(no subject)

Peter Mulvey gives a damn fine show. And he's apparently got seven more shows at Passim in 2011 (a three-show Redbird run, and a four show run that will include two collaborations with a bunch of other artists, one all-instrumental show with Goody and one Skinny Millionaires show.) I, of course, will attempt to attend all of them like the creepy stalker that I actually am.

I was in a foul mood for a good chunk of the day, and ended up crying on Light at Passim while waiting for Purple and her cousin to show up. I really don't exactly understand what's going on with my mood, it seems to ricochet around more often. There are certainly a couple things going on now that might influence it, and spending sixteen hours contemplating my career path certainly didn't help matters, particularly the part where I just faced up to the fact that I'm going to do what might be considered a relatively large thing this fall and I really oughtn't make any life plans before I do. And I know I shouldn't let it run my life either, but it turns out shoulds and shouldn'ts don't hold a lot of weight in the face of it.

I've been wondering a lot of late about the kinds of reassurances I crave, and whether or not I'm discounting them as soon as I get them (short answer? yes) and what I can do about that. There are things I want to hear, and I'm afraid that I'm seldom comfortable enough to ask for them. And it's so freaking stereotypical to trace all these things back to the fact that my parents really had no fucking clue what do with me, but apparently I'm going through a phase where all roads lead to Rome.

Butbutbut...I finally got up the nerve to email some people, and got responses that made me grin, my puppy still knocks herself over with the force of her tail wagging when I come home, my husband spoils me rotten and I've finally found a more than half-decent mole recipe.

For my next trick, I'm going to fulfill one of my many stereotypes and try to lay my hands on some Bag Balm this weekend, 'cause my hands are getting just that bad.

(no subject)

Peter Mulvey gives a damn fine show. And he's apparently got seven more shows at Passim in 2011 (a three-show Redbird run, and a four show run that will include two collaborations with a bunch of other artists, one all-instrumental show with Goody and one Skinny Millionaires show.) I, of course, will attempt to attend all of them like the creepy stalker that I actually am.

I was in a foul mood for a good chunk of the day, and ended up crying on Light at Passim while waiting for Purple and her cousin to show up. I really don't exactly understand what's going on with my mood, it seems to ricochet around more often. There are certainly a couple things going on now that might influence it, and spending sixteen hours contemplating my career path certainly didn't help matters, particularly the part where I just faced up to the fact that I'm going to do what might be considered a relatively large thing this fall and I really oughtn't make any life plans before I do. And I know I shouldn't let it run my life either, but it turns out shoulds and shouldn'ts don't hold a lot of weight in the face of it.

I've been wondering a lot of late about the kinds of reassurances I crave, and whether or not I'm discounting them as soon as I get them (short answer? yes) and what I can do about that. There are things I want to hear, and I'm afraid that I'm seldom comfortable enough to ask for them. And it's so freaking stereotypical to trace all these things back to the fact that my parents really had no fucking clue what do with me, but apparently I'm going through a phase where all roads lead to Rome.

Butbutbut...I finally got up the nerve to email some people, and got responses that made me grin, my puppy still knocks herself over with the force of her tail wagging when I come home, my husband spoils me rotten and I've finally found a more than half-decent mole recipe.

For my next trick, I'm going to fulfill one of my many stereotypes and try to lay my hands on some Bag Balm this weekend, 'cause my hands are getting just that bad.