bottled up, boxed up

I remember the day I cleaned out my apartment and moved from 15th and Spruce to Queen Village. I came home from labor day weekend to find my entire apartment filled, floor to ceiling, with roaches. Some dead in my toilet and bathtub, some roaming free on the walls and on the floors. Apparently my dear o'neighbor set a roach bomb while I was gone, and they all ran under the floorboards and walls.

Poor stella (RIP kitty) was left to fend for herself, battling against the roughest bugs on the east coast. I on the other hand wasn't prepped for the battle, and spent the night on a friends couch.

The next day I came home to clean up the mess. Top to bottom I sprayed, laid traps, disinfected as much as I could. At the end of the night there wasn't a bug to be found. I decided a bath was the way to go. I turned the nozzle on the bathtub on and i saw something JUMP up at me. It was a mouse. Swimming. Swimming in my bathtub.

I bought boxes the next day.

I've boxed up my life many times now. There's something cathartic about putting all of your belongings into a box. Deciding what is worth packing, what is worth leaving behind, what should go to good will, and what belongs in the trash. Forever.

In all the times I've boxed up my life, I've found that it's during a pivotal time in my life. When I'm leaving my first one bedroom apartment, when I'm moving across the country, when I'm moving back across the country, when I'm establishing my space in an oh-so-cramped world.

The process of boxing up memories can be the worst. Re-reading letters of love, tokens of good times, and clothing with memories too painful to revisit. Well not all painful. You get a very unique opportunity to watch yourself grow. To see a transformation from year to year. In shoe choice, in home decor, in underwear, in love. You can see a change from that of a girl to a woman, from that of a lover to a loved one, from that of a significant to an insignificant, from cowering to courageous.

We box up and bottle up everything that's too overwhelming, daunting, or challenging. Throw on a shipping label or a 3x5 cards labeled "livingroom", "fragile", "open when you're ready."Why? Why not throw it all out for a landfill to deal with? Closure? Once something is packed and shipped it's gone for good? We think.

I've unpacked enough boxes in my day to say the least. The latest was probably the worst. Although good friends helped sort the dry cleaning from the washer safe, the living room from the "open on a rainy day."It brought back old memories involving hoop earrings and christmas cards. But finally closure, on the opposite end of a box that I didn't pack myself.

Gone are trips to the beach, vegas and new york. Scrambled eggs and bacon, movies at the ritz, walks to the park, sunday mornings, chinese food in the middle of the night, special light through my window, blueberry muffins and chocolate chip cookies. Bottles of wine, dinner over candle light, and pumps from west broadway. Mexican food, plans for the wine country, shoulder nook, love in the morning, grey's anatomy during finals, nina simone at the end of the day. Never learning to dance, singing while fast sleep, singing while crying. Walking through the snow, meeting in the cold, my red nose in the winter, my cold toes in the morning, my hair through the sunroof.

Bottle it up, box it up. I'm ready for the next move.

listen

because i said so :)

fun

This past weekend my partner in downtown crime was kind enough to accompany me to the old ceremony concert. It's been my deep dark secret dream to perform on stage. Not in the stripper way, but in the iplayanintrumentandsingallatthesametime kind of talent. Dream=realized this past sunday. Well, kinda ;) I got to play tambourine for one of my favorite bands during one of my favorite songs. It was damn near perfect.

Four gin and tonics later Lana and I were chatting up the band and generally being charming. Thank god Lana has tact, because she grabbed me by the belt and threw me out of the concert right after I passed my suave and charming peak, and before the words started jumbling, or confessions of love started to flow. A trip to the karaoke bar and a bowl of cheesefries later we called it a night. What can I say, we're classy broads.

The next day I headed to the beach for my first day of the season. Oh fun in the sun, swimming in the ocean, building sand people, drinking PBR, taking naps on the beach....fuck. Naps on the beach. I'm pail, very pail. I'm pretty sure I've been told that one shade decrease would result in clear skin. I woke up after a twenty minute nap with the most painful sunburn to date.

I've been sleeping and working on my stomach for the past two days, and trying, oh so desperately, to explain to Puck why he can't jump on me. So confused ("Mom?! you don't LOVE ME?!?!"). I must say, I'm a little pathetic, and felt oh so sheepish when I had to approach my boss and ask to work from home because my ass and thighs were LITERALLY on fire. Thank god for understanding employers with daughters.

In other exciting news, I finally bought myself one of those snazzy, skinny, digital camera's, so before you know it more pictures will be involved in the blogging. Excellent. To be continued...

aha! dont forget...

Thought I'd throw it up here that The Old Ceremony is playing the Tin Angel this Saturday at 9:30. An excellent destination after the Roots Picnic if I say so myself. You might remember, I posted their new album a bit ago. Check them out if you can, you won't be disappointed!

shows

So I finally managed to run over to Kung Fu Necktie, which I have to be honest, I drive past the place everyday. This whole time I was convinced it was a tattoo parlor. Anyway, the interior is awesome, with very comfy booths and barstools and even better, fabulous bartenders. At one point, in my haste to dance, I left my purse sitting on my barstool like an amateur, and the bartender grabbed it and put it up on the shelf so no one would steal anything.

We're called the city of brotherly love for a reason. And in the spirit of love, I bring you Love is All, a wonderful band with a great sound. The lead singer is this super cute, 5 foot nothin chic from across the pond. We're so lucky to have such a vibrant music scene in the area. I'm really spoiled by the venues in a 1 mile radius. I'm never moving.

Listen, enjoy, love.