Rock Haus

Ack

Talking to my parents yesterday, dad asked me if there was any way I could come home for a couple of weeks in April so he can go over to the UK. I have felt faintly nauseous since. I didn't say either way if I would do it or not. I really wouldnt mind SO much if it wasn't such a friggin ordeal to have the Wee Tiny Princess cared for. In addition to imposing on my friends for an inordinate amount of time for cat watching, I also come home to a completely spazzy cat who takes weeks to return to normal. I can't take her with me, since it seems that subjecting her to an airline ride, followed by an extended period in a household with two other cats who would NOT exactly send out the welcoming committee, would probably be more traumatic to her than a couple of weeks of near strangers coming to feed her.

I fucking hate this. If you'll just indulge me for a second I'm gonna have me a good old fashioned petulant rant for just a minute. I love my parents and I don't mind helping out and I know if I don't go my dad wont go to England and I know he's stressed out by my mum who is becoming increasingly difficult to deal with despite best efforts, she's just frustrating and if my brief experiences have driven me to the edge I can only imagine how he feels and I'm sure he needs a break...I just absolutely hate ditching my life for 2 weeks. It's not a fucking vacations for christs sakes, it's 2 weeks of fighting back tears and frustration and trying not to come completely unhinged at my mother. Am I being selfish? You betcha. Will I go anyway? Yeah, probably, although I'm gonna try and talk him down to 10 days. If all this had started happening 5 or 6 years ago, I probably would have just moved back to Massachusetts like a good daughter...Now tho, not so easy. I feel rooted here. I live in an apartment I adore, I live in the coolest neighborhood in chicago, I have a favourite grocery store, I am a ten minute bike ride from a big shiny new Target Store, I have a large enough social network that I run into people I know on the street and on the train on a daily basis, and a close enough inner circle of friends to know I'm loved and people have my back, I have mastered the transit system (not that it was ever complicated but now I need only briefly glance up to know exactly where I am on the  brown line route), I'm starting to actually make professional connections that might actually lead me somewhere down the road....at 37 I am completely unprepared and unwilling to rebuild this from the ground up....but when it comes right down to it, family comes first and if Mum continues down this path I'm gonna have to go back, because I know Dad can't do it all on his own...

fuck fuck fuck.

Perhaps I'm just being overwrought, I've been broke all week which always puts me in a hell of a mood. Thanks to Billy splitting his bar shifts with me I should make it through, but man it sucks. Additionally, I've done fuck all creatively for what feels like ages, show goes soon, I'm still being neurotic and overthinking and hanging entirely too much importance on a fucking photo show in a coffee shop...still tho, that doesn't stop me from getting a belly full of sheer icy terror every time I imagine my work hanging there for all to criticize...with MY name on it....this isn't my admin works, I can't just phone it in and not give a shit if it's right or not.

Basically I've been a bit out of my head for a week....god bless the HIC for A: putting up with my bitchy insanity, and B: knowing exactly what would help....no, no, nothing like that.

So it's not all piss and moan, I'd like to mention that I *am* pretty geeked about the fact that Miss Jen has also signed on and so in 2 weeks I'm gonna be hosting Mrs Sherri AND Miss Jen, which was super fun last year, and I'm sure will be again.

I'm gonna shut up now.

date night

So I suppose a double feature of Bourne Ultimatum and American Gangster doesn't exactly make the heads of young lovers swim with romance, but still...I'd sorta hoped we'd get more people and that our biggest group wouldn't be a bunch of kidlets, who are of NO USE TO ME WHATSOEVER, that I dutifully direct to the concession counter in the lobby because fizzy drinks are a better deal out there...I should look at it from the perspective that it's money I wasn't expecting at all but then Char Mar Superstar asked me to cover her shift...at least in the seemingly endless  stretches between customers I can do things like my taxes, and send little nuggets of bloggy love out into the ether...hopefully Monday when I cover Billy it will be better, we'll have comedies, some people have the day off...fingers crossed.

I'm being whiny. I've made a weeks grocery money, if I spend wisely, and stay out of the bar...however...the HIC's recent availability and the consequent resurgence of warm and cuddly sentiment are extremely inhibitive to my keeping on the straight and narrow...

Above image not my bar (ha - I bartend a half dozen times and it's now "my bar") shot at Exit several years ago...

Significantly warmer today, by that I mean temperatures with more than one digit and I was able to wear my faux sheepskin lined jacket rather than michellin man parka...

Watch me go with my attempts at sunny optimism! At this rate by spring I'll be one of those annoying always happy cheerleader types!

oh, and as a matter of interest to just about nobody...

This here blog just turned 6.

woo.

Fucking goddamn BRRRR!

This weather has me in a horrible snit. If it's not arctic frigid, it's snowing, everything is covered in a liberal coating of slippery icy death, or wet toe freezing slush...I'm just tired of it, I long to ride my bike in a t-shirt and jeans and be warm...I've totally had it and I am ready for spring.

Enough of that bitching..

Lets see.... Part time dayjob is fine. I can operate on auto pilot and make a few  bucks while my mind goes wherever it wants. It may or may not grow to be full time (working in a different capacity in an as yet unformed department) OR it will be part time until something better presents itself, there were rumblings of health insurance being offered by years end, which is compelling). At least one bartending shift at B&V seems imminent, and I just had an interesting conversation with the publisher of The Real Chicago who just quit his dayjob and bought the rights to a travel mag and is interested in some pictures...we'll see if that comes to fruition, he said he'd be in touch...I should be finally (FINALLY, a year later) hanging my show at the Fixx next week...so even though it might appear I do absolutely fuck all most of the time, I'm actually making middling progress...

Nothing else of any real consequence to report, I'm in a shite mood and about as pleasant to be around as a pleuratic leper. I hope my outlook will improve with the weather, if that indeed ever happens and we're not just in the opening stages of the new ice age...I am glad however that I could bring some sunshine to Molly's day, and I am eagerly looking forward to a visit from Mrs. Sherri in March...so it doesn't ALL suck...

Oh, and note to Miss Jen, my weather bitching in no way is to be used as an excuse not to come out when Mrs. Sherri is here, you're not exactly living in Cabo.

Also, the above pic is a few years old but I think it makes my point..

Finally, happy fuck you if you're single day!

As warm and fuzzy an ending as we could hope for...

What became of Vick's victims

I'd still like to see him electrocuted for fumbling the ball if he ever plays football again, but I suppose that's not a particularly Christian way of thinking...

oh wait, I'm not a Christian.

Meet Olga

My dad found her in some dark dirty corner of the basement where no doubt she's been for 20 years. She initially belonged to my friend Marianne, at some point in our goth punk heyday we cut her hair put eyeliner on her and hookered her all up. I knew she was in the basement somewhere and had searched for her in the past with a mind to taking creepy cliche pictures of her, but to no avail...

Recently my parents sent me a box of stuff, and when describing the contents to me on the phone Dad says "and I found this disgusting dirty scabby looking doll, so I threw that in there too...."

He was a little shocked at my delight.

This is a camera phone shot, will me shooting more soon...I'm calling her my muse.

yeah yeah i know....

Nothing interesting to say so haven't said anything...

To update:

Mr. Bridget was kind enough to spend saturday evening with me re-designing my website (lisrockphoto.com) because it sucks and Mr. Bridget gets paid to design websites...hopefully it will be up soon..

I've taken on a part time dayjob while I look for real work. It's not great but I know the folks i'm working with and there are cute little dogs scampering around in the office, one of which has 3 legs and is so heartbreakingly cute you almost get sick looking at it with its twitchy little nose and big heartbreakingly earnest eyes and waggy stubby tail.

I might be getting a permanent bartending shift, maybe 2...now if we could just get some good movies in that hundreds of people want to see on a monday night.

In other bartending related issues, just a note - if you first question a MEASURED pour (big brother watches us and a real pour gets you fired) then play the "well I'm a bartender too" card, and then don't fucking tip me, don't expect me to be all sweetness and fucking light the next time you come up for a drink.

Sometimes it is nearly impossible to bite your tongue and not tell people that if they would just listen to you and do what you say everything would be much much better for all parties concerned.