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emmy [AT] curious-notions {dot} net
October 2019
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Wish comes true

Sometimes it’s funny how much life changes and how hard it can be to adjust to those changes while still staying the same. Inertia is such a funny thing. We can attempt so hard to ignore the changes or need for change going on around us. I think our ability to find new points of balance after the changes have swept you over, knocked you ass over teakettle, is such a bizarre thing.

I’m sitting in my living room in Texas. I can both vividly, incredibly strongly, feel the house on PR still around me while staring at this one. I can feel the microfiber fabric on the distorted, uncomfortable sage couch underneath me. I can imagine that Bear is sleeping in our bedroom around the fireplace and past the stairs down to the basement instead of directly on the other side of the fireplace. I’m sitting on our leather monstrosity that both Bear and I can sleep on here in Texas. I’m staring at our windows. It’s black outside here with no neighbors out back or street lamps, but I can still still see the streetlights and Mr and Mrs Right’s house. I’m in that in between phase that you get to when you’ve moved. Neither here nor there. Neither awake nor asleep. Twilight. The moment before dawn. I’m sick with longing for a place we decided to leave. I’m so grateful for the place we’ve made here in Texas. It’s awful and wonderful. It’s been a hard year. Genuinely deeply hard in a way I haven’t experienced in a while. Bear and I are still finding our feet. Bear and I some days are still trying to find if we have feet.

There’ve been some amazingly awesome moments. There’ve been some ugly, awful moments. I’ve been so grateful for the support and love we’ve been shown. I’ve been so grateful to know so many wonderful people. I’ve been so mad, upset, and distressed that I didn’t know how to get out of bed. I’m finding myself again though. I think one of the best signs of this is that my knitting is back. I also have a knitting group now. I have new people to find nicknames for. I have new depths to myself.

I still have Bear. I still have Linda. I still have my family. I still have my mind and my heart. I still have this blog.

Linda, the title is from the song “This is not a love song” by The Juliana Theory. I think the song came out in ’99.

In honor of Valentine’s Day

I have some songs for you. They defined my idea of romantic love when I was a little girl. I was sharing songs with Linda and forcing her to listen to the lyrics the other day and she requested that I post them for Valentine’s Day. Because she’s my girl, here we go.

The intro to that song makes me happy EVERY TIME I HEAR IT. I’m sad I couldn’t find a live version I liked, but I’m very partial to the album version apparently.

This is my second favorite “love song”. Where Linda and I grew up, there was (is?) a radio station called Sunny 99.1. They played “love songs”. Both of our mothers listened to that station. “My heart cried out for you.” The lyrics in this song slay me every time. “You are my lover, you’re my best friend. You’re in my soul.”

Then we kinda have to jump down to one of my lesser favorite songs because songs like “Always a Woman” or “Reason to Believe” are kinda about the harder sides of love. Where you keep loving while someone hurts you.

I always think of this song as the crystal staircase song for some reason and then have a bitch of a time trying to find it again. So I’m actually kind of happy that I’m posting it. The next time I have a craving to hear this song, it’ll be here.

“And no matter how old we get, It’s okay as long as I got you baby” This song I don’t remember ever playing on Sunny, but it’s still a beautiful song about how sometimes love makes it all bearable.

No one can lift the damn thing

My first hero is my maternal grandfather. His nickname was Pepe, so that’s what I’ll call him on the blog. I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned him before, but he had a profound impact upon my life. He was a loving father and husband. He was a bit of an alcoholic. He was a complete neatfreak. He LOVED garage sales. He would take the paper and find all the good garage and estate sales and take my grandmother every weekend.

I was extremely lucky in that I was born early enough in his life that he got to be a grandparent to me before he died and that I was a female. Pepe had a double standard when it came to his daughters and granddaughters versus his sons and grandsons. Boys were to be tough and tried and tempered. Girls were for hugs and love and encouragement.

My female cousins were all younger than me and thus not even teenagers yet when Pepe died. They didn’t get enough time with him. Pepe believed in me. Some would say it was because we were cut from the same cloth. My grandfather enjoyed books and quiet time and having everything just right. I truly believe that I got my OCD and my need for mental space from him.

Pepe taught me how to swim. He spent HOURS sitting in his chair by the pool and counted laps for me. He taught me how to check the chorline levels in the water before I swam and helped me scoop leaves out of the water.

He bought my first computer when my high school was starting a program for laptops. My mother had been fretting and worrying about taking out a loan and my grandfather found the money to pay for it. He told me to have fun and make sure I learned well. He believed I was responsible. I had that computer for over 5 years and then my mother used it for another year or two.

He taught me about cars. He almost bought my first car. I spent many Saturdays going to car dealerships with him and him telling me about different cars. His plan was to buy a minivan because his minivan was dying and to buy a used car for himself to go work. He didn’t believe I should drive a used car as a young woman going to school by myself.

He paid for me to go on a school sponsored trip to England and Scotland, and helped me with my Spanish. He would buy any romance, scifi or mystery novels he found at his garage sales. He built special shelves in my room for my paperback books.

I can’t even list all of the things he did for and with me. I loved him very much and am glad that I got to be part of his life.

you’re a fraud

I’m still knitting the big black sweater.

00003

Progress.

Now for content. So I read this blog post that this introvert wrote. It’s an author with 2 blogs and a twitter account. She was writing about how much she SUCKS at responding to comments. Sounds pretty funny huh? But when I was reading it, I totally totally got where she was coming from. I know what it feels like to not click with lots of people and to not know what to say even when you do click. I know what its like to find going to the grocery store exhausting. Not because you can’t walk around a store, but because there’s PEOPLE. That SAY things to you. That you have to make EYE contact with. It’s just. so….I want to say tiring, but it’s like you’ve got this place in your gut that starts to hurt when you hit your limit and the more you keep interacting the more it hurts until you want to cry and curl up in bed. And sometimes you push yourself so much your whole body hurts from holding itself tense and you get a migraine.

The days where I have three of my family members warring and all three call me to bitch about the others, I feel like taking the phone off the hook after talking to two of them. I doubt they’ll ever realize this, but when I actually start shit, it is NEVER lightly. I like arguments, but it’s hard to deal with a bunch of them at once, even removed over the phone.

I finally realized that most people don’t find going out in public and talking to friends, coworkers and family members in any way difficult. It drove me crazy growing up because I didn’t get how everyone else did it. My mom had a lot of reason when I hit the teen years to think she was raising a raging bitch. I would get these waves of uncontrollable anger and discomfort. It’s easy now to relate some of it to the days when I’d come home from high school exhausted and there’d be five people home and she’d want …something. To go shopping or to hang out. God. Even now thinking about it I can feel how trapped and panicky I used to feel on days like that and we were so good at hanging out and being friends back then. Now I just gots me and Bear in the house and if I can’t deal then I just let the phone ring. Knitting helps too.

Well, except that I’m pretty sure I screwed up the armholes on that sweater back up there.

(Brain. Don’t take any of this personally. I mean it! You give more than you take, even when you think you are just taking. I was just thinking after reading that blog post. Hell, you know when I’m exhausted and go into hiding and I tell you why. Title is from Do Better by Say Anything.)