bases covered

A few months ago I caved.
"A gift to myself" I said.

I hired a cleaning lady.

Seriously? In your tiny house? It seems like such a waste of money!
No, no it's not.

See, I've mentioned before- I'm an "outty" organizer, raised by a family of "inny" organizers. Things need to be tidy in their place out of sight so I don't suffer from guilt. My deceased mother's voice "don't you care about the things you own?" rings in my ears when I look at my cluttered dresser... my father's actual voice "your mother would have had a fit if she saw your counter" as he walks through my kitchen.

I feel bad when things are a mess. But, I don't know where stuff is if it's out of sight.

Enter the cleaning lady. (A coworker who has a passion for cleaning). My house makes me giggle when I walk in the door... it's that clean.

But I have a dirty (messy) secret. My bedroom has been an embarrassing mess/disaster for months. To the point that I told the cleaning lady that I didn't want her to do my room.... So I've kept my door closed when anyone enters the house... I pile things in the corners... on top of the dresser. Clothing lays in a pile beside the bed. Not quite to the point of looking like a hoarder's home... but close.

When I go out of town I get a twinge of "I'd better not die in a car accident or end up in hospital- someone will see my room".

This week the cleaning lady came... and decided to clean my room. I had a few moments of  panic "what will she think of me"... but mostly it's been relief.

At least now if I die, it won't be from embarrassment. 

Please no.

I've just come back from a fantastic weekend at Hillside Festival... what an amazing space.  Maybe I'll write more about my experiences there... but first, a moment that has me all mixed up in how to respond.

I ran into a friend and her partner one afternoon. They were with a few other friends and we struck up a conversation.

At one point I found myself speaking with a handsome young man. It wasn't flirtatious, just very comfortable and so completely unguarded that it stood out in a space where everyone was gathered with the purpose of watching a well rehearsed "show".  It must have struck others as something unusual, because my friend's partner turned to young handsome and in a manner not so discreet,  false whispered "What's going on? Are you interested in her?" Embarrassed with his obvious disapproval, we both turned away and young handsome stammered a response of "um, I'm just a friendly guy". I tried hard to keep my composure and eventually found an excuse to leave the circle.


A few things struck me... friend's partner is bit of an awkward douche or maybe he's just a bit of a douche when he drinks.  I don't know.

The other is more troubling, and bothered me for most of the weekend.  This lovely young guy is likely going to think twice before he allows himself to fully be present in a conversation with someone who might not fit his peers' expectations of conformity to the "cool club".

I wanted to find him in the crowd and tell him to never let go of being beautifully unguarded, tell him that he is going to find the most amazing things if he can be present with people.... that being an aloof hot shot gets old quick... and then hand him a book of Shane Coyzan's poetry...

There were some real moments of beauty this weekend.

some days aka soymedayys

Some days, it's too hot to do anything after work but lay on the couch with a beer and watch too many episodes of "Orange is the New Black" on Netflix. (Side note... DEAR GLORY ME... THAT is a great show... a little graphic nudity, but who isn't desensitized already these days?)

Some days, your dog bumps into the table and knocks your beer onto the laptop.

Sometimes, when you're really lucky, the next morning... only a few keys are a little sticky and the touch pad isn't your best friend, and your computer smells like a dirty bar.... but you're happy anyway because you didn't get the blue screen of death when you turned your computer on that morning.

Let's all think warm loving thoughts for my computer shall we?

friend failure

The last half hour of work at the group home is generally spent watching old TV shows on DVD. Lots of I love Lucy, Bonanza, John Wayne, and tonight's choice- The Andy Griffth Show.

I came in partway through the episode... Andy's house is slowly filling with women, some sort of hen party that he didn't know about. I ask Jen what I've missed....

"I think that Barney is trying to help him find a new wife."

Sure enough, Barney enters the house and peers through the kitchen door at the ladies gathered in the living room. He asks Andy if he's seen anything he likes... Andy demands to know what's going on, then insists that the ladies are told to leave once Barney tells him that his future wife might be in the room.

Andy: Why would you do something like that?
Barney: As your best friend I'm just trying to look out for you.

Involuntarily my head sloooooooowly turns toward Jen.. I can't stop it. I look directly at her.

I look away... but it's too late.

Jen starts to kill herself laughing and apologizes for not having done the same for me.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

NO
Seriously?
really?


9 years?

This blog holds 9 years of my thoughts?





(I'm writing this in March 2013, knowing that this is coming and not wanting to wait to write this post... if I've accidently died since setting this to auto post in the future... um... sorry for creeping you out... and.. um.. I love you.)

they're baaaa-aack

It took two crunches before I realized what was happening.

It was so familiar, but so strange. A forgotten memory.

I was out for a walk down to the beach with my new lovely pup (story about the pup later) when I heard a crunch... felt a crunch. One more step and I felt and heard another.
It was the second crunch that did it.
I looked down immediately, knowing I'd have to tread carefully.

Mass snail exodus.

Snails... everywhere.

I counted eleven more in the four yards before the beach.
So gross.

that sticky noise when you step in a puddle

I started running again last week.
I've been hurting all over anyway, so I figured if I started running now.. the pain would all get lumped together and it wouldn't matter.

I forgot how much I love it. And hate it.

Anyway, walking is too slow. I get frustrated. But my body isn't back in shape enough to run at the speed that I want/need.

Today was a 12 hour shift. I had to cancel my Uke lesson (there goes my spending money) in order to stay at the group home when a coworker called in sick. Yes I make more money at the group home than with lessons, but only if I'm paid at my contract rate... I won't go into the details, but basically this just makes me want to go for a LONG run.

Except that I've been wearing those running shoes for more than 13 hours today and my feet smell like a swamp.

I'm going to bed instead.

In pieces

This morning I staggered into the bathroom and sat down... Then looked at my legs in horror.

I'm covered in dime sized bruises from my knee to my thigh. My sleep crusted eyes and foggy brain couldn't process what I was seeing, so I just stared.

After a few seconds I woke up enough to realize what it was that I was seeing.

During the show last week there were so many funny moments, and so many touching moments... that I would forget why I was there. I'd be lost in the story lines of the other actors within the first few seconds that they'd take the stage. I'd roar with laughter over and over no matter how many how many times I heard their parts... and I'd tear up, and openly weep during others. Then I'd spend the first 15 seconds I was on stage trying to remember who my character was... trying to regroup from what I'd just watched.

When we actually started the show for an audience I realized that I needed to keep myself in check. I couldn't sit and cry through the touching piece before I went on stage, I needed to isolate myself... my character from the other story lines so I could fully be my own character. I needed a distraction that would bring me back to my seat- out of the story being played out in front of me....

I took to jamming my thumbs into my thigh muscle.

I should likely come up with some other method for the future.

More Work Than a Puppy

A few months ago my friend Heather came to my door.
It was a Wednesday night, 9:30ish. She had papers in her hands.

"You didn't come to the auditions"

"No, I decided that it wasn't something I was ready to do.. and I'm just really trying to protect my time, and I feel like I'm busy all the time. I want to be able to spend time with people... not commit to something else. And... it's a monologue. I've never done a monologue! I can't do one! That's scary stuff!"

I was totally making excuses.

"But I saved one just for you... it's the shortest one... and... I think that you're the right person to do it!"
She hands me the papers.

"but.. uh. oh. but. Well, come in... do you want some tea? I'll read it, but I'm not promising anything."


We sat down, sipped tea.. visited... and then Heather asked me to read it out loud.
I could barely read it out to her.... I started blushing on the first line.
The words on the pages were not words that I say out loud.... hardly ever.

And then she sucker punched me.

"if you do it, we'll get to hang out every week, just us... for a little bit each week, and we can make it fit with your schedule... so it's like the best of both worlds, you'll get to do a show, and have time with me!"

deep down

I'm in a play that's wrapping up today.
A series of monologues called "More Work Than a Puppy".

I've tapped into an emotion (Anger) that I don't often use. Anger scares me. I've seen a lot of it around me, and in my teen years spent too much time on the receiving end to be comfortable with it. Not that anyone is ever comfortable with anger.. just that I've seen the rage and have been so terrified by it, that I fear who I'd be if I ever allowed myself to face it head on.

My character in this show loses her shit on a man... like... LOSES HER SHIT. Friends who've seen the show have come to me after and said they're a little afraid of me, that they've never seen me get mad at someone in the first place, so seeing this rage is almost too much. I have to remind them I'm acting.
Am I acting?
Does this live in me?

Pulling this from within me has felt So Good. After each show I can't stop laughing, I'm giddy, I'm ... probably ready to take on anything... I'm ... ready to lose my shit on whoever deserves it. Is that me?
And pulling this from within me has also made me so aware of each and every emotion on a ridiculous level. I'm already hypersensitive to emotions from other people, and now I'm hypersensitive to my own? This is messy.