baby migraines and starfish arms

A scrap of something I wrote the other morning.

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03/18/2006

It’s the edge of a migraine this morning
a rusty scimitar, a dirty crescent moon
stuck on the right rear quadrant of my skull
the kind that makes me debate whether to blow an Imitrex on this one
knowing it’ll be gone for sure
or take my chances with OTC stuff that sometimes works
and sometimes leaves the pain untouched, leaves it to grow
like a few bad cells still hanging on
the starfish arm that could grow a brand new misery
whole, entire
wrapping its arms around my head, over one eye
it waits like a promise

yummy yummy good

So last night, after Eric Z’s show at Schuba’s (lovely lovely), a band called Hopewell came on before Canasta comprised of some former Mercury Rev members. Have you ever seen a band that was so good and so…together, that at first you were snarkily tempted to not like them? Yeah. It was one of those. I kept looking for chinks, trying to be annoyed by things, cranky sleepy lady that I was, but man oh man, there just wasn’t anything to grab onto, and down I slid.

They came on, and Petra and I discussed that they were one of the most buttless bands we have ever seen. Very skinny. Like 60’s Stones skinny, significant daylight between the legs skinny, the guitarists and bassist, anyway (the keyboardist and drummer–man, were they great–were a little burlier). The singer squalled–whoops, there he went, a little bit higher–guitars crunchy crunched, drummer kept us all in suspense, then gave us just what we were waiting for, and the keyboards were exactly what we didn’t know we were missing, and the whole thing sailed right into my little heart. Rock rock rock. It was so easy to like that I was suspicious at first, that’s all. I don’t usually fall so quick. I got over it speedily.

During the first part of the set, the singer kept calling out the main themes of each song, and he’d list them off on his fingers: “Love, People Leaving, and now, God.”
“What about Murder?” Someone heckled.
“We’re gettin’ to that!” he called back, as the drummer counted off.

So, what position do you play?

At a salsa club called Buzz the other night, I was hanging out with a couple of Dominican friends y conocidos. (I’ve noticed something interesting about certain Carribean people I’ve met: when hanging out with one Cuban or Dominican, I tend to become acquainted with every other Cuban or Dominican in the damn club within the next 15 minutes. Seriously. Hasn’t proved to be the same for Puerto Ricans, but there are so many Boricuas en Chicago, that maybe it’s sort of a moot point.) So yeah, one guy I know introduced me to another Dominican friend of his, who told me that I should come over to the VIP booth for a drink to meet a couple of the White Sox he had over there (also-you guessed it-Dominicans). I’m sure he didn’t realize I was married, but I thought, “Sure, yeah, I’ll go for this.” So I went over and sat down with three rather sheepish-looking young men and introduced myself to Juan, su hermano Matia, y another guy whose name I can’t remember. I chatted with Juan, got to speak a little Spanish. I told him yes, I do like baseball, but I’ll always be a Tigers girl, and I was a catcher myself en escuela, but no, I wasn’t very good, “Porque no tenía mucha confidencia.” Then I found out that he’s numero 5, the shortstop, and was informed yesterday by Craig that I was talking with no less than starting shortstop Juan Uribe (a name I would have recognized more readily than the number, or even the face). Craig was also curious about whether Uribe was wearing his new ring, <a href=”http://atlanta.braves.mlb.com/NASApp/mlb/news/article.jsp?ymd=20060406&content_id=1386976&vkey=news_mlb&fext=.jsp&c_id=mlbwhich he was. I finished my drink and declined a second; he asked why not, then said “Oh, are you driving?” I said I was, and he said, very solemnly, “Oh yes, then you shouldn’t.”

it kinda snuck up on me

I’ve been losing weight slowly, since I started taking this one medication that’s supposed to help reduce the frequency of my migraines (when I say the phrase, “frequency of migraines,” I picture them like blips on a radar, waves on an endless strip of paper). Weight loss is one of the side effects, and I didn’t even seriously consider that it would actually happen. I started taking it in November, and didn’t notice the weight loss, even after people started insisting that I was, not until I tried on some old pants, then went to the store and tried on some new pants. It’s not a ton, maybe ten or so pounds, give or take.

My objective and yours

I recently revised my resume. It now fits on two pages and is much easier to read! And my objective makes much more sense, especially for the job I just applied for!

I would like you to post a comment with the objective from your resume, if you have one. And if you tend to customize your objective based on the job you’re applying for (smarty pantses that you are), even better; post a couple.

I can’t remember mine off the top of my head right now. It came to me all in a flash on Monday, a burst of resumeic inspiration! Hopefully I’ll still think it’s good when I look at my resume when I get home. I’ll add it to this entry then…

Okay, here I am. It is now the future!

“To engage with youth in arts-based community work while pursuing my own artistic development.”

(I applied for a job as a teaching artist, or artist-in-residence, so they kind of expect you to have your own art life. Which is kind of the idea. Of me changing jobs, I mean. One of many reasons. Many many.)

Here’s my old one:

“To contribute to the successful operation of a meaningful service-oriented company or organization through my excellent writing, speaking, and interpersonal skills, while utilizing my creativity and the benefits of my life experiences.”

(UGH. Bo-ring. And long as hell.)

Okay, I have another idea! Here we go…

Objective:

“To have less than 40 hours per week committed to a ‘job,’ (in fact, I’d prefer not to have just one job at all, if possible; I’d really like to divide my time between community work, writing/publishing, and other kinds of work and study–sort of a hybrid lifestyle), but to make around the same amount of money, to write every day, to go for walks, see my husband more, to cook dinner more often, OOH OOH AND to keep working on my Spanish, and thus take extended trips abroad every so often. Kids? Um, I don’t know…well, yeah!…yeah, maybe. I don’t know. Sure, yeah. I’d love to have kids. I mean, just not right this minute.”

What do you think?