Where is it coming from?!” I asked, and before he even had a chance to answer, I started walking back and forth on the balcony, looking down into the neighborhood, trying to find it. The recognizable sound grew louder and clearer as it slowly passed by on the street in front of my house.

It was a man on a bicycle, selling ice cream.

When I heard the song playing I felt comforted. It was like gently waking up from a deep sleep. I thought the tune was appropriate too, because it was time to celebrate a birth, the start of my new life officially beginning with the past four years behind me.

“I feel a lot better suddenly”, I confessed to Ryan, smiling at him.
“Good”, he replied, and he leaned in to hug me.

I don’t know how it’s going to be without my mother in my life everyday. Looking back on it now, it’s hard to fathom everything that’s happened in the past four years. My heart literally aches when I think about it. But after realizing the depths of my experience, knowing that I made it through what I thought would never end, and finally moving on, I feel like I can face what ever may come today and every day after today..

without my mother and without my father.

The past four years is over and its time to start living on my own now.

"Nope."

Yesterday afternoon, Patrick and I decided to stop at a McDonald's for lunch. The drive-thru line was backed-up so we parked and chose to order inside. It was the same dilemma and customers were lined up at two separate open registers. I wasn't sure what I wanted to order, so I decided to go to the ladies room to wash my hands and think of what to order.

I walked into the bathroom, pulled the tab on the liquid soap dispenser and began to wash my hands. After I was done rinsing the lather away, I turned around and put my wet hands underneath the air dryer. It turned on automatically and I let the warm air current do it's job, blowing out and over my hands as I stood in front of a full length mirror that hung on the bathroom wall. I realized this was the first McDonald's I'd been to that had this type of mirror in the ladies room.

Placing a full length mirror in a fast food restaurant seemed like a bad marketing choice, I theorized, as I hypothesized that since women would have the opportunity to check out their bodies in the restaurant, they may possibly choose to eat less as a result. Wouldn't that equal less sales? Or maybe it would convince them to order the over-priced salad/wrap option?

My ridiculously too deep thought was interrupted by the silence the dryer left when it stopped. Then I turned around to open the door and walk out of the restroom. Before I got the door open, I felt my nose start to run. I let go of the door handle and walked over to one of the bathroom stalls and quickly grabbed some toilet paper, blew my nose, and tossed the trash in the toilet. I raised my foot up and pushed the flush handle down with my shoe. When I put my foot back on the ground and looked up, I noticed I wasn't alone.

A little brunette girl, probably around nine or ten years old, was standing in the bathroom, staring at me. I smiled at her and she smiled back at me. She slowly sauntered toward the sink and put her hands under the automatic water faucet and began washing. As I walked past her, I could see in my peripheral vision that she was still staring at me.

"Aren't you going to wash your hands!?!?" she asked, genuinely concerned.

It seemed like a strange question to ask until I realized that she probably assumed I had just used the toilet when she walked in on me flushing. I tried to think of the right answer to give her. Do I stop and wash my hands again to appease her? No, I'm ready to order now... The little girl was looking at me with big brown eyes, begging me to answer the question. My answer?

"Nope."

Her smile turned into a large frown and she looked at me like I just committed a felony. It was hilariously awkward. I didn't know what to do except walk away.

The Waking Dream

When I opened my eyes this morning, the sun hadn't risen yet which masked everything behind the darkness in the bedroom. I wondered to myself, as I laid on my back in bed, staring at the ceiling, "Why on earth am I awake right now? I should go back to sleep." Before I could close my eyes to entertain the idea of catching a few more minutes of sleep, I felt something extremely warm push against the side of my rib cage, forcefully. Though I knew what it was, or rather, who it was, I turned my head and smiled to greet the force.

The force was Adam <3.

He was still asleep as he pushed his tiny fat feet against my body. I rolled over on my side to give him some more room to move in bed. The moonlight coming through the muslin curtains that cover our bedroom window cast enough light so that I could see just the outline of his silhouette. I stared at him quietly and got lost in a flashback from years before, when his dad, AJ, and I separated.

Adam was barely two years old in 2006 when, just a few months before we parted ways, AJ and I finally got him to sleep in a toddler bed in his own bedroom. When AJ moved out, all of the hard work we put into helping Adam learn to put himself to sleep went out the window and it didn't take long for Adam to find his way back into bed with me. I didn't object because I was still adjusting to not sleeping next AJ, so having Adam next to me was comforting. This was despite the fact that he was a bed hog and insisted on sleeping right behind me, alternating with attempts to push me out of the bed, every night.

It's been like that ever since 2006. I never got Adam adjusted to sleeping on his own again.

My mother was also a constant at-my-side, after my divorce from AJ became final in 2007. Adam and I moved in with her and she began helping me care for him as I searched my soul to find the strength to get past the depression and anxiety that overtakes a suddenly divorced, 23 year old, single mother.She insisted on trying to offer me comfort in the only way she knew how, which was through a series of ego stroking phrases like, "You're so much better than him! You're much better off without that loser!". Those phrases I clung to and started to believe in enticed me to allow my anger and ego to over-inflate. Then days later she would burst my bubbling new confidence through relentless hours of twisted, tough love talk; "You're not a good mother! You can't do this on your own!" This became a cycle that continued for the rest of the time I lived with her. It was confusing, heartbreaking, and frustrating.

With Adam pushing on me all night, along with riding my mother's behavioral/mood rollercoaster death rides all day, I wasn't sure who to point fingers at as to the reason I wasn't sleeping or eating anymore. Truthfully it wasn't either of them that caused the stress that began to consume my life.

It was just life.

Not even so much life, but it was me, and my disdain for the direction my life had turned. I didn't want to be 23 years old, divorced,and forced to take care of so much responsibility on my own. I didn't want to be with AJ anymore either. I was convinced that no one would ever want to be with me again because now I was tainted with a fly-by-night, unholy, matrimony that took a nose dive crash into the surface of rock hard earth. I was so disconnected with reality at that point, I wasn't sure if I survived the humiliation of my divorce crash. Top that with the not sleeping and not eating, and I may as well have been dead. I looked like a zombie that wandered off the set of Night of The Living Dead. My (so-called) friends back then made no secret to gossip about my current D.O.A status to anyone who would listen.

I remember reading online once; I was being labeled as a terrible parent according to my, "friends". The line that stands out mostly from that terrorist attack on my motherhood was, "Be thankful for your sun! He's the only one you got!" I remember being torn between humor and betrayal; laughing at the misspelling of what should have been the word, "son", and fighting back tears because my son was and always will be the one subject that NO ONE is allowed to speak ill upon.

So my husband jumped ship on me and the people I called, "friends" did the same. Luckily, I managed to weather the high seas of drama. The image of a better life and my faith that the high tide of negativity in my life would eventually subside helped me get through all of the loss. And Adam. I wanted to get my life back so I could be there for him and make his life better.

I reached shoreline in 2008 and thought the worst was over. But instead of being stranded on an awesome island like Gilligan's, I found myself stranded on an island that was littered with more poor choices I made, along with my family's fate of experiencing death, three-fold, in 2009. 2009 made 2006 and 2007 seem like child play's in the realm of tragedy and disappointment. Again, I pressed on, and though 2009 was literally like living hell on earth, I learned how to be stronger because of what I had already lived through. I bounced back faster than I ever had before.

After escaping the living hell on earth, I resurfaced in 2010 on a new island known as, "Texas". Life in Texas is far from perfect but I can definitely say that it's on the up-and-up these days. It takes a lot of living in order to learn, and I know that from experience. It's taken this much time and this much bullshit for me to realize that I was the reason for much of the strife in my life. Since January 1, 2010, I vowed never to let myself become a willing part of the cycle of negativity.

All of these flashbacks took just a few seconds to play out in my memory as I woke up on this morning. Adam brought me back to present day, in bed, when he raised his hands up and traced his little fingers over the outline of my face; touching my eyelids, my nose, and over my fuller parts of my lips. He giggled and smiled, though still sleeping soundly. I felt truly lucky to have lived through the past few years to be here now, awake, to feel Adam's warm feet and hands touching me.

My memory suddenly flashed back to my dad. I wondered if he ever had moments like these with me. Moments that he kept safe, close to him in his heart, in his memory for all of his life. I wished he could have been there waking up to see Adam and to share that moment with us, but it was a moment meant only for Adam and me.

It dawned on me as the sun began to slowly rise, that I stayed awake just to watch Adam sleep. I laid next to him, on my side, completely still, and watched him as he shyly smiled, eyes closed, dreaming freely and happily. I leaned in carefully and smelled his hair. The sun rose and promised us this time together, even if was only for that moment. I saw more than just my child sleeping. I saw our past, our present, and our future, in all of it's entirety. It was the moment I survived my entire life to experience.

It was the waking dream I was born to see.


If you were here
I know that you would
Truly be amazed
At what's become of what you made
If you were here
You would know how I treasured every day
How every single word you spoke
Echoes in me like a memory of hope

Now that I'm here
I hear you
And wonder if maybe you can hear yourself
Ringing in me
Now that you're somewhere else
Because I hear your strange music
Gentle and true
Singing inside me
With the best parts of you
I hope somewhere you hear them too
Now that I'm here
  I love you

I miss you but it's okay
You can go now.
-- If You Were Here/POE

The Store Room

Earlier today, when I walked down to the store room to do requisition, I noticed the store room manager, Enrique, wasn't there. He left the door to the store room unlocked so I figured he would be back soon. I let myself in and began to load up items per my manager's request. Roughly ten minutes later, I heard a voice shout in my direction.

"Hey girl! What do you think you're doing?!", the voice questioned. It was Enrique. "You trying to get me fired?!" he jokingly asked me.
"No, no, no!" I replied, "I'm sorry, I'm just doing what my manager told me I had to do, NOW."
"I gotcha, I gotcha. I just don't want either of us to get in trouble", he explained, "or anyone thinking that you're in here stealing or whatever."
"Oh yeah, there's so much awesome shit in here to steal!" I laughed, "Even though I'm like, totally poor, my parents taught me never to steal."
Enrique looked at me like he missed a key part of the conversation, and he scratched his head, "You used to be poor?" "
"Umm...yeah. It' not like I'm super rich today either", I explained, as I continued to load boxes onto a push cart. "Most of my money in the past six months has been spent on my son and the cost to relocate."
"Relocate?" he asked.
I laughed, "Yeah, I thought I told you this already, I'm not originally from here."
"Well where are you from then?" he asked me.
"Oklahoma." I said, and I began to walk down one of the aisles in the store room, in search of espresso beans.
At the opposite end of the aisle, I heard him shout,  "Why did you move?"

My spine began to freeze instantly, starting from the small of my back, up to my cerebellum. The sub-zero reaction forced me to stop, dead in my tracks. I hate when people ask me this question because I hate explaining the reasons I had to move and I hate anticipating people's reactions when I tell them. I struggled to take a deep breath and took solace in the fact that no one had asked me this question in a while. I let the breath out and began to defrost.

Muscle memory returned to my legs and I turned around and blurted out, "MyDadDiedLastYearAndILostAFamilyMemberToHomicideI'vePrettyMuchBeenOnTheRunSince."

Enrique's face froze for a moment and I waited for him to retreat back to his office. Instead of being startled he asked even more questions. "So did you kill your dad?" he asked. We both looked at each other and laughed, half nervously and half facetiously.

"Of course not", I explained, still laughing slightly.
"That doesn't explain why you think you're poor though", he said.
"I'm just not rich, that's all", I told him.
"What, your man don't take care of you?" he asked.
I was appalled at his question. "No way! I don't want anyone to take care of me!"
"Why", he asked.
I was still in search of the espresso beans as I explained to him, "Because I don't want to owe anyone anything."
I finally found the beans, picked up the box on my own, and loaded it onto the push cart. I grabbed the requisition list and handed it to Enrique.
He shrugged his shoulders, "I guess that makes sense", and he signed the list and placed the carbon copy on top of the boxes on the push cart. I could tell he wasn't going to let me leave the store room without asking one more question. "Hey, why don't you let me help you?"
"I'll make it", I said, and I smiled at him.

I began to push the huge load of boxes on the cart, past him, by myself. I got out into the hallway and out of no where, I felt tears begin to form in my eyes. It's been a while since I've cried. I wish I knew why I cried, but I honestly can't explain it. It could have been a mixture of things. The mention of relocation...or death...

The only thing I felt sure about as I wiped the tears off of my cheeks and continued to push the heavy cart full of things that didn't belong to me, was that I didn't want to do that for the rest of my life.

Especially alone.


Divine intervention
Always my intention
I've been looking for something
I've always wanted
But was never mine
Now I've seen that something
Just out of reach
Glowing
Very Holy grail
Mother of Pearl
I wouldn't trade you
For the whole world.
--Mother of Pearl/ROXY MUSIC

Album Review - Tonight Tonight! / So Far, By Far (EP ) (2010)

Tonight Tonight!
SO FAR, BY FAR (EP)
(2010)
               

RATING:  
<3 <3 <3 <3

You know that feeling you get when you arrive fashionably late and you walk into a packed rock club on a Saturday night? The energy you feel from hearing shrieking electric guitars and pounding bass lines, mixed with heavy, heartfelt vocals, and drums that beat with a vengeance. The combination of rich sounds makes your entire body shake and you ask the guy at the door, "Who's playing?"

His reply?
"That's Tonight Tonight!"


When you download and listen to the first track (Take My Chances) off Tonight Tonight!'s sophomore album, So Far, By Far, that's the feeling you get; like you caught a fresh, young rock band, mid-set; playing LIVE. At first listen, So Far, By Far could be mistaken for just another power-pop rock band album, but that isn't the case at all. First of all, the band throws out the traditional pop conventions of using boring, repetitive hook lines to gain their listeners interest. The lyrics on Tonight Tonight!'s latest album are genuine and real, communicated through vocalist Jeff Whittaker. The sincerity in his voice as he belts out each song is very reminiscent of the sound of Tom Delonge's vocals, as Whittaker wails, "Take me as I am..."(Doorstep). Whittaker's hauntingly emotional vocals hang in your memory, along with the combined musical talents of Kyle Burkett, Lead Guitar; Matt Mc Coy, Bass; and David Tapp, Drums. The band takes us on a short story vacation of new sound locales and cryptic lyrical islands from one track to the next on So Far, By Far.

For music fans today, this is a breath of oxygen laden air and definitely worth the 5.00 cost to download.

You can also check out Tonight Tonight! LIVE September 10, 2010 @ The Curtain Club.


**So Far, By Far is available for download NOW on iTunes and @ amazon.com***

Every struck gold and better off dead moment

My mind never actually rests.

It's true. I'm constantly thinking, constantly trying to connect and put things together, though in no particular order. It's a catch twenty-two. In one sense my overactive mind spawns creativity for my writing and other artwork. On the other hand, my over-analyzation is the root of any negativity that filters its way into my life, because I dwell over the worst things way too much.

I'm pretty sure this is the plot line to every artistic tragedy; the gift, the curse.


Today, my mind was left in a state of purgatory that stemmed from talking to customers today at work. I noticed a common theme in our conversations. The reoccurring theme came from women talking about their constant struggles in their relationships with men.

The first woman came in and ordered her usual; A grande iced coffee with non-fat milk. She seemed content but I asked her how she was doing anyway. She replied, "CRAPPY. Me and my boyfriend just got into a huge fight right before I came into work!" Before I had time to respond to her answer, she interjected into the explanation of the fight with her boyfriend and why it made her so upset.

"He's always looking for a reason to fight because he's in law school! I swear, he's just looking for reasons to disagree with me, constantly!" the woman explained bluntly.
"Oh, he's in law school? Is he going to Texas Wesleyan?" I asked. (I had to ask because Ryan attends the same school.)
She paused for a moment, slightly surprised that I knew the name of her boyfriend's school. "Yes, it's Wesleyan," she said.
I changed the subject and shifted the focus back to her situation. "Maybe this is just a rough patch you guys are going through?" I suggested.
"No, no, no, that's not it," she replied, "This isn't the first time this has happened. Like I said, he's fighting with me constantly. I just don't want to deal with it anymore...I mean, I know every couple fights but surely there's some balance between the fighting and the peace, right?" 
I stood behind the coffee bar, silent for a moment as I pondered what the woman just proposed to me; Is she right? Is there a balance between fighting and peace that must be achieved in order to share a healthy relationship with someone? Hmmmmm.....
The woman snapped me back into her realm with the sound of a question; "What do you think?", she asked.
"I think I agree with you. It's funny, I never really thought about it like that before but I think you're right," I confessed.

Every single one of her shiny, bare teeth flashed me, coming out from their usual hiding place from behind her lips. She was smiling and I couldn't tell if she was doing it because I agreed with her theory or if she was just happy that I didn't argue with her. Either way, she left the coffee house with a little more spring in her step and I was happy for her.

I didn't have more than a few moments to explore the new found theory the first woman introduced me to, before the second disgruntled woman came into the store. The second woman wasn't alone though. She brought a female co-worker with her. They stood across from my register like a dynamic, superhero duo; arms crossed over their chests. From their posture, I knew these two women were on a mission.

WOMAN #2: (To her Female Co-Worker) Ugh! Thanks for coming with me. I didn't even really want coffee, I just wanted to bitch.
FEMALE CO-WORKER: (Smiling) No problem.
LIZ: Hi! Welcome to Starbucks! What can I get started for you ladies today?!
WOMAN #2: Can I get a tall, extra hot, white mocha?
LIZ: Sure! Can I get you anything else? (Looks at the Female Co-Worker)
FEMALE CO-WORKER: Oh...I don't want anything. I'm just here for moral support.
LIZ: (Laughs) Gotcha. (To Woman #2) Okay, your total is $3.56.

Woman #2 hands Liz a five dollar bill and Liz makes change from her register. She hands it to Woman #2.

LIZ: Okay, I'll have your drink out in just a few minutes.
WOMAN #2: Thanks!

Liz begins steaming milk on the espresso machine as the two women talk over the sounds.

WOMAN #2: Oh I just can't believe him! I mean, he was just acting like such a dick today! Even when we left the office earlier, he was like, "Where are you going?" and I was like, "If you want to know why don't you come with us?" He said, "Uh no. That's okay."
FEMALE CO-WORKER: Why do you think he was acting like such a dick today?
WOMAN #2: Ugh! I don't know and I don't even really care anymore.

Liz hands Woman #2 her drink.

LIZ: Are you having guy problems today?
WOMAN #2: Ugh! Sort of. Like work guy problems. The guy I'm having issues with is my boss.
LIZ: Ah...I gotcha. It's kind of funny because the girl that just came in before you was having guy problems today too. (Pauses) You know, I've never worked with male bosses except for once and that guy was pretty much an asshole most of the time. That's why I like working for women. They seem to understand and empathize a little more.
WOMAN #2: Yeah, but at the same time it depends on if the guy is single or not. A guy who's married or has kids understands what it's like for women. A single guy though, he totally wouldn't get it.
LIZ: Yeah, that makes sense. I guess you're right.

Liz begins rinsing dishes in a sink as the ladies continue to talk.

WOMAN #2: (To Liz) This drink is great! Thanks!
LIZ: You're welcome! You ladies have a nice day!
WOMAN #2 and FEMALE CO-WORKER: You too!

The two women walk out of the coffee house, smiling.

After the conversations I had this afternoon, I started to wonder if there was something in the weather that was causing men to act like assholes. I chalked it up to the rain and barely cooler temperatures we were experiencing. That explanation suited me for about... ten minutes. Once the ten minutes was over, I knew there was more to the back-to-back mention of constant struggles.

There's a reason this theme is recycling in my life. Now I just have to figure out why, I thought to myself.

I examined the feelings I felt as I listened to these women. I felt lucky because I wasn't involved in a relationship that consisted of me arguing with my significant other 24/7. That's been my routine for so long. It was nice to know I didn't and I wasn't living like that now. Don't get me wrong, I know that peace can't exist without conflict. However, there's a balance to it all and somehow I finally found a way to live in that balance's realm. I'm forever grateful for my life today and I appreciate everything that brought me here.

Every struck gold and better-off-dead moment in my life.

A boy like me
would never be seen
fighting for peace.
I want total chaos
and a holiday home
[NOT] in the east.
-- A Boy Like Me/PATRICK WOLF

"Just hold on." (The Reprise)

Word has it on the wire
That you don't who you are
Well if you could jack into my brain
You'd know exactly what you mean here
Mothers are trails on stars in the night
Fathers are black holes that suck up the light
That's the memory I filed on the fringe
Along with the memory of the pain you lived in...
Hello?
--HELLO/Poe

I swear on my life I haven't forgotten about anyone or anything.

To use the word, busy, is an understatement about life these days. Particularly, I'm referring to my own life and the lives intertwined around mine. I haven't finished the first draft of my script on the time schedule I hoped to have it done. Despite that, I haven't stopped working on it. I'm taking some time to pay attention to the interesting details instead of just throwing simple and generic dialogue into the mouths of the complicated characters I've created. Even with taking my time in order to do the complexity of the script some justice, I'm still on a tight schedule to complete it and I can't wait to share it with the rest of the world.

Speaking of tight schedules, making sure Adam gets to and from school everyday keeps both his and my sleeping patterns on a route toward some stability. This is huge for us because it's been over a year since we've slept well. Sleep is crucial for me and him, as it keeps us from getting moody and overly emotional with each other. When we're both rested and on our "A" game, all is right in our world.

Then there's work...
Work, work, work.

I actually like working at Starbucks and working band promos because I love embellishing my free time in both of those worlds. Working within the coffee and music industry doesn't feel like work to me. Of course juggling the two gets stressful sometimes, but I feel pretty lucky to have found places in both of these fields where I can cultivate my creativity, network, and get paid for it.

When Adam isn't in school and I'm not working, he and I have doing things together to keep our relationship strong. I could go on and on about how crappy last year was, but I won't. I will, however, acknowledge that even during our most devastating year, (AKA 2009), Adam was braver and more patient than I ever was. While I tried to cope with all of the loss back then, he never abandoned me and we weathered the worst together, side-by-side. He's my world and I don't ever want to take our time for granted. This is why I spend ALL of my free time with him.

His tremendous spirit and pure heart inspire me to be a better person and a stronger woman, everyday.

Then there's Ryan.

Ryan is one of the greatest people I've come to know in my twenty-seven years on this planet. He is sincere, loving, courageous, patient, kind, and genuine. We both have hectic schedules we work around in order to keep our lives in sync. This past month was our most trying because we didn't see each other as often as we would've liked. Nevertheless, we're managing to make our relationship work despite our recent financial and time constraints. I should also mention that Ryan is amazing because he doesn't mind sharing his time with me, with Adam also. That's a rarity to find; a man who loves and accepts both you and your child.

I've finally found the one [who loves my soul and] whom my soul loves...<3

I realize that it seems like I've left several important pieces of my life out of my schedule lately, but I swear it isn't because I've forgotten about anyone or anything, or that it's because I don't care. I think about everyone and everything on a daily basis. I miss my friends and I miss my free, solitary time. But when I imagine my life three years from now, after I've finished my first full length script and made a name for myself within the art world, I plan to take everyone and everything with me on the success ride to the top. This gap in communication won't last forever and once it's over, the end product will not be in vain.

In fact, it will be worth it.

Now I understand what Ryan said to me last week...

Just hold on.

I DO love everyone and care about everything around me. These days where I seem absent won't last forever.


I haven't forgotten. 
That I can promise, fully.

 

All of the ink that was bled from your hands
Has painted a picture that she understands
It's amazing

The voice of my father still loud as before
It used to scare me but not anymore
It's a maze.

-- AMAZED/Poe