Dearest Xanax readers…. I have come to a point in my blogging … career? is that even what this is called…. that I need to archive Xanax or Running Shoes, and eventually shut it down. I know that I have many readers that have been with me from the very beginning, so I want to let you know that although I am shutting this down, I have started the next chapter. If you loved this blog… come away with me, and follow me over at: Jameson & Vinyl.
It’s been roughly 86 hours since I watched the Counting Crows. Give or take. I still can’t wrap my brain around it. You know those moments in time that you wait for… then they happen, and before you know it you’re left reflecting on it?
My mind is still blown. Beside itself. Inside out. So without further geeking out all over this sentence, let me try to put this life altering (for me) concert in perspective.
I get to Nashville around 5 pm. While changing for the OUTDOOR concert, it starts POURING, monsoon style. Now I’ve missed them before, due to rain cancelling a show… mind you. But this time, I don’t even waiver. Finish straightening my hair, add an extra layer of clothes… fuck it, this is happening. My ticket says rain or shine. Let them try not to play. LET THEM TRY!!! The rain ended as brazenly as it began and the sky became crystal clear within the hour.
The Ascend Amphitheater is down by the river in Nashville, the city glowing behind the stage. Two beautiful bridges just off to the right, it feels like Nashville. It feels like a great American city built around a river, music, and life. I may have been skipping at this point, which is a big deal for me, I don’t skip… or exude happiness often.
By the time we are finding a place to stand out on the grass, Rob Thomas is already doing that sexy, crooning that he does so very well. His energy radiates from him, and has the audience involved and captivated by him immediately. Not only that, he’s wearing a Counting Crows t-shirt. Whhhaaaaatttt. I don’t want to take away from Rob Thomas for a second, Matchbox Twenty was my first concert, 20 years ago, and I have seen him 4 times since. I LOVE ROB THOMAS.
However, the Counting Crows… the MFing Counting Crows were about to come on stage. I didn’t miss it… again. And then just like that… they were there. And Adam Duritz was pouring out the lyrics to Sullivan Street. I felt like I was high as hell, my head was spinning, my heart was pounding, there were legitimate tears in my eyes. But I had only started sipping my first beer. The high was straight life and happiness. There is such an amazing quality to that feeling.
The concert went by in a blur for me. The band was fantastic. His voice was clear and crisp throughout, his mood was energetic and happy. His demeanor feeding off of the intensity of Rob Thomas. They shared the stage well together. One of my favorite moments was listening to Rob sing Rain King with Adam. The first time he got to do that on stage must have been surreal for him, I clearly remember him covering Mr. Jones 20 years ago. He’s made it pretty clear he’s a big fan of the band. All in all, my night was an intense high, watching two of my favorite writers/performers end a summer long tour together on stage in Nashvegas, TN.
Until next time sweet Nashville, until next time. xxxooo
I stare at a blank page in front of me, looking for a place to start… seems like that would come easy with the blankness staring back at me. But it isn’t. My soul is reaching. Like a flower, I can feel it pulling me toward light, through the concrete, I’ve always grown, anyway. God is cool like that. He gives, and takes away. Casting Crowns lyrics, “I will praise you in this storm,” come over me like a blanket.
There is so much heaviness in my life right now. I have so much to say. So much honesty to dump out. To free from my guts. I feel like I am running from a serial killer of time, and begging for my life from a ghost I can’t identify. Each day is a battle from beginning to end. Losing people. You’re never ready. You’re never prepared.
I’m not even sure where it started. I just know that it did. As it consumed me, I started just filling the empty with pure anger. Hatred. Annoyance. Frustration. Aggravation. Nothing positive lives here anymore. Well that can’t be true, because something inside me is fighting to break through the concrete. It’s pure soul. It’s that mustard seed that was planted so very long ago. Planted as a child. Watered as a teenager, standing between two of my dearest friends in a small church in Gulf Breeze. When I was too scared to go forward, both Mellow and Amy held my hands and walked with me. I wanted to be like them. Two of the brightest Christian lights I’ve ever met.
I think back to the light that radiated from them. I think about the other Christians I’ve come in contact with since then. Many lights burned out. Many torches, never made it up the hill. I think about my own light. I know it doesn’t radiate. But I know that like a star a billion miles away, my light is only dull because of how far away I am. But it’s still there. The ember needs fanned.
I’m tired of living angry and frustrated. I’m tired of feeling I am on the verge of collapse. I’m tired of doing what everyone else wants or needs me to do. It’s time for me to do what I was called to do. It’s time to bring this star back. The darkest of nights needs more stars. And I am fucking done feeling dull and dusty.
Last night I was out of the house for a few hours at my weekly pool league match. Things were going ok. Meaning they were not too bad compared to the last few Tuesdays I’ve had. As luck would have it, or karma, or whatever bitch is stalking my life this week…. my daughters refused to let it just be an ok night. The text messages start rolling:
Hailey: MOM… Can I stay the night at Abby’s house tonight so that we can get ready for the first day of school together tomorrow?
Me: It’s the first day of school. It’s a MOM day.
Hailey: Ohhhh mmmyyyyyy gaaawwwdddddd mom. I ONLY HAVE THREE YEARS OF SCHOOL LEFT.
Me: And I’ve take a picture of you every single first day of school, every year… I have 3 left to take.
At this point the SHEER FUCKING PANIC HITS ME. 3 MORE???? I ONLY HAVE 3 MORE PICTURES TO TAKE???? I have already taken 10 first day of school pictures of her? Tears are welling up. My heart is racing.
Me: NOOOOOOOOO!!! You will be home! I have to take a picture.
Hailey: Sigh…. can’t you take it on the second day?
(I’m screaming internally now… in expletives and curly letters that I can’t even understand).
Me: No. Just no.
Hailey: Ugh. Fine.
Pictures of her this morning turn out…. as they always do on Hailey’s first day of school.
Then…. there’s Faith. SOOOOOOOOO…… Our texting starts last night. She’s in a great mood. Chelsi is twisting her hair in knots for her to sleep on so she has gorgeous curls this morning. She’s elated. Until:
Faith: Mom… can I ride to school with Madi tomorrow? Her mom has time to drive her to school.
I’m instantly annoyed at all moms that have the ability to drive their kids to school, go to work, feed them, and get to sports practices on time… WTF am I doing wrong… I huff)
Faith: WHHHHYYYYYYYY???? They live in our neighborhood mom.
Me: Fine. But if Madi is sick and you miss the bus cause she isn’t going to school, then you’re walking.
Faith: God, Mom; Madi’s mom would totally still take me to school.
I’ve lost the battle. Of courrrrssseeee she would. My energy to keep arguing with the WHHHHYYYYY Monsters is gone.
Faith: By the way, your clothes are in the dryer, and it’s not drying them. I think it’s broken. Goodnight! I love you!
Sigh. HEAVY SIGH. FUCKING UGGHHHH)
This morning I wake up and realize I didn’t check the dryer when I got home. Sooooo my clothes for work are still wet. Yay. I make sure the girls are up. They are, Faith is mid panic because her hair is curled tooooooo tightly and I must fix it immediately. Hailey is growling in the bathroom we now share, and I am scared to enter.
Ahhhh, my sweet little dog, she looks like a safe someone to say good morning to first. I chance it. She doesn’t bite me. Small victory.
Time to try to get a few pictures of both girls together. This should go swimmingly. Faith is immediately standing too close to Hailey, there’s hair being pulled. Anger. Death. Blood, blood, blood. Ugh. I might have taken one that didn’t suck before Hailey’s bus came, luckily. I was just about to use my moves learned from Kung Fu Panda.
Sometimes there just aren’t words for what is going on around you. You just gotta go, get in the car, turn on some Rage Against the Machines, or Jewel… whatever… you don’t know me. And let their day, be whatever it unfolds into today.
Somehow after all the expletives and crazy thoughts I had this morning, sitting at my desk, my brain is still wrapped around how their days are going, how their friends liked seeing them again, if anything crazy has changed… and I can’t wait to see them over dinner tonight. As they roll their eyes and look at me as if I am from another planet.
Cause I’m old. And… ugh… so… just…. blah MOM.
Seems a long damn time since I picked up a pen… or a keyboard… mostly because when there’s one in my hand lately, I want to throw it through a mirror. A wall. A building. Doesn’t matter. There’s a monkey on my back, and the withdrawals are a bitch. Guess that’s the way that writing has always worked in my life. I have once again found myself in the middle of a divorce. In the middle of financial meltdown. In the middle of searching for myself.
Waves keep on pounding the sand though, and my feet keep me moving. Every time I start to think I made a crazy decision and that my life was simple, beautiful and … enough… that I should just suck it up, I get punched with another uppercut to the jaw, and it sets my feet back in motion. You know why? Because at the end of the day, I fucking matter. Took a dear sweet friend saying that to me yesterday about his own life, for me to hear the words. I matter.
Not the same way black lives matter. Or white lives matter. Or labs matter. Something else entirely. This is about me, dammit. Birthdays keep on coming. People around me keep doing whatever the fuck they want and waiting for me to clean up their messes, or telling me about them, or just making them and leaving them… but regardless… I digress. The point is… I’m 35 mfers. It’s my time. Me time. Jeanna-thirty. Ok, that was a little far.
I named this post through the looking glass, for two reasons. When I was a kid, I HATED ALICE IN WONDERLAND. HATED. LOATHED. It made no damn sense at all. However, since I fell through the rabbit hole of life, passing books, pictures, maps, touches, tastes; moving too quickly to grab on to anything…. only to hit the floor and need to be small, then becoming small to realize I left something way out of my reach…. ohhhh the irony is not fucking lost on me at all.
But my Alice, she’s a little twisted. She’s tatted, and edgy, and sassy.
When I stop and glance around my life, I see the things I have succeeded at, but I see my flaws too. They’re there. NICE… They’re there…. anyway. They are. And instead of standing here crying about them, I am changing them. Changing the things that broke me down. Changing the things that keep me from shining. Bringing things back into my life that make me sparkle. If I am going to keep on this journey through the looking glass, I’m taking my cat, the rabbit, and the hatter with me. Bringing some fucking friends for the ride. And I am taking the queen of hearts, cause she is after all, just in my imagination.