I don't have much to say I guess. I worked Thursday, Friday and Saturday and blissfully was cut on Sunday. Thursday was slow and boring. Friday I worked at Frankie's and enjoyed the live music etc. Saturday was the Halloween party. I dressed up like Minnie Mouse. LOL. It was horrible though. As if it isn't already a horror trying to get through that crowd. Imagine with huge costumes and even more people than usual. I was so crabby and complainy at the end of the night. I'm still getting over being sick last week and I was dead on my feet. But I didn't like who I was at all. I was so relieved to be cut on Sunday that I had to honestly ask myself why I don't just quit now. But two or three more weekends and another $1000 in my pocket is pretty hard to walk away from, no matter how miserable I am. So no decision has been made.
The schedule isn't up for the week yet, but I didn't get called to work tomorrow. So I am heading into the city instead. I think I might hit the field museum. And maybe the aquarium. I wandered up to Navy Pier the other day for an hour or so. Trying to see some of this city while I am here.
I'll start the day out with Mass though. Holy Day of Obligation for those Catholics reading this. Can't say you didn't know now. ;-)
Well, I gotta hit the hay so I am rested up for tomorrow's venture.
I always feel strangely hollow after finishing an enormous book. And with Sharon Kay Penman, it's not just enormous in pages, but in its breadth.
Let me quickly dispel any notion that this book is a religious one, as some might have thought by its title. Sharon Kay Penman is a historical fiction chronicler of Medieval English and Welsh history. Of course, borders were not quite so defined then so France, Normandy, Brittany, Anjou, Flanders, Scotland, Burgundy etc. all play their roles. And lets not forget the ever-present crusades.
The words "when Christ and his saints slept" were actually intoned by a Medieval chronicler to describe the period of time that King Stephen and the Empress Maude fought over the English throne. Having lost his only son in a famed boat wreck, Henry I claimed his daughter Maude, formerly married to the German Emperor and later to Geoffrey of Anjou, as his heir apparent. But after his death, the English people, or rather the barons, were unwilling to pay homage to a woman. Her cousin Stephen claimed the crown and Maude fought him tooth and nail to recapture it. England was ravaged. The commoners bled, burned, starved and died. Soon, the fight turned more for her son, Henry, who should rightfully inherit the crown.
Penman fills her books with battles, politics, intrigue, love and masterful dialogue. Only a handful of characters, if that, are created in her mind to further the stories. For the most part, each event and person is rooted deeply in fact. At the end of each book, she includes an afterward to specify the fact and fancy.
The breadth of her research and the way she forms it into such captivating reading makes anyone want to become a scholar of the Medeival. For just who wouldn't be enthralled by the first meeting in Paris of Henry II (soon to be king) and Eleanor of Aquitaine (then French queen and soon to be the English one).
I, for one, actually went to Wales to follow in the footsteps of Llewelyn Fawr (the Great) after reading Penman's Welsh trilogy starting with Here Be Dragons. I ended up eating an orange-flavored Kit Kat in the kitchen of his 12th century home, now owned by a private citizen. I even dug for artifacts in his yard and ran along the river where he played as a child.
There is almost no greater feeling than to touch such a deep history. To imagine with your eyes and ears, skin and heart, what occurred in a place a thousand years ago. I felt the same as I sat alongside the Sea of Galilee and walked the Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem.
I am a lover of history. A lover of the world and all that has and can happen in it. I might be trapped in an insignificant fragment as I sit in my makeshift room in Plainfield, Illinois. But I want to learn and feel and see and hear as much of it as I can. That's why I read. That's why I travel. That's why I love life.
Thank you to Sharon Kay Penman for elaborating on my knowledge and the breadth of my love. As corny as that may sound.
I've been listening to this book, Fay by Larry Brown, for a long while. It was 15 CDs long. I got it from the library while I was moving from St. Louis and put it on my iPod so I could return it before I left town. So I have been listening on and off for almost two months. Certainly the longest book on CD venture I have had yet.
The story is about a 17-year-old Mississippi girl who runs away from a poor and abusive household and her subsequent adventures. She got herself into some pretty seedy and unredeeming situations, but the writing kept me captivated, and I was invested in what happened to this girl. I enjoyed listening to it.
A great part of the book took place in Biloxi and a little town called Pass Christian. I was very aware while listening that these places no longer look the way they did when this book was written five years ago. In fact, my friend Jeff who lost everything to Katrina said that Pass Christian pretty much doesn't exist anymore. Crazy.
Well, I finally finished the book last night and I have to say I was stunned by the horrible ending. I don't know what more to say. I listened for so long and the ending just sucked. I'm sure the author had a reason. Not every ending is happy. But geesh. That's tough on a reader! One of the unredeeming situations remained unredeemable and that was it. Man!
Already some of my friends might have their interest piqued. Kristen and baseball never come in the same thought. It's so bad that while one of my huge baseball fan friends still patiently answers my questions, the other doesn't even acknowledge I've spoken. Eh. What can I do?
I didn't grow up in a sports family. At all. Yes, my dad had three daughters, but our lack of sports interest was based on his. I don't ever remember watching a sports game in my house as a child. Ever. I bet a lot of you reading this can't even imagine that. I did play basketball my sixth grade year, and I ran track in seventh and eighth. But I didn't pursue anything in highschool. Instead, I was in all twelve theatrical productions.
On my own, I managed to fall in love with Michael Jordan. He wore my favorite number afterall, being born on the 23rd. So I was my own independent Bulls fan for those few years they dominated. Then, at the end of highschool I started dating a jock. Only God knows how I landed the highschool quarterback, who was also a star baseball and basketball player at our little school. He was even featured once on ESPN's sports scholastica or whatever it was called. Point being, I had to learn to appreciate sports a little more for all that I watched with him.
Even though the Quad Cities is closer in proximity to Chicago, it's fairly split between Cardinals and Cubs fans. Ryan (the above boyfriend) was a Cardinals fan and took me to my first game at Busch the summer before college. And then I lived in Missouri for ten years. I've managed to go to a dozen games or more over the years, but mostly I have been a fan on behalf of friends who were so invested in the team, I just wanted to see them happy. And the rest of St. Louis.
The year after Albert Pujols was named Rookie of the Year, I saw him and his wife and baby eating at Yen Chings, my fav Chinese place. I didn't know who he was, only that he was sitting under a picture of himself with the owner. He'd left before we did, so we asked the waiter his identity. For that silly reason alone, I claimed Pujols as my "Cardinals boyfriend". I haven't been sorry.
The last few years, I have been paying closer attention to football and hockey. I love to go to the family arena and watch the Quad City Mallards play the St. Charles River Otters. I've drug many a friend out there. I've been to two Blues games and loved them. But what I am really a sucker for is the Superbowl. You get the two best teams together and there's so much at stake. And there's so much strategy in football. I find it very intriguing.
That's always been my real problem with baseball. It's so slow! And it seems a little less of a team sport. Each player has to get up there and do their own thing- independently pitching or hitting or catching the balls. My baseball fan friends tell me that the strategy is more subtle. Well, yes I figure there are strategies to the lineup and how you will pitch to a certain player and the best place to hit the ball so the guy on second can get to third etc. But even those baseball fanatics admit you kinda had to grow up with it. And my friend Andy who's played all his life says there's something about the smell down on the field after a game - of sweat and beer and plain excitement I guess.
And now I am getting closer to the point, if there is one in this rambling exuse for an entry.
Last night, I was in a small bar called Puffers about five blocks from US Celluar Field where the White Sox were playing. I've watched more baseball in the last few weeks than I have in my life. I've actually been quite upset about the Cardinals derailing. I was absolutely convinced we were going to win it all this year. We were so good and so ready. What happened?
As I sat watching the second game of the World Series surrounded by insane, life-long White Sox fans, I had some epiphanies. I hung on every pitch with the rest of the bar. It's not so bad rooting for the White Sox. First and foremost, they are not the Cubs. Period. Almost enough said. They truly have been the ignored Chicago team for almost all but the southsiders. Then we have the fact that Tony Larussa had a stint up here. And Jerry Reinsdorf himself said when he was accepting the pennant that he was still rooting for the Cardinals.
The epiphany was really just how much I enjoyed watching the game. Maybe I am still just a sucker for the playoffs in any sport. But how can a dramatic person like myself deny the drama in games like this? I really do enjoy sports, I just have never taken the time for them. There's too much else in life. But I can readily admit now that I can see myself being a crazy fan if I ever take the time. And I think someday I will. Afterall, last night was a blast.
In the meantime, I will assure my St. Louis friends that another part of the epiphany is that I realized I have become a Cardinals fan on my own. The White Sox fans jostled me and said I was the newest fan in the bar, and I was being converted etc. And I just told them that while I was happy to take on the Sox as a second team, I would be lying to their faces if I said I wasn't still a Cardinals fan - albeit, one in mourning. I could only think of our players and how much more I'd rather be watching them. I could only think of how quickly they are probably tearing down Busch in order to complete the new stadium on time.
And I could only think that maybe being up here surrounded by this enthusiasm has been some water to a little baseball seed in my soul. LOL.
Let you forget: I work in a sports bar on the south side of Chicago. This fact is a double edged sword. It means we are going to get absolutely slammed this week, starting tonight. It also means that I might make some mad cash. Praying for God's grace to keep my mind and body intact.
There's something about the weather makes falling in love with Jack Johnson that much easier.
Note: Trees are at their peak colors here in Plainfield. Don't miss a thing!
I'm hanging out with my 3 best girlfriends and its great. My friend Co-Bin's house is awesome. The weather has been beautiful. I got to spend good time with my friend whose moving to Germany. It's good to be in St. Louis. I love this city.
It's incredibly hard to leave. And it's been painful because of that.
I've decided that I will see if my schedule gets better at work. If I have another meltdown, I will let my boss know I tried, but I have to move on. I could stay in Chicago a couple weeks to help my sister more and check out the city. I want to make the money if I can hold out, but it's not worth it if I hit the wall like I did Sunday.
I'm driving to St. Louis tonight!
Last night when I went into work, I was still very upset. I pulled my boss aside right away to talk to her about not being able to do four nights in a row anymore. I started to cry and SHE started to cry. She says she does that when other people do. She told me to go home right then, which I gladly did. Then I talked to her this afternoon and she's not putting me on the schedule until Thursday.
My good friend Jeff is coming into St. Louis for the week before he moves to Germany, so I am taking the opportunity to come down for two nights and see him and as many other friends as I can.
At the same time, I kinda need to take it easy. I've been a little sick and I need to be rested to work Thursday, Friday and Saturday. So I cwon't be able to see everyone.
It IS looking like I will likely be back in St. Louis at the new year for three months or so, so I will see everyone else then for sure!
God I am so excited.
God Bless Taco Bell's drive thru for being open til 4 a.m. So when I roll through on my way home from work at 3:30... Yum.
God Bless the lady who runs the window. I told her I was so glad they were open because I was just getting off work and was famished. She said that when she gets off though, nothing is open. Exept McDonalds is just opening, so she can get breakfast.
God Bless the man who makes food behind the lady who runs the window. Tonight he made all my tacos supremes with tomatoes and sour cream when I just ordered regular. The first bite was amazing. But actually, then I realized the sour cream made it heavier. And much fattier! And then I thought maybe he used so much sour cream to cover up the fact that there was less meat. (That magical meat that must be laced with something addictive.) He must be rationing 30 minutes before close- hoping he wouldn't have to make more. God Bless him anyway.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Work was really rough tonight. I spent 20 to 30 minutes in a chest-heaving attempt to hold back a mess of tears around 8:30 or 9. And it's not only that I'm aggravated the Sox are doing better in their series than the Cards! (Go Cards!) I was closer than I ever imagined I could be to walking out. I hate it. I had to admit that every night I pretty much hate it. But tonight was not only a Sox game, but also homecoming weekend for the college about 3 blocks down- North Central. Speaking of which, this girl I grew up with showed up at my table (Gina Nonnenmann) because her fiance went to that school. It was both nice to see a familiar face, and jarring. And I made good decent money, but not awesome. Two dollars more than last night.
But God bless the new girl Cristina who was just cool tonight. When she could, she would go ahead of me and help shoulder through the crowd so they wouldn't topple my extra full tray. And the other girls who can be really nice and helpful. I mean, we HAVE to work as a team. And Leticia the busser/dishwasher from Gudalajara who only speaks Spanish and says I have to meet su mama when I go down there who cleaned up puke off of Deck 1 last night. EWW!
Good night.
I'm starting to wonder if I belong anywhere anymore.
I'm very unhappy here. I basically work all night and day. I have no friends. I have no time to hang out with the couple of people I have met anyway. I've made it into the city once and it was almost a month ago. This weekend (and last) I will work (worked) Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights. It's almost physically impossible for me. The kids can be rewarding, but it is getting harder and harder because, simply, they are not mine. The two and a half year old talks incessantly, oftentimes through naptime- the one supposedly quiet time of the day.
There is no joy in my life. I try to find it. I'm trying to pray. Trying to keep my eyes on the prize. Trying to remember why I am here at all. Trying to figure out if I deserve all that has happened to me in the last several months.
Sometimes a little thing like the stars will lift my spirits. I've never been one for the romantic notion that you and someone else far away are looking at the same stars. But suddenly, it is comforting.
My general plan is to remain here until Thanksgiving. Stay through the holidays in the Quad Cities with my parents and help with the family company. Hang out with my other sister and her family and a few friends I have in the area. Be quiet and try to recover from all the noise in my life right now. And then return to St. Louis until I have enough money to go to Mexico. Hopefully for the session at the end of March including the trip to Puerta Vallarta.
Just now, in the middle of writing this entry, I stopped and talked to my sister for over an hour. It was a really good talk. She told me I could leave at any time and she would hold nothing against me. She doesn't want to play in part in my misery. Really, she's not though. She does what she can. And I wouldn't be here at all if I didn't want to help her. It's just the lifestyle. And the transitions. And the job.
I am making good money here. But I've never been the type to have money be enough of a consolation for misery. If I have to put off Mexico a couple more months, it is worth my sanity. But I do think that I will try another month of self-denial. It's probably good for me. It's definitely good for my bank account.
But even when I leave here, there's so much fear. I don't quite fit here. Or in the Quad Cities. Or in St. Louis anymore.
People call me courageous for trying something new. So many people get stuck in a career or a house or a town and just remain stuck. I decided I wouldn't let that happen to me. But is the price worth it? I simply won't know until I have somehow survived this all. God pray I am a stronger and better person for it.
My brother-in-law says that when one door closes another opens. But right now, I am stuck in the hallway. It seems to be a long hallway.
So I'm home and it's blissful. The kids are here so I'm not totally away from them, but I have been able to have long moments of silence - hanging out at a friend's house last night and waking up late this morning to an empty house. Bliss. I'm heading out now to hike with my 12-year-old niece. It's a perfect day for that. A few joyful moments in a sea of vacancy. Hopefully, I will blog more later.
Well, it looks like after I work Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights, I will be able to take the vacation days I asked for- Monday through Wednesday. I need to go back to the Quads and get some winter clothes. I am SO relieved to get out of here. I just hope I can physically make it through those 4 nights in a row. And I better make more money than I did last night. I have a crying baby on my lap. Later...
Last night, I went to see History of Violence. I didn't like it at all. There wasn't anything original about it. The general idea has been done before and done better - with more to the story. The only attempt at originality came possibly in their attempt at hyper-realism - slower movement, regular sex and incredble gore. And I mean like, really unnecessary gore. I guess Viggo's acting was fine, but several of the other characters were greatly lacking. Like the little girl was a non-entity. I mean, yes, she was only 4 or 5, but we have all seen great little actresses. Aside from her though, maybe the bad acting was really because the script was so lacking. The diologue was just.... blah. Sorry, but this one doesn't get my recommendation.
On the other hand, moviewise, I just rewatched Garden State. Maybe for the fourth or fifth time. What a great movie. I think it keeps getting better. Of course, I have the whole soundtrack memorized now. But the humor and the meaning are just so poignant. A definite five out of five.
Sometimes the movies that move you most are the most difficult to describe, like this Israeli film,Walk On Water. This is the one-sentence description from IMDb: Following the suicide of his wife, an Israeli intelligence agent tasked with offing a Nazi war criminal has a crisis of conscious after he befriends his target's grandson.
Pretty good summation. Maybe I was moved because the first half of the film took place in Israel at places I have been, like the Sea of Galilee, Jerusalem, the Wailing Wall and the Dead Sea.
But this dealing with prejudices, with cleansing yourself of negative thoughts... all wound up around the son of a German-Jewish mother whose family died in camps at the hands of the Nazis befriending the grandson of the very man who ordered the deaths. Throw in this same assasin's anger toward the Palestinians and his extreme prejudice against homosexuality. Show him being reborn after being surrounded by and causing death.
I dunno. Sometimes you rent a foreign film and hate it. Total dud. Like the other Israeli film I rented a while back, Kedma. And sometimes you find a really awesome one like Ciudade De Deus, or Walk on Water. That's why I keep renting them. And obviously, I highly recommend this one.