Wishing You a BETTER Year

One of my best friends married her beau today.  With the blessed union occurring on the final day of the year, the conversation, of course, turned to Resolutions for the New Year.  My friend's new husband shared that he doesn't really make resolutions.  Rather, he simply wishes that the next year will be an improvement upon the last.  This wish, he hopes, will continue to create both an upward trajectory and a positive tone (and framework) for the next 365 days.

I rather like this philosophy for the very simple reason that I always seem to have trouble keeping most of my resolutions.  Additionally, it puts the previous year in perspective, forcing me to think about what went well (and for what I am grateful)...and what I'd like to be improved.  

So in reflecting upon 2017, I revisit the resolutions listed in my blog entry from the start of the year ('16 Going on '17), if only to establish a base for that improvement. Not surprisingly, some things are now as they were at the beginning of the year (Yup, still single, still broke, still living in a messy apartment...albeit a new one.  Lol.), but some things have definitely been accomplished as hoped.  Let's see how the year has shaped up, shall we?

RESOLUTIONS FROM 2017:

WRITE MORE

OK, I didn't write very many blog entries, but I've been writing various pieces for shows that I have produced (or am producing) and done various "odd jobs".

WORRY LESS

Hmmm.  Let's take this off the list, shall we?  Oh, to dream the impossible dream.  Ha ha.  

FINISH SCHOOL

I'd wanted to finish by June.  It actually wasn't until November, but I managed to finally graduate--and delivered a speech at the graduation.  And because I can't do anything simply, I also produced, directed and acted in a show at the same time.  Yup, clocked my last hour...and then opened the show.  Go me.  

GET JOB IN CHOSEN FIELD

Employed as of December 12th!  Just need to keep my anxiety under control as I work hard to improve my craft in a much more strict and demanding environment.  

CREATE GREAT THEATER (Act, Produce, Direct)

Directed/Produced/Acted in two shows for my theater company; Acted in two others.  I thought they were great.  So did the audiences.  So, CHECK!

Actively working on a new show (or two.  Or more.) for 2018, by the way.  

SPEND MORE TIME WITH FRIENDS, LOVED ONES AND THE CAT

Well, the cat garnered most of my free time. That needy beast.  Sorry about that friends and loved ones. 

CLEAN THE APARTMENT

Um, it was clean when I moved out of the old one and before I moved into the new one.  But I can sit on the couch at least.  Ha ha.  

Yeah, yeah.  It's a work in progress.  Always.

SURROUND MYSELF WITH POSITIVITY AND LOVE

Still working on it.  Not doing too poorly.  Some days are more challenging than others, but I have good friends and a pretty cool daughter.  

OH YEAH, AND SOMEHOW OBTAIN JOHNNY DEPP AND A MILLION DOLLARS

This was my daughter's Christmas present to me.  Funny girl.  

MOVING FORWARD:

All in all, 2017 was not too horrible for me personally (so uplifting, I know).  Truthfully, yes, I am still in somewhat of a "Survival Mode" as I scramble to stay afloat financially or strive to not be brought down by the current political climate or state of humanity.  Yes, there were various tribulations and some sadness, but there were personal triumphs as well.  As we move forward into 2018, however, I hope (as my friend's husband did) to continue an upward trajectory and to ultimately improve upon this past year.  There has been some great groundwork laid...I hope I will see some successes from those labors.  Maybe I will travel more.  Get the big bucks.  Find true love.  Put away the laundry.  Or maybe I will just find myself wanting for less.  Hey, who knows?  It's a new year, after all.

Until next time, Lovelies.  Here's wishing your 2018 is even better than your 2017.   Happy New Year!

The Perils of Adulthood

(OR:  It's All Fun and Games Until Someone Gets Bashed in the Eye)

I used to be fearless.  Sometime in the last few years, however, I realized this wasn’t the case anymore.  Perhaps fear set in because of garnered experience or from knowing too much about the dangers of this world—or because I have my own child and therefore must think about my mortality as it would affect her.  Whatever the reason, I think this fearlessness is what I miss most about my childhood. 

In 2010, I went to France with my now ex-husband.  We were on a tour of a quaint little church/clock tower in Northern France.  Part of the tour included a walk around the outside of the steeple, allowing a 360-degree view of the city below.  Normally, this wouldn’t have bothered me, but as we made our way around the very narrow walkway, separated from certain death by only a chest high glass partition (I’m 5’2”), the wind whipping violently past, I discovered my very real fear of heights.  I shamefully admit that I freaked out.  Clutching the side of the building in terror, I scuttled sideways like a crab, my heart thudding and my breathing shallow, barely making it back inside to safety.  I couldn’t even fully enjoy the glorious view. 

I honestly don’t know where this fear of heights came from.  I’d been dealing with some bouts of vertigo (perhaps brought on by and preventing further skating of roller derby), but had never quite experienced the panic I’d had that afternoon. 

I have since challenged this fear of heights multiple times in the last few years:  exploring the rain-soaked Cliffs of Moher, kissing the Blarney Stone (which one must hang both backward and upside down to reach), zip-lining, a trapeze lesson…

Each time, I experienced heart-pounding terror, self-doubt and a tarnished self-image.  In most cases, however, I managed to escape without physical injury. 

Until an obstacle course at a trampoline park recently got the better of me. 

Let me set the scene:  I was at my daughter’s twelfth birthday party.  Already awkward because I do not particularly care to be in the same room as the ex-husband, I am also not overly fond of bounce houses or trampolines (due to an ill-fated special event in which I got trapped in one while dressed as a chipmunk…but that’s a story for another time).  In an effort to join in on the festivities, I decided I would attempt the obstacle course.  Because it was positioned along the ceiling, all the obstacles were to be completed over an open net (under which the other patrons and the employees could walk). 

I will spare you most of the details, but suffice it to say, I only made it a quarter of the way through.  After climbing between platforms almost too far apart for my stubby legs, balancing on a tightrope and moving across a staggered, moving balance beam, I was faced with four Wooden Swings of Doom.  Made up of large square posts (8” x 8” and about 5’ long I think?) fastened to the ceiling with large eye screws, the swings had wooden pegs as footholds.  The goal was to clutch onto the post (think monkey style) and swing to the next, using the footholds for balance.  Already panicked from the height, I could not figure out how to get past this part of the course.  I watched as countless kids (including my daughter) did it, but I just couldn’t get my body to do what it needed to do.  Finally, I pulled the post toward me and grabbed on.  As I was reaching for the second post, however, I fell into the net below—at which point the post swung back and bashed me in the face, right above my brow. 

I could feel the goose egg forming immediately.  Lying face down in the net, sobbing, I saw my daughter walking under me.  I called out to her, telling her that I had fallen and that I needed some ice.  She (in her typical 12-year-old way) argued with me about where to get the ice.  I told her, “I don’t care where you get it.  Just get me some ice.”

I then had to figure out how to get out of the obstacle course.  Because it was suspended from the ceiling, there was no way out except to complete the course or to go back.  There was no way in hell I was completing it.  With my eyebrow swollen and tears streaming down my face, I had to go back to the beginning, still terrified and now injured.  I made it to the start (joking with the people I passed, “Watch out for the swings.  They’re doozies!”), where my daughter was waiting with the ice.

I spent the rest of the birthday party sitting at the table with an ice pack on my head.  My eye didn’t start to blacken until later that night.  I hadn’t had a black eye since I was six years old (obtained from an equally clumsy incident with playground equipment), not even while playing roller derby.    

Sadly, my lack of physical prowess and ability to participate in birthday parties are not the only indications that I am no longer fearless.  As I sat bemoaning my idiocy, I started thinking about how fear has affected me.  Often plagued with indecision, it is much harder for me to jump into anything without worrying it to death. I sometimes find it difficult to plan, because my brain immediately goes to several contingency plans—even though they rarely work out.  I am frequently exhausted before I even begin anything.  Although I try to trust that everything will be as it is “should”, I also know that my failures, emotional and otherwise, are often more difficult to handle.  It takes me longer to heal.  I am not as resilient.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t keep trying.  I am nothing, if not stubborn.  Although I doubt I’ll be back on that obstacle course any time soon.  I’ve already told my daughter her next birthday party is going to be a tea party.  Unless I suddenly develop an aversion to cucumber sandwiches and teacups, that is.  Ha ha. 

Until next time, my Lovelies….

Things Never Better Left Unsaid

On Saturday, January 21, 2017 there was a local Women's March in the city in which I currently live.  A peaceable protest of over 10,000 local residents and visitors...and  I didn't go.  I could have.  I certainly feel I should have.  I absolutely wanted to be there.  I just didn't go.

While I adamantly wish I had gone (especially after seeing all of the pictures and hearing the positive stories), I had instead spent the day with my eleven-year-old daughter doing "ordinary" things.  I watched my daughter develop her physical strength by kicking ass in her martial arts class.  I listened as she then honed her voice at her singing lesson.  I worked on costumes for a show and thereby helped a female friend of mine create her art.  I crocheted pink kitty hats for others who wanted to attend the march but couldn't.  I led a rehearsal of Eve Ensler's The Vagina Monologues, as I do every January and February to raise awareness about Violence Against Women.

But I didn't go to the Women's March.

When I later expressed my frustration to my daughter about not attending (and my disappointment that she hadn't even wanted to go), my daughter responded in a very flip manner, "Well it's too late now."

To which I replied, "No, it most certainly isn't."

It was then that I realized that even without attending the public display of solidarity, I was already right there in the middle of it, acting and speaking as one of thousands, even millions.  It is never "too late" to take a stand, to have a voice, to speak up.

And I have been speaking up a lot lately.

I am speaking out against all of the ugliness I have seen from people I did not expect to see.  I am calling out rude behaviors or hateful statements, especially those that clearly come from "us and them" mentality.  I am reminding others that opinions are individual, but respect should be universal.  I am also prompting everyone to remember that any change in legislation has the potential to affect society as a whole--even if it doesn't affect or isn't supported personally--and to be sensitive to that.  I am questioning others about their thoughts, actions and statements, but I absolutely will not engage in a futile "I'm right, you're wrong" line of thinking. I am encouraging everyone to have his/her feelings, but I will not tolerate anyone attempting to dictate or invalidate the feelings of others (or mine), especially in a hateful, generalized manner.  I am speaking up, even if no one listens.  Even if no one agrees.  I am speaking up.  It may not always be loud.  It may not always be overtly public.  It will always be honest.  

This is how I will empower myself.  This is how I hope to empower others.  How we empower our society doesn't always have to be in huge, historical, highly visible ways.  Sometimes, we can empower ourselves (and others) through the ordinary little things, the "every day" occurrences and actions, through love and kindness and respect.  But, for all of our empowerment, we still have to SPEAK UP.

Only then can we hope to assuage our fears, alleviate the chaos and instill our faith in humanity once again.  Or maybe that's just my hope?

Until next time, my Lovelies....

Out With The Old, In With The New

At the end of 2016, I purchased a new car.  I really couldn't afford it, having gone back to school earlier in the year, but it was time.  It had gotten to the point that my previous vehicle (a 2001 VW Beetle) was starting to cost me, as Volkswagens are wont to do, too much to maintain.  Each trip to the auto repair was often several hundred dollars, sometimes more.  Although the visits to the shop were only every couple of months, my bank account or my credit cards were always overworked during those visits.  Ultimately, I was paying more in repairs than what the car was worth.  It seemed more viable to pay a bit each month on a new car instead, regardless of the potential financial strain.

So, a new car I obtained.  It was relatively non-descript and semi-inexpensive and not at all top of the line.  It didn't have some of the basic features of my Beetle (power locks, 6 CD changer, car alarm), but it was new and it was mine.  No one financially helped me to buy it (although a friend at the dealership did assist in garnering a discount).  I handled the paper work, registered it...all of it, my doing.  It was almost like a rite of passage.

Because my Beetle was so, shall we say "loved", however, the dealer wouldn't give me any trade-in money for it, so into the carport it went until I could find a buyer.  I removed the license plates when I transferred my registration to my new vehicle and there the Beetle stayed.  This, of course, did not sit well with the H.O.A. of my housing complex, who promptly stickered the car with a warning that it needed to be registered or removed.  Sure, they couldn't be bothered to fix the siding on the building or convince my neighbors not to let their dog poop in the communal grass without cleaning it up or tell my other neighbors that three large trucks are two too many to park in the communal carport, but my recently unregistered car was offensive to their housing management sensibilities.

I tried to sell the damned thing.  I tried to give it away.  One attempt after another kept falling through.  Finally, today it all worked out and my well-worn Beetle was adopted by its new owner.

As I watched my little green car being driven away by someone who was not me, I felt a twinge of melancholy.  Sure there was relief to just be done with the whole thing, but sadness as well.  I realized as the car left my driveway that it had been the last vestige of my marriage.  The last thing my ex and I had ever shared (except our daughter of course).  We'd bought that car together.  Hell, his name had been on the original title for it.

And yet, most of my good times in that car had had nothing to do with him.  He'd so rarely ridden in it, in fact.  Whenever we'd taken road trips, he generally drove us in his vehicle.  Instead my Kermit (as I'd affectionately called it) had been host to long solitary drives, raucous laughter and inane conversations with friends, adventures with my daughter, various trunks full of costumes--even a few, exhilarating post-divorce snogs.  Other than the initial purchase, he'd really had no actual stake in that car, yet there I was mourning its passing from my hands to another's.

It felt like the end of an era.

And so it was.  Gone was the car that would incite children everywhere to point and laughingly punch their friends ("SLUG BUG!").  Gone was the car that distinguished me from other local drivers.  Gone was the remaining shared tie to my ex-husband.

Then, just as quickly as it struck me, the melancholy left.  What remained was a sense of calm and relief...until, that is, I had to park my new car in the carport next to the neighbor's overly large truck.

But that's a story for another day.

Until next time, my Lovelies....

'16 Going on '17...

As the year draws to a close, per usual, I find myself reflecting upon the past year and the year to come.  Normally, I greet the changing of the calendar with excitement, maybe some trepidation.  Strangely, though, it just seems like any other day.  No great anxiety.  No extreme worry.  Just...."Yup, it's the end of the year."

That's not to say 2016 wasn't eventful or interesting.  In addition to the political three-ring circus we all endured, there was, of course, an inordinately large amount of well-loved celebrities who passed.  On the personal front, I started school and purchased a new vehicle.  There was even an ill-fated romantic endeavor.  And yet, I start the New Year as I have the last several years:  Still single.  Still broke.  My apartment is still a mess.  I am, as always it seems, living a Life in Transition.

But maybe this is where I am "supposed to be" right now?  While I don't believe in Destiny, I do believe that everything happens for a reason--even if those reasons are only recognizable in retrospect.   And I have learned some super, boss-keen things about myself this year.  Not all who wander are lost, right?

Right?!

No matter.  (Re)building a life is not easy, and that, my friends, is what I have been doing for a long time.  I realize that now.  

And so, gentle readers, as we head into 2017, I make resolutions that are in line with doing just that.  2016 brought with it certain realizations of thought.  May 2017 bring realizations of action.  

Happy New Year!

Until next time, Lovelies....

***

P.S.  I also believe that by putting positive thought into the Universe, we reap positivity.  Plus, by expressing our wants, needs and desires, we become accountable.  So, if you're interested, here are my Resolutions for 2017:

Write more

Worry less

Finish school (preferably before June)

Get a job in chosen field

Create Great Theater  (Act, Produce, Direct)

Spend more time with friends, loved ones and the cat

Clean the apartment 

Surround myself with positivity and love

Oh yeah, and somehow obtain Johnny Depp and a million dollars.