Moving forward still.

These past two weeks or so have been a real struggle. I walked away from a project because I didn’t feel that it was quite there. The project is going forward and I wish the new team all the best in the world that it comes off well but I’m left with mixed feelings about the whole situation. I really don’t want to go into it because I know some of those involved read this blog and it’s not that I have anything negative to say or want to disparage anybody involved, as that would be unprofessional and I don’t want to be unprofessional, but… I guess I’m just struggling with the aftermath of something I thought would be one thing and it ended up something else. I have a hard time letting things go and it’s been hard for me to let this one go. I still stand behind my decision and I still think I handled everything to the best of my ability. But I can’t help but be left with this unsatisfied, slightly disappointed feeling. Oh, well. Move on, get past it. The project is still going up but with a whole new team and I hope it is what the writer wants it to be.

Then continued turmoil on the relationship front. No movement in one area but some in the other. Wow, cryptic blog tonight but, oh, well. Maybe this one’s just for me. Trying to find my way through the delicate minefield of two very different situations. Zadra says it’s my fault that I get into these situations with men, that I’m not a game-player and, therefore, men feel comfortable with me and get close to me very quickly, which sometimes makes things more complicated than they should be. It explains some things, maybe. I am generally more comfortable with men than I am with women because I do find that women play games, not only with men, but with other women. I hate the falseness of most women – Bitchface and Pantiless Girl are what I would consider shining examples of womanhood – and I hate watching these women play these coy and ridiculous games that, unfortunately, most men fall for, even temporarily. But, if I follow Zadra’s thought, does that mean I have to play games in order to not have men get close to me, so that men will deal with me on the basest level instead of on the deep intellectual level I prefer? I mean, if it means I have to giggle and toss my hair (or my cookies, as in Pantliess Girl’s case), then I’d rather be alone and dead than open with the men in my life. At least I know they respect me. At least I know they respond to me and not my tits, although those have gotten attention on a rare occasion. I never learned how to play games and I’m not at an age where I want to learn.

Then the other project I love is probably going to be put on the backburner due to situations beyond my control. I’m disappointed but I think I have something I can put in its place, so it’s not so bad.

But all of this stuff has built up into a sneaky depression that has left me unable to do anything for the past two weeks or so. The only real bright spots have been the couple of nights with Chairman and his mother, which were so special and so precious, and, of course, Koji’s. I guess the good thing is that I recognized the clowns sneaking up on me before they got a hold of me and pulled me too far under. They did disrupt things and put me off my timetable a bit but at least I caught it before they sunk too many things. I’ve been sitting in the apartment too much and not venturing out because I have been so caught up in the mess in my head. But since Friday, when I realized I heard the squeaky shoes of those bastards, I have fought to pull myself out of the nosedive I was heading into. At least I’m beginning to recognize the symptoms before the depression gets too black. At least I’m not on the ledge again.

Monica hung around tonight and talked to me about some of these things, which was a big help. Sometimes, just having someone say that it’s okay to feel that way, that I’m not way off on my feelings about these things really gives me some relief. I look forward to the day when I don’t need that validation but, for now, I guess I still do.

The good news is that I got my place tidied up a bit today, which helps with keeping the clowns at bay. I plan to dive back into the Cinderella edit over the next few days and get it in shape to show Chairman and get his opinion, as my producer, and hopefully get it off to the composer soon so I can screen it in the next few months. I plan to talk to my artistic director about the new project, which I think I am as excited about as I was about Gross Indecency. So I begin the week more hopeful and less blue, feeling okay to feeling the way I do about these complicated situations, and feeling like I have a potential solution to at least one of these complex relationships. I hope the end of the week finds me with some clarity and some resolution and some forward movement because I’m tired of being stuck here.

For my birthday adventurers...

Been doing more research on Teotihuacan (thank you, Chairman, for helping me learn how to pronounce this correctly).

I'm thinking of a four or five day trip beginning or middle of June, because of my schedule. Zadra's mom works with a travel agency that can give us good prices for an all inclusive package, which they recommend for many reasons. The approximately cost could be anywhere from $700-$1,000 for four or five days. This includes flight, hotel, food, drinks, etc. However, we won't be able to get hard numbers on this until the new year. I understand this is a great deal of money and I appreciate and understand those of you who want to join me but simply can't afford it. I'm going if I have to camp out on the street of Mexico City... okay, maybe not that but... I'm determined to go, even if it is by myself. I know my birthday twin, Patty, wants to go as well but I won't put the pressure on anyone to indulge my birthday fantasy at this point due to the cost.

I'm thinking four to five days because we lose two days to travel and I want to spend at least one day if not two at Teotihuacan alone. You all can join me for as much of that as you want or you can lounge by the pool, drinking and eating and I'll join you upon my return. My whole purpose is to see these ruins but I don't expect everyone to be as excited about these as I am.

Don't forget you will probably need a passport if you don't have one. Info on passports can be found here.

The other thing I realized as I researched this is that I need to get my ass in shape. The Pyramid of the Sun is over 200 feet high - approximately 20 flights of stairs at something like 7000 feet above sea level, I think i read. So my lungs (and knees and thighs and everything else) need to be in better shape than they are now. I don't want to miss out on anything just because I was too lazy to get my butt in shape. So think about that as you plan your trip. I'm hoping to hit Black Dog Yoga in Van Nuys a bit more frequently and take Anna B. up on her offer to walk in circles at a nearby school track.

I'm going to put together a page of links about Teotihuacan and Mexico City and other things that can be done while there. If you have any suggestions, whether you're joining me or not, please let me know so I can include them.

Although it's almost eight months away, time flies so quickly these days that it'll be here before I know it. I cannot wait. I'm looking forward to this trip almost more than any trip I've ever taken (trip to Vegas last year is a close second). I hope you all can join me. The more, the merrier. Of course, there are a few of you I cannot imagine going without in particular. I plan to turn 45 in the most amazing way possible.

So let me know if you have thoughts, questions, suggestions, etc. Starting the countdown today!

Full moon brings poetry...

I won’t ask you to cross time for me.
I won’t ask you to wake from a coma and fall in love with me, even though you don’t know me.
I won’t ask you to follow an elaborate charade involving me, my gorgeous best friend and a radio show.
I won’t ask you to stand outside my door at Christmas, flipping through signs telling me how you feel.
I won’t even ask you to love dogs.

I will just ask you
to look into my eyes,
see what is really there.

I will just ask you
to lower your barrier a bit
and see what is really there.

I will just ask you
to look into your own heart
and see what is really there.

I will just ask you
to take a tiny, little, baby step with me
to see what is really there.

It’s that simple.

Today

Struggling
fighting
drowning
not sure
which way is up
or down
or if there is
a difference.

Hard to move the heart
when it’s firmly anchored;
hard to move the mind
when it won’t let go;
hard to defeat the hurt
when it is so deeply embedded.

Choices
made
good
bad
otherwise
pulling
drawing
pushing me
further down.

I know what I want to have
I know what I want the future to be
I know what I want to feel
but right now
there’s nothing there.
Just things
just stuff
just filler.

And it’s not just him
and it’s not just us.
It’s all
it’s everything
it’s everywhere.

Just standing
struggling
fighting
and
losing.

Magic Castle, et al

Well, tonight was quite lovely and quite full.

Met Chairman, his mother and our friend, Kurt, up at the Magic Castle at 6:30 and had the most delicious dinner. Then we headed to the main room and saw a couple of good magicians and one very funny, very cool magician. Chairman and his mother both got picked to volunteer on the same illusion together so that was nice for them. His mother had a grand time and was thrilled to actually be at the Castle. Kurt, as always, was a charming, informed host and I even learned a few new things this time around. We unfortunately only got to see the show in the one room before we had to take off to go to see the Piper Downs at Molly Malones but not before stopping in the lobby and taking a photo of all of us.



Got to Molly Malones ahead of Chairman and his mom and, luckily, the band was still setting up. The place was sadly fairly empty but the band sounded great, as usual. The Piper Downs are all friends of Chairman’s as they’re all from Virginia Beach and so it became a birthday show for Chairman from the start. They even asked him to join them on stage and sing with them, which was very special. Chairman’s on the far left of the picture in the brown shirt.



The band were all dressed in costume and it was difficult to look at Yell dressed in this inflatable oversized, underdressed woman body thing. Ellen was adorable as a lion. Garner was the Punisher and Bobby was this chef kind of thing. They played a very long set, more than an hour, mainly due to the fact that there was no band following them and it was only their friends in the audience. Chairman kept shouting out requests – which is usually how the Downs works anyway – so he got to hear everything he wanted.

As a side note, my ego got stroked nicely with very lovely compliments from the guys and one very funny, sexy growl from Chairman. Bobby even referred to me as the “hot chick” Chairman brought with him. And a limo driver honked at me as I walked to my car.

Chairman’s mom is a very lovely woman and very funny. I can see where he gets his personality from. She really enjoyed the Castle and bopped along with the Downs at the club. I’m looking forward to chatting with her more on Thursday when I catch up with them at a screening of Chairman’s short film, “A Fairly Tale.”

All in all, a very lovely, fun, silly, enjoyable night, celebrating with my favorite guy and his mom. (Did I say "lovely" enough?)

Looking forward to tonight...

I’m looking forward to tonight because I get to spend it with my dearest Chairman on his birthday. We’re heading up to the Magic Castle to meet our friend, Kurt, who will play host for the night. And I’ll get a chance to meet Chairman’s mother, who’s in town for his birthday. After that, we’re going to try to catch a band that he introduced me to who I am crazy about - The Piper Downs. The cool thing is that you have to get all dolled up to go to the Magic Castle – evening dress kind of thing. It’s so much fun to get all dressed up, go have a good dinner then watch some of the finest magicians in the world perform. It’s a private club so it’s hard to get into unless you have connections. I haven’t been to the Castle in a while and I’m really looking forward to it.

It makes me think of where I was a year ago, when I ventured into the Great Blonde Experiment and we were looking forward to Las Vegas, which turned out to be more fun than I ever imagined it could be. Hard to believe that a year has passed. Time is just flying by.

And I feel like things are maybe heading into motion again. Nothing’s really changed since my frustrated blog but I feel that there is change in the air – after all, Mercury is in retrograde (whatever that means) and that usually makes thing move. It’s not always for the better but at least motion is motion.

So I’m off to get in the shower so I’ll smell pretty then take some time to get myself presentable. Zadra was my wardrobe advisor last night and I’m glad she helped me pick something that will actually be warm tonight. It’s cool here, for LA, and the black dress I’m wearing won’t require a coat or jacket.

Hopefully, I’ll grab a couple of pictures tonight and get them posted quickly.

Somebody stop me...

I’m on a romantic comedy binge. Okay, so it’s only two RomCom’s I’ve watched tonight but, considering the fact that I lack the “chick flick” gene, two is a binge. Also considering the fact that my DVD collection contains more action and violence than the average woman’s – my favs being “Fight Club”, “Snatch,” and “Kill Bill” (prefer Volume 2) – my RomCom choices are usually odd and eccentric – “Benny and Joon”, “High Fidelity” and “Gross Pointe Blank.” I only have a couple of “traditional” RomCom’s so I’ve had to rely on Time Warner Cable to fill in the blanks.

I guess what I’m looking for is answers to my current, chronic, stupid situation. I know nothing about dating. I know nothing about starting a relationship. I know nothing about dealing with the opposite sex. And somehow I figure I’ll glean something from “Notting Hill” and “My Best Friend’s Wedding.” Maybe buried deep in the light, fluffy scripts are the secrets to how to successfully navigate the waters that I am currently dog-paddling in.

Or maybe I just want to lose myself in the fantasy that one can fall in love with their best friend and actually have it turn into something (okay, I know that doesn’t happen in Best Friend’s Wedding but…) or that you can meet someone that is a total stranger and just feel that connection and have him show up somewhere unexpected and say something so wonderfully charming and darling that you totally lose your heart.

Maybe if I study how these women behave in these things, it’ll give me a clue as to how to proceed with the stupid men in my life. Should I toss out the “I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy” speech, or chase down my best friend in a stolen bread truck?

Maybe RomCom’s are the reason I am unsuccessful. The women in these always fall immediately in love and intensely in love. Very few of them are casual, approach the relationship as anything but something special and marvelous and amazing. And I’ve come to the conclusion lately that I approach most relationships that way, whether it’s a friendship or something more. I am not capable of casual and I think maybe that scares the shit out of men. Someone who I cared about deeply who left my life unexpectedly once said something about my being “too much” sometimes and I never really understood what he meant. I think I do now. I think that I love intensely and deeply, whether it’s my friends or more. I expect that kind of devotion in return, in many of my relationships, and I think most people are willing to give that back, to a point.

But it’s that “point” that I think I don’t get. If I care about you, I CARE about you. I don’t know how to do that in small letters, only capital ones. I am not the type of just take things casually and let them breeze by. I am passionate and intense and fierce and I began to think lately that maybe I need to change that.

Then I came to the conclusion that that’s bullshit. This is me. If I’m “too much,” it’s because you can’t handle all of the affection and devotion that I am capable of – and that’s your loss. Sometimes, it is my loss because I do lose myself by giving too much occasionally. I’m trying ot reign that in a bit.

But I am the RomCom heroine who is going to steal the bread truck and chase you down, I am the heroine who will say stupid things, if you give me enough time, I am the heroine who will bond with your roller skating dog and fall in love with someone in a coma and confess my soul to them. That is the beauty of me.

Maybe we women should be more than casual, give men a chance to experience us at full volume, instead of cheating ourselves out of that passion, out of that commitment, out of that depth of feeling. Sure, it hurts like hell when it’s not returned or when it finally ends, as it usually must. But I’d rather hurt like hell and know that I gave someone everything I had than only whimper and know that I protected myself so much that they didn’t get the full force of me. Even in friendships, even in the friendship I lost, I don’t regret giving him what I did because I know I did it because he was that important to me, important enough for me to unleash the whole force of me upon him. And I guess that was too much for him to handle. But I wouldn’t have done it any other way.

So for tonight, I’ll observe Julia Roberts and adore the intensity that is her character and see if I can channel some of that into this current situation. And, maybe in the end, I’ll get the cute guy or the best friend or whoever I am supposed to end up with, and he will appreciate and accept the intensity that is me.

Promises and frustration

These past few weeks have been full of things being dangled in front of me and then… well… I don’t know. Not even pulled away but just not materializing. Not that they’re not there, there is just no forward movement. Just limbo.

One thing did end up coming to a halt and I am disappointed but, in the long run, it’s probably for the best. I can now concentrate on the things that are very important to me and not spend time trying to coddle someone through something that they are not ready for.

But the lab at the Ark was basically put on the back burner and I was completely indecisive about whether to go forward or not on it due to frustrating circumstances of lack of commitment on the part of one particular person and then just not being able to finalize a cast. Not completely done but not moving forward.

Then… well… men. Just don’t get them. Cute Guy appeared again last night, never leaving my side, sending enormous signals, very warm and fuzzy feelings. Then left at the end of the night with “see ya next week.” And OOMA suddenly hovering around the edges whenever Cute Guy is around but withdrawing a bit when Cute Guy is not around. Not completely done but not moving forward.

Then an opportunity with my side business came up over the weekend. I’ve contacted the person about this possibility, which would solve a number of my financial problems, but have not heard back from her. Not completely done but not moving forward.

Been dealing a great deal with my feelings about my ex. That seems to be the only place I can move forward, is really acknowledging how damaged I felt in the last few years of our relationship. I find it easier to talk about rather than give a polite answer to protect him. From what I’ve heard, he’s still the same, still doing the same thing, still being the same person he was that I left. So I don’t necessarily need to be polite as he continues to demonstrate why I needed to leave him. Yet, occasionally, at times like this particularly when I am stuck in limbo, I have fleeting thoughts of wondering if I should have stayed, should have tried harder to work it out, should have given it another month or two or six because, after 16 years of being together, didn’t we deserve more than a year? That thought doesn’t last very long, particularly when I do look at all that I have gained in the past year, but it still does surface.

I just feel a bit like I’m being tossed around on the ocean, seeking some land to sink my feet into, even a sand bar at this point. I can see a faint horizon line in the distance and something that looks like land but I can’t quite get there.

I guess I’ll cling on to the small life raft I have fashioned and paddle like hell and hope that I can reach shore before I capsize.

Potentiality...

Not sure where this is gonna go, so hang on.

First, did the Melrose Trading Post today. It’s a swap meet/flea market in Hollywood. Didn’t do so well monetarily but a huge potential order is hanging out there in the wind. Cross your fingers. It could set me up for the rest of the year.

Second, the potential that wasn’t. Cute Boy never called. Don’t need a book to tell me “he’s just not that into me.” Not surprised, a bit disappointed but, oh, well, I’ll live.

Third, I sat at the coffee shop the other day and thought about my life five years into the future. Where do I want to be? What could I see? What could I feel? The first thought was peace. I felt peaceful, content, settled in the best way possible. I saw a beautiful room I was sitting in, looking out a large window into nature. Not sure if it was the beach or just a beautiful sight. But peaceful came to me again. Quiet. Tranquil. Sanctuary was another word that kept coming to me. I saw a porch/patio that was a haven where I could retreat and meditate, write, think, be. No distractions, no disturbances.

At first, I saw myself alone, but that was okay. It was just me and my thoughts and my life and my space. No threats, no drama, no judgments. Just me. That made me sad for a moment but then I thought, well, if that’s what it takes to have peace and tranquility, then alone it will be. I saw my friends and a wondrous life of fun and frivolity as well as depth and compassion with those close to me, and that gave me enormous comfort. Being alone by choice is one thing, being alone against your choice is another. So if it was my choice to be alone, then so be it.

Then, there was music. Beautiful, organic music. Not recorded, but somebody playing music in the home. I can’t even tell you what type of music it was – piano, guitar. Not sure. But I could hear it and I was warmed and touched by it. Again, tranquil, peace, contentment. Beautiful, lovely, peaceful music that surrounded me with love and joy and comfort. Soon, two arms found their way around my shoulders and the whole picture was complete. Someone who could give me peace, who could allow me contentment without being threatened by it, someone who could share the sanctuary without trying to wrest it from me. Someone who was the other half of my whole.

That was scary as I didn’t think I would find another half ever. And it felt good and fine and just about the way I want the next go-round to be. Comfortable, sharing, warm, simple. I realize no relationship is really easy but sometimes we make it more difficult than it has to be.

I know what I want out of the men in my future – someone real, someone honest, someone vulnerable, someone with respect, someone with an emotional soul. I don’t want to have to drag feelings and thoughts out of someone anymore. You MUST want to share with me, otherwise, what’s the point? On that same point, you MUST want me to share with you. Two-way street.

I want someone who can hold my hand as I grow and let me take their hand and let them grow. I want minimum drama. I want honesty – but honesty doesn’t have to be harsh. Honesty can be that - honesty. I want to find someone I can talk to, can tell anything to, without judgment, without value being placed on it. And I want to return the same to him.

I want someone who I want to include in my life, not someone who just happens to be there, which is what I think happened with my ex. He was there, he wasn’t what my first husband was so, therefore, he must be better. And, for a while, he was. But I never thought about 16 years into the future, what that would mean.

I want those warm arms and that wondrous music to fill my life. I want that contentment and that comfort and that sanctuary. It’s a ways into the future but at least now, I can see it, I can feel it, I can grasp it. And maybe by naming it and sensing it, I can find it.

yuck.

Head cold finally caught up to me, which I'm sure is coloring everything today.

Left Koji’s last night feeling particularly alone and lonely, despite having a wonderful time and singing the hell out of “All That Jazz.”

Woke up to my cable being turned off and spending every last penny I have to get it turned back on.

My gas tank is empty.

The only "food" in the house is leftover take-out spaghetti from last night and mini-sized Peanut M&M's.

Hey, on the bright side, there’s nowhere else to go but up.

My birthday destination...

So, in April, I turn 45 years old. And I'm proud of that. Zadra suggested this year that I do something amazing for my birthday and I did - I started fliming "Cinderella Drives A Pick-up." She actually suggested Mexico but the film was more important.

So 2007, some of the gals and I are planning on tripping down to Mexico in June probably (my and Patty's birthday is actually April 8 but I will probably have a show up then). My key plan is to see some spectacular ruins. I have a fascination with abandoned bulidings and things - some day I'll post my deserted trailer park pics - and Teotihuacán is one of the most amazing sites I have seen. Check out Wikipedia info on http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Teotihuacan#City_Layout if you're curious (thanks, Chairman, for turning me on to Wikipedia).

Here's Teotihuacan:



Anyway, I would love to have a whole batch o'buddies with me on this trip, besides my birthday twin and my couple of usual cohorts. It's not gonna be terribly cheap but I'm already looking for deals. To be honest, I'd sleep on the beach or camp out under the stars if it meant I could go. 2005/2006 has been difficult and amazing and fulfilling and empty and promising and disappointing all at the same time. I want something incredible for 2007. And this seems like a good place to start.

Maybe some handsome guy (who will hold my hand in public ;), right, Monica?) will decide to join me and make this the most memorable birthday of my life. Now taking applications...

Finally found what I wanted to say…

It’s been an interesting couple of weeks. I kept trying to blog about it but couldn’t find the words. I kept finding myself writing then rewriting what I wanted to say so I would finally just stop.

I think maybe I have finally figured out what I wanted to say.

I am an exceptional woman. Now, wait. Hear me out. I am just really discovering the value of myself, something I have struggled with for years. I talk a good game and I have become very certain about my value as a director and as a writer but until recently, I haven’t been able to place that value on Susan, the woman. Susan, the woman, didn’t have an identity three years ago. Susan, the woman, almost died one night because she didn’t know who she was supposed to be to make everybody happy. She didn’t know that the one person she had to make happy was herself in order to make everybody else happy.

Even with making my own life this past year and a half, I still have struggled with finding out who Susan, the woman, is. Sometimes, I can see her very clearly and very distinctly. I like what she looks like. She wears very cool clothes and incredible boots. Jeans, usually, but something about the outfit is confident and sexy and feminine. That’s the person I want to see looking back at me. An exceptional woman.

Usually, I see the 30 lbs. at least that I need to lose. I see the frizzy ends of my hair. I see the deep lines around my eyes that give away my age. I see the calloused and cracked and unattractive feet. I see the wounds around the edges that have been inflicted by years of neglect and denial. I see the sadness and the doubt and the confusion. I rarely see the exceptional woman in the cool clothes with the incredible boots.

And I try to superimpose an idea of the exceptional woman that is not true over the insecure, fearful and timid woman that I feel I am most of the time. I realize this the most when I’m dealing with a man who I have strong feelings for. I try to figure out which type of exceptional woman he would be drawn to – young, thin, blond, perky, young, thin, redhead, flirty – and I find myself seriously lacking in that kind of exceptional. Then begins the process of devaluation. I am not worth anything because I am not 25 years old. No wonder he’s not able to see me as date-able. I’m not 25, 110 lbs. and flirty. I’m past my prime, I should just give up and go sit in the corner and wear baggy shirts and comfy jeans and realize that I am not exceptional in the way that I think he thinks I should be.

Yet, as I’ve begun to discover and accept recently, I am never more attractive and never more exceptional than when I am just me, whatever that means. I struggle with accepting that because I accepted previously that being just me wasn’t enough. My relationship with this man is never better than it is when I am just me. Doesn’t matter which me I am. His eyes reflect his affection for me when I just get out of my own way, quit trying to figure out who I’m supposed to be and just be me. Wow. So simple. And it’s when our friendship and our relationship is at its best. I should know this by now, you’d think. But, again, I never accepted that just me is enough.

Because just me is complicated. I never thought complicated could mean exceptional. I always thought exceptional was singularly perfect, without complications, without variety. Exceptional was one single type of perfect. A standard that I could never live up to because I accepted the fact that I was imperfect and valueless and complicated.

But I am beginning to understand that my complications, my complexities, my seeking and struggling and fighting and crying and wounds and sorrow and joy and laughter and all that depth of feelings and emotions is exactly what makes me exceptional. I FEEL. Without those feelings, without those complexities, exceptional doesn’t exist. It exists because of them. Anger drives the exceptional. Fear drives the exceptional. Emotion drives the exceptional. Passion drives the exceptional.

That cold, surface, plastic, presentable face that I see all around me, that I thought was my “competition,” what I had to live up to, is nothing but emptiness and the ordinary and the unexceptional. So she’s 25. When you’re ready to deal with a real woman, a real person, a real exceptional human being who can be so much more than just a face and a body and eye candy, then you come talk to me. When you’re ready to deal with your own feelings, your own foibles, your own demons, you come talk to me. When you’re ready to be exceptional, you come talk to me.

Even as I take very tiny little cautious baby steps towards someone new, I can feel the questioning begin – who do I have to be for him to love me? And I heard the answer loud and clear the other day as this thought was lingering around the edges.

I have to be Susan, the woman. Flawed, fallible, complicated, complex, exceptional me. And I wasn’t afraid anymore.

Hmmm...

Words for tonight…

Slut (not me)
Frustration
“Chicago”
"LA Woman"
Yum-my
Snuggly
Promising

I can’t seem to stop smiling…

Hmmmm….

So...

I will miss your smile, your dimples, your laugh. All the things that…

But I will miss your stormy eyes most of all. And the way you made my heart leap every time you walked into the room.

But I’m just completing the distance you have placed there.

And...

I know how I would write the end to tonight.

But you’re not John Cusack.

And I’m not Sandra Bullock.

And there are no funny, funky sidekicks to tell you the truth.

And life is not romantic nor a comedy. It’s Survivor. It’s the Surreal Life. It’s where bonds are made and then broken, leaving even friendships in tatters behind as the one voted off packs their bags and quietly leaves the island/hotel room/whatever.

And there are no end credits and no songs sung by Peabo Bryson. Just silence.

One look...

He has the ability to level me with just one look. He has this way – across the room, his stormy eyes catching my gaze, no smile, no frown, just a look. His eyes lock with mine and there is nothing in the room but the two of us. God, it sounds like a romance novel but it’s true. There’s nothing but the air and the breath and the look. His haunted eyes. Wanting, needing, begging for something that I don’t think he can even define. Lost. I can’t look away and neither can he. We’re both lost in a moment that neither of us can define.

And I want to reach out to him, cradle his face in my hands, kiss his forehead and tell him it will all be all right, him and me, the world, the hurt, the pain, the life – it will all be okay if he will just let it be.

The breath stretches to an eternity and, occasionally, we each take a step, as we did last night, towards one and the other. The world shifts, accommodating that step, taking the breath with us as we move that one single step. His mouth opens just a bit, just enough to almost allow a sound out, one more breath out, then he chooses to close it, unable to let the word slip out with the breath. I’ve lost mine, waiting to hear the word, waiting to hear something, holding my breath, as he does as well.

Then he breathes out and the moment is lost. The world crowds in, the noise drowns out what he might have said, what he would have said, if he could have just held his breath with me for one single moment longer. But he breathes and he blinks and he tears his gaze away, looking back into reality, choosing to not get lost with me in that one indefinable moment.

And I don’t breathe out yet, hoping that he’ll catch his breath again and return to my eyes and maybe give me a syllable of what he holds in his eyes. But he turns and he is gone, not physically but emotionally, taking whatever words might have lingered, if he would have just let them escape. I watch his back move away, being swallowed up by those around, and I catch my breath, afraid to move, hoping he’ll turn around. But he doesn’t. And I breathe again, wishing to be breathless with his look again.

And, eventually, he does it again… and again… and again…

“I saw them standing there pretending to be just friends, when all the time in the world could not pry them apart.” - Brian Andreas, storypeople.com

Sanctuary comes to an end…

The woman I have been subletting from returns from her adventures today. So, for at least a short time, until I move or she goes out on another adventure, I will have a roommate again. A roommate I know really nothing about. She seems like a very nice, private, quiet woman and I hope that impression is correct.

It’s been a particularly hard couple of weeks, dealing with my father and knowing that there are huge transitions coming up. I think I’m at my limit with transitions but there is really nothing I can do about these ones.

I’m struggling to see the positives right now. My roomie may be temporary. The move with my parents is the best thing for all involved, taking pressure off my parents, will probably help me financially as I won’t have to pay for everything myself. And the time with my father will be invaluable.

But this whole year and a bit has been so transitory. Just when I start to feel like I’m settled, things shift drastically. Even moving in with my parents may be temporary, depending on my father’s health. When he is no longer here, my mother plans on moving back to upstate New York to be with her sisters. I think that’s a great idea. She has been away from them for most of her adult life and I know she would love to be able to spend the rest of her life with them, in her hometown. I will miss her terribly but I’m glad that’s her plan.

I can never be grateful enough for these past four months in this apartment. It has been such a pleasure to be able to entertain the way I’ve always wanted to. I loved being able to invite the girls over at the last minute to just hang out. The short film festival (also known as Chairman B. appreciation night) was a delight. Being able to rehearse in my living room made a huge difference for “Earnest.” And just the peace and quiet, which at times was hard to deal with, gave me time to listen to myself, acknowledge and begin to deal with the clowns in my head, and allowed me the time to just be.

So, although I am sad to see this quiet end, I’m hoping that the time with the “new” roomie will prove valuable, as my time with Tiffany did, and that the changes and transitions over the next few months will prove to be fulfilling and amazing and leave me in the place where I’m supposed to be.

In your hands...

I’ve never been good at leaving things in your hands. I know you’re omniscient and all that. I know you’ve got the blueprint for my life and are trying to show me the path to follow for that blueprint. But I also know that the detours along the way can surprise both of us, although you always are ahead of me and leave me bread crumbs.

I know I’m supposed to trust. I know I’m supposed to let you run things. But I’ve never been good at letting anybody run things around me. And maybe that’s the lesson you’re trying to give me right now.

My life has been so chaotic, it’s been hard to know what to trust, who to trust, how to trust. Are my feelings sent from you or are they distractions meant to keep me off the path? Is my instinct real or is it just an illusion, created by the clowns, designed to keep me off balance, keep me guessing? Or am I to trust it implicitly and hope that wherever it leads me is where I am supposed to be?

I guess I’m questioning now because there is so much unknown about to descend on me and I’m not sure I can handle it all. I’ve handled enough this year, thank you very much, and I’m not sure how much more I can handle. I have no balance recently, no footing, and it’s unnerving.

And with matters of the heart, they’re so hard and confusing and messy that it’s hard to see the truth that is there. I have a truth, he has a truth, others see what they think is the truth and somewhere in there is what really is the truth. How do I get to that? I think I know what my instinct tells me and what my heart tells me but is that what you want me to hear? Or am I not hearing you and just being stubborn, banging my head against the wall, as I am wont to do. All I know is that I end up wounded and confused and angry and so many other things, thinking I’m trusting you and letting you show me the way when maybe I’m interfering with you and your plan. If I am, please let me know because this is an area that I am tired of not trusting in.

And the fits of blatant honesty have not gone away. That worries me. Is that from you as well? Is this the way you’re trying to get me to face things, just actually tell the truth about what I feel, how I feel and what I think? Oh, please don’t make me do that. Nobody does that. It leads to actually finding things out, letting things out, showing your heart and your soul without any coverage, without any pretense. I used to know how to be like that, I’m way out of practice now. But you seem determined to not let me hide behind those things anymore, at least right now, which makes it very scary for me. I’m not sure what’s going to come out of my mouth, and I guess I’m supposed to trust that you’re behind me, playing Cyrano and whispering in my ear. If that’s so, then I hope I hear you correctly.

I just know that I’m tired of guessing, I’m tired of working so hard to figure things out, I’m tired of the not knowing, the not seeing, the not having. And I guess that’s what always leads us humans to say – here you go. I can’t do this anymore. I need you. Could you please help me? And that’s what I’m asking. Please help me. Here are my burdens. You know them. We’ve spoken often about them. I’m giving them to you, for you to see, for you to help me find the solution.

Send me a note when you have something for me. I’m on Myspace. I look forward to hearing from you. Thanks for listening.

Watch "Inked" tonight

Set your Tivo's. My episode of "Inked" airs tonight at 10:00 PM (or check your local listings). Watch me get my tattoos from the cutest tattoo artist in North America, Joey, at Hart & Huntington in Las Vegas. Many of you know I had this done in January of this year and I just happened to discover that it's airing tonight. So tune in to A&E and watch. Also, go to aetv.com/inked and watch the preview, which is a glimpse of my interview.

(Check out my original blog about that day!)

A wildly wondrously sensuous day…

And it’s not over yet.

Spent the daylight hours savoring life with a few truly incredible friends.

Monica, Chairman, Al and I (with Beki briefly and assorted friends o’Al) spent the afternoon meandering through the San Genarro Festival in Hollywood, near Hollywood and Highland. And it was a delight for all of my senses. It is a festival of all things Italian – music, food, clothing, everything.

First, the scent. Walking up Highland, I could smell the garlic and spices. Although Monica and I had just eaten, trying to save money by not eating at the festival, I started to salivate as we got closer. Once we got into the festival, the salivary glands went into overdrive. Sausage, garlic, onion, pasta, tomato, pastry… I didn’t know where to look, where to smell, what to eat first. And we ate. Oh, my god, did we eat.

Monica and I found Al and Chairman joined us a short time later, as did Beki. We walked down the food-way and all of us picked up something to eat. Al and Chairman did a sausage thing that was to die for. Then Al picked up this almondy-nougat-y thing and I picked up some roasted corn on the cob. There was something else but I cannot remember what. My favorite memory of this afternoon is all of five us, each with some type of food in our hands, passing our food stuffs around, sharing nibbles of corn and sausage and canoli and not caring who bit into what and whether or not it was sanitary and whose spit was getting on the corn. It was the most amazing moment of just pure pleasure, sharing these things with friends, savoring life, savoring food, savoring our intimate connection. I loved that moment. I don’t know Beki very well and Al has been in and out of my life for the past 15 years but there was never a hesitation amongst any of about sharing our spoils. I loved that moment.

It was also not only wondrous for the taste buds, but for the touch as well. We all had sugar and butter and grease and sausage and stuff drooling down our arms and faces and hands. Much licking of fingers and smacking of lips was enjoyed. I still smell like corn and butter and sugar.






Then we found a table after Beki left and the four of us just sat and listened to an old Italian man sing old Italian songs somewhat badly but enthusiastically. We either traded stories or we just sat in silence, as good friends are wont to do. It was a treat for the ears, listening to the sounds and the corny music and the conversation around us.




As we sat, the sun shone down on us with just enough power to keep us warm and cozy as we tried to digest our feast. Some of Al’s friends joined us and we chatted for a while longer, enjoying the breeze that came up as the evening went along. Chairman had to leave us to go do his show tonight and much hugging and warmth was exchanged as he left. Monica and I left shortly thereafter, but not without stopping for even more corn and canolis and stuff on our way out. I won’t have to eat for a week.




Of course, tonight there is a party, where I will be heading shortly, after I lie on the floor for a while and try not to burst, keep Twyla company for a bit, and then try to wash off the scents of the afternoon.

But Monica and I agreed – this is what life is about. Savoring the life in front of you. Savoring the friendships and the experiences that you all bring to each other. I simply enjoyed savoring the simplicity of good friends, good food and good day. Sometimes, life gets to complicated, it’s hard to be grateful for the simplicity of existence without struggle. Today, most definitely was that kind of day.

Looking forward to more sensory stimulation tonight, as the party should have its own set of experiences. I hope I get enough reset between now and then to tackle some more savoring.

Whip and chair time...

I’ve been holding the clowns off this week with a whip and a chair. It’s been a long week and hard to keep them at bay.

It’s really made me think about where they come from and what drives their little car, particularly in light of the last few days.

The week began with the birthday dinner and the attendance of my ex. Already covered that. But the feelings of anger and disassociation from things lingered all week, triggering bouts of blatant honesty, both with myself and those close to me (sorry, Zadra). I almost bit my tongue off a number of times to stop myself from saying exactly what I thought about choices others have made in their lives and the way that they handle themselves in social situations. I don’t know if it was lingering backlash of all the things I wish I had dumped on my ex or the fact that I couldn’t hide from the mirror in my head, reflecting all of my own choices back at me and making me contemplate the intelligence of them. I realized that it was a fun house mirror and the clowns were propping it up, hoping that I wouldn’t find them back there. But I did last night and they seemed to have beat a hasty retreat, their shoes making little flapping noises as they escaped.

What’s got me focused on the clowns, though, is the fact that I’m beginning to recognize the pattern of their appearances and am trying to figure out better how to keep them at bay. They seem to like to pick on my indefinable relationship at this point, seeking to undermine it and make me doubt it constantly. Their pattern of appearance seems to be deep, black depression followed by intense anger and bitterness followed by indigo melancholy and utter inability to appreciate anything good about my life. Throw in real life situations, such as my father falling Thursday and fracturing his shoulder, and there’s the circus. (Dad’s fine – the fracture is very clean and he’ll be in a sling for a month but he’s miraculously in no pain and worried about his golf swing.)

I understand where the insecurities that the clown leap upon come from. Being from a family of aggressive overachievers in one field and daring to break off into another, always feeling like I’m on the outside of things, both in family and when I was young and in school, my two marriages. I get it. I know the insecurities and I fight hard against them.

But what I need to look at is the irrational way the clowns go after this one particular relationship. They are responsible for triggering 90% of the ramblings on this blog about this relationship because it’s their focus when they move in. It’s probably because this is the most significant man in my life at the moment and therefore the easiest target. All women are insecure about their relationships with men, whether it’s one they’ve got or one they want, and it’s just an easy target. So it makes sense that when I’m feeling vulnerable and lost, they would pounce on everything he says and does and blow it completely out of proportion. This poor man has been the victim of my moods and my insanity so much in the last year, yet he’s still there, smiling at me, making me laugh, not afraid to lock his sea green eyes with mine and see what’s going on in my head. Every time I think I’ve managed to push him away with something irrational that the clowns have concocted, he’s still there.

That doesn’t mean it’s easy being around him. My feelings are still complicated and unresolved but most days, those are manageable because I’m very glad to have his friendship. But it’s weeks like this, when all of those complicated feelings seem to be on steroids (provided in oversized clown needles with brightly colored liquid) and these ridiculous scenarios get written in my head about him.

Last night was particularly difficult as it involved him, my ex, and a group of people who associate mostly with my ex and not me anymore. But I wanted to lend my support to his new project and be there for him, as he has been for me so much in the last year. But the clowns grabbed the leg of the chair I had been holding them back with and tried to wrest it from my hand. When I arrived at the venue, I ran into my ex’s new girlfriend, which was fine, but weird. Then the clownish whispers told me I didn’t belong there, I should leave because it was going to be difficult and cold and awful. I called Zadra to talk me off the ledge until Monica got there to keep me from the edge. All day, the whispers had been building about how he probably didn’t want me there, I meant nothing to him, I was kidding myself to think there was even just friendship there, that he tolerates my presence because he doesn’t know how to tell me to go away. Really horrible, insidious words floating through my head, almost preventing me from going. But I cracked the whip and they receded a step or tow.

But, as always, the night was great. He was great and I was very proud of him, as always. And afterwards, he couldn’t have been more of what I love about him and our friendship – sweet, charming, introducing me and Monica to everybody, avoiding contact with me ex when I was in the vicinity. He has walked the tightrope between me and my ex quite skillfully. I went home last night reassured that our friendship was still there, still strong, still one of the best things in my life, regardless of what else there is that I would like from him.

What I want to examine in the days ahead is how and why the clowns attack this relationship. what motivates them to undermine this friendship and have a field day with it. I managed to just barely keep them back with the metaphoric whip and chair this week but it was hard. I heard everything they said but tried to overcome it with my rational self, weighing everything they said with evidence to the contrary. I didn’t always succeed but it made me really aware of how subtly they slip in when I’m not paying attention.

So I want to focus this week on how to exorcise these little pasty-faced tormentors and banish them to Siberia. I want to chase them away from this relationship and just enjoy it, whatever shape it is in. I resent that I constantly find myself questioning it and trying to manipulate it. I have to learn how to control those irrational elements and reason them back to sanity. I know that if I really wanted something more from this relationship, I could take steps to make it happen but I am not ready to yet. So I need to learn to work on being ready for a relationship, enjoying his company and his friendship, and allow that to take its course instead of giving into the clownish rantings in my head and almost allow them to destroy something that is very dear and very precious to me.

Rough day...

Days like these
make me long for
two strong arms
to hold me
to enfold me
and tell me,
“It’s okay,
you can let go now,
I’ll catch you
and keep you
until you can stand again.”

Less than...

Why do we settle for less than? Less than what we want, less than what we need, less than what we require to live? We, as women, in particular seem to have that down pat. I have two friends right now involved in comfortable relationships that are not feeding them but they are there because they are. They both know these relationships are limited in their duration, limited in their fulfillment, limited in what they can do for them, yet they both remain, willing to accept less than for now because it’s better than not having at all.

I’m not judging them. It’s their lives. They can live them any way they want to. It just makes me sad and frustrated and angry that we have learned that settling for less than what we want is acceptable.

I have no sway to talk. I have settled for a non-existent relationship with a reluctant non-participant and wasted countless hours and days and weeks pondering and planning and accepting less than because there is nothing else in my life. Personally, nothing else in my life. I am uncompromising when it comes to my creative life but that hasn’t carried over into my personal life. I stand and declare that I am a solitary warrior, possessing my life completely and controlling it absolutely. That’s such bullshit. If that were true, would his picture be everywhere in my apartment when there is nothing there but friendship? Would I tolerate being told we’re just friends but yet hanging on to those ambiguous feelings that float between us? Would I allow him to continue to be non-committal and controlling the situation to his advantage if I were truly a warrior and truly in control? God, no. I have accepted less than because I chose to. Because it was better than having nothing and no one.

I’m not sure if less than comes from that fear, that fear of having no one, of having to be all to ourselves, without having someone to reflect our lives back at us. We all have friends and we all have people who love us and support us. But even from them, we don’t usually accept less than. Someone crosses a line or pisses us off, we tend to end that friendship or cut that person out of our lives. But when it comes to those closest to us – usually our lovers, our significant others, our other halfs to ourselves – we cannot draw that line, we cannot take that control. Instead, we try not to rock the boat and we accept what is given us, even when it is so inferior to what we really require.

I guess I’m still full of anger and resentment from this weekend but it’s more than that. It makes me look at the years of my marriage, the times I knew that I was not getting what I needed to survive, the times I gave in just because I was too fucking tired to argue anymore. I let him control things because I couldn’t fight with him about it anymore. I gave in because I didn’t know there was another choice. And there was. And it may have ended our relationship sooner had I been able to stand up and say, hey, asshole, that’s not right, that’s not fair, that’s not what I want/need/desire to have in my life. Your treatment of me is not feeding me. Your constant negativity is not feeding me. Your whole presence in my life at this point is less than and it’s made my presence in your life less than and we both deserve better.

We desire to have more than’s in our lives. We desire to have those that feed us and nurture us and make us feel like we’re overflowing with more than. Because being given more than makes us give more than. And, for a time, I was getting more than from the current obsession but, somewhere along the line, I wanted more than he is able to give. And that makes me angry and frustrated and confused and I end up hanging around, settling for less than, waiting to see if more than is around the corner. And, you know what? It’s probably not.

And realizing that more than is not there is the hardest thing in the world because do we walk away from less than to nothing? Do we leave that security and that consistency and that comfort for nothing? It’s hard to see that there may be more than out there, if we could just let less than go and put it behind us in pursuit of more than. But the pursuit of more than is extremely difficult and lonely and empty on the way. And more than doesn’t always manifest itself in the way that we desire and, I think, sometimes we miss it and have to wait for it to come around again.

I had a brief glimpse of more than until I screwed it up on my own. And it was wonderful. To have someone make you feel like you can conquer the world, that you can do no wrong, that you will be caught should you misstep and fall, there is nothing like it in the world. To catch a glimpse of more than makes me understand why we sometimes settle for less than, hoping that it will turn into something more. Maybe we get glimpses of it and we think that if we just hold on, more than will come. But, in my case, my timing sucked and I think I blew what could have been, causing me to wait around, hoping to get back on the carousel, find the more than again, and do it right this time.

But I am back to realizing that I need more than in my life and I deserve more than. And that may mean really leaving the less than behind and sacrificing something with the potential for almost enough to take the chance that something more than is waiting out there for me. I gave up a life of less than and I shouldn’t settle for it again. And, if it comes to this, it will break my heart to walk away from less than because he has been so much to me. But I deserve more. And so does he. And, for a brief moment, I thought that we could be that for each other. But I don’t want to become what I see my friends becoming – someone who takes less than rather than risk seeking for more. I started on this path over a year ago and I guess I’m meant to keep trodding it. I just hope that I find something soon. The path is awfully empty right now.

Discretion sucks…

Earlier this morning (or very late Sunday night), I put up a blog about a fuck-headed thing my ex had done at a party we both attended last night. Reader’s Digest version – with a multitude of choices of where to sit, he chose to sit pretty much right in front of me, with his new girlfriend, knowing I don’t want to be “friends” or have anything to do with him. I chose to very politely find a way to move from the place I had been sitting in for over an hour before he arrived and try to be discreet about my moving places, since he was too stupid or ignorant or just plain idiotic to realize that his choice of seating was going to be a problem.

I wrote a very long blog about how I felt, about not being polite about him anymore, about accepting and embracing my anger and not allowing his treatment of me to go on unspoken.

I did the smart thing. I wrote the blog, I walked away from it for a while, I read and re-read it, because it was very harsh and very honest and very open and exactly what I wanted to say.

I posted it.

Then I took it down.

Blogs are a funny thing and I have been bitten in the ass by other people’s blogs and hurt very badly by their angry tirades and cruel, hurtful intents (by the way, happy birthday). I realized that this blog would just be one of those blogs. A blog that could hurt someone very badly, even though that’s exactly what I wanted it to do. I wanted him to be angry and frustrated and hurt by my words because I had been hurt by his actions, not just tonight but throughout the last years of our marriage.

But vicious, angry, nasty blogs never accomplish what you think they will. They feed the anger out in the universe and they inevitably bite you in the ass and inflict more injury and pain and hurt than one could ever imagine when they post something that like. It feels so good when you write it out and see it on the screen in front of you. But if you don’t think about what your words are going to do when the person you direct them at reads them – and, trust me, they will read them or somebody will read them to the person – then you are irresponsible and reckless and careless. My angry, bitter blog about how he made me feel tonight might inflict a significant amount of injury on him and create distance between some of his friends and myself, who I may still want to retain a relationship with. While I may rejoice in the fact that he would be wounded and injured and harmed by what I wrote, I would be no better than him to post my initial version.

If you know me, you may realize how hard this is for me to write. I am a big believer in free speech. My last short film was about just that. I think people should have the right to say whatever they want, that’s your right, that’s the American Way… theoretically.

But that does not give us permission to virtually reach out and slap someone across the face. If I want to let him know what an ass he was tonight, I should do it in person and not here. If I want to inflict pain on him, I could find a way to do it privately and not share it with all of you. If I want to unleash my anger on him, I should, again, find a way to do it privately.

This blog it about me. By osmosis, I guess, it’s also about him. But that doesn’t give me permission to publish a diatribe that doesn’t serve any purpose except to injure and harm and berate. I then sink to his level with his asinine stunt tonight. I then create the same hurt feelings I have suffered from before when I have been attacked publicly about private things.

And I hope that I am a better person than that. I can be angry, I can call my friends and rant and rave and yell and scream and say, “He’s a fuck-head and I hate him and I’m really angry.” That’s acceptable. I’m happy to tell you what happened in person when I see any of you and share my fury with you. I’d even be happy to send you a copy of the unposted blog, if you really want to read it.

But I will refrain from using this forum as a way to get back at him. Because it would accomplish nothing. It can only bring more pain, retaliation and humiliation. So I will bite my virtual tongue tonight and just let you know I am angry at him, that he was an ass tonight, and that I am very hurt right now. But the rest is private and so I will keep it to myself (virtually). I left the title up of the unpublished blog, partly because Blogger wouldn’t let me remove it and partly to remind me of what choices I made tonight.

I was told tonight that I handled the situation well. I resent that I had to, as I resent that I have to do this. But sometimes, we have no other choice than the right one. And I hope that this is it.

Discretion sucks…

(sorry but blogger is possessed tonight and published this twice!)

Do not read if you are friends with my ex…

Perfect day.

Today was about as good as it gets. Nothing big. Nothing spectacular. Just a perfect day.

Woke up around 7:30 after getting – wow – almost eight hours of sleep. A rarity in my life. Monica came by at 9:00 for coffee and shopping which turned into lunch at my favorite Chinese place and ended around 2:30. We talked about men and sex and men and love and men and gossip and men and goals and dreams and hopes and men and… you get the drift. Talked about cute men flirting. Talked about all stuff girlie.

Then I met Zadra in South Pasadena for more girlie stuff. Started at Victoria’s Secret, seeking free lip gloss out of a magazine. The only down thing of the whole day was that the lip gloss is not in stock until Wednesday. So, no new lip gloss but oh, well, we’ll have to come back. Shopped, walked, shopped some more, walked. Talked, talked, and, oh, talked some more. Sniffed soap and bath bombs at Lush – which, if you haven’t experienced it, so worth it – and I bought fabulously scented bath bomb to use at some time in the future. Shopped in the TWO STORY!!! tall Forever 21. That took almost an hour. Then we hopped in the car and went to Sephora for more girlie stuff and talking. Then ended up at Islands where I watched Zadra eat and drank my own chocolate milk shake and we, oh, talked. She eventually headed home and I headed home.

Quick shower, check of email and then off to meet my dearest Chairman at a great show called The Reunion, which features our friend, Hal Perry, and a pair of pink furry handcuffs. It’s an interactive show where you pick a character and follow them around, so that every time you go, it’s a whole different experience. We went the first time about a month ago and got addicted. Unfortunately, both of our schedules have kept us from coming back until tonight. But, as always, it was a pleasure to spend the evening with Chairman, enjoying this very funny and silly and occasionally very serious show. During intermission, guess what we did? Okay, nothing girlie… well… kinda girlie. We gossiped (okay, so he probably wouldn’t call it gossip but…) and I caught him up on stuff that happened at Koji’s after we left and what’s going on in other people’s lives. We chatted with Hal and one of the other cast members after the show then decided we’d try to catch the show once more before they close and maybe see if we can get a whole group together. A weird series of phone calls from Drew prompted another little gossip session and then we headed out, finishing the night with a warm hug from one of my favorite guys.

Chatted with Patty as a result of the calls from Drew and caught up on even more gossip. Wow, lots of gossip today. Came home to a lovely, lonely kitty, my bag of Del Taco clutched in my hungry hand, and sitcoms on TV.

It doesn’t get better than this. No drama, no struggle, nothing but the pure pleasure of living. Spending time with the people that I love the most, who have been my heart and soul and lifeline this past year. To relish the simple nothingness of the day and not feel guilty about not doing anything but be with people I love. I accomplished nothing and enjoyed every second of it.

My best friend, Kim, who called in the middle of this lovely day and just added a bit more of what I love about my life, turned me on to a new song by Carrie Underwood, called “Wasted.” Some of the lyrics would apply to me, Kim suggested. So I downloaded the song and listened to it. She was right. And the lyrics rang particularly true today, as I ended my beautiful, peaceful, joy-filled day…

“I don’t wanna spend my life jaded
Waiting to wake up one day and find
That I’ve let all these years go by
Wasted…

Oh, I don’t wanna keep on wishing, missing
But still every morning the color of the night
I ain’t spending no more time
Wasted…”

And I don’t…

Reach out and touch... somebody...

We all just wanted to be reached, connected to, touched. In spite of the walls we build, the lines we draw in the sand, the arm’s length we hold everyone at. We all just want that one person who “gets us”, whether it’s within the first ten minutes of a date or years and years of knowing someone. We just want someone we can make eye contact with across the room who will read our minds and know what we’re thinking, who will pull us in close when we need it without having to ask. Someone who has seen the baggage we lug along behind us and has gone to get a cart instead of getting on the next plane out of town.

I know it’s true for me. Today, I was realizing that, as much as I want to be connected to and touched by someone, my own walls are very high and the line is very deeply drawn in the sand. I have been taking down some of the bricks in the wall (finally found a use for the stupid clowns but their big feet slow them down) and recently have begun to try to erase the line in the sand because I truly, finally feel that I’m wanting, needing, desiring to have someone share at least a part of my life right now. And it’s very frightening. I’ve been pining for someone while holding the thought of that someone at bay. Pull in, push away. Oh, he’s close now so I’ll find a reason, a way, an excuse to make him run away or put my arm out so he can’t get too close. Because if he does get too close, then I’ll have to lower the wall and reduce the line. And as much as I have claimed I want to do that, taking down that first brick has been very hard.

And watching those around me really illustrates that. I have two friends who are tentatively moving forward in a relationship of some sort right now but I can see the reticence and tentative quality to this budding relationship. Can’t put a name on it yet because then it will be something real and concrete and really have to be identified. As long as there is no name to what it is, it’s safe and it’s fine and it’s “easy.” As soon as there is a name for it, then it becomes something else and might lead to something else and then there’s the future and all that comes with it and sharing each other’s baggage and being counted on for something instead of just keeping it loose and… oh, god! So they both agree with the conceit and move happily through their… whatever it is. They have found someone – no matter how tenuous and cautious – to begin to scale the wall with and for and to help them begin to make moves towards really reaching out and connecting with someone.

Then I watch one of my fav guys seeking his way. He’s a challenge, this one. His walls are very high and very steep and covered with thorns and all kinds of things, yet there are pockets and openings in his walls that lead into the labyrinth he has so carefully constructed over the years. Open enough that you can see beyond the walls to the beauty and the wonder that is his heart. Close enough that you can almost touch the center of him, yet he can watch you from the turrets and decide when and how he can meet you as opposed to you meeting him. Yet there is a quality to him of wanting someone to leap over those labyrinth walls and climb the thorns and push through the gates to get to the turret to free him from his comfortable, well-appointed castle. He reaches others, as is his choice, but makes it impossible to reach him. It makes me very sad, because I think his castle inside is probably incredible and the possibilities for sharing this life and this joy are immense. It’s just tiring breaking off the thorny branches and it’s hard to keep wrapping bandages around your hands as you try to fight your way through the maze. I’m curious to see what would happen if the walls were breached and he had no choice but to climb down out of the turret and face me. I’m not sure I’ll ever know. In the meantime, the best I can do is stand on top of the walls and wave, letting him know I am there, whenever he wants to be reached, and that this friendship will survive the traps and the tricks that he has built and that I will enjoy the scenery whenever he chooses to come down and join me and walk with me for a while through the thorny places of his heart, as he has journeyed through mine.

Another friend is seeking something she cannot define. She has a beautiful life – or so it seems from the outside. She has someone who has committed to sharing his life with her and yet she seems to need another connection. She pretends she’s happy with her permanent connection but always seems to be on the look out for something more, someone else to reach out to her. She is always holding out her hand, desiring a different kind of connection than she has, stirring the very dangerous fires around her, then running back to what she has when she has stirred the fires too much. I’m not sure she is even aware she is doing this but I can see her sadness and her emptiness and her wanting to find a way to fill that which is not being filled by her current connection. And it’s hard to watch, because it feels as though she is stealing something from those who reach out to her because she is not able to reach back, or she runs in fear at what she has brought on because she doesn’t realize she has reached out that far. Then she hides back in her life, rebuilding the walls between her and the outside world and even her and her inside world It’s sad, because I think she could be happy if she would only accept what she has or, on the other hand, leave that broken place and go out and find that real connection she needs, instead of keeping within the comfort zone of what she has.

The funny thing is that the people who surround my life right now have given me much in the way of connection. I have an incredible set of friends who fill that void, who make the empty, lonely nights easier because of their emails, their Myspace presence, their silly text messages, etc. There is great depth in the connections that I share with these people and I don’t know what I would do without them. They keep me sane and filled and satisfied and let me know that there is something there, someone there, who is connected to me, who I can reach out to when I need to, and who have reached out to me as well. And this connection is a valued and appreciated one – or many, actually. I am eternally grateful that God has provided me with these folks – and you all know who you are – and I’m glad we can be there for each other as we build our walls and tear them down, as we weep over missed opportunities or frustrating choices or loves that we have lost. I am glad we can tell each other the white lies of there being a connection somewhere for us all, that we will all find it eventually and that we should stay optimistic, even when shoes are dropping and all signs are pointing south instead of north. That connection is invaluable and one that can never be replaced.

And a little connecting was going on tonight and I quite enjoyed that. It was fun to play with the guys tonight and get played back with. It’s the first time in a long time someone has put out that playful hand and tested the thickness of the wall and the depth of the line. Not very far into the testing, but at least a bit of a step towards the wall was very nice.

But I look forward to the day when I have again that someone who “gets me,” who holds me without fail and whose eyes light up when I enter a room. My heart skips a beat currently for someone but I’m not sure about his heart and its beat. But I want that connection, I need that connection, I am now ready to seek out that connection, as terrifying and frightening as it is, because looking at my life without it is more frightening.

Yes, it's 12 of 12 time again!

This is becoming one of my favorite things to do - on the 12th of every month, shoot 12 photographs and post them. It all starts with Chad's blog through Bonnie's blog.

Check my 12 of 12 for September.

Enjoy!

Susan

Hardest thing to me to admit…

My life is better without him.

That phrase has rolled around in my head a lot lately and has been uttered by those near and dear to me but I couldn’t own them because I was afraid of being harsh or bitter or angry or something else terribly cliché.

But it’s true. My life is better without him.

That doesn’t mean he’s a bad guy or that we didn’t have a good life at one point. It just got to where my life – the life that I wanted to live, that I thought I could live – was not good. And being with him did not help make it better. In fact, in many ways, being with him made my life worse.

And I share that responsibility. I could have spoken up sooner. I could have insisted we go into counseling when I realized we were going terribly awry. I could have found a way to try to reach him and let him know how bad… oh, wait… there was that night with the pills…

Okay, so maybe I didn’t do everything I could or I did do everything I could or he didn’t or whatever. What it comes down to is… my life is better without him.

I can breathe. I can leave clothes on the floor. I can go out till 3 o’clock in the morning and sing my fool head off. I can make a feature film in seven days.

I can heal. I can find myself. I can be myself.

I can let my heart be open again without fear of doing it wrong or being wrong. My heart will get broken in a different way, I’m sure, but at least it’s starting to want to peek out again and be pried open. It’s been shut for so long, which is why it’s hurt so much to feel it creaking open.

The last few days have been full of little tiny things that have made me really embrace that idea – being better without him. And accepting that without feeling guilty. I am glad that I have the people in my life that have pointed out to me how great my life is now and how much I have changed in the last 14 months. I am a new person.

And maybe not being afraid to say that, to say that my life is better now that he’s not in it, to be able to acknowledge that, maybe this will allow me to put it behind me and move forward. And by putting it behind me, maybe it will allow me to be more free with my life, more free with what I want and feel more capable of getting what I want without the fear that I am somehow hurting him by pursuing my life.

That’s the weird thing, I think. I felt guilty about living my life. I wanted to hide my accomplishments from him because I was afraid it would hurt him to see me do well without him. Yet he never worried about how much he hurt me with his criticism and his harsh words and his stinging commentary. But even now, I still want to protect him and keep from hurting him because I feel like I have hurt him so much by simply leaving him. I think that’s a part of what kept me from really pursuing the OOMA because I was afraid it would hurt him to see me with someone else. Irrational, I know, as he was dating someone for a while and apparently is again dating someone. But I still worried about hurting him.

But just accepting those words – my life is better without him – takes the edge off that guilt. Because it means he is truly no longer a part of my life. Which means I no longer have to worry constantly about hurting him. That doesn’t give me permission to slap him in the face or intentionally do something to bring hurt on to him. But I can stop including him in my thought process when I am moving forward. He does not belong in the future in my life. He belongs in the past, both the good and the bad. He needs to go about making his own future, which I believe he is, and leave me in the past as well.

And maybe he will find a day where he can say the same thing about me – that his life is better without me. And he’ll be happy and fulfilled and move forward to whatever his destiny is. But his destiny is no longer my concern. I can wish him well, I can hope the best for him, but I can let him go.

I thought I had let him go but until those words came to me today, I realized I still had a finger wrapped around him. And, today, that finger finally let go. Because my life is better without him.

Finally...

My emotions seem to have swung back to center finally. They’ve been so wonky lately.

Zadra got me thinking last night as her mantra was “I’m grateful for my friends, and my cats, and my dog, and my parents, and my boyfriend, and my job…” And lately, I haven’t been terribly grateful as I’ve been mired in pain and discourse and mental gymnastics.

Then this morning, before heading off to the folks’ place, I was flipping (virtually, of course) through photos from this summer, searching for good pics to load on to my phone to identify my callers (I’m addicted to my new Razor), I was overwhelmed with memories of this season. It’s been amazing and I’m glad to be reminded of that.

So, it’s been a while, here is my current gratitude list, of which I’m sure I’ll forget something.

I am grateful for:

1. The time with my father, whatever time we will have.
2. My siblings, no matter how hard our relationships can be, they’re healthy, they’re happy, and they make me who I am.
3. The July 4th pool party. I haven’t laughed so hard and had so much fun as I did that night. The company, the weather, the dogs, that goofy attack kitty, and watching the fireworks with one of my favorite people couldn’t get better.
4. Snakes on a Mo-Fo Plane.
5. Comic-Con and four days with two of my dearest friends.
6. “Cinderella Drives A Pick-Up”. Words can’t express. I will finish the edit soon to share that gratitude with you all.
7. Koji’s. For the joy of it.
8. The most amazing friends on the face of the earth – both my dearest and nearest to my heart and even those on the periphery, because they are incredible as well and surprise me often.
9. Finding other women in my situation who share my pain, my wounds and aren’t afraid to show theirs.
10. Twyla.
11. These past few months in my own place.
12. The 48 Hour Film Project.
13. The far-too-short visit from Kim. I miss you terribly, sweetie. Come back soon!
14. Chairman. He has introduced me to some of the most amazing people in my life, including Bonnie and Christy, which led to this lovely play, “Three Lefts”, that I will be directing this fall. And just grateful for his existence.
15. My girls – Monica, Patty, Zadra, Misha, Erin, Joy (and I know I’m missing someone) – you ladies keep me sane. And that’s a task!
16. The rest of my boys – Peter, Erik, AJ (come home soon, baby!), Drew.
17. My job.
18. The Remo drum circle Tuesday nights.
19. Keith Urban. Sorry, couldn’t resist.
20. The Ark Theatre Company.
21. The amazing gifts God has given me and the opportunities he’s presented me with to use those gifts.

I think that’s a good notes to end on. There are many more I could add but I’ve gotta get out of here. You know I expect to see your lists. So get busy. I’ll check in with you later.

Karaoke saved my life…

I don’t know why it is, but just going to Koji’s on Thursday nights helps get me out of funks.

I have been struggling for the past week or so, fighting off the circus clowns after spending extended time with my family. We haven’t all been together in a very long time but whenever we do get together, I find that I am the least important person there. I now understand where my issues of feeling invisible and unimportant come from. It’s not their fault, it’s not like they intentionally do it. It’s just one of those things. There are worse things families do to each other and we all bear the wounds that our families foist upon us. For me, it’s an issue that was exacerbated throughout my marriage – the feeling that I didn’t exist, that I didn’t matter. I still struggle with that a great deal, the sense that I could walk away and no one would miss me. It tends to lead me down that deep, dark rabbit hole that somehow ends up under the circus tent.

I know it’s not real. I know that I am as important to my friends and family as they are to me. But it’s hard to reason out the irrational.

So today I spent mostly in bed or on the floor, almost completely unable to function. I got some work done because I had to. I picked up my check and went to the bank, because I had to. I came home, took some stuff to help alleviate the ennui, then crashed in bed, “The Quick and The Dead” playing in the background for distraction. I wasn’t going to go to Koji’s because I just couldn’t. I slept a bit, and the pills kicked in, which helped lift the veil a tiny touch. I decided to try to get showered and, if I managed that, then get dressed and, if I managed that, then maybe go to Koji’s for an hour. The whole day was that – get up, do work. If I make it that far, check email. If I make it that far, do a bit more work. Lay down. Get up. Tiny little fragments of my day were all I could handle.

I allowed the circus clowns to have full reign over my brain, convincing me of the most ludicrous things, mostly focusing on the invisibility factor. Trying to convince me that I don’t matter to someone who is very near and dear to me, that my presence is not required and I would not be missed at all by this person. My heart broke to think of that. And that made me want to crawl back in bed, just let it be. Fine. I won’t go if I won’t be missed. Stupid, irrational thoughts.

I read through the responses to my blog from Thursday and the irrationality continued. Well, maybe not irrational but just the worn out, tired woman I have been feeling these last few days. I wanted to lash out all the well-meaning responses and say, yeah, I get it, I know it will get better and there is some warrior guy out there waiting for me and, yeah, I know, I won’t be alone the rest of my life and I am a Great Dane and all of that. But, today, just today, I want to be just what I am – a wounded, broken, suffering woman who doesn’t have a clue what the hell she is doing with her life. I wanted to just scream, I’m nothing special, I’m not an example, I’m not an inspiration. I’m full of shit and I talk a good game but, inside, I’m falling apart. I can’t stop crying the past few days. I’m empty and hollow and aching and shattered. I put on a good game face sometimes but this is what I really am. And I don’t want to be told it’ll be all right. I want to be not all right for a while. Then I’ll come back to the warrior woman I know I am truly deep inside. But just for today, I can’t wear that armor. I want to be able to just WANT. To be weak and say, hey, you know what, I want to be held. I want someone to love me. And, yes, sex wouldn’t suck either.

So I managed to pull myself somewhat together and decided to go to Koji’s just for an hour or so, to get me out of my very messy apartment and maybe feel less yucky.

Well, it’s now 2:42. So I didn’t leave in an hour. Once again, those amazing people around me saw my pain and acknowledged it then let me be in pain. Monica chatted with me about it for a bit. The others that are in the “new group” gave hugs and welcomes. I sang “Rainy Days and Mondays” because that’s what I felt like singing. It helped. Then Chairman arrived, which always cheers me up. An old friend, Vanessa, joined us and a new friend, Marlo, who is working on a show with Chairman, also joined us. The conversation went everywhere and nowhere. And slowly but surely, I found myself smiling more and hurting less. Vanessa and I traded ex-husband stories (she wins, by the way). I filled Marlo in on being Richard’s ex and she bonded with me over that. Drew wore polyester, which was worth it for just that, and did his best AJ impersonation. Monica rocked, as usual. And Chairman sang the Rolling Stones, a rare treat.

By the time we all left at 1:30, I felt like I could get through the night. That maybe getting up in the morning was going to be much less painful than I had anticipated. That the circus clowns had been beaten back behind their barriers and that maybe, just maybe, I might be able to sleep tonight without too much help.

I wasn’t invisible. I wasn’t unimportant. I wasn’t unloved. Monica’s smile and Chairman’s embrace assured me of that. Sometimes, I need the unspoken knowledge that I matter, the nonverbal way that those who I love and who love me interact with me that lets me know I matter to them, that they would miss me as much as I would miss them, should we somehow lose each other. All the written reassurances and the encouragement I get in cyberspace is wonderful and amazing, don’t think it isn’t. And I so appreciate it as it means a great deal to me. But there is nothing like the embrace of someone you love to tell you that you are here, you are present, and you are significant. I go to bed tonight, holding that feeling in my heart, hoping that it will still be there when I wake in the morning.

Lone wolf-ess?

I am an anomaly, apparently.

“Fight Club” brought out a very interesting discussion in what defines men and what defines women. Men, we decided, are defined by their ability to “fight” – by whatever definition you want to dress it up in. Fight by keeping their families together, fight by getting a good job so they can protect and support their family, sometimes really just knuckle-to-knuckle fight. But they are defined by their external values – strength, power, bravado.

Women, as Zadra pointed out, are defined by their intimate relationships to others, as wife, as girlfriend, as mother, as sister. We are raised by a Puritanical paradigm that teaches us as women that, in order for us to be fulfilled, we must be part of something, usually familial. From a very young age, we’re taught to find the handsome prince or marry rich or find that perfect guy. Films like “Jerry Maguire” just solidify that. Even though he’s the one who says it, "You complete me” sums up a woman’s purpose in life – we’re here to complete the men in our lives, to make them whole, to make their lives fuller and deeper and better while they’re out fighting for us. It makes a kind of twisted sense – you fight for me to protect me and I’ll bake cookies and pop out babies.

But we’re now in a world where women have begun to learn to be warriors. Puritanical society doesn’t allow for women warriors, unlike other cultures. So those of us who are discovering our inner fighter, our inner warrior, who can protect ourselves and don’t necessarily need a man to define that part of ourselves are screwed. We’re left wondering who we are and how we fit into this paradigm that is so narrow and so strict. We don’t need the key relationship to “complete” us or define us, yet we yearn for those protective arms and that secure fortress just as we struggle to escape the tight grip of oppression that can come with that security. Warriors need other warriors that they can keep company with and fight battles together with and this society just doesn’t know what to do with that.

Zadra’s observation was that I am one of the only women she knows that left a long term relationship without doing one of two things – waiting for another relationship to come along to take the place of the one I was trying to leave or to leave a relationship and immediately seek out and plant myself in a new one. I hadn’t thought about that. When I look at the women around me who have left their relationships, they are all in another relationship which occurred as the old one ended or almost on the heels of what they left.

Zadra thought I was in an enviable position because I was defining myself, not allowing myself to be defined by the relationship I was in. In fact, that very definition was what drove me out of my relationship. He kept trying to make me fit into this box he had and I had outgrown it.

The thing was, there wasn’t another relationship waiting there for me. I didn’t necessarily choose to be alone. There just wasn’t anybody there, holding their arms out, saying, “come over here now.” And there still isn’t.

So if we women are defined by our intimate relationships – not necessarily defined by our girlfriends or our workmates – but truly defined by those who are buried deep within our hearts, what does that mean for someone like me who doesn’t have someone to be defined by? Is that why I am so persistent in pursuing this one man, because I feel the need to have someone in my life to define me? And he’s a pretty good one to be defined by. I don’t think he’d have a box on the kitchen table waiting to fit me in. But I don’t know. Maybe the loneliness and the anxiety I feel about being alone is that I am not defined without a significant other in my life. There is no one to reflect my life back to me right now, no one that lives in my heart and protects me and fights for me and makes me feel complete. I have a lot of warrior folks in my life who allow me to be the warrior, but even the warrior needs companionship sometimes.

So while some of my women friends look at my life with a tiny bit of envy that I am alone and am defining myself on my own terms, I envy, a tiny bit, their lives and their loves, no matter how imperfect. At least their bed is not empty, even if it is only occasionally filled. At least their phone rings with the number of someone who makes their face light up and make them want to stop the conversation with me so they can hear the voice of the one on the other end. At least they have someone living in their hearts, or finding a way into their hearts. I envy their complaints about the other person, even, because they have someone to complain about.

I am a true warrior right now, alone and objective. Standing on the battle field, waiting for the war to wage, waiting for the skirmish to begin, nothing to distract me from the battlefield, nothing to keep me from charging fully into the bloody mess in front of me. And that’s powerful. But when the war is over and the battle has been waged and won, when the wounds are fresh and bruised and angry, this warrior does not have a protector to help bind the wounds, to help ease the pain of battle, to help this warrior limp back home and bring in the firewood and light the fire. This warrior has to find the way herself, watching with envy the home lights burning on the way, holding on to her pride and purpose, trying to make that the reason for living. When all she really wants is what she sees through the other windows.

Party pictures

Kodak Gallery of Labor Day party at Zadra and Damon's. Sorry if things are mislabeled. It's very late and I'm tired!

Enjoy!

2 Fight Clubs and a Snatch...

Let me explain…

Well, let me start with the fact that I love the men in my life, as you all know. I am blessed to be surrounded by incredible male energy that feeds me and protects me and makes me feel very, very special. I love their talent, I love their passion, I love their sense of joy.

I have also just really discovered that I love the women in my life for the same reason.

I am blessed to be surrounded – for probably the first time in my life – with a large number of incredible women. Usually, I have one or two very good female friends then a smattering of women on the edge who I am not that close to. I suddenly find myself with an abundance of women who I would consider close friends and a goodly number of more than acquaintances-working on being close friends kind of women.

And tonight illustrated why I love these women.

They behave like men.

Take tonight. Five of us got together – myself, Monica, Christy and Patty and Misha – at Patty and Misha’s to watch movies. Now, we didn’t do the chick-flick thing. We did talk about men but mostly about how much we admire that special hollow in a man’s hip when they are impossibly unnaturally fit and their jeans sit just low enough to make us want that waistband to dip just another inch. We talked about who we would date and who we would fuck (date Brad Pitt, fuck Ed Norton was the consensus, although I tended to vote the other way). We talked about sex. And about more sex. And about how several of us are not and have not been having enough sex. I don’t think we talked about feelings once tonight. Except for how we feel about the aforementioned hip hollow.

Then came the main attraction. Originally, we had planned on spending the night watching nasty, dirty, low-life Brad Pitt films, particularly “Fight Club” and “12 Monkeys.” Well, being the kind of warm, fuzzy woman I am, “Fight Club” was purchased within hours of release as it is truly one of my most favorite films. So visceral, so profound… oh, yeah, and the hollow of the hip as mentioned above. But I digress…

So I brought “Fight Club” to the party, as did Christy. She rented hers, being unaware that I owned the hips… I mean… a copy so we watched her copy to justify her rental fee. “12 Monkeys” was not to be found so I brought along “Snatch” as an alternative, should we get that far.

Well, all the talking about hips and sex took up a lot of time and we only had time to watch “Fight Club.” As we were watching it, commenting on its sociopolitical message and how it is the most non-violent violent film we have ever seen, it suddenly struck me why I love the women in my life.

They love “Fight Club.” They didn’t cringe when Ed Norton beat the living daylights out of the blond Aryan boy. They didn’t turn away as fight after fight was visualized on screen. Even when Tyler drooled disgusting amounts of blood into the gangster’s mouth, they did not shy away.

These are the toughest broads I know. They are not afraid to acknowledge their feisty sides, not afraid to show their strength, not afraid to kick some movie ass as needed. And this quality manifests itself in their own lives. They are fearless, they are fighters, and they are unstoppable. And it is not only the four women in the room tonight, but so many of the women in my circle. I am not going to list names because I’ll miss someone terribly important and then feel guilty about it. And I’m afraid of getting my ass kicked by someone I missed.

I am so blessed to have these women in my life, to listen to me, to encourage me and to kick my ass as needed. They smack me upside the head as required then kiss it better. They embrace and protect, they stand up and they take a stand. They are not afraid to speak their minds and wouldn’t ever consider keeping their mouths shut just because they are female.

So here’s to the feisty ones, the ones who inspire me to keep my head above water and to dig my feet in. To the ones who answer my endlessly obsessive blogs with sharp encouragement and mild reproachment, knowing that they’ll get the same from me. To the ones who can take on the hard, harsh, cold world, whether in reality or on screen, and come back for more.

And to Brad Pitt’s hips, just because.