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I’m up to the religion and politics prompts in the 30 days of truth and it’s kind of appropriate since Christmas is upon us. (This is pretty rambly.)

I was raised Catholic. I went to Catholic school through 8th grade and considered myself Catholic until some time in my early twenties.

Now, I’m…well, now I’m just me. I’m agnostic. I’m not ready to call myself an atheist because I do believe that there’s something big that connects everyone and everything in the universe. But I don’t think that it’s anything that anyone would call God. It’s just existence and energy and the universe and everything. I think I used to find the idea of everything being chaotic and random scary, and the idea of a plan and God therefore comforting, but I don’t feel that way anymore. If there’s no God and no plan, then I am here, looking at the stars, by some beautiful accident. That is miraculous. It’s possible that there are no answers and I find that kind of wonderful.

I don’t really care what other people believe and would never support suppression of people’s preferred answers to life. But I find nearly all religions to be…woefully inadequate and silly and I don’t think I’m a bad person for saying so. Someone’s beliefs aren’t suddenly immune to criticism. I won’t tiptoe around someone’s thoughts just because they’re resolute.

Because I feel that I know the most about the Catholic/Christian experience, I feel comfortable saying that that whole scene is pretty screwed up. And in my experience the vast majority of its most vocal practitioners have no idea what they’re talking about and aren’t very good Christians or very good people.

We’re not raising the baby within any kind of religion because we feel very strongly that religion is not something that is inherited, but that it is simply an option when you’re looking for answers in life. I can’t experience the baby’s challenges in life for him so I can’t require that he look to the same kind of comfort that me and however many other members did. We talk about our worries and our fears and our questions all the time. If he wants to explore religion, we will. I think that’s fair.

As for politics, I’m a registered Democrat. I’m far more liberal than that, though, and wouldn’t dodge accusations of being a socialist. But right now I’m kind of done with all of it. I just haven’t seen any evidence that anyone who holds an elected position knows or understands that actual people are affected by their work. A few months ago, I took a “news break” because I was getting extremely upset to the point of not being able to function at the antics of politicians and businesses, especially surrounding the health care reform. I realize that I can do something like that because I am privileged and don’t have to actually live the news that I’m ignoring, but I really couldn’t take it anymore.

I feel that discourse has disintegrated into each side trying to prove how stupid the other side is, like this is some kind of game that can be won. The goal is no longer making America better for its citizens, but to make it as fertile for huge businesses as possible. We do not live in a society. We live in an economy. Maybe it’s always been that way. That doesn’t make it a good or worthwhile thing.

Day 1 Something you hate about yourself.
Day 2 Something you love about yourself.
Day 3 Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 4 Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 5 Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 6 Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 7 Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 8 Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 9 Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself

I spent most of yesterday on the couch, tooling around on the internet and watching TV, which is what you’re supposed to do when you’re sick. I think the giddiness that I experience at the prospect of being able to partake in such activities without a smidgen of guilt is what jump-starts the recovery process.

I watched things that wouldn’t cause me any grief if I were to fall asleep during them. Daytime TV is made for that sort of thing, but that’s also what makes it kind of enthralling, leaving me napless. First was The Family Stone, the plot of which captured about 3% of my attention. The rest of them time I spent thinking, “God, I LOVE that house.”

Then I watched a particularly absurd episode of MTV’s True Life, which was about young psychics. One young woman was having trouble in her relationship with a guy whose name I believe was Squash because he didn’t believe in her abilities. There was also the not insignificant issue of her Christianity and her psychic gifts were not in line with the Bible. Squash went to Chattanooga to buy guns and then they broke up over the phone. She started dating a guy she met at a psychic expo and made out on camera, but then broke up two weeks later. (Insert joke here about why she didn’t see that coming.)

There’s a soap opera channel and they were showing an episode from the first season of Beverly Hills 90210. I realize now that the only reason that I ever liked that show was because I was 12 and a moron. I wanted to smack Brenda so badly and Jason Priestley does nothing but furrow his eyebrows the whole time.

At some point in all of this, I saw a commercial for Rent-a-Center starring Troy Aikman and Hulk Hogan. The, um, plot was that Troy talks up the great deals at Rent-a-Center for a few seconds and then Hulk Hogan wanders into the frame wearing an elf costume. He then utters the words, “I have an elf wedgie.” And that’s it. That’s their commercial. That’s how a company chose to sell themselves. I have an elf wedgie. If viewing this commercial caused you to consider patronizing a Rent-a-Center, please drop a bag of hammers on your foot.

Later on that night, the husband and I ended up watching Spies Like Us, which is way more hilarious than I remember. We were cracking up over the training sequence, particularly the Radical Vertical Impact Simulation exercise.

We then ceased being able to breathe when the husband read the comments for this video. Someone actually formed this thought and then typed it:

They watched the explosions, the bog of pig shit with machine gunfire, flamethrowers, g-force exercise, and an airplane smashing into the ground, and THAT was the detail that gave them trouble.

I’m taking this week off of 30 days of truth because the topics that I would tackle this week, my views on religion, politics, drugs, and alcohol, are way too long-winded to crank out during a lunch break blog post. Next time!

Way back in 2000, just a few weeks after the husband became the boyfriend, I came down with a really disgusting stomach virus. It was a total disaster because as poorly as I handle vomitous situations now, I was way worse back then. I wouldn’t calm down about what was happening and kept trying to find what I considered, in my no doubt delirious brain, the most appropriate receptacle for my stomach contents. Because I was sick and weak, I never made it to any of the arbitrary destinations I had in mind, and ended up throwing up all over the goddamn place. It was pathetic. I’m pretty sure that I begged to be taken to the hospital mid-heave on the dining room floor.

My mom had to come and help mitigate the situation, but the husband stayed right by my side the whole time as I ran from room to room, ruining carpets, and slept on the couch with me while I watched The Outsiders and clutched a bucket.

Ten years later, almost to the day probably, in some weird, messed up cycle, I came down with another bug. It wasn’t quite as intense as the original version and I’m slightly less of a baby about the whole thing. But…ugh.

I was fine yesterday, but in the car on the way home, my stomach felt a little uneasy and I suddenly became very sensitive to smells. “I smell burnt plastic,” I snarled, but no one else did.

When we got home, I headed to the kitchen to make dinner, but spun around and told the husband and the baby that they should dip into their soup reserves because I wasn’t feeling good and didn’t want to make anything. Then I headed upstairs because I needed to go to the bathroom.

I sat there, slightly concerned, but figuring/hoping that going to the bathroom would take that away. But then I started sweating out of nowhere and thought, “That…generally doesn’t happen.” And, of course, the baby was talking to me about…something through the door until I had to tell him to please stop because I was physically unable to talk anymore.

I stood up, flushed, and tried to evaluate the situation. “Yeah, I think maybe it’s going to happen. It’s okay. You can do this. Try not to think about what you ate for lunch today and how that will look in reverse. You don’t know how long you have at this point. Best to get ready. Take off your sweater. Secure your hair. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be–HHUUUUUUGHGHHGHHUUUAAAAAAAAHGHGHGGHHHH.”

The baby had still been talking until he heard the unmistakable noises of hurling. As soon as there was a break in the (very graphic…believe me I am sparing you SO MUCH detail) action, he sweetly called out, “Mum? Are you okay?”

“Bleh. Cough. No.”

Once everything had calmed down and I had cleaned up the bathroom, I shuffled into my room and changed into pajamas.

And so it continued for the next few hours, though thankfully not as dramatic as the initial episode. The husband and baby kept their distance, but brought me Saltines and ginger ale and the baby made me the sweetest get well card which he ended with, “P.S. Don’t throw up on this leter.”

It was much like this, but without the drinking and the shame:

So that short guy that I write about from time to time? The fruit of my womb? This one?

He’s NINE today. NINE YEARS OLD. And he’s all:

By the way, we didn’t spray-paint his friends’ faces in real life. Just protecting their privacy and whatnot.

Like last year, we had a roller skating party. It turned out to be a pretty great day. We stopped in Polish Hill to pick up one of his friends and then swooped through Lawrenceville to pick up one of our friends who was going to be attending the party. On our way to Lawrenceville, the husband said, “Hey, look. Beetlejuice. Driving.” What? We looked in the direction of his pointed finger and saw an old burgundy minivan and, no shit, this guy at the wheel:

Not Michael Keaton circa 1988…at least I don’t think it was him. But a guy dressed up as Beetlejuice. The costume was amazing and the makeup was incredibly detailed. We just, uh, weren’t expecting that. As Beetlejuice drove past us, he saw our stunned expressions and grinned. It was really bizarre.

After we had picked up our friend, we shifted seating so that he and the husband were sitting up front and then in the back it was me, the baby’s friend, and the baby. About halfway through our drive to the roller rink, the baby’s friend said, “You know, I get carsick a lot.” To which I replied:

But we made it to our destination without incident.

Once we got there, and my grandparents showed up, the party quickly reached Animal House levels of mayhem.

It was a small group, but the kids had fun. And nobody broke anything so I pretty much my crossed off my entire list of goals for the day. Our other major coup was bringing a CD that we burned of songs that the baby likes. He has some current mainstream favorites, ie, Rihanna, T.I., but a lot of what he wanted to hear was Kraftwerk, Common, Black Sheep, and A Tribe Called Quest. The DJ put the CD in and pretty much just let it play, which was cool with us but the other kids who came to skate in a circle to “Party in the U.S.A.” for the 500th time in a row were close to revolting. Around the time that “Trans Europe Express” came on, I looked over and saw a gaggle of tweens shaking their fists at the DJ booth. Fortunately, the CD started skipping so the DJ switched to Ke$ha. Yay.

We’re going out to dinner tonight with my mom to celebrate. In the meantime, I’m doing that “Nine years ago at this time, I was…” thing. As much as I can, anyway. I spent most of the day in a post-C-section morphine cloud probably saying stuff like, “What baby?”

(Psst! Today’s the last day to enter my 77kids giveaway!)

The instructions for this post say to write a letter to this band or artist but I’m not going to. Here’s some more truth for you: I hate the open letter format. Hate. It.

Anyway, at different points in life, I’ve found different music comforting. Back when I was a teenager, I really liked Janis Joplin and R.E.M. A few years later, I always turned to Nina Simone and Radiohead. These are all still in my arsenal, but for the past several months, the artist that has been helping me a lot is Andres. He’s a hip hop producer from Detroit via L.A. and his most recent album, Andres II, has been a favorite of mine since it came out.

Andres II isn’t strictly hip hop. The only way I can really describe it is roller skating music. Fast, but not too fast, funky, soulful, and the perfect inspiration for going faster, further, staying in the flow even if you’ve taken a nasty spill.

When we were in Detroit a few months ago, our CD of Andres II didn’t leave the player in the car because it was an absolutely perfect soundtrack. And one night we were driving fast down one of those big, wide streets downtown where everyone cruises with their insanely cool cars. It had been a brutally hot day and the night brought such relief. This song was playing as the Detroit wind blew through my hair. And for a few minutes, I was really, really happy. Since then, whenever I hear this song, I think of that moment and smile.

Day 1 Something you hate about yourself.
Day 2 Something you love about yourself.
Day 3 Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 4 Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 5 Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 6 Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 7 Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 8 Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 9 Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself

“Alright, buddy, go upstairs and get dressed. We need to get going.”

Ten minutes pass while I make sure that lunch and piano books are packed. I head upstairs and foolishly expect to see the baby in some advanced stage of dressing, at the very least wearing pants.

Instead, he is crouched on the floor in his pajamas, reading a book.

“What are you doing?!!?!” I hiss. “We need to GO!”

“I couldn’t find any pants.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake…”

I rustle some clean clothes together and toss them in his room, explaining again that we need to leave in just a few minutes. I start getting dressed myself and poke my head into his room because I sense something off. Something procrastinating. He’s wearing pants, but no shirt, and is playing with some magnets.

“Dude. Seriously. Come on.”

“Oh, FINE!” he sighs, as though going to school is some inconvenient favor I’ve just asked of him.

Downstairs, he has not put on his shoes like I told him to, but is looking for the gloves that he threw somewhere in the house when we got home last night.

I finally get him out the door and hustle him to the bus stop, explaining along the way that he has to go to school so there’s no point resisting and when he goofs off in the morning we risk missing the bus, which would screw up everyone’s day.

“Understand?” I ask/demand.

“Yessssss,” he moans.

We stand and wait for the bus. He breaks the silence by innocently asking me, “Can you take heavy blows to the head?”

In non-bludgeoning news, my dad’s birthday was on Sunday and we had him over for dinner and cake. He brought Champagne. He’s my favorite father.

He’s getting ready to blow out the candles in that picture. He’s not overly excited about or terrified by the cake that I made despite how it might look.

By the way, that cake is this Chocolate Overdose Cake, which is some Serious Business.

Brownie, mousse, cake, ganache. Ya heard?

I’ve had two mostly low-key weekends in a row, which means I’m due for another whirlwind. Tonight we’re trying to go see the new Harry Potter movie. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be hanging out with some other blog types at 77kids to check out their holiday displays and to learn more about their charity initiatives. At some point, I need to bake some cookies because later in the day, I’m going to hitch a ride with Allison to Michelle‘s house for a cookie swap. Then I will ponder who I am, doing all of these nice, wholesome things. Sunday, my mom and I are supposed to do some hardcore cleaning at my house. I may have to drink throughout that process.

Unfortunately, I knew exactly who I was going to write about for this one as soon as I saw it.

I met Stacey in 1993 when she started at Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre School. She was a level and a grade ahead of me. We didn’t really get to know each other until that following summer which was when we found out that we were a lot alike. We both had red hair and extremely fair skin. We were both quiet. Neither of us was very enmeshed in a group of people at either ballet or school. We had similar senses of humor and similar interests outside of ballet.

During the two years that we were together at PBTS, we became very close and remained in touch when she moved to Richmond, VA to dance with the Richmond Ballet. A year later, I followed her down there and it was a given that we would be roommates.

We had some trying times as roommates…common annoyances like whose turn it was to do dishes or that time I accidentally got the phone turned off would have us sniping at each other. But we knew we were each other’s support. We laughed and cried together and spent many of our weekends chain smoking and “feasting” on bowls of sugar-free Jell-O or pretzels.

After I moved back to Pittsburgh, we kept in touch. When Stacey’s dance career ended from a persistent foot injury, she moved back, too. We became even tighter and when I got pregnant with the baby, she was one of the first people I told. I wanted her there when he was born. She showed up right after they had whisked me back to the operating room. I still thank the gods that she was there, as she was the only person with the presence of mind to grab my camera and take some pictures of that crazy morning.

Seriously, I could never thank her enough for capturing these moments. You see, I was over in my hospital bed talking to the pink elephants that were dancing around.

Durrrrr

Some years later, when the boyfriend was poised to become the husband, Stacey was the obvious choice to be my maid of honor.

We were still close, but by that time our interests and values had started to diverge a little. To be honest, I looked down on her new passions for motorcycles and guns. But I loved that she was standing behind me on my wedding day. I loved that we had been friends for so long. I loved her.

A few months later, I started working on my Master’s degree and became completely obsessed with this new version of my life, in which I was busy and working all the time and was sacrificing so much and nobody really knew or appreciated how hard it was. Stacey would try to make plans with me and I would decline or cancel and eventually stopped returning her calls. I was incredibly busy, too busy to even talk to her on the phone. Surely she knew that.

By the time our first wedding anniversary had rolled around, we hadn’t talked in months. I felt bad, but figured I would get back in touch with her soon enough. Another year or so went by, our only communication being Christmas cards. Last year, feeling incredibly shitty for how I had just dropped her, I wrote a note in the Christmas card that I sent her. “I miss you, Stacey. Can we reconnect soon?” I didn’t want to be too pushy after not communicating in so long.

I was stunned when the card came back with a bright yellow postal service label that robotically informed me that Stacey, one of my oldest friends, was no longer at that address and that the forwarding service to her new home in Montana had expired.

MONTANA?!?!?!

I deliberated over what to do and considered contacting her parents, who I hoped were still in Pittsburgh, for her new address. Before I could take any action, Stacey appeared on Facebook. I immediately sent her a sheepish message, telling her how sorry I was for being such a terrible, selfish friend and for being so careless with our friendship. Stacey kindly replied that it was fine, that she felt like she was getting in my way and just quietly bowed out of my life.

Her words stung, but only because they were true. In my foolish quest to be more important, to prove to myself that I was not a failure, I had utterly neglected her and she was too good of a person to call me on it, she just did what I wanted her to do.

I didn’t push for more interaction. I didn’t feel that it was my place anymore. I no longer had any right to influence how she felt about me.

A few months ago, a mutual Facebook friend tagged Stacey in a picture. I wouldn’t have noticed it if it hadn’t shown up on my news feed when I happened to be looking at it. The picture was of Stacey, dancing with her father…in her wedding dress.

I was crushed. I wasn’t mad at her. I had no business being there. But I had failed her in that I couldn’t reciprocate the favor of standing and supporting her on her wedding day, vowing to be part of the network that made her marriage work like she had done for me.

I thought about writing to her to tell her all of this, but more photos appeared. She was beaming, beautiful, happy. She was fine without me and without my apologies.

I know that relationships, even the ones that seem the most likely to last forever, can just end. People grow apart, they no longer fill the roles in each others’ lives that they used to. At best it’s a chasm that quietly grows. At worst, lives are ripped apart. But it’s one of the few things in life that we can look at and see as being meant to be, whether we like it or not.

I still love Stacey and cherish the years that we had together. I will forever regret that I was the one responsible for undoing our friendship. Maybe someday we can try again.

Day 01 Something you hate about yourself.
Day 02 Something you love about yourself.
Day 03 Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 08 Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 09 Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself

Hmm…I’m having a hard time with this one. I think I’ve been pretty fortunate to have mostly good people in my life. And the ones that weren’t so good…we’ve either worked through it because we had to or they’re not in my life anymore.

When my parents were together and extremely unhappy, that made my life hellish. I remember sitting on my bedroom floor when a friend of mine was over one day. We were playing Barbies and I was trying to ignore the extremely loud argument that my parents were having downstairs. I was so embarrassed. I finally looked up at my friend and said, “I’m sorry my parents are yelling.” She looked back at me and said, “It’s okay. My parents used to do that all the time.” Having what is supposed to be the foundation of your family so plainly, obviously broken is/was embarrassing, even though it’s the case for so many of us. They finally called it quits some years after that, and it’s been slowly getting better.

I had some not so nice kids in the schools that I went to, particularly in middle school, and the teachers that should have done something, didn’t. They even seemed to delight in the fact that me and other targets were learning lessons about functioning in society. They didn’t have to protect me. They didn’t have to enforce any anti-bullying rules. They didn’t have to teach those kids to be nicer. But they should have pointed out ridiculous behavior when it was apparent. And they didn’t. I’ve forgiven them, both the kids and the teachers, because people that supremely shitty have my pity. And since they’re all so super Catholic and holier than thou, they’re probably going to hell, anyway. So me possibly being mad at them is the least of their worries, am I right? So, even though I was disappointed to find out that my kid had acted as a bully, it was very encouraging to know that that behavior is being reported, taken seriously, and acted upon. There’s no “life lesson” in withstanding abuse, aside from, “People will unnecessarily hurt you and you will have no refuge.” And that’s just not true.

I, of course, had one boyfriend who didn’t treat me very nice at all. He had so many messed up views on relationships that he let guide his actions with me. He never let his feelings for me lead him, feelings which, he told me after I’d already ended things, ran very deep. From what I understand, he hasn’t changed and perhaps he thinks he’s happy keeping people at a distance, only to be heartbroken when they finally detach. I wish him luck with that. I’m over it.

But just as I’ve made my life worth living, I’ve also made my life hell. When I don’t allow myself to think of myself as a good person or as someone worthy of love, those are my darkest days.

Day 01 Something you hate about yourself.
Day 02 Something you love about yourself.
Day 03 Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 08 Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 09 Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself

It occurs to me that a lot of stuff happened in October that I didn’t write about here. Nothing life-altering, but events that would normally go here if I had time to write about them. I was frustrated by my lack of down time, but it’s good in a way that I wasn’t able to document anything. I was too busy living.

So, back at the beginning of the month, Frank got married. I didn’t take any pictures of that, but I did take a grand total of two at the rehearsal dinner.

There’s the bride and groom, a large centerpiece, and the best man. I believe I took this during the father of the bride’s “toast,” which was more of an undulating monologue about his job and his recent birthday and I think snails or something. After meeting Andrea’s dad, the picture that she had shown me of him in which he had fallen asleep while repairing the kitchen sink suddenly made perfect sense.

The next weekend, my cousin Jeffrey got married. The ceremony was at Heinz Chapel on the University of Pittsburgh campus.

Yes, I’m wearing the same dress that I wore to Frank’s wedding. It’s my new October Wedding Uniform.

I had never been inside Heinz Chapel before. It is indeed gorgeous. But I found that my attention span during Catholic masses is approximately the same as it was when I was six. I kept staring at the stained-glass windows and going, “Mom, look. Look. Look at those stairs! Mooooommm!” And then Jeffrey and Kristy were married.

Newton’s like, “Tsk! Stupid apple done messed up my coiffure!”

Their reception was in the Carnegie Museum Music Hall, which is also insanely gorgeous.

Carnegie may have been kind of a jerk, but he had awesome taste.

The next day, we celebrated my mom and grandfather’s birthdays.

My kid is so sweet.

The weekend after that, our friends Jwan and Karen got married.

It was a really nice time. Our group of friends doesn’t have a chance to get together that much anymore and the wedding was really casual so we spent most of the evening talking, drinking, and dancing. Afterward, we went to Jwan and Karen’s house were things got progressively sloppy.

That’s Jwan’s brother on the right, who is a very nice guy, but also very blunt. Late in the evening, he sat down next to me and explained that he could tell I was, “kind of insane.”

Tiny dogs attacked the husband and not long after this, said husband had some, er, digestive issues and we had to leave abruptly, though our buddy Alison protested vehemently. The sister-in-law and her boyfriend had to chase our car down the street. It was all very goofy.

Then there was another weekend, and I know we had some kind of social obligation but I can’t remember what it was at all. We also went roller skating. And I think this was the weekend that we made our annual trip to Trax Farms. I forgot to bring my camera so I don’t have any adorable pictures of my kid frolicking in a pile of pumpkins. I’m pretty sure that means my mommyblogger membership is revoked. However, Michelle was there at the same time and she took pictures of her cute kid. So I’ll just piggyback on to her post and say, “Yeah, us too. Also: petting goats.” I also forgot cash so we couldn’t buy a cup of feed to give to the animals in the petting zoo. We kicked it old school and just petted (is that the proper conjugation?) the animals. I want an alpaca. Aside, goats’ eyes, or their pupils anyway, are rectangular.

This kept freaking me out because goats and their rectangular eyes would silently appear beside me and, in the absence of the feed cup, would start gnawing on my hoodie or my purse or my hair. Surreal.

Then came last weekend. Saturday was the Halloween parade in our neighborhood. The baby’s costume was inspired by the hopping vampires in this old, Chinese vampire movie called Mr. Vampire.

Obscure interests much?

When the husband and the baby were in New York this summer, they visited Chinatown and found various elements of the baby’s costume. We basically just had to take care of some makeup and the little prayer sheets.

It turned out pretty good, though nobody knew what he was and…well, I’ll come back to that in a sec.

The other big thing that happened this past weekend was that I turned 32 on Sunday. We celebrated at my mom’s house Saturday night.

I got some really nice stuff from Anthropologie (swoon!).

And there was cake and champagne and then my dad made the most absurd argument about how people can’t truly enjoy sports if they haven’t played them because they don’t appreciate how hard they are and for some reason this leads my dad to dismiss the entire Pittsburgh Penguins’ fan base (but no other sport) because he believes none of them/us have played hockey. Does your brain hurt after reading that? Yeah, imagine hearing it live. I pointed out that I’ve never practiced medicine but I appreciate it any time a doctor, like, gives me an emergency C-section to save the life of me and my child.

Sunday morning at 8:30 am (ugh) the baby had his last soccer game of the year. His team has had a rough season, winning only two games. It was a tough lesson for them, understanding that if you don’t try (which they often weren’t) you don’t get the results that you want. However, they were awesome during their last game, and even though they still lost, they looked pretty bad ass.

Their coaches gave them all trophies for their hard work. And though they were disappointed that they lost, I was secretly pretty glad that we were done for the year.

Sunday night was trick-or-treating. Now, we didn’t expect anyone to know what his costume was and I was really apprehensive about the assumptions that people would make. A lot of people responded simply, “Oh. Okay!” when he told them he was a Chinese, hopping vampire. But plenty of other people took a guess and said…sigh…”Chinaman.”

I know people get all irritated about political correctness, which is stupid because political correctness is just an admittedly poor term for a good thing: treating people with a equal amount of respect and not calling them things that they don’t wish to be called. There’s no legislation, there’s no censorship, it’s simply, “Hey, could you do me a solid and not be a douche and refer to my ethnicity/sexuality/religious/etc group as…?”

So, really, if you weren’t sure, “Chinaman” is not okay to say anymore. So stop.

Anyway, trick-or-treating went well. We had a perfect fall night and we’ve all been gorging on candy ever since.

And that was October. The end.

The obvious answer here again is the baby. In a post that I wrote last year, I described the first time that I saw him thusly:

When I first saw him, it was like everything slowed to a complete stop for just an instant, but an instant that seemed to stretch on forever. Everything that I understood about life and time and love ended. And when the earth started spinning again a few milliseconds later it was in a new direction or had switched tracks. Even in the next few weeks, when things got really dark inside my head, that feeling was my touchstone.

I’m not going to act like I always have my priorities straight or that my perspective on life is always aligned correctly. But that moment has never dulled in my memory as the beginning of the life that I was meant to live. So whenever I’m stressing over something that I know really isn’t as life-or-death as I’m making it out to be, I call that moment to mind and things get a little bit clearer.

The husband also qualifies for this, but I’ll save most of that gush for a post that I’m working on for our anniversary. (Hint: get your barf bags ready because it’s going to make you sick. Plus, he’ll probably divorce me for posting something so Hallmark.)

But another obvious person who made my life worth living is me. I can get pretty down on myself, but every once in awhile, I recognize something good that I’ve done and I admit to myself that I’m a pretty decent person and perhaps the world is, in fact, a little bit cooler with me in it.

Day 01 Something you hate about yourself.
Day 02 Something you love about yourself.
Day 03 Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 08 Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 09 Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself