Just for You

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Vice Cards; or "Careful Adventures in the Land of Persuasion"

 
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“You are a deeply rooted student of the earth and a creative mind.  You are a caregiver of children and the planet. You are an expressive spirit of life.”

--D. B., 2014

I’m living a mayfly life these days. Short bursts of frenetic, kinetic energy guide my searches lately, and then the resounding crash or crunch or flapping from being trapped in the spider’s web.  I’m the single mama all the time, but some days I don’t have my children; I replace them with a phantom-limb sadness that aches and makes me turn my head down, looking for two more people at my elbows.  On the some days that I don’t have my children, I’m a woman catching up. I’m cleaning, I’m cooking, I’m filing, I’m reading, I’m writing, I’m typing, typing, typing, keeping correspondence with so many. Some of my correspondents I love more than life, knowing that they love me the same way. To others, I give too much of my time.

“…Your time is so, so precious.”

--N. M., 2014

I have never had to make so many decisions about so many different things at once; at a time where my self-esteem roller-coasters from a dizzying peak of confidence (a summit I don’t recall ever reaching until now) to a self-deprecating gorge of indecision, I worry that the choices I’m making may not be the best, but then, I don’t think they’re the worst, either. Most are matters of the heart.

For example (let’s make a list, because lists are easy):

1. I traveled alone and met someone I had never met in real life before.
2. Gave my heart out to a few new people.  As of this writing, some have treated it well, made a lovely nest for it, and continue to nurture it. I’m lucky to call them my friends. Others tried to hold it with sticky fingers, held it too tightly, dropped it, and used second-hand scotch-tape to repair the larger chunks. In those cases, I tried to pick up the smaller pieces and put them back in my heart dresser. Some of them won’t go back in the drawer.
3. I stayed up too late writing/talking/singing/playing/staring/folding laundry/doing dishes/unpacking/youtubing/listening to sad music/crying/neglecting folding laundry.   I should sleep more.
4. I’ve allowed others to invade my sleep; Freddy Kruegers that just want to hang out until they’re ready for bed.
5. I’ve eaten alone again, happily. Foodgasms abound at the Driftless Café in Viroqua, gentle reader, and I implore you to savor their wares.
6. Paddleboarded and kayaked for the first time. And I liked it.
7. Drank a bourbon mojito (Woodford Reserve, per Nagorski rules) at 1pm after smoking a very small cigar and eating fantastic macaroni and cheese, with a new friend, and I picked up the tab. Because it was Tuesday.

 There will be more, to be sure.

“Tonight you should be able to go to bed thinking, ‘I made the best choices today.’”

--K. M., 2014

Oh, the vice cards we get to play in this year post-divorce…My vices are few, and my boundaries and controls are almost painfully in place. Sometimes I wish I could be as carefree as the polyamorous lover who can easily share what she wants and what she has…I wish I could be the exhibitionist cabaret singer who can throw you a pie filled with emotional meringue, to be licked off the noses in the front row…I wish I could run into the bluffs with bare feet and ripped jeans and scream to hear my voice bounce off the suburban shingle that cloisters too much stuff.

And I don’t, because most of the time, more often than not, I really quite like who I am, right now…and because I’m tired. This gig is tough. But still…

I’m so glad to be here right now, like this. It’s rare and bright pink and just a little too sensitive to the touch. Not the wound after the scab has been ripped off, but the fresh scar that was hidden by bandages for so long.

You teach me so much. You, you, you. You who crochet, and you who listen, and you who buy me a drink, and you who lift something heavy with me, and you who put my shelf together, and you who led and you who let me lead.

You are so very many different people I am so very grateful for.  

*The above quotes are very real. I'm lucky I got to have them hand-delivered to me.

"Because I'm Lazy..."

I've re-invented myself within the confines and freedoms and passageways of divorce. I've sought and I've found. I've gotten lost many, many, many times. I've counted my steps, retraced my path, and discovered new routes.

Most would call this productivity. One does not. To that, I respond with this.

I also don't spend nearly enough time singing like a jilted, 1920's torch singer.

I've never been lazy in my life. I don't intend to start anytime soon. Busy might be my leisure.

Sing if You're Winning

A short post:

Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
Cover songs are silly,
and so are girls with ukes.

You've been warned: I'm happy.

Telling Relic

Found this whilst digging through old Word documents, in an effort to organize my growing number of saved applications, cover letters, and resumes.  The following document, titled "What I Want", is dated 11/11/05. Two years into marriage, I had already been through a severe depression (for which I was medically treated for one year), had done service in Chicago, became homeless and then gained residence, completed a year's worth of service for AmeriCorps, and was working for Barnes & Noble.  My children, my back injury, and my community theatre life had not come into existence.  I was hungry for something, but I didn't know what it tasted like.  I remember being content enough, but not particularly happy or joyful in my life. Not depressed, not exultant, just sort of abiding in a comfortable middle ground that was neither life-giving nor depleting.  It was only a few months later that I became pregnant with my son.

Interestingly, it wasn't until my children were born that I started to find and do the things that I wanted to do. I learned how to run, I got back into yoga, took some tap classes, learned to play the ukulele, made some paintings, got an ipod (it was '05, and I was still using a Discman, for goodness sake), returned to performance, and eventually saw all of the Harry Potter films.  During this time of constant change and upheaval in my personal life, it's nice to know that I got what I wanted, eventually, when I made the decision, for myself, to do the things I wanted to do. I'd be lying if I didn't say that I'm a bit excited about what the future might bring. (I'm also excited to find a bra that fits.)

 

What I Want: Long Term

1. Get some sort of grad/diploma degree for theatre/interdisciplinary arts.
2. Get a trade: yoga, carpentry, cooking, computer tech, esthestician, mechanics
3. Kid(s)?
4. Live in a bigger city
5. Travel—esp. eastern & western Europe
6. iPod
7. Get a promotion at B&N

What I Want: Short Term

1. Go to movie by myself.
2. Make a painting.
3. Finish a story.
4. Take a yoga class.
5. Take a dance class.
6. Take guitar lessons.
7. Get a bra that fits.
8. Get shoes that fit and are comfy.
9. Buy frames for pictures.
10. Go to work.
11. See the new Harry Potter.
12.  

Airing of the Grievances, or: In Honor of Festivus, Before the Feats of Strength

 
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For very long I’ve kept very quiet about very much. While I’m not prone to rampant acts of disclosure, and while I recognize that the internet seems to be the repository of every fleeting feeling every half-wit (and half that) may feel, I do believe it’s time to shake out a few rugs and clear a few cobwebs. And, because I’m fond of lists, I’ll bullet point this fine fancying of mine.

1. I’m working 30+ hours/week during this holiday season; a change from the last 6 years of my life, which were solely devoted to raising my babes and keeping a home and garden (amongst many other things). I enjoy my co-workers and I like my department and I’m grateful to have the chance to re-establish myself in the working world again, but retail is draining and demanding and has left me raw and withdrawn. Many have supported me during this return to work, and I am so incredibly grateful to them for their love and good cheer and offers of babysitting.

2. I’m exhausted. Mentally, physically, and spiritually I am spent. I have found that the rigors of maintaining the perception of normality while living with my former partner has left me feeling used and fraudulent, like the fifty dollar bills Data finds in the Fratelli’s basement. More on this to follow, once there is finality.

3. An exercise in careful contemplation, as a random glimpse of an evening’s emotions that I might maintain: Imagine that someone you would assume would work in the best interest of others has decided to transport ill children (pinkeye, upper respiratory infections, fever) to his mother’s house in the middle of a snowy state under the threat of a snowstorm, in that he may have a 48-hour date in a far-flung major city with his current girlfriend. Ponder your response. I imagine it would leave me distraught, unnerved, and enormously sad.

4. Dating is awkward and relevant and irrelevant and surprising and fun, at times. I imagine that if someone was actually interested in me, they would be interested in me. See the Momus video, referenced in my previous entry, “We’re Here One Minute, the Next One We’re Dead.” If I am what you think I am, or if you want to know what you think I am, then let your curiosity guide you. I will not do the work for you.

5. I love my friends. Again, you know who you are. Thank you for understanding me when I say I want to hang out with you and then I change my mind, because I can, because I can’t, because I can, because of my eye of the storm. None of you are getting Christmas gifts this year, and every one of you doesn’t care. I love you even more for this. For those of you that gave me something during this season—either your time or something in/tangible (a job, a cd, a crocheted coffee cozy, skype time, felt foxes for my babes, a card, a story of your failed/successful relationship, a call, a hug—so, so many hugs, an hour of babysitting/swapping, a drink, a lunch, a kiss/et al, a smile), you are the vitality that helps me breathe easier and cry comfortably; the balm that has helped my sore soul stay (mostly) in shape, the glue that keeps me from losing bits of myself along the path. I am so lucky to have you in my life, all of you.

6. It's been six months (the summer solstice, to be exact) that this union was officially dissolved. The divorce papers will be submitted in January. Celebration will come with the housewarming, at a later date, and I look forward to a better night’s sleep that only one’s own nest can bring.

Try a Little Tenderness

I'm working this Thanksgiving (Wed., Thurs, Fri., Sat., & Sun). Many in retail/food-service/healthcare are doing the same. If you happen to be in a position where you're interacting with any of us, please:

1. Be kind. We're here to help you, as we're in a position of service.
2. Because we're in a position of service, we'll treat you well. You do the same.
3. If we can't help you the moment you need us, don't take it personally. We'll do our best for you as soon as you can. Your patience is appreciated.
4. Don't tell me "it sucks to work on Thanksgiving." I don't share the thought, and I'm not interested in spending time thinking about something that doesn't apply to me.
5. Don't take retail/food-service so seriously--lots of folks are wanting the same thing of us as you are, so please understand that when it's your turn, we'll give you our full attention. Until then, see number 3. A sense of humor is most welcome, especially if it's a good joke about 4th-string quarterbacks, icy winds, or Hobbits. All of these are good conversation starters. Which brings me to the final bit:
6. I'm a human; I'm not a service-bot--some sort of android designed for just you. I can only do a few things at once, and I do have flaws, as I'm a thinking, feeling, emoting sack of bones.

Treat me and all my brothers and sisters in service with kindness and patience this holiday season, and I guarantee you will get the best service I can possibly give.