Happy Holidays. Saturday, January 5 2008

so what’s interesting about being a parent is that you search and search for ways to make your child’s life the best you can.  in my life, this means trying to create traditions for my family.  it also means trying to shield Nate from the things in my culture that i find reprehensible.

Christmas has always been horrible for me.  i’m not a materialistic person.  and i’m not a religious person.  and as far as i know, these are the two things that make up Christmas. 

so i tried all fall to figure out how to celebrate the season.  it was complicated by the fact that my mother LOVES Christmas.  she was irritated to say the least that i was even contemplating changing our Christmas celebration.  the thing is, i grew up with “Stressmas”.  there was a lot of overspending, a lot of undesirable gifts, and a lot of stomping and throwing.  i don’t want that for Nate.  not to mention that i heard on the radio that the average teenager requests over $1000 worth of stuff on thier Christmas list.  that will not be my son.

i tried calling it Festivus.  like Seinfeld.  but not.  we ended up celebrating the solstice with an evening walk.  since Nate is too young to get the celebrating part anyway, it didn’t really matter.  Christmas was still hectic and stressful.  i’ll try again next year.

New Years’ is my favorite holiday by far.  i love the hope and renaissance of an upcoming year.  Nate was asleep.  i enjoyed some champagne.

New Year. New Approach. Saturday, January 5 2008

i wanted to write this in order, but i apparently don’t spend as much time in front of my computer as i thought.

in the interest of actually getting to the stuff i want to get to, i’m starting the new year with the story of my son.

i’m sorry if this disrupts your reading. 

who gives a job to someone like that?! Saturday, January 5 2008

i wore a great suit.  i had a portfolio.  i had energy and drive.  i had also had a few drinks.

i walked into the conference room and there was a hawk mascot uniform on the chair beside the one designated for me.  i asked the ladies, “will he be asking the hard questions?”  there was laughter.  good start.  the ladies who interviewed me ended up to be the youth services department head, the branch manager, and the adult services department head.  fortunately, they laughed at my quip.

now, i wasn’t drunk by any means, but i was relaxed.  the alcohol had, in fact, lowered my inhibitions.  it’s also worth mentioning that i was COMPLETELY convinced that i wouldn’t get this job.  the challenges of the previous few days told me that i wasn’t together enough to pull off a successful interview.  and because i was so convinced, i decided that this interview would be a learning experience: what kind of questions would be asked?  what does a professional interview look like?  how could i better prepare for the next one?

i went in with nothing to lose.

i don’t remember all of the questions…it all moved to fast.  what i do remember is that when they asked me about programming ideas, i told them that i’d been on a “bender”.  i remember that when they asked me how i would handle someone looking at porn in the Teen area, i responded, “i would card them.”  i remember telling them that i was excited to live the “Vegas Life”, whatever that means.  when they asked me for my final statement, i told them they wouldn’t find a more enthusiastic candidate, that i was surely lacking experience, but i’d sure try hard.

they were stonefaced.  i didn’t feel any chemistry, which is why i should’ve known it wasn’t meant to be. 

the Beehive. Wednesday, December 12 2007

I love this story.

like i said, I’d spent what seemed like forever trying to get the attention of this warm, scruffy music seller that i worked with.  i strutted past the music desk every chance i got and i even made a rule in the café that i was the only staffer allowed to take out the garbage because it meant walking by the music desk.  how many girls do you know who’ll do that for ya’?

so, finally, in January of 1999, Dennis asks me if i’d like to get some coffee after class.  i tried to remain calm, and i might have succeeded for as long as it took me to get from the music desk to the café.  then i started screaming and jumping up and down like a contestant on the Price is Right.  Dennis later told me that he heard every word of my excitement from across the building.

the next morning i head off to class, looking cute in jeans and a sweater, wearing my favorite winter shoes.  now, it must be mentioned that i have a penchant for falling.  i have a weak ankle that gives out every once in a while.  there’s foreshadowing for ya’.

after class, i met Dennis at the designated corner on campus and we walked to the Beehive.  the Beehive was this old old old theater that had been turned into the second location of a local coffeehouse.  i have a special place in my heart for the original Beehive because it was one of the places i spent my nights as a teen.  i think they were open 24/7.  i would steal my mom’s car in the middle of the night and drive my friends to the coffeehouse to play cards or just sit and talk.  later, when the second locale opened up, we made friends with the baristas and would hang out there all night.  at fifteen, i had a short romance with an artist named Andrew who cleaned the theater at night in exchange for a place to paint and rehearse (he played several instruments).  he seduced me with his serenades more than once, with multiple instruments and his many talents.  but that was many years before this date.

by this time, the Beehive had expanded to include a bar and a smoking lounge on the upper floor.  so we went in, ordered our coffee, and headed upstairs–Dennis was smoking at that time.

there was a long flight of stairs interrupted midway by a landing.  i had ordered a café au lait.  what this meant for me was that i had a short, wide, completely filled ceramic cup of coffee.  i was most worried about spilling it all over myself.  what i did not envision was the edge of my shoe catching on one of the stairs on our way up.

in slow motion, the line of my ankle, then knee, then hip, then ribs, elbow, and forehead all reached down to meet the incline of the staircase.  i actually had time to think “this cannot be happening.”  at the end of the fall, i rested my forehead on the stair in closest proximity and then set my coffee on the landing. what i’m proud of is that through the whole event, i didn’t spill a drop of coffee…years of coffeehouse training.

i looked up and Dennis was on the landing.  without a laugh, smile, or smirk, he reached his hand down and asked if i was okay.  i think i fell in love with him at that very moment.

i would fall many more times…and eventually there was laughing…but not that first time.

Millerama. Wednesday, December 5 2007

Rick confused me more than any other crush i’d had to that point in my life.

when he kissed me, i really thought it meant that he was interested.  i’m naive enough to think that.   i’m romantic enough to think that.

so i went home all smiley.  it didn’t occur to me that there was a future for that relationship; i came home to Dennis and, of course, Rick and i were a continent apart.  so i just kind of reveled in the satisfaction of being interesting to someone cute.

a day or two after i got home, i sent out an email, via Alan, that said thanks for a great time.  none of the others knew me before the trip, so i thought it was wonderful that they were so welcoming.  literally 8 minutes after i sent it, Rick responded:

“Hey Melissa,

I’m glad you wrote, for some reason (my stupidity, perhaps) I didn’t
save your phone number after entering it.

It was great meeting you, hanging out and talking, and finding out the
easy way what it feels like to have a piercing in your mouth.

i’m actually listening to Air right now, the company I’m working for
has a 500,000 song library which is rather nice, so if you have any
suggestions for me to look up, I might be able to listen to them here.
I’ve forgotten all your suggestions already, (which I would have done
even if it wasn’t 7am) take no offense.

Send me your address, and i can send that CD.

I hope you have a great summer, and I’ll be curious to hear if you flee
the country to Montreal or head to Chicago.

Take care,
Rick

now, i know that there is no declaration of love in this email.  but it is a little flirty.  after some back and forth mostly about music, i eventually received a package.  there were two cds inside a handmade envelope.  the first three songs on the cd were all about sex and love.  the artists were Heather Duby, Interpol, the Postal Service, and it even had Belle and Sebastian’s “Dirty Dream Number Two’.

everyone who listened to the cd said it was one giant flirtfest.  men women boys girls.  everyone.

i sent an email that said the cd was great; sexy and wonderful.  and i asked him if he meant anything by the songs he chose.  he responded:

“Hello again,

I’m glad you liked the music. I wish I could take credit for all of it, but
I’m just the guy with a CD burner. I think I’d be hard-pressed to match that
myself, since I basically pulled all my favorite songs (for now) together
for one CD, it seems like that well is tapped for now.

As for the messages that could be interpreted, I was thinking of adding a
disclaimer when I sent the discs, but I forgot. I just went back and
listened to some of the music, and I can see how there could be something I
was trying to say, but it just happens to be music I enjoy. I have a
tendency to not pay attention to lyrics, and make up my own words. I guess
this could get me into trouble…”

ahhh.  foiled again.

so at this point, i was feeling a little led on.  i really liked him, that was the problem.  i wanted it to happen.  but again, this is obviously going nowhere, right?

and looking back, i’m not sure if i was unhappy in my relationship with Dennis or not…nothing sticks out.  i may have been more unhappy in my Pittsburgh life than anything.  in my youth, i’d spent many years traveling and was rarely sedentary.  in my early adulthood, it never would have scared me to pick up at a moments notice and move to a place where i didn’t know a soul.  by this time, i’d been in Pittsburgh for over 5 years.  and i didn’t see a way out.  until Vegas.  meeting all of those people made me realize that there were places better suited to me than Pittsburgh.  Rick may have just been the embodiment of that energy.

so i go out to Seattle, looking fantastic by the way (i lost 20 lbs that summer).  and you know this already…i went to the beach, did Bumbershoot.  i saw Rick twice.  both times he had his new girlfriend in tow.   and both times i got that weird feeling that i was being sized up.  i have no sense of whether that’s true.  he may be a natural flirt.  i know i am and i’m probably wired to pick up on those signals even if they aren’t there. 

we continued to email through the fall.  mostly about music.  it tapered off.

what i’ve realized about my millerama episode is that it stirred me up and instigated a series of life-changing events.  i got restless.   i started to question what i really wanted in life, i started questioning where i belonged, and i decided that it wasn’t Pittsburgh.  you’ll find that funny by the end of the story.
 

the Biggest trick. Saturday, November 17 2007

during that first trip to Vegas, i had a moment of profound change.  that night i called it the biggest trick ever played on me.

we were at Seven, sitting on the patio, and the bouncers started going around to tell everyone that they were closing up the patio.  every one of us at the table thought they were just preparing to close the club.  we went inside and danced for a while before trying to figure out what to do next.

who knows how long we danced…we had no sense of time.  we decided to go to another club.  we headed for the door.  when the bouncer said goodnight, he opened the door.  the sun was up.  and i don’t mean that it was light out.  the sun was midsky.  it was the drugs, but i was utterly amazed.  where did the time go?

as we walked down the Strip, i realized that they weren’t closing the patio to prepare for anything…they sent us inside so we wouldn’t know that it was morning.  somehow, i felt violated…but in a good way.  kinda.

i truly believe that this was the moment i fell in love with Vegas.  there was something about the obviousness of it, the blatent masquerade.  the infliction of hedonism.  Vegas was seedy underneath that glamorous sheen, and i loved it.

the next year is a whirlwind. Saturday, November 17 2007

did i mention that i adored Las Vegas?

let me put it this way: it was one year, to the day, until i moved to Vegas. 

in the meantime, i visited the Valley five times.  it was the only destination Dennis and i went to for a year.

but first, i went to Seattle.  alone.  Rick lived in Seattle.  so does my friend Alan, but i didn’t really go there to see him.  actually, i went there to see the Pixies.  the Pixies were playing Bumbershoot that year, and having never seen them, i thought, “what an opportunity!“  wink, wink.  Bumbershoot is a great festival, a really neat experience if you’ve never been.  lots of music, art, lit stuff, and food.

anyway.  i left the tuesday before Labor Day and stayed the night at Alan’s.  i woke up the next day and picked up my rental car to drive out to the ocean.  at that point, i’d never seen the Pacific and was really excited about it.  i didn’t get what i expected, but it was beautiful.  breathtaking.  i stopped in Port Angeles and admired the small town before trekking out to the far end of the peninsula.  I walked the long stretch of beach, joined in an oceanfront bonfire, snapped some pictures, and camped out in the car (illegally).  you’re supposed to stay inland incase there would be a tsunami–oh yeah, tsunami.  who knew that was even an option in the contigious 48?  i didn’t.  the next day i hiked some trails and ended up on Second Beach, one of the most beautiful places on Earth.  i stopped in Forks, a reservation town, before heading back.  on the way home, i decided to check in at Hurricane Ridge.  Hurricane Ridge is this neat place in the Olympic Mountains where if you look one way, you see the ocean, and the other way, there’s a glacier and some beautiful mountains.  it was awe inspiring.  the whole trip made me think i could be a granola girl.  i couldn’t.  but this trip made me want to be.

Rick has his own post.  He was still weird on this trip, but whatever.

i went back to Seattle and did Bumbershoot.  The Pixies were amazing.  this trip changed my life.

i went home and started a new job managing a coffeeshop.  Dennis and i also made arrangements for me to go back to Library School.  I had to take some time off because of tuition issues, and Dennis agreed to lend me the money to be able to go back.  i owe my career to him.  thanks. 

the fall went quickly.  there were two trips to Vegas, the holidays, and other good times. 

in January of 2005, i started my last semester of Library School.  in February, Dennis and i were trying to decide on a destination for spring break.  i, of course, wanted to go to Vegas.  Dennis did not.  we looked into some other destinations.  in the meantime, i found a job posting for a Young Adult Librarian position in Henderson (near Las Vegas).  i couldn’t believe the serendipity.  everyone i knew said it was fate, so i applied. 

Henderson called and wanted to interview me.  i was thrilled.  dennis was only upset because it meant that we had to go to Vegas for spring break, which coincided with my interview.  we compromised by deciding to drive out to Cali to visit his cousin.  Dennis loves California.  i, at the time, really did not, but i knew how disappointed he was about having to go back to Vegas again.

the trip happened in early March.  the weather was fantastic.  the trip to Cali was short and sweet.  we got lost on the way home.  now, the sad part is that from L.A. to Vegas, there are really only two roads, but i think we were too busy looking at the scenery.  getting lost sucks.  this particular version of getting lost caused a HUGE argument between Dennis and i.   such an argument that we didn’t speak the rest of the drive and he went straight to the casino when we got back.  i went to Kinko’s to put together my portfolio and got lost on the way back.  i was so exasperated by the time i got back to the hotel that i was in tears…i was convinced that i wasn’t going to get the job.  all of the getting lost translated in my mind to being inept.  Dennis tried to comfort me and we went out that night.

the next morning, i was supposed to get a massage–i thought it would help me relax for the interview–but someone didn’t put me in the appointment book, so i was denied.  at that point, i was so convinced that fate was against me that i went to the casino and played slots (for the free drinks).  i had several drinks, went up to the room, and got ready for an interview.

in my opinion, i bombed the interview.  see aside, ‘who gives a job to someone like that?’

we went home and i was devistated.  Dennis didn’t really tell me what he thought about it.  knowing what i know now, he was probably relieved.  that being said, i got word from my references that they were being called.  i spent two weeks with my fingers and toes crossed.  HDPL called to offer me the job on March 28, 2005.  i took the call in my car.  incase you had any doubt, i said yes.

Dennis pretended to be happy when i told him that i’d gotten the job.  Later, he told me that he was nervous about a long distance relationship.  i wasn’t worried…we’d been together for six years.  we could handle it.

i was moving in a little over a month.

and now…Dennis. Tuesday, November 13 2007

the short history is as follows:

Dennis and i met while working in one of the major bookstores.  he worked in music and i worked in the café.  he was a warm, sensitive type with a scruffy face and really beautiful eyes.  he also liked black metal, the riverdales, the cure,  and tori amos.  what can i say…i like ‘em complex.

i tried (completely unsuccessfully) to play it cool for 6 months.  he finally asked me to get a cup of coffee on January 23, 1999.  see aside, the Beehive. 

the first two years were tumultuous at best.  he was wrangling feelings for several exes, dealing with an untreated clinical depression, some drug use, etc.  and didn’t introduce me, or even refer to me, as his girlfriend.  we just spent 5 nights a week together…you know, as friends.

the next two years were literally a roller coaster.  i honestly believe we “broke up” every six to eight weeks, mostly because he “couldn’t handle it”.   there was a lovely (read: horrible and embarrasing) incident at the Library, some wonderful (read: fabulous) trips to Chicago, Boston, NYC, Montreal, Toronto, and more.  we liked to travel.   

in spring of 2004, before the Vegas trip, i explained that i thought we should break up for real.  he was 29 and living at home–his mother still did his laundry, paid his bills, and cooked for him, and he had no driver’s license.  i told him that i loved him, but that i needed him to grow up.  if that couldn’t happen, then we shouldn’t bother continuing our relationship.

he responded with, “so you want to break up because i never took home-ec?!” 

that’s the kind of guy he was.  there was a short period of vague i-hate-you-ness (this is where the Vegas trip falls), followed by an eventual reunion.  this would basically bring us up-to-date.

in my opinion, he treated me pretty badly those first years, and truthfully, i don’t know why i stayed.  i thought we were meant to be.  the worst part is that he was so inconsistent in his affections that when he did fall in love with me, i thought it wouldn’t last.  i absolutely didn’t get it.  i constantly anticipated the next breakup, or at least the next book-throwing argument, and it caused me to rehash his bad moments over and over again.  i didn’t believe in his love until it was too late.

since i’ll probably say lots of mean things about Dennis,  i’ll say this:  i love(d)  him deeply. 

he is a genius, and when he wants to be, he’s warm, sensitive, loyal, caring, and sweet.  there is a lot of love and a lot of anger in him; they make him one of the most passionate people i’ve ever met.  he is unique in a world of carbon copies, and i will always miss him.

let’s get back to the story.

where to begin? Thursday, November 8 2007

i will not start at the beginning.  i really can’t.  it’s just too much, and it’s not really what this journal is supposed to be about.

i’ll start with…the weekend of May 4th, 2004.  this is an important weekend in my life, and this post will probably take a while.

 the important information is that i started dating Dennis in January of 1999.  we’d had 5 rocky years by this point, but we were still in it.  a few months earlier, i’d gotten an evite from one of my oldest friends to attend a group trip to Las Vegas.  Alan and his friends had been going there twice a year or so for the past few years and it had been forever since we’d seen each other as we were living on opposite ends of the continent.  i was feeling like i needed a break from the rut of workandschool, so i enthusiastically said i’d attend.

i arrived late Friday night.  late late.  i got a cab directly to NY, NY, dropped my bags with the bellhop and immediately went in to see “Zumanity”, the sexiest Cirque de Soleil show on the Strip.  Alan introduced me to his boyfriend, Darren, and we all went in.  Alan being Alan (and perhaps i could relate more of that later), he got called up on stage at the end of the show.  He was wonderful!  we left the show exhilarated.  or at least i did.  We trucked over to the Monte Carlo (the most fabulous smelling casino on the Strip) and dropped my bags.  Alan and Darren said they were hitting the sheets, and for fear of being a third wheel, i decided to walk off some of my excitement.  i think i got back before the sun came up.

the following day was lazy.  lots of lounging by the pool.  i remember a creepy guy who was hitting on Alan by rubbing his groin.  ick.  and i remember meeting Rick.  Rick is handsome enough, funny, and has a way of making you know that he’s interested in what you’re saying.  he was easy to talk to, interesting, and became more attractive as the day wore on.

the big plans for that night were dinner and dancing.  we were there to abuse our bodies with whatever substances amused us most.  for the record, mine was ecstacy.

we had a wonderful dinner at Positano?, a Wulfgang Puck restaurant in the Venetian.  Dinner conversation was delightful.  Rick noticed that he and i were the only two with red wine.  i met a lot of interesting people that night.  really wonderful people.  the night continued with a handful of danceclubs.  i lost my first $100 in 8 minutes at the Palms.  i’ve never gambled there since.  we ended up at a fantastic, no-longer-there spot called Seven.  great music.  great atmosphere.  lots of other dancers on lots of substances.

as i remember it, a man sat down next to me at the table we had conquered out on the patio.  he was foreign and a little over the top and a lot annoying.  he kept saying, “whassup dog-ie?!”  he brought me a drink, and i, being well versed in the ways of deplorable men, refused.  he contested and the whole thing ended up in Rick drinking the drink.  later i asked him if he was feeling okay.

 m:”are you feeling alright?  you shouldn’t have drunk that drink.”

r: “why? why didn’t you drink it?”

m: “don’t you know anything?!  you don’t ever drink a drink from someone you don’t   know, unless the bartender hands it to you.”

r: “that’s dumb.  why?”

m, with ‘hello?’ expression: ”because people drug drinks!”

r, with exaggerated face: “oooohhh.  do you think he wanted to have sex with me?”

m, giggling: “who knows?  you should just be careful.”

AND THIS IS WHERE IT GETS INTERESTING.

what i heard next was, “why, would you want to have sex with me?” 

i know that i heard this because i deliberated in my head.  remember Dennis?  yeah, i’d forgotten him until that moment, too.  i didn’t really want to tell Rick about Dennis.  and yet i felt guilty.  so i said, “well, i would want to…”  even thinking in my head that this statement left me a trap door incase i was too guilt ridden to actually do it.  i would want to, but i have a boyfriend.  i would want to but i just met you.  whatever.

and honest to jesus, we skipped over this incredibly awkward moment and Rick and i were attached at the hip the rest of the night.  until 10am.  in that time we danced, giggled, snuggled on a couch, and just talked.  and i’m willing to believe it was the ecstacy, but it felt incredibly intimate.

we caught up with the others, who were all playing Blackjack at the Monte Carlo.  i got coaxed into sitting down, even though i was pretty done with gambling after the Palms.  i decided to play small–$40.  i am happy to say that i turned that $40 in $260 before i told the dealer and my friends that i had to quit because it felt “greedy” to keep winning.   and yes, they made fun of me.  i still love the Monte Carlo, and truly, they have never stolen my money.

the next day, Sunday, i stayed awake.  god knows why.  i went to eat breakfast with Alan and Darren; we did some sight seeing, walked the Strip.  we returned to the hotel and i went to find Rick at the pool.  most of the groups’ flights left around 6, so everyone was starting to think about getting ready to go.  Rick asked me if i wanted to get something to eat, and, of course, i agreed.  we sat in the brewery, and he said, “so about last night.”  i cut him off with a tattered and babble-y comment about how he didn’t need to be embarrassed…that it was the drugs…what happens in Vegas…blah, blah, blah. 

he cut me off and said, “Melissa, I didn’t ask you to have sex with me.  You’re not really my type.”

OUCH!  and my very very clever response was, “well…i guess i’m the one who should be embarrassed then.  my apologies.”

nevertheless, Rick and i spent the remaining hours trying to be alone.  Rick finally figured something out and asked if he could shower in my room.  he showered.  i did everything in my grasp not to try and join him in there.  he came out, and we stumbled over our goodbyes.  i told him again that i was sorry for the confusion, and that i really enjoyed his company.  and to my enormous surprise, he kissed me.  a wonderful, sensual kiss; he even licked my lip just a little.  it took my breath away.  and he said, “i was wondering what it would feel like to kiss your lips with that lipring in.  it’s nice.”  i’m not sure i spoke.

most of my new friends left that evening.  my flight wasn’t until 7:15am the next morning.  at that point, i no longer had a hotel room, so i decided to stay awake all night that night too.  i roamed the Strip, went back to Seven (Sunday wasn’t their best night), and eventually ended up at a Blackjack table.  i think i put down $80.  i don’t know because it lasted me all night long.  at 6:15 i was on a serious winning streak.  i could not leave the table.  i told myself i would leave when i lost two times in a row.  at 6:40, i panicked.  at 6:50, i asked the pit boss to call me a cab–have it waiting.  i left the cage with $640.

believe it or not, i made it to the gate before 7:15.  unfortunately, Northwest Airlines has a policy that they will give away your seat if you are not there 10 minutes before departure.  the plane was still at the gate, but i wasn’t allowed to get on it.  i had been awake for 45 hours and i wouldn’t get to sleep for another 3.

arrangements were made.  coffee was drunk.  it took 3 flights and a three hour drive to get home. 

i was exhausted. 

and i had fallen head over heels with the City of Sin.

Hello world! Wednesday, October 31 2007

So, the deal is that I sit in front of a computer for many hours every day.  I can’t say I would be a blogger by nature, but I’m interested in this mode of recollecting the world.  I’ve had a few amazing things happen to me in the past year or so and I want to remember them.  And I want to pass them on to whoever might read such a silly little journal.

 This is for Nate.