It's All About the Journey

So, if you haven't gathered yet, I have a mild obsession with the band Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit. Great music, unparalleled lyrics, and humans behind the music that are profoundly wonderful. That band is an inspiration. They recently had a six night run at the Mother Church, the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville. There was a mad scramble for tickets back in maybe March. Now we can pick up. During the pre-sale for Nashville, I thought I’d try for Sunday because it seemed like the day least likely to have competition in my brain. So I searched for one ticket and the best available option and a second row turned up. It was $99.50 before fees, but I thought “I’ll never again have the chance to see these folks, my favorite folks, in this sacred place, this close again” so I bought it. While I had my other tickets mailed to me when I realized I’d have to wait until day of to print, I couldn’t get this ticket mailed, despite trying. So I called and had them send it over to Will C...

Something incredible has happened. It only took two months of living with no one but myself, the kiddo, and the cat for it to happen. I was sitting in my living room with the television on, not really watching it too closely, when for the briefest moment, I was at total peace. I hadn't tried for it, I hadn't expected it, I just had that realization that as I sat there, I was completely content. That is a magical feeling. The past few weeks have been kind of insane. I guess we can just go back to the part where things got weird and work our way forward. So I'd been helping (without being asked if it was something I wanted to do) with a fan page on Facebook. It was kind of treated as if it were some great honor to give my time to this page. I helped organize some fan activity and a place for trading concert tickets, made some stickers and distributed them, occasionally did things like get posters signed and mailed, typed up some statements from the collective admins, that...

We all knew it was bound to happen. I had that moment. The moment when I’m standing in my tiny new kitchen and I realize that I have two tiny drawers and no others. Y’all don’t know this about me, but I like to cook. And eat. Anyway, there is no way I’ll get all of my kitchen tools in the provided spaces. I’d thought about creative options and one by one, realized they weren’t practical. It looks like in the end, I can add two wire shelves, one in the laundry closet and one in the water heater closet and I may be able to figure the rest out. There are two cabinets beneath the counter and two beneath the sink, and three above the stove. One is blocked by the mangled plug for the above-stove microwave. I have nowhere to store dishes, or food for that matter. My counter is teeny, limited to my stand mixer, coffee maker and bean grinder, and the toaster oven. Add a dish rack and the water filter and I don’t know where I’ll prepare food. I cut open a spaghetti squash in the living room...

It feels empty. The floors are dark hardwood and the paint is fresh. It even smells empty. The bed is empty. It’s been two and a half years since I walked into a house knowing that it would always be empty. It feels like two things. It feels like… not exactly loneliness, but almost. Maybe just solitude in a way I don’t remember feeling it. I’ve lived 31 years and in those years, I’ve very rarely been by myself. I’m not sure I know how. But that emptiness also smells like freedom. It’s silly to think about it, but no one will be mad because I forgot to pick up my socks, no one will move my mail somewhere that I can’t find it, and no one will expect me to cook dinner or make some other arrangements every night. The kid is quite happy with takeout, and so am I some nights. There are boxes all over. Most of them are labeled. The move went well. We hired professionals for all the heavy stuff. It was all done in about six hours. I kind of purged the stuff I no longer cared for when I mo...

This is good. I keep repeating that as my mantra. I love change. I thrive on change, so this is good. It does not feel very fucking good. It feels lonely though I'm not alone. I got the confirmation for my UHaul this morning. I move out of that gilded cage in two days. I have a terrible cold. I have a full heart. I found my tribe a while back and we really are quite the crew. I'll post this up and share with them because they see me. Not over me or past me or through me, but me. All of me. The me who drinks too much at a Friday night concert and the me who has a total fangirl moment over a signed poster and the me who loves our little music family all the way down into my bones, despite my nearest and dearest telling me that I must be crazy for it. They see me and they hear me in every note and every word of that music we share in our hearts. He did finally let me have a cat. We got the cat at the end of June. He was a big, quiet Maine Coon we named Oliver. Eleven pounds of d...

Oh, hey. I guess I've been away for a while, huh? I guess it was a beautiful three months or so followed by you know, a year of being pretty miserable and then a few months of steeling myself to walk away from this notion I'd had of forever. A little older, a little wiser, a little tougher (at least I hope a little tougher.) Actually, I don't feel tough right now at all. I feel like an abused banana. I don't even like bananas. But that is one improvement. I learned to like me. I'm officially better than an old banana. I suppose I'd better get some confessing right out of the way first. I haven't been running. I haven't really run in a year and half or so. I kind of put that aside to focus on that stupid forever thing. Now forever is over, so I'll be right back at it to combat the lonely. You can't really be very lonely when you barely have the energy to feed yourself, wash yourself, and crawl into bed at night. I still dream about running. Ab...