All You Need is....

There is a superstition I have on road trips of making a wish when I cross over a state line.  For added measure, I will also kiss my hand and tap the ceiling of the car.  I am not entirely sure where this superstition came from, maybe from watching a friend or family member do something similar, but it is something that my daughter now does too.  I cannot speak to her wish, but mine is always the same: “Health, Wealth, Happiness, Love.” 

Lest you worry that these things won’t come true if I share this wish with you, don’t.  After all, they haven’t yet.  But as we are in a period of reflection at the start of a new year, maybe this is the perfect time to re-evaluate this wish. 

HEALTH

Although I have managed thus far to stave off any major illnesses or injuries, there is a certain level of physical and mental disintegration that I have endured within this last year (and by year, I really mean decade).  Anxiety, depression, physical and mental exhaustion…these are my normal states of being now—so much so that I find it difficult to even sit and write. I need to recharge my battery, fill my cup, whatever it is that will help.  And I have no idea what will help.  It’s certainly not the hormonal imbalances that have started to affect this “woman of a certain age”. 

WEALTH

We've heard it said that “money is the root of all evil”…but not having it doesn’t bode well either.  I will tell you something that not many people know:  I have never been so effing broke in my entire life.  Perhaps it just seems that way because I am working multiple (low-paying) jobs, the creditors (and bankruptcy) are hounding me, rent has doubled in the last three years and I am a single mom to a teenaged daughter.  Due to unfortunate circumstances, what was supposed to be a second job, has become the first job.  Ain’t no one can live on minimum wage, my friend.  Yes, I traveled to England this past August, but was only able to do so because my ex gave me airline miles to go pick my daughter up from camp (which he also paid for) and an angel of a friend let us stay with her.  In reality, I only had $700 at the time, garnered from the meager tips I’d collected for months of working as a barista at Starbucks…and I was stressed out the entire trip that I wouldn’t have enough to make it back home.

HAPPINESS

Not gonna lie…working as a barista is the worst job I’ve ever had.  Oh, I suppose the job itself is fine, but I have never seen such awful, entitled people in my entire life (and I’ve worked A LOT of customer service jobs).  It’s like dealing with a bunch of toddlers who have been deprived of snacks and naps. 

But there is one advantage to working at Starbucks:  tuition reimbursement.  Even with all of the school I’ve attended, I’d never completed my bachelor’s degree (just an associate degree).  Strangely, I really love going to school and this job will help pay for it.  If I can just keep it together for a little while longer, I will have a nice shiny degree to show for it.  Not sure why I need this degree so much, other than knowing I can allegedly get a higher paying job because of it.  If nothing else, hey, I love going to school.  Lol. 

LOVE

Um…I got nothing.  OK, not nothing.  I theoretically have my daughter, friends, and family.  But I also have an overwhelming sense of loneliness—which probably explains all of those online streaming services (like Netflix, not porn, people), my two cats (crazy cat lady here I come!) and the cocoon-like piles of laundry on my bed (who needs a boyfriend pillow or a weighted blanket?  Not me!).  Most of my close friends are married or in committed relationships so I rarely see them.  Instead, I’ve resorted to crawling into my hobbit hole rather than seeking out companionship (romantic or otherwise) because it’s, well, easier.  The older I get, the more I understand that I am no longer an extrovert.  I don’t prefer to be around people—especially after slinging coffee for the assholes of the world.  It also becomes harder and harder for me to reach out to others for fear that I am bothering them.  I am exhausted by trying to live my best life and not feeling that I have the resources to do so.

Le big sigh. 

So, where does that leave me for 2020?  Finding a new wish?  Not taking any more road trips.  No, of course not.  But perhaps the way to achieving what I want isn’t just in wishing for these four things for myself, but for others as well.  I resolve, therefore, to endeavor to spread the positivity this year. 

May you find Health, Wealth, Happiness and Love, fellow humans.  Don’t forget to spread it around.

Until next time, my Lovelies….

Loads of Fun

So I live in an apartment complex that isn’t in the worst part of town.  It’s not even the next to worst.  It’s not ghetto adjacent even.  For some reason, however, while the rent goes up, so does the crime.  Or maybe I am just noticing it more. 

I was trying to do my laundry the other day.  Although it was 10am on a Tuesday and there are five machines (well, currently four since one was broken),  I had to make three attempts to get an empty machine.  I often have as many as 4-8 loads come Laundry Day (who knew my daughter and I could generate so much laundry???) and not a lot of full days off, so, like all residents with a mission to finish their laundry quickly, I usually prefer to use as many of the machines as possible.  Keep in mind it’s also $2/wash and $1.75/dry, so Laundry Day is pursuant to when I have the money to actually do the laundry as well. 

My neighbor (a brassy, but seemingly cool woman in her mid-40s or so) was in the laundry room on my first attempt to get a load in the wash.  She had just finished filling the four working washers, so I returned to my apartment to wait the 30 minutes until she was through.  At 30 minutes I tried again.  The washers had just been re-started.  Damn!  Someone had snuck in while I was watching an episode of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.  Back to the couch. 

Another 30 minutes went by.  I tried again.  This time there were three washers free.  Success!  I loaded them up and returned to hang out with Mrs. Maisel. 

When my wash was ready to transfer to the dryer, I returned to the laundry room.  Another older woman was in there, transferring her clothes to the dryers.  She was talking to a younger man about the hike in rent (mine has been raised $150 in two years).  He was pulling clothes out of one of the dryers.  Upon indicating that I could use the one he’d freed,  I started to load my soggy garments into it.  The man offhandedly mentioned something about how he was supposed to have clothes in two separate dryers, but returned to his upstairs apartment.

Which is when all hell broke loose.  As I was loading my clothes, the brassy neighbor came screaming down the stairs.  Well, not screaming because she had laryngitis, but whispering furiously. 

“WHAT THE FUCK?”  She looked in two of the dryers (one of which I was currently filling).  My neighbor slammed the other dryer door shut.  “Someone took my fucking laundry!!!”  She opened it again in disbelief.  Still no laundry.  “Seriously, where are my fucking clothes?”

So let me explain something here.  In spite of liking to use all the machines at once, I am a super courteous resident when it comes to laundry room usage.  If someone comes to the laundry room at the same time, I will relinquish use of one (some) of the machines.  I set a timer so that I can be sure to clear my machines in a timely manner.  I clean out my lint screens.  I hold the laundry room door open for other residents.  And I absolutely cannot, for the life of me, understand why someone would be motivated to steal another person’s laundry. 

Yes, I have heard stories of a woman who will throw people’s laundry in the trash if they leave it in the washer for too long.  I’ve even walked into the laundry room when it smelled like shit (literally) because someone disposed of their dog’s feces in the same trashcan.  I have even found vomit-covered clothing strewn about outside of the laundry room (not sure what happened there).  Apparently, though, this laundry theft is a semi-common occurrence.  The older woman confirmed it with her own story of having recently found a note in the laundry room that was written by another resident pleading for the return of her newly cleaned clothes. 

This, my friends, is fucking bullshit.  I mean, seriously?  This is where we’re headed?  Is it really necessary to go out of one’s way to enter the laundry room (with a key no less) and steal from one’s neighbors?  To clarify, no one here is wealthy.  We ain’t washing couture in the laundry room.  My own laundry is only a veritable cornucopia of Walmart T-Shirts and Thrift Store Cardigans.  Some of my underwear is so filled with holes, I don’t know that I should even wear them as period panties.    What on earth would someone want with another person’s laundry?  I get freaked out just finding someone else’s sock mixed in with mine.  I don’t care if it’s been washed.  It’s not my fucking sock. 

So I went to the office to complain.  I told them I would happily write up a formal complaint.  Of course they did nothing.  They can’t (won’t) do anything, “management” said.  We’re supposed to stay with our laundry, I was told. So I responded (jokingly?), “Then don’t be surprised if you hear of a lavender-haired women in Laundry Room #5 beating up one of the other residents.” 

And so I went to sit in the fucking laundry room to babysit my clothes, writing this blog entry and throwing shade at anyone walking past.  It wasn’t even my laundry that was stolen, but now it’s my mission to make sure that it won’t be.  No one is to be trusted. 

What a waste of time.  Sigh. 

Until next time, my lovelies….

On the Seventh Day of Christmas....

ON THE SEVENTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS, MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME...TRIUMPHS  (OR REFLECTIONS OF THE PAST YEAR)!

Every New Year’s Eve I, as many of us are wont to do, reflect upon the past year.  This generally involves revisiting my previous list of resolutions and creating a new one.  As with the end of 2017, however, I feel like my resolutions are ONCE AGAIN virtually the same ones I have every year.  I don’t know if that denotes that I haven’t done all of the work or that I need to change my resolutions...or, maybe, that I just keep doing the same thing in hopes of a different outcome?  I mean, I still find myself broke, single and living in a messy apartment.   What else is new?

So let’s take a look back at some of the triumphs of 2018, shall we?  After all, amidst the clutter and chaos there is still buried treasure. 

THEATER

Ever my bliss, theater has proven to be pretty rewarding this year.  My production partner and I created a beautiful and poignant show comprised of original and published works entitled The Human Perspective as a fundraiser for a local charity.  We have also begun pre-production on two other shows (both musicals!) and production on a series of musical revues for a local theater (opening next year).  Additionally, I have also been cast in not one, but three shows which I am not producing (yes, that is a good thing...a luxury, even)—two of which open next year!

WORK

In July of 2018, I switched to a different salon.  Although there were many benefits to working at the first one, I knew it wasn’t the place for me—a fact which was exhibited by poor health, increased anxiety and decreased performance.  I am grateful for what I learned there, but also for the opportunity to have found a new place where I feel more at ease.  I am still working on building my clientele and continuing education (OMG I took the most AWESOME color class in Los Angeles!), but I am hopeful that I can take more ownership of my career in 2019. 

HOME

My thirteen-year-old continues to be…well, really good at being thirteen.  Lol.  She is intelligent, stubborn, witty, poised, determined, stubborn, delightful, feisty, kooky…did I mention stubborn?  In the past she was always very much a “daddy’s girl”, but I really feel that we’ve been forging much more of a bond lately.  I wish that extended to her cleaning the house more, but, ah well.  Baby steps.

Besides, the cat doesn’t do anything either. 

PERSONAL

I keep working toward just being the best person I can.  That, after all, is the only all-encompassing resolution this work-in-progress gal seems capable of handling sometimes.  I still feel things intensely, but I am always working to communicate in a level-headed, intelligent way.  Sometimes that means writing more.  Sometimes that means just letting shit go.  Sometimes that means being very honest and open with my thoughts—or just showing my crazy once in a while.  You’re welcome.  Ha ha.

FRIENDSHIP

I wish I had spent more time with my friends in 2018, but I am appreciative for the ones with whom I was able to get together.  I will have to work on that for 2019!  Yes, it probably seems funny to think that someone as seemingly extroverted as I am would need to work on socialization, but I do.  It never really does me any good to hole up at home.  Sometimes a little social interaction is all I need.  I do like my Netflix time, though. 

I have also met/become better friends with some REALLY awesome people this year.  I look forward to being around them more too. 

So there you go, Lovelies, some of the highlights of my year.  I hope that you are able to look back at your year and find some triumphs of your own…and that you are able to build upon them for 2019!

Until next year, Lovelies...HAPPY NEW YEAR!

On the Sixth Day of Christmas....

ON THE SIXTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS, MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME...AN APOLOGY

I’ve recently been dealing with the potential loss of a close friend.  The details of our row are not important, but suffice it to say he had not acted in accordance to what I consider the number one rule of human interaction of “Don’t be a Dick.”  I felt like my patience and resources had been used and abused.  Although he claimed to love (platonically) and respect me, I felt neither of those things.  Better to rid oneself of the head and heart ache by severing ties with a “friend” like that.  I was absolutely prepared to walk away from the friendship.  

And so I began, unbeknownst to him, of course, the process of dealing with the emotional wreckage.  I distanced myself from him, unfollowing him on Facebook and maintaining radio silence.  I only succumbed to the occasional sobbing-in-the-shower jag.  I was doing fine.

I really only "had my mad on" for a few days, when, lo and behold, he sought me out, wanting to allegedly apologize and to make amends.  At first, I wasn’t sure I wanted to meet with him and was, in fact, even cautioned against it by some of my other friends.  I do try, however, to give people the benefit of the doubt...and, hell yeah, I felt I did deserve an apology.  I acquiesced and we met for coffee.

In the tearful, exhausting hour and a half that followed, he did indeed apologize.  Not just the casual, reactionary  and innocuous maybe-not-really sorry type of apology either (Oh, you know the ones I mean…like, “I’m sorry you’re mad” or “I’m sorry we’re fighting” or, worse, “I’m sorry for the outcome of my actions, but not really the actions themselves.”).  No, this was a genuine, heartfelt apology with an actual, coherent grasp both of the situation and my feelings.  Honestly, it was the only thing that would have worked to repair.  OK, maybe a little John Cusack with a boombox action would have too...although I don't know of any songs for healing a friendship that wouldn't come off as too romantic.  Ha ha. 

And while it is the ensuing actions that will determine the course of our friendship in the future, for now, I can only hope that we are on the mend—and that our friendship will indeed be stronger for it.  I will try, therefore, to keep both my heart and mind open enough to allow the healing to continue.  A girl needs all the friends she can get sometimes. 

Until next time, Lovelies….