Fore!

I managed to grab The Boy a bit earlier than usual today (by a whole 15 minutes! Note to self: pick a better route home). After a day full of broken computers and requests to camp out in Northbrook to oversee a new project (not the most exciting gig, but a break from the insanity/stupidity in River North will do me some good), seeing that lil' Buckley smirk was quite a relief. Following dinner, Liam and I played some miniature golf (glow-in-the-dark at that). Halfway in, Liam said something along the lines of "I must be the worst mini golfer in the world". The second I turned to face him, he started to well up. The irony was not lost on me as I told my son he was being too hard on himself.

Traffic Insanity

Anyone whose spent any amount of time with me in the midst of heavy traffic knows what a bear I can be. Leaving work tonight and beginning my 60 minute drive to Lincoln Square with some flooding, I had no choice but to yell at myself. Ok, so things didn't get that hectic, but when I realized that I wouldn't hit the Square by my planned 5:30 PM time, I felt myself tensing up. In the midst of of my drive, I was reminded of several conversations I had that day, mostly via e-mail correspondence. The phrase "it is what it is" repeated in my head like a mantra (ok, that was from yesterday). I know I don't handle things like conflict all that well, but I do the best I can at the time; mulling over it solves nothing. That isn't to say I should brush conflict off-the trick for me is to find that balance. At the same time, at what point do you stop hoping for civility and accept the fact that certain people should not remain in your life? I've certainly made as much of an effort as I can in sobriety to remain somewhat friendly with former girlfriends. With one or two exceptions though, I've found the majority of them to be distantly passively-aggressive (asking my friends if I'm dating anyone and/or warning their own friends not to date any of mine simply out of guilt by association isn't what I would call the mature thing to do, but hey-what do I know?). Am I that difficult of a person to deal with postbreakup? Apparently so.

Live and learn, my friends. Live and learn.

Liampalooza Day 1-1/2

Picked up Liam yesterday to begin our Summer. I thought this day would take forever, and events of the past few weeks only made it feel like I was crawling toward our start. After some shopping for lunch goodies we celebrated night 1 over bbq pizza and 28 Days Later.

Dropped Liam off early this morning for his 1st day of Day Camp. Beginning at 11:00 AM, I called the park to double check that he did in fact check in. Yeah, I need to mellow out. After a somewhat hectic day at work (too much to do in an abbreviated amount of time), I picked The Boy up, saying hi to W. in the gym. After dropping Liam's stuff off in the car we checked out the local library where Liam will be hanging a couple of hours each day until I pick him up. Weighing our options for (early) dinner, it occurred to me that we haven't done much hanging in Lincoln Square since the end of my last relationship and I started to get a bit...anxious. I know-ridiculous, right? Halfway into our meal at Costello's and I realized that I simply need to make new memories-I can stay focused on the past, and by doing so continuing to mull over what I could have done better; or I can move on and make new memories. Step one (ha!) involved a trip to Laurie's Planet Of Sound. I haven't been in there since things were...different, and it was good to see Adam (the discount didn't hurt either!). I promised Liam an overdue trip to Quake Collectibles so we hit that before grabbing a mocha at The Grind and heading home.

Bring on more summer days like this, I say. Minus the silly thoughts, of course.

Side Note: Talking to K. online today, I think there may be a trip to Seattle come Labor Day Weekend. The Bumbershoot Festival lineup looks killer.

On My Way To a Past Mistake

One definition of insanity is to keep repeating the same mistake and expecting a different outcome.

If that phrase does in fact ring true, than I must be certifiable. I wish I could just blame last night's "insanity" on exhaustion (texting from Schuba's with one eye open-stone cold sober, thank you). The fact was , I was lonely and any remotely attractive woman was there with someone else (yeah, flirting at this point would have been a great idea, what with all the "game" I don't have). I was willing to start up yet another cycle of what in my mind would have been selfish behavior; when my invitation was turned into an invitation to meet elsewhere, I did the usual, "I'm sorry, it was a mistake contacting you". I don't get it-I should be enjoying the freedom of being single, and I do for the most part. I like that I don't have to call someone every night or have certain days of my week set aside anymore. On the flipside, there are times when it'd be nice to have someone nearby who could come over at the last minute to watch, say Amores Perros (ok, maybe not-it's not for the squeamish). Until I can find that balance, though, I guess it's best to stay where I'm at.

Thankfully, I was able to get out of myself earlier that night at Vince's housewarming party. He's got a great place a block over from my mother's old condo. Met some of his colleagues as well as some people I've seen around in the rooms but never talked to before. As insane as I feel and act at times, I do like seeing my friends in love; they do make it seem possible.

Distractions aside, the Dosh show later that evening was incredible. Sold out crowd at Schubas versus the 50% full show at the Empty Bottle just months before. Word must be spreading, though drumming for Andrew Bird certainly didn't hurt, and support band Black Moth Super Rainbow were like audio LSD (that's a good thing, in my opinion). Word has it BMSR will be opening for The Flaming Lips on their Fall tour. Provided tickets aren't too pricey, I know a certain soon-to-be-12 year old who would more than likely get a kick out of both bands.

Leaving in an hour to grab Liam and begin our summer. About damn time.

In Sickness And In Dub

Last night's reheated dinner did not sit well and as a result, I was in no shape to do much of anything for much of today. By 8 PM, though, cabin fever set in and I found myself at the nearby Borders. Over a mocha (what else?) and a few magazines, I began my ritual. As much as I enjoy nights like this when I can just do my own thing, I also felt incredibly lonely. Perhaps this was an afterthought of last night's goodbye; perhaps it had something to do with the couples all around the cafe. I sometimes long for the kind of woman I can walk into a place like Borders with and not speak a word to-just knowing they are across from me would be sufficient. Unfortunately that's just not possible at this point in my life and when I'm not cursing myself for my...er, emotional retardation (really? I'm hard on myself?), I'm pretty OK with that.

Being the music sponge that I am, I've been reading up on the anniversary of Bob Marley's Exodus, this year being its 30th anniversary. Consequently, I've been on a dub kick as of late. Something about the reverb and the emphasis on heavy bass is very soothing (no, I am not high, but I can totally see how dub music can enhance that feeling). At this point it beats listening to music that reminds me of what a shitty boyfriend I can be (there he goes again, Mr. Self Deprecation).

Sunday can't come soon enough.

Public Image versus Kenny Rogers

Last night I went to bed with the following lyric stuck in my head:

Anger is an energy

1986 Public Image Limited


...and woke up today with these lyrics:

You got to know when to hold 'em
Know when to fold 'em
Know when to walk away and know when to run

1980(?) Kenny Rogers

I think it's time I follow Kenny's lead. Thanks, Kenny!

The Woodwork

As it so happens on occasion when I find myself single once again, I begin to hear from people who are otherwise absent when I am in the midst of a relationship. Generally, these are women who I may or may not have dated, or generally had some form of a connection with. This "go around" seems to have brought out more out than usual. While I am flattered, and maybe in a different time I would have used this as an opportunity to...er, entertain myself, I know that that sort of thinking will only result in more frustration. This summer I plan on focusing solely on Liam. Only four more days! I cannot fucking wait.

Musical Truth

Last night I tried out for an old friend's new band, and it appears that I got the gig. The band plays "melodically aggressive" music not unlike the very first band I was in. I received a cd with some songs a few weeks back to work on lyric ideas. Coming from my other (apparently not former) band where I made/make it a point not to write about romantic relationships, what I've been working on lately has most definitely been a product of what's been going on emotionally, and the music seems to perfectly compliment this. It felt really good to be in a room with 5 other guys playing nice and loud.

In hindsight, last night's conversation (or lack thereof) was probably not the best idea. I woke up this morning frustrated, (over)thinking about where it all went wrong instead of focusing on what role I played. There's a killer song amongst all this, I just know it.

Monday Morning Sweatbox

I must be quite the sight at the moment. With it being 78 degrees outside at present, it feels at least 10 degrees hotter in this sauna of an apartment. The extension cords I bought for the new a/c unit today were the wrong type. Idiot!

Father's Day came and went with little fanfare. I elected not to hit the cemetery after all as it had been some time since my last visit and neither myself nor my brothers knew exactly where Dad is buried. I plan on driving out on my day off this week and at least getting the map to his headstone, coming back soon with Liam to pay our respects. At Mom's invitation we headed over to her house to have a Father's Day barbecue with her, my stepdad Lou, most of his kids/grandkids, my grandma and Lou's uncle. Not an hour before we left to come over, my brother calls with Father's Day wishes and to remind me that it was Mom and Lou's 1st wedding anniversary. I could've sworn it was June 19th but regardless, I've been too wrapped up in my own drama and the pending summer with Liam (one more week!) to think about much else. Thankfully there was a Walgreens on the way. In the midst of putting together Mom and Lou's new swing, Lou's oldest son David and I were commenting on the volume of noise this year's cicadas were creating when lo and behold, I see just tons of the bastards collecting on the ground, on the trees, some even landing on us at various times. It almost seemed Hitchcockian if we weren't laughing/retching at the sight and smell of these things (the "sweet" smell of decay). After some good food and conversation/gossip (I thought my immediate family had some drama until I heard the latest concerning my youngest stepbrother), Liam and I made our way down to his neck of the woods and after saying goodbye to my slightly chagrined ex (she had no problem with Liam's haircut per Se, just the fact that she had just cut his hair only to have her work erased), I headed home.

I considered myself very lucky today to have such a great family. It did make me think that, for the most part, I really have nothing to complain about. In the end, we all want each other to be happy and healthy and I feel that much more of both after spending time with them. Aww.



Listen to Young Galaxy

Hairstyles of the Not So Rich and Famous

Yesterday Liam got his very first mohawk, something he'd wanted as far back as two years ago. I'm not going to lie, it looks really good. Late yesterday afternoon we took a cab over to Taste Of Randolph Street in time to meet up with Graeme, Mike and their ladies. The plan was to catch both The Life and Times and The Walkmen's sets but we only managed to stick around for TLAT (who never disappoint-I just couldn't justify dropping $10 on an import EP. Get that released stateside, dudes). We left around 5:45 PM to catch another cab to my friend Carrie's party in honor of Lori's 3rd anniversary. Carrie lives just down the street from Water Tower Place and the party was held in the Penthouse Party Room (that's the 28th floor) of her building. Talk about a view-to the left we had a perfect view of Navy Pier and the lake. If I was feeling romantic, I'd say it was the perfect place to take that special someone (and a few people did). Stuck around later than anticipated in the hopes of catching some fireworks that never did appear.

Back to Liam's mohawk-he counted 10 compliments to his hair throughout the day, and soaked 'em all up just like the chip off the ol' block that he is. Of course now he wants to dye his hair red or green, the pushy lil' leprechaun.

Father's Day

A moment of reflection if I may (of course I can-it's my blog).

This Father's Day marks my 12th year as a father; it also marks the 3rd year that my dad hasn't been around to celebrate it with. Picking Liam up tonight, I mention to him our rough plans for the weekend-Taste Of Randolph Street, followed by the sticking in of our heads at a good friend's anniversary party. Talk of Sunday comes up and I mention a possible trip to the cemetery to see Grandpa/Dad. I'm soon hit with the realization that I really haven't thought this through. Do I let my son potentially see me turn into a blubbering idiot in front of his own eyes? Suffice it to say he's seen enough of his old man's tears. I haven't thought of Dad to the point of tears in some time now. Perhaps I've numbed myself of the grief altogether? Doubtful, as I'm sure subsequent counseling sessions will prove (I hope) that I have more grieving to do, as well as a healthier means of letting it all out.

I would never tell my son that he should bottle up his emotions, but I can't seem to shake this...feeling that I don't want to embarrass myself on Sunday, or to make him cry if he sees me in such a state. Maybe it's the exhaustion (I am way past the point of being overtired); maybe it's the heat (too lazy to bring up the window a/c I bought tonight and the one that's currently running is as old as hell). Whatever the case, I miss the hell out of you, Dad.

Start A War

We expected something, something better than before. We expected something more
do you really think you can just put it in a safe behind a painting, lock it up and leave
do you really think you can just put it in a safe behind a painting, lock it up and leave

walk away now and you’re gonna start a war

Whatever went away I’ll get it over now. I’ll get money, I’ll get funny again
whatever went away I’ll get it over now. I’ll get money, I’ll get funny again

walk away now and you’re gonna start a war

We expected something, something better than before. We expected something more
you were always weird but I never had to hold you by the edges like I do now
you were always weird but I never had to hold you by the edges like I do now

Walk away now and you’re gonna start a war

Whatever went away I’ll get it over now. I’ll get money, I’ll get funny again
whatever went away I’ll get it over now. I’ll get money, I’ll get funny again

walk away now and you’re gonna start a war
walk away now and you’re gonna start a war

written by The National

Back at it

After a good two years since my last "real" blog (not including the ones I sometimes post on Myspace), recent events have prompted me to get at it again.

Here I am, up way past my bedtime drinking a mocha having just gone over this year's Lollapalooza schedule and trying not too think too much (easier said than done). I've recently gone back into therapy, having abandoned the idea back in 2002 after my first few months of sobriety. In talking to a friend of mine about some relationship woes, it was assumed that I went into therapy after my father died as a way of helping to deal with my grief. When I mentioned that no, I had not sought professional help on the matter, he highly recommended that I at least give it a shot.

Tonight was my second session and a few things were brought to the surface, namely my difficulty in distinguishing the end of a relationship-in this case a romantic one. At what point do you realize that the person you are with just isn't compatible? How much are you willing to give, willing to take from it? How hard are you supposed to work on something before you give up? In my case, I chose to freeze up when the pressure got to be too much to bear-perhaps undue pressure I was placing on myself but a feeling of pressure nonetheless. I felt pressured to be someone who I wasn't. As a result I was not emotionally available and was not able to meet certain emotional needs.

At this point I can continue to beat myself up over what I didn't do or because I stayed too long in a doomed relationship; I could also choose to move ahead and work toward becoming a better person and let whatever happens, happen. I think I'll choose the latter.