I have an interview tomorrow.  Eeeeeee!

Not with a bang but a whimper.

I’m thinking about relationships and how bad I am at them.  Not romantic ones–though I do have a patent on just how not to go about those–but just in general.

I’m this insanely introverted person who craves people.  It took me a long time to realize just how much I love people.  My nature is such that I don’t always know how to express that in non-scary ways.  Thus, real, solid friendships are a rarity.

At the same time, I don’t know how to be anyone but myself when I’m in intimate relationships, regardless of whether the relationship is romantic or platonic.  When I feel something, I feel it to a depth that can sometimes take over.  I’ve reined that in as I’ve gotten older, thankfully, but when someone really matters, I still have to fight being too intense.  Not that many people I’ve gotten that way with read this thing, but–if you’ve been a victim of that, I’m sorry.

At the same time at the same time, I sometimes have to throw up a wall when I care so much it’s excruciating.  When I see someone I’ve held so dear for years making the biggest mistake of their life, and I’m powerless to prevent it, that’s the place I go to.  Again–if you’ve ever thought I didn’t care…well, you’re wrong.  

None of this excuses my social retardation.  That’s why, if you’ve met me, I have most likely been very smiley and chatty, sometimes even witty.  When the celestial spheres line up accordingly, dude, I’m the life of the party.  If you look at me a little later into the evening, though, you may notice I look very tired and have a blah smile on my zoned-out face.  That’s because I’ve used all my people energy for the next month or so and am now in a sort of social coma.

I’m thinking about how friendships end.  In high school, for most people–or so I’m told–it’s with loud yelling and slammed lockers and tears in the bathroom.  The friendship is then free to start up after the built-in waiting period, usually about a week later.

Grown-up friendships are different, and as I rapidly approach grown-up-edness, I’m seeing that it doesn’t work that way at all.  I’m having a harder time pretending.  I can’t always be the voice of positivity I once was when things aren’t going well.  Though I am an extremely more tolerant person than I was 5 or 10 years ago, I now see more of a difference between loving patience and condoning something harmful to someone I love.  I refuse to do the latter.  Thus, if a friendship fades because I can’t do so, I’m to the point now that I am willing to call it a day.

I’m a person who doesn’t let go easily.  We’ve been through this on here.  But, when I know I’ve done everything I can for a person, whether I’ve known them a lifetime, a decade, or a few months…if my conscience is clean, and if I know they’ll be okay without me, I am much more prone now to soften the grip of my hand and let theirs gently slide out of it.  I don’t do drama.  Not anymore, anyway.  I’m learning in some powerful ways that I have to take care of myself.  Only then can I be the friend I want to be.  If that makes me a bad friend to you, then maybe we shouldn’t be friends.

The past several months have been a watershed time for me.  I’m at a record point of watching people leave my life.  And they’re not really being replaced by anyone else, just maybe the shadow Facebook versions of themselves.  I’m going it alone in a lot of ways, and I am calmly okay with that.  I think I’m going to have to do that for a while, and I think that’s the way it’s supposed to be.  At least for now.

I’ll let you know.  Thanks for hanging in.

Feel-good Friday: “Dumas Walker,” The Kentucky Headhunters

My Facebook status of a few days ago said, “Holly wants a slawburger, fries, and a bottle of Ski.”  Maaaaannn, I love me some Ski.  I remember having no clue what it was when this song first came out and thinking maybe they were saying “’skey,” as in, “WHIskey.”  My family was driving through some part of Kentucky, though, some time later, and there it was in a gas station refrigerator.  It puts Mountain Dew and–I’m about to go there–even Sun Drop to shame.

Besides all that, I love this song and have since I was a kid, and this is just the absolute perfect time of year to head down to Mr. Walker’s with your baby.

Embedding was disabled on the original video, but check out this more recent performance on Fox News (?!).  

Let’s all go, y’all.

Thankful Thursday.

I can’t believe it’s Thursday already.  This week has been one long, lazy, rainy day to me.  And that’s not a bad thing.

1.  I’m still thinking about my anonymous Good Samaritan and thanking God for him or her.  I wish there were some way to let them know how much what they did was good for my soul.  And I’m so thankful that I’m still friends with those people from that church.  They mean a lot to me.

2.  I got my first tiny, tiny nibble on a job last night.  Not even a nibble–just a small brush of the lips, perhaps.  In any case, even if nothing comes of it, it’s nice to think someone might be somewhat interested in me.  I don’t want to start wigging out like I have the past four years (sigh) around this time when things look pretty hopeless, job-wise.  Maybe I won’t have to.

3.  My little balcony.  I discovered a weak wifi signal out here, so when I need the internet, I can usually pick it up.  It’s slow and not conducive to long net-surfing sessions, but it’s good enough.  The rain the past couple of days has made it so pleasant, and the sunshine and little breeze–gently coaxing the wind chimes my mom bought me–this afternoon have made it lovely.  I want to spend as much time out here, internet or not, as I can before the summer sun takes away the pleasant and the lovely.

4.  Now for something completely frivolous:  THEY’RE REMAKING CLASH OF THE TITANS with RALPH FIENNES and LIAM NEESON.  Let me explain–the original version was my favorite movie when I was really young.  I don’t think I missed a TBS airing of it.  One of the first DVDs someone gave me was Clash of the Titans.  It’s cheesy and awful on so many levels, but I still LOVE it.  Now, anyone who’s known me for a while knows that I have a low-grade obsession with Mr. Fiennes.  It’s been a lot worse in years past than it is now, but this combination, in my world, is something to be way thankful for.

5.  Time to clean out the baggage.  The few, the proud, who have been to my apartment know about its infestation with unpacked bins.  Yes, since September.  There are still a few hanging around, but yesterday I took all the bins my little car could hold back to my parents’ place for one of their Goodwill runs.  I’m liking my little haven more and more.  Let’s just hope I get to keep it.

6.  Letting go.  I finally have.  I don’t now why it takes me so much longer than most, but it does, and I accept that about myself while rejoicing–I’ve let go.

7.  Last, but certainly most, is my little Sister Golden Hair who I got to see on Memorial Day (and who can now walk on her own!):

Jay Bennett, 1963-2009

My concert buddy Brad texted me last night to tell me that ex-Wilco member Jay Bennett died suddenly Saturday night.  Jeff Tweedy also posted a statement on the Wilco website.  He was only 45.

It may sound silly, but I felt a tiny bit of a personal loss at the news.  You know, of course, that Wilco is tied at the top of the list for my favorite band.  My first real knowledge of Mr. Bennett was actually upon watching the Wilco documentary I Am Trying to Break Your Heart a few years ago.  From that, frankly, I kind of surmised that he was a jerk.  Neither he nor Tweedy really come off as guys you’d want to be BFF with in the film, but Bennett is definitely portrayed as the villain in the drama surrounding Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and his eventual split with the band.  I’ve seen Wilco and Jeff Tweedy in a couple of live shows since then and found them, at least onstage, to be witty, charming, and personable.  

About three years ago, Brad and I went to see Jay Bennett at 3rd and Lindsley.  I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect, having seen the aforementioned documentary, and I didn’t know any of his solo stuff.  What the small handful of an audience got, though, was a smiling, self-deprecating, beyond-talented rock and roll singer who put on a fantastic show.  All of his demons and somewhat of a fall from grace only added to the knowing earnestness of his performance that evening.

After the show, Brad–the biggest Wilco fan I know–wanted to shake Mr. Bennett’s hand, so as we were leaving, we approached the table where he was having a post-show beer and talking with some friends.  Brad introduced himself and said that he’d enjoyed the show and really respected him, and Mr. Bennett shook his hand and quietly but genuinely thanked him.  Mr. Bennett then looked up at me and asked my name.  I told him, and he took my hand and looked into my eyes and said, “Holly, I’m really, really glad you came tonight.”  I remember specifically the two “really”s.

Maybe he was a jerk.  Maybe, like the rest of us, he just had some jerkish moments.  The man I briefly met that night, though, was a little weary, but very kind and still anticipating better things to come.  I had hoped for such for him.  The music world is a little poorer today with the loss of someone it barely knew.

I couldn’t find a good video of his doing my favorite of his vocals, “My Darling,” but here’s a face-ripping performance of “Kingpin” from almost exactly 10 years ago.  Jay is the stringy-haired guitarist on the left in the long-sleeved plum-colored tee-shirt.  

Awwwww, man.  Amazing stuff.  What a sucktastic loss.  

Ruminating on retreating.

It was, indeed, a blessing of a weekend.  

I’ve been moving in this direction for a while, but this weekend (and, now, the unofficial start of summer) has helped me shed some weight I’ve been carrying for too long.  I didn’t have some light-on-the-road-to-Damascus moment or anything–kind of the opposite.  It was rainy and nasty.  It was quiet for the most part.  But time spent with people I love and respect, discussing the important things and/or just hanging out…it was exactly what I needed.  I appreciate those people more than they know.

Then, as I was leaving last night, I tried to finally turn in my check for the weekend to Jeremy, the organizer.  He said, “no, you’re good.”  I didn’t understand for a second and stood there dumbly, stammering, “wha…?  No, this is my money that I haven’t given you yet…”  He replied, “someone paid for yours.”  He wouldn’t tell me who.  I got a little teary and walked away.  

Thanks to whoever did that.  You have no idea just how much that helped me.  Financially, of course, since I’m unemployed.  But also…I’ve had a pretty rough go of it, spiritually, in recent times.  I’ve been very cynical about “church people.”  But it was one of those “church people” who gave me the gift of this weekend and didn’t even want anyone to know about it.  I am humbled and grateful.

But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing,so that your giving may be in secret.  And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.  ~Matthew 6:3-5

Retreating.

No, really, I’m going on a retreat this weekend.  It’s with a group from a church I used to attend.  It’s odd, because I learned the hard way that being a member there myself wouldn’t be my best choice.  But, as far as church friends go, that congregation has been my only source since moving to Nashville the first time in 2006.  I need church friends, and I need to get some things back on track in that area.

As I was telling a friend, I’m more of a retreater from retreats.  The thought of being sequestered away on a campground with a large group of people–any people–is kind of terrifying.  Something tells me I need this, though.  I need some reminders of some important things, and I need to put away the anxiety of being unemployed for a couple of days, and I need to close out this school year and begin this summer with some perspective.  I’m hoping for all of that.

See you early next week.  Be careful out there.

Feel-weird Friday: Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, “You Wreck Me.”

Chiming in a little late, and not even offering an explanation, here you go:

Today was my last day at my school.  I’m officially unemployed.  Absurdly, I was really sad to leave.

After work, I got some weird, weird, unsettling, insult-to-injury, don’t-know-what-to-do-with-it-except-suck-it-up-like-I-have-for-months news.  The ironies of my life continue to pile up, the trust I have in people continues to plummet, and yet, my heart somehow…I don’t want to say “goes on,” as Celine Dion is not what I really wanted to evoke there, but I don’t know what else to say.

I do not regret the decisions I have made.  I don’t even necessarily regret hoping for what seems hopeless.  I’ve thought that being naive was better than being jaded.  I have hoped that silence meant growth and reverie and–again–hope.  Turns out silence is just silence.  Turns out, I really am the Fool.  If I could somehow really and truly accept that and just give up, everyone would probably be better off.  I don’t know how, but I kind of wish life would stop smacking me in the face with it.

So, uh, yeah–have a great weekend!  Yeesh.  Sorry.

Wordless Wednesday: these guys are my boyfriends.

A navel-gazing-palooza of my own.

Every once in a while, ‘Coma gives us a few little bon mots to make us smile/think/laugh/love her even more.  I have actually been avoiding blogging (along with being busy with end-of-school-year stuff) because I am so navel-gazy lately. 

Also, I think my pseudo-swine-flu has come back.  Thus, I’ve been lethargic and had, ahem, a few moments of distorted perspective.  Or something like that.

All that to say:  I’m gonna make a list, too, loosely based upon the content of Newscoma’s.  Only not as groovy, obviously.

Things you may or may not know about yours truly:

1. I do not chew gum because it gives me a sore throat.
2. I’m undecided about the souls of animals.  It’s not at all out of the realm of possibility, in my reality, that my little Sasha is waiting for me and that Dorian will be accompanying me to the other side.
3. I do not like the word “subordinate.”  It sounds like something meeting a squishy death.  (My favorite words, though, are “ethereal” and “vagabond.”)
4. I have never dated a stripper.  At least not that I know of.  I once dated an accordion player.
5.  ’Coma sent me the FB message about being thankful for what you have.  Coincidentally, my mom sent me a beautiful email yesterday with a list of ways she’d like to change her thinking.  On top of the list was “always put God first.”  She offered many other wise words, but that’s the one I need to think more about and I think the other stuff will fall into place.
6. I will not be meeting anyone famous or infamous anytime soon, or at least I’m not planning to.  I’m still waiting to cross paths with Jack White.  Only, then I’ll faint and/or scream and/or cry and/or end up comatose.
7. I had my chi’ren write an essay for their last little mini-unit based upon the “This I Believe” series.  I’m only able to grade a few at a time because the things they have grown to believe…well, no one should have to learn those lessons.  At least not until a LOT later in life.
8. I think all grown-ups, regardless of the status of their parents, feel like orphans in some ways.  So do college students, high school kids, and about-to-be-30-year-olds who aren’t sure where they belong.  I don’t believe we’re ever truly orphaned, but life gives us situations where we have to look harder for guidance and comfort sometimes.
9. I make LOTS of mistakes.  This was driven home in a professional way last week when some students asked me what adjectives were.  That was when I knew I probably should cut my losses and call this year a wash.
10. I miss NiT, MCB, and how things used to be.  Even with the exact same people and the exact same forum, though, I’m not sure we could get it back.  The Nashville blogosphere provided an amazing starting point for me in this arbitrary endeaver known as my blog.  What’s even more amazing and great, though, is that I now have real, live friends because of it.  I can picture facial expressions and hear voices instead of just reading the words of my favorite bloggers.  So that, most definitely, is NOT a wash.
11. I have never watched Christian Grantham’s morning Internet show, but I still think he’s pretty great.  He has been a true supporting voice for our local franchise of Web 2.0.
12. My iPod is probably 25% Bob Dylan and Ryan Adams.   That’s some pretty good odds.
13. I changed my template a few days ago.  Then changed it again a day or two after that.  The Helvetica thing kind of threw me off for a bit. 
14. My first grown up love was the aforementioned accordion player.  I guess it was love.  He didn’t love me back.  He loved Russia and her women.  That’s where he spent two of the five months of our relationship.  I kind of wished he’d dumped me before he left, as I poured a LOT of energy, heart, soul, and wordy desperation into our mostly one-sided email correspondence.
15. I still don’t whistle or swim very well.