that rosebud girl

Fighting the good fight

Normally, the news that one of my nearest and dearest friends from college is getting engaged is wonderful news, but this piece of news was so poignant and bittersweet.

Mark is my best friend from college. He’s one of the kindest, gentlest souls I have ever known. He never spoke ill of peope, didn’t swear or drink, was deeply spiritual and God-fearing (pretty much all the things I wasn’t). He wasn’t in-your-face about anything and the perfect foil to my um, not so even-tempered demeanor.

Just before I left college, Mark told me he was gay. He struggled a bit with this, trying to reconcile that with his faith. But he eventually learned to deal with it on his own terms and embrace who he was.

And recently came the news he wanted to propose to his partner of two and a half years, knowing full well they wouldn’t be able to marry here in California. He wanted to do it anyway, to express the fact he wanted to spend he rest of his life with this man. Mark wrote this eloquent email to his friends telling us all this, and it was very moving to see him wanting to move forward in the face of what he knew to be the facts.

I commend Mark for his courage. And his unwavering optimism. Because that’s who he is. I don’t think he’s capable of cynicism. And the rebel in me has to smile because he’s sticking it to the man in his own way.

He’s fighting the good fight, and I will fight it along with him. And I’ll do it his way, without bombast and harsh words and actions. Because his gentle way, I think, speaks more volumes than shouting and placards do.

I wish him the best of luck.

Coachella 2009 = un-fricking-believable!

My first Coachella is in the books, and I have to say it was one of the best experiences ever. I had such a great time that I think I might have to make this part of my annual concertgoing diet (not to mention my annual budget).

Everything about it was awesome: great music, great times. I’m sore as hell and I have a twisted ankle, but it was well worth it. Even though it was sweltering (especially Sunday), it wasn’t too bad. I expected the heat. Even the camping was a lot of fun (there’s nothing like taking a shower in a portable shower truck).

Friday was by far the best day and made the entire trip worth it. We saw all the best performances that day (and it wasn’t as hot). Not that Saturday and Sunday were snoozers, but I mean, the Molotov-Franz Ferdinand-Paul McCartney combo couldn’t be beat.

The final band tally:

Friday:
We Are Scientists (partial)
Molotov
Franz Ferdinand
Morrissey
Paul McCartney

Saturday:
Henry Rollins (spoken word, no music)
Calexico
TRV$DJ-AM (partial)
M.I.A.
The Killers

Sunday:
Couple of DJ sets (Shepard Fairey, Busy P)
Lupe Fiasco
Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Public Enemy
one Cure song

Man, that’s a crapload of bands and stuff. Edgar was right — Coachella is great because you get to see a lot of bands you probably wouldn’t pay to see by themselves. I would probably not have seen Lupe Fiasco or the Yeah Yeah Yeahs or Public Enemy outside of a festival venue, but I really enjoyed all three performances.

And you wind up seeing a lot of great performances and wanting to get some new music. I might have to go find some Molotov now. And some Lupe Fiasco.

Best performance:

Paul McCartney, hands down! The man is something like 65 years old and still put on an amazing show. And it was two-and-a-half hours! “Blackbird” was done all by himself on an acoustic and was beautiful; he also played “Something in the Way She Moves” with a ukelele and then moved on to using a full band. (His drummer, by the way, was really badass — we kept calling him Warren Sapp.)

My favorite part, though, was when everyone sang along to “Hey Jude.” There’s something insanely cool about tens of thousands of people singing in unison.

Oh, and I forgot how much “Helter Skelter” rocks out. He played it during one of the encores.

Runner-up:

Franz Ferdinand. Funny that I’ve now seen them three times without really intending to see them — they just happened to be on whatever bill I was watching at the time. But they’re excellent live, and every time I see them I think I want to buy more albums.

I was quite amused that the lead singer was wearing a George Harrison t-shirt. And he was good with the crowd.

Things that sucked:

• Twisted ankle! It caused me to miss about half the TRV$DJ-AM set, too. And I couldn’t see Jenny Lewis because I was kind of immobile.
• M.I.A. was okay, but her DJ was really annoying and I wanted him to STFU after a while.
• Poor Morrissey looked like he was going to keel over at some point. He was really struggling through the beginning of his set, though he did recover.
• Glasvegas had to cancel on Saturday, so we didn’t get to see them. (A friend had recommended we see them.)
• Sunday’s heat was awful, and almost everyone was sold out of water. We should have been getting free water at that point.
• I think I have heat rash.

It was very exhausting, but so worth it. I’d definitely do it again!

an elegy to a career.

Zero hour is near, but the reality of leaving journalism and leaving a daily paper still hasn’t quite sunk in. I have worked at a newspaper in some capacity, at some level, since I was 18. Journalism has been such a large part of my life for so long that this moment is bittersweet.

I know what the current state of newspapering is. It breaks my heart that it has come to this. But me leaving this business had nothing to do with the state of this business or not loving journalism. I just had the proverbial offer I couldn’t refuse.

I still believe in journalism. I still believe in what it can do and I still believe that newspapering is viable. I hope to someday teach a new generation of journalists how to maneuver a rapidly changing media landscape. (If all things fall correctly, I’ll get to be a teacher in a few months.) I still love journalism. I will miss working at a daily newspaper like hell. And that’s what makes this so hard.

I owe a hell of a lot to journalism. It gave me a lifetime of stories to tell people. I have crashed into a snowbank and been cited for speeding on my way back from sporting events. I have watched buzzer-beating shots, big upsets, incredible performances and even a high school kid (who’s now an NFL punter) kick a 60-yard field goal. I’ve nearly been hit in the head by a field hockey ball, been nailed in the ankle by a lacrosse ball and almost been hit by a car (twice!) while crossing the street and dictating high school football stats on deadline on a cell phone. I thrived on deadline and loved the adrenaline rush, whether it was reporting from double-overtime football games or directing the show on a prep football Friday. I will remember all the good and the bad and cherish them all the same.

Journalism let me travel and see places I otherwise wouldn’t have gotten to (even if some of those places were out-there burgs like Pullman, Washington, and Harrisonburg, Virginia). I got to live in three states and experience all four seasons. I went to really cool events, but also enjoyed the small venues, the packed-to-the-ceiling high school gyms and the countless food stands at high school stadiums. (Once upon a time, I could tell you what high school stadiums in Delaware sold the best nachos.)

Journalism made me who I am. It made me steely. You need to be if you’re a girl in sports journalism. As much as you like to think we’re all enlightened and all that, it’s not true. I heard some sexist things, I had people doubt my ability and my knowledge, and I wanted to kick a few men in the balls to teach them a lesson. It taught me to grow a thick skin and roll with the punches. I got yelled at by coaches, players, irate parents, editors I didn’t agree with. (Admittedly, this business is why I can’t really tolerate the idiocy of the general public, but at least there have been times that I’ve met people that remind me that not all of humanity is dumb.)

Journalism taught me to be resourceful and to be creative and to work well under pressure. A last-second shot can render the 12 inches of copy you’ve already written totally useless. Someone famous dies on deadline and you’re forced to switch gears. I once had a designer turn to me 10 minutes from deadline and tell me he needed the NBA page designed. From scratch. (Done. Give me something hard to do.) I’ve had to dictate stories from really weird places, drive through the streets of Queens to find the place of a friend I hadn’t talked to in years just so I could plug in my dying computer and sleep somewhere because of an impending snowstorm, and figure out how to get to places pronto after car breakdowns. I’m really good at doing things on the fly, and I like to think journalism helped me sharpen that skill.

I have met lifelong friends at every place I have worked. I have met all kinds of interesting people. Hell, journalism even got me a husband.

But what I owe most to journalism is that it allowed a snot-faced kid from a spit of land in the middle of the Pacific Ocean the chance to dream big. The chance to chase the dream and sit in press boxes in stadiums whose seating capacity would have easily fit about half the population of the place I grew up. The chance to see in person the games I once could only watch on television in the middle of the night. I was never that kid who wanted to stay on the island and be in a small, comfortable place where everyone knew who I was. I wanted to be the small fish in a big pond. I wanted to expand and escape and wanted the challenge of establishing myself in a strange place, and journalism was my avenue.

Sure, there were lots of things I hated and lots of people I hated. Lots. Enough to make me cry or throw tantrums and make me want to quit on the spot. But in the final estimation, journalism treated me very well, and I feel really fortunate to have the run that I did.

There used to be a time I thought I would leave the building cursing and raising a middle finger on the way out. But I’ve chosen to remember it well. I will remember the glory days instead. I’ll remember raiding candy jars, high school football betting pools, crass jokes, crazy nicknames, random conversations, being tipped for coding a Kentucky Derby chart and having fun on the road after a tournament’s worth of basketball games. No other career will give me the same kind of roller coaster ride. And part of me will always miss that.

It was a career well spent, and I will never regret it.

my heart aches, it breaks.

Today, I found out about all the layoffs going on at various Gannett entities including of course, The News Journal in Delaware, a place very near and dear to me. Three people in sports were laid off and I knew all three. It absolutely broke my heart.

The one that hit me especially hard was hearing that Tom Coburn, the sports copy chief, was being laid off. Crops — that was his nickname — was very near and dear to me and just a wonderful guy. Crops was ever patient and easy to talk to and a fantastic boss. He helped me when I switched over to the copy desk there and taught me everything I know about being a good, solid editor. I considered him a fine mentor. He also gave me a John Starks New York Knicks jersey as a going-away present — Crops found it on eBay! — when I left Delaware, and it’s one of my prized possessions.

Kevin Noonan was also let go. I didn’t know Kevin that well, but I saw him around the office a lot, and he was a pretty funny dude. And a terrific writer and columnist. I read a lot of his Eagles copy when he covered the team. He was also the guy we used to just say, “He’s a professional” whenever we got his stuff ’cause we knew it would be clean and ready to go fast.

I also knew several other folks who weren’t in sports and were laid off.

The state of this profession just saddens me.

I wish the 31 at the News Journal all the best of luck. God bless.

a little poetry.

i’ve been writing a lot lately over the past few weeks and figured i might as well post some stuff for public consumption. why not?

here’s one, still no title. i find that i don’t title a lot of my poetry.

i’ll smile even when i’m broken in two
and keep coming back to you
even if i shut the world out
i’ll always let you back in, no doubt
i always promised to remember it well
even if it leaves me only a shell
i will lie to hide the pain
and i will come back once again
i once loved you, i truly did
but goodbye to that we bid
i can’t let you go, i can’t say no
though deep inside we already know
something in us already died
and what we tell ourselves are lies
i’ll put on a brave face just for you
because it’s the only thing i know to do

bruises and battle scars.

quick, if you saw someone walking around with this welt, wouldn’t you wonder what the hell happened?

that is day 3 of karaoke bruise. and yes, it’s a rather hot topic since you know, not everyone had the privilege of witnessing the actual incident. but everyone can see the aftermath. (well, that, and i’m damn proud of said bruise and keep showing it to people.)

it usually takes a few days for those things to get really gnarly, and i have to say that is the gnarliest bruise i’ve had in a while. this was what it looked like yesterday morning:

this bruise rivals the one i got in high school during a soccer scrimmage. i was defending some kid (who of course was taller and bigger than me) and we both were going for the ball. well, the boy kicked me square in the shin. hard. and the shin guard didn’t do jackshit. and i kept running.

next day, though, i had a bruise about as big as my fist. and it was green. i showed that off for a while. (well, we wore catholic schoolgirl skirts in high school … not like i could hide that battle scar!)

but this bruise is definitely more gnarly. it’s dark, for crying out loud. and i think there’s a better story behind it.

someone was saying to me yesterday that it was a damn shame there wasn’t video of said incident. i don’t even think there are pictures. unless someone whipped out a cell phone camera at the right time. oh, well.

another year older!

today i turned 29. 30’s in sight!

my 28th year on this planet was a hell of an interesting one, for sure. i bid farewell to a career in sports (but not farewell to journalism). i gained a couple of close friends. i got in a band. i had opportunities that i never dreamed of come to life. it was a good year, indeed.

best of all, i had the best birthday celebration ever. (even if it was the day before.) it totally kicks the pants off no. 21 (surprise party at maureen’s) and no. 26 (usc-arizona football game and general tailgate craziness).

had a nice dinner with a few people, then went and karaoked the night away. it was fun. and crazy. highlights?

- i am now 2-for-2 when it comes to spilling water at aioli. i dodged spilling glasses of wine, but two glasses of water were casualties when i tried to get up to greet judy and took a tablecloth with me.

- i had a little mishap toward the end of karaoke and fell into the tv stand (and i have the bruises to prove it).

- lisa bought me a cake, which immediately shoots her up my list of favorite people.

- ahmed and parker showed up to karaoke, and i haven’t hung out with those guys in forever. i was so glad they were there.

and the photographic evidence:

this was taken at the end of the night. i heart all my boys: andrew, ed, ahmed and parker.

the night was not young in this photo.

the night was indeed still young in this photo, and i almost felt like i was going to a formal with parker ’cause we looked hella sharp!

lisa and me. (no cake in the photo, though.) she can wail on a mic, for reals.

this was right when ahmed showed up, and he rocked it hard as things went on.

here’s evidence of ahmed rocking out. he and andrew had easily the most brilliant performance of the night, channeling a little rivers cuomo and doing “say it ain’t so” right.

what is this, the hair twins? actually, andrew was rocking out, too, and parker just had to encapsulate the moment.

me and my favorite drummer. he bought me a capo for my birthday. that might put him above lisa on the favorite people list.

and of course, the band had to get together for a photo.

thanks to all who witnessed it and made the party such a great frickin’ time.

here’s hoping the run-up to 30 is just as good as this year was.

feelin’ lyrical and pondering life.

it’s been a long time since i’ve done a lyrical blog. i’ve been listening to lots of music lately, thinking about lyrics, writing a few, etc. it’s that whole music-helps-me-think thing. and i’m feeling kind of philosophical.

this is going to be an epic post, just a warning!

***

staying awake to chase a dream
tasting the air you’re breathing in
i know i won’t forget a thing

all of the love we threw away
all of the hopes we cherished fade
making the same mistakes again
making the same mistakes again
– muse, “falling away with you”

this entire song is frickin’ amazing, but this is probably one of my favorite parts. so beautifully sad. especially the line “watching the fantasies decay/nothing will ever stay the same.” because that’s just how it is when good things end.

you often promise the good things to people and they often turn out wrong in the end. i’m sure that’s something a lot of people can relate to. who hasn’t said goodbye and promised to stay in touch and didn’t? who hasn’t walked away from someone and not felt like it was one of the biggest failures of their lives?

think about that line, “all of the hopes we cherished fade.” everyone moves on at some point and it’s not always pretty.

we all have our successes, but we have far more failures. and a few tragic failures at that.

***

the despair can ravage you
if you turn your head around to look down the path
that’s led you here,
cause what can you change?
you’re a vessel now
floating down the waterways
you can take your rudder
and aim your ship,
just don’t bother with the things left in your wake

and …

and you walk across the stage,
take a bow, hear the applause,
and as the curtain falls,
just know you did it all
the best that you knew how
and you can hear them cheering now
so let a smile out and show your teeth
cause you know you lived it well
– saves the day, “this is not an exit”

another great song. hard to pick just a couple of parts out of it.

the first part is something i’ve always related to. i leave a lot of things in my wake. i get reminded of that time and again. sometimes you learn and sometimes history repeats itself. either way, it’s never easy because you can’t help but look back into the wake and see what bits and pieces are bobbing about. i think looking backwards is just human nature and some of us don’t do it as often as others.

the second part is not a bad philosophy in life. “just know you did it all/the best you knew how.” we all have warts and foibles and failures, but dammit, we’ve lived. sometimes, the harder you’ve had it, the more rewarding your life becomes. you feel like you’ve lived. even when it sucks. and you did it the best you could.

***

i think that it’s brainless
to assume that making changes
to your window’s view will give a new perspective
– death cab for cutie, “blacking out the friction”

i couldn’t agree with that statement more. sometimes people run away from where they are and assume that changing location solves all problems. nope. not always. discovering the underlying issue is always the trickiest part.

***

well i stand at the crossroads
of high roads and low roads
and i got a feeling it’s right

if the world isn’t turning
your heart won’t return anyone, anything, anyhow
– travis, “love will come through”

(now, i know a lot of hard-core travis fans hate the record “12 memories,” but this is probably my favorite travis song of all-time.)

who hasn’t stood at that juncture when you have to decide whether to pour your heart out or not? it’s a terrifying thing. but sometimes the feeling is so real you do it. because if you didn’t, then you’d probably regret it. and if you didn’t, maybe you didn’t really feel it at all.

also, the only way you won’t ever truly feel anything is if the world stops turning and you’re pretty much dead. everyone feels things because they’re human and you can’t help it. so don’t deny the feeling, good or bad. just figure out how to best deal with it.

***

you’ve been going out of way to agree
like you’ve been rubbing yourself all wrong just to be somebody else’s genie
catering to your disasters every need
waiting to finally be set free
– poets of the fall, “fragile”

this is kind of the story of my life. and i know it. it’s kind of sad that i know it. i’m running around like a chicken without a head and catering to everyone and their mother. catering to everyone but myself. and people keep telling me that. and i keep on catering.

old habits are hard to break sometimes.

sometimes i wish change was a lot easier.

***

my best judgement signed its resignation
– death cab for cutie, “title track”

pithy, succinct, very well put. everyone has been exactly there as the lyric describes. don’t lie.

i just really like that line and the sentiment behind it.

***

(thus ends these lyrical musings.)

a lesson learned.

it was really difficult, but i finally learned how to walk away from something.

i quit “footloose.” broke my heart, absolutely, but i was just so physically and mentally drained that i just couldn’t do it. i hope those kids forgive me, and that crew forgives me, but i do feel a lot better now.

sometimes you really do have to take care of yourself first.

my to-do list isn’t even close to shrinking down, but i think i’ll be able to survive just that much better now.

four weeks of hell: day 1.

and it didn’t go that well.

* i forgot how hard it was to stage manage a show.

* i was admittedly a little unprepared.

* i tripped on a set backstage. luckily, i didn’t injure myself or break a set. but i think i tweaked my back yet again thanks to my clumsiness.

and this is just the beginning. three more days of tech rehearsal. then the four-weekend run begins.

and then, of course, there’s everything else that’s going on.

hopefully i don’t misplace my sanity. or trip over any other sets. and that my back holds up.