Lately, with all the stress of trying to find a place to live and issues at work that make me feel like less of a therapist and wanting more, I've been thinking/dreaming/whatever about what I really want out of life.
How I see how my ideal life would be lived is pretty easy. I'd own a bit of land that ideally has lots of trees. There's a place in Denton that I think of, though last I knew it was owned by someone else. But, there are other places I think of when I think of this land. It's also not completely country like in the middle of nowhere. I'd be within 15-20 minutes of a town. So it's pseudo-country.
Anyway. I'd have a house there and maybe an out building that was where I'd do my massages. The out building wouldn't be overly large; probably a small house or a place built out of hay like I've seen in Mother Earth News. The house would be just enough for me and include a craft room.
On Sundays, I'd go to church (UU if possible) and then enjoy the afternoon. In the evening, I'd plan my to do list for the week.
Most days, I'd write and crochet and massage. I'd have some sort of schedule. Like, I'm available to do massages certain times like I do now. Then, with that to do list I'd written, I'd plan accordingly. Do I need to finish a blanket? Great! On Monday I'd work on said blanket around my massage schedule. I'd listen to audiobooks and podcasts or watch TV whilst crafting.
I'd write some. Maybe get those rewrites finished and work on the one series and short stories.
I'd spend the evening on the porch- because of course I'd have a porch- and read or think or whatever.
I'd have friends over.
I'd laugh.
I'd be less anxious.
Sunday, July 23, 2017
Thursday, June 29, 2017
Wanderlust, Runaways, and Blue Highways
My spirit animal is a Bear. As I look back in my past years, I can see this as so. Every year for many now, once November hits, I want to start hibernating. I hate driving at night once that time of year hits. It doesn't wear off until spring officially hits.
But, it starts off slow. Like coming out of the cave and seeing the world anew.
And them comes Memorial Day weekend. That's when my wanderlust hits full force. It's the last weekend of faire. It's move-in weekend for drum corps (has it really been 15 years since I marched?). That's the weekend I see before me a full and invincible summer. I start playing my summer playlist. I pull out tattered and underlined copies of Travels with Charley and Blue Highways. I bring out more Steinbeck novels that are stuffed in an old Doc Marten box and Kate Chopin's The Awakening.
I long to drive again at night. I long for putting the radio on and good songs just start pouring out and I just keep driving. Anywhere. Everywhere.
I dream of my wanderlust and need to run away to merge and I drive until morning finds me and a new perspective. That's the real reason I so often want to run away.
I did once. Run. I was 10 and it was after my first big move from my home town and state to a new town in a completely different state. Fast forward about 10 years and I start dreaming of running away again. I just wanted to get away and start over. I needed to get away from people. I started dreaming of the routes I'd take. I'm over a decade older and maybe none the wiser; but the routes are still there and still the same.
Some days I do still dream of running away. When things start going crazy and I just need to leave the two hour comfort zone that DFW provides. I want to follow William Least-Heat Moon's blue highways. Follow the road Steinbeck took with Charley. Find a way to Chicago and route 66. Go my own run away routes and just see what happens.
I always know the problems and worries will still be around. But sometimes, it feels like running away for even just a little while will help. New perspectives. Time to just walk away for a moment and think. Ask myself the big questions and maybe find answers.
Quo vadimus?
But, it starts off slow. Like coming out of the cave and seeing the world anew.
And them comes Memorial Day weekend. That's when my wanderlust hits full force. It's the last weekend of faire. It's move-in weekend for drum corps (has it really been 15 years since I marched?). That's the weekend I see before me a full and invincible summer. I start playing my summer playlist. I pull out tattered and underlined copies of Travels with Charley and Blue Highways. I bring out more Steinbeck novels that are stuffed in an old Doc Marten box and Kate Chopin's The Awakening.
I long to drive again at night. I long for putting the radio on and good songs just start pouring out and I just keep driving. Anywhere. Everywhere.
I dream of my wanderlust and need to run away to merge and I drive until morning finds me and a new perspective. That's the real reason I so often want to run away.
I did once. Run. I was 10 and it was after my first big move from my home town and state to a new town in a completely different state. Fast forward about 10 years and I start dreaming of running away again. I just wanted to get away and start over. I needed to get away from people. I started dreaming of the routes I'd take. I'm over a decade older and maybe none the wiser; but the routes are still there and still the same.
Some days I do still dream of running away. When things start going crazy and I just need to leave the two hour comfort zone that DFW provides. I want to follow William Least-Heat Moon's blue highways. Follow the road Steinbeck took with Charley. Find a way to Chicago and route 66. Go my own run away routes and just see what happens.
I always know the problems and worries will still be around. But sometimes, it feels like running away for even just a little while will help. New perspectives. Time to just walk away for a moment and think. Ask myself the big questions and maybe find answers.
Quo vadimus?
Saturday, December 31, 2016
Come Dancing
I was sitting at a stop light, listening to an old Wham! song, and I smiled as I remembered the lines from the Kinks song Come Dancing:
The day they tore down the palais
I cried and I cried
The day they tore down the palais
Part of my childhood died.
That's when it hit me: with the celebrity deaths of this year, part of my childhood died. It could probably be said for many of us too. I grew up never knowing a world without Star Wars- the first of which was released three years before I was born. I can't even see a Star Wars movie these days without Reese's pieces because of childhood memories.
I was 11 when Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves came out and I've been watching Alan Rickman ever since. I can't even watch or read the end of Harry Potter without feeling a little sad.
I always know Vanilla Ice stole that riff from Under Pressure and Major Tom is part of the reason I don't want to be an astronaut.
The list could go on. Even with some deaths almost expected- Gene Wilder was in his 80's- it's still a little hard in a way. Yes, deaths of friends and family and other people are harder to take, it comes back to part of our childhood that's gone. When you're going through tough times you can, as Meatloaf said, put on the phones and let the drummer tell your heart what to do. You put on a song and dance. You enter a world of pure imagination.
In the end, we are all nothing more than stories. Let 2016 end and 2017 begin. And let's make the next set of stories good. Share the movies and music with friends and family and children, because oh were there so many children born this year. Let your childhood be part of theirs. Let the stories and good times go on.
The day they tore down the palais
I cried and I cried
The day they tore down the palais
Part of my childhood died.
That's when it hit me: with the celebrity deaths of this year, part of my childhood died. It could probably be said for many of us too. I grew up never knowing a world without Star Wars- the first of which was released three years before I was born. I can't even see a Star Wars movie these days without Reese's pieces because of childhood memories.
I was 11 when Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves came out and I've been watching Alan Rickman ever since. I can't even watch or read the end of Harry Potter without feeling a little sad.
I always know Vanilla Ice stole that riff from Under Pressure and Major Tom is part of the reason I don't want to be an astronaut.
The list could go on. Even with some deaths almost expected- Gene Wilder was in his 80's- it's still a little hard in a way. Yes, deaths of friends and family and other people are harder to take, it comes back to part of our childhood that's gone. When you're going through tough times you can, as Meatloaf said, put on the phones and let the drummer tell your heart what to do. You put on a song and dance. You enter a world of pure imagination.
In the end, we are all nothing more than stories. Let 2016 end and 2017 begin. And let's make the next set of stories good. Share the movies and music with friends and family and children, because oh were there so many children born this year. Let your childhood be part of theirs. Let the stories and good times go on.
Monday, January 4, 2016
New Year, New Post
2015 was an alright year for me.
2016 has thus far been interesting.
I went to visit family over New Year's and came back Sunday. Just as I was trying to leave, I couldn't start my car due to a dead battery. It got replaced and I left later than intended which led to getting home and to bed way later than needed, which is hard due to highly early mornings.
Got to work this morning and all of the temps- there's six- got called into a meeting with our supervisor. Turns out, January is a slow month. But, instead of having to let people go, he worked with his supervisors to let us stay on a reduced schedule. He divided us into two groups of three each and each group works a 20 hour week. I get the Monday-Wednesday group which I like.
There is good and bad to this of course. I don't get as many hours, so my paycheck is low. However, I still have a job and in February we're supposed to go back to 40 hour weeks. This also gives me extra time to work on my internship. I've been wanting to get ahead and get as close to 90-100 hours before faire workshops start and that's over 40 hours to go. So, I'll be putting in a few more hours for the time being on certain days. And I'll still have some days of downtime to get other things done and Netflix it up. I'm trying to get through a few shows.
I know money will be tight for a bit. But, I'm still getting a paycheck and that's pretty nifty. And I'll be getting a little bit closer to finishing my internship. It will still be awhile before taking my tests- it's $200 for just the licensing one- but that's okay too.
I'm just happy things are trucking on along. I might stress out. But, I'm now where I can sleep some, get other things done, and have some down time. It's all good.
2016 has thus far been interesting.
I went to visit family over New Year's and came back Sunday. Just as I was trying to leave, I couldn't start my car due to a dead battery. It got replaced and I left later than intended which led to getting home and to bed way later than needed, which is hard due to highly early mornings.
Got to work this morning and all of the temps- there's six- got called into a meeting with our supervisor. Turns out, January is a slow month. But, instead of having to let people go, he worked with his supervisors to let us stay on a reduced schedule. He divided us into two groups of three each and each group works a 20 hour week. I get the Monday-Wednesday group which I like.
There is good and bad to this of course. I don't get as many hours, so my paycheck is low. However, I still have a job and in February we're supposed to go back to 40 hour weeks. This also gives me extra time to work on my internship. I've been wanting to get ahead and get as close to 90-100 hours before faire workshops start and that's over 40 hours to go. So, I'll be putting in a few more hours for the time being on certain days. And I'll still have some days of downtime to get other things done and Netflix it up. I'm trying to get through a few shows.
I know money will be tight for a bit. But, I'm still getting a paycheck and that's pretty nifty. And I'll be getting a little bit closer to finishing my internship. It will still be awhile before taking my tests- it's $200 for just the licensing one- but that's okay too.
I'm just happy things are trucking on along. I might stress out. But, I'm now where I can sleep some, get other things done, and have some down time. It's all good.
Sunday, November 15, 2015
Life, Death, Tragedy, Remembering, and Moving On
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about this, saying what you really want to say to people. I lost a classmate of mine recently, one who I started massage school with, and we had her memorial at school Friday night. I came home after 10 to find out about Paris and have since learned of other tragedies.
Even before this weekend, I've been thinking about telling people things. A couple of friends of mine have recently started a social experiment to send packages to each other. Me? Packages are great; but I want to do letters. Part of me has this great idea to give some of them out at faire but then part of me doesn't want to wait that long though I have the perfect scenario and themes for days as I hand them out.
I remember this song from many years ago that has a line that's always stuck with me: if there's someone that should know, then just let your feelings show. Ironically it was from a movie based a French novel.
I challenge you over the next few days, weeks, and months to go out and just talk with people truthfully and honestly. Tell them how you feel. Even if it's a letter, it's a start. I know this isn't always going to happen for various reasons. I know that sometimes the other person needs to make better life choices and changes. And it's always hard to tell someone you have a crush on them and sometimes you can't for reasons of a significant other and they aren't polyamorous. But whatever. Just go and talk. Even just tell people you like/love/whatever them in a friend/platonic/whatever way. Enjoy each other's company. Live. Laugh. Hug.
Sometimes, as I think of the letters I plan on writing, I also think of the gossip that will inevitably happen. Because gossip happens. But, you know what, who cares? I'll do it anyway because I don't want to have that moment of not going out and having that possibility of something good happening. Even if it doesn't turn out how you want, at least you tried right?
Be a positive change in the world. Let your feelings show. Love in your fashion.
Even before this weekend, I've been thinking about telling people things. A couple of friends of mine have recently started a social experiment to send packages to each other. Me? Packages are great; but I want to do letters. Part of me has this great idea to give some of them out at faire but then part of me doesn't want to wait that long though I have the perfect scenario and themes for days as I hand them out.
I remember this song from many years ago that has a line that's always stuck with me: if there's someone that should know, then just let your feelings show. Ironically it was from a movie based a French novel.
I challenge you over the next few days, weeks, and months to go out and just talk with people truthfully and honestly. Tell them how you feel. Even if it's a letter, it's a start. I know this isn't always going to happen for various reasons. I know that sometimes the other person needs to make better life choices and changes. And it's always hard to tell someone you have a crush on them and sometimes you can't for reasons of a significant other and they aren't polyamorous. But whatever. Just go and talk. Even just tell people you like/love/whatever them in a friend/platonic/whatever way. Enjoy each other's company. Live. Laugh. Hug.
Sometimes, as I think of the letters I plan on writing, I also think of the gossip that will inevitably happen. Because gossip happens. But, you know what, who cares? I'll do it anyway because I don't want to have that moment of not going out and having that possibility of something good happening. Even if it doesn't turn out how you want, at least you tried right?
Be a positive change in the world. Let your feelings show. Love in your fashion.
Friday, June 20, 2014
I'm an Eponine; Just Deal with It
The sign itself was seen in a graveyard in a movie, but it really is true most days.
"Denton: Home of Happiness" it read. Four little words that mean a lot to many of us here, in a town really called Denton.
These days, I feel more sad, lonely, and left out than anything. I can't really explain it- or any of my other feelings really- because like the Facebook meme says, I don't really know what's going on myself.
I just feel lost I think. I don't really know who to turn to. I mean, the people I would have haven't responded to Facebook messages. Yay for feeling ignored.
Tonight I went out to see some friends play music at a coffeehouse here in town. Denton has lots of places like that. I couldn't help but feel a part of my crazy, eccentric, little town. It really is a fun place to live and the only place that's felt like home to me for the better part of the last couple of decades (actually, just about 20 years ago was when I first visited UNT and knew this is where I belonged; 1995 I think it was).
That feeling let me know there was life beyond my crappy job. It would be alright if it wasn't for that person. We've all had people like her. She's nice to just your face. She's always late. I actually know she makes fun of me behind my back and doesn't like me. I really just need to get away from the negativity.
Work also says they won't work with my school schedule; which is a lie. I only work part-time. So why can't they work around my school schedule? Apparently I needed to "ask for permission" to attend school. Really?! Why? I mean, they already say I have to do this just to get another job. Seriously. I have to ask for permission to get a second job. I'm an adult and they're treating me like a kid. They could totally work around my schedule, they just don't want to because I already ask for faire.
So yeah. I really need to leave.
Now stress is starting to get high. Not only do I have to look for money for school, but I need to find a new job. I want to do some sort of crowd funding type thing to help get me started so I have extra time to look for a loan. I'm just scared that no one will help. I mean, this week it's been nothing but avoided Facebook messages. I feel like no matter how hard I try or how big I yell, I'm not going to get noticed. I feel really out of place.
Like I said, I feel lost.
I need a miracle.
Time for Scooby-Doo. Time to cry since I realize it was stupid to think they'd come. Thanks for not responding. You're part of why I'm crying.
I tried. Really. I did. I sent messages and invites. But nobody answered. I mean, I know what you're thinking, things will change. I'm here to say they won't because they haven't; they never have. I just really feel like things won't change or get better. Because no matter how positive I try to be and know others have it worse or have worse things going on, my own issues don't get resolved.
I know you're thinking or saying too that maybe I need to change. If I really could or had, do you really think I'd be here writing this? I mean, seriously, I try. Sometimes I just need someone to let me cry and yell and vent. But I'm incapable of asking because I can't find the right words at the right time for the right people without feeling like I'm coming off weird Or they don't answer their Facebook messages. Or I don't have their phone numbers. And I have to pay for every test that comes in AND goes out.
I'm an Eponine. Things don't go good. They just go sour.
I'm seriously at that point where I really believe that if I ran away, no would care much less notice.
None of this is written to get attention. This is written because this is how I feel. I don't feel like I can really say stuff to people with out them taking it the wrong way.
"Denton: Home of Happiness" it read. Four little words that mean a lot to many of us here, in a town really called Denton.
These days, I feel more sad, lonely, and left out than anything. I can't really explain it- or any of my other feelings really- because like the Facebook meme says, I don't really know what's going on myself.
I just feel lost I think. I don't really know who to turn to. I mean, the people I would have haven't responded to Facebook messages. Yay for feeling ignored.
Tonight I went out to see some friends play music at a coffeehouse here in town. Denton has lots of places like that. I couldn't help but feel a part of my crazy, eccentric, little town. It really is a fun place to live and the only place that's felt like home to me for the better part of the last couple of decades (actually, just about 20 years ago was when I first visited UNT and knew this is where I belonged; 1995 I think it was).
That feeling let me know there was life beyond my crappy job. It would be alright if it wasn't for that person. We've all had people like her. She's nice to just your face. She's always late. I actually know she makes fun of me behind my back and doesn't like me. I really just need to get away from the negativity.
Work also says they won't work with my school schedule; which is a lie. I only work part-time. So why can't they work around my school schedule? Apparently I needed to "ask for permission" to attend school. Really?! Why? I mean, they already say I have to do this just to get another job. Seriously. I have to ask for permission to get a second job. I'm an adult and they're treating me like a kid. They could totally work around my schedule, they just don't want to because I already ask for faire.
So yeah. I really need to leave.
Now stress is starting to get high. Not only do I have to look for money for school, but I need to find a new job. I want to do some sort of crowd funding type thing to help get me started so I have extra time to look for a loan. I'm just scared that no one will help. I mean, this week it's been nothing but avoided Facebook messages. I feel like no matter how hard I try or how big I yell, I'm not going to get noticed. I feel really out of place.
Like I said, I feel lost.
I need a miracle.
Time for Scooby-Doo. Time to cry since I realize it was stupid to think they'd come. Thanks for not responding. You're part of why I'm crying.
I tried. Really. I did. I sent messages and invites. But nobody answered. I mean, I know what you're thinking, things will change. I'm here to say they won't because they haven't; they never have. I just really feel like things won't change or get better. Because no matter how positive I try to be and know others have it worse or have worse things going on, my own issues don't get resolved.
I know you're thinking or saying too that maybe I need to change. If I really could or had, do you really think I'd be here writing this? I mean, seriously, I try. Sometimes I just need someone to let me cry and yell and vent. But I'm incapable of asking because I can't find the right words at the right time for the right people without feeling like I'm coming off weird Or they don't answer their Facebook messages. Or I don't have their phone numbers. And I have to pay for every test that comes in AND goes out.
I'm an Eponine. Things don't go good. They just go sour.
I'm seriously at that point where I really believe that if I ran away, no would care much less notice.
None of this is written to get attention. This is written because this is how I feel. I don't feel like I can really say stuff to people with out them taking it the wrong way.
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
Age, Fear, and Other Things
I'm a musical creature. Like a recent Facebook meme says, "if you can't deal with me busting out into song about what we're talking about, you can't be my friend." Or at least something like that. And you can still be my friend. Even if you don't get the song references.
Anywho. For years, different ages have had songs. I know there are those "mythical" ages where big things happen. But, to some extent, people have their own, individual "mythical" ages. Some examples of my age songs are:
"Drinking in L.A." by Bran Van 3000,
What the hell am I doing drinking in L.A. at 26
"Middle Ground" by Mary Chapin Carpenter for my current age,
She's 33 this time around
And the song that's the cause for my big birthday, "Club Cherry Bomb" by John Mellencamp
Seventeen has turned thirty-five
What I mean by "mythical" age is that age that just seems like you're going to have everything figured out. Or maybe it's just some number that you think will be amazing. You may not have things figured out by that age. It could be the suckiest year ever. But maybe things will work out. You never know. For a friend, it was 27. For me, like I said, it's 35. It just always sounded like a lovely age I suppose. I know age really isn't anything but a number that signifies how long you've been lucky enough to be alive.
I turn 35 in just under a year and half. I'm not scared of this age I've looked forward to for years. I'm thinking I should start setting goals for this age. I've already, in a sense, starting heading towards a better life by then.
Fear is something we all deal with. Especially when making a big change or doing something we really want to do. It's always a giant leap and personally, I hate heights. I don't like flying because I'm so far from the ground. To this day, I will never fly on a plane with the numbers 815 or 316 because of Lost.
But today, I did jump off the proverbial cliff and applied to- and was accepted- to massage school.
I'm scared half to death. I'm scared of never finding the bottom. I'm scared of not being able to accomplish the goal at hand. But I suppose that's what jumping is all about; taking that chance just to see where you'll land. As my roommate says about my Faith poppet, "sometimes you just need a little Faith."
And so with faith I go. Because that's about all I've got right now. But faith, like hope, is a good thing.
Anywho. For years, different ages have had songs. I know there are those "mythical" ages where big things happen. But, to some extent, people have their own, individual "mythical" ages. Some examples of my age songs are:
"Drinking in L.A." by Bran Van 3000,
What the hell am I doing drinking in L.A. at 26
"Middle Ground" by Mary Chapin Carpenter for my current age,
She's 33 this time around
And the song that's the cause for my big birthday, "Club Cherry Bomb" by John Mellencamp
Seventeen has turned thirty-five
What I mean by "mythical" age is that age that just seems like you're going to have everything figured out. Or maybe it's just some number that you think will be amazing. You may not have things figured out by that age. It could be the suckiest year ever. But maybe things will work out. You never know. For a friend, it was 27. For me, like I said, it's 35. It just always sounded like a lovely age I suppose. I know age really isn't anything but a number that signifies how long you've been lucky enough to be alive.
I turn 35 in just under a year and half. I'm not scared of this age I've looked forward to for years. I'm thinking I should start setting goals for this age. I've already, in a sense, starting heading towards a better life by then.
Fear is something we all deal with. Especially when making a big change or doing something we really want to do. It's always a giant leap and personally, I hate heights. I don't like flying because I'm so far from the ground. To this day, I will never fly on a plane with the numbers 815 or 316 because of Lost.
But today, I did jump off the proverbial cliff and applied to- and was accepted- to massage school.
I'm scared half to death. I'm scared of never finding the bottom. I'm scared of not being able to accomplish the goal at hand. But I suppose that's what jumping is all about; taking that chance just to see where you'll land. As my roommate says about my Faith poppet, "sometimes you just need a little Faith."
And so with faith I go. Because that's about all I've got right now. But faith, like hope, is a good thing.
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