One of my dearest friends, Libby Bulloff, is embarking tomorrow on a new leg of life. She has always been leagues ahead of me in ability of written pontification, but I’ll do my best.
Libby rocks worlds. A woman who has spent the vast majority of her life in the Midwest, she has taken the few tools available to her and built more complex – and better functioning – mechanisms than any other person I have met. She sees what needs to be done, and does it. Often at a sacrifice to herself, but also with great pride in all that she does. Libby is invested – invested in her work, in those around her, in the world. And in every piece of work, in every interaction, you see that passion.
Libby has deeply impacted me. When we first met, I was quiet, mousy, and subdued in general. She helped me remember the shiny bits, the intellectual bits, the joy of doing something well just because you wanted to do it. And the fact that she wanted anything at all to do with me boosted my confidence more than I might be able to express. She taught me about the subculture I had already grown to love, that you can be serious and goofy and unconquerable and approachable all at the same time.
Libby, you are amazing. And I can’t wait to see what you choose to spend your time on. I hope some of it is with me. Being in the same city again will be phenomenal. Best of luck in your travels, and I hope you find excitement but also relaxation at every turn.
I spent this weekend in the arms of passion. I’m not talking about bedroom adventures, I’m talking about the Art-A-Thon. Little Red Studio held a 24-hour event where space was given to practice, create, eat, drink, dance, talk, whatever. A room full of people who are passionate about what they do and what they create. No pretension. Unabashed geekery.
And it got me to thinking (along with a conversation I had with Bergen) about filters. With the astounding exception of this past weekend and an incredibly small percentage of even my closest friends, I am constantly filtering myself. Keeping the squee within. The dark humor as only a small inward smile. The sexuality subdued. The pointless (?) stories to a minimum. The comicbook geek, the computer nerd, the sociologist to a passing comment, an inside joke. Sure, there are people that I can express one or even two of these aspects in full, but not the full-on package.
This weekend those around me saw my desire to give of myself – to tell stories and hear stories, to help with their art even though I am still too shy to make my own (long story there), to give massage after massage, to pick up whatever task was forgotten – as my art. No one thought it was cutsie or creepy when I would follow a comment about how awesome balloons are with a dead baby joke.
I have never felt so welcomed, so loved, so accepted as I do there. I cried from happiness at the closing ceremony. Thank you.
I’ve been having a fair number of conversations lately about what it is to be in love with someone who is bad for you. And more poignantly, what is it to still think about them regularly, despite all the shit they put you through.
Quite often, they’re incredible people. They are charming, witty, and of course devilishly handsome. Quirky in all the right ways. Too often, it’s not who they (or you) are, per se, but who you become around each other. This is something I’ve been realizing… just because of the Bad Shit that happened, that I was involved in, it doesn’t mean that I’m A Bad Person. But then do you also have to make the same allowances for them? It’s too easy to demonize someone to legitimize difficult decisions.
I would guess that what we really want is some closure. But with those people, the feelings you have are so intense that you can’t just walk away. Something Drastic has to happen instead. But then you always wonder, it always picks at the back of your brain… what if that hadn’t happened? No matter how established the cycle was, cycles are meant to be broken, right?
“It’s nothing but time and a face that you lose”
I don’t have regrets, only questions.
So this is me baring a bit of my soul. A good friend recently told me that emotions are important things, and I really have been trying to pay attention to mine recently. But that means dusting off so many things I had filed away through logic. Having all this alone time forces introspection, which often hurts more than expected. But it builds character, right? It’s all just back story…
I live with the most amazing awesome people ever.
This morning has already provided a treasure hunt.
I would like to tell the internets that I love you both very much.
I am full of cheese today!
I had an amazing time last night, meeting a few new people, actually getting some time with others that haven’t had enough of my time, accidentally grabbing Cliff’s crotch (sorry!), playing Guillotine, etc.
Came home, read some House with Matt.
Thought has lead me to believe that The Infinite Improbability Drive is probably my favorite plot device ever.
Everyone who is getting sick or is sick : stop it. I would have a chicken soup party but then you’d all infect each other and incubate zombie-ism or something.