It was just about the perfect day. Woke up early, although my body didn’t want to. It’s taken quite a beating in the last week and is very, very tired. But I had promised to help Monica move and since she helped me foist my armoire (wow, does that sound dirty?) I couldn’t say no.
So it’s 90 degrees at 8:30 AM but we valiantly got most of her stuff out of her temporary home at Casa de Barnes. Made a quick trip to my place to pick up her air mattress, which she lent me while PRS was temporarily mis-located and slept on my floor for a couple of nights. Then I said the magic words – “hey, Chairman’s got a pool. We need to go for a dip when we’re done.”
I stopped to pick what will pass for a bathing suit – a cute pair of boy board shorts that are pacific blue with a sea-type pattern on them and a sexy little blue bikini top. Met up with Monica at C de B. We got in the pool around 1 PM and, boy, was it hard to get out. The sun, the breeze, the water, the conversation. Such pleasure, such decadence. Such fun. I dragged my ass out around 2:30 as I had auditions at the Ark at 4:00 and still had stuff to copy and had to change, etc.
As I was getting ready, Chairman got up (the boy works nights so 3:00 is his 7AM?) and came down, interestingly enough, in his swim trunks, heading for the pool. Monica persuaded me to show him the cleaned up edit of “Weight of the Word” before I left. Didn’t take much persuasion as I am really happy with the cleaned up edit. It only took about an hour to get it where I wanted it. And Beth is coming over tomorrow to finish the sound work. But we watched the cut, chatted about it and other things. Next thing I knew, it was 3:15 and I still hadn’t put on make-up, gone to Kinkos, etc. So I threw on my straw cowboy hat, which is quickly becoming a very important part of my fashion ensemble, and ran out the door.
Made it to the auditions just in time. Disappointed more people didn’t show up but, oh, well. Showed the new cut of the film to those in attendance and got great response. I’m so excited about this short. I think it’s going to do quite well for me and for my cast.
Monica had suggested earlier that I come back after the auditions so we could continue our pool party and I did, after stopping off to pick up ready-to-serve margaritas. To my absolute delight, Chairman decided to join us in the frivolity and the three of us hung out in the pool in the moonlight, sipping our drinks and laughing our butts off. We finally climbed out of the pool around 9 so Chairman could get ready for work, although we basically crashed on couch/chair until he had to leave. I figured I should leave then, too, as I was falling asleep in the chair, full of sun, tequila and pool water.
And I couldn’t help but think how just about perfect this day was. Comfortable, slow, easy, fun. It’s been a while since I’ve had a relaxing, nothing to do kind of day. Although, as Monica pointed out, I didn’t exactly do nothing today. But it sure felt like it. And I’m glad I did. My soul needed rest, my body needed rest and my mind needed rest. And that’s what we got. And the company was certainly delightful.
I am very tired. I can’t seem to stop smiling. I want more of this. If this is what the battle of the last year was all about, then it was all worth it. My heart is full tonight.
“These are the days that we’ll remember….”
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Friday, June 30, 2006
Imperfection
I learned about living with my own imperfections this week.
It started with some silly leftover drama on Friday, which I briefly touched on earlier, which triggered my examining my shortcomings and imperfections. Then I realized something. I felt like I had to apologize for not being perfect, for being who I am and was, and for someone not being able to handle that. Again, I was feeling forced to be/do something I’m not/don’t want to do.
Imperfection is kind of the theme of the 48 Hour Film Project. I mean, really, how perfect can you get a film in 48 hours? Okay, a handful of these filmmakers can – Genesis Films in particular, has the market cornered – but most of us struggle to just get it shot and cut. I did well until the gremlins attacked on Sunday. But the real struggle was my own inner struggle as the big hand on the clock moved ever faster towards 7:30. The phone call from Chairman at 7:00 was actually quite amusing and put some things in perspective for me. I set the bar very high for myself. Last year, I was the second filmmaker in, arriving around 4:15. When Chairman called at 7:00 to say he was at the drop off spot – Cat and the Fiddle on Sunset – and his expectant voice saying, “You’re on your way, right?” I actually laughed. Miss Perfect might actually miss the deadline, I thought. Not a big deal, the film will still screen but we can’t qualify for awards. I heard the stunned amazement in his voice when I said, “Nope, still at home, trying to finish.” “Really?” I had a moment of, oh, shit, I’ve disappointed him because I’m not perfect and I might not make the deadline and he’ll hate me and be upset and never talk to me again and never work with me again because of this and…
Then I realized, I’m not perfect. And he, of all people, knows this. And he wasn’t pressuring me to be perfect, I was doing that to myself. And I thought, I could not turn this in on time because it might not be perfect. If I’m late, I can make it perfect. But then, ironically, the perfectionist in me went, hey, it’s a 48 hour film. This is where we are after 48 hours. Turn the sucker in as is, then fix it later. Even as I sat in the car, trying to push a better copy out of my laptop and as Beth did the relay with Chairman with the first tape, I still thought, it’s not perfect. People are going to see something I did that’s not perfect. I was sick to my stomach, trying to figure out how to make it perfect and make the deadline, which was impossible. Finally, I just tried to let it go.
The imperfections were very large on the big screen Wednesday night. That’s all I saw/heard – those bloody audio beeps where music and dialog should have been. Each beep made me more nauseous, more angry with myself. But there was nothing I could do. It was already up there. And Peter Fox, the organizer of the whole event, had much praise for the project, despite its technical issues. And the filmmakers have all been there themselves and are very forgiving, which made it a little easier. And my amazing cast and crew couldn’t have been more supportive.
Another personal event, which I will not get into here, also forced me to look at myself and my expectations and meeting others’ expectations. Lately, I feel that I am being pressured by several situations to apologize when there is nothing to apologize for. To say I’m sorry for being who I am and sticking my what I feel and think. Situations that make me question myself and my feelings and my own boundaries. Situations that seem determined to point out my flaws and my weaknesses and make me grovel and beg for forgiveness for being human, for having feelings, for expressing those feelings, and for just being who I am.
And I’ve come to the conclusion today that I will no longer apologize for being imperfect. I will no longer allow anyone to make me feel less than because they have their own issues and their own problems and are just trying to rid themselves of their baggage by dumping it on my cart. Take your own baggage, please, my cart is full enough. Get your own valet to help you, I can’t do it any more.
I’m tired of trying to compensate for perceived slights, begging for love and affection from those who I think I want it from. Hey, OOMA, fuck you. How’s that? Okay, that was rash and I take it back. But I’m a bit tired of that, too. Questioning whether he’s not making a move because of something I am not, I should be, I could be. Where I am lacking that keeps him away? Because, of course, it has to be me, not him. My imperfections, not his, are what is keeping us apart.
Or maybe I’m just tired and overanalyzing things. I just know that every time I say I’m sorry for something I’m not sorry for, every time I give up something to make someone happy, when I try to bend myself to match someone’s perception of me, I end up broken and numb and empty. And I’ve enjoyed feeling full and whole and having all my nerve endings tingling. Don’t make me go back to the other stuff. I’ve fought too hard to get here. Take me, just as I am, imperfect, improbable, occasionally irrational, or get out. Those are your choices. My turn to set the boundaries and the rules, as imperfect as they may be.
It started with some silly leftover drama on Friday, which I briefly touched on earlier, which triggered my examining my shortcomings and imperfections. Then I realized something. I felt like I had to apologize for not being perfect, for being who I am and was, and for someone not being able to handle that. Again, I was feeling forced to be/do something I’m not/don’t want to do.
Imperfection is kind of the theme of the 48 Hour Film Project. I mean, really, how perfect can you get a film in 48 hours? Okay, a handful of these filmmakers can – Genesis Films in particular, has the market cornered – but most of us struggle to just get it shot and cut. I did well until the gremlins attacked on Sunday. But the real struggle was my own inner struggle as the big hand on the clock moved ever faster towards 7:30. The phone call from Chairman at 7:00 was actually quite amusing and put some things in perspective for me. I set the bar very high for myself. Last year, I was the second filmmaker in, arriving around 4:15. When Chairman called at 7:00 to say he was at the drop off spot – Cat and the Fiddle on Sunset – and his expectant voice saying, “You’re on your way, right?” I actually laughed. Miss Perfect might actually miss the deadline, I thought. Not a big deal, the film will still screen but we can’t qualify for awards. I heard the stunned amazement in his voice when I said, “Nope, still at home, trying to finish.” “Really?” I had a moment of, oh, shit, I’ve disappointed him because I’m not perfect and I might not make the deadline and he’ll hate me and be upset and never talk to me again and never work with me again because of this and…
Then I realized, I’m not perfect. And he, of all people, knows this. And he wasn’t pressuring me to be perfect, I was doing that to myself. And I thought, I could not turn this in on time because it might not be perfect. If I’m late, I can make it perfect. But then, ironically, the perfectionist in me went, hey, it’s a 48 hour film. This is where we are after 48 hours. Turn the sucker in as is, then fix it later. Even as I sat in the car, trying to push a better copy out of my laptop and as Beth did the relay with Chairman with the first tape, I still thought, it’s not perfect. People are going to see something I did that’s not perfect. I was sick to my stomach, trying to figure out how to make it perfect and make the deadline, which was impossible. Finally, I just tried to let it go.
The imperfections were very large on the big screen Wednesday night. That’s all I saw/heard – those bloody audio beeps where music and dialog should have been. Each beep made me more nauseous, more angry with myself. But there was nothing I could do. It was already up there. And Peter Fox, the organizer of the whole event, had much praise for the project, despite its technical issues. And the filmmakers have all been there themselves and are very forgiving, which made it a little easier. And my amazing cast and crew couldn’t have been more supportive.
Another personal event, which I will not get into here, also forced me to look at myself and my expectations and meeting others’ expectations. Lately, I feel that I am being pressured by several situations to apologize when there is nothing to apologize for. To say I’m sorry for being who I am and sticking my what I feel and think. Situations that make me question myself and my feelings and my own boundaries. Situations that seem determined to point out my flaws and my weaknesses and make me grovel and beg for forgiveness for being human, for having feelings, for expressing those feelings, and for just being who I am.
And I’ve come to the conclusion today that I will no longer apologize for being imperfect. I will no longer allow anyone to make me feel less than because they have their own issues and their own problems and are just trying to rid themselves of their baggage by dumping it on my cart. Take your own baggage, please, my cart is full enough. Get your own valet to help you, I can’t do it any more.
I’m tired of trying to compensate for perceived slights, begging for love and affection from those who I think I want it from. Hey, OOMA, fuck you. How’s that? Okay, that was rash and I take it back. But I’m a bit tired of that, too. Questioning whether he’s not making a move because of something I am not, I should be, I could be. Where I am lacking that keeps him away? Because, of course, it has to be me, not him. My imperfections, not his, are what is keeping us apart.
Or maybe I’m just tired and overanalyzing things. I just know that every time I say I’m sorry for something I’m not sorry for, every time I give up something to make someone happy, when I try to bend myself to match someone’s perception of me, I end up broken and numb and empty. And I’ve enjoyed feeling full and whole and having all my nerve endings tingling. Don’t make me go back to the other stuff. I’ve fought too hard to get here. Take me, just as I am, imperfect, improbable, occasionally irrational, or get out. Those are your choices. My turn to set the boundaries and the rules, as imperfect as they may be.
Monday, June 26, 2006
What I learned this weekend
I did the 48 Hour Film Project again this year. Check out my blog on Myspace (http://www.myspace.com/lifeonitsside) for all the details, since most of you subscribe there anyway.
What I wanted to post here are my personal thoughts from the weekend (no, get out, really?).
First of all, I moved past an old issue that reared its ugly head again just as we were getting underway on Friday. Six months ago, this would have crippled me and I would have spent the weekend doubting myself and beating myself up. But between the support I got from my dearest friends and collaborators and particularly hearing Chairman’s response to this made me realize that this is something so not worth even these few words. I have spent so much of my time worrying how others perceive me and allow their negativity and destructive tendencies to influence me that it almost literally killed me. I have tried to be what everyone wants me to be and it left me immobile with depression. I have tried to make everyone else happy but myself and it left me devastated by those who will never be happy. I realize and accept that this issue is out of my hands, it has nothing to do with the me that I am today and it is an issue I no longer have to deal with. I can choose to let it destroy all the work I have put in over the last year or I can take it for what it is – leftovers from my other life, issues that are not mine, something I cannot control – and just let it go. It will resolve itself in whatever way it’s going to. I can’t let it be an influence on me now.
There, done with that.
Instead, I focused on what is true – I kick ass. Of course, the Life On Its Side repertory company helps with the ass-kicking but a lot of it is me. I have really grown as a filmmaker and I enjoy the process so much. I loved writing this piece – “Weight of the Word” – a satirical political drama about free speech set in the not too distant present. It’s an idea I had for last year’s 48 Hour Film Project but I didn’t draw the appropriate genre to do it in. This year, I got drama, which worked perfectly.
I enjoyed writing the script and appreciated the fact that the cast showed up Saturday, salivating to get going. That reaction chased away what little insecurity I had over the script.
We worked like a well-oiled machine, which is why I like working with these people. The machine broke down Sunday – the machine literally as gremlins possessed my hard drive – but we still made it.
As some of us shared dinner and drinks Saturday night after a very hot, humid, icky day of shooting, I looked around me in wonder. To my left, Monica and Erik, one long time friend, one brand new one. Erik has been an amazing support through our fairly short relationship and I think I overlook that sometimes. I guess without my knowing it, he has sneaked in as the fourth to my favorite three guys. I knew someone would eventually and I’m glad it’s him. Monica’s an inspiration every day and so tolerant of my ramblings. Beth, my DP and new buddy, was on my right, giggling and melting ice cubes in the candle (don’t ask). Lindsay Wray sat a bit down from me and I realized what a pleasure she is to work with and what an amazing woman she is. Glad she’s joined the rep company, both my budding one and the Ark. And, of course, Chairman sitting across from me.
I keep saying this but I have never been happier. To see these people in my life, so encouraging, so supportive, so loving, is overwhelming even now. I realize so much of my life I didn’t have that unconditional support because I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted. It’s impossible for people to really get behind you and push when they can’t see what you’re pushing. This is the first real group of people who haven’t been long time friends (others than Chairman) who see me as Susan, the artist, and treat me with such respect it leaves me speechless.
The icing on the cake was Sunday when we finally managed to hand the film off (3 minutes to spare – details on Myspace). One of the other groups who I admire so much, Genesis Films, were there – Kennedy and JP. These are amazing filmmakers. They made a film noir a few years ago that was breathtaking. When I walked in, Kennedy jumped up and hugged me and gushed about how glad she was to see me. I was under Life On Its Side this year and she had looked for my old company name, disappointed to not see it there. They raved about “Dark Guitar”, which was the piece I made last year, and expressed how excited they are to see “Weight of the Word,” despite the technical problems we had. I was so flattered to be included and appreciated in this community by people I admire so much. That’s the beauty of the 48 Hour Film Project, everyone’s there to support everyone else. Most of the time, egos are checked at the door and everyone’s excited to see what you can really do in 48 hours.
So I came home last night after sharing drinks with Kennedy, JP, Beth and Chairman and a handful of others, thinking how much I have grown since we did this last year. I was finding my way but still full of insecurity. Still felt like I needed to get permission from those around me to make decisions, rely on them to tell me what was good, what wasn’t, what I should do. This year, this was my project. Totally. I had input and help and hands held out to catch me, but I rose to the occasion and never looked back.
It’s still hard and it’s still a journey but at least I have more days where I feel like the competent, amazing woman so many seem to think I am. Monica shared with me that someone close to us both said they couldn’t understand how someone like me could have self-esteem issues. I’m talented, intelligent, gifted. And I thought, I like the sound of that. I’m also emotional and difficult and challenging but I’m also loyal and passionate and romantic. And I will no longer allow anyone to make me feel less because I am any of these things. It all comes together in this 5’5” package, stored in the few extra pounds that I’m learning to live with at my advanced age, and every single one of those things about me is what makes me the director I am, the writer I am and the person I am. Take one of those away and you have somebody else. And I’ve done that. I’m not somebody else anymore. I am Susan Lee. And that’s a force to be reckoned with.
What I wanted to post here are my personal thoughts from the weekend (no, get out, really?).
First of all, I moved past an old issue that reared its ugly head again just as we were getting underway on Friday. Six months ago, this would have crippled me and I would have spent the weekend doubting myself and beating myself up. But between the support I got from my dearest friends and collaborators and particularly hearing Chairman’s response to this made me realize that this is something so not worth even these few words. I have spent so much of my time worrying how others perceive me and allow their negativity and destructive tendencies to influence me that it almost literally killed me. I have tried to be what everyone wants me to be and it left me immobile with depression. I have tried to make everyone else happy but myself and it left me devastated by those who will never be happy. I realize and accept that this issue is out of my hands, it has nothing to do with the me that I am today and it is an issue I no longer have to deal with. I can choose to let it destroy all the work I have put in over the last year or I can take it for what it is – leftovers from my other life, issues that are not mine, something I cannot control – and just let it go. It will resolve itself in whatever way it’s going to. I can’t let it be an influence on me now.
There, done with that.
Instead, I focused on what is true – I kick ass. Of course, the Life On Its Side repertory company helps with the ass-kicking but a lot of it is me. I have really grown as a filmmaker and I enjoy the process so much. I loved writing this piece – “Weight of the Word” – a satirical political drama about free speech set in the not too distant present. It’s an idea I had for last year’s 48 Hour Film Project but I didn’t draw the appropriate genre to do it in. This year, I got drama, which worked perfectly.
I enjoyed writing the script and appreciated the fact that the cast showed up Saturday, salivating to get going. That reaction chased away what little insecurity I had over the script.
We worked like a well-oiled machine, which is why I like working with these people. The machine broke down Sunday – the machine literally as gremlins possessed my hard drive – but we still made it.
As some of us shared dinner and drinks Saturday night after a very hot, humid, icky day of shooting, I looked around me in wonder. To my left, Monica and Erik, one long time friend, one brand new one. Erik has been an amazing support through our fairly short relationship and I think I overlook that sometimes. I guess without my knowing it, he has sneaked in as the fourth to my favorite three guys. I knew someone would eventually and I’m glad it’s him. Monica’s an inspiration every day and so tolerant of my ramblings. Beth, my DP and new buddy, was on my right, giggling and melting ice cubes in the candle (don’t ask). Lindsay Wray sat a bit down from me and I realized what a pleasure she is to work with and what an amazing woman she is. Glad she’s joined the rep company, both my budding one and the Ark. And, of course, Chairman sitting across from me.
I keep saying this but I have never been happier. To see these people in my life, so encouraging, so supportive, so loving, is overwhelming even now. I realize so much of my life I didn’t have that unconditional support because I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted. It’s impossible for people to really get behind you and push when they can’t see what you’re pushing. This is the first real group of people who haven’t been long time friends (others than Chairman) who see me as Susan, the artist, and treat me with such respect it leaves me speechless.
The icing on the cake was Sunday when we finally managed to hand the film off (3 minutes to spare – details on Myspace). One of the other groups who I admire so much, Genesis Films, were there – Kennedy and JP. These are amazing filmmakers. They made a film noir a few years ago that was breathtaking. When I walked in, Kennedy jumped up and hugged me and gushed about how glad she was to see me. I was under Life On Its Side this year and she had looked for my old company name, disappointed to not see it there. They raved about “Dark Guitar”, which was the piece I made last year, and expressed how excited they are to see “Weight of the Word,” despite the technical problems we had. I was so flattered to be included and appreciated in this community by people I admire so much. That’s the beauty of the 48 Hour Film Project, everyone’s there to support everyone else. Most of the time, egos are checked at the door and everyone’s excited to see what you can really do in 48 hours.
So I came home last night after sharing drinks with Kennedy, JP, Beth and Chairman and a handful of others, thinking how much I have grown since we did this last year. I was finding my way but still full of insecurity. Still felt like I needed to get permission from those around me to make decisions, rely on them to tell me what was good, what wasn’t, what I should do. This year, this was my project. Totally. I had input and help and hands held out to catch me, but I rose to the occasion and never looked back.
It’s still hard and it’s still a journey but at least I have more days where I feel like the competent, amazing woman so many seem to think I am. Monica shared with me that someone close to us both said they couldn’t understand how someone like me could have self-esteem issues. I’m talented, intelligent, gifted. And I thought, I like the sound of that. I’m also emotional and difficult and challenging but I’m also loyal and passionate and romantic. And I will no longer allow anyone to make me feel less because I am any of these things. It all comes together in this 5’5” package, stored in the few extra pounds that I’m learning to live with at my advanced age, and every single one of those things about me is what makes me the director I am, the writer I am and the person I am. Take one of those away and you have somebody else. And I’ve done that. I’m not somebody else anymore. I am Susan Lee. And that’s a force to be reckoned with.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
48 Hour Film Project
Couldn’t be happier
Nothing makes me happier than working with my own little rep group. I made a 48 Hour Film Project today. Draw a genre Friday night, get a few key elements that must be used, then shoot, edit and finish it by 7:30 Sunday night.
Okay, so I just made a feature in eight days, this should be easy.
And it was. Of course, I had an exceptional crew who read my mind, actors who did their homework and came prepared, crew who unexpectedly became actors when I screwed up scheduling, and actors who crewed in between their scenes.
What I really understood and took away from today was that these are people who are not concerned with their own egos. They come to work on the project, not see how good they can make themselves look regardless of everything else. They are willing to run an errand, grab a boom, get someone a bottle of water who’s been working really hard. They checked their egos at the door and came to play. Joy abounded, even as Lindsay, Zadra and Tricia were tortured in leather jackets – black leather, no less – in 100 degree temperatures in Glendale. Chairman sacrificing his body for his art by lying for hours on the hot cement. Erik, Patty Jean and Monica stepping into roles they were not cast in and handling it all with such grace and professionalism. Peter, always a joy to work with, is a blessing as both cast and crew. Tricia made a lovely addition to the troupe, along with Michelle and Zadra. The crew was amazing – Beth Wallan, my gifted DP who I truly adore working with, Paula coming in at the last second and being so generous with her time and food. Justice for tagging along with Michelle and making himself more than useful then not wanting credit for his contribution. Gosh, I know I’m missing someone, I always do. I’m sorry if I did. I’m tired and loopy from the margarita we had after we finished.
There are probably still teams of the 48HFP running around right now, trying to finish filming. My film sits happily in the camera, waiting for me to free it.
This is the greatest joy of my life, being able to make these films, being able to direct the projects I am and will be doing, and being able to work with my best friends and the most talented people on earth.
Please feel free to check out photos of today’s shoot at:
http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=9afd3ld.q9k7lct&x=1&y=54bym3
They’re not all up so I hope to add to this in the next day or so. If you’re around Wednesday at 9:30, come see “The Weight of the Word,” a political drama about free speech set in the not too distant present. It’s screening at the Laemelle Fairax and info is available at http://www.48hourfilm.com.
Thanks again to those generous, talented and egoless souls who came to share with me today. I can’t wait to show you what your hard work has done. I love you all very, very much.
Your humble director.
Nothing makes me happier than working with my own little rep group. I made a 48 Hour Film Project today. Draw a genre Friday night, get a few key elements that must be used, then shoot, edit and finish it by 7:30 Sunday night.
Okay, so I just made a feature in eight days, this should be easy.
And it was. Of course, I had an exceptional crew who read my mind, actors who did their homework and came prepared, crew who unexpectedly became actors when I screwed up scheduling, and actors who crewed in between their scenes.
What I really understood and took away from today was that these are people who are not concerned with their own egos. They come to work on the project, not see how good they can make themselves look regardless of everything else. They are willing to run an errand, grab a boom, get someone a bottle of water who’s been working really hard. They checked their egos at the door and came to play. Joy abounded, even as Lindsay, Zadra and Tricia were tortured in leather jackets – black leather, no less – in 100 degree temperatures in Glendale. Chairman sacrificing his body for his art by lying for hours on the hot cement. Erik, Patty Jean and Monica stepping into roles they were not cast in and handling it all with such grace and professionalism. Peter, always a joy to work with, is a blessing as both cast and crew. Tricia made a lovely addition to the troupe, along with Michelle and Zadra. The crew was amazing – Beth Wallan, my gifted DP who I truly adore working with, Paula coming in at the last second and being so generous with her time and food. Justice for tagging along with Michelle and making himself more than useful then not wanting credit for his contribution. Gosh, I know I’m missing someone, I always do. I’m sorry if I did. I’m tired and loopy from the margarita we had after we finished.
There are probably still teams of the 48HFP running around right now, trying to finish filming. My film sits happily in the camera, waiting for me to free it.
This is the greatest joy of my life, being able to make these films, being able to direct the projects I am and will be doing, and being able to work with my best friends and the most talented people on earth.
Please feel free to check out photos of today’s shoot at:
http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=9afd3ld.q9k7lct&x=1&y=54bym3
They’re not all up so I hope to add to this in the next day or so. If you’re around Wednesday at 9:30, come see “The Weight of the Word,” a political drama about free speech set in the not too distant present. It’s screening at the Laemelle Fairax and info is available at http://www.48hourfilm.com.
Thanks again to those generous, talented and egoless souls who came to share with me today. I can’t wait to show you what your hard work has done. I love you all very, very much.
Your humble director.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Face-hurting kinda day…
My heart is full and happy tonight. Didn’t start out that way, was kinda blue earlier. Lots of things triggering lots of things but finally becoming aware when it’s things that are being triggered instead of things being true.
Went to a Dodger game with Chairman, Zadra, Misha, Bonnie, et al. I’m a Dodger virgin and had no idea that you could have such fun while almost watching a ball game. Exceptional company. Far too much ugly food that tasted so good. Garlic fries are heaven in a cardboard container.
Then, of course, no Thursday is complete without Koji’s and karaoke. The icing on the top of the evening was the return of a piece of my heart – my darling AJ is home after an extended leave of absence from LA. And the biggest surprise was the appearance of Mikee. Man, didn’t know how much I missed that sweet face until it was right in front of me.
My face hurts from smiling so much. The pleasure of learning to let go and just embrace the day and the moment and the people is a huge learning curve for me and I cherish the nights when I can come home with my face aching and a batch of lovely moments – Zadra appearing with the tray of garlic fries and singing along with Chairman; seeing all these new friends around me at Dodger Stadium; walking into Koji’s and seeing AJ; Mikee grinning at me and really looking happy; Chairman killing on Hollywood Nights.
The main thing I need to remember is that I am loved and that, while friends have been left behind on this journey, new ones have stepped into their place. And while those left behind will always be thought of fondly and embraced when they’re around, the new me is now surrounded by what and who I need to be surrounded by. I have never felt so accepted, so comfortable, so warmed by the company in my life. And, for once, I know that I earned it and that I deserve it. And I won’t let anyone take that away from me.
Went to a Dodger game with Chairman, Zadra, Misha, Bonnie, et al. I’m a Dodger virgin and had no idea that you could have such fun while almost watching a ball game. Exceptional company. Far too much ugly food that tasted so good. Garlic fries are heaven in a cardboard container.
Then, of course, no Thursday is complete without Koji’s and karaoke. The icing on the top of the evening was the return of a piece of my heart – my darling AJ is home after an extended leave of absence from LA. And the biggest surprise was the appearance of Mikee. Man, didn’t know how much I missed that sweet face until it was right in front of me.
My face hurts from smiling so much. The pleasure of learning to let go and just embrace the day and the moment and the people is a huge learning curve for me and I cherish the nights when I can come home with my face aching and a batch of lovely moments – Zadra appearing with the tray of garlic fries and singing along with Chairman; seeing all these new friends around me at Dodger Stadium; walking into Koji’s and seeing AJ; Mikee grinning at me and really looking happy; Chairman killing on Hollywood Nights.
The main thing I need to remember is that I am loved and that, while friends have been left behind on this journey, new ones have stepped into their place. And while those left behind will always be thought of fondly and embraced when they’re around, the new me is now surrounded by what and who I need to be surrounded by. I have never felt so accepted, so comfortable, so warmed by the company in my life. And, for once, I know that I earned it and that I deserve it. And I won’t let anyone take that away from me.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Got myself in the mail today…
In the form of my personal banking ATM card that simply says Susan M. Lee. That’s it. Just my name. Wow, it’s amazing how much that little piece of plastic can mean.
And appropriately it arrived as I realized it’s been exactly a year since I told my ex I was through with us. Hard to believe.
It’s been a year of incredible joy and devastating sorrow. One of indescribable pleasure followed by crippling depression. One of undeniable accomplishment hand in hand with paralyzing loneliness.
Pardon me if this is redundant but it feels like a perfect time to really look back at what this year has brought. (in no particular order)
- this time last year, I was preparing to go into the 48 Hour Film Project, alternately breathless with anticipation and terrified of working on this project with him. He didn’t want me to do it and then decided to try to make it “our” project instead of mine. The final straw. I told him I was done the Tuesday before the film started. It was the hardest yet the easiest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life. I’ve never been more clear about what I wanted than that night.
- this time last year, I was coming off of a series of very successful projects – USC One Act Playwriting Festival, where we were again the audience fav, the Slamdance staged reading (told it was one of the best in five years), and part way through the extension of “Lloyd’s Prayer”, the show that changed my life. Professionally, I could see the beginnings of the path in front of me.
- I discovered a whole new group of amazing, creative, inspiring friends who never realized I wasn’t the artist I wanted to be. They have guided me, chided me, held me when I fell, challenged me, encouraged me, cried with me, laughed with me, sang with me a whole lot, and loved me more than I have ever felt loved in my life. It started with my boys – Chairman, AJ and Peter – and grew to include the most incredible group of women I have ever had in my life – Monica, Patty Jean, Tracey, Anna B., Tiffany, Erin, Misha, Bibi, Amy the writer, Bonnie, and my very dearest Zadra and all the feisty, funny, gifted persons at the Ark. I rediscovered some close friends like Erik. I literally could not have gotten through this year without you all, particularly Z and CB, more recently including Monica and Patty Jean. Pardon me if I have forgotten someone. There are so many others from Koji’s and Bigfoot and Dalt’s and Universal that I cannot possibly list you all here. And my older, darling friends whose lives have changed so much yet we still hang on – Barbara and Kim. My heart is so full with all of you.
- I discovered I am a writer. This blog and the Wraith has given me a voice and a life I never knew I could have. I have become stronger, both as a person and as an artist through this expression.
- I have two tattoos that mean the world to me and I am grateful for every day.
- The fondest memories of a very joy-filled, silly, exhausting trip to Vegas. Recap – much margaritas, legless karaoke, screaming like a girl, laughing until my face hurt, the lonely un-scored Marine, naked vampires. Thank you, CB, for everything that weekend.
- Lost a few friends along the way who still try to be supportive but look at me like I’ve grown two heads. That’s a very hard thing to deal with. I am still me, however, more me than I have ever felt and I think it’s hard for some to accept that.
- Truly lost a friend recently who was a dear, sweet soul who always made me feel special and sweet. We were not close but I miss his spirit. May he bring his gifts and heart to heaven to share with those there. Alan, you are missed.
- Heartbreaking falling out with one who I thought was going to be so important and who turned out not to be.
- Almost a year with an incredible, goofy, funny, complicated roomie who I was so glad to have and to count as a friend. Yeah, and her little dogs, too.
- Embraced that I am a director. That’s what started this whole thing.
- Discovered that depression can be overcome and can be dealt with, maybe not all the time but more often than not, at least in my case. A combination of finding myself, accepting myself and the magic soy pills have decreased the episodes of sobbing on the kitchen floor events substantially.
- Leaving what I thought was going to be the greatest love and the only love of my life behind. Sadly, I haven’t really missed him. We were so hurt by the end that I couldn’t begin to miss him.
- Discovering my voice literally and figuratively. Who knew karaoke could be good therapy?
- Learned to trust myself, at least creatively. Still working on the other parts.
- My mother calling me an “artist” without rolling her eyes. Twice.
- My father. That’s all I can say about him. He is my heart. My mother is my soul.
- The on-going journey of discovery that my relationship with my sister is.
- Making “Cinderella Drives A Pick-Up”, which was so much more than a film. It was a transforming event in my life, the way “Lloyd’s” was last year. And, coincidentally, I unpacked the “Lloyd’s” prop box while preparing for the pick-up shoot day for Cinderella. Found my favorite props from my favorite show – Bob’s water dish, Porpy’s nose, and a handful of others you’ll find scattered around my new apartment.
- Oh, yeah, my new apartment. Words cannot describe what this means. Even if it’s only for four months, it will change my life.
- New-found support and guidance from Paul at the Ark. A pleasant and flattering discovery.
- Discovering that it is possible to love again. And now just trying to figure out how.
Just some of the things that came to mind immediately. I’m sure I’ll find others. Just know that I am grateful and blessed to have the life I have, even if sometimes I forget that part. I have days where I am so overwhelmed by the life God has given me now that I almost cannot contain myself. So if you see tears in my eyes over the next week or so, know that they are tears of joy and wonder, gratitude for those special ones near and dear to me, and not tears of sorrow. I’m hoping that those are dormant, at least for a while.
And appropriately it arrived as I realized it’s been exactly a year since I told my ex I was through with us. Hard to believe.
It’s been a year of incredible joy and devastating sorrow. One of indescribable pleasure followed by crippling depression. One of undeniable accomplishment hand in hand with paralyzing loneliness.
Pardon me if this is redundant but it feels like a perfect time to really look back at what this year has brought. (in no particular order)
- this time last year, I was preparing to go into the 48 Hour Film Project, alternately breathless with anticipation and terrified of working on this project with him. He didn’t want me to do it and then decided to try to make it “our” project instead of mine. The final straw. I told him I was done the Tuesday before the film started. It was the hardest yet the easiest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life. I’ve never been more clear about what I wanted than that night.
- this time last year, I was coming off of a series of very successful projects – USC One Act Playwriting Festival, where we were again the audience fav, the Slamdance staged reading (told it was one of the best in five years), and part way through the extension of “Lloyd’s Prayer”, the show that changed my life. Professionally, I could see the beginnings of the path in front of me.
- I discovered a whole new group of amazing, creative, inspiring friends who never realized I wasn’t the artist I wanted to be. They have guided me, chided me, held me when I fell, challenged me, encouraged me, cried with me, laughed with me, sang with me a whole lot, and loved me more than I have ever felt loved in my life. It started with my boys – Chairman, AJ and Peter – and grew to include the most incredible group of women I have ever had in my life – Monica, Patty Jean, Tracey, Anna B., Tiffany, Erin, Misha, Bibi, Amy the writer, Bonnie, and my very dearest Zadra and all the feisty, funny, gifted persons at the Ark. I rediscovered some close friends like Erik. I literally could not have gotten through this year without you all, particularly Z and CB, more recently including Monica and Patty Jean. Pardon me if I have forgotten someone. There are so many others from Koji’s and Bigfoot and Dalt’s and Universal that I cannot possibly list you all here. And my older, darling friends whose lives have changed so much yet we still hang on – Barbara and Kim. My heart is so full with all of you.
- I discovered I am a writer. This blog and the Wraith has given me a voice and a life I never knew I could have. I have become stronger, both as a person and as an artist through this expression.
- I have two tattoos that mean the world to me and I am grateful for every day.
- The fondest memories of a very joy-filled, silly, exhausting trip to Vegas. Recap – much margaritas, legless karaoke, screaming like a girl, laughing until my face hurt, the lonely un-scored Marine, naked vampires. Thank you, CB, for everything that weekend.
- Lost a few friends along the way who still try to be supportive but look at me like I’ve grown two heads. That’s a very hard thing to deal with. I am still me, however, more me than I have ever felt and I think it’s hard for some to accept that.
- Truly lost a friend recently who was a dear, sweet soul who always made me feel special and sweet. We were not close but I miss his spirit. May he bring his gifts and heart to heaven to share with those there. Alan, you are missed.
- Heartbreaking falling out with one who I thought was going to be so important and who turned out not to be.
- Almost a year with an incredible, goofy, funny, complicated roomie who I was so glad to have and to count as a friend. Yeah, and her little dogs, too.
- Embraced that I am a director. That’s what started this whole thing.
- Discovered that depression can be overcome and can be dealt with, maybe not all the time but more often than not, at least in my case. A combination of finding myself, accepting myself and the magic soy pills have decreased the episodes of sobbing on the kitchen floor events substantially.
- Leaving what I thought was going to be the greatest love and the only love of my life behind. Sadly, I haven’t really missed him. We were so hurt by the end that I couldn’t begin to miss him.
- Discovering my voice literally and figuratively. Who knew karaoke could be good therapy?
- Learned to trust myself, at least creatively. Still working on the other parts.
- My mother calling me an “artist” without rolling her eyes. Twice.
- My father. That’s all I can say about him. He is my heart. My mother is my soul.
- The on-going journey of discovery that my relationship with my sister is.
- Making “Cinderella Drives A Pick-Up”, which was so much more than a film. It was a transforming event in my life, the way “Lloyd’s” was last year. And, coincidentally, I unpacked the “Lloyd’s” prop box while preparing for the pick-up shoot day for Cinderella. Found my favorite props from my favorite show – Bob’s water dish, Porpy’s nose, and a handful of others you’ll find scattered around my new apartment.
- Oh, yeah, my new apartment. Words cannot describe what this means. Even if it’s only for four months, it will change my life.
- New-found support and guidance from Paul at the Ark. A pleasant and flattering discovery.
- Discovering that it is possible to love again. And now just trying to figure out how.
Just some of the things that came to mind immediately. I’m sure I’ll find others. Just know that I am grateful and blessed to have the life I have, even if sometimes I forget that part. I have days where I am so overwhelmed by the life God has given me now that I almost cannot contain myself. So if you see tears in my eyes over the next week or so, know that they are tears of joy and wonder, gratitude for those special ones near and dear to me, and not tears of sorrow. I’m hoping that those are dormant, at least for a while.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Question but not seeking an answer really
How do you reach a heart that is so protected?
So much more that I’ve written on this but, for some reason, feels too personal to post. But had to pose the question. Not really looking for an answer but wanted to share where I am. Guess I just needed to see it in writing to begin to figure it out.
Wow, how’s this for obtuse and not telling you anything?
So much more that I’ve written on this but, for some reason, feels too personal to post. But had to pose the question. Not really looking for an answer but wanted to share where I am. Guess I just needed to see it in writing to begin to figure it out.
Wow, how’s this for obtuse and not telling you anything?
Saturday, June 17, 2006
The math of relationships
Imagine what we women could accomplish… if we could just stop thinking about men.
I look at the hours my friends and I have spent this week talking about the men in our lives and why they do what they do and what do they mean when they do this and how could they and why do they… Wow, we could have found the cure for cancer in the time we’ve spent ruminating on their intentions and their emotions and their motivations.
And, really, I think it breaks down like this.
Women do advanced level algebra when it comes to relationships. If x = y then… Most of our thoughts about the men in our lives always seem to come down to the “if…then” algebraic equation. We fill board after board after board with symbols and equations and theories and logarithms and theorems. We make John Nash look like a first-grader with all our figuring and evaluating and analysis. Okay, so we can’t balance our checkbooks and most women cannot figure out how to put gas in their cars or program their VCR’s. But we can give you theories down to their childhood influences about why a man behaves a certain way. We can cite numerous articles (mostly from Glamour and Cosmo) and books (Dr. Phil, Dr. Laura, anyone with a fake Dr. credit in front of their name), give you discourses by experts (Oprah, Montel), make charts about why and when and how. We are experts on the fictitious study of the male psyche, thinking that all of this analysis and discussion and research will give us an answer.
We also tend to think that men spend as much time thinking about us and figuring us out as we do them.
Men, however, just don’t. They’re very much the 1+1=2 variety. They see what’s in front of them and that’s it. They don’t spend hours on the phone with their buddies going, “do you think she meant this when she said that?” Their conversations are much more basic, I’m sure. “Hey.” “Hey.” “So you hung out with her this week?” “Yeah.” “Cool.” “Yeah.” They wouldn’t know what to do with a logarithm if it bite them in the ass. I think their figuring and calculating goes on underneath their conscious mind and maybe even underneath their subconscious mind, like the way OS X works on my Ibook. I don’t know it’s there or working until it’s not working anymore. Thoughts of us pop up like little reminders on a computer, triggered by something that makes them go, oh, I should send this to her or I should remember to call her. Like a grocery list. Oh, yeah, and don’t forget to get bread. If the relationship requires more than one simple equation, they just can’t handle it.
And that’s where the crossed signals come in. We women spend our time obsessing and figuring and calculating (not in that bad, manipulative way) while they spend their time focused on things like sports scores or how they could score with women, not realizing that there are probably a handful already standing around them, analyzing them. So while we’re assuming that they are just as obsessed as we are, they’re just not. And that’s why they’re surprised and taken by surprise when we finally smack them in the head and say, hey, didn’t you know I was interested, or, hey, didn’t you know that you hurt me when you did this? The answer is, no, they probably didn’t. And it’s not that their stupid or that they’re not paying attention. They’re just not built to think the way that we do.
Somewhere in the middle is where we must find the perfect way to meet. We women have to learn to approach men like we’re remedial school teachers, reaching out and tutoring the men we love (or that we want to love) in the ways that we figure. We need to take our time and remember that they’re just not operating on the same level that we are. And men maybe need to step up their end a little and become aware that, when dealing with the women in their lives, that they may need to do a little homework. Now, I’m not suggesting that every man avidly watch Oprah and Dr. Phil. For the most part, we all already know the things that these people are telling us. Men just need to be aware that there is another level on which they can think. And that we’re already operating on that level. They don’t need to understand the equations that we put up, they just need to understand that a lot of thought went into those equations and take the time to listen to the equation and see where they can fit it. Then we women need to slow down and try to go back to basics when it comes to relationships. Sometimes, 1+1 really does equal 2, whether we want it to or not. Sometimes, what seems like a well-thought out manipulation, a carefully constructed avoidance is just him operating on that basic level.
That simple equation – 1+1=2 – can be the most frightening of all equations in the world. That equation means being vulnerable, means giving things up, means being something most men are not prepared to. So we, as women, need to educate our men in our theories, our New Math, shall we say. Yes, 1+1=2 but, if you add the proper “if… then” to it, it can mean a lot of freedom to continue to be who you are, a lot of variation in that equation, in that 2 doesn’t always need to be attached at the hip. You can be 1, I can be 1, and we can come together and be 2 “if… then”.
Once we get that concept down, then we can move on to the trigonometry of deeply committed relationships and all the complications that go along with that. But if we can both find a way to join the simplicity of 1+1 with the elegance of “if… then”, maybe we can get past some of the clutter and just reach out to each other on a simple level, an honest level, and leave all the machinations behind and just be.
I look at the hours my friends and I have spent this week talking about the men in our lives and why they do what they do and what do they mean when they do this and how could they and why do they… Wow, we could have found the cure for cancer in the time we’ve spent ruminating on their intentions and their emotions and their motivations.
And, really, I think it breaks down like this.
Women do advanced level algebra when it comes to relationships. If x = y then… Most of our thoughts about the men in our lives always seem to come down to the “if…then” algebraic equation. We fill board after board after board with symbols and equations and theories and logarithms and theorems. We make John Nash look like a first-grader with all our figuring and evaluating and analysis. Okay, so we can’t balance our checkbooks and most women cannot figure out how to put gas in their cars or program their VCR’s. But we can give you theories down to their childhood influences about why a man behaves a certain way. We can cite numerous articles (mostly from Glamour and Cosmo) and books (Dr. Phil, Dr. Laura, anyone with a fake Dr. credit in front of their name), give you discourses by experts (Oprah, Montel), make charts about why and when and how. We are experts on the fictitious study of the male psyche, thinking that all of this analysis and discussion and research will give us an answer.
We also tend to think that men spend as much time thinking about us and figuring us out as we do them.
Men, however, just don’t. They’re very much the 1+1=2 variety. They see what’s in front of them and that’s it. They don’t spend hours on the phone with their buddies going, “do you think she meant this when she said that?” Their conversations are much more basic, I’m sure. “Hey.” “Hey.” “So you hung out with her this week?” “Yeah.” “Cool.” “Yeah.” They wouldn’t know what to do with a logarithm if it bite them in the ass. I think their figuring and calculating goes on underneath their conscious mind and maybe even underneath their subconscious mind, like the way OS X works on my Ibook. I don’t know it’s there or working until it’s not working anymore. Thoughts of us pop up like little reminders on a computer, triggered by something that makes them go, oh, I should send this to her or I should remember to call her. Like a grocery list. Oh, yeah, and don’t forget to get bread. If the relationship requires more than one simple equation, they just can’t handle it.
And that’s where the crossed signals come in. We women spend our time obsessing and figuring and calculating (not in that bad, manipulative way) while they spend their time focused on things like sports scores or how they could score with women, not realizing that there are probably a handful already standing around them, analyzing them. So while we’re assuming that they are just as obsessed as we are, they’re just not. And that’s why they’re surprised and taken by surprise when we finally smack them in the head and say, hey, didn’t you know I was interested, or, hey, didn’t you know that you hurt me when you did this? The answer is, no, they probably didn’t. And it’s not that their stupid or that they’re not paying attention. They’re just not built to think the way that we do.
Somewhere in the middle is where we must find the perfect way to meet. We women have to learn to approach men like we’re remedial school teachers, reaching out and tutoring the men we love (or that we want to love) in the ways that we figure. We need to take our time and remember that they’re just not operating on the same level that we are. And men maybe need to step up their end a little and become aware that, when dealing with the women in their lives, that they may need to do a little homework. Now, I’m not suggesting that every man avidly watch Oprah and Dr. Phil. For the most part, we all already know the things that these people are telling us. Men just need to be aware that there is another level on which they can think. And that we’re already operating on that level. They don’t need to understand the equations that we put up, they just need to understand that a lot of thought went into those equations and take the time to listen to the equation and see where they can fit it. Then we women need to slow down and try to go back to basics when it comes to relationships. Sometimes, 1+1 really does equal 2, whether we want it to or not. Sometimes, what seems like a well-thought out manipulation, a carefully constructed avoidance is just him operating on that basic level.
That simple equation – 1+1=2 – can be the most frightening of all equations in the world. That equation means being vulnerable, means giving things up, means being something most men are not prepared to. So we, as women, need to educate our men in our theories, our New Math, shall we say. Yes, 1+1=2 but, if you add the proper “if… then” to it, it can mean a lot of freedom to continue to be who you are, a lot of variation in that equation, in that 2 doesn’t always need to be attached at the hip. You can be 1, I can be 1, and we can come together and be 2 “if… then”.
Once we get that concept down, then we can move on to the trigonometry of deeply committed relationships and all the complications that go along with that. But if we can both find a way to join the simplicity of 1+1 with the elegance of “if… then”, maybe we can get past some of the clutter and just reach out to each other on a simple level, an honest level, and leave all the machinations behind and just be.
Friday, June 16, 2006
Emotional whiplash.
Fuck.
Furious.
Fear?
Tough shit.
Deal with it.
Or don’t.
Pick one.
I deserve better.
Especially from you.
Furious.
Fear?
Tough shit.
Deal with it.
Or don’t.
Pick one.
I deserve better.
Especially from you.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Progress in leaps and bounds
I guess it makes sense that the more my living space becomes organized, the more I feel like I’m coming into myself.
Yesterday and today have been days of more discovery and self-satisfaction with what I’m finding.
Yesterday (Tuesday), I felt really, really good about myself, about my life, about what I’ve accomplished and what I have yet to accomplish. I looked in the mirror and thought, damn, I’m an amazing woman and if the OOMA can’t figure that out or deal with that, then fuck him. Kinda healthy attitude, I think. That feistiness kept me going throughout the day.
Today, I reclaimed myself legally, as much as I can right now. I went into the bank and dropped my married name from my main personal account. I had done that with my business account when I opened it but I had a few things trickling in on my personal account so I had to leave it. And it was frustrating me and making me almost angry every time I had to sign my name with his last name still attached to it. Today, I signed as me. Simple, short, just me. And it felt so good. Luckily, I kept my maiden name as part of my legal name so it makes it easier to change it on some things since I’m just dropping part of the name. Let’s see if the DMV and Social Security agree so I don’t have to spent $500 to get my name back.
I saw my ex today as we’re still tying up loose ends with taxes, etc. I felt kind of sad for him because I know he’ll never understand why I had to leave. We talked about our deceased cat, Costello, who was so important to him. I found her box with her ashes in it as I unpacked and asked him if he wanted her back. He choked up. He loved that cat more than I think he loved me sometimes. We decided I should keep her for now. He asked about things in my life and I still don’t feel like I can share anything with him. He hurt me so badly and made me feel so worthless that I just cannot afford to let him in at all right now. I don’t know if I ever will be able to. He mentioned that he hasn’t been able to write and, though I felt sorry for him for a moment, I felt like saying, now you know how I felt. Having your creativity stifled by things beyond your control is frustrating. Now he’s feeling it. And I don’t really feel that sorry for him. And maybe that’s bad, but it’s how I feel.
It’s strange, when I see him, to think about my life only a year ago. How different it was. How unhappy we both were. How the future was so bleak and so uncertain. It’s strange to think what might have happened had he been able to let me make one simple film without his interference. It’s strange to think that one decision and we probably would still be together. It’s strange to think that I can barely remember what it was like to be with him. I walked out of his office, missing a bit that life we had. I missed when we were good, when we were connected, when we were really a team and not two separate, lonely, angry people. Now, however, I cannot imagine going back to that life. There hadn’t been anything there for a very long time and there is definitely nothing left to even ponder going back to. I can only hope he finds some happiness and someone to help him find a way to be the man he was when we first met. To find his heart and his emotion again and not shut himself up and cut himself off from the world. That would break my heart if he did that. But it’s his choice now, not mine.
I choose to live. To live this life that I am just now beginning to create. To live this life that I longed for when we were together. To live the life I had seen us living together at the start but that never came to be. To live the life that makes me free and full and satisfied in ways I never thought I could feel. To live this life and maybe find someone else to share at least a part of this life with. Or live this life fully and completely by myself, if that’s what’s meant to be. To live. That’s what I want. It’s that simple. To live – fully, joyfully, completely.
Yesterday and today have been days of more discovery and self-satisfaction with what I’m finding.
Yesterday (Tuesday), I felt really, really good about myself, about my life, about what I’ve accomplished and what I have yet to accomplish. I looked in the mirror and thought, damn, I’m an amazing woman and if the OOMA can’t figure that out or deal with that, then fuck him. Kinda healthy attitude, I think. That feistiness kept me going throughout the day.
Today, I reclaimed myself legally, as much as I can right now. I went into the bank and dropped my married name from my main personal account. I had done that with my business account when I opened it but I had a few things trickling in on my personal account so I had to leave it. And it was frustrating me and making me almost angry every time I had to sign my name with his last name still attached to it. Today, I signed as me. Simple, short, just me. And it felt so good. Luckily, I kept my maiden name as part of my legal name so it makes it easier to change it on some things since I’m just dropping part of the name. Let’s see if the DMV and Social Security agree so I don’t have to spent $500 to get my name back.
I saw my ex today as we’re still tying up loose ends with taxes, etc. I felt kind of sad for him because I know he’ll never understand why I had to leave. We talked about our deceased cat, Costello, who was so important to him. I found her box with her ashes in it as I unpacked and asked him if he wanted her back. He choked up. He loved that cat more than I think he loved me sometimes. We decided I should keep her for now. He asked about things in my life and I still don’t feel like I can share anything with him. He hurt me so badly and made me feel so worthless that I just cannot afford to let him in at all right now. I don’t know if I ever will be able to. He mentioned that he hasn’t been able to write and, though I felt sorry for him for a moment, I felt like saying, now you know how I felt. Having your creativity stifled by things beyond your control is frustrating. Now he’s feeling it. And I don’t really feel that sorry for him. And maybe that’s bad, but it’s how I feel.
It’s strange, when I see him, to think about my life only a year ago. How different it was. How unhappy we both were. How the future was so bleak and so uncertain. It’s strange to think what might have happened had he been able to let me make one simple film without his interference. It’s strange to think that one decision and we probably would still be together. It’s strange to think that I can barely remember what it was like to be with him. I walked out of his office, missing a bit that life we had. I missed when we were good, when we were connected, when we were really a team and not two separate, lonely, angry people. Now, however, I cannot imagine going back to that life. There hadn’t been anything there for a very long time and there is definitely nothing left to even ponder going back to. I can only hope he finds some happiness and someone to help him find a way to be the man he was when we first met. To find his heart and his emotion again and not shut himself up and cut himself off from the world. That would break my heart if he did that. But it’s his choice now, not mine.
I choose to live. To live this life that I am just now beginning to create. To live this life that I longed for when we were together. To live the life I had seen us living together at the start but that never came to be. To live the life that makes me free and full and satisfied in ways I never thought I could feel. To live this life and maybe find someone else to share at least a part of this life with. Or live this life fully and completely by myself, if that’s what’s meant to be. To live. That’s what I want. It’s that simple. To live – fully, joyfully, completely.
Beginning...
I realized as I sat down to write this blog that I’m overwhelmed with things to write about. I’ll try to keep this coherent and moderately short.
I love my new space. It’s still chaos, which has to be un-chaos by Friday as we are shooting here, but it’s my own space. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad I had Tiff as my roomie for almost a year. It was great to know that there was someone there and that I wasn’t alone. She was a terrific shoulder to cry on and a great gal to gossip and try to figure out men with. I am grateful for the time spent there. But am very happy to be on my own. This is where I need to be.
I was finding it hard to process in the other space, I think because it felt temporary. I knew when I moved in with Tiffany that it would probably be temporary. I knew eventually I’d want to be on my own. And I think that temporary feeling became a problem because I didn’t feel like I had my feet under me. Now that I’m kind of settled here, and because of things I learned/figured out on Cinderella, I’m now feeling more strong in myself, more settled in my life. I’ve actually begun to feel moderately content about where I am. I’ve dipped into the blues a bit, which I accept that I will always do, but at least they’re not the crippling, debilitating kind which I have fought with so much in the last couple of years. I feel like I am putting so much of my past behind me, trying to focus on the future, letting go of what I cannot control.
Weirdly enough, “Rescue Me” last night reminded me of one of my favorite books, which I thought I would peruse again as it feels relevant right now – “The Tao of Pooh.” It explains Taoism, using Winnie The Pooh as the example. It’s about just accepting, just dealing with what is in front of you. Yes, you have to make practical considerations for the future and plan, but you also need to know when to just let nature take its course and not judge whether it’s good or bad. It just is. I need to embrace that philosophy more. Don’t push, don’t manipulate, don’t try to figure out things that can’t be figured out. Just be, just accept, just embrace. Change what you can but accept that there are things you can’t. Hard philosophy but one I aim to more fully encompass.
Just being alone these two weeks here has brought me such peace. The first few days were extremely difficult as I have forgotten how to be alone. I may never do that well. But I’m learning to enjoy the simple things about being alone for the first time in 17 years – putting things where I want them to be, watching what I want, not worrying about whether clothes are on the floor or not, no pressure to be something for somebody else all the time. Just existing in my own space, in my own time. I had forgotten how important that is because I had been existing in someone else’s space on his time for so long.
I know my journey through this mid-life is not over, not by a long means. And I know there are roadblocks and things that will blind-side me as I go. I know that this feeling of contentment may be temporary and tomorrow may leave me devastated on the kitchen floor again (I don’t know why it always seems to start in the kitchen). I know there is heartbreak and anger and sadness that will come because that is the nature of life. But I also know that there are great things to come, great discoveries to be made. For the first time in a long time, I am excited about what is to come instead of frightened and hesitant.
I know I will stumble and fall along the way but I know that there are hands to catch me and hold me up. I am increasingly grateful for the incredible creatives in my life because they are my lifeblood. They make my dreams seem possible. They don’t make me feel foolish for wanting to learn to play my guitar or try my hand at drumming. They don’t make me feel incompetent and uncertain and ridiculous. They make me feel powerful, smart, competent, capable, able to leap tall-ish buildings in a single bound. Their belief and their trust in me, both as an artist and as a friend, is what has gotten me through those dark black times and made me step back off that ledge so many times. I would say I wish I had discovered this earlier but then I don’t think I would have understood its power if I had.
And I feel ready to reach out to someone now. I know I’ve talked about being lonely and the struggles with what to do with OOMA. But these past few weeks have given me the chance to look at my marriage, the scars left behind, the wounds that are maybe not 100% healed, and do an inventory on myself. And I am by no means healed or recovered or whatever one is after the end of a long term relationship, but I feel like I am beginning to put together the toolkit that will enable me to let myself be open to someone again. I think the biggest thing with OOMA is that I wasn’t ready to be hurt again, I wasn’t ready to be open and let him in. And that may have driven him a step or two back. He definitely isn’t gone away but there is a distance there that I am partially responsible for. I’m still scared of what might happen if I do let him in but I think now I am ready to explore that possibility, if he’s still there and still willing. If not, then I’ll have to find another OOMA and try that one. The thing is, I’m ready to try. Scared, worried, kinda of terrified, but it’s time. Trusting that instinct, that’s where I am right now.
Okay, this did go on longer than I had expected. I will sum things up with this – there is a lot of change going on right now, not just with me, but with so many others. I feel, for the first time in a long time, that I am ready to embrace this change and take what the universe has in store for me. The next couple of weeks are going to be very exiciting, with a day of shooting pick-ups on Cinderella Friday, the 48 Hour Film project next weekend (I CANNOT WAIT!!!!!), finishing the edit on Cinderella, sending “Dark Guitar” off to festivals (48 Hour Film project from last year), finishing “Live at 5,” my new screenplay which has a reading at the Ark on July 11th, and my dearest, bestest friend, Kim, and her family coming down to visit from Winnipeg. Wow, that’s a lot. But I couldn’t be happier. And I can’t wait to see what the rest of the summer – and the rest of my life – has in store.
I love my new space. It’s still chaos, which has to be un-chaos by Friday as we are shooting here, but it’s my own space. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad I had Tiff as my roomie for almost a year. It was great to know that there was someone there and that I wasn’t alone. She was a terrific shoulder to cry on and a great gal to gossip and try to figure out men with. I am grateful for the time spent there. But am very happy to be on my own. This is where I need to be.
I was finding it hard to process in the other space, I think because it felt temporary. I knew when I moved in with Tiffany that it would probably be temporary. I knew eventually I’d want to be on my own. And I think that temporary feeling became a problem because I didn’t feel like I had my feet under me. Now that I’m kind of settled here, and because of things I learned/figured out on Cinderella, I’m now feeling more strong in myself, more settled in my life. I’ve actually begun to feel moderately content about where I am. I’ve dipped into the blues a bit, which I accept that I will always do, but at least they’re not the crippling, debilitating kind which I have fought with so much in the last couple of years. I feel like I am putting so much of my past behind me, trying to focus on the future, letting go of what I cannot control.
Weirdly enough, “Rescue Me” last night reminded me of one of my favorite books, which I thought I would peruse again as it feels relevant right now – “The Tao of Pooh.” It explains Taoism, using Winnie The Pooh as the example. It’s about just accepting, just dealing with what is in front of you. Yes, you have to make practical considerations for the future and plan, but you also need to know when to just let nature take its course and not judge whether it’s good or bad. It just is. I need to embrace that philosophy more. Don’t push, don’t manipulate, don’t try to figure out things that can’t be figured out. Just be, just accept, just embrace. Change what you can but accept that there are things you can’t. Hard philosophy but one I aim to more fully encompass.
Just being alone these two weeks here has brought me such peace. The first few days were extremely difficult as I have forgotten how to be alone. I may never do that well. But I’m learning to enjoy the simple things about being alone for the first time in 17 years – putting things where I want them to be, watching what I want, not worrying about whether clothes are on the floor or not, no pressure to be something for somebody else all the time. Just existing in my own space, in my own time. I had forgotten how important that is because I had been existing in someone else’s space on his time for so long.
I know my journey through this mid-life is not over, not by a long means. And I know there are roadblocks and things that will blind-side me as I go. I know that this feeling of contentment may be temporary and tomorrow may leave me devastated on the kitchen floor again (I don’t know why it always seems to start in the kitchen). I know there is heartbreak and anger and sadness that will come because that is the nature of life. But I also know that there are great things to come, great discoveries to be made. For the first time in a long time, I am excited about what is to come instead of frightened and hesitant.
I know I will stumble and fall along the way but I know that there are hands to catch me and hold me up. I am increasingly grateful for the incredible creatives in my life because they are my lifeblood. They make my dreams seem possible. They don’t make me feel foolish for wanting to learn to play my guitar or try my hand at drumming. They don’t make me feel incompetent and uncertain and ridiculous. They make me feel powerful, smart, competent, capable, able to leap tall-ish buildings in a single bound. Their belief and their trust in me, both as an artist and as a friend, is what has gotten me through those dark black times and made me step back off that ledge so many times. I would say I wish I had discovered this earlier but then I don’t think I would have understood its power if I had.
And I feel ready to reach out to someone now. I know I’ve talked about being lonely and the struggles with what to do with OOMA. But these past few weeks have given me the chance to look at my marriage, the scars left behind, the wounds that are maybe not 100% healed, and do an inventory on myself. And I am by no means healed or recovered or whatever one is after the end of a long term relationship, but I feel like I am beginning to put together the toolkit that will enable me to let myself be open to someone again. I think the biggest thing with OOMA is that I wasn’t ready to be hurt again, I wasn’t ready to be open and let him in. And that may have driven him a step or two back. He definitely isn’t gone away but there is a distance there that I am partially responsible for. I’m still scared of what might happen if I do let him in but I think now I am ready to explore that possibility, if he’s still there and still willing. If not, then I’ll have to find another OOMA and try that one. The thing is, I’m ready to try. Scared, worried, kinda of terrified, but it’s time. Trusting that instinct, that’s where I am right now.
Okay, this did go on longer than I had expected. I will sum things up with this – there is a lot of change going on right now, not just with me, but with so many others. I feel, for the first time in a long time, that I am ready to embrace this change and take what the universe has in store for me. The next couple of weeks are going to be very exiciting, with a day of shooting pick-ups on Cinderella Friday, the 48 Hour Film project next weekend (I CANNOT WAIT!!!!!), finishing the edit on Cinderella, sending “Dark Guitar” off to festivals (48 Hour Film project from last year), finishing “Live at 5,” my new screenplay which has a reading at the Ark on July 11th, and my dearest, bestest friend, Kim, and her family coming down to visit from Winnipeg. Wow, that’s a lot. But I couldn’t be happier. And I can’t wait to see what the rest of the summer – and the rest of my life – has in store.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Brain working overtime
My brain seems to be doing math problems or something. I can feel it churning away at something and feel like I’m on the verge of figuring out the universe.
Or I need some sleep.
Moving seems to have triggered a whole series of connections in my head that are teetering like dominoes, waiting for one of them to fall. I just hope that when they do, they’ll make one of those cool patterns that, when you look at it from above, you go, oh, that’s what it’s supposed to be. I feel like that’s where I am. My life is a series of dominoes that are set up and ready to topple. They’ll go one of two ways – cool, neato pattern or complete chaos and disaster. I think the cool pattern will win out because I feel like I’ve been doing a lot of introspective work on myself the last month and feel like I’m lining things up to move forward.
I’m ready to stop saying, “wow, it’s been a year” and “when WE were together” and wondering when I’m going to stop thinking about how things were with him. I saw him this weekend and, kinda sadly, he barely registered on my radar. I know I was so done with him so long ago and now it’s just cleaning up the pieces and putting them away.
Moving has been freeing and disturbing and emotional and revealing. I found so many things hidden away that made me remember the really good times – and there were many – and the really bad times. Things that made me even more convinced that this is exactly the right thing, no matter how hard or lonely or uncertain it is. I threw out things that made me feel good and made me feel vindicated. I threw out my old life.
In about a week, it will be a year since I told him we were through. It’s been an incredible year. Sometimes, I didn’t think I would live through it. Sometimes, I thought I had made the biggest mistake of my life. Sometimes, I thought I had found someone to share this new life with and, sometimes, I’ve thought I’ll be alone for the rest of my life. It’s been a rollercoaster, it’s been an E-ticket ride, it’s been… indescribable.
What has kept me going and kept me alive and kept me knowing I was doing the right thing is this incredibly creative group of people who have embraced me. I have accomplished the most amazing things this year that would not be possible without my bestest friend, Z, and my bestest cheerleader, CB. Without the two of them, I would not be here.
The last week or so has really made me appreciate this change in my life. Chairman and I went to see Vertigo Road at Molly Malone’s. Very talented duo on the Cinderella soundtrack. I sat listening to their exquisite harmonies, my dearest Chairman nearby, and all I could think of was how incredibly blessed I am to be surrounded by these talented people. Then he and I were at Taix later in the week seeing another band from the soundtrack, Alison Pipitone, and joined Z and her gaggle of musician friends, including Kim from Vertigo Road. They all embrace me and make me feel so welcome and so much that I belong with them. Then hanging out with the usual suspects at Koji’s is just icing on the cake.
And the recent blues have been only that – blues. The heart-rending depression seems to have receded for the time being, leaving me to look at my soul and ponder it rather than attack and it and try to make it surrender. My therapist had recommended “curling up” with my questions and my ponderances like I curl up with Twyla – gently, calmly – and ask softly, “why do I feel like this”, instead of shouting at myself – ‘WHY DO I FEEL LIKE THIS?” The curling up seems to be working.
I feel like this anniversary of sorts that is coming up is the turning point, maybe the point where I can truly push the former life away and really, truly embrace this new life. Until I can do that, I will remain stranded in that weird limbo that some people never get out of. Until I can put him in some perspective and put him firmly behind me, I cannot expect to draw my OOMA or any OOMA to me. Until I embrace myself with the gentleness and the care that I am trying to find right now, I cannot embrace someone else with that care.
So I’m going to crawl into bed, let the mind work away at its Rubick’s cube, and hope to find at least one side of it complete upon waking. Then we can work on the other three.
Or I need some sleep.
Moving seems to have triggered a whole series of connections in my head that are teetering like dominoes, waiting for one of them to fall. I just hope that when they do, they’ll make one of those cool patterns that, when you look at it from above, you go, oh, that’s what it’s supposed to be. I feel like that’s where I am. My life is a series of dominoes that are set up and ready to topple. They’ll go one of two ways – cool, neato pattern or complete chaos and disaster. I think the cool pattern will win out because I feel like I’ve been doing a lot of introspective work on myself the last month and feel like I’m lining things up to move forward.
I’m ready to stop saying, “wow, it’s been a year” and “when WE were together” and wondering when I’m going to stop thinking about how things were with him. I saw him this weekend and, kinda sadly, he barely registered on my radar. I know I was so done with him so long ago and now it’s just cleaning up the pieces and putting them away.
Moving has been freeing and disturbing and emotional and revealing. I found so many things hidden away that made me remember the really good times – and there were many – and the really bad times. Things that made me even more convinced that this is exactly the right thing, no matter how hard or lonely or uncertain it is. I threw out things that made me feel good and made me feel vindicated. I threw out my old life.
In about a week, it will be a year since I told him we were through. It’s been an incredible year. Sometimes, I didn’t think I would live through it. Sometimes, I thought I had made the biggest mistake of my life. Sometimes, I thought I had found someone to share this new life with and, sometimes, I’ve thought I’ll be alone for the rest of my life. It’s been a rollercoaster, it’s been an E-ticket ride, it’s been… indescribable.
What has kept me going and kept me alive and kept me knowing I was doing the right thing is this incredibly creative group of people who have embraced me. I have accomplished the most amazing things this year that would not be possible without my bestest friend, Z, and my bestest cheerleader, CB. Without the two of them, I would not be here.
The last week or so has really made me appreciate this change in my life. Chairman and I went to see Vertigo Road at Molly Malone’s. Very talented duo on the Cinderella soundtrack. I sat listening to their exquisite harmonies, my dearest Chairman nearby, and all I could think of was how incredibly blessed I am to be surrounded by these talented people. Then he and I were at Taix later in the week seeing another band from the soundtrack, Alison Pipitone, and joined Z and her gaggle of musician friends, including Kim from Vertigo Road. They all embrace me and make me feel so welcome and so much that I belong with them. Then hanging out with the usual suspects at Koji’s is just icing on the cake.
And the recent blues have been only that – blues. The heart-rending depression seems to have receded for the time being, leaving me to look at my soul and ponder it rather than attack and it and try to make it surrender. My therapist had recommended “curling up” with my questions and my ponderances like I curl up with Twyla – gently, calmly – and ask softly, “why do I feel like this”, instead of shouting at myself – ‘WHY DO I FEEL LIKE THIS?” The curling up seems to be working.
I feel like this anniversary of sorts that is coming up is the turning point, maybe the point where I can truly push the former life away and really, truly embrace this new life. Until I can do that, I will remain stranded in that weird limbo that some people never get out of. Until I can put him in some perspective and put him firmly behind me, I cannot expect to draw my OOMA or any OOMA to me. Until I embrace myself with the gentleness and the care that I am trying to find right now, I cannot embrace someone else with that care.
So I’m going to crawl into bed, let the mind work away at its Rubick’s cube, and hope to find at least one side of it complete upon waking. Then we can work on the other three.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Howl with me, sisters!
Yes, Artemis is back, and she is full and I am undone.
My Panda Express fortune taunts me – “An admirer is too shy to greet you.”
Chaos still reigns in #7 in Atwater Ghetto, not quite as bad as it was but still bad.
I’m exhausted and burned out after a long, difficult, fulfilling, confusing week and indulgently ate Ben & Jerry’s vanilla, fudge, caramel straight from the carton. Luckily, I’m not a big ice cream eater so I only ate a few spoonfuls before I was sated.
Speaking of sated, I am so not sated in ways that, well, too intimate to discuss here. Just know that I need to avoid male contact until Artemis retreats and I’m glad I didn’t throw myself at my dearest friend last night. Well, maybe not glad but relieved. Well, not really relieved just glad I didn’t embarrass myself.
Although the pull of Artemis is not as strong and the swing between the moods is less than it has been. Progress? I hope so.
My brain has been curled up with the thought of identity this week. Mine, of course, because that’s where I am right now. Really trying to figure out who I am. And really trying to figure out what that means. There is a show I produced a long time ago that was just darling and heartbreaking called “Who Am I This Time?”. It’s a lovely play about a man who has no identity he can embrace so he loses himself in theatrical roles and becomes the character he is playing on stage. A woman falls in love with him as his character, trying to get behind that façade and figure out who he is exactly. In the end, they decide to spend their lives playing roles for each other. It’s beautiful and sad and bittersweet. I feel like that sometimes. Who am I this time? How do I figure that out?
I understand where some of that confusion comes from. Family of athletes, I’m the artist. They never really understood me and I never valued my artist until recently. And I am attracted to incredibly talented, passionate men because of their strength and their desires to achieve their dreams. And I lose mine in theirs. That’s a big concern with the recent OOMA because he is so incredibly gifted, complements my talents perfectly, and I know I could learn – and have learned -- so much from him. And that’s probably why I need to not be with him (besides the fact that he probably isn’t interested anyway). I’m not strong enough yet to not become what I think he wants me to be. I’m already doing it and have been doing it for months. “If I wear this, he’ll notice me and he’ll see I can be (fill in the blank) and fall madly in love with me.” Yeah, that’s worked nicely so far.
Tonight, my mind is as full as the moon and just as moody. I am heading for bed soon because I haven’t slept much this week and am just beat. So I should stop trying to think, grab Twyla and put my new sheets on the bed (yay!) and curl up with the rays of the moon, hoping they’ll bring some enlightenment to my muddy brain.
My Panda Express fortune taunts me – “An admirer is too shy to greet you.”
Chaos still reigns in #7 in Atwater Ghetto, not quite as bad as it was but still bad.
I’m exhausted and burned out after a long, difficult, fulfilling, confusing week and indulgently ate Ben & Jerry’s vanilla, fudge, caramel straight from the carton. Luckily, I’m not a big ice cream eater so I only ate a few spoonfuls before I was sated.
Speaking of sated, I am so not sated in ways that, well, too intimate to discuss here. Just know that I need to avoid male contact until Artemis retreats and I’m glad I didn’t throw myself at my dearest friend last night. Well, maybe not glad but relieved. Well, not really relieved just glad I didn’t embarrass myself.
Although the pull of Artemis is not as strong and the swing between the moods is less than it has been. Progress? I hope so.
My brain has been curled up with the thought of identity this week. Mine, of course, because that’s where I am right now. Really trying to figure out who I am. And really trying to figure out what that means. There is a show I produced a long time ago that was just darling and heartbreaking called “Who Am I This Time?”. It’s a lovely play about a man who has no identity he can embrace so he loses himself in theatrical roles and becomes the character he is playing on stage. A woman falls in love with him as his character, trying to get behind that façade and figure out who he is exactly. In the end, they decide to spend their lives playing roles for each other. It’s beautiful and sad and bittersweet. I feel like that sometimes. Who am I this time? How do I figure that out?
I understand where some of that confusion comes from. Family of athletes, I’m the artist. They never really understood me and I never valued my artist until recently. And I am attracted to incredibly talented, passionate men because of their strength and their desires to achieve their dreams. And I lose mine in theirs. That’s a big concern with the recent OOMA because he is so incredibly gifted, complements my talents perfectly, and I know I could learn – and have learned -- so much from him. And that’s probably why I need to not be with him (besides the fact that he probably isn’t interested anyway). I’m not strong enough yet to not become what I think he wants me to be. I’m already doing it and have been doing it for months. “If I wear this, he’ll notice me and he’ll see I can be (fill in the blank) and fall madly in love with me.” Yeah, that’s worked nicely so far.
Tonight, my mind is as full as the moon and just as moody. I am heading for bed soon because I haven’t slept much this week and am just beat. So I should stop trying to think, grab Twyla and put my new sheets on the bed (yay!) and curl up with the rays of the moon, hoping they’ll bring some enlightenment to my muddy brain.
Friday, June 09, 2006
Struggles/choices
This is the struggle. I love my apartment. I love that it’s mine – at least for four months. I love that there is no one here but Twyla. I love being able to decide where things go and how to arrange things without consulting anybody. It’s a luxury I haven’t had for 17 years.
But I am alone.
That’s the struggle. To the point that I almost want my old life back. At least I was lonely with company. Okay, I know, I already hear all of you out there groaning and saying, no, stop, don’t be stupid. I realize that this is not even a real possibility and I know that this life now is going to be – and already is – so much better. And I love my life when I’m with my friends, like tonight. Went to hear Alison Pipitone at Genghis Cohen with Zadra and Damon and their charming friend, Mike. Then off to Koji’s and Chairman and Monica and Patty, et al, which is slowly turning into Koji’s dance club. Bunches of fun.
But I come home alone.
I’m trying to accept that this is time for me to learn about myself, find myself, define myself without someone else influencing that. I’m trying to be open to that luxury of exploration, contemplation of my own navel instead of someone else’s. But I’d love to contemplate another’s navel right now.
I know part of it is that the apartment is nowhere near together. I’ve had a crazy busy insane week of work and some socializing so things are not as they should be. And I don’t do well with my environment in chaos. I did some things today that I hope will remedy that.
But I ache right now for someone to wrap their arms around me. I see my other friends who have left one relationship and gone right into another and I see their struggle with whether that was the right thing for them and I see all the issues that doing that brings up. But at least they have someone to hold them, and someone who’s trying to figure it out with them.
I guess because I spent so many years with someone figuring it out for me without letting me have any input that I should really focus on this time and on who I am, defining who I am. That’s so hard because I was never allowed to look at that. I was never given the time to say, I’m Susan, I’m __________________. It was, I’m his wife, I’m his editor, I’m his director.
I’ve made lists before about who I am. Mostly a long list of adjectives. I guess now the difficult part is looking past those adjectives and defining the complex compound sentences that describe who I am and who I want to be. Part of it is who is Susan, the artist. But a big part of it is who is Susan, the person. I feel like I’m reaching out to grasp on to something to give me a clue as to who I should be. And I guess there’s always been somebody there to tell me. Maybe that’s why I’m longing for someone. At least they could tell me who I am supposed to be instead of making me figure it out for myself.
And that’s where the problems come in. I guess I should be grateful that things aren’t/didn’t/probably won’t work out with the OOMA because, as wonderful and incredible as I think he is, his influence cannot help but shape me, as much as I don’t think he would mean to. Maybe that’s been a big part of why I haven’t done anything to really move it forward. Maybe that’s the heart of my hesitation. How can I find myself if I have someone else helping me? Is that possible?
I’ve never had to define myself in my adult life because there has always been a man in my life to do that. So, as hard as it is, I will have to accept that this is time to be alone, time to find me. And let the glorious possibility of OOMA land in someone else’s arms and make someone else’s life rich and complete. I think he will always be in my life and I am truly grateful for that. I just have to put the heart part of it away and lock it up until I am fully formed and ready to stick my foot out again. I know he won’t be there by the time I’m done and that’s the price, I guess. There’s always a price, a sacrifice with choice. And this is a choice I have to make for me. Maybe, by some slim chance, by the time I figure things out, he’ll still be around, still be available and will find the whole, complete me irresistible. Yeah, ‘cause life works that way.
But I am alone.
That’s the struggle. To the point that I almost want my old life back. At least I was lonely with company. Okay, I know, I already hear all of you out there groaning and saying, no, stop, don’t be stupid. I realize that this is not even a real possibility and I know that this life now is going to be – and already is – so much better. And I love my life when I’m with my friends, like tonight. Went to hear Alison Pipitone at Genghis Cohen with Zadra and Damon and their charming friend, Mike. Then off to Koji’s and Chairman and Monica and Patty, et al, which is slowly turning into Koji’s dance club. Bunches of fun.
But I come home alone.
I’m trying to accept that this is time for me to learn about myself, find myself, define myself without someone else influencing that. I’m trying to be open to that luxury of exploration, contemplation of my own navel instead of someone else’s. But I’d love to contemplate another’s navel right now.
I know part of it is that the apartment is nowhere near together. I’ve had a crazy busy insane week of work and some socializing so things are not as they should be. And I don’t do well with my environment in chaos. I did some things today that I hope will remedy that.
But I ache right now for someone to wrap their arms around me. I see my other friends who have left one relationship and gone right into another and I see their struggle with whether that was the right thing for them and I see all the issues that doing that brings up. But at least they have someone to hold them, and someone who’s trying to figure it out with them.
I guess because I spent so many years with someone figuring it out for me without letting me have any input that I should really focus on this time and on who I am, defining who I am. That’s so hard because I was never allowed to look at that. I was never given the time to say, I’m Susan, I’m __________________. It was, I’m his wife, I’m his editor, I’m his director.
I’ve made lists before about who I am. Mostly a long list of adjectives. I guess now the difficult part is looking past those adjectives and defining the complex compound sentences that describe who I am and who I want to be. Part of it is who is Susan, the artist. But a big part of it is who is Susan, the person. I feel like I’m reaching out to grasp on to something to give me a clue as to who I should be. And I guess there’s always been somebody there to tell me. Maybe that’s why I’m longing for someone. At least they could tell me who I am supposed to be instead of making me figure it out for myself.
And that’s where the problems come in. I guess I should be grateful that things aren’t/didn’t/probably won’t work out with the OOMA because, as wonderful and incredible as I think he is, his influence cannot help but shape me, as much as I don’t think he would mean to. Maybe that’s been a big part of why I haven’t done anything to really move it forward. Maybe that’s the heart of my hesitation. How can I find myself if I have someone else helping me? Is that possible?
I’ve never had to define myself in my adult life because there has always been a man in my life to do that. So, as hard as it is, I will have to accept that this is time to be alone, time to find me. And let the glorious possibility of OOMA land in someone else’s arms and make someone else’s life rich and complete. I think he will always be in my life and I am truly grateful for that. I just have to put the heart part of it away and lock it up until I am fully formed and ready to stick my foot out again. I know he won’t be there by the time I’m done and that’s the price, I guess. There’s always a price, a sacrifice with choice. And this is a choice I have to make for me. Maybe, by some slim chance, by the time I figure things out, he’ll still be around, still be available and will find the whole, complete me irresistible. Yeah, ‘cause life works that way.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Wow, that felt good.
I went to a networking thing tonight for my new client/boss, Jennifer. It was something I helped her put together as part of my job with her. Great panel of directors speaking – Taylor Hackford (White Nights just rocks, Dolores Claiborne just dark), Arlene Sanford (ER, West Wing, A Very Brady Sequel) and many others. A room full of professional women in the entertainment industry. Jennifer is on the board of directors for this organization and I offered to come up early and help set up.
Amazing night of conversation about why there are so few women directing. 7% of the industry, both in film and television. 7%. Think about that. Some statistics say 24% of women directing in TV but, as Lesli Linka Glatter pointed out tonight, if you count the women on the panel only once in those statistics, they become increasingly grim. Between Lesli and Arlene and Mimi Leder, they make up for probably 20% of that 24%, they work so much.
Anyway, I spent the night shamelessly promoting “Cinderella Drives a Pick-Up.” Had my usual bag full of soundtracks, a number of which I just gave out to people who I thought were important enough to have them. Many women were impressed with the accomplishment of shooting Cinderella and that felt good.
What felt even better was when the panel was talking about what women should do to make their mark and direct. All of them – every single one of them – said, grab a digital video camera and shoot a feature. Not a short, a feature. There’s no real difference in the money with digital and a feature makes a better impact. Make sure it’s something you’re passionate about. Just go out and do it. The three women sitting around me who I had talked to about the film all turned to me at the same time. The one next to me whispered, “Wow, that’s what you just did. You’re doing the right thing.”
I’m doing the right thing. I think I know that. And you all have been so incredibly supportive and encouraging and full of praise. But to have total strangers who haven’t seen anything I’ve done, who don’t know me, who have no investment in me look at me and go, wow, you’re doing the right thing, made me feel incredible. I’m doing the right thing. For a change, I really, truly believe that. There was no one there to counter that with some negative thing about “yeah, but…”. There’s no yeah-but.
Then the capper of the night – I went up and introduced myself to Lesli Linka Glatter. She directed on “Third Watch”, one of my all time favorite TV shows, and we chatted about that. I gave her a copy of the soundtrack for the film and explained what it was. She was very excited and responded positively when I asked if she would be interested in being kept on an email list about screenings, etc. She was very interested and wanted me to make sure to let her know what happens. I got a similar response from Arlene Sanford.
It was so nice to be told by women who are in positions that I aspire to tell me that I’m doing the right thing, that I should keep doing it and they’re proud of what I’m doing. I kept thinking, they don’t know me, they don’t even know if the film is any good. But I realized it doesn’t matter. It’s the same with the encouragement and support I get from all of you. It’s not necessarily about the project. Okay, yeah, it’d be great if every project is wondrous and amazing and everybody can truly say, yes, it’s great. But just the fact that there is this unconditional support, unconditional enthusiasm for any project I’m doing from you all and, now, these amazing women just takes my breath away.
I want to remember this moment. I want to remember this feeling, this feeling of absolute trust and belief in myself. I know what I’m doing. I’m doing the right thing. There is no question, there is no hesitation. This is absolutely what I’m meant to do.
Wow, that feels good.
Amazing night of conversation about why there are so few women directing. 7% of the industry, both in film and television. 7%. Think about that. Some statistics say 24% of women directing in TV but, as Lesli Linka Glatter pointed out tonight, if you count the women on the panel only once in those statistics, they become increasingly grim. Between Lesli and Arlene and Mimi Leder, they make up for probably 20% of that 24%, they work so much.
Anyway, I spent the night shamelessly promoting “Cinderella Drives a Pick-Up.” Had my usual bag full of soundtracks, a number of which I just gave out to people who I thought were important enough to have them. Many women were impressed with the accomplishment of shooting Cinderella and that felt good.
What felt even better was when the panel was talking about what women should do to make their mark and direct. All of them – every single one of them – said, grab a digital video camera and shoot a feature. Not a short, a feature. There’s no real difference in the money with digital and a feature makes a better impact. Make sure it’s something you’re passionate about. Just go out and do it. The three women sitting around me who I had talked to about the film all turned to me at the same time. The one next to me whispered, “Wow, that’s what you just did. You’re doing the right thing.”
I’m doing the right thing. I think I know that. And you all have been so incredibly supportive and encouraging and full of praise. But to have total strangers who haven’t seen anything I’ve done, who don’t know me, who have no investment in me look at me and go, wow, you’re doing the right thing, made me feel incredible. I’m doing the right thing. For a change, I really, truly believe that. There was no one there to counter that with some negative thing about “yeah, but…”. There’s no yeah-but.
Then the capper of the night – I went up and introduced myself to Lesli Linka Glatter. She directed on “Third Watch”, one of my all time favorite TV shows, and we chatted about that. I gave her a copy of the soundtrack for the film and explained what it was. She was very excited and responded positively when I asked if she would be interested in being kept on an email list about screenings, etc. She was very interested and wanted me to make sure to let her know what happens. I got a similar response from Arlene Sanford.
It was so nice to be told by women who are in positions that I aspire to tell me that I’m doing the right thing, that I should keep doing it and they’re proud of what I’m doing. I kept thinking, they don’t know me, they don’t even know if the film is any good. But I realized it doesn’t matter. It’s the same with the encouragement and support I get from all of you. It’s not necessarily about the project. Okay, yeah, it’d be great if every project is wondrous and amazing and everybody can truly say, yes, it’s great. But just the fact that there is this unconditional support, unconditional enthusiasm for any project I’m doing from you all and, now, these amazing women just takes my breath away.
I want to remember this moment. I want to remember this feeling, this feeling of absolute trust and belief in myself. I know what I’m doing. I’m doing the right thing. There is no question, there is no hesitation. This is absolutely what I’m meant to do.
Wow, that feels good.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Bunch of incoherent stuff
I’m beat. Been moving crap for five days now. And what did I learn? Too much crap.
Also discovered a lot of anger trapped in those boxes that have been in the storage unit for the past year. Anger I’m not sure I can even explain. His voice coming out of the boxes – “pack this, you may want it” – as I toss shit out. His voice telling me what to do. His voice telling me way too many things that I let him tell me. It’s something I have to look at and move past because it grows stronger every day.
It’s strange how he WAS my life and now I can’t stand the thought of having him in my life at all. I don’t tell him what I’m doing because I don’t want him to know. I don’t even want him over at my new place because I don’t want his energy here. In fact, I smudged the apartment when I moved in, just to cover all the bases and make sure any energy in here was mine and positive, and now I feel like I want to smudge it again once I get really settled to dispel his negative energy that’s been trapped in these boxes. And I guess been trapped in me. I’m stunned at the depth of my anger towards him and haven’t yet found an outlet for it. I can’t let it out on him because it’ll probably kill him. I need to find a way, though, because I don’t want it to fester and really become bitter and resentful.
It’s also been a bit of an emotional roller coaster, unpacking all this stuff. Happy memories, sad memories, angry memories. Some surprises. Some moving things, like finding a picture of a friend of ours who just passed away recently. Found stuff from my first marriage. Found of picture of Shawn and remembered how much I loved him then. I thought he was the most incredible man I had ever met. Still qualifies as one of the sexiest, in my eyes. He could curl my toes just walking in the room. Not sure anyone has done that since him. I dare you to try. Wait, this is how I end up with some weirdo’s hand in my shirt.
The first night here, I was so grateful and moved for having the blessing of my own place. It’s quiet, it’s peaceful, it’s just me. And that’s good. The second night I was overwhelmed with what to do with my life now that I’m here and I’m alone and I can do whatever I want for the first time in almost 20 years. The third night I came to the conclusion I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life and no guy is going to see the inside of my bedroom other than creepy cable guy or someone coming over for a party. Or Erik, since he was here the other day. No one will ever spend the night with me here. That was the third night.
Now, it’s just chaos in here with everything being yanked out of storage. I have to, in fact, put stuff away so I can empty the stuff out of my car because right now, there’s nowhere to put anything.
CHANGING TOPICS
Just thought I’d warn you.
Had two very interesting conversations in the past few days which really tells about how differently men and women communicate. Men apparently don’t want to hear if you care about them. They prefer the high school method of “can you ask him if he likes me and then tell him that I like him and then tell me if he likes me so I can tell you to tell him…” Women would prefer the much more direct approach – and honest approach – “I’m in love with you and I think you’re neat and I want to kiss you.” Watch any romantic comedy, that’s the way women want to be communicated with, as much as we deny it. Why do you think we watch them?
Then I walked with my friend, Anna, for an hour today, analyzing each other’s lives and what we’re both going through right now. Then I think we realized that neither of us knows anything about anything. Although it was nice to talk to someone who is my contemporary. I love Zadra and many of my friends but so many of them are so much younger and don’t understand what coming out of a 17 year relationship is like. She’s coming out of a ten year marriage and we both struggle with the same issues and the same feelings. Are we doing the right thing? Was leaving the right thing? What the hell do I do now? Am I doing the right thing now? How do you know it’s the right thing? Unless you’ve been there, it’s hard to understand coming out of that kind of a committed thing to being completely on your own. I still struggle with making decisions by myself and not having to take someone else into consideration. It feels weird but I’m getting used to it.
Anyway, rambling and tired and happy and mixed up and lonely and thrilled and sad and blue and lonely and happy and anxious and optimistic and so many other things. Maybe the next blog will make more sense and it won’t be after four days of moving in this stupid heat. Thanks for hanging in and trying to follow the thread.
Also discovered a lot of anger trapped in those boxes that have been in the storage unit for the past year. Anger I’m not sure I can even explain. His voice coming out of the boxes – “pack this, you may want it” – as I toss shit out. His voice telling me what to do. His voice telling me way too many things that I let him tell me. It’s something I have to look at and move past because it grows stronger every day.
It’s strange how he WAS my life and now I can’t stand the thought of having him in my life at all. I don’t tell him what I’m doing because I don’t want him to know. I don’t even want him over at my new place because I don’t want his energy here. In fact, I smudged the apartment when I moved in, just to cover all the bases and make sure any energy in here was mine and positive, and now I feel like I want to smudge it again once I get really settled to dispel his negative energy that’s been trapped in these boxes. And I guess been trapped in me. I’m stunned at the depth of my anger towards him and haven’t yet found an outlet for it. I can’t let it out on him because it’ll probably kill him. I need to find a way, though, because I don’t want it to fester and really become bitter and resentful.
It’s also been a bit of an emotional roller coaster, unpacking all this stuff. Happy memories, sad memories, angry memories. Some surprises. Some moving things, like finding a picture of a friend of ours who just passed away recently. Found stuff from my first marriage. Found of picture of Shawn and remembered how much I loved him then. I thought he was the most incredible man I had ever met. Still qualifies as one of the sexiest, in my eyes. He could curl my toes just walking in the room. Not sure anyone has done that since him. I dare you to try. Wait, this is how I end up with some weirdo’s hand in my shirt.
The first night here, I was so grateful and moved for having the blessing of my own place. It’s quiet, it’s peaceful, it’s just me. And that’s good. The second night I was overwhelmed with what to do with my life now that I’m here and I’m alone and I can do whatever I want for the first time in almost 20 years. The third night I came to the conclusion I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life and no guy is going to see the inside of my bedroom other than creepy cable guy or someone coming over for a party. Or Erik, since he was here the other day. No one will ever spend the night with me here. That was the third night.
Now, it’s just chaos in here with everything being yanked out of storage. I have to, in fact, put stuff away so I can empty the stuff out of my car because right now, there’s nowhere to put anything.
CHANGING TOPICS
Just thought I’d warn you.
Had two very interesting conversations in the past few days which really tells about how differently men and women communicate. Men apparently don’t want to hear if you care about them. They prefer the high school method of “can you ask him if he likes me and then tell him that I like him and then tell me if he likes me so I can tell you to tell him…” Women would prefer the much more direct approach – and honest approach – “I’m in love with you and I think you’re neat and I want to kiss you.” Watch any romantic comedy, that’s the way women want to be communicated with, as much as we deny it. Why do you think we watch them?
Then I walked with my friend, Anna, for an hour today, analyzing each other’s lives and what we’re both going through right now. Then I think we realized that neither of us knows anything about anything. Although it was nice to talk to someone who is my contemporary. I love Zadra and many of my friends but so many of them are so much younger and don’t understand what coming out of a 17 year relationship is like. She’s coming out of a ten year marriage and we both struggle with the same issues and the same feelings. Are we doing the right thing? Was leaving the right thing? What the hell do I do now? Am I doing the right thing now? How do you know it’s the right thing? Unless you’ve been there, it’s hard to understand coming out of that kind of a committed thing to being completely on your own. I still struggle with making decisions by myself and not having to take someone else into consideration. It feels weird but I’m getting used to it.
Anyway, rambling and tired and happy and mixed up and lonely and thrilled and sad and blue and lonely and happy and anxious and optimistic and so many other things. Maybe the next blog will make more sense and it won’t be after four days of moving in this stupid heat. Thanks for hanging in and trying to follow the thread.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
The joy of cable installation
How smart must you be to install cable? I realize that there are certain skills required and I am certainly not putting down any cable installers as less than intelligent – except for the genius who installed my cable today. I think he rode the short bus here.
First, he didn’t know if I was entitled to a cable box or not. My first clue was that I didn’t have a cable box and, therefore, since the bill reflected that I was being charged for one, that one should be provided. Oh, said the slack-jawed installer. Guess I should get one outta the truck. Then HE asked ME if I knew how the high speed internet they installed last week was tagged on the box. Huh? Then he spent almost an hour trying to get the cable working after he said, oh, this should be easy. The actual physical cable is already there. All he has to do is turn it on.
Well, apparently Genius Boy didn’t understand the concept of putting the TV on channel 3 to get the cable to work. He couldn’t figure out how to get my TV on channel 3 so, therefore, there was something wrong with the TV. It took me two whole minutes to run through the menu and find the magic sequence to make channel 3 appear (btw, lost my remote some time ago). THEN he tries to convince me that the cable cannot be run through the VCR because there’s something wrong with the VCR. I mentioned that this same set up was working just peachy keen three days ago 20 feet away. Well, ya know, Genius Boy says, when you move stuff, something things happen.
An hour and a half later, after five phone calls to Adelphia on his behalf, including one to find out which color of receipt to leave with me, Genius Boy finally is gone and it took me less than five minutes to reconnect the cable to run through my “broken” VCR.
Meanwhile, Genius Boy is creeping me out in a major way. Imagine Bill or Ted, which ever was the less intelligent of the two, but weirdly creepy in that child molester/rapist kind of way, and that’s my Genius Boy cable buy. Ewwwwwwww.
He’s gone and I’m now way behind on unpacking because he gave me the complete wiggies and I didn’t want to be anywhere near him while he “worked” and didn’t really want to let him out of my sight either. So I basically spent the afternoon wandering around him to make sure he wasn’t taking panties out of my dresser or sacrificing Twyla to the cable gods.
But now he’s gone, cable is working, and maybe I can get something done now!
First, he didn’t know if I was entitled to a cable box or not. My first clue was that I didn’t have a cable box and, therefore, since the bill reflected that I was being charged for one, that one should be provided. Oh, said the slack-jawed installer. Guess I should get one outta the truck. Then HE asked ME if I knew how the high speed internet they installed last week was tagged on the box. Huh? Then he spent almost an hour trying to get the cable working after he said, oh, this should be easy. The actual physical cable is already there. All he has to do is turn it on.
Well, apparently Genius Boy didn’t understand the concept of putting the TV on channel 3 to get the cable to work. He couldn’t figure out how to get my TV on channel 3 so, therefore, there was something wrong with the TV. It took me two whole minutes to run through the menu and find the magic sequence to make channel 3 appear (btw, lost my remote some time ago). THEN he tries to convince me that the cable cannot be run through the VCR because there’s something wrong with the VCR. I mentioned that this same set up was working just peachy keen three days ago 20 feet away. Well, ya know, Genius Boy says, when you move stuff, something things happen.
An hour and a half later, after five phone calls to Adelphia on his behalf, including one to find out which color of receipt to leave with me, Genius Boy finally is gone and it took me less than five minutes to reconnect the cable to run through my “broken” VCR.
Meanwhile, Genius Boy is creeping me out in a major way. Imagine Bill or Ted, which ever was the less intelligent of the two, but weirdly creepy in that child molester/rapist kind of way, and that’s my Genius Boy cable buy. Ewwwwwwww.
He’s gone and I’m now way behind on unpacking because he gave me the complete wiggies and I didn’t want to be anywhere near him while he “worked” and didn’t really want to let him out of my sight either. So I basically spent the afternoon wandering around him to make sure he wasn’t taking panties out of my dresser or sacrificing Twyla to the cable gods.
But now he’s gone, cable is working, and maybe I can get something done now!
Friday, June 02, 2006
Mostly settled.
Damn, even moving 20 feet is a pain in the ass. I’m almost there, though. Got most of the stuff out of #14 tonight. Still have some clothes and kitchen junk but that shouldn’t take long. Had to paint my pretty blue room over there back to neutral because that’s what I had agreed to when I painted it in the first place. Not complaining because I have to paint it back, just complaining because I hate to paint. I like the results, I hate the process. Have spent most of the day doing that. I am now paint covered, dirty and disgusting. I guess maybe it is a good thing there is no one to share my bed with because tonight I’m sure he’d say, hey, see ya tomorrow when you’re not so stinky!
Today (Saturday) tackling my storage unit. I had hoped to get some of that done Friday but suddenly had work to do so I didn’t get over there. Mainly need to get the furniture moved then I can deal with the boxes on Sunday. Need to pick up a couch as well.
It’s weird being on my own after about 17 years. I had a hard time sleeping last night – harder than usual – because I’m getting used to the new noises in the apartment. And Twyla was pacing – apparently she had the same anxiety that Monica’s cat had the other night in their move. She finally settled under the bed after climbing over me, jumping in the window, jumping on my head, back in the window. Under the bed was a good place.
Also weird the emotional stuff this brought up. I kept thinking about my ex and how he was supposed to be the rest of my life. And now, here I am, 44, and starting yet another phase of my life. How did I get from the rest of my life to this? Very, very strange, because it’s the same feeling I had after my first divorce, which followed an extremely short marriage. Time to yet again redefine the rest of my life.
And I can’t help but shake the feeling that I’m going to be alone for a very long time. I don’t know if it’s because there’s something I need to work on and since I’m not doing it right, I’m supposed to be alone until I figure it out. I don’t know if it’s just that I need to be alone right now to heal and to get comfortable with myself. I just don’t know. I do know that I hope I’m very wrong and that this new apartment will bring someone to me. At least to come over for dinner and a movie (when I get my couch). That’s all I really want right now. Someone to cuddle with, someone to hold hands with. The simple things. I’ve had complicated. Don’t really want that right now. Just want simple, comfortable, peaceful. Let’s see, I put it to the universe that I wanted to find my own place and here I am. I put it to the universe that I need money to cover this immediate month’s rent and apparently my client is swamped and will overload me this weekend. How ‘bout, yet again, a request for someone to kiss? That shouldn’t be too hard. Again, what do I know?
I should get in the shower or soak in the tub but my brain is wired and exhausted and strung out and maybe a little high on paint and won’t let me. Hot bath might be a good option, to maybe lull me a little bit.
Today (Saturday) tackling my storage unit. I had hoped to get some of that done Friday but suddenly had work to do so I didn’t get over there. Mainly need to get the furniture moved then I can deal with the boxes on Sunday. Need to pick up a couch as well.
It’s weird being on my own after about 17 years. I had a hard time sleeping last night – harder than usual – because I’m getting used to the new noises in the apartment. And Twyla was pacing – apparently she had the same anxiety that Monica’s cat had the other night in their move. She finally settled under the bed after climbing over me, jumping in the window, jumping on my head, back in the window. Under the bed was a good place.
Also weird the emotional stuff this brought up. I kept thinking about my ex and how he was supposed to be the rest of my life. And now, here I am, 44, and starting yet another phase of my life. How did I get from the rest of my life to this? Very, very strange, because it’s the same feeling I had after my first divorce, which followed an extremely short marriage. Time to yet again redefine the rest of my life.
And I can’t help but shake the feeling that I’m going to be alone for a very long time. I don’t know if it’s because there’s something I need to work on and since I’m not doing it right, I’m supposed to be alone until I figure it out. I don’t know if it’s just that I need to be alone right now to heal and to get comfortable with myself. I just don’t know. I do know that I hope I’m very wrong and that this new apartment will bring someone to me. At least to come over for dinner and a movie (when I get my couch). That’s all I really want right now. Someone to cuddle with, someone to hold hands with. The simple things. I’ve had complicated. Don’t really want that right now. Just want simple, comfortable, peaceful. Let’s see, I put it to the universe that I wanted to find my own place and here I am. I put it to the universe that I need money to cover this immediate month’s rent and apparently my client is swamped and will overload me this weekend. How ‘bout, yet again, a request for someone to kiss? That shouldn’t be too hard. Again, what do I know?
I should get in the shower or soak in the tub but my brain is wired and exhausted and strung out and maybe a little high on paint and won’t let me. Hot bath might be a good option, to maybe lull me a little bit.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
A prayer for my new home.
God, Buddha and any other benevolent creature that is listening:
Thank you, first of all, for the many blessings in my life. I forget sometimes how full my life is of these blessings because they are in many forms and are occasionally easy to overlook. The blessing of my dear friends, my incredible family, the amazing creatives you have surrounded me with. Thank you for the many creative gifts you have given me. Thank you for the healing of my heart that has taken place recently.
Thank you most of all for this new sanctuary. Let me use this place as a haven for the gifts you have given me and let those gifts flourish and grow in this environment. Protect me from the negatives and the circus music and the clowns. Protect me from myself because I can be my own greatest enemy. Let me delve into these gifts and find new ways to bring grace and glory to you for bestowing these gifts upon me. Let me honor the people in my life who have made the pursuit of these gifts a smoother path and who have held their hands out to guide me and heal me and bless me on the way. Help me overcome my fear of the enormous responsibility of this new environment and help me utilize my gifts to find ways to keep the lights on and make sure I can stay here. Help me to conquer the fears that have haunted me, the anger that has recently reared its head, and let them dissipate with the sage smoke that fills this sanctuary currently.
Let these new blessings and discoveries lead me to a new, more fulfilling personal life. Let this led me to find someone to share this new life with, someone to saunter down this path with me. Let this help me heal and move forward.
I know there is nothing in front of me that I cannot handle and that you will guide me, if I would just let you. I’m asking for guidance now. Guide my gifts, guide my path, guide my heart. Show me where you want me to go and then help me get there.
I give you all my sorrows, all my troubles, all my fears and anger because I know you will help them heal. I give you thanks for innumerable blessings and where you have brought me so far. I pray that the rest of the path is just as interesting, just as fulfilling and just as gracious.
I ask in Jesus’ name.
Amen.
and for the Asian/Buddhist side of me, to honor my ancestors…
Om mani padme ohm, om mani padme ohm, om mani padme ohm.
Thank you, first of all, for the many blessings in my life. I forget sometimes how full my life is of these blessings because they are in many forms and are occasionally easy to overlook. The blessing of my dear friends, my incredible family, the amazing creatives you have surrounded me with. Thank you for the many creative gifts you have given me. Thank you for the healing of my heart that has taken place recently.
Thank you most of all for this new sanctuary. Let me use this place as a haven for the gifts you have given me and let those gifts flourish and grow in this environment. Protect me from the negatives and the circus music and the clowns. Protect me from myself because I can be my own greatest enemy. Let me delve into these gifts and find new ways to bring grace and glory to you for bestowing these gifts upon me. Let me honor the people in my life who have made the pursuit of these gifts a smoother path and who have held their hands out to guide me and heal me and bless me on the way. Help me overcome my fear of the enormous responsibility of this new environment and help me utilize my gifts to find ways to keep the lights on and make sure I can stay here. Help me to conquer the fears that have haunted me, the anger that has recently reared its head, and let them dissipate with the sage smoke that fills this sanctuary currently.
Let these new blessings and discoveries lead me to a new, more fulfilling personal life. Let this led me to find someone to share this new life with, someone to saunter down this path with me. Let this help me heal and move forward.
I know there is nothing in front of me that I cannot handle and that you will guide me, if I would just let you. I’m asking for guidance now. Guide my gifts, guide my path, guide my heart. Show me where you want me to go and then help me get there.
I give you all my sorrows, all my troubles, all my fears and anger because I know you will help them heal. I give you thanks for innumerable blessings and where you have brought me so far. I pray that the rest of the path is just as interesting, just as fulfilling and just as gracious.
I ask in Jesus’ name.
Amen.
and for the Asian/Buddhist side of me, to honor my ancestors…
Om mani padme ohm, om mani padme ohm, om mani padme ohm.
I'm happy.
For the first time in a long time, it’s just happy. This calm, peaceful, quiet happy. Most of the time, happy follows deeply depressed so it’s been kind of forced and bipolar kind of happy. Extreme HAPPY!
For the past week maybe it’s just been happy. Part of it is all the discoveries I’ve worked through lately and all the crap that got worked out through the film. Part of it that I think I’m learning to let go, not cling, not hang on to things, thinking they’re going to pass me by and leave me behind. And part of it was really Bonnie’s link to the blog about “normal.” Oh, and the new apartment is a big help, too. I’m glad I had the roomie I had for 10 months. I don’t think I would have done well alone during that time. Tiff was great to talk to, to cry, to bitch to. She’ll still be next door so we can still do that, if we want, if we pass each other on the walkway. But I’m ready for my own space, my own sanctuary. Knowing that tomorrow (tonight?) I’ll be spending my first night there gives me great peace and, again, that little happy.
Tonight added to the happy. Went to hear Vertigo Road. If you’ve got the Cinderella soundtrack, you know what I mean about how great they are. If you don’t, shame on you. Click on the cover to the left of this blog and order one today! Anyway, I love the music this duo makes and they sang the two songs off the soundtrack – Any City and I’ve Been Waiting. Chairman joined me and his company is always a pleasure. The only thing was it wasn’t long enough. I could have listened to these gals all night. They played with a band behind them, which is unusual. It’s usually just Kim and Dawnia and Kim’s guitar. Such a lovely way to spend the evening.
I’m even kind of enjoying my hair getting longer. I’ve worn it so short for so long and I’m kinda digging having it getting to “girly” length. Not sure how long I’ll last. I’m usually very impatient with my hair and don’t want to play with it. We’ll see.
All I know is that I’m not feeing desperate, I’m not feeling panicky that I’m about to lose someone important in my life, I’m not feeling like I’m still searching for “normal.” I think I’ve reached some semblance of that. There are still dark times ahead, I’m sure, but hopefully with one foot in normal, they won’t be so bad. I like this peacefulness that I feel inside and I want to find a way to hang on to that. I think I’m finding the person I want to be, slowly but surely. And that’s a great feeling.
For the past week maybe it’s just been happy. Part of it is all the discoveries I’ve worked through lately and all the crap that got worked out through the film. Part of it that I think I’m learning to let go, not cling, not hang on to things, thinking they’re going to pass me by and leave me behind. And part of it was really Bonnie’s link to the blog about “normal.” Oh, and the new apartment is a big help, too. I’m glad I had the roomie I had for 10 months. I don’t think I would have done well alone during that time. Tiff was great to talk to, to cry, to bitch to. She’ll still be next door so we can still do that, if we want, if we pass each other on the walkway. But I’m ready for my own space, my own sanctuary. Knowing that tomorrow (tonight?) I’ll be spending my first night there gives me great peace and, again, that little happy.
Tonight added to the happy. Went to hear Vertigo Road. If you’ve got the Cinderella soundtrack, you know what I mean about how great they are. If you don’t, shame on you. Click on the cover to the left of this blog and order one today! Anyway, I love the music this duo makes and they sang the two songs off the soundtrack – Any City and I’ve Been Waiting. Chairman joined me and his company is always a pleasure. The only thing was it wasn’t long enough. I could have listened to these gals all night. They played with a band behind them, which is unusual. It’s usually just Kim and Dawnia and Kim’s guitar. Such a lovely way to spend the evening.
I’m even kind of enjoying my hair getting longer. I’ve worn it so short for so long and I’m kinda digging having it getting to “girly” length. Not sure how long I’ll last. I’m usually very impatient with my hair and don’t want to play with it. We’ll see.
All I know is that I’m not feeing desperate, I’m not feeling panicky that I’m about to lose someone important in my life, I’m not feeling like I’m still searching for “normal.” I think I’ve reached some semblance of that. There are still dark times ahead, I’m sure, but hopefully with one foot in normal, they won’t be so bad. I like this peacefulness that I feel inside and I want to find a way to hang on to that. I think I’m finding the person I want to be, slowly but surely. And that’s a great feeling.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)