Monday, February 21, 2011
My Gypsy road can't take me home
I'm doing alright. I usually don't write in here when I'm ok. I think sometimes I adapt, or maybe become numb to this. Then other times I either step away from it and see how surreal it is, or I just get too far into my own head. I need to find a medium between the fuck it I'm drunk and the omg I'm in "The Yellow Wallpaper".
X has been pushing the baby card towards me lately. Which is sorta absurd considering our circumstances. I guess it's really a catch 22 because it's not like we can have a child and continue on this way and it's not like I'm willing to stay home. But we are a married couple and we do want kids. Not to mention we aren't getting any younger. X will be 27 this year. I know we still have about 10 years before we become older parents... and maybe with this lifestyle we will have to do that. The way I see it like this- after this tour they will take some time off, then record. That is plenty of time to have a baby. It's just what happens when they resume the road. I don't want to be a single mom while X goes back out there. I don't want to cooing " There's daddy" to our child in reference to a man in a music video. And X wants to be a dad, so it's not like he really wants that either. When he breaches this subject he implies that he could walk away from this. That his family is what is important to him. I know this is true. As I said before the tattoos and black hair dye can't hide that fact that he had an outstanding childhood and has good parents. Not the mention the fact that his dad refused to be famous due to this. He wanted to protect his family.
I guess if life was easy we would never have any fun...
X has been pushing the baby card towards me lately. Which is sorta absurd considering our circumstances. I guess it's really a catch 22 because it's not like we can have a child and continue on this way and it's not like I'm willing to stay home. But we are a married couple and we do want kids. Not to mention we aren't getting any younger. X will be 27 this year. I know we still have about 10 years before we become older parents... and maybe with this lifestyle we will have to do that. The way I see it like this- after this tour they will take some time off, then record. That is plenty of time to have a baby. It's just what happens when they resume the road. I don't want to be a single mom while X goes back out there. I don't want to cooing " There's daddy" to our child in reference to a man in a music video. And X wants to be a dad, so it's not like he really wants that either. When he breaches this subject he implies that he could walk away from this. That his family is what is important to him. I know this is true. As I said before the tattoos and black hair dye can't hide that fact that he had an outstanding childhood and has good parents. Not the mention the fact that his dad refused to be famous due to this. He wanted to protect his family.
I guess if life was easy we would never have any fun...
Sunday, January 30, 2011
I wept with my face in your nightshirt.
I think the beauty is in the details. The quiet moments. The small gestures. I find it harder and harder not to write my husband's name here. In my AA confessional a few post back I did write it, because in my head I don't call him X. I wrote and when I realized what I had done I sat there horrified, as if anyone out there that read this saw it too and knows.
I complain a lot about the tight quarters in which we live, but to be honest all my favorite moments are in close proximity to him. The glow of his eyes in the bunk light, the beer on his breath and the smoke mixed with hair spray in his hair. The counter of a 100 different dressing rooms sitting there like a child watching their parent dress for a date. The way he will hold my hand with his left hand an place his right hand on my inner wrist when we walk, as if he knows he has to use both hands to keep me here. And in that knowing he also knows that we are both fragile and scared. I'll forever let him cling to me.
Last night he took me in his arms backstage. Put one hand on the small of my back and danced with me. Slowly and longingly dancing to the sound of the load in. Cases clanked and workers stomped on the stage a few feet away, but in that moment we were love. I wanted to possess the simple gesture forever. I wanted to lock myself up in those arms, that hair those breaths. I wanted to take him far away from there. He pulled back and smiled at me. I tried to smile back. Adorable.
I complain a lot about the tight quarters in which we live, but to be honest all my favorite moments are in close proximity to him. The glow of his eyes in the bunk light, the beer on his breath and the smoke mixed with hair spray in his hair. The counter of a 100 different dressing rooms sitting there like a child watching their parent dress for a date. The way he will hold my hand with his left hand an place his right hand on my inner wrist when we walk, as if he knows he has to use both hands to keep me here. And in that knowing he also knows that we are both fragile and scared. I'll forever let him cling to me.
Last night he took me in his arms backstage. Put one hand on the small of my back and danced with me. Slowly and longingly dancing to the sound of the load in. Cases clanked and workers stomped on the stage a few feet away, but in that moment we were love. I wanted to possess the simple gesture forever. I wanted to lock myself up in those arms, that hair those breaths. I wanted to take him far away from there. He pulled back and smiled at me. I tried to smile back. Adorable.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
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