Modern Romance

When I was sixteen I believed in a certain kind of romance. Not having very many relationships (read: none) my ideas of romance consisted of what I think is best summed up in a scene in High Fidelity-

Barry: I wanna date a musician.

Rob Gordon: I wanna live with a musician. She'd write songs at home and ask me what I thought of them, and maybe even include one of our little private jokes in the liner notes.

Barry: Maybe a little picture of me in the liner notes.

Dick: Just in the background somewhere.

When I was nineteen my life took a different turn. An unplanned pregnancy, an engagement, in-laws, jobs- suddenly Little Girl Lost turned into Little Girl Better Get Your Shit Together, Fast. Romance took a backseat to reality. 

My first marriage didn't work out. Two people going through different sets of growing pains that turned them into strangers with different outlooks on separate paths- things got loud, then they got silent. The type of atrophy where you look across the dinner table and wait for the other person, with just as much sadness in their eyes, to announce the time of death. We only knew each other through our son. And in wanting to keep things happy for him, we severed our own animosity and forged new lives with the same goal- become better people for him. 

When I unloaded the bags of clothing and belongings, weighed more heavy by disappointment, by feelings of failure, into the empty room that I currently live in (although the scenery has changed drastically) I swore I'd never go through that again. I'd never marry again. And what's more- I'd probably never really trust the workings of love or relationships. The inner cynic had proof now and it became my cross to bare. 

One windy and overcast day in November 2011, my best friend/roommate and I went out to lunch at Bumsted's and began our usual lunch discussions. At that point I was fed up with my call center job that left me a silent ball of disenchantment at the end of every workday and Colleen, picking up the nuances in my behavior the way one will when you live with them for a bit, asked me if I considered just changing it up.

"Have you served before?"

"Yeah, kind of. It was alright."

"Why don't you apply here?!"

"Okay. Why not..."

I filled out an impromptu application on a piece of yellow legal paper and left it with our server. Colleen texted Bethany, former roommate and current bartender at Bumsted's, and asked a favor and a week later I had an interview. 

I walked in and asked the bartender about my impending interview, not realizing who I was talking to would become one of the most important people in my life. 

I got the job. 

I met Zack.

We hustled through a busy season together. Making small talk and jokes in between putting in orders and bussing tables. The small talk turned into hours long post-work conversations with him behind the bar and me becoming more loose lipped with each vodka gimlet until suddenly the stranger I saw the day of my interview turned into a friend and then...something. 

I walked home one day after a deeper post-work conversation. The kind where somehow you've etched out a place of comfort and camaraderie in a person. It was a brisk winter afternoon and as I walked I felt weightless and then something heavy settled into my chest (and has since never left)- I have strong feelings for this person. Me. The chick that hates everything and everybody. The chick that doesn't believe in most things, especially the fickleness of feelings. Suddenly, my body met the ghost of my former self.

"I'm catching feelings, as the kids say, for him," I confessed to Bethany one day after work. And her face lit up because she had been privy to information I hadn't- he had too. 

For weeks after that we did a lockstepped dance- the I Really, Really Fucking Like You But I'm Too Chickenshit To Say or Do Anything About It So Please Notice These Subtle Moves Dance. At this point we had talked until our heads turned blue. We had hung out. I asked for rides home from work even though I lived a distance close enough to even necessitate them (and had previously been walking to and from work every day) just so I could be in a small space, alone, with him. And I lingered before the exit thinking "now! Yes, now! Say it! Do it!"

"Okay, see ya tomorrow."

"Goodbye, Amanda."

The height of this dance came in March, where I couldn't handle it anymore and finally, in a sloppy text, confessed my feelings. Oh, modernity. 

We took a trip to Bisbee and everything came out on the way home and we returned from highway 80 a couple. 

It'll be two years in April. He's watched me struggle through a lot of shit. He's navigated through the process of becoming a step-father to my son. We've grown and bonded more and more every day.

I'm twenty-five. I'll be twenty-six in March. And now romance means something different than my previous teenage notions. 

Romance means not giving up.

Romance is finding pieces of yourself that you thought were dead in somebody else. 

Romance is greeting the ebbs and flows with grace and tenderness. 

Romance is picking up the kids or making dinner or bringing by a snack because you're TOO FUCKING TIRED FOR THIS SHIT!

Romance is greeting the ugliness with open eyes and acceptance. 

Romance is a second chance.

We picked out an older ring at Copper Country. A small, delicate thing that I looked at fondly for what it represented- taking something old and giving it a new life. 

That is romance to me now.

Body Love

 If you haven't caught wind of her on the internet yet, Jes M. Baker of The Militant Baker has been making a splash in the world of body positivity. Currently, my roommate is working together with her and a team of incredible women on the first Body Love Conference, aimed to promote body acceptance and positivity in a supportive community. In a world where society seems to hold vicious views and standards on women's (and men's) bodies thus having a negative affect on their lives, this cause is breath the fresh air. To be content, to be HAPPY, with oneself is thing we cannot lose sight of.

But movements like this have to gain traction, and events like this do cost money to put on. Although the outcome is priceless. So I'm asking you for help. Please help us get this conference off the ground and start a movement towards love- of each other and ourselves.

The Body Love Conference fundrazr can be found HERE.
AND if you'd like to attend this spectacular event, you can purchase tickets HERE.

Photo via The Militant Baker Facebook page.

Lou Reed

I can't be certain how I first discovered The Velvet Underground and Lou Reed. An avid reader of music magazines and an avid haver of crushes on musicians, it was only natural that they slip in there somewhere. And while they began to fill my iTunes collection (I graduated in 2006, I'm sorry I'm not cool enough to have had them on vinyl first) inconspicuously, the influence began to take hold.

Lou Reed is the reason I still quest for the perfect pair of black jeans.

Lou Reed is the reason that if I have a fantastic day with somebody I love, I immediately put on "Perfect Day" when I get home.

Lou Reed seems like the only person I didn't have to explain bouts of depression too. I just put on some VU and things started to feel like home. Things would freeze and I'd have time to re-group. Maybe this is why I feel the need to immediately find them in any jukebox I encounter. Feeling lost in a crowd, I can pop in a dollar and pick a few of their songs and feel less anxiety ridden. I could even feel good.

But if you're tired and you're sick of the city
Remember that it's just a flower
Made out of clay, oh, the city

Where everything seems so dirty
But if you're tired and you're filled with self-pity
Remember that you're just one more

Person who's there

Lou Reed is the reason why I hear "Sweet Jane" in my head every time I open up a pack of cigarettes. 

Thank whatever deity for The Velvet Underground. They help uncool kids with predilections for poetry feel just a little cooler. 

Lou Reed is the reason I bothered to write this shitty blog today. I haven't written much (excuse me while I replay "Oh! Sweet Nothing" for the third time) and it has been a sore spot for far too many months. The best artists inspire while simply doing their own thing. 

Thanks, Lou; for the music that was the friend I always wanted around when I just wanted to be alone. Or take a walk on the wild side. Or cool it down. 

It was a pleasure.  

Music Monday

I'm so terrible at updating these days, but explanations are kind of boilerplate.

Boredom
Uninspired
Disenchanted


But! Music has always made me happy, so I figured I would post today with something I found and cannot stop listening to-

 I think it sounds like a languid summer afternoon. Maybe a cocktail. Maybe a make out sesh with your favorite person. 

I could use both right now. 

Help Out "Wild Things: Burlesque Beauties & The Pets They Love"

 Burlesque happens to be a hobby of mine (albeit a sporadic one, but one nonetheless) and I am also the roommate/BFF to local performer, Pisa Cake. In between life we have rhinestoned into the early morning, performed and even traveled (Burlycon ‘11, WUT!) together in the name of our beloved craft. So when she gets FEATURED IN A BOOK I have to cosign that shit and buy like five copies. BUT! There will be no books to look lovely on my coffee table if the goal funds are not raised. So, I’m asking you for help. Every little bit helps and is greatly appreciated! I am unable to hug through the interwebs but know that I am sending virtual hugs of thanks.


Tony Marisco’s Kickstarter for the project can be found here. 

source

Friday Fondue

Back when I was writing over at Lullabies, I was doing a weekly roundup of links that I titled Friday Fondue. I sort of miss doing it so I figured I'd bring it back here.

A friend on Facebook shared this the other day and it is too good to not share again. Ladies and gents- Christopher Walken reading Where The Wild Things Are. 

Fellow Tucsonan and vintage stylist extraordinaire, Sydney Ballesteros of Golden Girl of the West does it again with a photo shoot that makes me think "this is what Megan Draper would look like if she went to Vegas." Check it out here. 

Speaking of Megan Draper (can you tell I've been stoked on Mad Men's new season finally gracing us with it's presence on Sunday nights again?), Buzzfeed gives you 11 reasons to love her. And I have to agree. 

These chairs!

It's near Summer in the Ol' Pueblo (our Springs are really more Summer-lite) and the Stevie Nicks wannabe inside of me can't help but find these outfits perfect. One, two, three and four.

If you're looking for a nice summer cocktail, Refinery 29 has you covered. 

I can't get enough risotto, so naturally this recipe was drooled over. 

As the mother to a son, Rebecca's post on letting boys be sensitive (and the stigma of them being called "weak" for it), hit home. It is so important that we raise empathetic, caring individuals in a world that experiences such harshness these days. 

And now, off to try and capture as much as of the weekend as possible. Cheers!

It Is You

It was you that I pined over at the bar to our mutual friend who knew our feelings were mutual but we were too shy to do anything about it.
It was you whose car I had an impossible time getting out of. Another song. Another block. Maybe we should just go get coffee? It took about five of those to work up the courage to tell you to come inside.
"Will you stay here until I fall asleep?"
It is you where I find any comfort in the world.

A year ago we took a day trip. I needed a change of scenery to try and recharge after a particularly draining month. Or, rather, a particularly draining couple of years. On our way back I laid my head on your arm and remained that way for about seventy-five miles. And for the first time I felt okay. Simply at peace with everything and myself. And since then we have been inseparable.

It was you that brought me back to life.

It has been a year, sweetheart, although it is hard to mark time these days. With our eyes on the horizon and our hearts holding on to everything in between, it is simply time. But it has been the best time.  The most loved, cherished and insatiable time.



Happy Anniversary, my dear.

This blog

This blog is not a collection of beautifully photographed moments.

This blog is not filled with clothing that cost more than my phone bill.

This blog doesn't have recipes.

This blog is me.

It is imperfect and pieced together. It is whatever I can muster from exhaustion or share from joy. It is my panic and my reverie.

It changes texture, tone and interest the same way my mind, body and soul have. It is an invitation in and yet as far as some will get but it is here. I am here. I am here to create, to crumple it up and say "fuck it" and start again. I am here to reach out into a great expanse and hope that I pull back something to know we are all still moving together in this.

This blog is human.

I have clung to words and found truth in them when everything else is a question. And so I write.

I write for here. I write for this place. I write for there and then and why and how and fuck and yes and him and

Me

This blog is me.

And I hope it is as imperfect and present and filled with the truth it took to create it.

Music Monday

Even though I've heard the Rolling Stone's version of this forever ago and every now and then (and even though I am a Stones fan) I am so smitten with Tegan and Sara's version of this song. I was introduced to it by GIRLS (Lena Dunham, let's be friends?) and now I can't stop hitting the repeat button like it owes me money and singing it in the shower when nobody is home. 

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

In trying to get back into blogging regularly again, I tried changing up the look a little and registering with Bloglovin again. I had been registered when I was blogging over at Lullabies and I figured it was time to set this space up the same way as well.  So there you have it. Riveting post, I know.



                                                        

Currently

It's been a busy first half of the month. Zack has started at a new job and is adjusting to a 9-5 after being in the restaurant industry for awhile, but he has been enjoying it. It's been hard trying to align some semblance of a routine now that we work opposite hours and weekends tend to be where the money is in my job, which means I'm usually working them. But I think we've found something we can live with until we move in together, which we're looking to do hopefully by the summer.
If that hasn't eaten up most of our time, we have been spending the rest of it celebrating birthdays. I turned twenty-five on March 1st. Jack turned five on March 8th, a birthday that he also shares with two close friends and my little brother. So, there's been a lot of celebrating in between the daily grind.
I've also decided to embark on a new venture that I'm pretty excited about but will explain more of in a later post.


I just felt like a quick update to get the ball moving again when it comes to this blog. One of the best ways I've found is a Currently post...


I've currently been-

Listening to... Bits of Devendra Banhart's newest album, Mala. It's been near impossible to get THIS song out of my head. I'm not complaining though. Other than that it's been a lot of The Walkmen, Talking Heads and the Kinks...as usual.

Reading... I haven't been reading nearly enough. Most down time is spent catching up on sleep with Freaks and Geeks playing in the background on Netflix. But every now and then I bring a book of one my favorite poets in the bath with me. It tends to be Bukowski...a lot.

Enjoying... Jack. There's just something about this age now that has been so fun. He's the handsomest devil with the sweetest disposition, and I'm not just saying so because I'm his mother and tend to be biased. We take walks and talk the entire way. He's easy to reason with now and he is so quick to learn and pick up on things. I'm soaking it all in as much as I can until his teen years hit.

Excited about... I haphazardly came across a group of women in Tucson that do written word shows every month and I've been welcomed and encouraged to perform. Think Vagina Monologues, but with a changing subject line and performances are used to raise money for local charities. I'm glad I'll have the chance to write on a deadline, which is something I've been meaning to get better at, as well as meet some more of the amazing women in the arts that Tucson seems to be bursting at the seams with.

Craving... Beets and brussels sprouts. If I could eat both all day, I would. Zack cooked me up a bunch of both on Sunday and there were no leftovers. I can't get enough of them. I'm also craving a little getaway, but I'm more likely to get the beets and brussels sprouts.



What's up with you?

Five

  Dear Jack,

 Tomorrow you will be five and I'm still not sure how this happens. The number feels rounder and heavier than it's predecessor. You are taller and have shed so much of your toddler features I have to remind myself that you're still the same boy.

Where did this go?

So much has changed in our lives but you've always managed to roll with the punches in a way that I, at twenty-five, admire. You have retained your sweetness towards the world and extend it wherever you can. There is a part of me that pleads with the Universe to not take that from you. I wish for your health, your future; but I wish, more than anything, that your disposition remains. 

In a selfish way I am filled with pride. There is a feeling that you've done something right when a person like you exists in the world. I must check that and check it often because you are your own person. You are my favorite person.

There are moments where I am caught in sheer wonderment. 

How are you MY son?

How did I deserve you?

Somewhere along the way I asked a question and then the answer was born. March 8th, 2008. 

I have strived to find what I was meant to do with my life. Some affinities stick and some fall behind. Sometimes I feel like a failure and sometimes I just feel like an amateur. But there is one undeniable truth in my life. 

You are the still point of my turning world. 

I love you more than you can fathom, Bubs

Mom

2012

  Amidst the excitement of the new year and posts promising the reclaiming of self through resolutions, I find myself still latching on to the moments of 2012 that kept my heart humming along. I don't often try and dwell on what will happen in the future. My life has been spent revising "plans". 

Adapting. 

Accepting disappointment or facing unknowns and moving forward. There were moments this year where moving forward seemed impossible, where everything felt too heavy to face. There were moments where I closed the curtains and let myself wallow.

"I don't know how much more of this I can handle. It never gets easier..."

Everything feels like an overwhelming challenge when you have depression lingering in the unchecked corners of your brain. There are times when your faulty synapsis and neurotransmitters turn from science to monster. It sits in the backseat of the car sometimes. You try and swallow it down with your coffee. It makes itself cozy in your body while you wonder where you left yourself. In the grocery parking lot? At the bank? Surely I must be somewhere. 

But there were also moments where I did find myself....

 It may not get easier but it I am lucky. 

When I was a regular church goer, at my baptism a friend gave me a card and on the inside it said "he never said it would be easy, he only said it would be worth it." It's been years since I lost religion, but I still find that line comforting sometimes. And while I may have my hangups, I'm still hanging on. 

I hope the new year finds you all in good spirits. I hope you can all make your own light and care for one another. Hold your families close and find the honesty in this adventure we wake up to every day.