the storm that's brewing

there is an electricity in the air tonight. flashes of light and thunder ... the air still ... feeling heavy - hungry almost - and needing the release. last week, electronic signs on the highway warned, 'hurricane churning in the gulf. keep tank full.' and i'm not sure those signs weren't speaking solely to me.

the future has me slightly unnerved, even as my whole self stretches out toward it. i never gave much thought to the weight of those butterflies tickling my insides until they settled, lead-footed. only now, do i truly understand the power of gravity. still ... it's this mixture of fear and joy that is keeping me balanced as i walk the tightrope of my own happiness.

i wonder ... will i like them? will they like me? will they find me funny? think me sweet and silly ... or cloying and a bit daft?

doesn't really matter, i suppose. i am who i am and i do what i do. i can only behave in a style that is the most true of 'me.' i can't force that truth. it comes with surrender and the decision to sing out and allow it to escape. still, i've spent long hours with the question of how to embrace the potential unfolding to the west and how to see around the corners there. (and in between, there are moments when my ego flees and my mind keeps screaming that this is going to take so much more than i've got.) does that ever happen to you? i don't suppose it does. what i carry around, though, is that it all begins right here. at the end.

you ask after post sale fif and faf and we have been unusually busy this week ... and i am happy for the the rhythm - it keeps me present, and rightly so, at a time when i would be quite happy to daydream. and i don't want to waste a moment with these people i enjoy so much. i will miss them so.

there won't be much time to mourn the loss, i'm afraid. the custom sale is soon upon us and in the midst, i'll be interviewing folks for sales positions - our numbers are such that we have been afforded the opportunity to hire not one, but two more - in hopes of catching sales that may be walking out the door as we're all busy entertaining customers.

too, i'm hoping one will shimmer above the rest and rise to be a fitting replacement. i want to believe that there is someone better organized, less scattered, more mature, less motherly and in all ways lovelier than i am. someone who will fit in seamlessly and make them forget i was ever here.

it makes me feel better to believe that's even possible ... softening the guilt and the fear ... blurring my vision just enough that i can barely make out the effect my presence has here.

of course, there's always something to remind me ... ford ('like the car') telling me how proud he is of me, and christine crying like a baby and stacy, thanking me for being the store's 'grace.' i don't quite know what to do with any of that. so, i've folded those memories as neatly as i'm capable of and tucked then into my bag and i'll carry them with me wherever i go ... a talisman against low self-esteem days and a reminder of the kindness and care we're all capable of.

... the world is round ...

... the world is round ...

what's your world like today?

i hope you are finding ways of escaping summer's fury ... a pool would be good for that sort of thing. (i would float for hours, sans vêtements, and would spend the evening giving names to freckles bourne anew.)

how have you been occupying your time? for me, there's been work - we are in inventory mode and i am supremely tired of counting things - and the play, and visits with friends and to the shops. not a lot of activity, really ...

i have been difficult, out of sorts, lately ... needy in ways i'm unfamiliar and uncomfortable with. my apologies if any splashed over onto you.

(it is arrogant, i suppose, to presume you're even interested in this story, but i don't want to hold myself back just because i don't know... )

old wisdoms don't bury peaceably, especially not my own ...

the last days have been a constant reminder that in every life, all is not what it seems. at any given time, reality is a hall of mirrors ... sadness hiding in the heart of euphoria, the spark of great achievement bubbling inside a cauldron of adversity. so too, no end is ever really complete without a new beginning stirring inside it. i divide life into categories in order to understand and master it, but experience itself is seamless. i have to trust, i suppose, that dramatic changes only happen according to divine appointment. i have to have faith that change will benefit me more than clinging to the old ways would have.

sometimes, i think i'd like to keep you separate from all of this. it's painful as hell, and frightening too ... nurturing the life i want to live into being ... opening up the space to find something that better suits me, to find a way to love people without feeling like i'm hurting them by loving them the way i want to.

yet, it feels comfortable, somehow, this knowledge that everyone is busy with their separate lives, and we can go for a week or two with no word, popping in on each other, and it's enough to know that you're still right there, in some corner of my life and i'm right here, in some corner of yours.

as for the corners of my life ...

the play went well. in the end, it played much, much better than it read. there was raucous laughter and thunderous applause and some lovely adjectives tossed about - 'charming' ... 'stunning' ... 'incandescent' ... are among my favorites. and i am $30 richer and hold the title of 'audience favorite' - an odd thing, to be sure, the judging of 'art.' i am not in favor of it, but do enjoy the spoils, i must admit.

work is good. busy, of course. tomorrow is inventory, so i've been up long before the sun this week, counting, adjusting numbers and solving the mysteries of the back of the house. i am a 'words' girl ... numbers send me spinning in all the wrong ways, and yet, the exercise is oddly pleasurable ...

... bringing order to a place where chaos has reigned is an unusual experience ... one i enjoy, but will be glad to see completed ... after all, the world is round, and the place that may seem like the end may only be just the beginning...

until the lights come up

until the lights come up

hello! i am home, just, from rehearsal and find i am giddy from the endorphin release that comes with a particularly good rehearsal and with the knowledge that the house is entirely my own for two entire days and nights - with no one else's laundry or dishes to do ... thus, having logged on in the dark, (to see if you're there somewhere, too) i find myself at the computer with a slow-motion smile. the feeling is intoxicating!

where was i? oh, rehearsal.

this little show i'm in plays much better than it reads - and it would seem i haven't quite forgotten the subtle way i have of making people laugh in all the right places and then turning them inside out ... laughter through tears may be my favorite emotion. my scene partner is absent in these last days of rehearsal - a meeting out of town is the reason - so, our director has graciously stood in. it's odd - changing the rhythm of the thing. it will surely play differently when j is back, but in the meantime, it's fun to play.

i forget, when i've been away for too long, that in order to accomplish what i want, i need time and space to play with it ... the balance is a delicate one. when i get it right ... what, for me, feels right ... there is nothing quite like it. when the show is up, it's electric and immediate - there is no time to think about it and correct it. i'm forced to learn from my mistakes (and others') in the moment and hope we get another chance to redeem ourselves in the midst. the process promotes honesty more than any other form of relationship i know.

i forget, too, the effect my abilities have on other people.

this is a festival - 10 plays, 40+ actors, some of whom i've known for years and worked with ... some i only know by association ... most are strangers who either pay me no mind or look at me in annoyance when i am overtaken by an 'old friend.' (in the theatre, everyone you've ever been on stage with considers her/himself an 'old friend.' it's the thing i have the hardest time with - people claiming connections that seem so false to me.) and in the midst of the chaos, i am quiet backstage. i do not join in the recitation of the resumes - names of plays and directors and characters are lobbed over my head as i apply my makeup. bragging about awards or roles holds no interest for me. i keep to myself. i do not sit in the house and watch the other shows. i am not interested in comparing my work or the opportunities i've been given. instead, i talk quietly with true friends, re-apply lipstick, listen to music in what i like to call my 'pre-game' mode. i'm easy to discount.

until the lights come up.

it's then they swarm, as bees in honey drown, tripping over themselves to be the first to call me 'cute' ... 'funny' ... 'oh so talented.' it always surprises me ... embarrasses me, too. save for a brief moment of enjoyment, i never know the proper response ... so i smile shyly, duck my head down, say 'thank you' repeatedly and run for cover. i'd make a terrible celebrity. though i would enjoy the free shoes.

wow! the storm that's been threatening all day finally broke - with brilliant light and sound and that sideways rain i love so much. it's a sign that i should turn off the computer, i think, and listen to the rain as i fall asleep in the bed i have all to myself!

sleep well, if sleep is what's required.

dia de los bambinos grande

be careful what you wish for me ... an interesting edge, indeed.

the day has been long and customers cranky ... think two year olds long past their nap ... associates, too. today, they pull and clutch, making it impossible to move ... again, i've grown tired of the sound of my name ... of any sound at all, really. it cannot be quiet enough.

'recovery' requires me to steep myself in a warm bath and then pour myself into bed. the phone is off, so please don't call; if i'm to silence the voices in my head, i have to silence those outside as well. i will not hear you tonight.

tomorrow there will be time enough for missing lamps and difficult conversations and grown men behaving like giant babies. they can wait.

shock and awe

i tend to think of shock only in the context of unpleasant events. i'm remembering, now, i can also be jarred by that sudden release of tension which comes with unexpected success. keeping my bearings in the aftershock of victory will be a delightful exercise, i imagine. one i am keen for.

see, the last few weeks have found me battling phantoms and spending my strength with little to show for it. the only way to calm the storm in my brain, i find, is to sit so still, even i forget i am here. from the outside, it must seem an interesting exercise for a whirling-dervish like me ... watching me resist the urge to talk, talk, talk ... my vulnerability revealing itself in ways that challenge my self-control.

i am feeling my way through an awkward space - between places and events - belonging to all and none at the same time and wishing desperately for a space (& time?) to call my own. it's a difficult trip to navigate and the events of past days have left me slightly unnerved.

i imagine it's a hard lesson for those who love me ... my need for solitude. friends will call, come near, come home and i seem irritated (for i am irritated); they interrupt my train of thought, break into the dreamy silence of my day - wince as they see the expression on my face, hear the timbre of my voice - like a closed door - as if i've gone inside some room in my mind where i'm writing or dreaming.

i cannot help it, would not change it. i am who i am and i do what i do. i can only behave in a style that is the most true of 'me.' i can't force that truth. it comes with surrender and the decision to sing out and allow it to escape.

and, sometimes, it's a silent song ... for me alone.

writing, tending the truth, is a private thing. i protect my thoughts as i would my sex. sharing only what i'd like, when i'd like, with the persons only of my choosing. it is a process i do not wish to lay bare. (and it's pleasures are intense for those who engage in it.)

at the same time, i know that everything that radiates light or love is dependent upon something else and only through these dependencies do we discover that everything is related, each thing to the other. awareness of my own dependency on others is the key which will unlock the door to my true place in the world. no woman is an island.

though if i were, i should imagine it would be a great place to visit - you just wouldn't want to live there.

can you ever go home again?

tonight, j went back to the scene of the crime ... a place we once called 'home' and the one place we made a pact to never set foot in again. there's a message in that, i believe ... one i'm not interested in facing tonight.

it was a good move for him, i think. a night out with old friends, a chance to be feted and fawned over ... it's the least he deserves.

i don't suppose it was ever his fight anyway - it was me they didn't like. i am not the nicest person you will ever meet. i do not suffer fools gladly. i can alienate people in a single bound ...

... and i can never seem to remember that when the darkness of stupidity reigns it is best that my 'brilliance' stay hidden. some people do not appreciate my 'light' ... or my tongue.

i could have gone back, might have gone back, but i am crazy good at holding grudges. i certainly have the capacity for forgiveness, but i find that, like most things in life, it is a choice. i can choose to forgive. i can choose not to. in this instance, i choose not to.

does that make me sound bitter? because i don't feel bitter. i feel hopeful and sort of sleepy, but ... nope ... not a hint of bitter.

in fact, i'm happy that he went back. he belongs there. and i think he needs them more than i do. still. there are things there that i miss. friends. traditions. memories. though, not enough to take me back. though, if i'm honest, i have to say i never thought 'home' would end up where i don't belong.

who knows? maybe forgiveness will find me ...







but don't hold your breath.

the great cupcake battle

the great cupcake battle

what's the best thing that's happened to you today?

for me, it was waking with a watermelon sun rising slowly outside my window, being serenaded by a favorite song, and making cupcakes and not to having to share the licking of the bowl with anyone, save for the dog.

i am proud to say i have conquered the cupcake recipe. though, they sit in the kitchen in various states of undress. it is the height of irony, i think, that she who has mastered the art of discursivity, of fif and faf, finds herself to be icing-impaired. i am at war with the cupcakes' sugary couture.

the great cupcake battle has been undertaken in honor of mylinh, who finally convinced herself that she does not belong with us and will indeed be better off (and infinitely happier) working in the wedding planning industry she so adores. it fills me with great joy and a small amount of pride to see her take this leap forward. it was, as mylinh would say, very 'heroish.'

even so, i miss her tiny face. and her very high heels. and 'mylinglish' ... the way she would marvel at my wizardry with numbers and mistakenly declare me a 'math-magician!' ... her tales of having been frightened by almost everything and nearly screaming 'bloody mary!' and although she butchers the english-language in ways beyond imagination, the girl bakes a hell of a cupcake. i might miss that most of all.

and so, in her absence, i'm fighting to fill the void, to keep a little bit of her with us, even as she's entertaining brides and their maids ... and the casualties shall be delicious.