I had the great pleasure this week of going to see one of my favorite musicians, Jenny Lewis, live at a small theater in Orlando. I had been lucky enough to see Jenny Lewis 12 years ago when she was in the amazing band, Rilo Kiley. Since then, I have not had the real chance to see her live again. There were always obstacles and financial reasons as to not make the show. Nothing stopped us this time.
Because of my excitement I asked my husband to find my old Rilo Kiley shirt. If you didn't know 19 year old Alison very well, you may be surprised at the fact that I have always been a concert-goer, and back in the day was nothing short of an avid concert-goer. I am obsessed with certain avenues of live music.
My first concert when I was 11 or 12 was Billy Joel at some concert hall at a local university. I knew very well plenty about Billy Joel to know that I was damn lucky to see him live in a small space. Sitting in a cold concert hall to watch seemed a little stuffy but regardless, I was happy to have the experience. My second concert was when I was 13, Hanson, at HersheyPark Arena I believe. I didn't like how huge it was, there was no room to move and the speakers drowned out everything with just noise and over-blown effects rather than the music.
When I was 17 or 18 a friend's mom took us to see NSYNC in their prime. We had nosebleed arena seats for an arena in Ft. Lauderdale I think. I knew I was so lucky to go but I remember when it was encore time my friend's mom was like "You have to clap to make them come back out!: My friend said, "Mom the encore is part of the show, whether they like it or not, clapping won't change that." Her mom did the classic "back in my day the encore meant something," story and it made me laugh but I've taken smaller show encores seriously since.
When I was 18 and living in the Pacific Northwest we were in indie-concert heaven. So many bands passed through the university towns of every genre and so many played the small clubs. I was completely obsessed with all things music. The closest to a "spiritual" experience I've ever had, has been in a live music venue. Music has been there for me on my darkest days, same as when I'm in a great mood. Music is my life.
I say that not in the sense that I'm any kind of musician. I just say that I couldn't live without it. When I was able to see Jenny Lewis live, close up and dance and sing and fall deeper in love with everything about her, it made me think of how many concerts I've been to. I've lost count.
The concert t-shirt situation will be a blog on it's own. I plan to count and record the findings this weekend. My husband was giving me a hard time about all the shirts and I said, "That was my thing; you could lose a ticket stub but a shirt I could and would wear forever, although some are inappropriate now."
I started going through them and remembered where I got them from, what show, when and how. It was better than a photo album. Some of my strongest, and best memories are around concerts. Some of my now favorite songs, or revisited songs I'd forgotten, I was lucky enough to see live, forever changing me. I've seen songs performed live that I disliked on an album. I've seen songs live that I didn't understand until the artist gave commentary on it. I've disliked some songs live that are my favorite on an album. Each concert was a journey, an adventure and a conscious experience.
It may be safe to say you can't actually know me on a deep level until you've seen me around live music of my own favorite musicians. My best friend and I are deeply rooted around the music of Hanson. I've made unlikely friends in the presence of Death Cab for Cutie, Rilo Kiley and Cake. Seeing performances live is where all my money went, pre-motherhood. Now I'm much more selective.
This past show was something of a new kind of concert adventure. In my twenties you would drive 2 hours to a venue, get tipsy up until you could sneak into the opener, then continue to drink to party through the show, then switch to water halfway through the headlining show, drive home, sleep until the last minute you could and rally back into whatever you had going the next day. For this part of my 30's, we caffeinated on the way, had a small dinner, small water, were fighting the sleepies before the show started, and then got a cookie and sugar rush for the drive home, completely sober and awake, crashing out at 1AM and up by 6:30AM for work and school and life. My mom watched my daughter and said, "How can you go to work after that?" I said, "It's not like I'm drinking. I may be sleepy but there won't be a hangover like 10 years ago!"
Yesterday, after just reliving what an epic set list from Wednesday night and thinking about all the concert shirts in the garage I just realized what kind of consciousness I have in the presence of live music. I have a rule that you have to listen to the band you're about to see the entire drive to the venue and possibly on the return trip as well. Some people think this is excessive. I disagree.
In this day and age you feel like you have to record and Instagram everything but I remind myself to put the phone down and live in the moment. You are never going to have that exact moment or experience again so drink it in.
My consciousness at a concert is like nothing else. I just wanna live there in that place as long as I can. I'm not worried about paying bills, waking up on time, laundry and dishes. I'm in that song, I'm in that moment just watching the music unfold before me.
I often joke that I was born in the wrong era. I believe I may be an old soul that previously was alive and attended Woodstock and Led Zeppelin shows, overdosing by 18 and then reincarnating to come back in the 80's to be this Alison. I love music the most!
Concerts are something I love to share with people too and I don't take it lightly. You have to be able to go, stand, dance and enjoy without messing it up for me or no thank you. My goal is to enjoy every song, whether I know it by heart or not and enjoy the company of whomever goes with me. So, if I've never asked you to go with me, that tells you everything...in a way LOL.
In my early twenties it was my mission for my dad and I to attend as many concerts as possible of the musicians he raised me on and then drag him to a few shows of "my bands," he could tolerate. I took him to see Lyle Lovett, Mary Chapin Carpenter, Neil Diamond, Jethro Tull, and most notably, Mark Knopfler, among others for us to truly enjoy together. These are my collections and memories and I will keep them, and possibly my t-shirts forever.
Concerts are my favorite way to spend my time. I love going to events instead of buying stuff. If it came down to "new bedspread" or "Tickets to see Cake," Cake will win every time. Concerts are my thing and I hope to keep that going to inevitably force my daughter to love them as well. Now back to updating my Spotify list!
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Friday, September 13, 2019
Tuesday, September 3, 2019
An Update On Posting
Hey Readers! I really appreciate you guys. I've had a pretty rough few days mentally and today in Florida is a hurricane day, so my daughter will be coming to work with me. I plan on getting back to normal things tomorrow and appreciate you sticking with me! Happy September!
Saturday, May 25, 2019
The 9PM Too Tired To Post Post
You thought I forgot? I've been out all day and immediately came home to mom chores. Weekends are rough. I'm too tired to be all artistic and poetic. But I will have a real post after I scour my house tomorrow.
Tuesday, April 30, 2019
The Vomit Draft
I'm sitting here listening to Dax Shepard interview Mike Schur on my ArmChair Expert podcast, and for those of you who don't pay attention to sitcom writers, Mike Schur did a lot of work on the American adaptation of The Office, he did Parks and Recreation and now has brought us my new obsession, The Good Place. They are talking about all kinds of things but I was very attentive as they started to talk about writing.
As a serious fan of these shows, meaning, I can quote the Office like Friends, Parks and Rec is just becoming more and more my default binge-watch, and The Good Place is just so frigging awesome, it's pretty interesting to hear Mike Schur talk about the writing process and how he operates. Dax Shepard brought up something that totally just blew me away, saying that he allows himself to just write terribly from time to time, and to just know that sometimes things will come out horrible and be utter garbage. He accepts this and allows it.
Mike Schur called this "The Vomit Draft." It is named so as something that is just proverbially "puked out," with yuck results but is stuff that you need to get out of you to be able to better write the next draft and the next draft. It seriously got the wheels turning in Anxious Alison's mind.
Dax Shepard also mentioned that if you sit down and think you're going to just write Shakespearean on the first try, you'll probably fail miserably because that's not a realistic expectation or even fair goal. But to allow yourself to have some crap amidst the good is much better.
I'm not sure if I proclaim myself as a "writer" really, as more of a ridiculous blogging enthusiast with some followers. I'd love to be paid to be a writer. Especially if I can write cutting edge things about why the Office is awesome and Parks and Rec is epic as well. I'm not sure I can hob nob with the "writing" elite just yes.
I'd love to have the time and creative space to write a book but, I'm not so sure that's realistic, let alone to be anything like Shakespeare goals. I think that blogging daily is the closest I've gotten in years to getting my writing done in a productive way and I'm pretty sure that Haiku, which was barely a Haiku was a "vomit draft."
The whole thing was fascinating to me. We put these ideals on people and imagine that writing just pours out into liquid gold. We assume that all of the writers of the shows we love have it all figured out and everything is a perfect puzzle. We forget that, they too, have to wade through the crap, er uh, vomit if you will.
Some days I can write these raw, fun, amazing pieces of myself and people read and say "Yay!" Other days I struggle to find something that's not vomit. It's kind of comforting to know that the writers that I admire have the same kind of days.
and he just immediately heaves and needs to get himself away. For me, I'll be covered in puke and still comforting the kid. Moms, and I guess writers can handle the vomit. My husband is very much akin to Alec Baldwin in 30 Rock:
As a serious fan of these shows, meaning, I can quote the Office like Friends, Parks and Rec is just becoming more and more my default binge-watch, and The Good Place is just so frigging awesome, it's pretty interesting to hear Mike Schur talk about the writing process and how he operates. Dax Shepard brought up something that totally just blew me away, saying that he allows himself to just write terribly from time to time, and to just know that sometimes things will come out horrible and be utter garbage. He accepts this and allows it.
Mike Schur called this "The Vomit Draft." It is named so as something that is just proverbially "puked out," with yuck results but is stuff that you need to get out of you to be able to better write the next draft and the next draft. It seriously got the wheels turning in Anxious Alison's mind.
Dax Shepard also mentioned that if you sit down and think you're going to just write Shakespearean on the first try, you'll probably fail miserably because that's not a realistic expectation or even fair goal. But to allow yourself to have some crap amidst the good is much better.
I'm not sure if I proclaim myself as a "writer" really, as more of a ridiculous blogging enthusiast with some followers. I'd love to be paid to be a writer. Especially if I can write cutting edge things about why the Office is awesome and Parks and Rec is epic as well. I'm not sure I can hob nob with the "writing" elite just yes.
I'd love to have the time and creative space to write a book but, I'm not so sure that's realistic, let alone to be anything like Shakespeare goals. I think that blogging daily is the closest I've gotten in years to getting my writing done in a productive way and I'm pretty sure that Haiku, which was barely a Haiku was a "vomit draft."
The whole thing was fascinating to me. We put these ideals on people and imagine that writing just pours out into liquid gold. We assume that all of the writers of the shows we love have it all figured out and everything is a perfect puzzle. We forget that, they too, have to wade through the crap, er uh, vomit if you will.
Some days I can write these raw, fun, amazing pieces of myself and people read and say "Yay!" Other days I struggle to find something that's not vomit. It's kind of comforting to know that the writers that I admire have the same kind of days.
I also kind of love that it is well known as "The Vomit Draft," apparently. To me this is hilarious. As a mom, you get used to gross things fast, like poop, pee and puke. Ironically my husband has a Vince Vaughn in Four Christmases-like approach,
and he just immediately heaves and needs to get himself away. For me, I'll be covered in puke and still comforting the kid. Moms, and I guess writers can handle the vomit. My husband is very much akin to Alec Baldwin in 30 Rock:
I think creativity is rough, regardless, and there will always be someone who can do it better. I once tried to make a wreath at a Halloween thing my crafty mom friend threw, it was better as a centerpiece and could easily be posted as a Pinterest fail. I got to play with a hot glue gun though, so that was fun, but my friend made the wreath perfectly, and 3 other wreaths perfectly so, yeah, she has that part down. There will always be someone who does it differently, and with better results.
I can probably write more easily than others, though, and definitely better than a few. Essays, reviews, summaries and such come so naturally to me. So, everyone has their thing and for me, it's much more writing than anything else, even amidst the "vomit drafts."
Mostly the writing discussion on the podcast made me feel even more affirmation in my Podcasting choices and obsession, but also in my writing. In recent discoveries and acknowledgement of my growth, it seems as though some of these routines have been super fruitful and helpful in different areas of life and I'm embracing that success. Win!
On this particular Tuesday, where I am tired and emotionally a little done, I feel triumphant in knowing I'm doing okay even when I "vomit draft" a haiku or weekend post that is lackluster. For those of you faithful readers that endure it, just know it is part of everyone's writing process; I'm letting you in on my musings, good and bad!
Friday, April 5, 2019
I'd Rather Not Be The Bad Day Blogger
The other day my best friend across an ocean messaged me. He messaged me this long message about his truly horrible day filled with work and boss dispute, a small injury and a broken water heater meaning, cold showers until it could be fixed. Although I very much love Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad day, all I could think was, he "Roseanna-Danna'd" me.
Not to date myself here, but I was raised with amazing comedic appreciation including that of early and original SNL. Gilda Radner was a comedic genius in comedy and I loved her character on Weekend Update "Roseanne, Rosanna Danna." She had one person complaining in a letter which I then found in a Hallmark card years later for a favorite Aunt, and when I heard my friend's annoyed plea all I could hear and picture was her:
Not to date myself here, but I was raised with amazing comedic appreciation including that of early and original SNL. Gilda Radner was a comedic genius in comedy and I loved her character on Weekend Update "Roseanne, Rosanna Danna." She had one person complaining in a letter which I then found in a Hallmark card years later for a favorite Aunt, and when I heard my friend's annoyed plea all I could hear and picture was her:
Honestly when he messaged me, I smiled. Not because he had a bad day, but because I loved that he wasn't complaining at me, but rather that after all of that, he wanted to come share the day with me as if thinking, "Ali will make me feel better." I offered all the good vibes and apologies for a yuck day promising a better tomorrow.
This morning was my turn for the bad day. If I'm being honest it's been a rough run all around. It's been quite a roller coaster and many tests of my anxiety, depressive whims and my ability to push through and adult. I'm anything but easy going and these past few weeks have been quite a trial for me.
Today was the breaking point and I really wanted to write it up as an "F this Friday." But I took a lot of deep breaths and pushed through. It was one of those crappy financial situations which wasn't the end of the world but really sucked. One of those things that wasn't your fault really, but wasn't arguable. It was a waste of money and resources, not to mention time, all of which I detest! It was not a great start to my day.
I figured I had a few choices: I could reach out to my co-complainers, aka my friends that always support my annoyances with the fact that they, too, would be annoyed by said situation. I could cry in my car, always good for a day to be not okay. OR, I could therapize through it, meaning using the tools from therapy to get me to not hit melt down mode.
I posted some Pinterest motivational pictures in a collage, and boy I LOVE a good collage, on Instagram and had some of my favorite people reach out to me and remind me I'm loved through the muck, especially when I'm hating myself, and that it's just a bad day. And then I sorted it all out. I felt better.
It was after a major talk session and some light complaining that I realized, not only am I not alone in this kind of thing, meaning it happens to the best of us, but just two days before I had a message from a bestie that exhibited the same kind of day. And then I was reminded of the always amazing skit of "Roseanne Rosanna Danna." I've left it below for your entertainment, but to sum up, rather than be the Bad Day Blogger, I'm with "Roseanne Rosanna Danna," "It's always something," and if it's not one list, it's another but the best thing we can do with it all, is at least have a laugh.
Happy Friday!
Monday, April 1, 2019
The Florida Move - Who, What, When, Where...Maybe Even Why?
We're inching closer to a full decade as Floridians and my husband also has reminded me, I've officially lived in Florida longer than I did in Oregon and I'm 3 years shy of beating out my 13 years in Pennsylvania. The Florida move was a big one for my husband but less so for me, and 10 years later I figure I can better explain the move now, as opposed to before.
When I was all of 7 years old and obsessed with Father of The Bride with Steve Martin, I decided I was going to get married in my dad's church, have the reception at our house, that I loved so much, of course stay close by to family and raise my kids right there, right? Why would you ever leave "home?" That's how it worked right?
By 13 my mom was consistently out of the picture and my dad, having moved to Pennsylvania for my mom and her family more than anything else, was growing tired of being where he no longer seemingly had a reason to solidify his roots. My dad attempted to find us a secondary space in North Carolina, our version of a summer home he bought for him and my mom. When the shit hit the fan, he lost the house, and all his future plans, so he started devise a decision on what he wanted in terms of a new life alone.
He decided on Oregon. My mom ended up in Delray Beach, Florida for her first solid year of stability. I came down for summer camp and visits and much like the opposite of Frozen's Elsa, "The heat never bothered me anyway." I fell in love easily with Florida. My grandparents were just an hour north of her in Port St. Lucie too and I was just in awe of all things Florida.
I loved the palm trees, the big changing signs along I-95, the malls, and it was bright and sunny so that you could go to the beach or the pool year round. I loved the big houses almost as I loved the little key west style one-floor ranchers and loved that it was WARM!
When I was vying for having a mother figure back and my dad was itching for distance, he said he was going to go back to Oregon when I was 16 and I had zero interest in following. I wanted to live with my mom in Delray. So, I finished my sophomore year of high school living with my Aunt in Pennsylvania and then was shipped to Delray Beach.
I landed in Ft. Lauderdale, and did my junior year in Delray Beach and literally lasted a year to the day, before my dad packed up all my stuff and dragged me across the country with him to Oregon to finish high school and then go to college. My mom and I were not fit to share a roof. Unfortunately this still stands and has been recently proven.
After moving to two high schools in 2 years, moving didn't bother me. I could be a nomad, whatever. In fact for the next 7 years, I moved once a year. My dad rented a place on Hilyard in South Eugene for High School. After that we moved to West Eugene to an apartment for my first year at community College. Then I was on 11th with my first roommate, then I lived by myself on High Street, then to Bailey Hill in a little townhouse with a roommate, moved in the same complex but a one bedroom with my then boyfriend, now husband, and then with my Aunt back in South Eugene, whilst I planned my graduation and Oregon escape.
My sights were originally set on San Francisco, or New York. I always dreamed that being poor in a big city was more romantic than being rich in the suburbs. But, after another bad situation with my mom derailed me, and I had a year of pretty intense depression and anxiety, I gave into the idea that maybe I was the type that could settle down and have a family, and my adolescent Carrie Bradshaw dreams were just the stuff of immaturity.
My husband had never really lived anywhere. Just Oregon; Medford and then Eugene. When he met me, we visited Pennsylvania often, he saw the Jersey Shore and even Delray Beach, Florida. When I mentioned possibly leaving for a new place, he was all in. But then I was like, well if we're moving 3,000 miles together, if we were to get married we'd do that before we left right? Because I'd never be that person to get married on a beach.
So, in the midst of planning a cross country trek and new life, we snuck in a wedding that turned into an epic send off and I was ready. I had studied for about 4 months in Europe in 2007 and it was just the best time ever. I LOVED to travel. It didn't matter if it involved road trips or flying anywhere new, I was in. My husband was just kind of starting to embrace new horizons. Moreover for me, I wanted a place that was just ours.
My mom almost successfully ruined our relocation, but I refused to let her take away one more thing from my life. Originally I wanted to go back to Delray, but my husband had an Aunt in Tampa and I had had cousins move from Pennsylvania to St. Petersburg, Florida about 2 or so years prior. We visited once and very much liked it so we just changed the location a bit.
I was so ready for a clean slate, a warm new place that didn't even know anything about us. In Oregon, everyone knew my husband and I as this entity of "us," which was great and fine, but I just wanted our own real place. I also didn't want to get stuck doing everything that everyone around us in Oregon was doing, but rather to find my own way.
Finding my footing was tough at first, but after about 2 job changes I found a place to thrive. After I left Pennsylvania "home" became a fluid concept anyway. It wasn't a place but more, a feeling of comfort in who I was with. My husband was home. The apartment didn't matter, only that we were in it together.
For career reasons, I knew that Oregon couldn't support what I wanted to do for writing. I was in for a rude awakening that nowhere really could, especially in my married life, and also that our lives couldn't support endless internships or relocation for such things. Therefore, I just found my way with jobs to pay the bills.
In truth, with a broken heart from family life, and a guy next to me saying he wanted to go with and love me, why stay put? I wasn't immediately ready to settle down and have a family, but I liked knowing I didn't have to be alone. I wanted to just live a bit.
Maybe my husband's reasons are completely different and I won't speculate but for me, the "who" was my husband and I, the "what" was, "moved to Florida," or as my sister said, "You can't move any further away." The "when" ended up being June-July of 2009 because we took our time getting down here. The "where" changed from Delray to Tampa Bay and the never ending "Why," would be best answered as, because we deserved a chance to have something that was our own.
Of course a decade later with a dog and a child, and even a house purchase in, boy did nothing go as I'd imagined. Expectations have been shattered and things have been harder than I could have ever thought, but I don't regret leaving. I asked my husband the same thing last year and he agreed.
Don't get me wrong, I love Oregon. I miss it. But I cannot handle the cold. The cold makes me so very physically uncomfortable and depressive. I'm much better here in the Sunshine State.
The why is complicated, I'll admit. I also think as I get older and one can only hope, wiser, it may become more succinct but I just wanted something that was completely and utterly ours. In Oregon I would have had babies immediately with everyone else, got a job I hated for no pay and struggled through the seasons to find what I was even looking for, and I didn't feel like that was where I should be. Luckily, I had a co-pilot who wanted to come with.
Ironically now I have zero desire to leave Safety Harbor. My daughter jokes about having a different house and I'm like, "Uh, no, this is the forever house." I've had what I've built threatened to disintegrate often, and this is the first time I'm not like, "Sure we'll just move along elsewhere," but rather I'm like, "I refuse to give up what I've worked hard for."
It took me 8 years to land a job that even kind of used my degree, not to mention a job that actually was friendly to my anxiety and personal struggles. It took me 8 years to find a place I would want to stay and right now I'm having to rebuild some massive personal destruction and I won't let anyone tell me I shouldn't be spending my time to be a better mom and human. When I had my daughter there were a few times when I wished family was closer, but even when we go visit, I'm constantly reminded at how hard it is there for us, or at least for me.
Florida may not be forever but at least I can see the first hints of calm. I love this "colorful, lawless swamp" that I call home and why even? Because it is my home. And home is where the heart is right? I think we can end on that cliche for a Monday!
When I was all of 7 years old and obsessed with Father of The Bride with Steve Martin, I decided I was going to get married in my dad's church, have the reception at our house, that I loved so much, of course stay close by to family and raise my kids right there, right? Why would you ever leave "home?" That's how it worked right?
By 13 my mom was consistently out of the picture and my dad, having moved to Pennsylvania for my mom and her family more than anything else, was growing tired of being where he no longer seemingly had a reason to solidify his roots. My dad attempted to find us a secondary space in North Carolina, our version of a summer home he bought for him and my mom. When the shit hit the fan, he lost the house, and all his future plans, so he started devise a decision on what he wanted in terms of a new life alone.
He decided on Oregon. My mom ended up in Delray Beach, Florida for her first solid year of stability. I came down for summer camp and visits and much like the opposite of Frozen's Elsa, "The heat never bothered me anyway." I fell in love easily with Florida. My grandparents were just an hour north of her in Port St. Lucie too and I was just in awe of all things Florida.
I loved the palm trees, the big changing signs along I-95, the malls, and it was bright and sunny so that you could go to the beach or the pool year round. I loved the big houses almost as I loved the little key west style one-floor ranchers and loved that it was WARM!
When I was vying for having a mother figure back and my dad was itching for distance, he said he was going to go back to Oregon when I was 16 and I had zero interest in following. I wanted to live with my mom in Delray. So, I finished my sophomore year of high school living with my Aunt in Pennsylvania and then was shipped to Delray Beach.
I landed in Ft. Lauderdale, and did my junior year in Delray Beach and literally lasted a year to the day, before my dad packed up all my stuff and dragged me across the country with him to Oregon to finish high school and then go to college. My mom and I were not fit to share a roof. Unfortunately this still stands and has been recently proven.
After moving to two high schools in 2 years, moving didn't bother me. I could be a nomad, whatever. In fact for the next 7 years, I moved once a year. My dad rented a place on Hilyard in South Eugene for High School. After that we moved to West Eugene to an apartment for my first year at community College. Then I was on 11th with my first roommate, then I lived by myself on High Street, then to Bailey Hill in a little townhouse with a roommate, moved in the same complex but a one bedroom with my then boyfriend, now husband, and then with my Aunt back in South Eugene, whilst I planned my graduation and Oregon escape.
My sights were originally set on San Francisco, or New York. I always dreamed that being poor in a big city was more romantic than being rich in the suburbs. But, after another bad situation with my mom derailed me, and I had a year of pretty intense depression and anxiety, I gave into the idea that maybe I was the type that could settle down and have a family, and my adolescent Carrie Bradshaw dreams were just the stuff of immaturity.
My husband had never really lived anywhere. Just Oregon; Medford and then Eugene. When he met me, we visited Pennsylvania often, he saw the Jersey Shore and even Delray Beach, Florida. When I mentioned possibly leaving for a new place, he was all in. But then I was like, well if we're moving 3,000 miles together, if we were to get married we'd do that before we left right? Because I'd never be that person to get married on a beach.
So, in the midst of planning a cross country trek and new life, we snuck in a wedding that turned into an epic send off and I was ready. I had studied for about 4 months in Europe in 2007 and it was just the best time ever. I LOVED to travel. It didn't matter if it involved road trips or flying anywhere new, I was in. My husband was just kind of starting to embrace new horizons. Moreover for me, I wanted a place that was just ours.
My mom almost successfully ruined our relocation, but I refused to let her take away one more thing from my life. Originally I wanted to go back to Delray, but my husband had an Aunt in Tampa and I had had cousins move from Pennsylvania to St. Petersburg, Florida about 2 or so years prior. We visited once and very much liked it so we just changed the location a bit.
I was so ready for a clean slate, a warm new place that didn't even know anything about us. In Oregon, everyone knew my husband and I as this entity of "us," which was great and fine, but I just wanted our own real place. I also didn't want to get stuck doing everything that everyone around us in Oregon was doing, but rather to find my own way.
Finding my footing was tough at first, but after about 2 job changes I found a place to thrive. After I left Pennsylvania "home" became a fluid concept anyway. It wasn't a place but more, a feeling of comfort in who I was with. My husband was home. The apartment didn't matter, only that we were in it together.
For career reasons, I knew that Oregon couldn't support what I wanted to do for writing. I was in for a rude awakening that nowhere really could, especially in my married life, and also that our lives couldn't support endless internships or relocation for such things. Therefore, I just found my way with jobs to pay the bills.
In truth, with a broken heart from family life, and a guy next to me saying he wanted to go with and love me, why stay put? I wasn't immediately ready to settle down and have a family, but I liked knowing I didn't have to be alone. I wanted to just live a bit.
Maybe my husband's reasons are completely different and I won't speculate but for me, the "who" was my husband and I, the "what" was, "moved to Florida," or as my sister said, "You can't move any further away." The "when" ended up being June-July of 2009 because we took our time getting down here. The "where" changed from Delray to Tampa Bay and the never ending "Why," would be best answered as, because we deserved a chance to have something that was our own.
Of course a decade later with a dog and a child, and even a house purchase in, boy did nothing go as I'd imagined. Expectations have been shattered and things have been harder than I could have ever thought, but I don't regret leaving. I asked my husband the same thing last year and he agreed.
Don't get me wrong, I love Oregon. I miss it. But I cannot handle the cold. The cold makes me so very physically uncomfortable and depressive. I'm much better here in the Sunshine State.
The why is complicated, I'll admit. I also think as I get older and one can only hope, wiser, it may become more succinct but I just wanted something that was completely and utterly ours. In Oregon I would have had babies immediately with everyone else, got a job I hated for no pay and struggled through the seasons to find what I was even looking for, and I didn't feel like that was where I should be. Luckily, I had a co-pilot who wanted to come with.
Ironically now I have zero desire to leave Safety Harbor. My daughter jokes about having a different house and I'm like, "Uh, no, this is the forever house." I've had what I've built threatened to disintegrate often, and this is the first time I'm not like, "Sure we'll just move along elsewhere," but rather I'm like, "I refuse to give up what I've worked hard for."
It took me 8 years to land a job that even kind of used my degree, not to mention a job that actually was friendly to my anxiety and personal struggles. It took me 8 years to find a place I would want to stay and right now I'm having to rebuild some massive personal destruction and I won't let anyone tell me I shouldn't be spending my time to be a better mom and human. When I had my daughter there were a few times when I wished family was closer, but even when we go visit, I'm constantly reminded at how hard it is there for us, or at least for me.
Florida may not be forever but at least I can see the first hints of calm. I love this "colorful, lawless swamp" that I call home and why even? Because it is my home. And home is where the heart is right? I think we can end on that cliche for a Monday!
Monday, March 25, 2019
Last Day Of 33, Whatcha Got For Me?
On the eve of my birthday, or as I have been referring to it this year as, "Just Tuesday the 26th," while of course saying goodbye to 33 and hello to 34, I'm almost forced into some reflection so just bear with me.
I remember last year going to an amazing concert with some of my favorite people around this time of year, running the St. Patty's 5K and I think there was ice cream cake. Not to mention, my mother's annual forced upon new fashion or a shopping trip with her. This year I am opting for as much calm and quiet as possible.
My daughter has promised me a "boutique" of flowers and as much as I didn't want to correct her, I did and told her she meant "bouquet," and I hope to snag some time to myself, a novel idea in motherhood.
I will say this, 33 has been a huge year for me personally in terms of growth and strength. Last year at this time I was still settling into things after surviving one of the worst Christmases of my lifetime. I was trying to scrape things together and stay positive, but I was feeling really hopeless and utterly alone.
This was before April, and in April my life was completely turned upside down in every way and I didn't handle it well. March, and especially my birthday, was the beginning of the chaos. At that time, I was still in a place of fight or flight and I was faced with having to support choices I didn't agree with, but sucking it up "for the greater good." It wasn't my best start to 2018.
This year has a much different vibe, more positive and affirming, and I'm proud of and happy with that. After a horrible April 2018, in May I took my life back. I really stood up for myself and my daughter and redefined our family norms. It was a bit rocky through September but we are still building, and growing. So this year, I'm just ready for 34.
Birthday wishes are great, but I no longer feel they are some kind of required barometer for a friendship or an attention level anymore. I feel grateful when someone remembers to text me, let alone remembers something as trivial as a birthday. I won't feel "forgotten" because people have lives and any relationship is complicated and scattered at times. Not getting a nod on a Facebook wall or a text the day of won't break my birthday or get anyone in trouble.
There aren't many years of my 34 on earth that I can recall the kind of strength and growth that I've manifested, especially over these last 6 months, so I want to celebrate that, more than anything else within the birthday. As an only child, my mom cannot help herself when it comes to making it a "thing," no matter how much I beg to just have some ice cream cake and call it a day. My husband gets annoyed I ruin my own requests by buying myself the stuff I need instead of waiting for him to do it for me.
I've decided that Jenny Lewis' new album "On The Line" was released as a birthday gift to me, as she is my spirit animal and one of my most favorite artists. She also starts her tour tomorrow, in Indiana unfortunately, but I can rock from here, regardless. I've been replaying her album as part of my reflective time because she usually writes and records all the feels I need, and somehow exactly when I need them. So, little things like this I consider part of the celebration.
For 34 I want continued growth, strength and bravery. I want to become less and less afraid to stand up for myself in every situation. Ironically this past weekend I had a recurring nightmare about still working in a place where I was made to feel intimidated, inferior and where my needs and requests were consistently ignored only to wake up disgustingly grateful that I'm no longer there. I'll take that as a good sign that I'm in a better place.
Also this weekend my family seemed to master "the chill," of which I am completely the worst. We did some household chores and some necessary upkeep, but we were lazy and watched too much TV, ate what we wanted, had a family sleepover, slept in and just bummed around. It's not something we indulge in often, even though it is necessary. On top of that, I had good conversations with favorite people about struggles and growth and about how we just need to face certain things head on anymore. We're too young to take it for granted and too old to mess around, and I think those two are interchangeable.
So 33, what else have you got for me? I'm ready for more with 34 and yes those all kinda rhyme in weird ways. Maybe the corny, dorky stuff comes with age too. Here's to growing up!
I remember last year going to an amazing concert with some of my favorite people around this time of year, running the St. Patty's 5K and I think there was ice cream cake. Not to mention, my mother's annual forced upon new fashion or a shopping trip with her. This year I am opting for as much calm and quiet as possible.
My daughter has promised me a "boutique" of flowers and as much as I didn't want to correct her, I did and told her she meant "bouquet," and I hope to snag some time to myself, a novel idea in motherhood.
I will say this, 33 has been a huge year for me personally in terms of growth and strength. Last year at this time I was still settling into things after surviving one of the worst Christmases of my lifetime. I was trying to scrape things together and stay positive, but I was feeling really hopeless and utterly alone.
This was before April, and in April my life was completely turned upside down in every way and I didn't handle it well. March, and especially my birthday, was the beginning of the chaos. At that time, I was still in a place of fight or flight and I was faced with having to support choices I didn't agree with, but sucking it up "for the greater good." It wasn't my best start to 2018.
This year has a much different vibe, more positive and affirming, and I'm proud of and happy with that. After a horrible April 2018, in May I took my life back. I really stood up for myself and my daughter and redefined our family norms. It was a bit rocky through September but we are still building, and growing. So this year, I'm just ready for 34.
Birthday wishes are great, but I no longer feel they are some kind of required barometer for a friendship or an attention level anymore. I feel grateful when someone remembers to text me, let alone remembers something as trivial as a birthday. I won't feel "forgotten" because people have lives and any relationship is complicated and scattered at times. Not getting a nod on a Facebook wall or a text the day of won't break my birthday or get anyone in trouble.
There aren't many years of my 34 on earth that I can recall the kind of strength and growth that I've manifested, especially over these last 6 months, so I want to celebrate that, more than anything else within the birthday. As an only child, my mom cannot help herself when it comes to making it a "thing," no matter how much I beg to just have some ice cream cake and call it a day. My husband gets annoyed I ruin my own requests by buying myself the stuff I need instead of waiting for him to do it for me.
I've decided that Jenny Lewis' new album "On The Line" was released as a birthday gift to me, as she is my spirit animal and one of my most favorite artists. She also starts her tour tomorrow, in Indiana unfortunately, but I can rock from here, regardless. I've been replaying her album as part of my reflective time because she usually writes and records all the feels I need, and somehow exactly when I need them. So, little things like this I consider part of the celebration.
For 34 I want continued growth, strength and bravery. I want to become less and less afraid to stand up for myself in every situation. Ironically this past weekend I had a recurring nightmare about still working in a place where I was made to feel intimidated, inferior and where my needs and requests were consistently ignored only to wake up disgustingly grateful that I'm no longer there. I'll take that as a good sign that I'm in a better place.
Also this weekend my family seemed to master "the chill," of which I am completely the worst. We did some household chores and some necessary upkeep, but we were lazy and watched too much TV, ate what we wanted, had a family sleepover, slept in and just bummed around. It's not something we indulge in often, even though it is necessary. On top of that, I had good conversations with favorite people about struggles and growth and about how we just need to face certain things head on anymore. We're too young to take it for granted and too old to mess around, and I think those two are interchangeable.
So 33, what else have you got for me? I'm ready for more with 34 and yes those all kinda rhyme in weird ways. Maybe the corny, dorky stuff comes with age too. Here's to growing up!
Thursday, March 21, 2019
Hal Versus Walter: You Cannot Possibly Appreciate Breaking Bad If You've Never Watched Malcolm In The Middle
Today we are going to introduce something a little different. As many of you have gathered, much of my childhood was spent as a "vidiot," a term my dad used to tease me with if I watched too much TV. There was no such thing as too much TV. I completely agree with all aspects of Jim Gaffigan's opinion on television, which you must YouTube immediately.
I was raised to watch many different, wonderful series. The more sarcastic and witty, the more we watched. My dad and I laughed endlessly at shows like The Simpsons, Seinfeld, Friends, Mad About You, Frasier, That 70's Show and the extremely well-written, completely under-rated sitcom, Malcolm In The Middle.
Malcolm In The Middle is about a family of 4 boys in middle America, with one wunderkind in their midst, struggling to find their way in the working class. It stars Bryan Cranston, best known for his award winning performances on the now infamous AMC series, Breaking Bad.
Breaking Bad is about a high school Chemistry teacher that gets a cancer diagnosis and, genius that he is, underpaid and struggling as their family is, decides to start cooking meth to make enough money to pay for his treatment and set up his family for when he dies.
Malcolm in the Middle debuted in 2000 and ran through 2006. Breaking Bad started in 2008 running through 2013. Like all great series of the past decade, I am always late to the party. I wait for the hype to die down before I'm completely invested and am usually so involved that by the last season I'm caught up, engulfed and then immediately depressed it all ends so fast.
When Breaking Bad began, I had only known Cranston's work from Malcolm in the Middle and bit parts in movies like "Little Miss Sunshine." I always liked him, but had no idea about his talent and it's range until Breaking Bad took off. When I finally watched Breaking Bad I was just completely amazed by his portrayal of the iconic, Walter White.
With all of this said it is my belief as a writer, reviewer, television and film enthusiast and even a fan, that you cannot possibly nor truly appreciate Cranston's performance in Breaking Bad, without first watching Malcolm in the Middle. Why? Well, here we go:
Malcolm in the Middle was wonderfully written, with amazing cynical and sarcastic humor and witty remarks and retorts. What Malcolm achieves that most sitcoms lack was a complete relate-ability to normal, American working class woes and problems. As a Friends super-fan, the lifestyles of the characters were a dream world, there was nothing relate-able about maxing out credit cards at Bloomingdales for me, ever.
In Malcolm, the mother and father, Lois and Hal, own a boring, normal and crappy two bedroom house with four ill-mannered boys and they never pretend to be anything but a family doing what they have to to make ends meet. Hal is some kind of office executive type and Lois works at a local drug store. The boys attend public schoo,l even though Malcolm tests a genius levels, and they don't break the bank to give him every chance, they make him succeed where he is. The boys have jobs when they come of age and are always a part of home life routines and chores, much to audience enjoyment and laughter.
There are episodes that talk about super normal things like "Pizza night" being a luxury and fighting over the last piece of bacon. There are forgotten mom-birthdays and arguing about pets, fighting over who gets new and who gets hand-me-downs. They have mom and dad struggling to buy new appliances and repair their crappy cars. They have two queen beds in a room with 3 boys and another kid in Military School, for which they scrape by to pay for only to have him emancipate at 17, ditch out, join the working world and hate it. He comes back in later seasons to help the family during their ongoing struggles. Put all of this together with great acting, hilarious jokes and coming of age stories and it's a hit, although seriously not appreciated in it's time.
My six year old and I have been watching a lot of Malcolm, and although it slips in some swear words like "ass" and is rife with "shut up" and "stupid" being thrown around, we laugh at what those silly, bad boys do and how wonderfully the parents discipline and reprimand them when they continue to act badly. It also portrays real marriage problems, like the strain finances cause between husband and wife, and not making real time for each other, health concerns and being overwhelmed. Again, ultimate, relate-ability.
For six years I watched Bryan Cranston as this lovable, goof ball dad, Hal and that was how I knew him best. When I saw Breaking Bad, his ability to portray that dark character and develop him was of course, award-worthy and nothing short of epic.
When an actor displays that kind of range in terms of ability to evolve such a character as the great Heisenberg, it is riveting, in my humble opinion. The evolution of Walter White is binge-worthy, to say the least, but watching him morph from this character you love and feel for, this underdog you root for, to this very subtle but terrorizing force to be reckoned with over 5 seasons of Breaking Bad is just an emotional cinematic journey.
There will be no major spoilers for those of you that have never watched, but for those of us who started off with simple intrigues like the series Weeds and were invested in "good people gone bad" story lines, Breaking Bad took the cake. It blew everything else out of the water.
Not only did Breaking Bad pay homage to Malcolm in the Middle on some late night comedy show flashback thing that was all the rage upon it's finale, but it really shows that Cranston appreciated his journey on his own, even more than we appreciated watching it on TV. He has since gone on to be in many more fantastic films but for me, he will always be Hal before Walter and not the other way around.
If you have watched neither of these, Malcolm is now available on Hulu and Breaking Bad is still available on Netflix. I highly recommend watching Malcolm first but if you first knew Cranston on Breaking Bad, definitely visit him pre-Heisenberg. Anyway, if Bryan Cranston ever comes across this, I'm not so much fan-girling as just appreciating the artistic abilities and craft when it comes to the acting. Perhaps I will start writing more of these perspectives, however under-rated or unappreciated in our time.
I was raised to watch many different, wonderful series. The more sarcastic and witty, the more we watched. My dad and I laughed endlessly at shows like The Simpsons, Seinfeld, Friends, Mad About You, Frasier, That 70's Show and the extremely well-written, completely under-rated sitcom, Malcolm In The Middle.
Malcolm In The Middle is about a family of 4 boys in middle America, with one wunderkind in their midst, struggling to find their way in the working class. It stars Bryan Cranston, best known for his award winning performances on the now infamous AMC series, Breaking Bad.
Breaking Bad is about a high school Chemistry teacher that gets a cancer diagnosis and, genius that he is, underpaid and struggling as their family is, decides to start cooking meth to make enough money to pay for his treatment and set up his family for when he dies.
Malcolm in the Middle debuted in 2000 and ran through 2006. Breaking Bad started in 2008 running through 2013. Like all great series of the past decade, I am always late to the party. I wait for the hype to die down before I'm completely invested and am usually so involved that by the last season I'm caught up, engulfed and then immediately depressed it all ends so fast.
When Breaking Bad began, I had only known Cranston's work from Malcolm in the Middle and bit parts in movies like "Little Miss Sunshine." I always liked him, but had no idea about his talent and it's range until Breaking Bad took off. When I finally watched Breaking Bad I was just completely amazed by his portrayal of the iconic, Walter White.
With all of this said it is my belief as a writer, reviewer, television and film enthusiast and even a fan, that you cannot possibly nor truly appreciate Cranston's performance in Breaking Bad, without first watching Malcolm in the Middle. Why? Well, here we go:
Malcolm in the Middle was wonderfully written, with amazing cynical and sarcastic humor and witty remarks and retorts. What Malcolm achieves that most sitcoms lack was a complete relate-ability to normal, American working class woes and problems. As a Friends super-fan, the lifestyles of the characters were a dream world, there was nothing relate-able about maxing out credit cards at Bloomingdales for me, ever.
In Malcolm, the mother and father, Lois and Hal, own a boring, normal and crappy two bedroom house with four ill-mannered boys and they never pretend to be anything but a family doing what they have to to make ends meet. Hal is some kind of office executive type and Lois works at a local drug store. The boys attend public schoo,l even though Malcolm tests a genius levels, and they don't break the bank to give him every chance, they make him succeed where he is. The boys have jobs when they come of age and are always a part of home life routines and chores, much to audience enjoyment and laughter.
There are episodes that talk about super normal things like "Pizza night" being a luxury and fighting over the last piece of bacon. There are forgotten mom-birthdays and arguing about pets, fighting over who gets new and who gets hand-me-downs. They have mom and dad struggling to buy new appliances and repair their crappy cars. They have two queen beds in a room with 3 boys and another kid in Military School, for which they scrape by to pay for only to have him emancipate at 17, ditch out, join the working world and hate it. He comes back in later seasons to help the family during their ongoing struggles. Put all of this together with great acting, hilarious jokes and coming of age stories and it's a hit, although seriously not appreciated in it's time.
My six year old and I have been watching a lot of Malcolm, and although it slips in some swear words like "ass" and is rife with "shut up" and "stupid" being thrown around, we laugh at what those silly, bad boys do and how wonderfully the parents discipline and reprimand them when they continue to act badly. It also portrays real marriage problems, like the strain finances cause between husband and wife, and not making real time for each other, health concerns and being overwhelmed. Again, ultimate, relate-ability.
For six years I watched Bryan Cranston as this lovable, goof ball dad, Hal and that was how I knew him best. When I saw Breaking Bad, his ability to portray that dark character and develop him was of course, award-worthy and nothing short of epic.
When an actor displays that kind of range in terms of ability to evolve such a character as the great Heisenberg, it is riveting, in my humble opinion. The evolution of Walter White is binge-worthy, to say the least, but watching him morph from this character you love and feel for, this underdog you root for, to this very subtle but terrorizing force to be reckoned with over 5 seasons of Breaking Bad is just an emotional cinematic journey.
There will be no major spoilers for those of you that have never watched, but for those of us who started off with simple intrigues like the series Weeds and were invested in "good people gone bad" story lines, Breaking Bad took the cake. It blew everything else out of the water.
Not only did Breaking Bad pay homage to Malcolm in the Middle on some late night comedy show flashback thing that was all the rage upon it's finale, but it really shows that Cranston appreciated his journey on his own, even more than we appreciated watching it on TV. He has since gone on to be in many more fantastic films but for me, he will always be Hal before Walter and not the other way around.
If you have watched neither of these, Malcolm is now available on Hulu and Breaking Bad is still available on Netflix. I highly recommend watching Malcolm first but if you first knew Cranston on Breaking Bad, definitely visit him pre-Heisenberg. Anyway, if Bryan Cranston ever comes across this, I'm not so much fan-girling as just appreciating the artistic abilities and craft when it comes to the acting. Perhaps I will start writing more of these perspectives, however under-rated or unappreciated in our time.
Tuesday, March 12, 2019
Your Thirties Are For Saying No To Everything You Got Away With In Your Twenties
With a birthday looming, I'm starting to reflect much more. Does that just come with age? This is also our 10 year mark for moving to Florida as of July. So here I am, getting all philosophical and introspective.
The amount of adulting and growing up I've had to do the past few years is actually kinda unfair, but I maintain I'm better for it. Your twenties are for partying, credit card debt, adventures and working hard specifically so you can play hard. I remember working 6 days a week between two jobs, drinking every night and Sunday sleeping until noon, mimosas with breakfast, beer with lunch, bed at 10 and back at it again for another week, and that was tame compared to most others I knew.
By the time I hit about 26 I was feeling less and less into that kind of party and was way more interested in hosting people for dinners, drinks, and hang out sessions. I liked lunches out and buying new home items. Parties were reserved for concerts and some weekends depending on paychecks.
For me, I feel like the worst of adulting came with parenthood. I really thought I had it planned out and things would be okay, but that's the thing about life, it takes it's own route, doesn't tell you it's changing, and sometimes you can barely scrape together to find a path, let alone decipher the "way you should" go.
In my twenties, concerts were always a yes, no matter how far the drive and if I didn't have the money, just swipe my credit card, the money could happen later, the concert was happening regardless. Between my husband and I, our credit cards were very much well known and accepted anywhere. While I felt the burden of that intensely, it took a lot of work to undo that frivolity, but I wasn't unwilling to do it.
I worked diligently on fixing finances to the point of being unfair and obnoxious. I still feel humiliated having to say "no, we can't afford it," to a lot. The difference from my twenties to now is, I prefer to stay in my real, live, grown up house, whereas I never wanted to be stuck at my apartment when I could be out spending money and living life. My thirties are for being frugal so I can take a vacation that involved leaving Florida.
As if I'm not feeling old enough, this is the last year of the Vans Warped Tour with a huge 25th Anniversary festival in both California and New Jersey. I must say that when I saw that line-up, I wanted to cancel both trips we were planning this year and just take myself to both for one more foray into being a Punk Rock Princess before my retirement from my festival concert days.
Warped tour was my first festival-type show when I was 18 and came with all the stories, swag and was the beginning of my love affair with live music. It was always fun to bounce between stages, get bumper stickers, shirts and leave for home broke, dehydrated and sunburned with bags of memorabilia, ringing ears, and dirty Vans or Converse. Plus there was always a Taco Bell run at the end of it.
Despite my years as an avid Warped Tour addict, some of the big bands I've still never seen. Between both coasts, they are all on there. Now, I know some of you have bucket lists that include seeing different countries and cities, and mine does somewhat, but I have Bucket List Bands. Most of them are now un-affordable, unattainable or unfortunately dead. But when I saw that line up I wanted to take out a loan and just go!
Alas, now that I'm in my thirties I say "no" instead of "let's go." Often this makes me feel lame but lately I've had a better appreciation of what comes with this stage, and for me that's peace and security. Peace and security have been just a dream like those items in stores in New York City where you have to ring the bell and look put together enough to be allowed entrance. The employees could see me, and I was drooling at the peace and security, all shiny on display within the window, but I couldn't get near it. There was no access point for me then.
Being allowed in the shiny security and pretty peace store is even just a recent feat, so I tread lightly. I am definitely incredibly and cautiously optimistic about how far we've come but also appreciative of the journey.
My twenties were fun, filled with celebration and simple problems. My late twenties, my entrance into parenthood, and quick steps into my thirties have been existential. It's been really rough, but also rewarding, leaving me with still a ton of work to do, which I'm not unwilling to participate in.
I do feel like family life makes me say "No," more often than not and the exceptions are few and far between. We bend the rules occasionally but have been far more vigilant about staying the course. To those of you who walk on the wild side and just firmly believe that everything will find it's way and work out, feel free to share that wisdom with me because I suck at it.
I think I've always had no choice but to grow up early. I was violently shoved from my American Girl Doll days of dressing them up and listening to Hanson to having to figure out all walks of life on my own. Navigating social aspects was tough at times, I was super naive and simple, but I definitely had my teenage rebellion under way when the time was right.
I did however, strive for my independence. I wanted to work and go to school so I could have what I wanted and cover what I needed. Defining want and need was what changed quickly between my twenties and thirties, but I think that change was for the better. Now I know the times we need to "splurge" and "live a little," and the ones where we need to be more frugal. Okay maybe lately I just always think we need to be frugal but still! It's a work in progress, I'm a work in progress.
As I'm inching very slowly towards the next stage, and the next age I just feel aware of so much that my twenties were built on that just does not fly now. Some of it is frustrating and unfair. Some of it is affirming and kind of rejuvenating, because I know that I'm in a place where I can say no. Growth game strong!
For the first time, in a very long time I will say this, I'm pretty okay with where I am. I have my bills paid, no exorbitant debt at this time, we have plans for end of year vacations looming, and I can still get a coffee from time to time. I know there is savings and retirement kind of things happening and I have high hopes for some new appliances. There will always be unexpected things, and saying no is way more common now than it was a decade ago, but sometimes saying no is okay, or so I've explored previously.
So, I toast to being close to another year of being okay with saying no to all the stuff I easily got away with in my twenties, and to being even more firm in my thirties, I'm enjoying each new stage, no matter how difficult. Although, if anyone wants to send me to Warped Tour, that I would say yes to!
The amount of adulting and growing up I've had to do the past few years is actually kinda unfair, but I maintain I'm better for it. Your twenties are for partying, credit card debt, adventures and working hard specifically so you can play hard. I remember working 6 days a week between two jobs, drinking every night and Sunday sleeping until noon, mimosas with breakfast, beer with lunch, bed at 10 and back at it again for another week, and that was tame compared to most others I knew.
By the time I hit about 26 I was feeling less and less into that kind of party and was way more interested in hosting people for dinners, drinks, and hang out sessions. I liked lunches out and buying new home items. Parties were reserved for concerts and some weekends depending on paychecks.
For me, I feel like the worst of adulting came with parenthood. I really thought I had it planned out and things would be okay, but that's the thing about life, it takes it's own route, doesn't tell you it's changing, and sometimes you can barely scrape together to find a path, let alone decipher the "way you should" go.
In my twenties, concerts were always a yes, no matter how far the drive and if I didn't have the money, just swipe my credit card, the money could happen later, the concert was happening regardless. Between my husband and I, our credit cards were very much well known and accepted anywhere. While I felt the burden of that intensely, it took a lot of work to undo that frivolity, but I wasn't unwilling to do it.
I worked diligently on fixing finances to the point of being unfair and obnoxious. I still feel humiliated having to say "no, we can't afford it," to a lot. The difference from my twenties to now is, I prefer to stay in my real, live, grown up house, whereas I never wanted to be stuck at my apartment when I could be out spending money and living life. My thirties are for being frugal so I can take a vacation that involved leaving Florida.
As if I'm not feeling old enough, this is the last year of the Vans Warped Tour with a huge 25th Anniversary festival in both California and New Jersey. I must say that when I saw that line-up, I wanted to cancel both trips we were planning this year and just take myself to both for one more foray into being a Punk Rock Princess before my retirement from my festival concert days.
Warped tour was my first festival-type show when I was 18 and came with all the stories, swag and was the beginning of my love affair with live music. It was always fun to bounce between stages, get bumper stickers, shirts and leave for home broke, dehydrated and sunburned with bags of memorabilia, ringing ears, and dirty Vans or Converse. Plus there was always a Taco Bell run at the end of it.
Despite my years as an avid Warped Tour addict, some of the big bands I've still never seen. Between both coasts, they are all on there. Now, I know some of you have bucket lists that include seeing different countries and cities, and mine does somewhat, but I have Bucket List Bands. Most of them are now un-affordable, unattainable or unfortunately dead. But when I saw that line up I wanted to take out a loan and just go!
Alas, now that I'm in my thirties I say "no" instead of "let's go." Often this makes me feel lame but lately I've had a better appreciation of what comes with this stage, and for me that's peace and security. Peace and security have been just a dream like those items in stores in New York City where you have to ring the bell and look put together enough to be allowed entrance. The employees could see me, and I was drooling at the peace and security, all shiny on display within the window, but I couldn't get near it. There was no access point for me then.
Being allowed in the shiny security and pretty peace store is even just a recent feat, so I tread lightly. I am definitely incredibly and cautiously optimistic about how far we've come but also appreciative of the journey.
My twenties were fun, filled with celebration and simple problems. My late twenties, my entrance into parenthood, and quick steps into my thirties have been existential. It's been really rough, but also rewarding, leaving me with still a ton of work to do, which I'm not unwilling to participate in.
I do feel like family life makes me say "No," more often than not and the exceptions are few and far between. We bend the rules occasionally but have been far more vigilant about staying the course. To those of you who walk on the wild side and just firmly believe that everything will find it's way and work out, feel free to share that wisdom with me because I suck at it.
I think I've always had no choice but to grow up early. I was violently shoved from my American Girl Doll days of dressing them up and listening to Hanson to having to figure out all walks of life on my own. Navigating social aspects was tough at times, I was super naive and simple, but I definitely had my teenage rebellion under way when the time was right.
I did however, strive for my independence. I wanted to work and go to school so I could have what I wanted and cover what I needed. Defining want and need was what changed quickly between my twenties and thirties, but I think that change was for the better. Now I know the times we need to "splurge" and "live a little," and the ones where we need to be more frugal. Okay maybe lately I just always think we need to be frugal but still! It's a work in progress, I'm a work in progress.
As I'm inching very slowly towards the next stage, and the next age I just feel aware of so much that my twenties were built on that just does not fly now. Some of it is frustrating and unfair. Some of it is affirming and kind of rejuvenating, because I know that I'm in a place where I can say no. Growth game strong!
For the first time, in a very long time I will say this, I'm pretty okay with where I am. I have my bills paid, no exorbitant debt at this time, we have plans for end of year vacations looming, and I can still get a coffee from time to time. I know there is savings and retirement kind of things happening and I have high hopes for some new appliances. There will always be unexpected things, and saying no is way more common now than it was a decade ago, but sometimes saying no is okay, or so I've explored previously.
So, I toast to being close to another year of being okay with saying no to all the stuff I easily got away with in my twenties, and to being even more firm in my thirties, I'm enjoying each new stage, no matter how difficult. Although, if anyone wants to send me to Warped Tour, that I would say yes to!
Monday, March 4, 2019
Menial Tasks Are All Me
Am I the only person who loves being given a specific, albeit menial task, just because you know exactly how it should be done, and why? Maybe I am, but there's a certain sense of accomplishment that comes with it's completion, and I am all for it.
I love a good spreadsheet or "search and find" task. Any form of organization makes me feel useful. Watching the hours pass as I type or enter data makes me feel calm. Maybe that's completely pathetic and lame, but I'm always up for a good mind-numbing to do list.
I like the kind of work where you can't completely daydream but it also doesn't require complete and utter concentration with full attention. I hate being bored or feeling lazy and useless. I hate having to worry about selling things or selling people on the idea of me selling things to make money. I labor much better under the agreement of you pay me, I do the work and it goes both ways.
I've seen this menial-happiness come and go with my jobs. In my nanny days I always wanted to find fun things for us to do, make play dough, read books, craft, go on adventure walks, watch new kid movies and I always tidied up at the end. I loved having control of all the fun kid plans. With my first retail gig at a medical apparel store, I loved reorganizing the displays and even counting inventory. I liked ordering the different styles and patterns of things and entering things into the system.
At the one restaurant I worked in, I always liked organizing the cash station so I could be more efficient. But when I worked at Massage Envy there was lots of merchandise to arrange, and we had to situate who went into what room when, which was like a weird version of Tetris. I got really good at it by the time I left.
Jobs where I don't have those things, I get really anxious and I don't do well, or so now I have discovered. When I worked at HSN overnights from home, the things I liked most, were against the "rules." Like I knew that the little old ladies that called me at 1AM to spend their pension on gaudy jewelry just wanted someone to talk to, I also knew that this would allow them to buy more as the conversation went on, but we were to stick to the script, keep the calls under a certain time barrier and move them along. I didn't get into it.
My other two jobs in between then and now, came with more than a few unpleasant attributes, they may be part of my book someday. But now that I have a legit office job with Alison-friendly tasks, I actually like helping do weird things like taking a country club address book and typing almost 900 lines into excel to make mailing labels for my boss and his wife. It doesn't bother me I just put on some good tunes and go!
Even at home, cleaning and arranging don't bother me because I know the task at hand. And then I earn my lazy TV time later in the day so it's easy checks and balances. I think there is a weird comfort there.
Don't get me wrong, I've never turned down a job, because I've always needed to work to like, pay bills and stuff, but we've all had less-than-awesome jobs. Not every job will use our skills to their fullest advantage. We barely use our own potential and abilities to the fullest.
I can edit, write and spreadsheet like nobody's business. I learned how to research and collect data with my degree! It's not always easy but it always has results, and there's something in there that gives me gratification and keeps me grounded.
I'm learning that I've become very good at tuning out the chaos. My personal world has been somewhat manic until recently. It's been an emotional train-wreck at times. I've seen and even felt it affect me at jobs, both negatively and positively depending on the circumstances. Sometimes I have weathered it well, and other times it's been pretty destructive, especially when I'm working in a position that doesn't allow me to use my best attributes productively.
I will help with any menial task. Stapling flyers, printing and filing, organizing and ordering supplies, typing, emailing, and researching, BRING IT ON!
I find comfort in routines and feeling control of the tasks in front of me, and I think this is telling in terms of my circumstances. I've been coming to terms with and processing a lot emotionally lately. What I'm working on most is my acceptance that I can't control the actions of anyone else, but just my reaction to what they put in front of me. I can't force ANY relationship to go the way I want to. Not even a mom friend, not even my relationship with my own child. My dog doesn't even always listen to me! But I can control my acceptance of the things in front off me.
This is a daily reminder and struggle. Constant mantras being muttered and internal sorting out of how to deal with all the feels! Because when I go to bed with my new and epic early bed time routine, I'll sleep better knowing I'm okay with how I reacted or with not getting my perfect idea of something, because I did my data entry like a boss, I released some updates faster today, or I came up with better social media hashtags. Little wins are a big deal and anything menial is mine!
Here's to Monday and I'm headed back to my menial research and spreadsheet action.
I love a good spreadsheet or "search and find" task. Any form of organization makes me feel useful. Watching the hours pass as I type or enter data makes me feel calm. Maybe that's completely pathetic and lame, but I'm always up for a good mind-numbing to do list.
I like the kind of work where you can't completely daydream but it also doesn't require complete and utter concentration with full attention. I hate being bored or feeling lazy and useless. I hate having to worry about selling things or selling people on the idea of me selling things to make money. I labor much better under the agreement of you pay me, I do the work and it goes both ways.
I've seen this menial-happiness come and go with my jobs. In my nanny days I always wanted to find fun things for us to do, make play dough, read books, craft, go on adventure walks, watch new kid movies and I always tidied up at the end. I loved having control of all the fun kid plans. With my first retail gig at a medical apparel store, I loved reorganizing the displays and even counting inventory. I liked ordering the different styles and patterns of things and entering things into the system.
At the one restaurant I worked in, I always liked organizing the cash station so I could be more efficient. But when I worked at Massage Envy there was lots of merchandise to arrange, and we had to situate who went into what room when, which was like a weird version of Tetris. I got really good at it by the time I left.
Jobs where I don't have those things, I get really anxious and I don't do well, or so now I have discovered. When I worked at HSN overnights from home, the things I liked most, were against the "rules." Like I knew that the little old ladies that called me at 1AM to spend their pension on gaudy jewelry just wanted someone to talk to, I also knew that this would allow them to buy more as the conversation went on, but we were to stick to the script, keep the calls under a certain time barrier and move them along. I didn't get into it.
My other two jobs in between then and now, came with more than a few unpleasant attributes, they may be part of my book someday. But now that I have a legit office job with Alison-friendly tasks, I actually like helping do weird things like taking a country club address book and typing almost 900 lines into excel to make mailing labels for my boss and his wife. It doesn't bother me I just put on some good tunes and go!
Even at home, cleaning and arranging don't bother me because I know the task at hand. And then I earn my lazy TV time later in the day so it's easy checks and balances. I think there is a weird comfort there.
Don't get me wrong, I've never turned down a job, because I've always needed to work to like, pay bills and stuff, but we've all had less-than-awesome jobs. Not every job will use our skills to their fullest advantage. We barely use our own potential and abilities to the fullest.
I can edit, write and spreadsheet like nobody's business. I learned how to research and collect data with my degree! It's not always easy but it always has results, and there's something in there that gives me gratification and keeps me grounded.
I'm learning that I've become very good at tuning out the chaos. My personal world has been somewhat manic until recently. It's been an emotional train-wreck at times. I've seen and even felt it affect me at jobs, both negatively and positively depending on the circumstances. Sometimes I have weathered it well, and other times it's been pretty destructive, especially when I'm working in a position that doesn't allow me to use my best attributes productively.
I will help with any menial task. Stapling flyers, printing and filing, organizing and ordering supplies, typing, emailing, and researching, BRING IT ON!
I find comfort in routines and feeling control of the tasks in front of me, and I think this is telling in terms of my circumstances. I've been coming to terms with and processing a lot emotionally lately. What I'm working on most is my acceptance that I can't control the actions of anyone else, but just my reaction to what they put in front of me. I can't force ANY relationship to go the way I want to. Not even a mom friend, not even my relationship with my own child. My dog doesn't even always listen to me! But I can control my acceptance of the things in front off me.
This is a daily reminder and struggle. Constant mantras being muttered and internal sorting out of how to deal with all the feels! Because when I go to bed with my new and epic early bed time routine, I'll sleep better knowing I'm okay with how I reacted or with not getting my perfect idea of something, because I did my data entry like a boss, I released some updates faster today, or I came up with better social media hashtags. Little wins are a big deal and anything menial is mine!
Here's to Monday and I'm headed back to my menial research and spreadsheet action.
Sunday, February 24, 2019
Sometimes You Just Need A Nap
I saw this meme that I'm promptly posted that said "I feel like I'm tired already tomorrow." This is me. Always.
Now I thought this was just a part of me as a person. Sleep is my favorite hobby. Alison needs her sleep. I also figured I lost enough sleep during infancy and working nights that now I was just trying to hoard it. Now we know I have thyroid type issues. Or so they surmise thus far. I blame that.
Being resilient doesn't come without waves of exhaustion. My post yesterday was in an exhausted stupor, which some of my faithful readers probably picked up on. And this morning was more "go go go."
Look, I haven't practiced "The Art Of Doing Nothing," since I became a mother. That luxury is not one afforded. And my abilities or even inabilities to relax come in waves. Sometimes my body literally is like, "Bitch you're going to slow down, watch."
This week was a shoulder injury, lots of fun, so heating pad time is a daily routine. I'm still nursing it. And then staying up too late every single night finally caught up to me. Last night I thought I was super clever. I took an Excedrin PM and was asleep by 9:30PM! But then from 11:30PM to about 4AM I was awakened every hour or so by child, dog or husband until I finally ended up on the couch until my 6:30AM alarm to rally the troops for church.
I had an Excedrin hangover haze. Not fun. And then I was so cold in church I was physically uncomfortable, also thyroid related. I was super miserable. When we came home I walked the dog, and decided to "warm up and lay down" for a bit. Apparently I passed out for a little over an hour and woke to my husband assuring me that the kid was content and he was off to work. I guess I needed it.
I'm that person who sees naps as something I need to book in advance, like a massage. Rarely do I get to just "Have one," so sneaking one today was inadvertently amazing.
Of course I woke up in cleaning mode in order to "earn my relaxation" later. I have since done the tubs and wiped down all surfaces while my faithful RoboVac picks up all the floor yuck. My daughter has been crafting and creating and I slowed down to blog it out.
Sometimes you DO just need a nap. More often than not, we DESERVE a darn nap. We work hard, we play hard. We spend too much time doing what we "should" instead of doing what is "good" for us and that's something I am the worst at. Why watch 3 hours of television when you could paint that shelf you've been meaning to? Oh well because sometimes we need a bit of lazy!
I think we are so hard on ourselves and it's hard not to be hard on ourselves as redundant as it seems. It's work, workout, family dinner, bed time routine, repeat in some way, shape or form. I know plenty of people who operate on like 4 hours of sleep and somehow keep kicking ass at life. I, for one, cannot even be kind of nice without my 8. I can function but I'm a mean, mean redhead.
I'm learning that self care is anything BUT selfish, or should be. I'm learning that sometimes YOU JUST NEED A NAP. And there's no shame in that! You're human! We're all humans! I'm learning that boundaries, either with friends, spouses, co-workers, and within yourself are necessary some times and that this is all part of adulting, whether we like it or not.
So I'm going to enjoy the rest of my Sunday even if it's covered in cleaning and laundry. I will binge-watch and relax because tomorrow is back to the grind! Take a nap if you haven't yet! I fully support it!
Now I thought this was just a part of me as a person. Sleep is my favorite hobby. Alison needs her sleep. I also figured I lost enough sleep during infancy and working nights that now I was just trying to hoard it. Now we know I have thyroid type issues. Or so they surmise thus far. I blame that.
Being resilient doesn't come without waves of exhaustion. My post yesterday was in an exhausted stupor, which some of my faithful readers probably picked up on. And this morning was more "go go go."
Look, I haven't practiced "The Art Of Doing Nothing," since I became a mother. That luxury is not one afforded. And my abilities or even inabilities to relax come in waves. Sometimes my body literally is like, "Bitch you're going to slow down, watch."
This week was a shoulder injury, lots of fun, so heating pad time is a daily routine. I'm still nursing it. And then staying up too late every single night finally caught up to me. Last night I thought I was super clever. I took an Excedrin PM and was asleep by 9:30PM! But then from 11:30PM to about 4AM I was awakened every hour or so by child, dog or husband until I finally ended up on the couch until my 6:30AM alarm to rally the troops for church.
I had an Excedrin hangover haze. Not fun. And then I was so cold in church I was physically uncomfortable, also thyroid related. I was super miserable. When we came home I walked the dog, and decided to "warm up and lay down" for a bit. Apparently I passed out for a little over an hour and woke to my husband assuring me that the kid was content and he was off to work. I guess I needed it.
I'm that person who sees naps as something I need to book in advance, like a massage. Rarely do I get to just "Have one," so sneaking one today was inadvertently amazing.
Of course I woke up in cleaning mode in order to "earn my relaxation" later. I have since done the tubs and wiped down all surfaces while my faithful RoboVac picks up all the floor yuck. My daughter has been crafting and creating and I slowed down to blog it out.
Sometimes you DO just need a nap. More often than not, we DESERVE a darn nap. We work hard, we play hard. We spend too much time doing what we "should" instead of doing what is "good" for us and that's something I am the worst at. Why watch 3 hours of television when you could paint that shelf you've been meaning to? Oh well because sometimes we need a bit of lazy!
I think we are so hard on ourselves and it's hard not to be hard on ourselves as redundant as it seems. It's work, workout, family dinner, bed time routine, repeat in some way, shape or form. I know plenty of people who operate on like 4 hours of sleep and somehow keep kicking ass at life. I, for one, cannot even be kind of nice without my 8. I can function but I'm a mean, mean redhead.
I'm learning that self care is anything BUT selfish, or should be. I'm learning that sometimes YOU JUST NEED A NAP. And there's no shame in that! You're human! We're all humans! I'm learning that boundaries, either with friends, spouses, co-workers, and within yourself are necessary some times and that this is all part of adulting, whether we like it or not.
So I'm going to enjoy the rest of my Sunday even if it's covered in cleaning and laundry. I will binge-watch and relax because tomorrow is back to the grind! Take a nap if you haven't yet! I fully support it!
Saturday, February 23, 2019
Saturday Slow Down
It's Saturday night. My husband switched shifts and is at work. My daughter is binge-watching My Little Pony on "the big TV," and I'm in my room with The Office on in the background, the heating pad on my back avoiding laundry, counting down to bed time for us both and toying with the idea of a long shower.
This is my Saturday slow down. I don't know about other households, but for me, the weekends go way too fast and always have so much going on. Last night we switched things up and my husband took the kiddo to Daddy Daughter Date Night and I drove two hours to get "free" tickets to an upcoming concert as a birthday present to myself. We all went to bed at like 10PM. We are all exhausted and we have early church things tomorrow.
Saturday Slow down consists of popcorn, tea, and blogging apparently. I'm mentally trying to prioritize the rest of my evening while appreciating the little wins for today.
The little wins were getting to horseback riding lessons early and being patient that they were running late. I got to catch up with two of my favorite people and hear how they were doing and talk about normal, wonderful mom things. And I'm more centered and focused on the now lately.
My struggles right now are definitely tribe-based. It's hard for me to sift through how to process certain exchanges and friendships. I have so many people in my corner, that's undeniable, but I definitely practice the "know your audience" rule about you can talk about certain things with certain people and how those certain people influence me in general.
This is something that I'm really in tune with right now. It ties into my perspective and mindfulness. But lately I've been so tired, it's tough to muster much energy to delve into it all, but I think I might find some new ways to better explore all of this. And I'm open to suggestions.
So for this Saturday night, while it is short and sweet, here's a little win from my room to you all that I actually completely the blog in the midst of exhaustion, confusion and chore avoidance. I hope you all have Saturdays that rock, Saturdays that are super fun and productive. I'm hoping Sunday will be that "day of rest" I've heard about. So here I go!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Haircut PTSD Lessened By Stranger Things
My daughter's first haircut was unfortunately out of desperate necessity after the car accident four years ago. My daughter has gorgeous...
