Missing You

It rained last night, it rained HARD last night. Thunder, lightning, literal downpour and it put me in a most decidedly melancholy mood. I tried calling a few friends from back home, but had no luck reaching them. Since I've been away I see myself slipping further and further from their daily lives, which is sad for me, but in all fairness, except the ones I IM throughout the day most of them have slipped from my daily conciousness. Learning a new role in life is always hard, especially at 34 - old dog new tricks and all that.

I miss my friends today.

Hugs and Other Touchy Things

I believe the human soul requires the body to be touched in loving gestures frequently. With my friends back in SLC I am extremely physically affectionate; I hug and kiss my friends on a regular basis. Not that silly standing-three-feet-away-lean-in-and-a-pat-on-the-back kind of hug or the one arm hug – I hate that one. I’m talking about a full five second hug. Just for note, five seconds is a good long time to invade somebody else’s space, go ahead and try it. Anyway, when I was home last week, I hugged every friend I saw and they were long hugs, because I felt like my soul had been deprived, hell I was even hugging my favorite bartenders. A few friends even commented on the voracity of the hug and I think I may have bruised a few. Sorry…ok, not really, oops unless I did actually cause some damage, then I am sorry.

Most of my friends are physically affectionate as well, for instance Lindsay jumped into my arms, wrapped her legs around me and held on for dear life when she saw me – very touching by the way, it makes me smile even now. Sometimes it struck me at odd moments, like my last night there, I was lounging in Johnny’s office while he was working and as I was leaving the room, I turned back around and walked over and kissed him on top of the head. Believe me I am very lucky that I have friends who will let me do these things to them. There are two people that I wished I had given a proper good-bye hug to, because car hugs are so awkward, but hopefully I will see them both soon so I’ll make up for it then.

My point is, here in Chicago, I don’t have people here that I can hug forcefully, passionately, longingly or emotionally. Last night after volleyball we went to our sponsor bar for dinner and drinks (mostly drinks) and as I was leaving I did give everybody hugs and they of course willingly returned them, but it just didn’t feel the same. I do know it takes time and I’m willing to wait. But let this serve as a warning that the next person who comes to see me is going to have to endure a very, very, very long hug!

SLC Quickie

This is a leftover quickie regarding SLC that I would be remiss if I did not mention it.

So a couple of months ago Peabody interviewed Sarah Neilson http://www.sarahnielson/ and Heather & Jon Armstrong http://www.dooce.com/ & http://blubromat.com/. All three of them are outstanding writers/bloggers, all of them are in Utah and all of them are recovering Mormons (my favorite people). I had already been a long time reader of Dooce and Blurbomat but through this interview I was introduced to Sarah. After posting on her blog about loaning out some of my boys for her to consider for a quickie marriage concerning death arrangements (which I totally would still do), Sarah responded. We chatted a bit via e-mail and I promised her Chocolate Covered Espresso Beans.

Anyway, we met for a quick coffee yesterday, and never actually drank any coffee before I had to leave for the airport. She confessed she almost cancelled after seeing a nemesis as a Facebook friend, someone who had previously dated one of my BFFs, and who has since removed me as a Facebook friend, presumably due to this blog. Such is life.

So to my friends, who read this blog, please check her out. Besides being totally hot, she’s an awesome read.

Same Shoes - Different Me

So it’s been a few days since the last post because I’ve been in SLC visiting friends and family and without my laptop (ugh), but I had to take just a few minutes and write something down.

Upon returning to SLC I met up with friends, had a few drinks (a few too many sometimes), attended a raging 80’s/Headbanger/Hair band party, had dinner at a friend’s house, spent some time with the family and once again met up with friends for dinner at my favorite Indian restaurant. Being home is very easy in one aspect, because you know this city, you know your friends and it never seems to change, but ultimately it’s a little heartbreaking because you realize that people do move on and your place within the group has changed. You go from being a daily part of the puzzle to being the visitor. On one hand it’s nice because for a few days everybody does exactly what you want to do (which rarely happens when they see you every day). But on the other hand, your place within the group that was forged over many dinners, trips, parties, funerals and various other activities has now gone away. Sure your friends still love you, but you no longer matter in their daily routine. They are the same people and so are you, but you now know that your daily lives don’t interact like they used to.

Coming home is like putting on the great pair of shoes that you wore everywhere last year and when you pull them out of your closet after a hiatus they don’t fit the same anymore. It’s not like they’re too big or too small they’re just not the same anymore. They’re still classic, stylish, gorgeous shoes, they just don’t feel the same. I have different shoes I wear now and they’re not better they’re just different.

Today, I miss the way the old shoes felt when I wore them everywhere. I’m torn between the old shoes and the new shoes that I love. When I go home to Chicago they will go back to the closet and I'll be wearing the new shoes once again.

Melancholy

My mood today definitely matches the weather, it’s gloomy and rainy and sad. My friend Peabody left today to return to the Salt City and I am very sad. I had such a great time with him here. When you’re in SLC it’s so hard to spend quality time with friends because there are so many people to see and no matter where you go with Peabody you will inevitably be interrupted by somebody who either knows him, thinks they know him or just wants to comment on his show. It’s impossible to have a meal without interruption. But here in Chicago, anonymity is wonderful! I took Peabody to a couple of different places, we had dinner, we had drinks and we had BLUES!

Yes, I will definitely miss having Peabody here!

Bring on the next friend.

Visitation Rights

So my friend Peabody is here to visit and I am so happy about it. We had dinner at a restaurant that everybody has raved about and it did not disappoint; kitschy, quaint and extraordinarily good food! Talking to Peabody was like never having left the salt city. Gossip was the order of the day and this did not disappoint either.

I had already decided that every one of my friends must visit, but now I am making it mandatory. After being grilled on places to go and things to do I discovered that I actually do know this town. I was beginning to doubt myself, alas, as I learn more of the city I can now detail trips to coincide with likes and dislikes. It doesn’t matter what you like; food, shopping, nightlife, jazz or blues…I know where to take you.

Take heed, my friends, I am now your official guide to the Windy City!

Making friends is easy...

Making friends is easy, making friends that cook you dinner is a whole different story. Let me start by saying I had a great time this weekend, I helped a new friend celebrate his birthday, and joined the girls is kicking his ass at Rumikube. This, considering he’s a HUGE fan, is an added bonus to the glee. While I was indeed having a good time, in the back of my mind I couldn’t help but think that back home in SLC, my friends were having Movie Night. Movie Night is something I started awhile back, and we would gather and watch mostly cult classics or campy B-movies. This always involved a large amount of alcohol, a late night bitch session over whomever somebody was dating at the time and always, ALWAYS involved dinner cooked by one of my best friends.

Many years ago in SLC, I was fortunate enough to meet one person who is wonderful, talented, creative, expressive and very well known. Through her came a plethora of individuals who became friends (some enemies but we don’t discuss them). I met two guys who have become the best friends I have ever had and those two boys can cook! I mean, they can really create amazing, delicious meals which inevitably brings together many people. Countless evenings I’ve sat perched on the kitchen counter with a glass of wine and provided a running commentary while they were busy creating a masterpiece. Sometimes it was a solo preparation and other times it was a dual effort. But I always had my spot on the kitchen counter, it was my spot. And since I am now here, I can’t help but wonder if some woman has taken over, if she is now the matriarch of the “urban tribe”, is this person now taking over my beloved, well-worn groove on the concrete counter-top? Do I no longer have an exalted position within the family?

And as I sat on this deck playing Rummikube, eating grilled hot dogs; I really missed my friends and thought to myself, “Yep, it’s easy to make friends, but harder to make friends who will cook for you.” Friends, who make dinner for you, know what you like and don’t like. You share history with the friends who make you dinner and, most stories start with “Remember when…” This is the hard part about being here and them being there, this recreating good friendships, strong friendships and lasting friendships.

I know my urban tribe will always be there, and I have no doubt that I will make friends with people who make you dinner, it just takes time. And I promise to be nice to whoever has taken my place whenever I visit, but I will want my seat back!