turning around to see - ending up in a dance

**WARNING** There is quite possibly writing in here that could trigger someone into doing self-destructive things. If you are not in a good place mentally and this is an issue for you, please don't read it right now. It'll still be here later. I'm not trying to heal myself by triggering others or giving other people ideas for self-harm shit. It's a horrible, painful addiction and I will be quite terribly upset if I learn that my words have caused someone else any hurt.**

"Baby, when I call for you, I want you to come

And lay it out for everyone

Exactly how it was before any of this happened

And why I can't leave it behind"

-- Conor Oberst, "A New Arrangement"

I moved recently. It was probably 3 weeks ago that I began discussing my current situation and I guess about 2 weeks ago that I actually moved in. There were 5 days in there where I was not here, but up in Fargo with my family paying my respects to Grandma Quick's life and seeing her burial in tiny and all-but-barren Starkweather, North Dakota. Other than those 5 days away, I have been fully immersed in learning the ropes around this house, unpacking and rediscovering treasures from my storage unit, and adjusting to life in the countryside.

It just now occurred to me that it's been a lot longer than the 10 months of storage that I've not seen a few of my tangible memories. In the years prior to leaving Jason, now a little over 10 months ago (holy crap!), I didn't delve into many of these items. I left books on shelves and music in cases for many years without acknowledgement. Some of these things were untouched for so long because I was trying to let go, stop dwelling on painful subjects, and heal. I also left many items unexplored while I was falling in and out of love with my husband, which took probably 3 years. Half of me didn't want to focus on anything but my relationship with him and half of me wasn't allowed to retain memorabilia from my shrapnel-filled past without extreme measures taken to induce guilt, fan my self-hatred, and block any possible fond memories of Life Before Jason.

I no longer have most of my photos from any previous romantic relationships (except for a few copies my parents still had -- like formals from high school. He hated those photos.), I got rid of several CDs and tapes of and from ex-entanglements that I now crave (the music, not the entanglements), and I no longer have any paintings, drawings or sculptures made of me or for me by any male that I've ever kissed. That's sad to me. I've kissed some talented men and probably the only common thread amongst them is how their creativity moved me in some manner. Those tugboats of emotion are now gone. Sad!

I managed to escape my marriage before my journals were censored by a big fat marker or fire pit. Such heretical acts were on the docket to take place any minute for almost a year. I put up with a TON of shit as a result of "procrastinating" on this request, but it was worth every insult and mind-fuck and argument and sneer and threat that came at my stubborn resistance to erase all proof that I had a life prior to meeting the man I married. It was worth it, but I'll never put up with THAT shit again.

Gyah -- that really sucked.

The quote from Conor at the beginning of this post is from the song "A New Arrangement" on "Every Day and Every Night" by Bright Eyes. It recalls nights spent alone in my Powderhorn Park apartment when I lived in Minneapolis and driving to and from my job at the Heart Association, the last full-time job that I held, over my lunch hours when I needed to hurt out loud. I only went home over lunch if I wanted to cut my forearms or play with my unlit fire swings in my living room. Jeff Buckley was great for doing both, but mostly dancing with my swings. I learned that a few minutes of getting my heart to speed up with oscillating arms increased the blood flow and somehow made my purging of pain in the form of blood just that much more effective. Conor's music was always good for urging on the anguish, pushing me past a point of resistance until I felt real. Alive. Involved in someone else's pain instead of the crushing solitude of my own.

Hearing this particular music again ----- I'm looking forward to a summer filled with writing. Maybe not on this blog so much, but for my memoir. To finish the healing process and give legitimacy and create proof beyond my scars that I have been to Hell and I made it out. Turns out it shares the same physical space as Heaven, as well as Mediocrity, and our experiences within this life are entirely determined by how we see the world both inside and outside of ourselves. I used to hear those four lines:

"Baby, when I call for you, I want you to come

And lay it out for everyone

Exactly how it was before any of this happened

And why I can't leave it behind"

and in my mind I was singing about "how it was before any of this happened" meaning how life was before my mental illness hijacked my brain and "why I can't leave it behind" because I was trapped, completely engulfed in hot blistered soul sores.

Tonight I heard these four line and in my mind, "any of this" was now my current living situation -- the serendipitous events and souls who have changed my world for the better -- and I now can't leave "it" (my years of living hell) behind because I meant it when I vowed to do what I could to help anyone else who suffers like I have, and I think that if I can somehow explain what it was like and what I did to find my happiness - I think it could possibly help someone. It's worth writing for that possibility alone. If anything, it'll help ME, so there's my one person. :)

So yeah. Looking forward to delving back in, from a new perspective. I hope that down the road I'm able to share the full story with all of you.

<3

~Q~

You Could Be Mine

The opening scene of the movie that is my life this very afternoon.

I went on a walk with Tyra this afternoon again. Yes, it's really cold out and yes, there was more snow on the ground. The good thing about being out in this particular weather is that you are far less likely to run into another human being whilst dancing around in an "empty" park, to music that only you are currently privy to.


The above photo was actually taken maybe 2 days ago, but I basically looked just like this again today. :) White hoodie though. 'Cause you know - I'm spicy like that with my flashy wardrobe.


Hey look - it's me again.

Ok. So back to my story. When we get to this, the most glorious part of the walk, I take Tyra off of her leash and let her have at the snow banks. She is never more happy than when she is able to sniff any piss spots unhindered by me, the leash, and my concept of "walking". We don't necessarily have the same behavioral patterns when it comes to this concept, so when we're both unhinged and able to meander near one another, things work even better for us.

It's freezing cold outside. As in 5 degrees, negative 6 degrees "Real Feel". I left the house at 4:00, so I bet it was maybe 3-4 degrees warmer, but still. By the time I left the park, I was quite aware of the feeling of my stiff jeans - the ones two sizes too big for me - touching my red frozen thighs underneath. Those of you who have experienced this pre-frostbite feeling know what I'm talking about. It's weird. I didn't even feel when my phone vibrated in my back pocket to tell me I had received a text message. That's one frozen ass. Brr.

Anyway. Since I'm quite recently obsessed with Guns 'N' Roses all over again, with the acquisition of their "Greatest Hits" album, I was of course doing the snake dance all through the park, with a less dramatic version for those parts of the walk that take us through neighborhoods and prying windows. The front half of the park is pretty much all wooded - not with the massive pines like they have up north, but the ones that host the prettiest colors each and every autumn. There are a few trails through there that I like to mosey on through. Something about the woods - maybe I was a wood fairy in a past life. :) Or Paul Bunyan.

I also quite enjoy the big ring around the open field at the other end of the park - especially where there are again trees. It just occurred to me that I really am, literally, a tree-hugger. How did I not realize this before now? Hm. Interesting.....interesting...........

But maybe not as interesting to you, so I'll try better to stay on track with this story. Tyra is following her nose from pee-spot to pee-spot, I'm listening to "Civil War" through my headphones and dancing my ass off down the powdered path. I wish I would've brought a camera. You could see my slippery dancin' footprints in the snow behind me.

As I'm singing harmony along to one of Slash's many guitar solos and alternatively pretending to be Axl Rose, complete with arm movements and swinging hips, to accompany the oh-so-rockin' vocals. Because - let's face it, people. One cannot properly rock out to Guns 'N' Roses without plenty of dramatic facial expressions, dancing, screeching, and half-whispered phrases like "patience..." or "what's so civil about war, anyway?" On a good day, I can even do the whistling. It's a bit more difficult when your face is frozen.

So there I am, completely in my own world, twirling about, singing like I was either alone in my room, or singing karaoke with my friends who are generally rocking along from their chairs. Mid-twirl, I notice there's an older gentleman on the path just ahead of me. Brown Carhartt jacket, one of those sweet grandpa hats with the ear flaps - down even - and a walking stick of some sort. He had obviously seen me before I noticed him. I wonder how long I had been amusing this guy.

I put Tyra back on her leash to pass him, and pulled one of my earphones out of my head, so I could also hear if he said anything to me. It occurred to me that in the past, I would've been quite embarrassed in a similar situation. Simultaneously, it also occurred to me that I sincerely was not. Not worried about it in the very least. I may have appeared strange to this guy who was probably nearing his 70's, but I doubt very highly that my singing and dancing was disturbing to stumble upon during a walk. I would love that, if I had run into it. Can you imagine? A world where we all wander around singing and dancing if the mood strikes? Sweet.

As I passed the man who has lived more than twice as long as I have, I made eye contact and we smiled at each other. I said "you're one of the brave ones - to be out in this". He smiled bigger and replied "you are too - one of the brave ones". Maybe it's just me, but I don't think he was talking only about the weather.

I grinned back at him and put my other headphone on just as "You Could Be Mine" came through. There was no need to pause and discuss - just two human beings, sharing a few smiles as we both continued on our respective paths. It was cool. Thought you might like that story too.

Love,

~Q~

Weekly Reader + the Usual (ramblings)

Well, well, well.

So it seems that once you sincerely figure out what it is in life that will help move you towards happiness - AND (here's the kicker) actually rely on yourself and go after that elusive state of being - holy crap kids - apparently it's real.

WaitWhat?

I know, right? How else can one explain how my entire existence got so flipped upside down and inside out in such a short period of time. For awhile, after leaving the mr., I felt guilty. Not that I did anything wrong - I didn't. I finally took care of my own well-being and it's been the best damn idea I've ever followed through with to-date. No - I felt guilty for NOT feeling guilty for leaving my husband. I was happy and grateful and beyond finished with that entire way of living. Still - I always thought divorces were so sad, and no matter how "not-quite-perfect" the relationship was, it would always be really difficult.

I've changed my mind. Getting to the point where leaving was a preferred option - that was one of the hardest things I've survived. I mean - wow. Just when I thought I'd hit bottom and things wouldn't get worse -- yep.

"Just kidding! You thought THAT sucked!?! Wait 'til we see what's behind door number 3!"

Once I had actually made up my mind that I needed to change my situation and change it FAST, it didn't suck as much as I had anticipated. It was actually quite freeing. I cut my long hair off, no longer concerned with his opinion. I reconnected with old friends. I walked through the nearest wooded park every day - particularly loving it when autumn came. I hung out with Tyra & my cats. After a few months, I started heading out again & I met the most incredible group of friends.

So ok - I'm still legally married, so I guess I can't say it was "easy" to finalize the divorce (since I haven't done that quite yet), but that's because I'm so busy creating -- music, words, memories, friendships, & the Life I actually WANT -- I forget I'm still legally bound to a man who I haven't spoken to in months. Basically, I'm just too uninterested in going through my finances to finish the paperwork and I don't have any international rendezvous planned before 2012 (hiking the Inca trail with Ro, Heather & her kids, & ????????) so I'm not in any giant hurry. The reason that travel plans even matter (just realized how random that previous idea must've seemed) is because my passport never did get changed from my maiden name to my married name, so I have to legally reclaim my Q before crossing any borders. Unless it's between counties. Or states. Or cities. Or social mores.

The point I intended to write about when I started is this: Just this past August, I was completely miserable. I was living in a tiny town in southern Minnesota, where the only person I actually knew was my husband. Throughout the previous 3-4 years, I had gone through a massive mental breakdown that landed me in the hospital more than a handful of times in maybe a year to a year and a half. I fell in love and married a man who enthralled me because his energy was even stronger than mine, and he joked that his crazy could out-crazy my crazy under the table.

Helpful Hint: When someone tells you something important like this early in a relationship - they mean it. You should actually believe that. Another one I've heard is "you should run from me right now. I forgot how cool you are and how much I don't want to hurt you, but I think I will". Good call dude. Hind sight is 20/20, it's almost true. In that case though - he freakin' TOLD me what was up and I completely overrode the warning in my gut. Oops. You mean he was serious? Hm. Who knew?

Since I've long been convinced that my eventual partner-in-crime will be either a crazy conductor or a mad scientist (perhaps somehow both?) - the crazy thing intrigued me. Not gonna lie - it still does. Something about hitting 30 though -- I don't want to be crazy my entire life and I know I'm not going to be in this life forever. Been there, done that - what's next?

So I'm writing. And some girl friends and I just recently started a band -- it's called That's What She Said and it's already clicking into place beyond expectations. And I'm riding again - with the bruises to prove it. I should take a picture of the one from Saturday, when one of the horses I teach lessons on -Buddy the paint Quarter Horse - he got a bit bored of going so slow (beginner lesson) - he reached around when I was adjusting stirrup leathers and grabbed onto my arm with his teeth. That hurt - I have this pretty black 'n' blue half-circle on my upper arm. Ok - let's see if this works.......

Yeah --------> OUCH.




It's alright though - it was completely worth it. I think back to before August 20th and how insanely different my life was then from my life now.

#1 - I'm happy. Never thought it could happen. Pleased to be wrong.

#2 - I don't have to hide any of my injuries, because they aren't frowned upon (either because they were given to me by someone who never should have laid an ill-hand on me - or self-inflicted cuts that only served as short-lived eyes in that crazy-ass hurricane of yours truly during those years).

#3 - I was GIVEN A HORSE. On the day that I met him, by some people that I had only met maybe 30 minutes earlier because he & I clicked that well. The previous owners wanted him to go somewhere where he would be just doted upon. They/he chose wisely. I certainly do that.

#4 - I was given a keyboard. A nice one. Within 30 minutes of me putting mention on facebook. I named her Eirene. I have awesome friends.

#5 - I have awesome friends.

I'm pretty sure that this post is even longer than my usual ramblings. If you've managed to read this far -- bravo. Lemme know if you'd be interested in reading my memoir when I get that one finished. It's looking to be quite interesting. At least to me. :)

Which reminds me. The ENTIRE purpose for this post, at least as I had originally thought: my great new friend, Esther Marcella, hosts this radio show on KMSU, where she interviews writers. She knows that I write, and when she found that I write this blog, she asked me to be on her show.

Sure! So I'm told it's 10 minutes of reading work of mine and 10 minutes of Q & A, and she's already asked my permission to question my reason for starting this blog in the first place. I said "most certainly and of course". Abusive relationships and mental health issues and really unhealthy ways of coping with the stress that we ALL struggle with at some level or another --- not talking about it when it's been so integral in who I am today would be remiss. I have no intention of wallowing for the rest of my life -- continuing to classify myself as a victim when I know damn well that I am just as strong, just as brilliant, and just as beautiful as you are. Yeah you. We all are strong, brilliant and beautiful. So yes - I will talk about it openly. And I will NOT be returning to re-experience that chapter in my life ever again.

Wrap it up, Ms. Minnesota-Good-bye............

Alright. Later Gators. :)

Love you all,

~Q~

Dabbling - fun to say AND fun to do! Doesn't pay too well though....

Can I just be a professional dabbler? Because I'm extremely satisfied and content and happy with basically everything that is going on in my life, but I don't get paid for almost any of it, and at this rate, I'll still be living with my poor parents when I'm 35. Maybe 40. Um....not ideal. For any of us.

It's not that I'm not productive - I'm quite active in my dabbling. You should see my planner - it looks like I actually work and have meetings and other non-interesting-type things. The only thing is - all of MY events are all interesting things I have planned for myself but only one of these weekly events pays me any money. Trust me - it's not enough to live off of.

So how do you people do it? How do you make enough money to support yourselves and not want to slit your throats from obligations and the sense that you aren't living life the way it was meant to be lived? Or is that even a problem for anyone else but me? Money is not even the slightest bit motivating for me in its own right. I have zero interest in dropping any of my hobbies, but I also can't imagine also picking up a "real job" while still being able to maintain #1 - my new-found sanity and #2 - all these awesome activities and events and interests I'm dabbling in. There are just so many hours in the day and this lady also really enjoys sleeping.

Dabble. Dabble. Dabble. That's a funny word. I like it.


Here's a sampling of what I've got various toes dipped in at the moment:

* Lyric -- my amazing, wonderfully intelligent, incredibly sensitive horse who was gifted to me maybe 6 weeks ago. He & I have been hanging out as often as possible, and the ONLY time he didn't hold it against me when I missed a day of visiting him was when I had that terrible cold for a solid week or so AND I made a point to visit him while still partially sick, so he would comprehend why I had gone AWOL for so long (meaning like 3 days in a row). Any other time I've missed even a single day, I've gotten the rump when I go to see him again and he gets stubborn about quite a few things. Like walking next to me. Or letting me hug him. Or even accepting my treats. I'm not joking - he's got SUCH a personality and the guy is maybe even more sensitive than me. Maybe. :)

* Tyra, Trinity & Maya -- I feel bad lumping them all together when Lyric got his own category, but for the sake of brevity, that's just how it shall be. The point is, the other animals that call me "mom" also need daily attention. They're more forgiving than the horse, but I feel bad when I can't spend as much time with Tyra. I've brought her to the barn a few times, which she quite enjoys, but the cold isn't too kind on her aging bones, either, and she becomes quite the 80 pound lap dog around Lyric, which would make riding quite difficult. The cats only really get pissy with me if I stay out all night, since night is when we always cuddle. They let me know when they're mad though, either by throwing up, peeing on my clothes, meowing loudly at me and weaving around my legs upon my return, or a combination of all of the above.

* Writing -- In addition to the MASS quantities of journaling I feel remiss without engaging in, there's also the memoir I'm working on. My writing group meets once a month, so that keeps me more on task, but I still have quite a bit of work to do on that bad boy. Quite a bit. Then there's this blog, which I also don't keep nearly as updated as I would like to, at least in an ideal world, where I'm not ONLY Superwoman, but also Queen Goddess of the Universe in Q-form.

* Music -- I'm pretty good at supporting all my musician friends by attending many of their performances, but even that is getting to be more difficult, with so many of my friends BEING musicians and therefore having shows at conflicting times & dates. I can only be in one place (at least physically) at once so.....it's a juggling act at times. My weekends are insanely busy. Then - the big commitment in this category is the band a few of my girlfriends and I have recently started -- That's What She Said. I have much music writing to accomplish and I want to get it all done yesterday. :) Oh then there's the cello I've been craving. I found a probable teacher in South Minneapolis, but due to a lack of funds, I have to wait until at least next month to be able to rent a cello and start learning my souls-instrument. Boo.

* Friends! -- Before leaving my husband and moving back to Kato, I sincerely believed I had no friends. What? Why? I know -- it seems insane now. I don't really even have enough time in a day to keep updated on all that is going on with everyone that I care about, much less keeping tabs on which of my friends know what about my life and keeping all interested parties updated. I apologize to you guys for being so scattered - life is speeding up at an exponential rate and I can barely keep tabs on all that's going on in my own life. Good thing I'm blissfully happy (since almost everything keeping me busy are things that I truly want in my life) or I'd most likely be back in the hospital with at least one new batch of scars.

* Riding lessons -- This is the one that actually pays me. Far from being enough to live off of, it does help keep my animals in treats and me in "going out to see my friends play live music and going out to coffee or lunch" money. So that's good. I teach beginner riding lessons to two lovely college-age ladies each Saturday - it's fun and I think I'll be adding at least one other student in February.

* Physical health -- I've been working out with my mom several days a week - she utilizes the treadmill and I rock the elliptical. I would really love to run the inaugural marathon in Mankato next fall......so there's that. I've been dropping weight since moving home, but I think I've hit the plateau of what's just going to melt off due to happiness vs. misery. Time to actually watch what I eat and exercise. Oh - which reminds me -- fire swings. :) I am now part of the Good Cooks dance company, and we're looking at putting on a show in June, and part of the show will consist of fire-swinging. I've been swinging fire now for probably 5-6 years, but I had quite the hiatus in there when my wrist was broken, so I need to muscle up on that and practice on a much more regular basis.

* I know I'm forgetting things. Oh - the divorce. Duh. That still hasn't happened and it needs to. Grad school application and all the financial paperwork that goes along with that. My finances. Don't get me started because I'm almost-successfully avoiding this train of thought and tonight is not the time for me to delve into that one. The dozen books or so that I'm in the middle of reading. The fact that the government is beginning to push me to get my ass back to work sooner vs. later -- I'm working with a local employment agency so I don't get booted off of my disability before I'm ready and able to deal with that. Being a good friend - friendships take time to nurture and I'm all about it.

That's enough, right? I may even be forgetting more things I'm working on, but that list alone is enough to push me close enough to the edge of the "icky panicky feeling" that notoriously sets me off down the path I'm trying so hard to steer clear of. (That would be the path of self-destruction, if you were wondering.)

Hm. Alright - well - 2 a.m. and I'm wide awake (since I took a several-hour nap this evening), so perhaps I'll dabble in something quiet and yet productive. Memoir it is. :)

Dabble.

Love to you all,

~Q~

Reasons to be Grateful - Now

I used to sit and write in one of my journals for hours on end. Sometimes I was all hopped up on Sudafed (legal speed) and so my fingers could rush across the page even faster than usual and I was able to keep that pen clutched in between my thumb and first 2 fingers long past the point of cramping - where the pen left an indentation on the pads of my fingers. Yeah, so my jaw was clenched and I'm pretty sure my heart was racing - what's your point? This wasn't always the case by any stretch of the imagination. I wrote while sober quite frequently as well, just so you know...

The point here is that one of the things I used to write about were things that I wanted to be grateful for -- things that I had not achieved, primarily. I picked up this trick from watching "The Secret" more times than I can keep track of (not that I even attempted to keep track of this count). The entries always started with "I am so happy and grateful now that..." and I would list at least one full page full of my wishes for my life, as though I was already at that point. I'm not at home right now, so I don't have immediate access to those journals, but I imagine that to look back at those lists would be quite the eye opening experience.

Tonight, however, I don't want to live encased in dreams for the future. Yes, I am a dreamer and I will likely always remain a dreamer. I'm with you in spirit on this one, John, my second favorite Beatle. But lately - I'm living the most beautiful dream, one I couldn't even imagine this past summer. So here -- these are the things that I am so happy and grateful for in my life tonight:

* serendipity
* my amazing family, who have really shown their true colors to me since I left Jason -- they'd do ANYTHING to help me because they LOVE me, and I no longer harbor any feelings of doubt about my worth in our family system
* my incredible friends --- when I turned 30 this past July, I refused a birthday party because I was certain that nobody would make it, and that even if some people DID come to it, it would be awkward as ass because I'd be trying to make everyone happy and it would have been quite impossible -- as I was personally miserable. Now? It's amazing. Not only did I learn that my friends who have loved me this entire time still do, but I'm less concerned with possibly being rejected and more interested in exploring the world around me, including getting to know all sorts of wonderful, creative, beautiful souls --- so I'm making friends with individuals that I feel honored to know at all.
* my babies -- Tyra, Trinity & Maya -- and now my newest addition to my little Q family (which is getting more expansive all the time) -- Lyric, the most beautiful horse I've ever laid eyes on, who was flat out GIVEN to me on the night I met him because the connection between us was so intense
* the community that I live in -- I moved all over this damn country in search of myself and happiness, trying to find that feeling that I actually belong somewhere - somewhere that inspires me. Turns out? It's where I grew up. I love you, Mankato. :)
* Music - oh the music.......it's running through my spine once again and shooting out of my fingertips and the soles of my feet. It churns in my gut and spills out of my mouth, my ears, and my eyes. I've been introduced to an entirely new world of local musicians who continue to blow my mind away each time I hear them and I'm finally to the point that I feel comfortable enough in being Me that I'm willing to put my soft belly out there and open up as well. A few of my new friends and I are starting a band, by the way. It's a girl band. We just tonight came up with the name (kudos - brilliant Esther) -- we're going to be called "That's What She Said". Once the holidays are over in a few weeks, we're going to get this going. How exciting!
* Root beer and Wild Rice Pot Pie at the Coffee Hag, because holy crap -- if you haven't tried these sumptuous treats (especially this pot pie thingy) -- you just haven't lived a full existence.
* Esther -- you get a special 'shout out' (holla!!!!) because you just showed up and now I'm going to sign off and enjoy my fantastic evening with you!

love,

~Q~

4 years later & I still Love

I'm having a bit of a dilemma right now, and I feel the need to write, even if I don't end up even publishing this post. In fact, if my knuckles on my right hand weren't bruised from smashing them with my fire swings last night, making it painful to physically hold a pen and write, I would probably simply go to one of my many, many journals to find my best friend in the world. Well, the best friend I have constant access to, anyway (being myself and all).

What is it about vocal harmonies - any harmony really - that rips my heart half out of my chest and stretches my being out to infinity? Seriously - because it would definitely be a LOT easier to focus and write, maybe even work on the memoir that I've been neglecting lately, if I could just hit the "stop" button. Just when I think I can do that though......*sigh*.............it inevitably changes key or another song I must listen to is on next. Or maybe not even that much - maybe I just have to hit the "back" key just one more time, I swear. Uh huh. That's what you said an hour ago, Q.....

So what's the big dilemma, lady? Oh - it really doesn't go any deeper than that tonight for me, I don't think. Writing now vs. music now. Although, now that I'm thinking and typing.............. I continue to wait patiently for the fear to set in, to rob the present happiness I'm wallowing in, as it always has in the past. I used to be extremely uncomfortable whenever I would even catch a glimpse of life not sucking-ass for me. Lately though - I don't know what happened to me, and I want to figure it out, if only so I could tell other people in the hopes that it could be repeated for someone else. I am just so............content. It's weird, but in that very great way. The fear just isn't there.

I was rummaging through old writings from several years ago, and I came across this description of one night in my old apartment in South Minneapolis, in 2005. This was almost exactly four years ago for me now - November 18, 2005, to be exact. Wow - four years to the day. I didn't even plan that. Huh. I wasn't attempting to write in any sort of form at all - I was just in agony - I remember this night. My arms were on fire that night and I didn't call anyone - maybe because there was nobody I felt comfortable calling, maybe because it was super late at night, or maybe because I was being stubborn - that I don't remember anymore. I was sitting in my brown chair in the corner of my apartment with one of my notebooks, just........god that was a shitty time in my life. Anyways - please don't snicker at me, even under your breath or to yourself, because - well. Just please don't. Here's what I wrote exactly four years ago tonight:

So deliberate it can't be called an accident
So painful it couldn't be deliberate
but it was.
153 red lines marking a semi-decent night
that ended
Right
where the day began.
Alone.


I hear the hiss of the steam radiator
and the persistent tic of a kitchen clock otherwise known as a leaky faucet
into week-old dirty bowls and plates.
I see sixteen inches of paperwork to be filed,
an empty bottle of Premium beer,
and the bloody razor blades from last night's escapade.
I feel the warmth of sterile cotton sleeves,
taped on either end to hide
the violent map of repressed emotion sliced up both arms.
I smell a year's worth of animal life
that the occasional cleaning can't mask
and faint lingerings of opium incense and smoked resin.
I taste organic cheese ravioli,
my last Diet Mt. Dew,
and unbrushed teeth.
I am with pets in a human's world
inexplicably sad and existentially tired.


Hm. Maybe that doesn't make you want to cry when you read it, but that was a pretty accurate description of way too many nights for me at that point in my life. I don't ache to cry anymore when I read something like this, but I do want to somehow get to her, the girl who wrote these things that night, and assure her that it IS going to eventually be worth all the pain. Eventually, my love, you will no longer question your existence, curse your parents for bringing you into this eff'd up world, swear that having children is pure evil knowing how reality is, and you will smile - for real. Unfortunately, she still has to wade through several more years of hell and it's only going to get uglier before the nightmare ends. But it is worth it - I promise.

This is exactly why I want to write and talk with others and do everything in my sphere of influence to help. I owe it to her. I promised a long time ago that I wouldn't off myself if it would just stop hurting SO bad - just sometime, please. I didn't even demand immediacy or, shit - I didn't even specify "soon". Just - it can't be like this forever. Please take it away someday. Even when I compiled a document outlining my desired funeral plans, down to what I wanted to wear, what food I wanted to be there, and who got my beloved pets and music (Emily got the CDs - I think the pets went to my parents) and what music (including the all important lyrics) I wanted played during the service - even at that point, which was admittedly pretty low - that can't all be for no reason. I can't believe that - I need to believe that good, beauty and love can grow from where I've been and what I've survived, and what others have survived as well.

I do believe it. I'm living proof that healing is possible and that life is what you make of it. I've been asked by several people "what happened to you? what made you change so drastically? How did you get the strength to leave?" I think that trying to define this in one answer is a ridiculous undertaking, but not being one to shy away from the ridiculous - I'm going to go with this: I gave up control. I stopped believing that I could man-handle my life into fitting into how I thought I needed it to go. Giving up seems to insinuate something sad, negative or depressing, but I've found it to be just the opposite. I stopped lying to myself - I stopped pretending that reality was something that it wasn't - and I stopped pretending I knew how the rest of my life would unfold. I still don't know, and I don't really even want to know. I have a few vague ideas of what I'd like to work towards, but I prefer the future to more or less take care of itself, to keep myself surrounded in possibilities for the time being. I'm not saying that I won't make any decisions anytime soon. Hell - I decided to start selling lefse just 3 days ago, and now an entirely new avenue is opening up in front of me that I have never even considered, and I'm running with it.

Anyway - if any of you are in that shit place right now - oh honey child.....I've been somewhere in that neighborhood before, and I promise, I promise, I promise - this too shall pass and it WILL be worth all that you're going through right now. Oh - and you CAN write an entire post with great music playing at the same time. ;) I just did.

Much love,

~Q~

I *heart* Mankato

Dearest Mankato,

Why was I so adamant that I never move back to my hometown? In my heart of hearts, I've always known I'm a Minnesotan - in all the states I've lived in, I never did change my residency, my driver's license or my license plates for my car. Every year I filed taxes in another state - Missouri, Vermont, Nebraska or Kentucky - I filed as a "non-resident".

Still, after fiance #2 dumped me and foiled my plans to move to Savannah, Georgia, to live happily ever after with a man I barely knew, I was dead-set against moving home. It took a road-trip to Florida with Ro, Tyra and my old car, Big H to change my course. I actually ran into a guy I went to high school with at an Against Me! show in Gainesville (or actually - in front of the venue - it was sold out and none of us got in) and ended up talking for hours with RoRo and Jake before I figured it out. I didn't even know Jake in high school. He's a few years younger than me, but we had mutual friends and both went to the same punk shows for several years. Actually, when I first thought I recognized him on the sidewalk, I disregarded it because the only people I thought I knew in Florida were old horse people from my job. When he passed by me again, however, I had to say something. Turns out, he WAS indeed from Minnesota, he DID indeed go to my high school, and I DID know who he was. The three of us went to coffee and he invited us to crash at his and his girlfriend's place for the night. We did that, and the next morning, after waking up to coffee brewing and breakfast cooking, the three of us sat around for several more hours and just talked, talked, talked, talked. (His girlfriend had to go to work early that morning.)

I will never forget what he said to me towards the end of that morning conversation. He said, "you know Sarah? I know I really don't know you all that well, but the more we keep talking, the more it seems like you really just want to go home. So.........why don't you go home?"

Huh. Good question Jake. Up until he said that to me, it hadn't even occurred to me that this was a possibility. Yes, I have a fantastic family. Of course I would have somewhere to go in my hometown. Yeah, my dad did have fairly serious heart issues in the recent past. Of course I missed out on a lot of family gatherings - watching Adam play in his various bands, going to watch the Twins, watching great movies with Emily, and even though I emailed with Mom quite frequently, it's not quite the same as sitting in the same room as her and talking shit to each other, or watching as she goes breathless from the "wind-up laugh" that Emily is so good at provoking in her.

I couldn't acknowledge it to myself back then, but of course I was afraid to come home because of what I had waiting for me here, emotionally. Ye ol' geographic fix does NOT work, by the way. Years of drugs doesn't help either. Trying to gloss over an infected wound and JUST BE HAPPY, DAMMIT is also pointless. At this point, I wasn't even really riding anymore - I was so bitter about choosing the horses over my life in Mankato (and the ex-boyfriend) and then being completely let down by the world as I had imagined it - I didn't even WANT to ride anymore. That's very unlike me, the girl who read every single horse book in my middle school library - twice - and didn't buy a car in high school, but did work two jobs to buy a horse and take riding lessons.

I did come home though. I took the insanely obvious hint from the Universe (I went to Florida to check out a free apartment I was offered in a barn; it didn't feel right and that very night I run into Mankato, MN - in Florida, for crying out loud.) I moved back in with my parents for 8 months and attempted to pry the scar tissue off over my deepest wound so I could clean the infection out and let it heal properly. I left Mankato in 1997. I moved back in 2004. Seven years of running, basically. Eight months later, I decided that I wanted to teach English instead of working with horses (still bitter), so I enrolled in grad school at Augsburg up in Minneapolis to get my Master's in Education and my teaching license for secondary school. Almost half-way through the year, I remembered how much I really didn't LIKE high school, and....well........it ceased to be interesting to me, so I stopped going. I was working full-time for the American Heart Association at this time as well, and I was also getting acclimated to living in a new city. I was freakin' miserable.

By May 2005, I had started cutting myself to deal with the emotional pain that just would NOT leave me alone. That's an entire book's worth of stories in and of itself, so I won't get too into it at this point. Suffice it to say, I once again found the drugs and I was really, really unhappy. Really unhappy. By the Fall of that same year, I started going in and out of the psych ward at Abbott NW. Station 48 became my second home, somewhere I felt safe and comfortable, when I wasn't safe or comfortable anywhere in the world. By January of 2006, AHA let me go because I couldn't stay out of the hospital and they felt I needed to take the time to truly heal. I was put on short-term disability through the company and a whole new chapter of my life started.

Anyway - I'm not at all in the mood to talk about that chapter right now, so let's just jump to August 20, 2009, when I moved out of where I was living with my husband, and once again came home. This time around, I'm not looking at Mankato through my high school eyes. I no longer see ghosts on every corner, in every park, or driving down familiar streets. I see a town that has exactly what I'm looking for. There's a great vibe in this little city, and I'm excited to be discovering all the nooks and crannies that fit me NOW, not me at 17. No, I do not intend to live with my parents forever. I'm pretty sure we'll all be excited when I'm sturdy enough on my own two feet again to get my own space in my hometown. I absolutely adore seeing my mom and dad every day, and I do realize how very blessed I am to be in this situation right now, but dude. I'm 30. And I live with my parents.

A great friend of mine, Mooshey, sent me a link to a job she thought I would be interested in last week sometime. I WAS super interested in it, and extremely qualified for it as well. It was for a barn manager job at a therapeutic riding stable. It's not PRECISELY what I plan on doing, as this facility dealt almost exclusively with physical disabilities and I'm looking to have a facility focused primarily with equine facilitated mental health services, but still......a wonderful experience, no doubt. I was very, very excited when she sent it to me (do I not have the best friends? They think to do things like send me job postings they know I'd love....) but something in my gut stopped me from calling them immediately to find out more information. And then it stopped me from making that phone call the next day as well. Finally, on day 3, while sitting in the waiting room of the clinic while my mom had an appointment, I figured it out.

I keep a small, felt-covered journal in my purse at all times, so wherever I am, I can write when the mood strikes. There often ends up being like 4 books in there as well, a few CDs, and sometimes even my laptop. It's ridiculous, really. :) Anyway - as I'm writing in this little journal of mine, I realize that I have no desire to leave this bend of the MN river. The job I was interested in is southeast of Kansas City. Nothing against Missouri, but I've already lived there, and it just doesn't DO it for me like Minnesota does.

As far as MN goes, I tried being a "City person", but I'm just not. I hate having to be in the car for at least an hour to get to the countryside. I really, really like visiting Minneapolis (and even St. Paul is finally warming up to me) and I'm glad I lived there for awhile but...........I just don't belong up there. I tried, I really did. I tried to be "hip" and live near all the wonderful coffee shops and music and interesting people to watch. I'm just not. There are fantastic coffee shops in Mankato (where I almost ALWAYS run into at least one person I know and like, if not more) and just tonight I was at an open mic at this place called Professor's, where yet again, I ran into someone I vaguely know from mutual friends, and I was seriously just blown away by the talent I witnessed. Two hours of beautiful souls sharing their art with us - it was so fantastic. So fantastic.

So, dearest Mankato - I'll stick around indefinitely and see what the Universe brings to me, or perhaps what the Universe brings me to. There's such good juju in this town - certain neighborhoods and streets being even more appealing to me than others. I dig it. I certainly do. :)

Love,

~Q~

An attempt at putting the Monsters of Folk show tonight into words

I went to see Monsters of Folk tonight at the Orpheum Theatre in Minneapolis. Even though I've been in love with Conor Oberst's music and lyrics for probably at least 6 years now, and this is arguably the best project he's been in (in my opinion, anyway) - I still hesitated at the hefty price tag for a show. The $48 ticket, plus all those damn fees added up to a whopping $72.95 for one show. The only other type of show I've spent that kind of money on is Cirque du Soleil, and they have a helluva lot bigger overhead and people involved than Monsters of Folk, I guarantee it.

Still, I missed Conor with the Mystic Valley Band the last two times he was in town (cigarettes and Monster energy drinks obviously took precedence over my favorite artist - and I've never smoked tobacco or drank a Monster energy drink in my life - boooo). This was my big treat to myself this month, and I couldn't be happier with my choice.

Because my putzy self got going later than I had originally intended, completely forgetting how crappy Hwy 62 is at approximately 6 p.m., Adam, Marit and I did not end up having a lovely Thai dinner at a real sit-down restaurant. They wanted to go to.......I think it's called "Taste of Thailand"? It's Adam's favorite Thai restaurant, but it's in St. Paul - too far away (good goin' Q). No worries. I picked Adam up at the Midtown Commons (where he works, and stayed after for happy hour tonight), we got in touch with Marit, and we headed to Uptown. The restaurant that took the place of Sawatdee on Hennepin (Roat Osha) was super packed and it was getting late, so I voted for Chipotle. I know, I know - but I freakin' love Chipotle and there aren't any in Kato, so I was still very happy. Mmmmmmm......burrito......

We ate & went in separate directions. Adam had band practice tonight and I kept on Hennepin, paid the annoying $10 to park, and walked through the rain to the Orpheum.

I was afraid that I would be a bit late, but my timing couldn't have been more perfect. The lines to get in were already more or less through, and I had just enough time to get one overpriced beer and find my seat.

The Orpheum was the perfect venue for this show, and as soon as I sat down and took one sip of my Summit, the lights went down and they came on. I was up in the balcony, on the right-hand side when looking at the stage. Top row in the bottom section, so I didn't have far to go for my seat.

They opened with "Say Please", which I'm assuming is their radio song, since that's what they played on Conan. I suppose if I ever listened to the radio, I would know this, but alas - I generally don't. I've never really been "in the know" and that doesn't appear to be changing anytime in the near future. :)

All 5 guys (Conor Oberst, Mike Mogis, Yim Yames, M. Ward, and the drummer - Will Johnson, who isn't on the album, but is touring with them) were quite dapper in their suits and ties, but I would've honestly been just as thrilled had I been blind. Granted, I would have missed Conor's super shiny shoes and M.'s green three-piece suit (I do love a vest on a man...oh and suspenders....which I didn't actually see tonight. I still feel the need to share this love of suspenders with the world), but DAMN - the music was just incredible. I don't think there's a bad seat at the Orpheum, and the only time my view was blocked was when people in front of me came and went for more overpriced drinks, or to presumably break the seal. I, for one, was not about to leave my seat until it was over. Really people? Is a drink that important? Maybe if you didn't drink so much, you wouldn't need to go to the bathroom so much. Just a thought.

There was no intermission at this lovely Monsters of Folk show. They took small breaks one or two at a time, and played solo or in pairs when they weren't all onstage together, throughout the entire show. They also traded instruments at almost every single song. Even Will, the drummer, came out and played guitar with Yim Yames for a song. He's got one helluva voice, too. I'm 99% sure they played every single song on the Monsters of Folk album that was released in September, and they also played a bunch of songs from Bright Eyes, M. Ward, and My Morning Jacket. Conor and Mike played a Bright Eyes song from "I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning" called "We Are Nowhere, and It's Now". On the album he sings it with Loretta Lynn and it's gorgeous. He sang it alone tonight, with Mike playing guitar as well, and dedicated it to the owner of the 400 Bar, because Conor wrote it in the parking lot after playing there years ago. I thought that was a fun fact. :)

I didn't count, but I bet there were probably 10-15 guitars floating about up there, in addition to bass, an electric keyboard/synthesizer, a piano, drum kit with various things like timpani mallets and chimes, steel drums and bongos, triangles, shaker eggs & tambourines. Oh - and of course the steel guitar that Mike Mogis can rock like no other.

The show wasn't sold out, but it was certainly full. Depending on the song, the audience was either grinning and clapping along, nodding heads, hollerin' & whistling, or completely silent and hanging on every note. I could feel the energy moving in my hands by the second song in, and over the course of the next 3 hours, it moved to my face & legs, my heart swelled and my chest got tight and then I'd start laughing, because Yim would dance like Elvis with his legs and Conor would crawl up and hop off an amp. He did that little foot kick thing too, which also was cause for a grin. The lights were perfectly synchronized with the music, changing and adding an additional layer of emotion to each song. The center of my chest was actually sore by the end of the 5 song encore, the only time during the show when we all stood up. Thanks to the stadium seating, even my five foot self could still see.

When the show was finally over, I didn't wait around at all. I perused the merchandise, but it was all too expensive for my broke ass, so I wandered back out into the rain, smiling to myself and excited to write, write, write, write!

You know, in a world where we are constantly bombarded with how ugly and full of hatred humanity can be (especially on the news), nights like these make me grateful to be alive and part of the world. It reminded me of how beautiful art can touch the soul and connect a theater full of strangers, singing along to the same songs, part of something sincerely magical, if only for a few hours.

much love,

~Q~