Consumables #76

I have been on a pretty steady comfort-consumables diet for the past few months, with lots of watching movies that I have seen many times before (so mind-numbingly satisfying). Right after my dad died--like right after, in the days right after--all I wanted to watch, for some reason, was stand up comedy. I watched anything that Netflix had:George Carlin, Sarah Silverman, Aziz Ansari, Louis CK, Kevin hart, Jim Gaffigan, Russell Peters, Maria Bamford, Aisha Tyler, Tig Notaro, Brian Regan, Eddie Murphy, Eddie Izzard, on and on and on. It didn't even matter if they weren't that funny, because everything was striking me as highly amusing. I would uncurl myself from my ball, and then sit there and laugh like a frigging hyena for hours, and then go curl up again. Catharsis, is the obvious reason. Tears of a clown and all that stuff.

Other than that, here are some other things I have been eyeballing lately.

Notting Hill
After stand up comedy week, I wanted nothing but old school romantic comedies. I no longer have cable, so I have to rely on downloadable rentals, Hulu Plus, Netflix, and whatever else I have loaded up on the Roku box. What I have discovered is that these outlets have paltry choices on the best rom coms. Like, super paltry. Gwyneth Paltry. Roger Paltry. All the paltry. No While You Were Sleeping, no Bridget Jones, no You've Got Mail. It's total crap! Anyway, I did find Notting Hill and here is what I have to say to you about that movie. I really like it, do not get me wrong about that. But it is not really a romantic comedy. I mean, it's heavy on the romantic and super light on the comedy. I was looking for laughs, people. There were hardly any laughs! And not like, because there were bad jokes. There just weren't no dang jokes at all. Plus, Julia Roberts is pulling that part off by the sheer weight of her 2-ton charisma and her 2-ton hair, because when you really look at it, her character is a horrible person. But sappy lovey dovey stuff? Check and check.

When Harry Met Sally
ONE ROMCOM TO RULE THEM ALL. Do you think we live in an era where something as romantic as When Harry Met Sally could star someone as unconventionally handsome as Billy Crystal as the love interest? He is just so non-sculpted in this movie- it was shocking. It would be nice to think that someone normal looking could do that nowadays, but I don't think it's happening. Ain't nobody got time for dat these days. And the wagon wheel table! It was like seeing an old friend.

Broadcast News
My original love affair with Holly Hunter started way back with this one. If you haven't seen it you must watch it for her power-suited 80s outfits alone. Shoulder pads like a gee-dee linebacker! And Albert Brooks with the flop sweat! Oh. So good.

Cheers
I have been watching the entire series all over again, and you guys, it holds up! Still funny. I am only into season 2 but I kind of adore Diane Chambers with her Sally-from-Peanuts hair and her snooty ways. She is ass-kickingly smart and although they kind of make fun of her for it her smarts are really celebrated in a way that I find pretty feminist. One thing I cannot abide by is that theme song. OH LORDY. I know it's iconic but yeesh. Pour on the Velveeta.

That's all I have time for today, friends! Have a lovely Friday. Catch you on the flip side.

Tile Lovett and Joe Caulker

Here's what's happening this week. We are in the middle of a string of gorgeous summer days, which causes me to have a sort of weather amnesia about my city. This happens every year- where I am like "rain? what rain? Seattle is gorgeous and has always been so. Look! There are mountains everywhere! And so much sparkly blue water! All prettiness! Rain has never happened a day in my life!" Summers here are what really lock you in. Ask me about this in February and I will pretend I never said this.

I have been immersed in trying to pick out tile for the back splash in my bathroom, and boy, do I have a lot of opinions about tile. I am a person who finds it hard to choose what to eat for dinner every night because of food ennui but design choices? I am so completely adamant about those. The world of tile is a gigantic cesspool of never ending options, so I have been happily poring over catalogs and frequenting tile stores around the city on the weekends. I finally picked out the tile o' my caulk dreams (listen, I will never not use the word "caulk" when given the option so you better get used to that around here) and went in to order those puppies and you know what? They cost seventy five dollars a  square foot. Ex-squeeze me? I didn't realize these tiles had ground up unicorn horn in them. The thing that gets me the most about this is that many tile stores do not label their tiles with prices in their showrooms. Also, many tile catalogs and websites also do not get specific about pricing. So you are choosing based pretty much solely on what you like, only to show up at the tile store for pricing and then giving them this face.

The area I am looking to tile up is about 20 square feet. Tell me why I need over a thousand dollars worth of tile looking at me while I brush my teeth. I don't, is the only correct answer there. Back to the drawing board I go.

In other news, I am trying to get back to doing some of the things that have completely fallen off of my radar for the past couple of months. One of them is reading. I haven't read nary a page of a book for so long- it's like my brain just wasn't processing words for a while there. Also, moving in general. There has been a lot of couch time in my world lately. I've been in a total zone out. Time to wake up! I think moving will help me feel better. My sleeping has all been for shit and I think it will help with that too. Lastly, getting back on the postal bandwagon. I love mailing my friends and family letters and things and I haven't been doing that either. I finally got back to that this past week. Why am I telling you all of this? What is my point? I don't know. Since when do I have to have a point?

That's what is happening around here. Have a lovely day, my pretties.

Real Talk

Things have been quiet in my world for the last little bit, and I already sort of feel like the blog has turned into Feelings Check-In Because My Dad Died and Also My Dad Died, and Hey, One More Time in Case You Missed It, My Dad Died. I have been trying to write about some things that have given me a lot of solace (yes, knocking my kitchen wall down has been therapeutic), so that's what you've been getting. But just in case anyone is reading this that is having some hard times themselves (and really, that seems sort of ambitious to say that if they are, then they would give a shit about what I have to say about it, but oh well), I don't want the only thing that I have to say about this whole phase of my life to be this uplifting stuff, because that's not the whole picture. I have lots to be grateful for, and my tendency is to always focus on that; it's a habit I have that has served me pretty well in life so far. But that focus is just that: a focus within a bigger picture that has much shittier parts to it. The hardest thing (even harder than my Dad passing away, in some ways) has been the sense of isolation I have felt. As much as I have a few people who have held me up, I have had many more people who I thought were close to me disappear, disengage, not show up at all. There have been people that I would see on a regular basis before this happened who I haven't seen at all since they heard my Dad is gone. There have been people who I have asked to hang out with me, take a walk, come over for tea, who have said they are too busy and never called me back. It is shocking. This makes me feel like I need to just shut up about it already, which, when I said that to Nordic Boy, he looked at me in astonishment and said "First of all, it happened like five minutes ago, in the grand scheme of things. And second of all, you have barely talked about it at all to 99% of the people you know, so how could you feel like it's time to shut up?" I keep reminding myself of this, but it's hard. I pretty much feel like I should probably shut up about it. Maybe people will start calling me back if I do that? I don't know. I have to remind myself of the small group of people who have been here, have called, have shown up. Some of them are people I would not have expected, who have surprised me with how much they care. Some people are so good at being kind. That has truly saved the day, for me.

So, the blogging is suffering a bit, but that's just because I am having a profoundly lonely time, topped off by a case of "I-need-to-shut-up-or-people-will-freak-out-or-leave-itis." Despite that, I do have my little band of 3 or 4 people that are truly giving me their all right now, and that's more than a lot of people have.

Ok? Ok. So let's begin OPERATION STOP BEING SO EFFING DEPRESSING. I will save that shit for my closest peeps and try not to worry about the rest. Focus on the love is really all there is to do, right? In any situation. What else is there?

For those of you reading this, most of you don't know me in real life. Do me a solid and think about who you do know in your real life. Anyone you can think of that is sad? Reach out to them. It doesn't matter if you don't know what to say. Just do it. Tell them your blog pal Librarian Girl said to. Ok maybe don't say that, because that's weird. And if you're the sad one that comes to mind when thinking about sad people you know, consider this post me reaching out to you. Hear me when I say this: your sadness matters to me.

Ok, Real Talk with Librarian Girl is now over. I'll be back soon to talk about how all the Dance Academy kids showed up on NBC's "Camp" with fake American accents and shit like that.

Closing comments for the first time ever, because I ain't saying none of this to start no pity party.

My Dear Delium

When I arrived at college at not-yet-18 years old, I was a smiley kid who looked people in the eye, with unironic Snoopy sheets on my dorm room bed and a Brother Word Processor (yes, I'm that old, it's true) under my arm. My plan was to transform my former dance accomplishments into full blown theater geekery, and with that I auditioned for a play. I was chosen, along with 9 other cast mates, and we all promptly became thick as thieves. One night during rehearsal, one of my new friends, Becca, said to me: "I think you should date Delium. I think he likes you." To which I articulately said, "nuh-uh! Really?" and left it at that.

I was having a super fun datey time when I arrived at college. I had a cool ex-boyfriend back home, and he had done the "you're moving away to college, go on without me, if you love someone set them free" schtick, but we kept in touch and also for the first 6 months he would show up at my dorm every couple of months so maybe it was more "if you love someone set them free but also I will show up sometimes in hopes of a booty call" which was the original draft of that Sting song. Aside from him, I was also just reveling in the fact that I was in college with all these new people and I was drowning in cute boy flirtations. When Becca said that to me about Delium, I was game. I liked him. He was a junior (automatic hottie points) and I remember that all of my dorm friends thought he was cyooooot. I am sure that I would have thought the same thing all on my own but at that age, what my friends thought was pretty much more important. Which, whatever. I was 18.

One day Delium called me on the phone and asked me to go on a date with him, which when I think about that phone call now I find it mortally adorable. He picked me up in his car and we went to some bar where his friends who were in a band were playing. It was some combination rock show plus sketch comedy thing. All I remember is that the band's show was about them travelling through time and there was one point where one of the guys dressed full Abraham Lincoln and rocked out. It is a weird memory.

Delium and I had this strange relationship after that. On the one hand, we were both really silly people and we spent much of our time together making each other snort-laugh with honest-to-goodness hijinks. Our senses of humor lined up exactly- my very first Comedy-Kindred-Spirit. On the other hand, Delium was the first boy I ever knew who was intense. I didn't have any experience with intense. I didn't know what to do with it. He would say things like "I'm going to marry you one day," or "I'm going to love you for the rest of our lives," which would make me think "I am 18 years old, don't be a nutjob, dude" but also "wow, that's cool. He is Lloyd Dobler." It was more than I could handle, for sure, but I pretended like I had it all in hand, even to myself.

That sort of intensity can only lead to a full-scale ride on the drama-trolley, and we were no exception. We had a few months of COMPLETE AND TOTAL RIDICULOUSNESS with jealousy! betrayal! declarations! tears on both sides! I shall spare you the details not because they aren't interesting but because OMG so embarrassing. Still, the weird thing was, that even in the midst of all that, we always made each other laugh. We would be having some exhausting conversation and one of us would, right in the middle of it, DO A BIT. And the other one would laugh and be like "that's funny, dude!" And then we would go back to being exhausting.

I can't really remember how we managed to transition out of intensity-land into something else. I feel like it just happened. We just snapped out of it. Delium is not at all intense like that anymore so maybe that's what did it. I left that school at 19 to go to Chicagoland to work at a theater, and Delium would come and visit me sometimes. I remember going to the Olive Garden with Delium and Nordic Boy there- the three of us. Then I moved to Madison, Wisconsin for a year and Delium moved there too because he was doing a grad program there, so we hung out some more. Then I went back to Fiji and while I was there, Delium switched grad programs to one in Seattle and needed to drive himself across the country. His driving pal? Nordic Boy. Look at how I bring a bromance together like that- those two are now straight up besties. I came back and joined up with them in Seattle, and we have all three been here ever since.

Delium is the busiest person I know. He has a day job, he acts, he dances, he goes on lots of trips. He has always been that way. But Delium is the person that Nordic Boy and I call when we need someone. With all that he has going on, somehow he is always there for us. (And do not even get me started about how Nordic Boy STOLE THAT BOY away from me). I don't know where we would be without him. He's our family.

Since my Dad died, Delium has called me pretty much every day. Every single day. Even when he is on a camping trip in Nevada. Even when he has work followed by a date followed by a performance. And he gets right up in my grill and talks with me about every last feeling I am having. And he remembers my dad with me. And he cries with me sometimes. And when I say "I'm so super tired, dude," he says "I know you are. I know," in the most gentle way. And we hang out and he still makes me snort-laugh every time.

He may not have married me like he said he was going to, but he did say he was going to love me for the rest of our lives. So, he was partially right.

You Send Me

Shared history is important, is what I have been thinking about lately. There is something about thinking back on something that happened in your life, and having someone else say: yes, I remember that too. Why does that feel so good? Does it validate us to know that our memories are not just ours, that someone else saw what we saw? Does it help us to know that we aren't just dreaming up what we think our lives have been?

I love my friend Alli for many reasons. She is one of the best people I have ever met, just like, on an objective Good Person scale. She's kind, she is hilarious, she is a phenomenal friend. But on top of all of this, we have known each other since kindergarten. This means that either of us can pull out a memory, and the other person will already know it.

Remember the night when we all went skinny-dipping in Map's pool? And A. got out of the pool and laughed so hard that she literally peed herself, right on the side of the pool? Ha ha, yes!

Remember when those three guy friends of ours crashed your birthday party in high school and stole your cake right out of your house? OMG, yes. Effers.

Remember in 5th grade how Carrie F. had this talent for drawing Garfield, and she drew doodles of Garfield everywhere, and it seemed so cool? Totally!

Remember when you got in the middle of a tough girl brawl that night outside the 7-11? No joke, that was nuts! Those girls wanted to kill someone.

Remember that time that dude who had a crush on you wrote you a filthy love note and your mom found it and read it? Holy shit, yes. Death by mortification.

Remember when we learned tinikling in 3rd grade gym class and you got chosen to demonstrate it for the parents at the ice cream social? Because I am a fucking superstar, obvs.

I know what song was playing on the radio when Alli made out with the guy who tried to give her the old "back of the head push" when we were teenagers. She knows that I almost had a serious wardrobe malfunction while dancing on stage in "Guys and Dolls" in 10th grade.

I started thinking about this last weekend when an old song came on the radio and we both went "oh my god, this SONG." I was thinking about how not only do we share the general nostalgia of remembering that song, but we share the same context surrounding the song. There's a good chance that we were milling around the same damn party where the song was initially playing and it seeped into our brains at the same time. It sort of blew my mind grapes a little bit, the more I thought about it.

If you're my homie, you're pretty much my homie for life. I will keep the friendship going, unless one of us turns into a dick or something. I know people that let their friends sort of drift in and out of their circle with each passing phase of their lives, and I guess that's ok too. But for me, going through things with my pals there with me, helping me to see my life, is so important to me that I can't imagine it any other way. And I think that feeling originated with Alli, and my friend Map too, starting way back when we were teensy little kids. The older I get, the more I cherish that.

So what was the song that prompted all of this? It was a PM Dawn song. I know, all of this because of Prince B. Nocturnal? Yes, totally. For whatever reason, it made both Alli and I feel how it felt to be young together, right in our guts. "Oh my god, this SONG."
 

De-cocooning

I've been pretty much curled up in a ball (only figuratively, although it has teetered on the edge of the literal at times) for the past 7 weeks, and so facing a work-related trip to Chicago this past weekend seemed like this yooge ordeal. Luckily, I have family in Chicago. Two big parts of my chosen family: Alli, her husband Chris, and my pal Palindrome.

So, in the span of 72 hours, in addition to librarian-conferencing, Alli made me delicious food that brought back my appetite a little bit, we traipsed in the sun in Old Town and Wicker Park and the Garfield Observatory, and we met up with Palindrome where I laughed big belly laughs that felt really good because I hadn't had one in so long.

Calling these people my "friends" doesn't seem like a big enough word.

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