The many sides of me

It’s been a good day. Nothing spectacular but just the kind of day I would like to see my life evolving into.

Got up this morning, got a bunch of work done, crashed on the couch, then got into production mode. Did a ton of Cinderella emails, work, etc. Then had a well-deserved nap. Went to dinner with a bunch of Bears at my friend, David’s, house and it was just lovely to hang out with these guys and, oh, yeah, the other token hag, Tracy B. Watched Project Runway the best way possible – in a room full of gay men.

I’ve already begun to really appreciate the art on my wrist. I look at it constantly and it reminds me of what I want and why I changed my life, which is exactly what I had hoped it would do. I also feel so much now that it is a part of me. I kind of scoffed earlier at the power of putting these images onto my body but, after several responses chiding me about that denial, I really feel like there is a power coming from the simple combination of ink, desire, and skin. I think I give it that power, as it is with any kind of talisman. If it was just art for the sake of having something cool there, the images wouldn’t have any power at all. But because of their meaning and my desire for them to represent something, I think they can be very powerful.

The interesting thing on this adventure is learning how to be me. There are so many versions of me out there and it’s hard to reconcile all of them into one good, solid Susan. Looking around the room tonight, I realized how hard it is to reconcile the many “me’s”. I have been called difficult, wonderful, brilliant, fearless, weak, powerful, inspiring, frustrating, and so many other things, some of which I agree with, some of which I don’t.

I am my mother’s daughter, which means I’m 10 for the rest of my life. I’m the odd child that she doesn’t quite understand but loves without condition. I inherited her looks but my father’s soul. But what startled me this weekend is what my mother called me. I was showing some jewelry to the coordinator at the production studio for Inked and the coordinator was oohing and aahing over the jewelry and the journals and I made a little joke about doing tons of stuff. Then my mother said something which took my breath away – “she’s an artist.” She didn’t say it in a condescending way or with a roll of the eyes that we all have experienced, those of us in the creative fields. She meant just that. For the second time in my life, I realized that my mother appreciates my artistic life and understands that I have a gift to create. It may frustrate her that I cannot make a living doing it but she understands that I am driven to do it. It staggered me to hear her call me an artist and it was the biggest compliment I have ever received from her.

I am a little sister, mostly when it pertains to my sister, Cindy. It’s always been hard for me to be in that position. I was in awe of my sister growing up. She was an incredibly talented athlete, so graceful, so gifted. Driven didn’t – and still doesn’t – even begin to describe her. Great student. Great athlete. Impossible footsteps to follow in. I am eternally seven when I think of my sister. She made me want to be more just to be in the same family with her. She makes me angry, frightened, inspired, tormented, elated, grateful and about a zillion other things. I want to be better at everything because of her.

I am a twice divorced woman in her 40’s. That’s hard to define. I don’t know what that means. I guess it means I am confused, fragile, struggling, overwhelmed, terrified. I feel ugly and old and so out of fashion. I am damaged goods that no one will ever want to be with again. But I also feel that I am strong in that I chose not to stay in a relationship that was wholly unsatisfying and maybe a little abusive. I chose to leave to be my own person instead of living in the shadow of someone who was smothering me. I am cautious and concerned about being with someone new because I don’t want this to happen again.

I am a director/producer/writer – multi-slasher, as I heard someone say. I can do it all and do it well. I live for details although I allow the details to overwhelm occasionally. I love the way I feel when I am directing. I love to wear those shoes. There is the confident, powerful, certain woman I want to be more often. I don’t second guess myself very often yet I am open to what others want to contribute. I am confident in my creative choices and my vision yet I am grateful to those who want to help me grow in a supportive, positive way. I feel solid and strong in this version of me, the way I am seeking to feel in the rest of my life. Yet this has always come easily for me and I have a hard time accepting when people tell me I do it well. It’s in my blood so I don’t see it as something I do well or not, it’s just something I do.

I am a friend. I love my friends dearly and devotedly, whether I’ve known them forever, as with my dearest Chairman or just discovered them, as with Monica. I demand a lot of my friendships but I expect to give just as much back. I am beginning to learn to be more open and vulnerable with my friends and let them really see me in all my glory, good and bad. It’s always been hard for me to share the “bad” side of me with any but my closest friends as I always felt that made me appear weak and vulnerable and open to being hurt. But without being open to being hurt, I am not open to being loved. It’s funny, but with my most beloved friends, I feel that I am fragile and delicate and breakable and that frightens me. But then there are so many times with them that I feel I am beginning to discover my strength and my power because their love and support are there to catch me when I fall flat on my face. I am getting less and less afraid of falling and more sure of my footing because of these amazing, incredible, beautiful friends.

Now I am searching to find a way to blend all of these pieces of me into something solid – the daughter, the sister, the divorcee, the slasher, the friend. Put everything in a blender so that these divisions are blurred, that the divorcee and the slasher both are strong and vulnerable, that the friend and the sister are devoted and open, that the daughter and the divorcee are childlike and grown up. It’s a difficult thing to do but I feel like I am making baby steps to this coalescence that will make me come out of this mid-life adventure whole, whatever that means.

I thought today would be harder.

I had planned to hibernate, keep away from people, maybe go to the beach and contemplate what in my life brought me here. I had planned to be morose, sullen, depressed and feeling basically like shit for where my life is.

Didn't happen.

I woke up this morning after sleeping in - well, until 9:30, if you call that sleeping in - and the first thing I saw was the Sanskrit that is now a part of my left wrist. And I smiled. I turned my wrist over and studied my destiny. I got out of bed, deciding to forego the beach. I just decided to enjoy the day as it all of a sudden felt like the most beautiful day I had seen in a long time.

I realize that I am done mourning my life. As I went through all the questions yesterday while being inked, I found myself talking more and more about beginning my life. So much of this isn't about ending, it's about beginning. And I know Ive been saying that but as I heard myself say it over and over again yesterday, it became real.

I've been mourning the end of this relationship for almost two years, long before it was really dead but was making its way towards its end. Ive been moving towards a beginning but had to put the end behind me first. These past few weeks have been that process the end of the end.

Watching the ink penetrate my skin made that beginning real and visceral and literal. I can no longer look back at the last six months and question whether it was right or wrong. It is. That's it. I can no longer look at the past 16 years and try to place blame of what happened and who did what and why. It was. I can gain knowledge from my pain and glean information of how to not repeat the mistakes that have been around for a very long time but I don't have to live there anymore.

The more formed the tattoo became yesterday, the more overwhelmed I became on where my life is and where it will be. I felt like I was watching my future truly become solid right in front of my eyes. Each piece of the Sanskrit that emerged felt like a step out of the past and into the next 30 years. I was manifesting my choice and my life into my skin and making it a literal part of me.

Everything that I had anticipated that I would think and feel and experience today happened in a millisecond yesterday. When Joey wiped away the pools of ink and smears of tracing paper and the chant became whole and I saw how incredibly beautiful it was, all the emotions I had been holding back, all the fear of my choices and my new life and where I am going and what I am doing flooded through me in an instant and then were gone. Then when he finished with destiny and cleared away the excess ink and tracing, I knew without a doubt that the next 30 years will be the adventure that I want.

I'd like to think that by actually making the chant and the destiny part of my physical being that this will somehow manifest the enlightenment and guidance and true destiny into my life. That the ink will mix with my blood and create this spiritual chemistry that will imbibe my soul with the blessings of the gods and make me who I am supposed to be.

In reality, I know that this is crap but it's a nice idea. I know it's up to me to find that guidance by listening to those I trust around me. It is up to me to seek and embrace the enlightenment I find through working with my therapist and listening to my friends as they encourage and participate with me in my discovery and, most importantly, listen to myself as I make my way through this. It's up to me to chase down that destiny and make sure that it manifests itself and get out of my own way in that pursuit. It is up to me to recognize the blessings that the gods put in front of me and bring those blessings into my life without question, manipulation or doubt. True acceptance of all that I ask for is in my own wrinkled, dried out, tired and achy hands. And these simple, elegant, graceful markings just above these hands will serve to remind me to open those hands to receive what I ask for.

My wondrous, amazing life...

I am deeply awed and overwhelmed by the simple profundity in my life. Today was surreal and amazing and emotional and incredible. And probably about 20 other things.

I wanted a tattoo. Simple request. Actually, it turned out to be two tattoos. A talisman to remind me of the blessings in my life and to remind me why I have made such drastic changes in my life. I asked plenty of advice, I got plenty of support, I thought it over carefully and, of course, ended up getting it on reality TV.

I planned the trip for the tattoo. Simple trip. Vegas, baby. Mom, Zadra, me. Fun to be had. Tracey G. meeting us there because she was already there.

Hart & Huntington at the Palms.



Show up, do the interview, get the tattoo, drive home. Simple.

Zadra put it best - "you don't do anything simple."

The simple trip for the simple tattoo with the simple plan of a couple of close friends became deeply not simple when I was in the middle of it.

As Joey, my very gentle and darling tattoo artist, carefully worked on my art, I looked over my shoulder. Zadra, Tracey G., and Tracey's friend Lisa stood at the counter of Hart & Huntington, smiling at me, just about glowing with enthusiasm. I looked to my left and there sat my mom, a bit confused, I think, by the whole thing, but smiling and laughing and joking with Joey. And a simple tattoo became so much more.

It became everything I said it was going to be and so much more. I will remember this day for the rest of my life.

Those beautiful, smiling friends who were there simply because I asked them to be. In fact, Tracey almost demanded she be there before I could even ask her to be. The positive energy, the warmth and the love filled the room. The only thing that could have been better would have been for my dear Chairman to be there but I know he was there in spirit.

My incredible mother, sitting with me, just because I asked her to be. I can't even write about my amazing mother and what she and my father mean to me. Words cannot describe.

My tattoo artist, Joey.



Need I say more about Joey? Okay, I will. Gentle, sweet, charming, gorgeous. His attention to what I wanted and the care and thought he put into his work resulted in art that far exceeded what I had anticipated. He used three different inks and careful shaded in details, constantly referring to the pieces I brought to make sure he got it perfectly right.

And as I sat there, Joey gently working on my wrist, I became intensely aware of what all of this means.

This is truly the beginning of my life. This talisman will serve to remind me on those dark days that are sure to loom ahead that I have blessings, I have begun to search for true enlightenment, I am on a path to my destiny, whatever that will be. It will remind me of those smiling, gorgeous faces and the ones that weren't there but will be just as brilliant and lovely when I share today with them. It will remind me that my life is about me, not in a selfish way, but in a way that keeps me in the picture always and never let me lose myself again.

My talisman a little swollen, a little red and a little blotchy but soon to be beautiful.




There is so much more I want to say but don't have the words for yet. I am profoundly grateful for the grace and beauty that surrounds my life. I am profoundly humbled by those who grace my life - Zadra, Chairman, AJ, Peter, Tracey G., Erin, Damien, Mikee, Tiffany, Misha, Erik, and recent additions, Monica and Patty. And many others that surround my life. The grace that is my creative life at the Ark, the support, the guidance, the encouragement and the wonder that I have found there.

So much for a few lines of brown and red and yellow to hold and stand in for. So much for a couple of foreign symbols to represent. But so glad to have those lines and those symbols forever visible literally an arms length away, as are most of the most precious parts of my life.

The letting go...

This weekend is about letting go.

Letting go of the past, letting it fade into the distance and become memory.

Letting go of “what if’s” and such.

Letting go of my fear of loss, my fear of losing, my fear of being lost.

Letting go of heartaches and breaks and wounds that are therein.

Letting go of what I thought I wanted to find what I need.

Letting go of the boundaries I have inflicted upon myself.

Letting go of the anger at him, at me, at those left behind.

Letting go of the wheel, to try to let the universe drive for a change.

Letting go of control.

All of which is impossibly hard for me to do. I don’t like to let go. But I hope to discover some way to at least unclench the fingers this weekend and open the hand up a bit to allow that process to begin.

Growing...

I sit here, ruminating (what? me? ruminating?). I’ve actually written several things tonight to post. They all started out fairly clear and specific but then degenerated into misguided, philosophical ramblings that are way too personal and way too specific to actually be put up here, even with changing the names to protect the innocent.

So let me just say this, as disjointed and unconnected as it may seem…

I’m having an emotional growth spurt. So many emotions and thoughts and feelings have been surfacing lately that I need a scorecard. It’s hard and harsh and painful and difficult and challenging. Yet, with each pain, each emotion, each heartbreak, I feel the growth that comes with them. It’s hard to remember that when I feel so battered and bruised, but I cling to the thought that there is a new and improved me waiting on the other side of all of this crap. Or maybe a more complete me waiting there. Someone who doesn’t need someone else to validate or confirm them.

And I know I’m not the only one. Friends and strangers have shown me their growth spurts recently and it’s nice to have the company.

And I’m realizing that the more I look at the hard, difficult, painful corners of my life, the more I can let these go once they’ve been acknowledged. I hold too tightly to this pain because, for so long, pain was the only thing I could feel and I guess I just got used to that. Now that there is so much joy in my life, I still cling to the pain, but I’m finding it starting to be released little by little.

I’m finding more of myself in these dark corners and bringing some light to them. Sometimes, my soul seems to want to run from this light and hang out in the darkness, where the pain hides. It’s dark and dank but somehow comfortable in those dark recesses. And I’m trying to coax myself out of there more and more, lifting my face to the warmth of the light and embracing the clear air out here.

Okay, so I guess I’m just philosophical tonight no matter what I write. That seems to be where the blogging muse wants to take me and who am I to fight it?

I guess it comes down to this – I am taking baby steps from my old self on the way to finding the – I hesitate to say new -- more complete me. And I appreciate the hands held out to help steady me. I appreciate the eyes watching the progress and cheering from the sidelines. I hope to grow up soon, to banish the demons and the darkness, and be able to keep my face raised to the warmth in my life without fear of getting burned.

Anger...

I knew this week would have its challenges and issues but what I did not expect were the emotional hand grenades that have been going off in my face for the past two days.

What’s most surprising to me is how much anger is attached to these grenades. Anger at my ex, which I’ve never been all that great about expressing. Anger about the way he treated me in the last few years of our marriage, anger over how he disrespected me constantly as an artist, anger over how he ended our marriage, without a fight, without a word – well, actually with a few cruel words – when I never thought we would actually end it. Anger that he took that choice away from me, about whether or not I wanted to end it. I guess he had to so he could make it his choice, not mine.

I was never able to be angry with him when we were together. He had enough anger for the two of us put together plus our cats plus all of our friends. When I would get angry with him, he would always find a way to make me feel stupid about being angry and never allowed me that anger without finding a way to be more angry at me for being angry. Stupid, huh? Two grown adults trying to out-anger each other. That was at least the last five years of our marriage. No wonder I wanted to kill myself. I was so angry at myself for not fighting for myself, for not standing up to him, for not being able to tell him to stop being so cruel, so awful, so vicious. But I had no voice then. I had nothing to stand on. The foundation was quickly disappearing under my feet.

And suddenly, in the last 48 hours, all of that anger has surfaced and blinded me. It is so present and so real, I can almost give it a shape. It would be something out of a Stephen King novel, distorted, hunched over, covered in mud and shit and dirt and gravel. It would moan and wail, like a banshee. Because that’s what I wanted to do for so long – just wail.

And it’s what I want to do right now – wait in anger, wail in pain, wail in sorrow, wail in frustration. Just to let it out. Just to give it a voice. I need to give this anger a voice and an outlet so that it won’t lay dormant anymore, festering, waiting for the chance to blind me again. I need to find a way to embrace that anger and make it a part of me, find a way to allow it to come out in bits and pieces instead of hiding, waiting patiently for too many things to get piled up on top of it so that it gets buried underneath all the other things.

I need to make sure to never again allow anyone to keep that voice silent, to make me ashamed and afraid of my own anger. I need to make sure to be heard when I speak, and be clear when I speak. I need to make sure to never let anyone make me feel this way again. Because as much as I want to blame him for all the horrible ways I felt with him, I was there, too. I participated. I allowed him to have a playing field where he could run rampant and never suffer a consequence for what he did. That will never, ever happen again. I’d rather be alone the rest of my life and never be with anyone again than allow this to happen again.

So tonight, I’ll take the anger to bed with me, allow it some time to run free and just be. Hopefully, by following it, I can learn something about its nature and figure out how to make it a more solid part of me instead of something to be hidden in the closet, to learn how to embrace it and use it and make peace with it. And I’m sure over the next few days, it’s going to introduce me to many of its other friends I have been keeping hidden away and I hope I can embrace them as well.

Open wounds...

I always hesitate to post these blogs when the blackness comes but what the hell. Might as well share it with everyone in cyberspace.

There is a gaping empty space in me and I don’t know how to fill it. I keep trying. I have recently tried to fill it with a similar size and shape and comfortable alleged object of affection, only to discover that this would not do. Not only is it not fair to try to make someone fit in the place of someone else, it just doesn’t work. And the gaping space is still left there, the edges even more ragged because the fit wasn’t right and pieces were torn off when the object would not fit. And I’m afraid I’ve damaged the alleged object of affection irreparably in the process.

Tonight, that space is an open, ragged wound, aching and bleeding, refusing to let me rest. It’s actually been aching for a while and I mistook the aching for something else, which led to a head full of confusion. But I see what it is tonight – it is made up of grief and pain and anger and fear and sadness and so, so much more pain and anger and fear and on and on and on.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t going to be alone and empty at 43. I wasn’t supposed to be figuring my life out all over again, for the second or third or fourth time. But he couldn’t even give me the time to make that choice, he took even that choice away from me.

I don’t know how to fill this wound or at least staunch the blood. I keep wanting to find someone to staunch it for me but I know it’s up to me to figure that solution out. But for tonight, all I can do is let it bleed and let it weep and, hopefully, when I wake up tomorrow, there will be the beginnings of a scab over the wound. And maybe once this weekend is through and I get through Sunday, Monday may be easier, maybe the wound will be less achy and start to heal. Or maybe I’ll be here again in a week, bleeding and weeping and hopeless.

Thoughts and realizations...

Epiphanies come in the wee hours with me, it seems.

Realized the things I am not ready for and the things I am ready for.

First and foremost, I am not ready for another relationship. I want to be. I’ve tried to be. I’ve even projected the anticipated relationship on someone near and dear to my heart and pretty much have made an ass out of myself recently, which is not pretty. But, hopefully, nothing beyond repair other than the aforementioned ass-dom. For that ass-dom, I publicly apologize to that dear person and apologize to those I have put through listening to all my crap about this recently.

I think it’s as simple as I am lonely. I have been for a while. No new news there. I lived with someone for almost 16 years, fell asleep every night with his arm around me, was used to having that contact constantly. Even though I was done almost two years ago, the physical contact did not stop until it was clear we were at or near the end.

And until I am used to myself and being by myself, I am not going to be able to share myself with someone. That’s a hard thing for me to acknowledge and to accept because I don’t do alone well. But that’s the reality of the situation. And when I’m ready, the universe will provide the person who’s supposed to be there, who’s supposed to be the partner/friend/companion/lover and not someone who I have decided will have that role.

In the meantime, my three favorite men still have the biggest pieces of my heart and are taking good care of it. Although I realize part of my restlessness and frustration lately is that one of those pieces of my heart is not here. I jokingly said I would miss AJ while he was in Atlanta and now realize how much I do miss him. I didn’t realize how important he is in my life until he wasn’t there. So, enjoy making the film, AJ, but hurry home. I need to have all the pieces of my heart together in one place. Peter and Chairman have been holding your place but it’s not the same without you.

And I guess while my heart is split amongst these three, there’s not enough for someone else right now. And that’s just fine.

I recognized again tonight how lucky I am to have this incredible group of people in my life. Every once in a while, I need the universe to shine a light on this fact and make me face it. I have left some of my best friends behind on this new chapter of my life as they don’t quite fit anymore. And I’m not sure where we’ll all be in another year, as I move through this adventure and find my way on my own. I only hope that the memories will always be sweet and make me smile.

I realize that I am really looking forward to my tattoo next weekend. I’ve had a couple of brief moments of “what the hell am I thinking” but, for me, it will be a symbol of my new life, of the adventure I am embarking on and as a reminder to always look for the blessing and the destiny that is before me. For those of you who don’t know, my tattoo will be on my left wrist, Sanskrit blessing “om mani padme ohm” on the top side of the wrist and kanji “destiny” on the inside of my left wrist. This is for me, not a fuck you to my ex, not as a response to being divorced, but as a reminder of how blessed my life is and that I chose to follow my destiny rather than let it die.

And it couldn’t be more fitting that I will be doing this in Vegas with my best friend, Zadra, and my other best friend, my mother. And, hopefully, one of my favorite guys who is also one of my best friends may be tagging along as well. That would make it just about perfect.

And I realize that I am ready for this film. I know what I’m doing. I have to keep the fears at bay and just accept the fact that this is where I have been headed for a very long time. Sacrifices in my life were made to achieve this dream and to not embrace it and enjoy it and make it the most amazing time of my life is to diminish these sacrifices. It also diminishes the faith of those around me who have encouraged me and supported me through this whole adventure and those who have stepped forward to take my hand and join me in this particular project. They have put their faith and their belief in me and I cannot let them – or myself – down. This is what I am meant to do and, dammit, I should enjoy it.

And I realize that I am loved. And that I love. Simple as that. No projections, no manipulations, just pure, simple fact. I love. And am loved in return. And it doesn’t need to be labeled or validated or defined. To define and label is to reduce the quality and chance losing that love, no matter what form it takes. I just need to accept it and give it back, unconditionally, without strings, without thought.

And I think that’s my biggest lesson and realization of all. Loved in so many ways, love in so many ways. May we all find that place.

Fear...

Fear is interesting. It informs so much that we do, that we feel, that we need.

In reading other recent blogs from other bloggers, it’s nice to know that I am not alone in my fears.

Fear has been so rampant in my life over the past few years that it’s hard to get away from it. It kept me in a marriage that I should have ended at least two years ago. That would be fear of being alone, fear of not knowing what life would be like without him, fear of leaving something and someone I loved for so long.

Fear ruled the last few years of my marriage because I was afraid of saying anything to disrupt my relationship. I was afraid of being wrong, of feeling worse than I already did. I was afraid of losing him, which, ironically, the fear is what drove us apart. I was afraid to say what I felt because I felt that whatever it was, was the wrong feeling.

Fear ruled my creative life, as I gave into doubts and that fearful voice in my head that told me all the things that were wrong with what I did. Fear that if I didn’t listen to those guiding me that I would land flat on my face and suck so badly, I would never work again. Fear of losing those I loved and respected because I didn’t do exactly what they told me to do. Fear made me not trust my instincts and completely acquiesce to others’ opinions.

Fear of making a fool of myself has prevented me from embracing the joy in my life. Fear of being silly and stupid and not perfect made me stop from playing. Fear of what my ex would think prevented me from so many opportunities to embrace my joy. I gave into those fears so easily.

The biggest fear of all is letting someone see inside of me. Fear of letting what I really feel show. However, recent fear has cropped up that maybe these blogs aren’t useful and helpful to me, that maybe I expose too much about myself and others on these blogs and that maybe they’re not really letting people in but maybe driving people away from me. It’s a difficult thing to know and to feel.

Although I have been working really hard to open myself up to those around me, I’m still terrified to actually say what I feel – really feel deep down inside – to those who need to hear it. It’s easy to say, oh, I’m so glad you’re in my life and to praise those around me for what they have done for me and how important they are to me. But it’s hard for me to open about the more personal things – even those that are not so deep or dark but just deeply personal. For me to sit with someone and say, hey, you know what, I think this about you or about how you affect me or how I affect you or whatever. It’s hard for me to do this because fear rears its ugly head.

That fear tells me not to be open, not to be honest because that’s a bad thing. It might drive people away. Nobody wants to really know what you feel down inside, especially when it comes to what you feel about them.

And I see this reflected in my fellow bloggers’ missives. Fear that we’re not going to be loved for ourselves, fear that the one person we need to say things to will reject us if we actually are stupid enough to open our mouths. Fear that we don’t live up to what’s expected of us, fear of saying no to opportunities that drain us, fear of just about every fricking thing out there.

I wish getting over these fears were as easy as getting over my karaoke fear. Not that that has been easy. But at least it’s easy to practice getting over that fear. Get up twice a week whether I want to or not and just sing my fool heart out. It’s easy to fight that fear with the friendly faces out there, smiling back at me, encouraging me. It’s getting easier to fight that fear when I get warm hugs from Peter or Chairman or Damian or any of the others when I do particularly well.

If only those rewards were easy to see in the other fearful situations. Hugs aren’t always given out for having those difficult conversations you don’t want to have. Smiles and praises aren’t given out for revealing the real you to someone and risk that they are going to respond. Fear relishes the opportunity to feed itself upon our inadequacies.

Don’t have any answers to fear. I’ve tried facing it down in the last few months and it’s not gotten any easier. And I have to face it again soon in so many ways – discussions that need to be had but don’t really want to, facing the upcoming production which scares the shit out of me, trusting that some friendships will survive no matter what.

I just have to trust that as long as I’m clear on what I want, clear on expressing myself and try to stay true to myself that fear will take a back seat and just shut the hell up for a while. And the reward, I guess, is in being honest and being true to myself and that’s what I’ll have to accept.

Getting "Inked" - Vegas, baby!

So my mid-life crisis will be televised. I am heading out for Vegas Friday, Jan. 27 with my mom and Zadra in tow and getting "Inked" on Saturday, Jan. 28. I am assuming we'll head back Saturday afterwards and be back in LA Saturday night. Quick trip. Appropriately, it's the day before my divorce is final.

I don't know anything about when the episode will air but will advise when I know.

I'm excited, nervous, scared, excited, can't believe I'm doing this. If anyone else cares to tag along, let me know. I have room for one more in the car! I promise to load my Ipod with fun stuff. Or meet us there!

Anyway, wow, life is strange.

Wow, the power of the blog...

Who knew that this little diatribe online would inspire such concern? Talking to a friend tonight who said, “Everyone’s asking me what’s going on with you with your last couple of blogs. Everything all right?”

Well, I’m kind of surprised that the last couple of blogs have inspired such concern. I am touched that friends care enough to 1) read my blogs and 2) be concerned when reading said blogs.

Things are… well, maybe not fine but there are things I need to figure out and at least one discussion that needs to be had.

Mainly, limbo is a place that sucks. It leaves no room for anything. Due to circumstances, I find myself in a place with a lot of emotions but nowhere to put them. In fact, I’ve probably already said too much in these little blatherings about these circumstances so I’m gong to stop here before I blurt out anything else.

I just need to find some clarity on some things. I need to find the right time to discuss this and make sure I know exactly where I stand.

And, on a side note, the universe has one fucked up sense of humor. Very long story that sort of ties into recent circumstances. Just can’t explain it here.

So for those concerned, I am pretty much fine. I’m confused, I’m aggravated, I’m puzzled, I’m exhausted with trying to figure things out, I’m frustrated. But things will work out the way they need to. They always do. And I just have to trust that.

Yucky.

Feeling on the outside edge of things today.

In limbo and I hate that. Waning full moon I’m sure has something to do with it.

Been working on Cinderella and making progress in what has to be done but it’s still far enough away that there is no urgency right now, which I thrive on urgency. So, while there is much to be done, don’t feel like tackling that project today.

Missing my Alcove coffee-mate. Hope Atlanta is treating him well and can’t wait till he returns with tales of debauchery and filmmaking.

Maybe I should try speed-dating. Yeah, that’ll solve all my problems.

Afraid of losing connection with someone very precious due to circumstances, my saying too much or not enough, not knowing what to do.

Maybe it’s a good day to theater hop. Haven’t seen in a movie in eons and maybe it’s time.

Two weeks to D-final day. Seems so quick. Thought there would be a whole lot more… something. But it ends with a whimper, I guess, like so many things in life.

Need to get up and get out into the sunshine and see if I can lift this gloominess and pessimism. Fight off the blues before they can take hold.

Here's the flip side...

Women.

We think we’re so smart, analyzing everything, questioning everything, trying to figure everything out as it goes. We check and double-check to make sure what we’re feeling is what we should be feeling and project what others should be feeing so that we can assess a situation and figure out what to do from there. What we don’t always take into consideration is that other people feel what they feel, not what we want them to feel. And that’s frustrating and aggravating.

And we analyze ad nauseum. I just spent about six hours hashing over several things and events with my best friend, Zadra. Every detail, every word, every thought. Everything I thought was going on and everything that actually went on. What I thought was actually going on.

Then she said it – “why don’t you just sit down and talk to him, ask him what’s going on.” And I immediately replied, “Are you nuts? Actually ask him and know what’s going on? Oh, no, I can’t do that.”

Because then there would be manipulation, no calculation, no discussion between girlfriends about what’s going on. It would simply be what it is, no questions, no other thoughts, no other issues. Just done.

And then what would I do with my time?

They have us all fooled...

Men.

I keep hearing “men are stupid”, “men don’t get it”, “men don’t read signals well”, “men don’t know when women are interested in them.”

What a crock.

I personally think that men are sitting around, laughing their asses off, knowing they have us all believing that they’re incompetent and stupid and clueless. We have given them carte blanche to behave like idiots, ignore our feelings and generally behave like morons.

Take for example the recent object of my affection. Clueless to being said object, or at least that’s what we all figure. Even one of my friends commented, “Doesn’t he read your blogs? How could he not know?” Then came the infamous refrain – guess he’s just stupid. Some day I’ll blog about the last 24 hours when I have some distance on it. Again, though, the excuse – guess he’s too stupid to realize what he’s doing. After all, he’s a guy and they’re stupid about these things.

Bullshit. We let them get away with it because we never call them on it. At least not in the early stages. We don’t let them get away with these things after a relationship is underway but we let them get away with murder beforehand.

We should not let them do this. We should just stop them. Call them on it and say, hey, you know what, you’ve strung me along for months and sent out all these signals and just when I think things are going one way, you change directions and leave me hanging there. And don’t give me crap about not sending out signals, not knowing there was interest there. Men use the signals excuse when they want to hit on a girl – “hey, she was giving me signals, man” – but not when the signals are coming from them.

By allowing men to get away with the “men are stupid” thing, it absolves them of the responsibility of being involved in a relationship from the beginning. It absolves them from having to be responsible for our feelings from the get-go instead of from when they decide to actually commit to us. It allows them to not commit to us until they are good and ready.

I think it’s time to stop the madness. Guys, we’re on to you. We don’t buy that you’re that stupid. We buy that you’re that afraid. But we know you’re not that stupid.

So just say to us, “We don’t know what we want, we’re confused about who we want, we’re confused about why we want who we want. We’re afraid to tell you that we’re interested in you because then that means you know how we feel.” Then maybe we’ll really know how smart you are.

Thanks to Artemis, Goddess of the Moon.

The Moon is the celestial Mother
I am daughter of the Moon
Devoted to Artemis.
My blood is Amazon
My life is Amazon.
Servant to my Nation
and to my Sisters.
I am daughter of the Moon.
- jasacco

I think I like Artemis. She did not consort with or bow to the rule of men. Violence for itself was abhorrent to her, yet she was swift to deal out punishment to offenders, especially those who threatened or harassed women. Her bow is symbolic of both the crescent Moon as well as of inner self-esteem, of an exquisitely tuned inner tension.

I find myself once again under Artemis’ spell. The full moon is looming and I can feel its draw. It makes me crazy and clear, both at the same time.

Crazy because the moon seems to bring out all the desires and wants in my soul. It makes me less cautious about being careful about what I say and makes me want to go up to those who attract me and just kiss them and drag them off with me and do fun and unspeakable things with them then leave them by the side of the road as I go off in search of other conquests. It makes me want to confess my love to strangers and unveil my crushes to those who are crushed upon. It makes me want to wear silly things like dresses and skirts and pretend to be a girl for a while, so that maybe I can lure unsuspecting ones into my trap.

Clear because my brain seems to be completely open and uncluttered and crisp. I seem to see things with a clarity that I don’t always have. I look at things around me and I don’t question why things are the way they are. I seem to be able to accept them and not obsess over where they are. And see clearly the wants and desires in my life and how to maybe attain those.

So pardon me if, when I see you in the next few days, I am more touchy-feely, lovey, kissy than I usually am. And should I confess my love to you, chalk it up to Artemis and just leave it at that. In a few days, it’ll all be behind me and life will return to its normal, crazy, chaotic, over-wrought emotional ways. Just thought I’d warn you.

Damn clowns are awake...

It’s one of those nights – worked at the Ark painting until almost 1 AM and now I’m exhausted but can’t seem to make it to bed. My brain is on full tilt boogie and shouting about 100 different things at me. So let’s see if I can get rid of some of this so maybe a few hours of sleep can be had before the sun raises its head.

This past week with my father, needless to say, brought tons of things out in me, not all good, not all bad. I realized in the middle of it that I need to learn how to handle difficult situations without turning to someone else to make me feel better or to help put away the pain or emotion or whatever. It’s okay to say, hey, I’m hurting, I’m sad, I need to talk. But I think I got used to dumping out emotions without looking at them to see what they mean or why I feel them. I wasn’t getting any response to my needs, my emotions, my wants so I just would blurt them out then put them away. Inevitably, they would escape and create chaos. Now I’m beginning to see that I need to curl up with them, examine them and see what they bring me, see what they tell me about myself. Then, maybe, if I do reach out to someone, I can reach out in a more concise, specific way so my needs can be expressed and tended to instead of just aaaauuuughhhhh, which is not a whole lot of help.

Even though I felt myself drawn to my ex recently, I really see how much I left him behind and really don’t want to go back to that. He’s not a bad guy. I hope he finds some growth in this but it’s not up to me to help him grow anymore. I appreciate that he still cares and he’s been wonderful to my parents through this whole health drama. But it’s too little, too late. I wanted to turn to him because it was familiar, but familiar for all the wrong reasons. He couldn’t help me then, he’s certainly not going to be able to help me now.

I thought I would mourn the end of my marriage longer. Somehow, I thought it would be so much harder. Not that it’s been easy. And I still have tough nights. I found one of his notes from a rose he gave me in a box tonight and it brought me to my knees. But I was ready to move on so long ago that I think I did all the mourning and pining for what we had while we were still together so that now, it’s just the closing of the wounds now and trying to see what I can learn from this so the next time won’t become so conflicted.

And I’m now watching those I love struggle with their own relationships, trying to figure out what’s next, where to go, should they stay, how long, what do they want. I don’t know if it’s the phase of the moon or that time of the year, but such transition seems to be underway right now. It’s hard to watch this struggle but I know it’ll all be for the best in the end. It has to be, right? Otherwise, why would we change things?

Change has been on my mind a lot lately. Change of residence, which, thankfully, did not happen. Change of employment, which is looking up. Change in creativity, channeling it elsewhere. Change in relationships, which ones have gone away and why, which ones are here and in transition and why, which ones are hovering in the air. I feel a major change coming but I’m not sure what that is. I’m intrigued by the thought of another city, starting over where no one knows me, I can be whoever I want to be. I guess it’s my sister’s influence, she’s moved a lot. But I’m not sure she’s always found what she wanted in those moves. The last one, to Minneapolis with her current husband, seems to be right for her. I almost admire her ability to just pack up and start over again. Although there are so many things to keep me here – the Ark mainly, the film coming soon, such good, good friends. But the anchor, the reason to stay, is not there. And no promise of it on the horizon. I thought there was something but, again, I guess I was wrong. Something to put in the mixer that is my brain and see where it ends up.

Tracey said it tonight – I just want someone to go home to. But with the caveat that it doesn’t have to be every night. I thought, that’s just about right. Someone you can curl up with a couple of nights a week, catch up on some TV, watch a movie, make dinner, just be together. But not every night. I’m beginning to embrace nights alone, finding things to do that are not just “make busy” things. Time to focus on things for “Cinderella,” time to just focus on me. I’m starting to not fear nights alone. But a couple of nights with someone, with maybe a phone call now and then in between, that wouldn’t suck. Nothing serious but, yet, not exactly casual. I guess that’s just about impossible but it would be nice, wouldn’t it?

Anyway, I should go scrape some of the paint off of my exposed skin and maybe see if I can close my eyes and quiet the clowns for a while. Twyla’s anxious to climb into bed and settle in. I guess I should accommodate her. After all, she’s the one who shares the bed with me. Okay, that sounds wrong but it’s true.

Bunch o'things

1. Attended a Planned Parenthood rally today. You might see a glimpse of me on the news tonight! I’ve always done the email thing and supported Planned Parenthood in their efforts to Save Roe but thought I’d put my body where my mouth is and go down there today. The last election, as we’ve all realized, really pointed out to me that one single person added with another person, etc., can make a difference.



And the religious right has the country so brain-washed and themselves so brain-washed that I felt I had to do something. Roe V. Wade is not about abortion. It’s about a woman’s right to privacy, for her and her doctors to be the ones making decisions about her health, not the government. It’s about my right to take birth control so that I can choose when to have children and when not to. It’s about my right to education about birth control, fertility, and, yes, abortion, if I need it. It even overlaps into sex education for our children because the religious right have associated Roe V Wade with sex education and teaching children about abortion.



So instead of giving our children the information they need to make smart choices and not use abortion as birth control, they have created an environment of ignorance with Abstinence Only education that will lead to more and more low income women turning to abortion for just that purpose. It’s about my right to go to Target and insist that they fill my prescription for birth control but it’s not up to the pharmacist to make that choice for me. If you cannot fill a prescription written out by a doctor, then you should not be a pharmacist. As a woman who struggled with infertility for years and was told that our medical only covered part of the treatment because my inability to have children was not considered a “disability” and didn’t affect the quality of my life. Whereas, apparently, an 87-year-old man’s inability to have an erection is a “disability” and affects the quality of his life. I’d say an 87-year-old man on Viagra affects an 87-year-old woman’s quality of life – as she runs into her room and locks the door!



It’s about my right to keep my medical records private from an attorney general in Kansas who wants Planned Parenthood and other clinics to turn over their patient records so they can find out which 16-year-old girls are having abortions or requesting birth control so that the attorney general can arrest the men/boys these girls have been sleeping with because it’s statutory rape. Huh? Because apparently the only way these girls are getting pregnant is by being held hostage and raped. Oops, sorry, my soapbox got out and I couldn’t help getting on it.

2. Okay, off the soapbox now. Feeling somewhat productive as I finally seem to be getting things moving on “Cinderella Drives A Pick-Up.” If you’re on Myspace, check it out at http://www.myspace.com/cinderelladrivesapickup, although I’ve already added most of you as friends already. I’ve got a half-assed website started (http://www.coupleoffools.com/cinderella) which I hope to flesh out this week. Just wait, the requests for money to help make this film will be coming!

3. Dad’s fine. He’s home, resting up, recuperating. His pacemaker is pacing and he’s making my mother crazy, as usual. Glad to have him around for a while longer.

4. Trying to figure out where a 43-year-old, overweight, twice-divorced woman goes to meet men. I’ve been living at the Ark for so long, it hasn’t left me a whole lot of options on meeting guys. Hmmm, must consider possibilities. Bigfoot? Ewwww. Big, hairy, tattooed men wearing black. Um, no, thanks. Koji’s? Creepy Johnny Depp wanna-be (oh, no, he’s engaged). Too hip for the room hip hop guys. That weird bunch of guys that hang out and stare at you as you sing. Yeah, those are the kinda guys I’m looking for. Maybe I’ll try Trader Joe’s in Toluca Lake or hang out at the Laundromat. Maybe start a new group called “Voluptuous, divorced and desperate.” Yeah, that’ll bring on the guys.

5. Oh, yeah, my divorce is final in 20 days. Not that I’m counting.

6. And speaking of divorce, no longer finding the ex’s attempts at sympathy and compassion all that charming anymore. It was nice the first day or two because I really needed some warmth and compassion. Now that he’s calling every time something happens, such I didn’t go to an memorial service for my neighbor’s best friend as I was too wiped out from dealing with my father, he called to see if I was okay. And he’s been doing a lot of that. If only he had thought of that more often when I was, oh, I don’t know, suicidal, that may have kept our marriage alive. Now, it just annoys the shit out of me.

7. Learning to just let things be. I tend to want to push things and shape them the way I want them. It makes life very frustrating because others don’t necessarily play along with that. So I’m trying to not make big deals out of little situations and trying not to read too much into little things that probably don’t mean much. Damn, what am I going to do with all that time I’ll save by not obsessing? Maybe be productive.

8. Hoping my dear friend finds her way through a relationship minefield right now and hope she knows I’m there for whatever she needs. It’s hard not to push and make her do what I think is best for her. She needs to find it for herself. I just need to stand by with the net to catch her when she falls.

So that’s everything in my head tonight. Not a lot and, yet, a whole bunch. Just had to do a brain dump to make some room. Until next time…

Clarity

There is something about having a bunch of emotional days that always leaves me with perfect clarity about my life.

After seeing my father following his surgery last night (which went very well, he’s home, in pain, but happy to be home and recovering), I finally let go of all the emotions I’d been holding so tightly to. Okay, the two Jameson’s helped.

But this morning, I woke up clear-headed, focused and with such a feeling of insight into my life. All the things that seemed to desperate and unfathomable last week now don’t seem so daunting. My relationships are crystal clear and those that I cannot change or don’t understand are fine for now. I’ll ride them out and see where they go. No longer feel the need to figure everything out right now and make it fit into the scenario is desire. I will enjoy what is in front of me and let the universe help me figure it out as I go. After all, I am descended from Taoism and Buddhism. Might as well embrace it.

I guess the lesson for me to learn is how to find this clarity at the times of high emotional stress and drama. Learn to lasso the emotions and focus on the ones that are necessary and relevant to what’s going on and not let all the other emotions that are stirred up get in the way. It’s hard to separate emotions out that way but I think it may be the healthiest thing in the long run, understand the emotional value of the moment and not blur it with left-over emotion that is just clogging things up.

Maybe doing five loads of laundry helped a bit, too. Cleaning up the past, some of which is still left from moving out of my apartment into Zadra’s, can’t help but clear things up a bit.

So I face tomorrow with a clearer mind and a less emotional heart, always a good thing. Thanks for listening to (or reading) my emotional diatribes about how life sucks. I know it doesn’t, it just sometimes doesn’t seem so clear.

Here’s to keeping that clarity and presence of mind at least through tomorrow!

Self-medication is a wonderful thing.

Pardon this blog if it gets incoherent at any time. It’s been a very long, tough week and I am seated at the computer with a Jameson’s in one hand and, well, actually nothing in the other. And I’m sure it’s not going to be the last one of the night. I can count on one hand the number of times I have over-indulged to quiet the clowns in my head. One was with my first ex, him out at a party with, I’m sure, someone else while we were still married. Two big bottles of red wine in about an hour. Interesting view of the living room. No hangover. God understood. And tonight.

First of all, everything turned out fine with my father, or at least as fine as it could be. His surgery was a success, he was already awake and ready to eat when they wheeled him back into his room. He should be home tomorrow to heal, and, hopefully, feel better with the new mechanical crap inside of him. No wonder his screen name is RoboRon.

Spending this week with my mother has been a challenge. I love her very much and I appreciate what she has done for me, not just recently but my whole life. She is where I get my drive, my ambition, my passion but also a lot of my bad habits. She has been very stressed this week, needless to say, and I have had to be the level-headed one. Wow, how did that happen? And stress brings out the worst in her and that makes me crazy. It’s hard to deal with her when she’s stressed because she becomes this bundle of manic energy that must find a place to go (hmmm, why does this sound familiar?). So it’s been five days of frenetic, unfocused disassociated energy swirling around me while I’ve been trying to keep her sane and trying to keep her from making my father more stressed. I have found myself in the weird place that I guess people my age find themselves in – caregiver/caretaker for the parents as they become the children. It’s strange, it’s weird and it’s difficult.

The worst sound in the world is the sound of fear in your mother’s voice. I hope that you never experience that. It’s all I’ve heard in my mother’s voice this week. Tonight, once my father was finally back in his room, the fear started to dissipate from her voice. I fought very hard to keep it out of my voice when talking to her in order to keep her calm.

As usual, with the swirl of emotions surrounding my father, many other emotions were released. Confusing, frustrating, infuriating, disappointing, depressing and so many other adjectives that I can’t even spell right now. I know it’s my heightened emotional state and maybe a bit of the Jameson’s that makes these things race around in my head. I am hoping the Jameson’s eventually quiets them down.

Disorganized, nonsensical list of things in my head: relief; sorrow; sadness; more relief; I am an idiot; disappointment; fear; what the hell did I do?; loneliness; what now?; why do I say so much in these stupid blogs and should I just shut the hell up?; loss; unending gratitude for everyone’s thoughts/prayers/wishes; have I done it again – lost yet another friendship?; when will I get my shit together already? And much, much more.

Really want to be with people tonight but really don’t want to be. Should call Zadra back but probably won’t. Don’t know what to say.

There has been darkness creeping around the edges again lately and it’s hard to push it back.

Communication between the sexes

It’s amazing that we, as humans, ever get together and procreate.

It’s all so complicated. I don’t remember it being this complicated when I met my ex and started dating him. Maybe we were the anomaly. I watch my roomie go through her dating experiences (ask her about “dude” guy) and how impossible it is for men and women to communicate. I’m vaguely experiencing some of that myself. And I have talked to so many of my single girlfriends who are in the same boat – men don’t communicate, women communicate too much.

Men don’t talk about feelings. Men want to be left alone. Men don’t want to commit in case they’re going to lose something or have to give up something.

Women want to talk only about feelings. Women don’t want to be alone, they want to be with you. A lot of women want a commitment right away, want to be tethered to your ankle like Lo-Jack and know everything about everything in your life.

Let me clarify for you, at least in my case. I just came out of a 16 year relationship. I am not looking for 16 more right now. I’d appreciate a little hand-holding, maybe a nice good night kiss. Eventually, maybe even – dare I say it – sex might be nice. I’m not expecting long term commitment and moving in tomorrow (although if sex is involved, expect to have to at least call once in a while).

I’d like to go out on a real date with someone. Be picked up at the door, driven home. Don’t need to do that every night. I can drive. I could even pick him up, if needed. Don’t need to be with you every night. I don’t really want to be with someone every night. Of course, for this scenario to happen, there would have to be someone who wanted to take me out on a real date and those prospects are dim at the moment.

Don’t need to know your every move, as I don’t expect to have to tell you mine, although, as a woman, I may share that with you anyway. It’s in our nature, just accept it.

Feelings will be discussed. Again, in our nature. But I promise to try to keep that to a minimum. I have a therapist to discuss those things with. In fact, I may even discuss the person I’m dating with my therapist. After all, at least she has a license, as opposed to my friends who I will be discussing you with.

I will promise not to blog too much on what happens on a date. Expect some of it to show up, though. Can’t help myself, it’s part of the process. But some things never make it to these web pages, believe it or not, and you can feel safe in knowing that not everything is for public consumption.

Maybe there should be a form to fill out when you’re interested in someone that lets you know in advance what they expect of the relationship. Friends? Okay, that means no sex, no cuddling, no making out. Friends are friends, not lovers. Check. Dating but not sexually active? That means you ain’t getting nothing, even if you pay for dinner. I like you, I want to spend time with you, I might even want to kiss a little. But unless there’s going to be more than a date here and there, keep it in your pants. Check. Moving into a more serious relationship. Phone calls would be expected, not necessarily daily but often enough. Cuddling, smooching and, yes, maybe even sex at this point, although that should be defined as well – how often, where, what’s acceptable. In this day and age, who knows what other people are into. Clarify it at the start, that way, you won’t find yourself with someone who likes to be punched in the face (true story I overheard in a bar) to get sexually aroused. Check.

This form would satisfy both sexes – men wouldn’t have to communicate too much, they could just check things off. Women could get some communication at least by reading the form and adding their own checkmarks.

But barring that, I guess we’re left with the old-fashioned guessing game of who wants what and how. There’s got to be an easier way!

Damn universe and its lessons!

Dealing with my father the last couple of days has led to some lessons in being alone, whether I want the lessons or not. The universe really doesn’t take into consideration whether or not you feel like learning at this particular point in time. Just like a teacher, it just teaches and you either get something out of it or you fail.

I’m trying not to fail this time.

The universe seems determined to teach me how to live alone. I don’t mean living in a space by myself. I mean, learn to deal with my shit by myself. And that’s not a bad thing. I realized last night as I reached out and didn’t find anyone there that, hey, that’s life. And it’s not pleasant. And it’s not always easy. Sometimes, there isn’t anyone there and that’s the reality of it.

I guess after being with someone so long, I got used to having a body there, if not necessarily the emotional support. At least there was someone in the room to hang on to, who would attempt to make me feel better, even if he couldn’t. I got used to having that body there and that’s one of the hardest things about this whole process – getting used to not having that body there.

One of the things I’m trying to learn is how to deal with myself. I’ve never been good at it. And finding friends and lovers to help cope with things is fine but I think sometimes I hide behind that to avoid really looking at my own emotions. It’s easier to cry on someone’s shoulder, maybe not necessarily express what I’m really feeling but at least express something. Then I can tell myself, there, I got it out, I’m better now.

But as I’m learning, I am not always better. I bury things real well. I hide things real well. And the more I can avoid actually looking inside to see what I truly feel, the easier it is to continue that trend.

It’s strange because I want to be this totally independent, don’t need anyone person yet I have such a great need to have someone – anyone – in my life that I sometimes confuse the issue and cloud relationships, trying to make them fit and force them to meet my needs and take care of me. I’m learning I can’t have both – be truly, freely alone (in a good way) and be taken care of.

I am also learning about how I project what I want on to relationships and that the disappointment that comes when people don’t act the way I want them to is entirely my own fault. I am not always clear in what I want from friends or lovers. I find it extremely difficult to say, “hey, I’m in pain and I need to see you right now.” I beat around the bush and make platitudes and then when they don’t immediately leap to my side, I am disappointed. But they don’t know what I want because I don’t know how to say it. And until I can clearly state those wants and needs, I cannot expect anyone else on earth to understand them – except Zadra. She seems to have an eerie sixth sense and makes total sense of my ramblings and responds accordingly.

So while I go through the next few days with my father, I’m going to try to keep an ear open to hear what the universe is trying to say. Because, until I can understand my own feelings and learn how to express them and process them, I cannot expect anyone else to understand them. So I appreciate you all allowing me to be needy and clingy and incoherent at times without judgment. And I apologize to any of those relationships whose bounds I may have overstepped lately. Hopefully, as I grow and I learn, I will be less clumsy about deciphering my feelings and expressing what I want from you and will stumble less on my own.

Hard coupla days...

They’re going to replace my dad’s pacemaker some time this week, not really sure when. That’s actually good news. His old one apparently isn’t regulating his heart the way it should be although it does seem to have prevented or helped him through a minor heart attack. It’s a quick, simple procedure with a low risk so he should come out of it all right in the long run. This will be the third pacemaker he’s had. The first one was replaced after he went golfing when his doctor cleared him to and his golf swing was so strong that it pulled the leads off of his heart. So they replaced it with the one he currently has, which apparently is not working properly now. He’s a tough guy with a very Taoist attitude about it all.

I wish I could have that attitude. I’ve been trying to but it’s not easy. My mother is very stressed out from all this and hyperkinetic and bouncing off the walls. She’s very frenetic anyway and things like this just make her more so. I spent the whole day down near Long Beach with her, which gave her some comfort, but exhausted me.

I really needed some comfort tonight but, unfortunately, it was one of those nights when no one was really available and Zadra, my rock, is out of town. Tiffany did what she could, which I appreciated, but she had plans that I didn’t want her to cancel. So I curled up in my room with George Clooney and “Out of Sight”, which helped with a little distraction. I may move on to “Three Kings” as my neighbors are apparently having a party in their bedroom, which is on the other side of my wall, and there will be no sleep immediately here.

It’s so hard not to get sucked into old habits at times like these. I called the ex to tell him about Dad, because he truly loves my parents a great deal and I thought he should know. He immediately offered the comfort that I was so needing, because this is the one situation he’s good at – emotion that has a point, that has a comprehensible meaning – and a situation which requires someone to kind of take action and help fix it. And it’s really hard not to turn to him right now because I know he would give me the comfort that I need. He’s been through this situation with me before so he knows how hard it is.

But I know I cannot go back there because, while he may be able to be what I need right now, I know in the long run he can’t be what I need. We’ve gone way past that. So I’ll take comfort in knowing that he cares, not only for me but for my parents.

Going back down to Mom’s tomorrow around noon to see what’s going on and to hang out with her for a while. I’ll probably do as much of that as I can until Dad gets home, hopefully in the next few days. It’s the least I can do for everything they’ve done for me. I wish I could do more.

So, please keep my folks in your thoughts and prayers for the next few days. I know I have been incessantly blogging and posting the last few days but I just feel the need to, so please bear with me. Thanks for the notes of support and encouragement. They mean a lot.

Wow, the voices were loud last night.

It’s always interesting to go back and re-read what I’ve posted, even just hours later, and see where my perspective is.

In the morning light, things are not so dire and hopeless, as usual. However, I will never apologize for any blog, no matter how emotional or how self-defeating. This is meant as an honest and open view of what’s going on in my life as I move into this third phase of my life and sometimes that is not easy, as you all know. So many times, just writing the words down and getting them out of my head is such a relief. And knowing that there are people out there who will read this and respond in a variety of ways gives me much comfort. It is difficult for me to really show the darker, deeper emotional side sometimes and this blog is the only way I can really let my friends know how I feel.

So today, after almost a full eight hours of sleep (okay, three hours then awake around 3ish, as usual, for a half hour, then another almost five hours), I am feeing a bit rejuvenated. I hope to get much accomplished today after picking my dad up at the hospital around lunchtime.

Mikee suggested 2006 be the year of discovery. For me, 2005 started that and the process definitely will continue through this year, to hopefully reveal a more stable, more sane me with less time being drawn to the dark and more time spent dancing in the light.

Head full of crap tonight

First, as many of you know, my father had what I think is his sixth heart attack this morning. Luckily, it was very minor and, after he got to the hospital and they hydrated him, etc., he immediately felt better. He’s in there overnight tonight mainly for observation and he will probably go home tomorrow. I’m going to head down in the AM and hang out to pick him up and take him home. His heart problems go all the way back to when I was 16 – double bypass surgery, heart attacks, pacemaker a few years ago, pneumonia last year that almost killed him.

So often, when we face these issues with him, it makes me realize how much I will miss him when he is gone. He wasn’t around much when I grew up as he worked the late night shift driving bus. He usually didn’t get home until after midnight and it wasn’t until I was into my late teens, when after midnight became a normal time for me to get home, did he and I really connect. And we connected over films. As I moved out and married my first husband, movies became a way for us to talk and share time. When I was studying dance and really deeply enmeshed in that, he caught “Pippin” on PBS one night and decided it was something I should see. He knew who Bob Fosse was, which blew me away. He would tape musicals on his old Betamax (that’s how long ago this was) and have something for me almost every time I came over.

Even now, he has the IFC Channel and Sundance and is constantly discussing independent film with me, what he’s seen, did I like “Red Rock West” and Croupier”. I try to emulate his very Taoist attitude of never having regrets, do your best at what’s in front of you, and tomorrow will take care of itself. Make yourself happy in your life, otherwise, what’s the point. He had many opportunities to do more than drive a bus his whole life but he told me once how much he enjoyed driving and talking to the passengers. He could leave the job at the station every night and not bring it home with him. Why should he do something else if that’s what gave him pleasure?

So when we have these close calls – and they are coming more often now – it scares me to think of him not being around. He is my muse, he is my heart and soul. My life will be so empty when he is not around. I have tried to tell him how much he means to me but it’s not easy to say. I can only hope that my pathetic attempts have given him an iota of an idea of how much he means to me. His time now has become very precious and I want to make sure that I treasure every moment with him.

Then there’s the on-going unresolved situation. Just when I think I have a handle on it and where it’s going, there’s a right turn and I’m standing there, completely unsure of where to go next. I’m getting tired of this. It’s not going to be long before something needs to be done about it. I cannot keep yo-yoing this way. My heart cannot take it.

And as I stood there, needing someone tonight, someone more than a friend, my ex turns up, gentle, sympathetic, wanting to help. Asking all the right questions, sending all the right signals. Making me wonder why I left him in the first place. It’d be so much easier to just go back to that. Maybe he’s learned something. Maybe he’s grown. Maybe he’s changed enough to justify one more chance. At least there’d be someone there, someone who cares, someone who’s intentions are somewhat clearer. At least I’d know what the downside is and the possible upside. It was hard not to just step into his arms and let him take me home and forget about all of this stupid side trip I have made with my life. I don’t know how I managed to leave the theater without doing just that. I even dialed his number on my way home, still considering reaching out to him. It’s a struggle right now not to make that call.

And now I sit here, contemplating this mid-life adventure and I find myself thinking it’s all been a huge mistake. I’ve put this huge burden on my parents to pay my way, making it easy for me not to try to pay my way. I’ve made a mess of my life, my ex’s life, disrupted several others along the way.

I charge along with foolish ideas that this other person in my life might actually be something very special, something wonderful and yet, in the reality of it all, he’s probably just a good friend that I have decided to fixate on, ensuring that eventually I will push him hard enough with my silly, girlish, high school behavior that even our friendship will be left in the wake and I will lose something very precious. I have projected so much on to him and wasted so much time trying to figure out something that is probably nothing more than the lonely desires of a middle-aged, very confused woman who has nowhere else to put her affections right now.

I am overwhelmed right now by how out of control things seem to be. It may be looking at my father and seeing that there is nothing I can do. But it just makes me look at everything I’m doing and feel that it’s all so frivolous. And that there is no way I can do the things that I have now set out to do. It was so easy to say I left my ex because he didn’t support my creative life and now I must go live it. But, once again, as I stare at the cold reality of it, who am I kidding? I want to make this film in April. Right now, I’m terrified. I cannot do this. I know I can’t. I don’t know why I said I could. It doesn’t matter who’s helping out, who’s supporting it. Right now, this minute, I know that I’m going to fail. I can’t see any other outcome right now. Fulfill the anticipated prediction of failure, I’m good at that. I’m so sure of the failure that I cannot even get myself to move forward on what needs to be done. I’ve been fiddling around with lists and notes and stuff but nothing concrete because I’m terrified. I should just stop right now and save everyone the disappointment. Tomorrow, I may feel differently and I hope to god I do because right now, I don’t see it.

I don’t want my dad’s last memory of my life to be that I am a failure, because that’s what I am right now. I’m 43. I cannot pay my rent without my parents. I cannot pay my bills without my parents. I’m trying to resolve that but it’s not been easy. I’m on my second divorce, not exactly where I thought I would be at this age. I’ve had so little tangible success in the field I’m in. I have nothing to show him and say, “Look, I’m a success.” He’s never demanded it and, for that, I think he deserves it. I just want to show him his faith and trust and love was not misplaced. But right now, I’m not sure there is time for that. And it breaks my heart.

So much better now

Okay, so, for every day I have that I feel sorry for myself or badly about how things are going, the universe just laughs and then dares to show me just how good I have it. I hate when the universe does that.

New Year’s Eve was a lesson in this.

Had a long, great talk with Zadra about the vagaries of men and life and relationships and let go of a lot of the stuff that’s been stuck in my head and keeping me awake this week (right now, my very loud celebrating neighbors all around me are keeping me awake so I’m tormenting them with various playlists off my Ipod). Zadra has this way of cutting through the white noise in my head and making me release it into the atmosphere. She also has this annoying little enigmatic smile when I pose questions that no one could possibly answer, Cheshire-like, as though somewhere in her brain she has the answers to all but she just isn’t ready to share these secrets yet. In payment for her wisdom and tolerance, I helped her and her parents negotiate the treacherous nooks and crannies of Ikea. I left them awaiting their pre-fab, pre-packaged, DIY packages. I also left feeling so much more centered and less frantic than I had been in days.

Then an evening that started off going awry turned out just perfectly. Had planned to meet Chairman and perhaps some of the people from Dalt’s Gang up at the Hard Rock at CityWalk. We were given a last minute head’s up about an unexpected $25 cover charge after 8 PM so I headed up early to avoid this and just hang out, wait for the crowd to arrive. Well, they decided to charge everybody eventually, whether you arrived early or not. And the expected crowd did not appear. Luckily, as I consumed a very expense Jameson’s, two lovely British gentlemen entertained me with talk of cell phones and Las Vegas while I waited to figure out if Chairman was heading up to join me. Once I did hear from him, we decided to forego the anticipated cover charge and meet at Gaucho Grill.

Oh, yeah, they were closed. So Hamburger Hamlet on Hollywood Blvd.

Oh, yeah, they were closed.

As I drove west on Hollywood Blvd., Chairman drove east and, via cell, he announced what was open on Hollywood Blvd. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, New Year’s Eve dinner with my best friend at… wait for it… Hooters. Yep. Doesn’t get better than that.

Actually, as always, the universe showed me it’s not what or where but who. We had a delightful dinner of all the things not good for us and, as always, enjoyable conversation about stripper perfume and an over-abundance of Christmas ornaments.

Then Chairman’s brilliant suggestion of dessert at the Disney Soda Fountain – cuz that’s where one should go after Hooters – was perfect. Much pleasurable moaning over the concoctions placed in front of us peppered the rest of our conversation. Finally, we had to struggle out of there so that he could get to work. That, I think, was the biggest downer of the evening, that he had to go and control the universe that is E Entertainment. But hopefully, pizza or something else equally as thrilling filled in the void of the graveyard shift. But as I got in my car, the loneliness of the last few days evaporated into the lights on Hollywood Blvd.

A quick trip over to Burbank to my friend, Greg’s, house and a whirlwind of updates about the last six months of my life. Suddenly, the ball was dropping – the one in New York on tape delay – and suddenly, it’s 2006. The warmth and the love that greeted me in that house was another reminder that, although it seems like I am alone sometimes, there are so many people within arm’s reach that all I have to do is open myself up and love arrives. After much hugging and kissing and finishing stories, I headed out their door with a handful of balloons, which are now floating in my roommate’s room to greet her when she staggers in later this morning.

How do I know she’ll stagger in? I stopped by her bar to say happy new year and was greeted with a warm, genuine hug from her as she told me how much liquor she had sold and consumed. She always makes me smile because, despite her worldliness, every once in a while, she seems so childlike and sweet in her youth. Can’t wait till she finds the balloons. There goes that universe again, reminding me that I have this zany, sweet, talented roomie for a reason. I’m sure we’ll have many stories to exchange some time late tomorrow when we actually see each other (she has my sympathy for her early shift in the AM).

And now, with sleep a long way from coming as the neighbors halfway down the block have decided to share their annoying oompah Spanish music with the entire neighborhood and at least two blocks in either direction, I am anxious to try to get some shut-eye as the clowns in my head are finally somewhat more quiet and may actually allow me to get some rest tonight, even if the neighbors won’t. Hmm, I think there are earplugs around here somewhere. All in all, not a bad evening, Hooters and all.

Much love to all and my warmest wishes for all your hopes and dreams in 2006. Take Mikee’s advise, make this a year of discovery. I sure plan to – in every way possible!