I finally saw the movie men who stare at goats. aside from the fact that it's pretty damn funny there's a quote in there that kind of inspired me and made me think...
"Your life is like a river and if you're aiming for a goal that isn't your destiny, you'll always be swimming against the current. Find out what your destiny is and the river will carry you."
*pause for epiphany*
everything we don't want to do automatically becomes more difficult then it needs to be because it takes more effort to it when you don't want to. brushing your teeth, getting dressed, fixing your hair, and so forth are mundane tasks we do everyday, yet the reason for doing these things can make all the difference. Doing your daily routine to go to the job you hate or a function you have no interest in going to can be so much more taxing and obnoxious then when you do them to go out with friends or o a date. the routines are fairly the same but when you don't want to do it it feels like swimming against the current. so is the reason behind feeling like life has been such a struggle so far because i've been going down the wrong path? yes, i believe it is! i've never found what i truly wanted to do in life and even though i've been fairly successful in the jobs i've done i haven't found happiness in them......until now!!
when i walked in those doors i felt an energy, an energy that i've been looking for for a long time. as i sat through the presentation and went on the tour my excitement grew. everyone there was so happy to be there and had nothing but inspiring things to say. as i walked by and saw students hard at work (here's the kicker) with smiles on their faces i wanted nothing more then to feel that joy. to feel that passion that people talk about when they're doing what they love and excel at it. it was a high that i envied and wanted to know where i had to sign to get it. turns out in the next few days they showed me exactly where to sign ad it was that easy.
as soon as i graduated grammar school my best friend and i started dying and cutting our hair ourselves. i never looked at it as a career option, but as a way to express myself until i was old enough to get tattooed and have the knowledge and freedom to find out who i really was. turns out 13 years later i had it right back then. my mom always told me to become a cosmetologist, but i assumed i should aim higher and away from what my mother thought was best for me. turned out she was right. i love doing hair, i've always loved it. i'm a hands on kind of person and love nothing more then making people smile. originally i thought this would be accomplished in nursing, but after a lifetime of taking care of sick family that acceptance letter brought me zero joy. walking through this university/salon gave me butterflies. i finally felt like i was being carried down that river. i'll finally have a career instead of a job, i will be able to be myself without having to hide my tattoos, i'll be able to make people feel good, make a decent living doing it, and the best part is i can do it anywhere! that's been the dream for so long that i'm willing to do whatever it takes now, including the insane hours i'm going to have to pull for 16 months to do it and the idea of possibly finding my destiny is worth every second.
so here i am, ready to start a new chapter and finally start that new beginning i've been dreaming about.
wish me luck
September 02, 2010
August 12, 2010
annie waits...
i feel like as time passes this song becomes more and more relatable......i'm pretty sure that's not a good thing
Annie Waits by Ben Folds
And so
Annie waits, Annie waits, Annie waits
For a call
From a friend
The same
It's the same
Was it always the same?
Annie waits for the last time
The clock never stops, never stops, never waits
She's growing old
It's getting late
And so he forgot, he forgot
Maybe not
Maybe he's been seriously hurt
Would that be worse?
Headlights crest the hill
Shadows pass her by and out of sight
Annie sees her dreams:
Friday bingo, pigeons in the park
Annie waits for the last time
Just the same as the last time
Annie says "You see this is why I'd rather be alone."
And so
Annie waits, Annie waits, Annie waits
For a call
From a friend
The same
It's the same
Was it always the same?
Annie waits as the last...
Headlights crest the hill
Who will be the one for evermore?
(ooh ooh)
Annie, I could be
If we're both still lonely when we're old
Annie waits for the last time
Just the same as the last time
Annie waits for the last time
Just the same as the last time
Annie waits
But not for me
Annie Waits by Ben Folds
And so
Annie waits, Annie waits, Annie waits
For a call
From a friend
The same
It's the same
Was it always the same?
Annie waits for the last time
The clock never stops, never stops, never waits
She's growing old
It's getting late
And so he forgot, he forgot
Maybe not
Maybe he's been seriously hurt
Would that be worse?
Headlights crest the hill
Shadows pass her by and out of sight
Annie sees her dreams:
Friday bingo, pigeons in the park
Annie waits for the last time
Just the same as the last time
Annie says "You see this is why I'd rather be alone."
And so
Annie waits, Annie waits, Annie waits
For a call
From a friend
The same
It's the same
Was it always the same?
Annie waits as the last...
Headlights crest the hill
Who will be the one for evermore?
(ooh ooh)
Annie, I could be
If we're both still lonely when we're old
Annie waits for the last time
Just the same as the last time
Annie waits for the last time
Just the same as the last time
Annie waits
But not for me
August 06, 2010
the not so tough tough girl
i always thought it was ironic that people assume i'm so tough. they see me, covered in tattoos and a pretty even demeanor and think, "she's a tough girl." to an extent i like to agree with that statement. i look back at a lot of things that have happened just in the last year. it all started with my dad was falling out of bed and yelled to my mom for help, startled out of her sleep she fell out of her bed and face planted into the tile floor. she shattered her humerus (upper arm) and busted her nose. i got the call and rushed to the emergency room. when i got there she was covered in blood and holding her arm yelling that she was going to divorce my dad when she got home (empty threats). diagnosis was she had to have surgery so they cold place a metal plate in her arm to stabilize the bone. her surgery was scheduled for a week later which was of course the day my roommate and i were moving into our new apartment. i spent the rest of that week working, packing, and going to my parent's house to help take care of not only my mom, but my dad who she always took care of. it was exhausting to say the least. the rest of my family was with her the day of her surgery so i could move. the next morning i went to see her and spent the night at the hospital with her. when she came home my sister and i tag teamed taking care of our parents. the first time i had to bathe my mom she cried so i did everything i could to make her laugh and as she laughed through her tears i cried on the inside. three months into her recovery my sister and i were mentally and physically exhausted and angela, being someone who has always struggled just to get herself through life had been brought to her limit. on more then one occasion she called me crying and hyperventilating because she couldn't take it anymore. panic attacks had become a regular burden. i would try to relax her and we would breath together on the phone until the rhythm of our breaths became equal and steady. she would cry and say she was sorry for doing this to me. i always did everything to reassure her that there's nothing else in this world more important to me then her being ok. a week later she asked me to come over. she sat me down outside with her boyfriend and told me that she finally went to the doctor like i recommended and her doctor told her if she didn't go straight home and tell two people what she told her she'd have to go to the hospital. she was getting choked up and teary eyed. i grabbed her hand, looked at her, and asked, "what happened?" she said, "i wrote a letter because everyday i don't know how to go on and no longer have the will to try. i think my heart actually stopped for a few seconds. without even feeling the tears streaming down my face i pleaded with her not to leave me alone and for two hours we talked about how to make things better. suicide watch with my sister lasted for three months. i only remember it being that long because my dad went back into the hospital three months later. this time he had a pacemaker put in. a month after returning home he went to the doctor for shortness of breath and she admitted him that day back into the hospital. fluid had built up in his lungs again, which had happened quite a few times in the past because of his congestive heart failure. after they drained 12 pounds of fluid from his lungs he came home. he was only home for about 5 or 6 days when my sister called me. she was irate on the phone because my dad was having trouble breathing again and my mom wanted to give him dinner before they went to the hospital. i told her to calm down and i would call mom to see what was going on. angela was not home that night. i called my mom and she explained that dad was short of breath. she was smart to give him dinner first because as a diabetic and a man who takes 12 pills a day he had to eat and get some insulin in him. she asked me to come over so i rushed there. it was january 28th. when i got there i looked at his face and i knew he was exhausted and hurting. i called 911 and they came to help us. by law they have to take him to the nearest hospital which was resurrection and i refuse to let him go there again because they almost killed him last time and my friend's dad died there in the past year. so they cleared him to be stable enough to let me drive him to his regular hospital. it took half an hour to get him to the car. he panted and paused as we stood in the snow. after i got both of my parents in the car and my dad's oxygen on him i closed the door and looked up at one of the emts. he looked at me and said this is the last time you should ever do this by yourself, it's too much. little did i know he was right. that was the last time my dad ever sat in his car or our house. he died a week later in the hospital. the week that led up to his death was one of the hardest in my life. he had been in and out of hospitals for years and always bounced back, but that whole week things just got worse. his sugar dropped to 27 when it should be at least in the 90's. he couldn't speak and was covered in sweat, my mom and i stood in the hallway watching people run in and out of the room. i squeezed my mom's hand and said everything is ok as long as they don't call a code. seconds later i heard the nurse yell out, "should i call code blue?" i squeezed my mom's hand and held my breath until i heard someone reply to her with a no. (exhale) after that day he was never fully right, to this day i think he suffered a bit of brain damage from not having enough sugar to fuel his brain. when he looked at me it was almost as if his eyes looked straight through me into the distance, like he was seeing something that no one else could. i went to see him everyday up until the day he died. the night before i let my mom go home and i stayed with him. i rubbed his shoulders and tried to help him be more comfortable, he just stared at me and then at the tv screen. when i left i said goodbye and kissed him on the cheek, but for some reason i forget to tell him i love you. the next day they brought him downstairs to run a test and he died on the table. the next few weeks were a blur and i could only recall certain details.
so as i sit back and think about all of this that happened only in an 11 month period i agree. i am a pretty tough girl. yet, at the same time these things have slowly chipped away at me and taken a lot of that strength. so i think that now, more then ever i am sensitive and fragile at times and as much as i hate to admit it, hurt easily. you may never see me show it, but that doesn't mean that i don't need or deserve the same respects as everyone else. i can handle rejection and i can handle the truth i can't handle being left without a clue of what happened because i don't have the strength back yet to figure it out on my own.
*this is not what i would consider a good writing piece, nor was it intended to be a sob story. it was just something that i guess i needed to say.
so as i sit back and think about all of this that happened only in an 11 month period i agree. i am a pretty tough girl. yet, at the same time these things have slowly chipped away at me and taken a lot of that strength. so i think that now, more then ever i am sensitive and fragile at times and as much as i hate to admit it, hurt easily. you may never see me show it, but that doesn't mean that i don't need or deserve the same respects as everyone else. i can handle rejection and i can handle the truth i can't handle being left without a clue of what happened because i don't have the strength back yet to figure it out on my own.
*this is not what i would consider a good writing piece, nor was it intended to be a sob story. it was just something that i guess i needed to say.
July 24, 2010
tid bits
i found an old note book that had pages full of what i called tid bits. most of them are old some of them are new and most of them are fiction.
today i laid in the grass and stared at the sky for hours. the clouds shifted, the sun set, and the earth rotated, but i am exactly the same.
i drove around listening to music hoping someone would call, no one did, so i just kept driving.
there's something about you, there always was. i never thought i would get this chance. i'm constantly scared i'll screw it up.
you dropped your bag and everything spilled out onto the street. i helped you pick everything up, you looked up at me, eyes full of tears and said thank you, i smiled at you and said your welcome. i think about you every once in a while and still wonder what made you so sad that day. i don't even know your name.
i just want to know what it feels like to have your lips pressed against mine.
i saw an elderly woman at the store today struggling to put her groceries in her cart, her shaky weathered hands took what seemed like forever to get money out of her wallet. she didn't say a word and when i offered to help her she shook her head no. she gave off a feeling of acceptance to her loneliness. i felt so bad for her and when i got to my car a wave of fear came over me that a future like that could be mine.
you make me want to be a better person, that is so rare.
you laid in my bed and stared into my eyes. you held my hand and for only a moment you pressed your lips onto mine. you told me there was no one in this world that made you happier. you said, "i think you could be my soul mate." then without as much as a blink or a breath you said, "if only you were more attractive." as much as i understand it and appreciate the honesty part of my heart will never recover from that night.
you loved me more then anyone i've ever been with, you saw me for who i really am, you appreciated my heart, and forgave my flaws as if they were just quirks. you wanted no one but me, why couldn't i just love you back?
there's nothing like the smell of the pages of a really really old book.
every night i go to sleep with a slight fear that nothing will ever change.
beware of those who don't like animals
today i laid in the grass and stared at the sky for hours. the clouds shifted, the sun set, and the earth rotated, but i am exactly the same.
i drove around listening to music hoping someone would call, no one did, so i just kept driving.
there's something about you, there always was. i never thought i would get this chance. i'm constantly scared i'll screw it up.
you dropped your bag and everything spilled out onto the street. i helped you pick everything up, you looked up at me, eyes full of tears and said thank you, i smiled at you and said your welcome. i think about you every once in a while and still wonder what made you so sad that day. i don't even know your name.
i just want to know what it feels like to have your lips pressed against mine.
i saw an elderly woman at the store today struggling to put her groceries in her cart, her shaky weathered hands took what seemed like forever to get money out of her wallet. she didn't say a word and when i offered to help her she shook her head no. she gave off a feeling of acceptance to her loneliness. i felt so bad for her and when i got to my car a wave of fear came over me that a future like that could be mine.
you make me want to be a better person, that is so rare.
you laid in my bed and stared into my eyes. you held my hand and for only a moment you pressed your lips onto mine. you told me there was no one in this world that made you happier. you said, "i think you could be my soul mate." then without as much as a blink or a breath you said, "if only you were more attractive." as much as i understand it and appreciate the honesty part of my heart will never recover from that night.
you loved me more then anyone i've ever been with, you saw me for who i really am, you appreciated my heart, and forgave my flaws as if they were just quirks. you wanted no one but me, why couldn't i just love you back?
there's nothing like the smell of the pages of a really really old book.
every night i go to sleep with a slight fear that nothing will ever change.
beware of those who don't like animals
July 21, 2010
let it ride...
walking through the doors you are engulfed with frigid air, all of your senses are instantly stimulated. your eyes darting back and forth from all the bright flashing lights and the hoards of people walking in every direction. simultaneously your ears ring with multiple arrangements of beeps, bells, whistles, music, and yelling. your nose is filled with the smell of fake recirculated oxygen, perfumed air freshener, and clouds of smoke. your blood pressure immediately rises.
One of the greatest things about a casino is the people watching. people of all ages, ethnicities, backgrounds, and personalitites. there are pros and there are amateurs and believe me you can tell the difference. if your a professional the real question to ask is what kind? are you old vegas or new vegas? personally i love the old vegas pros. older women who take everything over the top. big hair, over tanned, lots of jewelry, bright long nails, and a 4 pack a day habit that gives them an older slightly raspy voice. they know the casino like the back of their hands and i found one of the best. "i wonder where the .25 cent wheel of fortune machines are?" she heard me and replied with, "honey, go straight and then take a right at the top dollar machines then walk all the way to the back past the wizard of oz machines. you'll see some there but they're not big payers so take another right and you'll see some on the left!"
left in amazment all i could do was smile and say thanks! her name was dottie but her friends called her dot. now that's old vegas. new vegas pros are high rollers that like to show off and have the biggest suite in the hotel. all the clubs have their names on a list and lines don't exist for them. they're usually cocky and aren't very friendly to anyone without a wad of cash or a skin tight dress on.....i think i'll go sit with dottie! dottie was a mother of five, a grandmother to 9, and a widow to two. she's been coming to vegas every year for the past 23 years, but last year she came three times. "honey, when you're as old as me you realize your priorities in life, mine is the thrill of the casino! it keeps me young and gives me something to blow my money on instead of my no good kids and ungrateful grandchildren." Dottie starts to go into detail about her shitty daughters and how all they want is her jewelry and her bastard sons who want to put her in a home and take her money. at this point i am consumed and can't even be distracted with gambling. dottie orders us some drinks from the waitress and giggles as she walks away. I ask, "what's so funny?" she giggles louder, leans in, and says, "honey, when i was 30 i had better tits then that girl and i didn't have to pay for em!" i couldn't help but laugh. i quickly learned that dottie says what everyone else is thinking and can get away with it by acting like she has early onset dementia. i already love her and wish she could be my grandma dot. Dottie passes me a cigarette, i put my hand up saying thank you but i'm trying to quit. dottie laughs and replies with, "honey, we're all trying to quit something and life is too short to bother." because i just don't have the heart to say no to dottie i take it and she lights it for me with her bedazzled gold lighter. this whole time dottie hasn't missed a bet, her hands dance between the buttons of the machine, to ashing her cigarette, to taking a sip of her drink, to talking shit about people as they walk by without missing a beat. she asks me about my life. she wants to know what my parents are like, if i've ever been in love, what i want to do with my life, and what was the best sex i've ever had. nothing about dottie makes me hesitant so i have no problem telling her all about anything she wants to know. she wants to know if i have a man in my life and if the answer is no why the hell not. i tell her about my parents and that i lost my dad in february. i tell her about my older sister and how i rarely get to be the younger sibling. i give her the cliff notes on my hopes and what i'm afraid of. i tell her i've had some great sex but i hope the best is still to come. she roars with laughter saying that's the best answer she's ever heard and i've earned the honor of calling her dot. she listens patiently and as soon as i finish she glares and asks, "so, what about the man? get to the juicy stuff honey, i'm too old to have to wait for the good stuff!" i put out the second cigarette she's pushed on me, take a sip of my drink, and a deep breath." i hate to dissapoint you dot but there's nothing too juicy to tell at the moment, i've been spending time with someone but it's too early for details. "non sense sweetie, it's never too early for details!" since i can see she's not giving up i give her all the details, more details then i've given anyone else in fact. "annie" which was the first time she said my actual name. "i'm going to tell you something and you listen good. i've been around a long time and i can tell you are an old soul with a heart of gold. you've been through a lot and you'll go through a lot more. i may not know everything, but i know this, you're going to be great! my eyes start to well with tears and it takes every ounce of strength not to let them run down my cheeks. she puts her wrinkled paper like hands on mine. "whether it's this man or the next you will love and be loved because you're not capable of doing anything less. you mark my words honey. i'm never wrong about these things." trying to hold it together i look up at dot's smiling pink lips and smile back. "dot, that's the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me and i will remember it always, thank you!" she patted my hands, smiled and said, "honey, this has been great, but you're starting to distract me from the game." i laugh and get up to leave, as i start walking away dot yells out, "don't forget to thank me in your book!" all i could do was smile. dot was a lot of things to a lot of people. to me for those few short moments she was a friend, a confidant, and above all an old pro!
One of the greatest things about a casino is the people watching. people of all ages, ethnicities, backgrounds, and personalitites. there are pros and there are amateurs and believe me you can tell the difference. if your a professional the real question to ask is what kind? are you old vegas or new vegas? personally i love the old vegas pros. older women who take everything over the top. big hair, over tanned, lots of jewelry, bright long nails, and a 4 pack a day habit that gives them an older slightly raspy voice. they know the casino like the back of their hands and i found one of the best. "i wonder where the .25 cent wheel of fortune machines are?" she heard me and replied with, "honey, go straight and then take a right at the top dollar machines then walk all the way to the back past the wizard of oz machines. you'll see some there but they're not big payers so take another right and you'll see some on the left!"
left in amazment all i could do was smile and say thanks! her name was dottie but her friends called her dot. now that's old vegas. new vegas pros are high rollers that like to show off and have the biggest suite in the hotel. all the clubs have their names on a list and lines don't exist for them. they're usually cocky and aren't very friendly to anyone without a wad of cash or a skin tight dress on.....i think i'll go sit with dottie! dottie was a mother of five, a grandmother to 9, and a widow to two. she's been coming to vegas every year for the past 23 years, but last year she came three times. "honey, when you're as old as me you realize your priorities in life, mine is the thrill of the casino! it keeps me young and gives me something to blow my money on instead of my no good kids and ungrateful grandchildren." Dottie starts to go into detail about her shitty daughters and how all they want is her jewelry and her bastard sons who want to put her in a home and take her money. at this point i am consumed and can't even be distracted with gambling. dottie orders us some drinks from the waitress and giggles as she walks away. I ask, "what's so funny?" she giggles louder, leans in, and says, "honey, when i was 30 i had better tits then that girl and i didn't have to pay for em!" i couldn't help but laugh. i quickly learned that dottie says what everyone else is thinking and can get away with it by acting like she has early onset dementia. i already love her and wish she could be my grandma dot. Dottie passes me a cigarette, i put my hand up saying thank you but i'm trying to quit. dottie laughs and replies with, "honey, we're all trying to quit something and life is too short to bother." because i just don't have the heart to say no to dottie i take it and she lights it for me with her bedazzled gold lighter. this whole time dottie hasn't missed a bet, her hands dance between the buttons of the machine, to ashing her cigarette, to taking a sip of her drink, to talking shit about people as they walk by without missing a beat. she asks me about my life. she wants to know what my parents are like, if i've ever been in love, what i want to do with my life, and what was the best sex i've ever had. nothing about dottie makes me hesitant so i have no problem telling her all about anything she wants to know. she wants to know if i have a man in my life and if the answer is no why the hell not. i tell her about my parents and that i lost my dad in february. i tell her about my older sister and how i rarely get to be the younger sibling. i give her the cliff notes on my hopes and what i'm afraid of. i tell her i've had some great sex but i hope the best is still to come. she roars with laughter saying that's the best answer she's ever heard and i've earned the honor of calling her dot. she listens patiently and as soon as i finish she glares and asks, "so, what about the man? get to the juicy stuff honey, i'm too old to have to wait for the good stuff!" i put out the second cigarette she's pushed on me, take a sip of my drink, and a deep breath." i hate to dissapoint you dot but there's nothing too juicy to tell at the moment, i've been spending time with someone but it's too early for details. "non sense sweetie, it's never too early for details!" since i can see she's not giving up i give her all the details, more details then i've given anyone else in fact. "annie" which was the first time she said my actual name. "i'm going to tell you something and you listen good. i've been around a long time and i can tell you are an old soul with a heart of gold. you've been through a lot and you'll go through a lot more. i may not know everything, but i know this, you're going to be great! my eyes start to well with tears and it takes every ounce of strength not to let them run down my cheeks. she puts her wrinkled paper like hands on mine. "whether it's this man or the next you will love and be loved because you're not capable of doing anything less. you mark my words honey. i'm never wrong about these things." trying to hold it together i look up at dot's smiling pink lips and smile back. "dot, that's the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me and i will remember it always, thank you!" she patted my hands, smiled and said, "honey, this has been great, but you're starting to distract me from the game." i laugh and get up to leave, as i start walking away dot yells out, "don't forget to thank me in your book!" all i could do was smile. dot was a lot of things to a lot of people. to me for those few short moments she was a friend, a confidant, and above all an old pro!
July 11, 2010
This is a piece I started working on that's still in it's first drafts. I still haven't quite decided what to do with it, but here goes nothing.
The hour and a half getaway
On any normal day driving down 294 would not be considered a relaxing drive, but the destination can make all the difference. My aunt and Uncle bought a home in Union pier Michigan over nine years ago and for those nine years it’s been my safe haven, my retreat, and my place to go and regroup when life pushes me to the limits. A short hour and a half drive that brought you from the city of Chicago to a whole different world. It’s a world I grew to love immediately. A place that gave me a new respect for the state of Indiana only because it’s what brings you to Michigan and makes the hour drive through the smelliest state in the Midwest completely worthwhile. Once outside the city and suburban limits the highway becomes lined with trees so full and thick it blocks out the rest of the world. Being someone who’s always driven everywhere and has completed 13 hour drives in one day alone I find the drive to be quick yet just long enough to be relaxing. As the “Pure as Michigan” sign breaks over the hill of the highway your body can actually feel the short six miles left in your trip. It was just enough warning to slow down and get ready to relax in what people from the city would consider the country. Exiting at union pier and turning right onto old country road my muscle memory guides me to Locke road in the pitch-black night. I always turn my music off at this point because the combination of the darkness and the silence sends pulses of excitement through my skin. Turning left onto the private dirt road and taking it all the way to the back until I see the glint of light shining off the porch. I’ve already forgotten all of the troubles I’ve left behind me at home. Arriving during the day you’re greeted by birds chirping, sun shining, and trees older then the house itself. Arriving at night you’re greeted by the sounds of crickets, a few bugs, a frog or two, and if you’re lucky a deer. You feel the warmness of the home immediately. You walk in and immediately get a welcoming feeling. In front of you is a wood-burning fireplace, to the left is the master bedroom and bath, upstairs are two more bedrooms and a bathroom, and to your right is the kitchen. A mixture of vintage and antique touches combined with everyday items keeps it from being just one specific theme. I put my bags down and open the sliding glass door off the kitchen to step out onto the screened in porch and take a deep breath. To me there is nothing like the smell of the forest combined with the sound of the train passing by that is just loud enough to put me at ease. A lot of people find the closeness of the train to be unsettling to me it brings a smile. Instead of sleeping late I find myself waking up early to the perfect amount of light that streams through the windows shadowing all the trees on It’s one place I never want to waste time sleeping. After a morning cup of coffee there’s plenty of great restaurant choices. One of my favorites places to go for breakfast is Marilyn's. Marilyn’s restaurant is on red arrow highway and less then 10 minutes from the house, you’ll notice it by the sign with the big red lips smacked over the name. Depending on what the weather is you’ll usually see Marilyn herself sitting in front of the restaurant drinking coffee and chain-smoking what appears to be Virginia slims. Her lips are as red as the sign and she greats you with an exhale and a hello. Inside the décor is simple yet unique. The tables and chairs are all black wood and there’s small bakery section in the back. Lined across the walls like a border are pictures of her customers enjoying the locally grown freshly made food. Which I always thought was a bold and great idea. You see all the happy faces cheeks full or ready to take a bite and you want whatever they’re eating that seems to be making them so happy. After her cigarette Marilyn usually makes her rounds to the tables in the restaurant to say hello and give you a moment to brag about the delicious food. Up close you get a moment for a better look at Marilyn herself. She has a face that appears to have been through a lot whether that be years of possible drug use, a three pack a day smoking habit, or even the possibility of a surgically enhanced change. You can’t help but create your own backstory to Marilyn’s life. Every time I go there I come up with another one. My favorite and I think most attainable is the one where she was a regular at studio 54 and did mountains of blow with Andy Warhol. Which would explain a lot about her now. She would be a VIP guest and never had to pay for her drinks or drugs, which is why there was no need to ever create a limit of any sort. No matter what elaborate tail you create in your head it never outshines Marilyn’s friendly demeanor and hospitality. Last time I was there she asked me about my tattoos and spoke of her daughter who now has five. As I watch her ruby red lips cracked and creased with age and nicotine speak of her daughter all I can think is that she was conceived on a couch in the VIP section on a slow Thursday night
Ten miles down the road from Marilyn’s you are back in Indiana in a city ironically named Michigan City. There you can find everything one could ask for from a horse ranch to a CVS and grocery store, to the outlet mall with the nuclear power plant serenely placed in the background.
“Come shop for name brands with discount prices, just don’t drink the water if you have a fear of possible fishes with three eyes.” About 15 miles west you’ll find tons of galleries, restaurants, and farmland. Six miles to the north is lake Michigan which you’ve never seen look so clean or beautiful and if you close your eyes and listen to the waves rolling into the shore you can trick yourself into thinking it’s the ocean.
The hour and a half getaway
On any normal day driving down 294 would not be considered a relaxing drive, but the destination can make all the difference. My aunt and Uncle bought a home in Union pier Michigan over nine years ago and for those nine years it’s been my safe haven, my retreat, and my place to go and regroup when life pushes me to the limits. A short hour and a half drive that brought you from the city of Chicago to a whole different world. It’s a world I grew to love immediately. A place that gave me a new respect for the state of Indiana only because it’s what brings you to Michigan and makes the hour drive through the smelliest state in the Midwest completely worthwhile. Once outside the city and suburban limits the highway becomes lined with trees so full and thick it blocks out the rest of the world. Being someone who’s always driven everywhere and has completed 13 hour drives in one day alone I find the drive to be quick yet just long enough to be relaxing. As the “Pure as Michigan” sign breaks over the hill of the highway your body can actually feel the short six miles left in your trip. It was just enough warning to slow down and get ready to relax in what people from the city would consider the country. Exiting at union pier and turning right onto old country road my muscle memory guides me to Locke road in the pitch-black night. I always turn my music off at this point because the combination of the darkness and the silence sends pulses of excitement through my skin. Turning left onto the private dirt road and taking it all the way to the back until I see the glint of light shining off the porch. I’ve already forgotten all of the troubles I’ve left behind me at home. Arriving during the day you’re greeted by birds chirping, sun shining, and trees older then the house itself. Arriving at night you’re greeted by the sounds of crickets, a few bugs, a frog or two, and if you’re lucky a deer. You feel the warmness of the home immediately. You walk in and immediately get a welcoming feeling. In front of you is a wood-burning fireplace, to the left is the master bedroom and bath, upstairs are two more bedrooms and a bathroom, and to your right is the kitchen. A mixture of vintage and antique touches combined with everyday items keeps it from being just one specific theme. I put my bags down and open the sliding glass door off the kitchen to step out onto the screened in porch and take a deep breath. To me there is nothing like the smell of the forest combined with the sound of the train passing by that is just loud enough to put me at ease. A lot of people find the closeness of the train to be unsettling to me it brings a smile. Instead of sleeping late I find myself waking up early to the perfect amount of light that streams through the windows shadowing all the trees on It’s one place I never want to waste time sleeping. After a morning cup of coffee there’s plenty of great restaurant choices. One of my favorites places to go for breakfast is Marilyn's. Marilyn’s restaurant is on red arrow highway and less then 10 minutes from the house, you’ll notice it by the sign with the big red lips smacked over the name. Depending on what the weather is you’ll usually see Marilyn herself sitting in front of the restaurant drinking coffee and chain-smoking what appears to be Virginia slims. Her lips are as red as the sign and she greats you with an exhale and a hello. Inside the décor is simple yet unique. The tables and chairs are all black wood and there’s small bakery section in the back. Lined across the walls like a border are pictures of her customers enjoying the locally grown freshly made food. Which I always thought was a bold and great idea. You see all the happy faces cheeks full or ready to take a bite and you want whatever they’re eating that seems to be making them so happy. After her cigarette Marilyn usually makes her rounds to the tables in the restaurant to say hello and give you a moment to brag about the delicious food. Up close you get a moment for a better look at Marilyn herself. She has a face that appears to have been through a lot whether that be years of possible drug use, a three pack a day smoking habit, or even the possibility of a surgically enhanced change. You can’t help but create your own backstory to Marilyn’s life. Every time I go there I come up with another one. My favorite and I think most attainable is the one where she was a regular at studio 54 and did mountains of blow with Andy Warhol. Which would explain a lot about her now. She would be a VIP guest and never had to pay for her drinks or drugs, which is why there was no need to ever create a limit of any sort. No matter what elaborate tail you create in your head it never outshines Marilyn’s friendly demeanor and hospitality. Last time I was there she asked me about my tattoos and spoke of her daughter who now has five. As I watch her ruby red lips cracked and creased with age and nicotine speak of her daughter all I can think is that she was conceived on a couch in the VIP section on a slow Thursday night
Ten miles down the road from Marilyn’s you are back in Indiana in a city ironically named Michigan City. There you can find everything one could ask for from a horse ranch to a CVS and grocery store, to the outlet mall with the nuclear power plant serenely placed in the background.
“Come shop for name brands with discount prices, just don’t drink the water if you have a fear of possible fishes with three eyes.” About 15 miles west you’ll find tons of galleries, restaurants, and farmland. Six miles to the north is lake Michigan which you’ve never seen look so clean or beautiful and if you close your eyes and listen to the waves rolling into the shore you can trick yourself into thinking it’s the ocean.
July 10, 2010
The end and the beginning
Sitting in front of a blank white screen, eyes starting to ache from the blinding glow. A million thoughts and ideas running through my head yet not being able to put one into a clear and entertaining compilation of words. This is not the best way to attempt to start writing a book, so.... this will have to do for now. I'm hoping this will relieve some of the pressure and force me to create something I'm ok with people reading. The structure I'm in dire need of while simultaneously breaking the ice with you know.... people. What will surely be an amalgam of random thoughts, stories, and rants. So against my better judgment here's to the end of nothing and hopefully the beginning of something.
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