Tag Archives: blog

09

Jul. ’13

Criticism

criticism2

You know what’s really, really hard to do?

Not letting people’s opinions of you matter.

You know what’s even harder than that?

Not letting people’s opinions of your work matter.  And by work, I mean my writing.

Now, granted, I don’t get paid to write.  (Well, I did once, but I don’t see that becoming a regular thing.)  But I honestly view writing as “work” in a way.  No, I don’t get a paycheck, but I do get compensation.  And that compensation lies in a feeling of accomplishment.  A deep knowing that I’m doing what I’m meant to do.  I don’t know if anything I have said thus far has made a difference to anyone else, but I know it has made a difference to me.  I have opened up; I have taken a chance; and I have bared myself for all the world to see.  Do you have any clue how hard that is to do?  It does get easier as time goes by, mind you.  But those early days of tossing around the idea in my mind to start a blog were so nerve-wracking.  Until you’ve done it, or done something similar, you can’t understand.  I remember my hands trembling each time I pressed that big blue “publish” button.  Because each time I pressed it, I was saying, “Here I am.  What do you think?”

Now, most people have answered that “What do you think?” question in a very positive way.  Including, as I briefly mentioned before, a panel of judges in the first writing contest I had ever entered.  But there has been one person who hasn’t seen it so favorably.

And isn’t it just crazy how one person’s negative voice can speak so much more loudly in your head than many others’ positive ones?

Why is that?  Why do we allow that to happen?

Sigh.

So, honestly, there’s really no point to this blog.  I’m just venting.  Like she says, I’m just “throwing together a bunch of whiney crap.”

But hey, it’s my blog, and I’ll whine if I want to.

Something I have always taught my kids is this: When someone hurts you, let them serve as a lesson to you about the kind of person that you don’t want to be.  I hope I have never, ever, made someone feel the way this girl has made me feel.  Thank you, unkind person, for providing such a glaring example of how not to treat your fellow human beings.

I’m so glad I’m not you.

***

“Criticism really used to hurt me.  Most of these critics are usually frustrated artists and they criticize other people’s art because they can’t do it themselves.  It’s a really disgusting job.  They must feel horrible inside.”
– Rosanna Arquette

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05

Jul. ’13

Through the Sunroof

fireworkssunroof

This is a picture I took last night as I watched the fireworks from inside my car during the rain.  Pretty cool, huh?

Only….maybe not.

Sigh.

Ok, so one of the “gifts” I’ve been blessed (cursed?) with in my life is that I can never just see something on the surface.  I always look deeper, see beneath the layer of obvious.  And this is one of those times.

So, yes, it was raining.  And yes, sitting inside the car kept me from getting wet.  But I was sitting there alone.  My daughter and her friend had gotten out of the car, rain be darned, and were watching the fireworks close by while looking for other friends and not caring whether they got soaked or not.  They were having fun.  Me?  I was sitting in the safe, warm, dry, lonely car.

And that reminded me of something.

That’s how I am with friendships.

Alright, let me back up a little.

Earlier in the day, I had taken my daughter and her friend to the Independence Day parade.  While she and her friend met up with other friends and had a good time watching the parade, I stood off to the side.  Again, alone.  (My boyfriend Richard had to work.)  And standing there alone watching the parade, I noticed that my eyes kept getting drawn to a group of women to my right.  While I was supposed to be watching the marching band, the ambulances, and the classic cars roll by, instead I caught myself watching the spectators.  Especially these particular ones.  There were this group of five older ladies, and they were just about the cutest things I’d ever seen.  They were decked out in Independence Day attire – complete with little headbands with fake fireworks and their matching flag-sporting t-shirts and red capris.  And let me tell ya – these women were having a blast.  They were hooting and hollering and thought each and every float that went by was the best one of all.  I know, because I heard them say so.  They were clapping along with the music and stopping every so often to put their arms around each other and bask in the glory of the day.

I was in awe.

I mean, yes, they were a sight to behold so I’m sure I wasn’t the only one whose attention they caught.  But aside from that, seeing them struck a chord in me that I couldn’t quite explain.  I didn’t know why it made me a little sad to see them, but it did.  I didn’t give it much thought – just went back to my business.  But later that night, sitting there alone in the car watching the fireworks through my sunroof, it finally dawned on me where that sadness came from.

I don’t have that.

And it’s my own fault.

You hear talk all the time of people holding back from relationships because of trust issues and fear, etc.  That seems to be a common topic of discussion amongst our psychology-driven fellow citizens.  But I wonder if there maybe shouldn’t be a little talk about how that might apply to friendships sometimes too?  Am I the only one that holds back from becoming close to friends?  That has trouble relating and depending on others? Especially women?

Now, granted, I do have one good friend from high school that I turn to when things go wrong.  And I’d like to think she does the same with me.  Her name is Iman (but we always called her MiMi in high school, so that’s how I’ll refer to her from her on).  But Mimi is far away and most of our talks are by computer or text (my fault, not hers).  I can’t help but see the psychology behind that.  The only female friend that I really rely on is still kept at a safe distance through not only actual physical distance, but also through the ways that I choose to communicate with her.  She would love to chat on the phone sometimes, and we have a few times, but somehow I tend to shy away from it.  Too personal, maybe?  The times we have talked by phone were the times when I was at my most vulnerable – when I was extremely upset and was finally forced into letting a friend “in.”  But other than those times?  I don’t know, I just tend to stay guarded.  Alone.

(Note:  “Far away” Mimi is not going to be so far away very soon.  She’s moving close to where I am in about a month.  I guess it’s time to start figuring out what the heck is wrong with me, huh?)

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I’ve tried.  I have started to make close girlfriends (ones that are actually physically nearby).  But like MiMi says, “Girl friendships take time.  They are just like guy relationships, but there’s no initial attraction or hormone release that feel good like with the opposite sex. So, it just takes time to bond.”

Well there ya go.  Therein lies part of my problem, I suppose.  To put your time and effort into something requires trust that it’s going to be worth it in the end.  And “trust?”  Yeah, I’m not so good at that.  When the going gets tough, this tough girl gets going.  Right on out the door.

I don’t really have a point to this blog, I don’t suppose.  I guess it’s just one of those times when I felt like writing about something that was really bothering me – the things that I sometimes try to keep to myself, but that my writer’s brain can’t ignore.  I guess I also would like some feedback.  Are you like this?  Any idea why I am?  Got any good drugs I can borrow?

Ok, that last one was a joke.

Sort of.

But seriously – I guess it’s time for me to start getting out of the car, ya know?  Time to get out there and watch the fireworks on the big screen of life, instead of through the tiny little sunroof of safety.  Yes, I may get a little wet from the rain at times, but oh what a sight I will behold.

Time to realize that it might be worth a few raindrops in order to fully experience the performance, right?

***

“Standing outside the fire
Standing outside the fire
Life is not tried it is merely survived
If you’re standing outside the fire”
– Garth Brooks lyrics, Standing Outside the Fire

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03

Jul. ’13

Attention

Warning.  Snark Alert.

Oh yeah, this one is going to be a little snarky.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

If you’re a regular follower of my blog, you are aware that most of my writing is on the ‘upbeat’ side.  There’s usually a lesson learned or a happy ending and so forth.  I try not to make it too cheesy, but I like to put a positive spin on life’s little ‘events.’  It’s how I get through them.  And I hope that maybe it might help some of my readers see their own situations with a new positive light.  Hey, it could happen.  No point floating through the world only seeing the bad, right?  Might as well make lemonade and whatnot.

But sometimes….

Sigh.

Sometimes things just piss me off.  And I’m not so sure there’s going to be a positive spin to put on it.  So, brace yourself.

Now, I fully understand that my writings and the things I share aren’t everyone’s cup of tea.  And that’s cool.  Whatev.  I’m not writing for you.  I’m writing for the ones who do want to read it.  (And I’m writing for myself – unloading some of this stuff in my brain to make room for other important things.)  So, basically, if you don’t like my stuff, that’s fine.  My blog and my Facebook posts are not required reading on some syllabus.  Move along.  It’s that simple.

But someone criticized me pretty harshly the other day.  They remarked that not everyone wants to read about my frilly, unimportant love life and that there are bigger things going on in the world.  And most notably – that I should stop all of these “cries for attention” with my Facebook and blog posts.

Alrighty then.

Let me tell you a little something.

I’m not stupid.  I don’t hide my head in the sand and refuse to see the events of the world around me.  You think I don’t know that bad things are happening in the world?  You think I don’t know that there are children starving in other countries?  You think I don’t know that our own country is being ripped apart by differing views on gay rights, abortion stances, lingering racism, etc.  You think I’m an idiot?  Well, I’m not.  I have a newspaper.  I have the internet.  I have a brain.

But you know what makes me different from you?

I purposely and actively choose to pay attention to the things that make me happy.

“Tell me to what you pay attention and I will tell you who you are.”
– Jose  Ortega y Gasset

Yes, those things make me sad.  Yes, I care.  Yes, I wish there was something I could do about it.  But there’s not.  Yes, it sucks that Paula Deen was/is racist.  Yes, it sucks that that signifies that there are still racial issues in this country.  But my choosing not to jump on the bandwagon of criticism and shunning her does not make me uncaring.  And it most definitely does not make me a racist.  I just understand what I can and cannot change.  One woman being an ass is not something that I have time and energy to devote to right now.  Who knows what was said and done by her?  And frankly, why should we care?  Really.  Why?  Is it a shock to you that someone in this world is racist?  Well, it shouldn’t be.  A lot of people are.  A lot of people also hate gay people and think they shouldn’t be afforded the same rights as the rest of us.  A lot of people still think women shouldn’t be in affluent positions.  A lot of people are jerks.  This shouldn’t be a newsflash.

So, no.  My blog is not centered around Paula Deen or racism or third world countries.  You’re right.  It’s not.  It’s about the things that I have in my world on a regular basis.  It’s about the battles I choose and not about the ones I don’t.

And yes, maybe I do write for “attention.”  I mean, is that really a shocker?  I’m a writer, for God’s sake.  We write to be read.  I’m also an actor.  Hello?  An actor looking for attention?  SHOCKING!  It’s who I freakin’ am.  And besides, I’m not doing anything any different than anyone else who ever posts a Facebook status.  We all just want to be heard.  Regardless of the topic.  Regardless of whether it’s uber important current issues, or whether it’s the cutesy happy events of everyday life.  If you don’t want to hear about my everyday happy life, then move along.

And hey, just for good measure, let me just wrap this up with a little lovey dovey picture of me and Richard.

changeblog

Awwwww.  Ain’t it sweet?  We’re so in love.

Oh and hey.  Here.  Look at this picture of a cute little puppy.

puppy

How’s that?

For my regular readers, I apologize for the sarcasm.  I hope you’ll be back.  This is just a temporary vent.  It happens.

But to my criticizer?

Thanks for the attention. 😉

But hey, on a serious note: I truly hope you can find happiness in your life so that you can stop focusing on the things that make you miserable.  I used to be just like you.  It’s a sad, sad place to be.  When you want to enact change, focusing on the negative is not going to work.  Broadcasting the negative is not going to work.  Screaming at the people who disagree with you is not going to work.

“Be the change you wish to see in the world.”
– Mahatma Gandhi

You want things to change, something to disappear, something to go way?  Stop feeding it.  Stop spreading it.

If you have an unwelcomed dinner guest, stop setting a place for them at your table.

It’s that simple.  (Believe me – I’ve had to learn that lesson myself lately.)

You alone cannot change how someone else thinks – you can’t change the whole world with one mean-spirited Facebook post.  But you can change your world.  Choose what you concentrate on.  Choose where you put your energies.

Choose happiness.

I’m not saying one person can’t eventually change the world.  Maybe they can.  But I’m certain that they should probably start with changing their own world first.

***

“A positive attitude causes a chain reaction of positive thoughts, events and outcomes.  It is a catalyst and it sparks extraordinary results.”
– Wade Boggs

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01

Jul. ’13

Anniversary

“We are not the same persons this year as last; nor are those we love. It is a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love a changed person.”
– W. Somerset Maugham

Today, July 1, is mine and Richard’s first anniversary.

Well, sort of.

I always hesitate before I write a “personal” blog like this.  And by personal, I don’t mean it’s stuff that I don’t want to share.  Shoot, I’ll share anything you want to know.  No, I mean “personal” in that, it’s my story.  It’s not a general blog that everyone can relate with.  It’s specific.  It’s mine.  But in the past, each time I went ahead and ignored my hesitation and posted a personal blog anyway, they always seem to get the most response.  At first, that used to baffle me.  But over time, I’ve come to realize that people just are generally interested in other people’s stories.  It’s what makes us all ‘connected.’ We like to know each other – know where we come from, why we are the way we are, how we got to the point we got to.  And then we like to see similarities in our own situations and compare our story to theirs.  It’s just part of the human experience.  All of these individual stories work together to create unique squares on the tapestry of humanity.

So, no hesitation this time.  Here’s my contribution to the “quilt.”

I’m just going to tell you a little bit about us – about how happy I am and about how it wasn’t easy getting here.  And maybe you won’t get too bored with it.  This is not your typical lovey dovey “how we met and fell in love” story.

No, our story isn’t quite so cut and dry as that.

Richard and I have trouble deciding what our exact “anniversary” is.  And the reason for that is that we had a little bit of a bumpy start.  There’s no precise before & after line.  There’s a huge pile of gray area.  (And I’m willing to bet that a lot of other couples have this kind of story too.)

Richard and I were a “set up” of sorts.  I had just joined a new theatre and was, yet again, newly single.  A co-actor mentioned Richard’s name once in a “I have a friend I think you’d like…” kind of way back in April of 2012. (I still owe you for that, Barry!)  My initial reaction, of course, was the proud single lady’s response of, “No thanks.  I’m perfectly fine being single.  I don’t need a man to complete me…” blah, blah, blah.  But the second Barry had left the room?  I had my cell phone out looking up this Richard guy on Facebook.  I wasn’t going to “add” him or anything like that.  I mean, come on.  I wasn’t that pathetic.  But stalk him?  Oh yeah.  That was totally acceptable, right?

Well, a few days later, I get a Facebook add from said Richard.  (Hmmm…guess Barry mentioned his little idea to both of us, not just me.)  I added him, and sent a message saying pretty much that very thing.  We laughed about it and proceeded to write back and forth for a few weeks.  I don’t know what it was about those messages, but I was so intrigued by this guy.  First of all, his grammar and punctuation were spot on.  I mean, hello!?  We ALL know that is of the utmost importance in determining potential, right?  But even aside from gaining this wanna-be English teacher’s approval with all the capital letters and periods, he also impressed me with the subjects he wanted to talk about.  We talked about our kids, my theatre, and his music.  All things that were very important to us.  No stupid flirty “hey baby, you wanna go out sometime?” nonsense.  Just real life “here’s what’s important in my life” talk.  I liked that.

So, we planned to meet.

Ironically, our first meeting took place at the theatre.  His son was auditioning for the next summer musical, Oliver, and I was planning to be there as well.  So, since we were both going to be in town, and his son was going home with his mom after the audition, we decided to plan to meet there and then go out to dinner afterwards.  (Little did we know at the time how instrumental that theatre was going to be in the “story of us.”)

Oh my gosh, I was a nervous wreck.  What do I wear?  What do I talk about?  Will I even recognize this dude from his pictures? Will we be able to talk in person like we’ve done on Facebook?  I had heard that this guy was the “quiet, shy type.”  What in the heck would we have in common??  “Quiet” and “shy” were two words that had never – not once – been used to describe me.  I was exactly the opposite.

Well, worries aside, the meeting went pretty smoothly.  I recognized him immediately.  We walked in together; sat together; chatted about a million things (ok, maybe that was just me chatting nervously, but whatever).  Went to dinner afterwards.  And then again the next night.  And then again the next night.  In fact, we pretty much jumped in head first.

Here’s a picture of us on one of our first dates.

anniversary1

We went from “single and hurting over a past relationship,” to “in a new relationship” in the drop of a hat.

And boy was that a BAD idea.

After about a week of that, it fizzled.  Ok, I’m lying.  It didn’t fizzle.  He got scared and ran.  I was hurt, but at the same time, not surprised.  Deep down, I knew he wasn’t ready, and frankly, neither was I.  Oh well.  No harm done, right?  Move along.

But darn it.

There was just something about that guy.

I went on to get involved with Oliver at the theatre.  My daughter decided to get involved with the theatre for the first time and was cast as one of the orphan boys, along with Richard’s son, Riley.  I spent a lot of one-on-one time with the kids and ended up being crazy about Riley.  And so was my daughter.  They became fast friends.  Soon after, Riley’s little sister Lauren joined the cast and we became just as close to her.  It was so hard not to adore his kids.  But what a strange situation.  I date this guy temporarily, he disappears from my life, and suddenly, I find myself falling in love with his kids when he was nowhere around.  Weird.

So, eventually, as showtime neared, Richard started spending some time at the theatre as well.  We were both new runners, so we kept to the safe subject of running and avoided any mention of having dated before.  Eventually, the talks of running turned into talks about the kids.  And talks about the theatre.  And talks about his music.  And finally, hesitantly, to talks about why the two of us hadn’t worked out.  He finally told me his story of his past relationship and how he had jumped the gun in moving on.  I told him my past stories as well and eventually…well, I don’t know.  We became friends.  Really good friends.  I decided maybe this is what had been fated all along.  Maybe we weren’t meant to be a couple, per se.  We had so much in common – kids in the theatre, being performers ourselves, being new runners, both of our professions being the real estate field.  Yes, he was quiet and I was loud.  But that didn’t matter – we had enough in common to make us drawn to each other.  I was just going to have to accept that it was to be in a “friends” aspect and not in the romance department.

Psssh.

Yeah, I could tell myself that crap all day long.  But then I’d pass him backstage in the dark wings and my heart would flutter.  I knew I couldn’t just be his friend.  I knew it.  But I had to do what I had to do.  I wanted this man in my life and I was just going to have to accept that I didn’t get to choose the specific role he played.

And then…well, something changed.

I got stung by a bee.

No, really.  I got stung by a bee and the whole dynamic of who we were changed.  (I’m not sure if he’d tell this story the same way I am, but after reading this, I think he’ll see it for what it was too.)

The show had ended and our “required” time together had passed by.  There were no longer circumstances that would put us in the same place at the same time.  We continued texting and talking, and even had a “friendly” dinner together one evening.  But that whole “couple” thing was still just not happening.

Cue the bee sting.

The weekend before Independence Day, we were doing separate things – he was off with friends and I was at the pool with my kids.  While packing our things to leave the pool, I got stung on the back.  I didn’t think much of it (other than the passing thought that I couldn’t remember having been stung by a bee since I was a small child, if even then) and we went on about our business.  But as we were getting in the car, I realized  that something was wrong.  My throat started closing up and I began to get welts all over me.  I was having an allergic reaction.  Here I was, the only adult out with two kids and I wasn’t exactly sure what to do.  I was still able to drive to the gas station nearby, and I had my son go in and buy me some Benadryl.  Eventually, the symptoms passed somewhat and I was able to drive home.  All in all, it was a pretty scary situation.  But I got through it and just realized that I better carry Benadryl with me from then on.  Apparently I’m allergic to bees.  Who knew?

So, later that night, Richard texts and asks about my day.  I tell him about the bee scenario and he responds, “Why didn’t you call me?”

Huh?

Why didn’t I call him?  Why would I have called him?  What did it have to do with him?

And then, it dawned on me.  I wondered if he was starting to see me in that way.  In the, “I’m the one she should call when she needs someone” way.  And the next day, I got my answer.  He asked me to come over.  And I did.  That’s when he told me that this weekend had felt different.  That at one point, he realized that he missed me.

That we should have been together.

And there you have it.  That was July 1.  So, we decided we’d use that day as the day we became “official.”

I wish I could tell you that it was happily ever after from that day forward.  But it wasn’t.  We still had some issues to overcome.  We still had some annoying little “past” pests to swat away at times.  Even let it break us up once for a while.  (And you know what put us back together?  Yet again – the theatre.  I was cast as his son’s mom in a production.  So, as much as we wanted to be apart, life wouldn’t let us.  Thank goodness for the theatre.)

So, yes, there have been some tough times, but we’ve managed.  We just keep finding our way back somehow.

See, that’s the thing about something that’s meant to be.  No matter how much you try to fight it, it always manages to happen anyway.  In spite of you.

So, no.  The first year of our story hasn’t been the typical fairy tale.  (And really, whose love story is?)  We’ve seen each other through the good and bad, through the best and worst of our personalities.  By starting out as friends, we came to know each other in a different way than we would have if we had continued dating from the beginning.  We told each other the truth.  We exposed the “ugly” underneath and, lo and behold, we’re still here.

We’re still here.

Warts and all.

anniversary3

I love this man with all of my heart.  And I know, without a doubt, that he loves me too.

And I can guarantee you that I’ll be here blogging on July 1, 2014, about all that happened in Year #2.

Because when you know, you just know.

Happy Anniversary, sweetheart.

***

“If you meet somebody and they love you when you are your true, awful, not-ready-yet, boring, not cool enough, not handsome enough, not pretty enough, too fat, too poor self?  And if you love them back so much that it makes you calm? And they have flaws and you do not mind a single one of them?….If you found that, you found it.”
– Augusten Burroughs

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26

Jun. ’13

Tomorrow

Well, it’s here!

annie2

Tomorrow night is finally opening night for ANNIE!  And I couldn’t let this day go by without a blog shout-out to my daughter, Kelly.  Tomorrow night, she will walk out onto a stage in front of a room full of people and say her first spoken line in a show ever.

Her first spoken line.  And she’s Annie!

I am blown away by the transformation I’ve seen in my little girl over the past few months of Annie rehearsals.  This is the girl who only showed up for auditions in hopes of possibly being one of the orphans (hopefully with no spoken lines), or maybe even just to help backstage like she has done in a few shows in the past.  When she was cast as Annie, she was almost in tears.  And not the happy kind either.  I’m talking more along the lines of the “Oh-my-gosh-what-have-I-gotten-myself-into-help-momma-get-me-out-of-this” kind.

And I’ll be honest with you.  I wasn’t so sure she could do it either.

Now, don’t get me wrong – I absolutely knew she was capable of it.  The girl has got a beautiful singing voice and can dance like nobody’s business.  And she looks the part, without a doubt.  But to have the courage to get up in front of all of these people and act?  I just wasn’t so sure.  She’s always been a “behind the scenes” kind of kid when it came to theatre.  I was the actor and she was the kid who would tag along with her mom to watch.

I remember taking her to her first professional theatre show (which was Annie, no less – at Barter Theatre in Abingdon, Virginia).  At one point, after being mesmerized myself by the phenomenal performance taking place in front of me, I glanced over to see Kelly’s reaction to the show.  And what was she doing?  The little thing was turned around backwards in her seat staring up at the lighting booth and the spotlight operator.  She was so much more interested in how they were making the show, rather than the show itself.  Yep, she loved theatre – but in a much different way than her momma did.  She wasn’t just interested in the acting.  She fell in love with the process.

And now here she is – the lead role in the summer musical.

It still seems so surreal to me.  It has been amazing watching her come out of her shell.  She didn’t just peep her head out from the shadows to see what was happening on the stage.  She made a huge, flying leap right into the spotlight.  And let me tell you – this is where she belongs.  And I think she’s starting to see that too.  All she needed was a little confidence.

And this brings me to the point I’m really trying to make with all of this.

print3I’m so incredibly proud of my daughter.  I mean, what mom wouldn’t be?  But that pride doesn’t come from the fact that she’s Annie.  Yes, she has learned to control her beautiful voice and sing songs that she thought she couldn’t manage just a few short months ago.  Yes, she has studied hard and learned her lines and rarely misses a beat.  Yes, she has done all of the things that make her a great little actress and has come a very long way since that scared little girl was given the news that she was going to be Annie.  But none of that is what makes me the most proud.

What makes me the most proud is watching as her confidence and ability soars to new heights, and yet her ego and humility have not budged.

She is the most gracious, most appreciative kid I think I’ve ever seen.  She takes compliments from people with a shy sweetness that does not indicate one little ounce of arrogance.  She sent out a mass email to the cast and crew last night thanking everyone for their hard work – from the make-up ladies to the costume maker and everyone in between.  She has learned first hand how much work it takes to create something this spectacular, and she appreciates each and every minute detail that has been put into making the show a success.  That’s something a lot of actors never take the time to see.  (I know I’ve been guilty of it myself at times.  Too often, actually.)

To excel at something, even attain a bit of greatness at it, and yet still maintain a humble heart?  That is something that is very hard to do.  It takes a special kind of person for that.  I think we could all learn a lesson or two from my little Annie.

And, in closing, I want to mention one more proud momma moment.

I too am in the show.  And last night – our second-to-last dress rehearsal before opening night – I felt completely miserable.  What is probably an ear and sinus infection (who has time or money to go to the doctor?) hit its peak last night and my body refused to cooperate any further.  For the first time in my career as an actor, I had to miss a dress rehearsal.  I couldn’t leave, of course, since I was little Annie’s ride home – so someone suggested that I go lie down on a couch in the lobby.  So, I did.  I took my feverish self to the lobby and crashed.  And no sooner did I lie down, than I was out like a light.  I only woke up about three times during the entire performance.  And you know why?

Once was when Kelly was bringing me a drink of water.

Another time was when she brought a blanket she found in the dressing room to put over me.

And the final time was when she came to tell me the show was over and that it was time to go home.

There she was in one of her final dress performances in her first starring role, and yet she took every down moment she had between her many costume changes and stage appearances, to come check on her sick mom.

Have I mentioned how proud I am of my daughter?  I want to be just like her when I grow up.

I know every mom is supposed to brag on our kids.  It’s our job.  But in my case?  In my case, I’ve got someone pretty special here that calls me Mommy.  She is definitely a star – on and off the stage.

So, break a leg, sweet girl!  It’s your turn to shine.

***

“It must have been cold there in my shadow
To never have sunlight on your face
You were content to let me shine, that’s your way
You always walked a step behind
So I was the one with all the glory,
while you were the one with all the strength.
A beautiful face without a name for so long.
A beautiful smile to hide the pain
Did you ever know that you’re my hero?
You’re everything I wish I could be
I can fly higher than an eagle
Because you are the wind beneath my wings.”
– Bette Midler, Wind Beneath My Wings

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25

Jun. ’13

Writing Pays Off

So, Friday, June 21, 2013, I received my first-ever award for writing.  I won first place in the essay division of the Chautauqua Creative Writing Festival in Wytheville, Virginia.  Here is a picture of me with the guest speakers at the event, authors Mary Lin Brewer and Rosa Lee Jude.  (They are co-authors for a new historical fiction book series entitled The Legends of Graham Mansion.)  My sweet boyfriend Richard who came along took this picture for us.  I’m shown with the certificate that was presented to me for my “meritorious writing abilities.”  It really says that right there on the certificate.

Meritorious writing abilities.

Awesome.

award

But you know what’s even more awesome?  Here’s the picture I really wanted to take while I was there, but was too chicken and decided to wait for a more tactful setting.  Safe at home.

checkpic

Cha-ching!

Oh yeah, baby.  That’s a check.  A real live check for my writing.  MY WRITING.  A check.  Holy cow!

It’s such an awesome feeling to get a check for doing something that you just love to do for fun.  I think back to the day I wrote the particular entry that won this contest, and I am blown away that that feeling of insecurity that overcame me at the time managed to lead to such an awesome thing.  Isn’t that crazy?

There I was, sitting in the middle of an uncomfortable “woe is me” situation, and then fast forward a few months and I’m holding a check in my hand because of it.  Interesting.

Kind of makes you think a little, doesn’t it?

Who’s to say that whatever crap you’re dealing with right now at this very moment isn’t going to lead to something as awesome as that?  It’s worth considering, wouldn’t you say?

Hang in there.  It all happens for a reason, my friends.

***

“Everything happens for a reason.  That reason causes change.  Sometimes the change hurts.  Sometimes the change is hard.  But in the end, it’s all for the best.”
– Rita Ghatourey

Links if you’re interested:

Entry that won the contest: https://missyspublicjunk.wordpress.com/2013/04/11/fully-dressed/

Info on the Legends of Graham Mansion as referenced above: http://www.legendsofgrahammansion.com/

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19

Jun. ’13

Here and Now

“Yes, sometimes it’s tempting to think of what could’ve been. But what you really need to think of is what ‘would’ve‘ been. And that’s when you realize you’re exactly where you need to be.”
– Richard Edmondson

For those of you who are my Facebook friends, you probably already saw this quote that I posted over the weekend.  These words were spoken by my boyfriend, Richard.  As soon as I heard them, I knew they were quotable.  And as soon as I quoted him, I knew there was a blog here waiting to happen.

So, I sat down at a computer and I started to write.  I typed the quote at the top of the page and then….well.  Nothing happened.  Nothing.  Not one single sentence popped into my mind.  So much wisdom and meaning lying behind those words he said, and yet I – the one who can type for days about any given subject at any given time – can’t think of a single thing to say?  Not one more thing to add?  What’s up with that?

Hmmm.  Maybe the quote is so profound that it stands alone on its own.

Yep.  I think that’s it.

What else needs to be said really?

I mean, think about it.  How much of what you think you miss about something – whether it be a relationship from the past, an old home or an old job, a lost friendship, whatever the case may be – how much of that is actual memories and not just what you hoped it would become?  I’m betting not too much of it is real.  Be honest with yourself.  Take that thing that you can’t let go of and examine it through honest eyes for a minute.  Would it really be gone if it was as great as you thought it was?

Yes, it could’ve been great.  But would it have been?

Richard and I are not young.  We both had quite a few failed relationships in our past before we ever laid eyes on each other.  We have mountains of memories behind us, and each of us has our own share of regret that we carry along into this relationship from the ones prior.  Sometimes the past sneaks up on us and taps us on the shoulder.  It’s inevitable.  It happens.  It happens to us, and it’s going to happen to you.  It’s just how life works.  The key is knowing what to do when it happens.

Do you let it cause insecurities and chip away at your present situation?  Do you let it cause you doubt and make you second-guess your choices?  Do you let the fantasy steal the reality?

Or…?

Or do you do what my Richard does? Do you take a long, slow look around, see the beauty and the blessing in everything that your path has led you to, and wish the past a silent, thoughtful, heartfelt goodbye as you grab on tight to what you have now, safe in the knowledge that you’re exactly where you are meant to be?

I don’t know about you, but that second choice sure sounds a whole lot better to me.

usaww

This is what it’s all about.  This is where we belong.  Not in all of the many yesterdays before us, and not in the vast span of tomorrows to come.  But right here.  Right now.  Right where we were meant to be.

Thanks for the reminder, sweetheart.

***

“I thought about one of my favorite Sufi poems, which says that God long ago drew a circle in the sand exactly around the spot where you are standing right now.  I was never not coming here.  This was never not going to happen.”
– Elizabeth Gilbert

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18

Jun. ’13

Help!

“A healthier way of thinking and acting is to allow yourself to receive the help and love you need.  You weren’t designed to live alone.  You have limitations on your strength and abilities.”
– Michael Barbarulo

As some of you know from my previous posts, I have just spent the past month or so in the moving process.  What a hassle that was (and still is).  Now, granted, I did most of it myself – the packing, the address changes, the phone/tv switches, etc. – but when it came time to actually move…well, my weak little arms can’t carry beds and bookshelves and curio cabinets and whatnot.  So, I had to do something that tends to be a little difficult for me.  I had to ask for help.  Seems simple enough, right?  People need help moving all the time.  No biggie.

*Sigh*

Oh my lordy, does this chick hate to ask for help.

It has been that way ever since I was a little girl.  I have always been so incredibly determined to do things myself.  One of my favorite stories to hear about my childhood is the one my grandmother tells about my first big acting debut.  I was a whole three years old and was getting ready to go onstage for my one big line in the church play.  (The line that I had begged to be given, by the way. I insisted that I was big enough to have a speaking part, so they conceded and let me have my way.)  So, as part of the last-minute coaching my nervous grandmother was giving me just before the show, I was told to look to the left and Miss So-and-so (the name escapes me) would be standing in the wings to whisper my line to me if I forgot it.  My grandma says that, upon hearing this, I stood up straight in all my three-year-old glory, put my little hand on my hip, and, filled with shock that the woman would have the nerve even suggest such a thing, I calmly and proudly announced to her and all who would listen:

“If I forget my line, I’ll tell myself.”

Ha!  Oh, how I love that story.  What spunk!  What confidence!

What a brat.

Well, I’m here to tell ya – not much has changed.  Not much at all.  Why I insist on being so full of myself, I’ll never know.

So, fast forward about 32 years, and here I was getting ready to move.  Again.  And as much as I’d have liked to have thrown my little hand on my hip and announced to the world that I didn’t need anyone’s help…sadly, that was not the case.  So, in come my boyfriend and dad to save the day.

helpblogpic

Awww.  Aren’t they just too cute?

I’m beyond grateful for their help, but it really has made me wonder why I have such trouble accepting it.  Is it that I really am ‘full of myself’ like I mentioned earlier?  Do I feel like there’s no need to bring in help because, in all my big-headedness, I think no one can do it like I can?  Is it the whole “if you want the job done right, do it yourself” mentality?

I don’t know.  Maybe.

But I don’t think that’s really it.  Not at all actually.

Maybe to that little three-year-old, that’s what it was.  But to this thirty-something-year-old?  To her, it’s a little deeper than that.

It’s the fear of being a burden.

I absolutely hate to think that I’m causing someone trouble.  That I’m taking time out of their life for something when they could be using that time for more important things.  That, because of me, they were inconvenienced.  It’s hard to break that mindset.  It’s hard to not just go ahead and do things yourself rather than accepting the help that you need.  And because of this, I end up being overwhelmed at times.  I take on too many projects – too many tasks – because I won’t just ask someone to pitch in.  And that’s silly really.  And you know why that’s silly?

Here’s why.

In the midst of the move, and of this whole mindset that I had going on, I mentioned to my boyfriend Richard that I was sorry to have to ask him to help.  His response?  “Sorry?  Why are you sorry?  I want to do this.  I’m a helper.”

I’m a helper.

Hmmm. Have I ever really stopped to think about that?  Has it ever once occurred to me that people actually like helping?  That it makes them feel good?  I feel good when I’m helping someone – why should I be the one to stand in the way of allowing someone else to have that feeling?  To help someone is to show them that you care.  That you love them.

Uh oh.  I think I’m onto something here.  Because you know what that means?

To accept help is to accept love.

Well, how about that.  Maybe that’s the problem I’ve had all along?  Maybe accepting love is a little scary?  Yep.  I think that’s probably it.

helpblog

Yep.  It sure is.

So, are you like me?  I’m willing to bet you are.  I think most of us are like that to an extent.  Well, you know what?  Stop it.  Be brave.  Next time someone offers to help you – let them.  Really.  Get that little hand off of that hip, and accept the gift they are wanting to give you.  You know?  Let go.  Give them the opportunity to do what they want to do for you.  Let yourself accept help.

Let yourself accept love.

***

“Make someone happy,
Make just one someone happy,
And you will be happy, too.”
– Jimmy Durante, “Make Someone Happy” lyrics
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14

Jun. ’13

Writing Scared

writing

A few months ago, I decided to enter a writing contest.  It was my first ever.  At the time, I was unsure which of my writings to enter, but I knew I wanted it to be one of the blog entries I had written since starting this public blog in February.  So, I put out a “feeler” on Facebook.  I got a lot of replies (thank you if you were one of them!), and it ended up being a resounding vote for an entry I wrote entitled “Scars.”  (See link below.  I’ll post links to each of the blogs I mention at the end of this article if you’d like to check them out.)

Now, I like “Scars,” too.  It’s personal.  It’s about overcoming the bad times and coming out victorious in the end.  What’s not to like about that concept, right?  It’s one of those “feel-good” pieces that I like to write sometimes.  I hope they help others, and sometimes I even go back and read them to help myself too.  I think those kinds of writings are important.  A vast majority of people could probably relate, so I thought I might have a good chance of appealing to what I assumed were probably “scarred” judges overseeing the contest.

So, “Scars” it was.

I had it all printed out and ready to send in to the contest.  Even had it in the envelope and sealed.  Very first writing contest, here I come.

And then, at the last minute, I did what I’m best known for in my life.

I changed my mind.

Just before mailing it out, I made what I assumed would end up being a bad judgment call on my part.  I pulled “Scars” out of the envelope, and I replaced it with “Fully Dressed.”

“Fully Dressed” is something I struggled with writing.  In it, I basically shine a spotlight on my insecurities.  One insecurity in particular.  And do you have any idea how hard that is to do?  I mean, it’s hard to admit your insecurities even to yourself, but to broadcast them to the public??  I’m always nervous just before I hit the little “Publish” button on my blog page, but I remember that one vividly.  It was a special kind of nervous.  My hands were shaking and I felt like I was going to be sick.

Now, reading it, you might not see all of that.  You might not think it’s all that big of a deal at all.  But trust me, to me it was.  I was verbalizing something that I don’t like to let show.  I was admitting a fault in myself.  Admitting that I let something get to me.  Really get to me.  And through the writing, I managed to process those feelings, and come to something that resembled a conclusion.  The thoughts I had about the issue flowed through my fingers in a way that I didn’t even know they could.  Suddenly, as I wrote, I started to stand up to myself.  I defended myself, to myself. 

And that felt good.

Remembering all those emotions that flowed through me as I wrote and posted that entry, I decided to take a deep breath and send my writing even further out in the world.  I entered it into the contest, hoping that maybe someone somewhere might see herself in my writing and know that she isn’t the only one who has ever felt that way.  Would it win?  Eh, probably not.  But the courage it took to send it was gratification enough.

So.  Fast forward to yesterday.

I got home last night and checked my mail.  Inside was an envelope from the writing committee overseeing the contest.

“Dear Melissa,

Congratulations! I am pleased to inform you that your entry entitled “Fully Dressed” in the Creative Writing Contest of the 2013 Wytheville Chautauqua Festival has won First Place in the Adult Essay category…”

Wow.  Just wow.

It went on to give specifics about the date and time of the awards ceremony and explained that I am to read the entry in front of all who attend(Yikes!), and asked me to provide a brief biography about who I am and why I like to write.

Why I like to write?  Well, that’s easy.

This.

This is why.

Not because I get an award.  Not because I get recognition.  Not because I get to get in front of a room full of people and read my winning piece out loud.  (Oh no, definitely not because of that – just the thought terrifies me!)  No, it’s not for any of those reasons.

It’s because someone somewhere understood.

Someone gets it.

Someone gets me.

***

“Writing is painting your deepest thoughts, fears, insecurities, sadness, happiness, and everything else in between, onto a canvas of words – and then, turning it around to face the world, hoping someone sees that canvas as a mirror.”
– Melissa Caudill

***

Referenced Blog Links

Scars:  https://missyspublicjunk.wordpress.com/2013/03/08/scars/

Fully Dressed: https://missyspublicjunk.wordpress.com/2013/04/11/fully-dressed/

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06

Jun. ’13

Uncertainty

uncertainty blog2

Well, crap.  John Finley, you just ruined my day.

Because you know what I hate?  What I despise?  What I loathe?

Uncertainty.

Holy cow, do I detest uncertainty.  I want to know exactly what is going to happen, when it’s going to happen, how it’s going to happen, and how everyone is going to feel when it happens.  This ‘not knowing’ crap is for the birds.

So, with that being the case – I’m sure you can guess that I don’t handle change very well.  Especially unexpected change.  (Well, that seems kind of redundant.  I guess most all change is unexpected really, isn’t it?)  So, Mr. Finley, with your fancy schmancy quote – I guess I’m immature.

So, here we go.  I’m going to throw caution to the wind and blog about something kind of personal here.  I think it’s important to do that sometimes so that you, my reader, can know that I’m just as crazy as you are.  Yes, I just called you crazy.  I know you’re crazy.  Know how I know?  Two reasons.  1) You’re reading this blog.  And 2) EVERYONE is crazy.  And you’re one of everyone.  So there.

So, fellow crazy person, I’m gonna spill my guts to you.

My relationship is going through another rocky patch.  Hey, it happens.  And I’m going to go ahead and own up to the blame in this one.  Hands down, I admit it.  It’s all me.  But, for the life of me, I just don’t know what to do about it.

My boyfriend just took a second job as a bartender.  I’m going to list the obvious reasons why this worries me first.

  1. Timing.  He’s going to work nights/I’m going to work days (ok, he’s doing both actually).  I’m going to work weekdays/He’s going to work weekends (Again: both for him).  *Sigh*
  2. His life is going to change.  He’s going to be surrounded by tons of new people.  Tons of people that will be there with him when I won’t.  *Sigh*
  3. My life is going to change.  A lot of the time that I had worked into my schedule to spend with him will now be time spent alone.  *Sigh*
  4. He’s a bartender.  A bartender.  I know life is not always like the stereotypes, but Hello?  Being a bartender is sexy.  We all know that.  I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m a little jealous.  Well, jealous isn’t really the right word here.  I think insecure is more like it.  That life is not my life.  But it’s now going to be his.  And it’s going to be the life of the people he’s going to be spending his time with.  We may not have anything in common anymore.  (Have I sighed yet?  If not….*sigh*)
  5. There won’t be time for me anymore.

I could stop here.  That’s a pretty good list and probably doesn’t need anything added to it.  That’s enough to prove my point, right?  You get it?  Understand my worries?  Yep, I could stop here.  Enough said.  I should stop here.

But stopping here would be a lie.  And I don’t do the lying thing very well.

The #1 reason I’m worried isn’t even on that list.

Most people know how to keep their mouths shut and just let things silently hurt them.  But I’m not most people.  Until I have faced and dealt with a problem head on, it won’t go away.  I have to say it out loud.  I have to address it.  When someone has hurt me, I have to approach them and deal with it.  I can’t run from it, it’s just not in my DNA.  I go to them, we talk it out, and then we go our separate ways.  Sometimes healed, sometimes not.  But either way, it’s addressed and I can have peace.

But this time is different.

This time I don’t know who hurt me.  I just know that someone did.

Someone who is involved in my boyfriend’s close-knit group of friends blatantly excluded me a while back.  I won’t get into the specifics of how it happened (they know, and I know – that’s all that matters), but it happened.  And it hasn’t been forgotten.  This close-knit group of friends are always together, and are always at the place my boyfriend is working.  He adores them, and I don’t blame him.  They’re great people.  They’re fun-loving, they live life to the fullest, they’re great conversationalists.  But one of them (maybe more?) doesn’t like me.  And until I know who the one person was, it’s hard to fully let my guard down with any of them.  Does that make sense?  Until I know who not to trust, I can’t trust anyone.  This is a tough situation for our relationship.  Very tough.  For both of us.  And now a big fat spotlight is being shone on it.

So, what it all boils down to is this – I feel excluded.  I have always felt excluded, but with Richard by my side, I was able to temporarily forget it at times.  I knew I belonged with him, and that’s all that matters.  But now?  Now, he’s surrounded by that life that someone doesn’t want me in, and I’m not there.  I’m standing outside of an invisible wall that I can’t seem to break down.

And his taking this job?  Well, in my mind, the wall just got bigger.

I feel the pressure building.  I feel the tension piling up and I’m not sure how to escape it.  In the back of my mind, I keep hearing the faint ‘tick tick tick…’ of an impending explosion.  And frankly, that sound is getting pretty darn annoying.

I’m getting pretty annoying.

“Every day I fight a war against the mirror
I can’t take the person starin’ back at me
I’m a hazard to myself
Don’t let me get me
I’m my own worst enemy
It’s bad when you annoy yourself…”

*sigh*  Pink gets it.

Maybe that’s why I feel the need to write this blog.  Maybe I’m looking for suggestions?  Maybe I’m looking for help?  Maybe I just don’t want to watch something fade away if there was something I could do about it and just didn’t know what it was.  Maybe I just want to know I’m not alone in how I feel?  That people understand?  Sympathize?  That there are more people like me and Pink out here in this world?

Or maybe I just need to hear that I’m selfish and insecure and need to get over myself.  Yeah, that’s a possibility too, I suppose.

Maybe I just needed to vent.

All I know is that I have watched a friend of mine go through a very similar situation over the past ten months in her relationship (daytime job versus nighttime job – different lives, different friends, etc.), and I’m now watching as she adjusts to her new life as a single woman because it didn’t work out.

I don’t want that to be me.  But what do I do?

***

“The one permanent emotion of the inferior man is fear – fear of the unknown, the complex, the inexplicable. What he wants above everything else is safety.”
– H. L. Mencken

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