Lost and Found

Something I like to do at the beginning of each year is clean house. I haven't cleaned my email inbox thoroughly for a while. I came across something I wrote, but never published, back in 2012 and I liked it so I thought I would share it even though it appears I never finished my thought. Journaling- something I want to get back into.

I want to remember and reflect on everything I've been through in the past year and a half so we'll start with where I left off. When I left.

Fall of 2011 I decided to quit my job and go out on my own. It was a time in my life where I felt like I was missing out on something and finding myself unhappy with my job and recently single, I wanted nothing more than to escape into the world and be a "traveler".

I spent a month in NYC with my friends who were very gracious in keeping me company, taking me out and putting me up (Thank you Katie Foster!!!!). I was able to get in with a local musician crowd at BlackBird's in Astoria where I played both their bi-weekly acoustic nights during the month. I also embarassed myself at a very well known East Village open mic, Sidewalk Cafe. Apparently profanity isn't highly regarded there when you're half in the bag and unable to find where to plug in.

I traveled in and out of NYC to make little trips to Boston and Connecticut. I had aspirations of working at a farm out in CT again despite 2008's farm debacle. I took the megabus out to stay overnight and get a feel for the place to see if I could see myself killing some time, working and living there. The entire bus ride I felt as though I was literally headed in the wrong direction. I was so paranoid I was on the wrong bus, it almost made me sick. Upon arrival, I met the owner who looked stoned out of his mind and had me sleep with a pillow and blanket that smelled like piss on a cold slab floor. I convulsed for a good half hour before convincing myself that if I just went to sleep, tomorrow didn't matter. I was NOT going to work on that farm. It was ok that I had quit my job, sold my car, and got rid of my apartment. I told myself no one would judge me, trotting home with my tail between my legs. I needed to trust my instincts. Just go to sleep- and I eventually I did.

Next I wandered in and out of D.C. on my way to North Carolina to visit with my sister and friends. Megabus was my ticket the entire 3 months of travel with it's cheap tickets and free wi-fi. I started obsessively applying for jobs. Having slept in others houses for that long, I got to a point where I just wanted my own space again. I wanted to be able to lounge around and nap without feeling like a sloth. I wanted to cook food and crank tunes without being seen as a burden. I wanted to play my guitar in the middle of the night, drink to excess while watching Sex in the City and eat Indian Food in my underwear. But, mostly, I just wanted a place to cry. Sometimes, you just have to.

My last trip was to TN where I met up with a friend from college and his girlfriend. We went square dancing, got to check out a blue plate special, and I played an amazing set at an amazing bar. I felt so good and so sad. I was tired and alone.

I came back home (to Buffalo) and set myself up with an apartment, got a job and reconnected with the scene.

The Art of Finding Friends

Having moved 500+ miles away from my family and friends in 2012, it’s been hard times. Typically, I make friends easily. I like to talk to people and do stuff so it’s never been that difficult for me. I always kept a key group of friends though, those that I could always count on to get together with, and it really hurt to leave them behind when I moved.

Coming to NH, I became more reserved. I don’t know if this is because it hurt to leave all my friends behind or if I was holding on to the notion that, “No, I don’t need new friends, I already have friends, GREAT friends! I’m not going to replace my perfectly good ones just because I moved!”

Welp, here I am encroaching on 2 years later and I pretty much have one die hard really good friend in NH. Love her to death, yes that’s you Marilia, but I’ve learned along the way that you can’t put all your eggs in one basket and so I’ve decided to branch out.  

Last night after yoga, I decided to ask one of the women that I practice with if she wanted to get together. At first it kind of sounded like I was asking her out, and then when I explained, “it’s just that I don’t have a lot of friends” it just sounded sad and desperate. I was really embarrassed for myself. Not to mention she responded with, “yeah, maybe I’ll invite my daughter along since you two are more around the same age”. HA! This is another problem I’m coming up with. Where are all the 30 year old women at?! Don’t get me wrong, I like to feel young and hang out with a younger crowd, but my interests have changed since leaving my early and mid-twenties.  Do 30 something women even live in NH?! I’m in a big black pit of young and old! 

And so, today I signed up on meet up.com and joined several groups targeted towards women in their 30’s looking to hang out with other women.  I honestly felt like I was filling out a dating website survey. I’m not sure if friends will come of it, I’ve heard stories of failed attempts from a great friend back home, but for now it’s making me feel a little less desperate knowing there are other women out there like me, just trying to find a new friend.

Thanksgivegan

Although I don’t agree with how Thanksgiving first came about with all the murdering and pillaging of the natives and I think that should foremost be acknowledged- I do agree with what it’s turned into; the coming together of family/friends over a nice meal. This will be my first vegan Thanksgiving so I want to give thanks to all the foods I’ll be missing this year- 

Thank you Turkey- dark meat only

Thank you green bean casserole

Thank you marshmallows with sweet potatoes

Thank you gravy

Thank you buttery, milky, delicious breads and potatoes and pies!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHH!

So what exactly am I going to eat for Thanksgiving this year you ask? My boyfriend, sister and her boyfriend are all attending a Vegan Thanksgiving hosted by the Triangle Vegetarian Society of North Carolina!  This is a buffet of all Vegan dishes that you can gorge yourself on for hours!  The menu isn’t what I’m used to in regard to Thanksgiving past, but my mouth is already watering looking at what will be filling my plate(s).

WARNING- Fat Pants Required!!!!!!

On top of all this deliciousness and the fact that we don’t have to clean 1 goddamn dish, I’m going to now boast what we are doing for Black Friday. Although it does deal with over consumption (a no-no in the Albini/Whitmore realm), it’s ALL local and, more importantly, necessary. 

7th Annual Black Friday Cask Festival

Sorry to put my awesome weekend on blast, but I’m completely excited about this weekend, not only to see my sister, but to do some new amazing things with the people I love most. T-12hours until take off 


To close, a picture of the lovely Tulip the Turkey of whom my bestie Christy adopted this Thanksgiving

OreNO!

A week or so ago I went to the grocery store during lunch and I thought- I want something really bad for me. A comfort food that is still Vegan, most likely made out of chemicals that my body will reject eventually. Something sugary sweet. I settled on Oreos.

People have been stopping at my desk all week to ask for a couple. Thing is, these Oreos are addicting. I can’t just have one, I have to have 4 or 5 every time I open the pack. I know they are bad for me, but I can’t stop!!

A co-worker of mine comes over, knowing I’m Vegan, and says he’s surprised I’m even eating them! “Do you even know what’s in those?!”. I do actually, I've made this horrible decision to eat them all on my own...I think. I want to see what others have to say about it so I googled, “What are in Oreos”.  By some WEIRD alignment of the universe, this article pop’s up at the top- This Cocaine Tastes Like Oreos posted just last night!! 

It's a great article that speaks not only about the horrible ingredients in Oreos, but how corporations design them to be addicting chemically and THEN a step further in saying corporations/media make you think, not only do they have some mysterious power over you, but that you are in fact weaker than whatever it is you are addicted to. Essentially it's a cop out for you- "I can't quit eating/smoking/drinking because the media told me that these are addicting and addictions are hard to break". You agree with this because you can’t seem to stop and unfortunately, most of us seek sources outside of ourselves to pin the blame on.

Turns out, YOU ARE NOT WEAK! You have a brain that can outsmart a corporations campaign to make you think you are addicted to something. You’re not being chained down and forced to do whatever it is you do. Really, you’ve been essentially brainwashed. 

LOVE YOURSELF! BREAK YOUR ADDICTIONS! 

 I'm not going to feel bad for falling prey to this- everything in moderation- but I am going to toss the rest of these in the trash.

Tarred Mexican-Cowboy Fresh Out of the River

Bob wanted to go pan for gold Saturday morning so I decided to take my own adventure. I made some camp coffee, threw on my poncho and cowboy hat, and walked until I came upon some railroad tracks. I walked and walked and walked down the railroad tracks until I came to a gorgeous metal bridge with a view up and down the river. I sat down on the tracks in the sun looking upon the mountain and river before me, so beautiful in all of it's fall weather magnificence. I sat there for 45 minutes or so until I decided to go back to camp when I realized I was STUCK to the tracks!!! There was tar gluing my ass to the railroad! After a few firm rips, I became unattached, but streaks of tar were still sealed to my yoga pants. It was, at the time, a good idea to go down to the river and wash my pants.

I walked down the hillside, and underneath the bridge, took off my shoes, socks and yoga pants and squatted next to the river to pick and wash the tar out. I figured I could hang out and let them dry because they were made of quick drying fabric. There I stood, pant-less in a poncho, when the train whistle blew. I scrambled to get out from underneath the bridge as the tracks were open and conducive to spitting stones down below. I quickly threw on my clothes- sandy feet in the socks, sandy socks in the dripping wet yoga pants and finally into my unlaced boots. I awkwardly run-trotted down the rocky river bed, not secure in my apparel, until I was sure I was safe from unidentified flying objects when I finally turned around to see, in all it's glory, the "Concord Scenic Train" FULL of people hanging out of their windowless box cars taking pictures of the beautiful fall foliage, mountain, river and me... standing there like some tarred mexican-cowboy fresh out of the river.

You best believe I tipped my hat.

Stretching out my arms and legs and toes and YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWN.

Wow. I’ve been gone for WAY too long. Perhaps it was my lack of executing my affirmations that caused me to disappear from  sheer embarrassment.

Brain: What are you going to do?
Me: Life goes on.
Gut: You say things you are going to do and don’t do them. Who’s judging? 
Me: Most likely myself.  
Heart: But, perhaps your failures were so you would end up where you are now.
Me: The path is winding, not narrowed.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I feel like blogging again.

Under the Bridge

This song came on my Pandora today and I left my chair where I was sitting and landed on the floor of the upstairs of my grandparent’s beach house. My cousin Johnny is playing this on cassette tape over and over again as I sit quietly and listen.  That’s where I go every single time this song comes on… good lord, baby face Anthony!