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Monday, May 31 How I spent my Memorial Day Holiday. A story told in pictures.  It started off a rainy and sunny day. 12:07 PM | allison | # |  I spent the day avoiding this. 12:06 PM | allison | # |  I did that by laying here. 12:06 PM | allison | # |  And watching this. I heart L&O marathons. And Chris Noth. The End. 12:05 PM | allison | # | Saturday, May 29 Can you think of any other way to spend a lazy Saturday afternoon? Yeah. Me either.  Make it Mike's indeed. 2:42 PM | allison | # | Tuesday, May 25 I've just got a lot of random thoughts floating around in my head today. I understand if you want to click off and read someone else today. 11:08 AM | allison | # | Monday, May 24 Sometimes I'm so overwhelmed by the love and kindness of my friends and family that it makes me cry. Today is one of those times. 11:29 AM | allison | # | Sunday, May 23 Torrential rain, dime-sized hail and tornado warnings aside, summer storms are awesome. 8:59 PM | allison | # |  The calm after the storm. 8:54 PM | allison | # |  Wow. 8:53 PM | allison | # |  Incredible. 8:53 PM | allison | # | Friday, May 21 Do you remember Shel Silverstein? He wrote Where the Sidewalk Ends and There's a Light in the Attic. A friend wrote a poem today that totally reminded me of him. It was my paternal grandmother that introduced me to Shel Silverstein. She used to sit me down on the dark brown couch in their living room and read to me from those books. We read them so many times I could do my favorite poems by heart. I cannot go to school today said little Peggy Ann McKay. I've got the measles and the mumps. A gash! A rash! And purple bumps.* Once I reached school age, I was introduced to The Giving Tree by an elementary school teacher during read aloud time after recess. It made me cry. Once there was a tree and she loved a little boy. And every day he would come and he would gather her leaves...* When I was old enough, I got my own copies of my favorites. A Light in the Attic; Where the Sidewalk Ends; Lafcadio, The Lion Who Shot Back; The Giving Tree. I read and re-read them all. Backward Bill. Backward Bill. He lives way up on Backward Hill.* The year I graduated high school, I re-kindled my love for him when I picked up his newest collection, Falling Up. I got dizzy and looked around. Things got fuzzy. And I threw down.* And I threw down. I LOVE that. L O V E it. My affection for his whimsical poetry and art will never fade. He reminds me of my childhood and visiting my grandparents. He reminds me of my first love and how much it broke my heart. And mostly, he reminds me not to take myself too seriously. I heart Shel Silverstein. *My apologies to Mr. Silverstein if I've gotten the actual lines incorrect. These were from memory and I'm thinking I'm just going to have to pull those books out again soon. Too bad, huh? 3:37 PM | allison | # | Tuesday, May 18 When I was five years old, I had my first role on stage. It was probably one of the least glamorous I've ever played, but memorable none the less. It was the summer of 1983 and I was playing the part of Love-a-lot Bear. Don't laugh. I had to fight hard for that role. They wanted me to be Friend Bear, but I wouldn't do it. I look horrible in orange. But that's hardly my point. It was that summer that I met a girl named J. She was taller than me and had eyes bluer than mine. And long, curly hair that envied more than anything. She was quieter than me; of the two of us, I was the outgoing one. I would play ham and clown for laughs. She would stand in the back watching. She was Wish Bear. For a long time, I only saw her during the summer. We spent two weeks together during July in a summer camp of sorts. It was children's theater; a workshop put on by the same community theatre group I've mentioned a couple of times before. But something clicked between us each summer. During the four precious hours we spent together every morning of those two weeks every summer, we were inseperable. But in junior high, that changed. Her parents scheduled their annual summer fishing vacation during our summer time together. We schemed and planned and begged. It worked. Instead of spending two weeks in a small boat that year, she spent two weeks with my family. And in that short span of time, she became family. After that summer, J and I were inseperable not just during two weeks every summer. We were inseperable all the time. She nearly ate a cow's brain sandwich, thanks to my brother's summertime biology classes. She made her bed every morning and earned the unwavering adoration of my mom and scrunched noses and stares from my brother and me. My dad put her to work in the yard with the rest of us. Us. She became one of us that summer. She was family. *** We had never gone to the same school, so starting in different high schools the fall after she lived with us wasn't a big deal. If anything, it brought us closer. Looking back now, I marvel at how close we became considering how different we were. She was an only child and very much a young woman. I was the oldest of two and struggling to hold on to the tomboy I was in my childhood. I went to an all-girls, Catholic school. She went to a public, very co-ed school. And by this time in our lives, she had become the outgoing one and I was the one standing in the back watching. My hair had gotten curly by then. But I was uncomfortable with the woman I was becoming, physically and mentally. I'll always envy the grace at which J seemed to accept the transition from adolescence to adulthood. I was awkward and uncomfortable most of the time. Except when I was with J. When I was with her, I was me. And she accepted and loved me for it. And I her. I saw in J everything that I wanted to be. And I think she felt the same about me. We had huge hopes for our collective futures. Big dreams and big ideas. She spent more and more time at our house and less at less at her own. My mom and I talked about it a couple of times. We decided that if that's what J wanted and needed, then that's what we would give her. A safe haven, where she could always go. My dad says that home is where they always have to let you in. And our house was that place for J. *** We had jobs at the same television station throughout most of high school. We worked as interns. We worked long hours, did a lot of grunt work and got paid next to nothing. And loved every second of it. I spent a lot of time doing lift and tote and learning everything I could. J spent a lot of time talking and learning everything she could. It was perfect for both of us. I was floor director for a sports talk show; she ran the board and booked guests. And we both worked our asses off and eventually got producing credits on a morning talk show. And throughout our final four years of general education, we still spent two weeks every summer attending our theater workshops. We spent thirteen years there all together. During the curtain call of our final show, we were presented with plaques. We were the only two kids who had started the workshop the same year it began and attended every year since. Thirteen years. At the time, that was more than half our lives. The end of our reign at the summer workshops was hard for me, in more ways that one. The best part of putting on a good show is partying hard after its all over. The summer of our last show was the summer we were both 18 and about ready to go away to college. I had chosen to go to a school in Missouri. J was staying closer to home. And the day of our final show, before strike, before the party, before I got to say goodbye to everyone, my mom and I had to leave. Freshman orientation was waiting for me in Missouri. *** When mom and I returned from Missouri, we had a little reunion because I had missed the cast party. Bittersweet is the only word I can think of to describe it. It was great to see everyone again; to re-live some of our greatest moments. But most of us were 18 and about to leave to begin new chapters of our lives. And we all knew it. Our freshman year of college, J and I kept in touch. We emailed almost daily and called frequently. We sent each other cards and care packages. She and her dad drove to Missouri to pick me up for Christmas holiday. We spent the entire six hour drive home talking non-stop. I'm sure her father was ready to kill us both. That same year, J and another friend came over to our house on Christmas Eve. We stayed up late talking and laughing. I walked them out when they left. I could see our friend pick up J and swing her around. Something was said that I couldn't hear. They both drove off and I didn't see either one of them again for a long time. We still sent cards and emails but less frequently. We stilled talked on the phone but not for hours at a time. Something had changed that Christmas Eve but I didn't know what it was and didn't know how to ask about it. *** Every once in a while, I'll smell the perfume she wore and I'll look around to see if it's her. It makes me wonder what happened that Christmas Eve. If something happened and she associated me and my family with it. Or if anything happened at all. But most of all, it makes me miss her and wonder what kind of woman she's become. I wonder if maybe we found each other too early in our lives and didn't get the chance to really know one another. In high school, we were just beginning to figure out the person we were meant to be. Sometimes you meet yourself on the road before you have a chance to learn the appropriate greeting. Faced with your own possibilities, the hard part is knowing a speech is not required. All you have you have to say is yes. -- Pearl Cleage's What Looks Like Crazy On An Ordinary Day 9:27 PM | allison | # | Monday, May 17 Fun Facts about Ice. Because everyone should know this kind of information. I'm just saying. 4:51 PM | allison | # | Sunday, May 16 Sleeping late. Text messages. Sitting in the sun. Drinking. Laughing. Window shopping. Sitting in the sun. Watching a ball game. My weekend was good. How was yours? 9:05 PM | allison | # | Friday, May 14 This afternoon I have a meeting with my manager and the hiring manager that well, didn't hire me. Instead of the new job, I get a Career Path Development Plan™. Lucky me. I'm not really sure what to expect. I know that this is their way of helping me make sure I'm more prepared and qualified when another position is available and I totally appreciate that. It means I'm doing good work and they want me to stick around. But right now, it just feels like second place. 8:59 AM | allison | # | Wednesday, May 12 After Monday's disappointment, this totally made my day. 
Meebs, you rock. And just an FYI, that's not me in the picture. That guy has hairy arms and no boobs. My arms aren't hairy and I've got boobs. I'm just saying. 1:46 PM | allison | # | I think I've mentioned before that I grew up in a small, Midwestern farmtown. I wanted to make clear, however, that I did not grow up in this small town. Why do I want to make that clear? Because of their penchant for chasing around small, nut-hoarding, furry animals. From Gapers Block, Squirrel Lovers Club. 9:10 AM | allison | # | Tuesday, May 11 It wasn't addressed just to me, but it sure feels like it. To:_All Emp - Chicago 1; _All Emp - Chicago 2; _All Emp - Chicago 3; _All Emp - Dallas Operations; Mary W; Janet S; Lisa B; Jalie P; Karen T; Jill V; Brandy B I could have done without that. 10:33 AM | allison | # | Monday, May 10 I didn't get the job. 9:06 PM | allison | # | Still no word yet on the job. The longer I wait, the more I feel like it's not going to happen for me. But the show went well and Mother's Day was good. 1:15 PM | allison | # | Tuesday, May 4 I had my fourth round interview today. No word yet on what happens next. Everything is making me so tired lately. Not just this job thing either. It's the show. It's the day-old Indian food smell and the plants I can't seem to keep alive. It's my friends. It's my car making funny noises and knowing I can't afford a new one. It's my family. It's the goddamn baby-shit brown carpeting throughout my entire apartment. It's the job. It's the fucking Jesus forwards I get every single day. It's the dirty dishes in the sink and the pile of garbage waiting to be taken down to the dumpster. It's everything. It's life. I don't have the energy to do anything. I'm exhausted all the time. But I can't sleep at night. My mind is racing over a hundred million things and I can't turn it all off. And that's all I want to do and all I can think about doing. Turning it all off. Sometimes, I just want to turn it all off. 9:47 PM | allison | # | Sunday, May 2 Things are starting to look up. The shows went well. But I still haven't heard about the new job yet. My eyes are tired, but aren't red and bloodshot anymore. The laundry is done but I still need to iron. Today was sunny and cool. I did have dinner tonight. The house is still dusty and the dead flowers are still in the vase. I paid the rent but there are some bills due soon. I'm getting there. 7:22 PM | allison | # | |
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