Sunday, May 8, 2016
Friday, May 6, 2016
Eric Logan 1977-2016
He has this "brother" from Wakefield who sent me a text this morning via FB. He asked me to call him or text him. That it was about Eric. I didn't want to give my cell number to Dana, so I just messaged back via FB. "What's up?"
"He's dead"
I told him how sorry I was for his loss, etc. And he said "I know he always loved you the most so I jus felt obligated to let you know ;( sorry to b the bearer" I don't know how to feel about that.
"He's dead"
I told him how sorry I was for his loss, etc. And he said "I know he always loved you the most so I jus felt obligated to let you know ;( sorry to b the bearer" I don't know how to feel about that.
Eric wrote a private blog which he gave me access to. I forgot it existed many years ago, and about a year ago I came across the bookmark for it, and was shocked to find he'd continued writing all along. My name came up. Always positively. But his life was shit. He made it shit. He was doing a lot of drugs, wandering around the country. The blog doesn't exist anymore.
Who knows what happened to him, but in the end it doesn't matter. Dead is dead. Is it awful to say that I'm just glad to be emotionally separated from it at this point?
I am still at a loss for how I got involved with Eric. I had just moved back from FL to MA when he messaged me on FB around 2010. That's how we reconnected. Me and this kid I knew in junior high school. I remember him telling me after we dated that even in junior high he had a crush on me. "I didn't know what to do with girls" he had said, "So I just asked you if you wanted to ride bikes". After I started dating him, I wondered about that time in junior high school. What if he spent more time in my home? My healthy, functional, non-abusive home. Would he have turned out differently? It didn't matter, because that didn't happen, and he was very broken.
What followed was a little over a year of near-torture. I still cannot explain fully why I stayed with him, on and off, for that time. He could always talk me into coming back to him until somehow, hitting a year of dealing with his shit was what I needed to walk away for good. To see no change would happen. He was a damaged person. Very damaged. And he damaged me enough.
While he never laid a hand on me, I sometimes I wished he would because I thought that would be what would keep me away. But, he never did (and I didn't really want that). In fact, he didn't really even raise his voice to me that I recall. He was, however, manipulative like no one I've ever known. And emotionally abusive. Specifically when we were on breaks. He was constantly creating drama because that's what was normal for him. I didn't love this drama, but somehow, at that time, I coudln't disengage from it effectively either. His skills of manipulation were beyond my coping abilities.
He managed to ruin my birthday by sending some kind of nasty email to me on April 2nd of that year of on and off dating. He somehow ruined every holiday. He failed to show up for countless plans. He wrote abusive things in his blog knowing I'd read it. He often disappeared to binge drink for days at a time. When we split up, he wrote nasty things about me on FB. His jealousy was exhausting. I lived in a constant state of anxiety, walking on eggshells at all times.
I still have the scars. I am now finally, after about nine months, at a point where I don't feel panic if Mike is a few minutes late to meet me somewhere.
He is not Eric. Eric damaged me. Mike heals me.
For the year after it ended, Eric still tried to get to me in his little ways. He would change his phone number and call me using the new one. 'Leave voicemails about how he would "always find me" and that no one would love me like he did. I knew full-well he had no intention of "finding me". He wasn't actually confrontational, oddly. He ran away from things.
The last voicemail I got from him was a few years ago. He was nervous. I don't remember much about what he said, except "The sun is shining and it made me think of you, so I thought I'd call and say hello". He sounded on the verge of tears, he worried so much that I hated him. He didn't get it. I didn't hate him, he was just poison to me. I did not call him back. I knew, even years out, that he had a way - you crack that door a bit, and he'll kick it wide open.
He was smart, he was funny. We had our moments although, I'm sad to admit, I remember very few right now. He was so damaged. It's such a waste. After him, I stopped answering my phone unless I knew who was calling, just in case it was him. It's become habit. And I've only just realized as I type this that I don't need to do that anymore. Screen my calls. It will never be Eric again.
Who knows what happened to him, but in the end it doesn't matter. Dead is dead. Is it awful to say that I'm just glad to be emotionally separated from it at this point?
I am still at a loss for how I got involved with Eric. I had just moved back from FL to MA when he messaged me on FB around 2010. That's how we reconnected. Me and this kid I knew in junior high school. I remember him telling me after we dated that even in junior high he had a crush on me. "I didn't know what to do with girls" he had said, "So I just asked you if you wanted to ride bikes". After I started dating him, I wondered about that time in junior high school. What if he spent more time in my home? My healthy, functional, non-abusive home. Would he have turned out differently? It didn't matter, because that didn't happen, and he was very broken.
What followed was a little over a year of near-torture. I still cannot explain fully why I stayed with him, on and off, for that time. He could always talk me into coming back to him until somehow, hitting a year of dealing with his shit was what I needed to walk away for good. To see no change would happen. He was a damaged person. Very damaged. And he damaged me enough.
While he never laid a hand on me, I sometimes I wished he would because I thought that would be what would keep me away. But, he never did (and I didn't really want that). In fact, he didn't really even raise his voice to me that I recall. He was, however, manipulative like no one I've ever known. And emotionally abusive. Specifically when we were on breaks. He was constantly creating drama because that's what was normal for him. I didn't love this drama, but somehow, at that time, I coudln't disengage from it effectively either. His skills of manipulation were beyond my coping abilities.
He managed to ruin my birthday by sending some kind of nasty email to me on April 2nd of that year of on and off dating. He somehow ruined every holiday. He failed to show up for countless plans. He wrote abusive things in his blog knowing I'd read it. He often disappeared to binge drink for days at a time. When we split up, he wrote nasty things about me on FB. His jealousy was exhausting. I lived in a constant state of anxiety, walking on eggshells at all times.
I still have the scars. I am now finally, after about nine months, at a point where I don't feel panic if Mike is a few minutes late to meet me somewhere.
He is not Eric. Eric damaged me. Mike heals me.
For the year after it ended, Eric still tried to get to me in his little ways. He would change his phone number and call me using the new one. 'Leave voicemails about how he would "always find me" and that no one would love me like he did. I knew full-well he had no intention of "finding me". He wasn't actually confrontational, oddly. He ran away from things.
The last voicemail I got from him was a few years ago. He was nervous. I don't remember much about what he said, except "The sun is shining and it made me think of you, so I thought I'd call and say hello". He sounded on the verge of tears, he worried so much that I hated him. He didn't get it. I didn't hate him, he was just poison to me. I did not call him back. I knew, even years out, that he had a way - you crack that door a bit, and he'll kick it wide open.
He was smart, he was funny. We had our moments although, I'm sad to admit, I remember very few right now. He was so damaged. It's such a waste. After him, I stopped answering my phone unless I knew who was calling, just in case it was him. It's become habit. And I've only just realized as I type this that I don't need to do that anymore. Screen my calls. It will never be Eric again.
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| heading to the eighth grade dance |
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| Cartagena, 2010 |
Wednesday, April 27, 2016
The First Spring Hike
I took Harlow for a walk today at Sheepfold and she was such a good girl I couldn't believe it. I stopped her a few times and had her sit and stay while I took a picture. She didn't move! And the one time she did move was to return back to me. Interesting considering how much she LOVES to run around int he woods during our walks. I don't let her do that much anymore because she's not acclimated to the mountain bikers and scares the holy hell out of them by going ape shit at them if they roll by.
Once we got to the dog park she was so excited that really all she could do was flail for a little while. She really is a cute, lanky, doofy girl.
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| Started with some appreciation of light at home |
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| Pausing for a nice picture |
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| With her friends (the Corgi was confusing to her, what with all it's lack of legs and such. |
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| Heading back to the car |
Monday, April 25, 2016
Mojito Mishap
At the conclusion of our delightful party, I was really excited that there was Mojito (and ten pounds of mint) leftover. I put the remainder in an empty milk jug, labeled it with a permanent marker and put it in the fridge door.
Monday night, my girlfriends came over and we had some of the mojito, enjoyed the firepit and gorged on s'mores. By Tuesday morning, what I thought was allergies and now know if a cold was full blown and I was in a bit of a fog. So, as I made my morning coffee to head into the office, I reached for the milk and dumped about two to three tablespoons of Mojito into my travel mug.
I didn't have time to make more coffee, so I just went with it. I only got about halfway through when I decided it was too vomitous to finish.
I don't know what annoyed me more - that I'd tainted my coffee or that I'd wasted Mojito.
Monday night, my girlfriends came over and we had some of the mojito, enjoyed the firepit and gorged on s'mores. By Tuesday morning, what I thought was allergies and now know if a cold was full blown and I was in a bit of a fog. So, as I made my morning coffee to head into the office, I reached for the milk and dumped about two to three tablespoons of Mojito into my travel mug.
I didn't have time to make more coffee, so I just went with it. I only got about halfway through when I decided it was too vomitous to finish.
I don't know what annoyed me more - that I'd tainted my coffee or that I'd wasted Mojito.
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| Harlow loves supervising S'mores production |
Sunday, April 24, 2016
40th Birthday
I feel like this should be an epic entry, but today I am nursing a nasty cold and am out of all things epic. Still, it's a nice story.
Months ago I thought about how I'd like to celebrate my birthday. I thought it would be nice to celebrate with Meg, who turns 40 on the 27th. So, I presented the idea to her with a theme - Roaring Twenties! She accepted the challenge and added that we should incorporate gambling in some way.
For about six weeks I obsessed about the party. I bought five affordable (real cheap on Amazon) dresses, and none were quite right. Fortunately, I was able to sell one each to Amanda and Christina, saving them from the trouble. Two more were returned (now what to do with that leftover one). Finally, I decided to go for it and splurged on a dress off Etsy. You only turn 40 once, right?
I researched how to do my hair right, and my make-up, I searched for just the right shoes. I searched for decoration ideas as well as the cheapest places to find items to help with those decorating. I looked up phrases used in the era, quotes from The Great Gatsby, and searched for and downloaded art deco fonts with which to make signs to put up all over the house.
Mom was a huge resource, as always, loaning me anything silver or glitzy that I could fit in my car.
Meg and I would talk regularly about our plans. What drinks did we want to serve? We landed on "signature cocktails" The Taurus (Kir Royale) was her choice and The Aries (Mojito) was mine. Her husband Aaron took over the bar tending.
I rented a table for a song to be the poker table, and we re-arranged the house completely to accommodate it. I set-up a photo booth upstairs and made a trade with an acquaintance - a night of heating and distributing the food in exchange for a family photo session. I also decided I'd take the night off from shooting and hired my student photographer to cover the evening. That was money well spent. For a student, in tight quarters with a really tough environment to shoot in, Allie did a fine job. And I enjoyed not worrying about taking any pictures at all.
Meg showed up Friday afternoon just as I was arriving home from three days away for a BU trip to photograph and alum in New Orleans. We went straight to BJs to search for all our necessities, and as we wrapped up there we looked at each other and agreed, we were both exhausted! No time for that though, still too much to do.
On Saturday we decorated and garden lights, and went for more provisions. Mike assembled the fire pit I got for Christmas, made wine and ice runs, among other things. Aaron joined us in the late afternoon and began to set everything up.
In the end, the place looked great and I think all 35 or so of our guests had a great time. The food was great, the drinks were delicious, the 20s era music was fun, the poker table was full, the fire outside roaring and s'mores being made too.
After everyone left around midnight, Meg mentioned something about Turn Down For What and Aaron proceeded to find the song and crank it. Meg and I danced around, running on fumes, in our fancy dresses.
Meg's family has a tradition of picking a Rose, Thorn and Bud tradition. Meg's Rose was pulling off our party without a hitch. Her thorn was that she was hungover for 3 days following the party, and her Bud was doing it again in ten years.
Sounds good to me.
Happy 40th to me and Meg! from C.M. Scott on Vimeo.
Months ago I thought about how I'd like to celebrate my birthday. I thought it would be nice to celebrate with Meg, who turns 40 on the 27th. So, I presented the idea to her with a theme - Roaring Twenties! She accepted the challenge and added that we should incorporate gambling in some way.
For about six weeks I obsessed about the party. I bought five affordable (real cheap on Amazon) dresses, and none were quite right. Fortunately, I was able to sell one each to Amanda and Christina, saving them from the trouble. Two more were returned (now what to do with that leftover one). Finally, I decided to go for it and splurged on a dress off Etsy. You only turn 40 once, right?
I researched how to do my hair right, and my make-up, I searched for just the right shoes. I searched for decoration ideas as well as the cheapest places to find items to help with those decorating. I looked up phrases used in the era, quotes from The Great Gatsby, and searched for and downloaded art deco fonts with which to make signs to put up all over the house.
Mom was a huge resource, as always, loaning me anything silver or glitzy that I could fit in my car.
Meg and I would talk regularly about our plans. What drinks did we want to serve? We landed on "signature cocktails" The Taurus (Kir Royale) was her choice and The Aries (Mojito) was mine. Her husband Aaron took over the bar tending.
I rented a table for a song to be the poker table, and we re-arranged the house completely to accommodate it. I set-up a photo booth upstairs and made a trade with an acquaintance - a night of heating and distributing the food in exchange for a family photo session. I also decided I'd take the night off from shooting and hired my student photographer to cover the evening. That was money well spent. For a student, in tight quarters with a really tough environment to shoot in, Allie did a fine job. And I enjoyed not worrying about taking any pictures at all.
Meg showed up Friday afternoon just as I was arriving home from three days away for a BU trip to photograph and alum in New Orleans. We went straight to BJs to search for all our necessities, and as we wrapped up there we looked at each other and agreed, we were both exhausted! No time for that though, still too much to do.
On Saturday we decorated and garden lights, and went for more provisions. Mike assembled the fire pit I got for Christmas, made wine and ice runs, among other things. Aaron joined us in the late afternoon and began to set everything up.
In the end, the place looked great and I think all 35 or so of our guests had a great time. The food was great, the drinks were delicious, the 20s era music was fun, the poker table was full, the fire outside roaring and s'mores being made too.
After everyone left around midnight, Meg mentioned something about Turn Down For What and Aaron proceeded to find the song and crank it. Meg and I danced around, running on fumes, in our fancy dresses.
Meg's family has a tradition of picking a Rose, Thorn and Bud tradition. Meg's Rose was pulling off our party without a hitch. Her thorn was that she was hungover for 3 days following the party, and her Bud was doing it again in ten years.
Sounds good to me.
Happy 40th to me and Meg! from C.M. Scott on Vimeo.
Sunday, April 3, 2016
Turning 40
A lovely day to enter a new decade. Chocolate chip muffin for breakfast, a trip to the movies with Mike (it was too rainy for a hike I'd hoped for). Batman Vs. Superman was terrible, but it was still nice to go to the movies. In the afternoon I got a delightful birthday massage and in the evening, Mike and I went to Avon Street where we had a super meal of Beef Bourguignon courtesy of Mom followed by a super fudgy chocolate cake.
I shot this video while we were playing games. We're playing a round of Writey Drawie, and Mom and Mike just can't deal. My favorite part is towards the end, when Mom says "You keep givin me this shit! Nobody can do anything with this, Mike!"
I shot this video while we were playing games. We're playing a round of Writey Drawie, and Mom and Mike just can't deal. My favorite part is towards the end, when Mom says "You keep givin me this shit! Nobody can do anything with this, Mike!"
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| Mike took me to dinner on Friday night for my birthday. Tapas at Tico! |
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| CJ and Jodi got the cake and these very cool, although stubborn, sparkling cake toppers! |
He's funny
Mike said something from a room away.
Me, "I can't hear you, what did you say?"
Mike, without skipping a beat, "BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH !!!!"
Maybe you had to be there. It was a timing thing. And it was funny.
Friday, April 1, 2016
Maureen
Lots of nice comments about Maureen's interview today. It's my blog so I'm bragging...
I messaged a bit with Mo today and she told me she liked it in spite of her crying. "I felt like I was listening to someone else that I just had a lot in common with"
We talked a bit about how hers and her sister Jen's compared to each other, and how I clearly surround myself with a "type" of person. I thought that was an interesting observation.
I messaged a bit with Mo today and she told me she liked it in spite of her crying. "I felt like I was listening to someone else that I just had a lot in common with"
We talked a bit about how hers and her sister Jen's compared to each other, and how I clearly surround myself with a "type" of person. I thought that was an interesting observation.
It's been a very satisfying way to approach my 40th!
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