Friday, May 28, 2004
May 26, 2004, 11:17 pm lying down on the futon after watching Seinfeld:
May 27, 2004, 10:00 pm lying down on the futon after watching Pink Floyd Live at Pompeii:
May 28, 2004, 5:23 pm after finding a message on my phone from Tim's mom (she hasn't heard from him since he went to Hawaii):
Certain things just aren't good for me. Fortunately, Pink Floyd and Seinfeld aren't those things.
Posted by Ann on 05/28/04@05:42 PM CST ..::Link::..Whisper or Scream?
Tuesday, May 25, 2004
Do you ever get a sense that a certain area of a city is akin to a certain area of a different city? It's as if the two cities meet at this spot, or maybe it's just a sense of dejavu. Or maybe it's just a yearning to be back someplace familiar.
I get this feeling often in Madison--certain parts of it are so similar to Fort Collins. One area of Monona Drive reminds me a lot of a certain area of LeMay Avenue. Some parts on the north side of the Isthmus remind me of Northwest Fort Collins. Washington Avenue reminds me of College Avenue, the intersection of First and Washington reminds me of Prospect and College.
I received a emailing from a neighborhood group I subscribe to. It included an excerpt from The Capital Times about a recent meeting concerning what to do with the abandonned Kohl's store and Rayovac building down the street. And when it mentioned the possibility of building an urban grocery store with underground parking, I'll be damned if I didn't feel like I was right back on Mulberry and College with the new Safeway...16 years ago. The intersection of Milwaukee and Washington is the same as Mulberry and College! It all starts to look so familiar...it's the same place, different time. Or is it the same time, but different place? And I'm living on Remington Street, Fort Collins' version of Winnebago/Willy Street.
There were several houses I wanted to live in when I was in Fort Collins. Of course, I knew I never could. There was one house on Remington Street that always fascinated me. It was constructed of red Sandstone that was quarried from the bottom of Horsetooth Reservoir. It had a carved sandstone gargoyle on the roof. It was a very unique design. I wanted to live there so badly. One time a room came up for lease in the house. Stan and I looked into it, not because we wanted to rent one room, but because we wanted to see the inside of the house. We only got a little peak, but the room was beautiful, natural hard wood, fancy doors, and a fireplace. A short time after that, we were looking for a place to rent, and the entire house was available. We knew at over $600 per month at that time, there was no way we could afford it. But we looked into it anyway. It was a stunning, beautiful Victorian, detailed fireplaces, beautiful wood, and just a very, very unique house like noneother. I yearned for that house, but I knew it was too far out of our price range. I loved that house. I wanted good people to rent it, not students who would trash it. I kept it in my dreams.
Although my house is frame, not sandstone, and I have not even one fireplace let alone several, and the gargoyle in our yard is concrete, not an original custom home decoration, I somehow now feel like I got the house, vicariously, in another city. If Milwaukee and Washington is Madison's version of Mulberry and College, and Winnebago Street is Remington, that would put our house just right about where the little Sandstone Gargoyle house is in Fort Collins.
Posted by Ann on 05/25/04@01:04 PM CST ..::Link::..Whisper or Scream?
Monday, May 24, 2004
One thing that really bugs me is when people have you pegged wrong. It's bad enough when people who don't know you think you're a certain way when you're not, but for the simple fact that they *don't* know you and are willing to make that prejudiced leap of faith with nothing to back it up, just shows they're ignornant fools and can easily be dismissed. But when someone who is supposedly a good friend doesn't really know what makes you tick, you feel a deep sense of being cheated or robbed of all those years you've known them. One day you wake up and realize they never really understood a thing about you. They never understood your art (you excused that because they weren't an artist), they didn't understand your passions or your profession. You shared laughs together, but when the laughs go away, there is nothing left. Where once was a laugh is now substituted by 'how is your work going?' and you know they're just making small talk, and they don't really care, because how could they? If you explained to them exactly how it was going, they'd tune you out because they don't understand what the hell you do anyway. It didn't bother you before, maybe because the subject of your work was never a topic before because there were always 'fun' things to talk about and do instead. And whenever it did come up, it quickly went away. You always suspected they didn't 'get it' but it was ok, they were a nice person and fun to be around. But there is no more fun.
In the past it was ok that they weren't music lovers to the extent you were, after all, not everyone is a fan. But they do like music they say, and they like a lot of the musicians you like...but then you realize it was all image. They liked someone because they *liked the way they looked* and really understood nothing of the music. This is a serious blow to your aesthetics.
And they supposedly enjoy a lot of the same movies you enjoy (or so they say), but when they buy their very first DVD, they choose 'The Ghost and Mrs. Chicken.' I kid you not.
You then realize...it's over. There is nothing more. How could there be?
I feel nothing, no loss. The friendship has died and the friend will die. I feel no sadness, not even anger, just frustration and infuriation at the stupid things he does, like smoking before heart surgery. How can anyone be so stupid? This is the kind of thing he criticized the uneducated and impoverished parents of his special needs students for. Hypocrite. The poor pig that will be sacrificed for its valves will give its life for nothing. Somewhere, there is someone who needs heart surgery, someone who truly wants a second chance. Someone who doesn't smoke. Someone who doesn't have insurance. But there will be no pig valve for them. For them, no pig will sacrifice its life so they can die.
I cry, but not for him. I cry for the pig. Poor pig. I even feel bad for the doctors, (imagine that!) they will be wasting their efforts for what, so he can go back to smoking? But for him I feel nothing, no loss. Have I hardened that much? Am I so calloused with friendships gone bad? The friendship doesn't make sense.
'There's no feeling where there's no sense.'
Posted by Ann on 05/24/04@03:28 PM CST ..::Link::..Whisper or Scream?
Sunday, May 23, 2004
Lace Agate Necklace: Pink Lace, Blue Lace and Crazy Lace. OK, since when was Crazy a color? Link: My Jewelry Store.