Things I Love Thursday - Part 40

It struck me this morning as I was snug on the train with my Hunter boots on and my umbrella and my husband right next to me all dry and safe and going to my JOB that it wasn't always this way.  I keep my past close, and one thing that I keep super close is that last year before getting sober.

That last year I lived in a Chicago Public Park, on a bench.  It was my home base, if you can call it that.  By my choice. I pushed everyone away and chose to drink over anything and anyone else.  I begged for money for vodka. The gut rot, cheapest vodka.  I walked around a lot.  I walked around in a stupor as I was drunk all the time.  I drank around the clock to keep myself medicated.  I didn't want to feel or see what was happening.  I remember vividly how people looked at me.  The way moms walking with children looked at me, or tried to avoid looking at me.  The way people walking to the train to go to work looked at me.  Walked around me giving me a wide berth, as they didn't know what I was capable of.   It was a terrible, lonely, never ending existence. 

I keep that time close as I am now so desirous of a baby.  I once had no home.  I once had no self respect or self esteem or love in my life.  No stability.  No self worth.  So when I say that a baby would be icing, I mean, a baby would be icing on the cake that is my INCREDIBLE life today.  When I say life is so good, I mean it with every ounce of my being.  LIFE IS SO GOOD.  I am so grateful I didn't die.  I am so grateful to be sober.  I am so grateful that I am here to experience what is so incredible and worthwhile and what I was searching for all my life but didn't even know what it was until it found me. 

Having a home, a job, a husband who loves me, my family being proud of me and getting to be involved in their lives, but most of all - above all the external stuff - having the self worth I always craved and drank because I couldn't find it within me, THAT is the Thing I Love this Thursday.  SELF WORTH.  Elusive and fleeting.  When you find it, grab it by the balls and hang on tight.  Work for it.  Do the hard work.  It doesn't come easy when you've lost so much.  And it takes time.  It takes a long time to heal and to experience that self love and worth you never ever knew until now.  YOU are so worthy.  Make yourself worthy.  Be worthy. 

I have flashes from time to time of people looking at me as if I am not worthy.  And I don't even let it get to me for second.  I look them right back in the eye, no head down walking away quickly.  I AM HERE.  And I am worthy.  And I will look you in the eyes with pride and self worth.  What you do with that is your choice.  I choose every day to hold my head up and carry on with the grace and dignity that I have worked so hard to achieve and that was so lovingly given to me to pass along. 

They call me The Raging Owl-coholic

I was kind of a bad ass figure skater (shakes head, NO, I wasn't bad ass at all) with kick ass wings and bangs.

We played a game on the FB page a while back where I asked y'all what would be a good Roller Derby name for yours truly, and as usual, you cracked my shit up.

Needless to say, I'm obsessed with Roller Derby, ever since my figure skating days, I've wanted to try it, and I think I may have the balls (so to say) to do it at this point in my life. 

This is a game we could play forever.  Tell me what your name would be. 

You Should Really Fix Your Teeth

I really wasn't that good.

I was a teenage Gleek.  I was in choir from the time I was a wee awkward chubby girl.  And on it went until my junior year of High School when my Choir Director told me I should audition for the musical.  It was Anything Goes. 

I did.  I auditioned.  FOR THE CHORUS.  Because it never EVER occurred to me that I could be anything other than in THE CHORUS. 

Then the Director called my mom at home and asked if I could audition for one of the leads instead of just the chorus.  I flipped the hell out.  My mom encouraged me.  And I did.  And I got the part.  Talk about heady.  Look, Theatre and Chorus kids were not the cool kids at our High School.  But in that circle, to be a lead in a musical, meant I was PRETTY. HOT. SHIT. 

Hope Harcourt in Anything Goes.  That's me on the right, sailor dress, bad perm, shoulder pads.  Who cares that it was a 1920's show?  The set designer had to specially design rails on the "boat" set for me to hold onto while singing my solos, because I was so spastic and couldn't stand still while singing.

I started watching Glee because I am absolutely a geek and a glee club kid and a nerd and musically and theatrically gifted.  In certain ways.  But in many, more important ways, I was just not very good. 

Rachel Berry on Glee

I won't say I was a Rachel Berry, because I didn't have a pinkie's worth of her talent, but the yearning and the passion she has for the stage and performing, I had that.  For a long time.  With the figure skating for years and years and then the couple years of high school theatre under my belt, I was ready to conquer the world.  To become an actress.  And, I didn't want to be famous, I just wanted to do my CRAFT.  To perform and have people recognize the genius of my ability in the THEATRE.  AHEM AHEM AHEM. 

Every single high school has these kids.  These kids that are special at this one thing.  The football hero, the math genius, the Prom Queen.

I told my parents I wouldn't go to College, as I was Broadway Bound.  Not Los Angeles, that wasn't for me.  I longed to be on the stage.  And honestly, I did at that time.  My dad said, NO FUCKING WAY (not in those words, but close) are you not going to college, so we compromised and I went to school for theatre.  I have a B.S. in Acting.  Hold the snickering down please. 

Stage Left.  I even got to have a baby bump in part of this one.  The Baker's Wife in Into the Woods.

College was a battle.  I wasn't that good and the deck was stacked against me as there were politics and talent at play and I didn't really get many good shows and parts.  Also, I was super nervous and didn't play the game very well.  I wasn't a victim and it's not "poor me".  That's just how it was.  The Theatre School experience is a post for another day.  Or many posts.  Anyway.....

I graduated college and went out to a ton of auditions and got a few parts in Chicago theatre for a few years.  I got a couple agents, although they basically told me I was generic and needed to get my teeth fixed.  I waited tables and became a drunk.  I was living the dream! 

Into the Woods AGAIN as the Ugly Stepsister(s) in the pink.  Long story. 

And it was fun.  And it was what I wanted.  Until it wasn't.  And then one day I realized, I don't even enjoy doing this anymore.  So I just didn't go to auditions anymore.  I didn't look at the Hotlines for notices.  All of this coincided with me becoming a serious drunk, mind you, and the last show I did I was in a COMPLETE black out.  I read reviews of this show in the paper, talking about how good my performance was, and I had NO MEMORY of it. 

The worst part of acting for me at least, was auditioning.  There was a scene in the last Glee where Rachel was up on stage and flubbed a song for an important audition.  Even if you've never had to audition for anything, you cringed for her.  I've done that flub.  A few times.  And it is MORTIFYING.  I dream of these times now a few times a week.  No lie.  I wonder if it will ever go away.   If I feel like doing it again, I always can.  I just heven't felt the need, the desire, the passion to do it again, so I figure, why force it?  Chicago is a great city for theatre, and my dear husband happens to be a big shot Director.  He is really good.  He is way better at acting and directing than I ever was at acting.   

There are many reasons I love my life today.  One of the main reasons is that I no longer have to audition for any part.  I don't have to pretend in any part of my life in order to escape.  Not through acting, and not through alcohol.  I've gotten the part I never dreamed I was good enough for, and that is being exactly who I am in my own skin.  Oh, and I never got my teeth fixed.  Fuck all that bullshit.  I am good enough just as I am. 

TOM'S A Day WITHOUT Shoes Challenge

My company hauled our asses up to the 103rd floor of the Sears Tower sans shoes to do this thing for Tom's - One Day Without Shoes.  Here, for your enjoyment, are Leigh Anne and Young Jonathan. And me, of course.  All acting like idiots. 

To be fair, this laying down and taking the picture from above from YJ's idea.  I didn't look down the entire time up there. 

 Yup, that would be me hiding behind him.  Who knew he was taller than me?

 I love my city.

 Not even out there yet.  Too skeered.

 YJ was even more scared than we were I think.  He tried to play it cool.

 This is my other young friend, Justin.  He was fearless up there.

 NO WAY.  NOT DOING IT.

OK, here's a little fake forced, I ain't skeered smile.

I don't know what y'all are so afraid of.  This is nothin'.

Mr. Cool.

We did it!  Holding hands like two proper old biddies. 

Excuse Me, I'm Trying to Avoid You

We have a problem.  You are on the train or the bus in the morning going into work.  YOU SEE SOMEONE YOU KNOW.  Either you work with this person or you know them from a one night stand or they fired your ass for passing out drunk in the lobby of the Prudential Tower, or you know,  they are somebody's sister or something totally and ridiculously uncomfortable.  Whatever.  WHAT DO YOU DO?

It's a problem that many before and many after me will encounter and never quite know how to handle without being incredibly rude or incredibly passive aggressive. That's not in my wheelhouse, the passive aggressive thing, so incredibly rude is usually how it rears it's ugly head. I usually will say something like, "I'm sorry, but I really need to just chill for a while before going into work, do you mind if I read/listen to This American Life (people love it when you drop the NPR bomb. It makes you seem super smart and worldly, not stuffy at all or pretentious in any way).



If you don't feel comfortable throwing out the LEAVE ME ALONE AND LET ME CHILL FOR 5 FUCKING MINUTES BEFORE CROSSING THE THRESHOLD OF HELL, here's a helpful list to get you back to your headphones and that glorious Weird Al music you so enjoy at the butt crack of dawn to get you pumped up for the day.

1. Wear a disguise each and every day.  We all know about fake mustaches.  Even finger mustaches can work in a pinch, but by god do SOMETHING.  I like bonnets myself. 



See?  None of you would know this handsome devil is actually Mel Gibson in a clever disguise.


2. Bring a cat with you.  Preferably in a stroller, a la Sally Boy here,



People love cats.  I find.  Especially when on public transportation.  And they especially love when you do something creepy and weird like make them cradle your widdle biddy baby boy and swaddle him and ask if you want to kiss the teeny widdle baby.

3. Act like you are a blind person.  Seriously.  I've seen it work on my favorite show, Pretty Little Liars.  Jenna here, is blind or isn't really blind, from an explosion the gang rigged to go off, but they didn't really think Jenna would be in there, and NOW, they all have to pay for what they've done.  And make sure you use one of those sticks because that really makes people stay away from you.  I mean, who wants to help a blind person with anything?



Shhhhhhhhhh.  These dark glasses will make anyone rethink approaching you and entering into a conversation.  And, you can just glare at people with a scowl.

4. Fake an accent.  Act like the person trying to talk to you must have you confused with someone else.  Similar to point number 1. up there, the disguise, a fake accent not only shows how worldly you are, but it's effective in making people feel absolutely crazy. Which they love.  I find the more stereotypes you can employ, the better.  Give it a try.  And for God's sake, BE LOUD.  Everyone knows foreigners are loud. 

So you see, there are several different tactics you may employ in keeping your personal space on public transit.  And if all else, fails, just quietly start saying, "Oh no, oh god no, OH NO NO NO NO, NOT HERE.  NOT NOW!"  While starting to move around really uncomfortably and covering your bottom. 

You are welcome, everybody. 

Things I Love Thursday - Part 32

I just got to walk back from my doctor to the office on a beautiful day in Chicago.  And DAMN let me just say I LOVE MY CITY. 



This Marilyn statue is next to the Wrigley Building.  It's huge.  And I still don't know how I feel about her. 

 It is a treat to be able to live, work and play in this gorgeous city.  My doctor is in my old neighborhood, right off Michigan Avenue, or the Magnificent Mile, as people like to call it.  I lived in an area called Streeterville.  I lived in a high rise, more like a hotel really.  After running away from a relationship and living situation I stayed in way too long in 2005, I finally got out on my own at 32 years old and lived on my own for a few years.  It was odd in that it was a tiny studio apartment that I paid way too much in rent for, but I had to get out on my own and I had to do it in a place that was available NOW. 

While I was walking back from the doctor today, I saw an old (she says with all respect) woman who lived in my building walking down the street.  She always had a huge smile and was cute as a button, and I was so happy to see her, I gave her a huge smile and may have scared her a bit.  It was just nice to know she's still out and about and enjoying herself. 

What this TILT is really about though are the feelings I had while walking through that area.  From smiling to crying in one block, I realized how grateful I am for my home and my family today.  I talked a bit about being homeless for a while in this Fancy Pants Big Shot post I did last week, but I don't really talk about that much as I feel like it was another lifetime for me.  However, when I walk around and encounter homeless folks who clearly have many issues going on, I feel among them.  They are my people.  I wonder if that will ever change?  I hope it doesn't, as it keeps me firmly planted in my reality.

My reality is if I drink, if I don't carefully watch my sobriety and do the things I need to do to maintain a spiritual program of health, I will lose everything and wind up homeless again.  I am of these people. 

I then got to thinking about my husband and our home.  Our little apartment that is so full of love and fun and safety that I got teary eyed.  As I go through this journey of trying to have a baby with my true love and life partner I am so filled with gratitude that I am exactly where I should be and with exactly the right and only person for me.  I never had that feeling my entire life.  I didn't have it with the man I married once upon a time a long time ago, and I never had it in any other relationship. 

Having a roof over my head is a gift I never take for granted, not for one second.  Having a home with a man who loves me so much and helps me feel that love and partnership every day, is a gift I still can't quite believe is happening to me sometimes.  I know I'm worthy, it's not that I feel unworthy.  I just can't quite believe that I have all of this love and security in my life.  We can lose everything, and we might, any day - we just don't know.  But for right now, in this moment, I am cherishing what I have and who I have and feeling such gratitude my heart is bursting.

And yes, I am a bit emotional lately.  Smiles.  I love every second of this life and I am so grateful I am alive to see what happens next. 



And there is my bus!  But I'm going to walk a bit.



Things I Love Thursday - Part 31

Meeting People is Easy.  Thanks Radiohead*. 

I LOVE being excited to meet new people. It still terrifies me, and being on no anxiety drugs or alcohol or smokes anymore causes me to be a bit, shall we say, AWKWARD about meeting new people.

I have the honor of meeting some fellow bloggers this weekend at the St. Baldricks Baldathon. Sheila from Mary Tyler Mom (who's lovely daughter Donna is the inspiration for her starting all this raising money for Pediatric Cancer business); Deb at The Monster in Your Closet; Karin at Pinwheels and Poppies; Chris at From the Bungalow; Nikki at Moms Who Drink and Swear and Sam from Tripping While Standing Still (She is interviewing for a new jobby and can't shave now, but all monies still go to the charity.  Blog in construction, but stay tuned, it's good!)

Kids with Cancer are the reason we've all gathered together, and some are shaving their heads and we have worked TIRELESSLY to get money donated.  I've given money and I will continue to give money and shout outs and share this info as much as I can because it's so important. 

So, we know what the real mission of this event is.  Now, on to the totally superficial part of it.  I've never met these folks in real life.  I'm mortified when meeting people I admire, especially writers because I FREAK THE FUCK OUT.  I geek out for writers.  I met Augusten Burroughs and I squeeeeeed my underpants.  Seriously.  Just a little bit, but still.

"Katy, Live well and Best Wishes"  SWOON.  One of my "grab if building is on fire" possessions.

I am awkward in person you guys. Sure, I can be witty and cute online, but when you meet me in person, I am a spaz and a half.  I know it's hard to believe.  Now, I've read a ton of people telling Sheila that she should have a drink to calm her nerves at the event.  I don't have that luxury, so it's going to be full on spaz and sheepish drooling over meeting some of these writers and humans I admire so much.

Here's the scene, here's how it's going to go down.  I meet Sheila and the Gang (fresh new musical group!) and I WILL be sweating profusely.  I will have my ecig in my hand at all times, cleverly hidden so that no one will know what it is and may get nervous it's some kind of illegal camera or something. 



"Can you speak up please?  I can't quite hear you."

 I WILL stutter and say, "NICE" a lot.  Repeatedly.  I will hug and touch your hair.  I will want to lick your face.  But I won't do it. I will want to hook arms with you and walk around.  I will want to pet and stroke your hair.  I will drink 8300 Diet Cokes.  I will have to pee constantly.  I will tell you how much I admire you and how beautiful you are.  Even the boys.  I will pet and stroke your bald head after it is shaved for this great cause.  I will want to giggle and whisper secrets and be best friends forever.  I will cry.  I will.  Then, I will act all cool and aloof and charming and sexy as hell a la Joanie Holloway in my new leopard print dress I bought for the occasion.

So, if you survive all of this and still want to be my "friend" and read my work, I salute you.  Here's a tip, you may want to bring your dog whistle to call me off you or your friends. 

This event is going to be great you guys.  It's a bonus to be excited to meet great new people I admire.  You could say it's a THING I LOVE THURSDAY.

*Man, I love me some Radiohead.

I am a Fancy Pants Big Shot

Look at this nonsense. 

that girl right there is a big shot. She makes all kinds of important things happen with important people.  Mostly though, she makes an important but happy fool of herself.  Blurrily.  OH EM GEE.  FANCY BATHROOM SHOT.

I've been living large for two days at a conference of Global Leaders that my boss leads.  He's a really big shot,  I'm just a normal sized big shot. 

We are here:

GENTLY SPARKLING water.  I can't even begin to tell you how much that full on sparkling water grinds my gears.

The Peninsula Chicago.  It's a super fancy schmancy hotel in the city. 

Now, I grew up having nice things and my dad worked really hard in order to take us on nice vacations and we stayed in fancy places and ate in fancy restaurants and we got to experience a lot of really high class stuff, for which I'm grateful.

HOWEVER,  when I became a classy drunk, I became homeless and desperate and lived in a public park for the better part of a year.  So I feel safe in saying that I've lived the extremes.  I know we had more than most growing up.  I also know I had less than nothing as an adult, and now am somewhere in the middle where I am more than comfortable, and so grateful for everything I have.   I talk about gratitude a lot. Because I never take any of my life for granted.  Not for one second.  

BACK TO BEING A BIG SHOT.

ahem ahem ahem.

I have had a team of 5 people waiting hand and foot on my ass for 2 days.  There is one dude, who literally hustles up these stairs at least 3 times an hour.  He is constantly sweating.  He is awesome.  He says, "I love my job!"  with a big grin on his face every time he gets to the top of the stairs as he looks at me and the least I can do is give him a big grin back.  

The guys here at the meeting are all big shots in their particular part of the world, and we are kind of like my favorite ride, IT'S A SMALL WORLD AFTER ALL ride.  Did I ever tell you about the time I saw Sir Paul McCartney on that ride?  I did?  Oh well, never mind then. 

I love my job, that is no secret.  I love my boss.  That is the key.  But some of these other dudes are fascinating.  I watch them come out each break to get on their phones, run down the stairs and pace back and forth to make their important calls, some in other languages and all very very URGENT. 

My boss comes out and chats with me and has some of my macadamia nuts here on my little desk the entire time.  DAMN YOU MACADAMIA NUTS AND YOUR DELICIOUSNESS DAMN YOU STRAIGHT TO HELL.

and these chocolate rock candies:

that are EVERYWHERE.

These guys at this meeting infuriate me and make me sad at the same time.  I have a soft spot for them because my dad was a business man who travelled all the time and worked really really hard to provide such a good life for his family.  But he was rarely home.  And I see these guys doing the same thing.  Some are so sweet and crazy about their kids, it melts your heart.  They want to show me pictures and tell me all about soccer and mathletics and Jimmy getting his driver's license.  Other guys are just all business.  They don't have a chink in their armor.  I can respect that.  I am that way a lot of the time too.  I don't show my cards.  If someone sees my phone with the picture of Eliza and Sally and a Christopher on it, I don't give away that they are my most favoritest creatures on the planet.  I almost don't give away how fucking desperate we are to have a baby because everyone asks and then it gets uncomfortable. I don't give away that I drink diet coke with lime instead of wine at dinner like everyone else in the room.  That I walk out to the ladies room and suck on my ecig for a moment of grace and sanity and serenity among the craziness that is just another dinner for most of them.  I guess what it comes down to is I love my job, but I am not OF my job. 

I have learned much in my 10 years here.  I don't have to fight every battle. I wrote about that here.

I can appreciate and see these people for more than what they project as an image.  My husband would say I probably give them more credit than they deserve, and maybe I do, but life is a lot easier that way.  And isn't that the goal?  Life is hard enough.  We can all cut each other a break.  Sigh.  Can you feel that?  Maybe it's all the pampering and delicious food I've eaten the past two days, but damn, it feels good to be a gangsta.  Wait.  What I mean is it feels good to just go through my days lately without the anxiety and the justified anger I used to carry around like a lead weight.  Without the need for the constant defending of myself and what I think you need to know about me.  To just exist feels pretty damn liberating.  To feel confident about who I am and the work I do is gratifying.  I've worked hard to get here.  Yeah sure, FIGHT THE POWER and DOWN WITH THE CORPORATIONS and all that, but really?  Thank you for my job and my paycheck and my benefits.  I don't need to fight this anymore.  It is so much more gratifying to accept it and be thankful for all I have been given.

All of this is to say, I am no big shot.  I don't want to be a big shot. It tickles me to say I'm a big shot because I am a tiny little cog in the machine.  And that suits me just fine today. 

I save my fabulousness for my real life. 

Things I Love Thursday - Part 27

Guess what?  I LOVE ELEVATOR SPAZ DANCING! 

Now it's become a "thing" over at the Facebook page.  And because it's that page's 6 month anniversary, I am going to re-share the fun over here. If I ever get in an elevator by myself, you know I am taking a pic of spaz dancing for you guys.  There have been 4 pictures in 6 months, so you know how rare it is to land in a Tower elevator by oneself. 

And yes, Security at the Tower, they love me.  I'm like their special little sister.  Something about a small space, covered in mirror and I can't help myself!  I MUST DANCE. 

And because I'm a big ol' spaz, THIS is what that looks like. 

Right now we have 6,278 Divers over there.  And MOST of them are so great that I can't imagine what I ever did before carrying them all around in my pocket at all times.  

If you feel so moved, share your own elevator spaz dancing photos on the Facebook wall over there. 

We would love it. 

Now, LET'S DANCE!

If those don't make you feel how much I love you all being here, I don't know what will. 

Joy, baby.  PURE JOY.  It's a SPAZABRATION. 

Thanks everybody for reading the blog and playing the FB page.  xo, Katy

Beware the Taffy Pull on the Train

Train riding.  DH is sitting right next to me but THERE WILL BE BLOOD if I post any pictures of him, so just picture how cute he is sitting next to me, M'kay?

We live in Chicago.  We have a pretty great transit system here, The Chicago Transit Authority, which my smarty pants husband tells me what the original name of the band, Chicago, until people got all uppity with them about rights and such and they just went with "Chicago".

Anyway, we mostly take the Brown Line these days as we live on Sesame Street and the cute little train station is literally right across the street.  It zips us downtown in about 40 minutes if all goes smoothly. 

It's pretty cool that after 20 years of taking the CTA, I still get a kick outta going over the Chicago River when we get into the Loop.  I just do.  And at night too when it's all lit up?  Gorgeous. 

This is a status I posted yesterday, and inspired this post, as it's pretty incredible:

I just emailed DH that I left my bag with my lunch and Spinning clothes on the train and got all the way to the office before I realized. Ran back to the platform, not really sure why, but lo and behold, there was my bag just sitting on the platform. I'm sure someone was yelling at me about it when I walked off, but earphones, you know? Now I just will be paranoid that there's anthrax or gingivitis some shit in all my food. God Dammit.


Anyway, DH's response is "do I need to pin your keys to your coat when you leave the house?" I said, "No, I have my keys, asshole. LOVE YOU". THE END. *curtsies*

I'm still pretty amazed that happened.  And that my husband is so god damn funny. 

Now, there are some crazy things that have happened over the years in my experience on the train.  Back in the day, I would ride in blackouts and not remember a thing.  At 3am, by myself.  MIRACLES have happened in my life.  I know.

The rush hour commute is all just hipsters and yuppies and folks like us schlepping back and forth to work.  The real fun happens on nights and weekends.  That's the CTA money shot, if you will.  And I look forward to going out late or on off times, as it increases the chance for crazy.

The most concerning story I have is back when I lived in Oak Park, which is just west of the City. Morning commute, roughly 7:30am.  Packed train.  Me, sitting by window, guy sits next to me on the aisle.  With a newspaper.  I was reading a book, so I didn't pay any attention until the newspaper started making noises and started bobbing up and down rapidly.  Yes, this dude was having a taffy pull right next to me.  I looked up and saw horrified passengers looking at me.  I will never forget this woman's face and she mouthed, "GET UP".  And I did.  I got up and off the train and told an Officer what had happened, but the train was already off to the next stop. 

Needless to say, I don't trust any guy who reads a newspaper on the train now.  I GOT EYES ON YOU, BUB. 

I have a little friend who loves to ride the train because when she's sitting, she gets the perfect view of a standing gentleman's package.   Little perv.  Whatever floats your boat, right?

There are many reasons the city is great, and the CTA is just one.  You don't get the up close and personal crazy anywhere else.  Most days it's fine, but sometimes if you are lucky you get a truly heartwarming or gut wrenching story.  I actually like the crazy, I crave the crazy.  But I don't get it as much as I used to.  Maybe I'm not putting myself in dangerous situations as much as I used to and that kinda makes me feel old and sad.  But in another way, it makes me feel like I'm maturing and taking care of myself.  I used up about 8 lives when I was drinking, so I need to make this 9th one last. 

I will pass on the public taffy pulling, but I would take some crazy Jesus nonsense spouting now and then.  I have to seek out the crazy on the train these days.  But they still find me - on the street and in the alley - in my life. Sometimes in my mirror.  I attract the crazy.  I'm grateful for that.  Keeps me on my toes. 

Well, this is my stop.  Keep your pervy ball-balls to yourself Mister.  Or at least in your pants.  Nobody wants to see that.  Especially not at 7:30 in the god damned morning. 

It's the Young Jonathan and Katy Awkward Variety Show!

Here we go Divers!  Just for you an interview with Young Jonathan, my co-worker and pain in my ass.  But really just makes my days so much more fun.  I am so very awkward and bouncy and nodding like a total spaz and say "nice" 800 times.  Enjoy!

The Original Joanie Holloway



Meet my Grammie.

Let's talk about how fierce this is.  Name on desk, working woman, smokes and IN CONTROL.  Sounds like another fierce 1960's icon I know and love.

There is a reason I am so enamoured of Joanie Holloway Harris here, of Mad Men.  It is in large part that she reminds me of my Grammie.  I feel a deep dark love hate and sorrowful yearning for both these woman.  Grammie died a few years ago.  Crazed and alone, save for our little immediate family.  And yet, there was a time, when she was the Norma Desmond of her world.  And anyone who had the good fortune of entering into it. 

I am pasting some old writing I did about Grammie here.  Those portions will be indented, written by me around 2004, and I was really angry with her.  She didn't approve of me getting sober.  She just didn't understand it and gave me a hard time about it.  My perspective about her today is so different than it was almost a decade ago. 



Grammie brought a party with her everywhere she went. and we LOVED it.

I have her on my heart right now as NOBODY loved Christmas more than Grammie.  She could forget all the terrible facts of reality, largely due to her creating them, and focus on love and abundance.  Her two favorite things. 

There is no easy, understandable way to describe or understand why my Grammie is the way she is. No more than trying to explain why I am or why you are the way you are, however, the impact of her behavior on the people she loves, well, the only people left in her life after a lifetime of loving and pushing away are my immediate family. She was married and divorced four times, twice to the same man, my grandfather, my dad’s dad.

I come from fucking gorgeous yet totally screwed up, alcoholic, Irish Catholic stock.  Only my dad didn't drink.  Went right to me.  I'm grateful I'm the first to get recovery in my family.

My Grammie was as selfish as they come, some of which I know I have in me. She should never have had a child because she was a lonely lost child herself and never could care ultimately about anyone but herself. The reason she would make a “friend” or a lover was strictly about what she could get from them for herself. She was gorgeous, have I mentioned that?

 

Let's talk about this waist, please.



An absolute beauty – movie star quality - some said Elizabeth Taylor-esque - and men flocked to her. She loved it - loved the attention and the devotion. She grew to expect that devotion and attention from every person in her life. Especially her son. But she left him when he was a small child to move and pursue her own interests. She left him with various relatives and abusive men who hoped to be in her favor. My dad was the only child she ever had and she really wanted him to be a girl. She used to curl his hair and put blush on his cheeks. Although he made a pretty girl, he made an even more handsome boy and grew up relatively unaffected by his unusual childhood.



My dad and Grammie. Totally posed. Wonder where I get it from?

Grammie, for a period of time, lived by herself in a condo on Lakeshore Drive in Chicago.  The Pink Building.  You know it.  And she was a manicurist to the stars, including Frank Sinatra.  Who, let's just say was charmed by her and vice versa.  All while she had a child in the world, who was passed along to relatives to take care of while she lived the high life.  She wanted a son only when it was convenient for her and when it served her purposes.

Grammie and my dad, later on in life, she had to pose as if she was looking at him in every photo. My dad HATED that.



Grammie and baby Katy. She finally got her baby girl. Also, she tried to give me her menagerie of furs through the years. She didn't approve of me being a vegetarian.





Grammie dressed up as a nurse the day my little brother was coming home from being born. She loved making a production out of things. Look how geeked out excited I am about all this.

I don’t know if she ever truly loved, but boy did she lose. She pushed so hard and asked for so much that everyone she had eventually left her. Now she is alone and only my dad and mom go and visit her. 

That was again, in 2003 or 2004.  She was living in a nursing home close to my parents, and was completely out of her mind.  She was ALWAYS delusional.  From the time I remember as a child she brought fun and fantasy and luxury with her.  When Grammie came to visit, it was always a good time.  She and I would go shopping and to lunch and do our nails and she would encourage me to wear make up and dress up at all times.  AT ALL TIMES.  And if I didn't look up to snuff she made sure she let me know.  I can only imagine the hell my dad went through with that superficial bullshit as a child. 

She lost everything. Most of all her beauty and this is what I understand. That is where all this sadness and loss of control for her begins. She lost her beauty, which means she lost the adoration of thousands and then she slowly lost her own money trying to hold on to it and get it all back. Now she is just lonely and sad and mean. She doesn’t want me to succeed and be happy because she is not.

Do I fear losing my looks? You bet I do. I don’t underestimate for one minute how much the way I look has helped me in my life. I know I am smart and capable and all of that other crap, but I am beautiful and in this world of ours, that is what really matters. You may think me superficial, but it is a tool, just like money that can be used to get what I want and she knows this. She knows (or thinks she does) that once I lose my beauty I will have nothing just like her. But that is where she is wrong. I do have more than her because I take the time to invest in myself and in other people. I don’t make friends because of what I can get from them.

Since I have been sober, I have learned the hard way that friends and family are the most important and enduring relationships I have and without them, I have nothing. I don’t have to be beautiful on the outside to be fulfilled on the inside. Does it help? Sure, am I going to fade quietly into non-prettiness? No way, I like being pretty. It is fun and it is what came naturally to me. I don’t abuse as I used to though. And it is not all I have.

I hate my Grammie. As much as I feel that hatred for her I feel love and sadness and understanding for her more than anyone else could imagine. The reason for this is that she and I are so much alike. Or we used to be. Our relationship has changed forever since I got sober and learned how important people’s insides are. She never learned that lesson and now, I don’t think she ever will. She used to love being with me because we were two gorgeous ladies against the world. We could both wield our feminine wiles and the men would flock. Well, I don’t work like that anymore and she doesn’t like it one bit.


One of our last pictures together.



I don’t hate my Grammie. I hope that before she dies she finds some kind of peace and gratitude for what she has had in her life and not to just keep asking for more, more, more. Sometimes there just isn’t any more and we just need to be grateful for what we have.

She’s going to be a selfish bitch until her dying day, but at least I understand why she is that selfish bitch. I’ve learned a whole lot about young beauty and how that inevitably fades. What we are left with is what we have inside and those we have surrounded ourselves with. What a lesson you have taught me Grammie, I don’t want to go out like you. Alone and lonely because of pushing people away. Thank you for showing me that.

Interesting how perspective changes after years go by. Now, I really only remember the good stuff. The fun Grammie stuff and not the abusive way she talked to my dad and then to me. I am not mortified as I used to be when she got arrested when I was just 16 and we were at a shoe store and I had to call my dad to bail her out for shoplifting.
I feel so much compassion for her today. She was so lonely and filled with longing. Talk about a hole in the soul. She depended on men and their attention for EVERYTHING. She relied on sex appeal and charm for everything, much like our girl Joanie Holloway. They were both so much better than that. Partly due to the times, and partly due to low self esteem, these women relied on men for everything.

If Grammie only knew how valuable she was in teaching me these great lessons, completely different lessons than she meant to teach me, she would probably be horrified and say, "no no no, that's not what I meant!". I watched and I learned Grammie. I learned what not to do and what to do as a smart and capable woman. You taught me to love and appreciate luxury and beauty. And I miss you right now at Christmas. Terribly, actually.