Suddenly Seymour

I did it again. I agreed to a job that I didn’t stop to consider whether I wanted to do it, but rather whether I could do it.

At about 3pm yesterday, I get an email from a woman I’ve babysat for before saying her sitter cancelled, and could I sit for her tonight. Almost immediately, without pausing to consider one way or the other, I email her back and say thank you, but I have my final paper due for school tomorrow, and I really need to concentrate on getting that done. But think of me for next time.

Then, my brain starts in. Couldn’t I finish the paper before I sit for them? Sure, I’ll barely get home, scarf down some food, and rush out to BART where she’ll pick me up, but I could do it, right? I mean, I want her to know I’m a reliable babysitter, someone she can call on to pay me x amount of money. If I don’t take this job, she won’t think of me next time. If I don’t take this job, I’ll be out a handful of cash, and I could use it.

So.Many.“Could”s. I could do it. So, I email her back, and say, you know what, I think I can do it. Let’s meet at this BART station at this time.

Then, all of the reality of my over-commiting sinks in. Really, Molly? I’m actually back at home, jacket still on, sitting on my floor with my Shakespeare paper open on my laptop when I realize that I’ve done it again. (Oops) :P

And so, now, at the last minute, I text her and let her know that I thought I could do it, but I really can’t, and that I’m so sorry for accepting a job that I couldn’t really take. She texts me back to say No worries. But, it stuck with me.

This is one of those death-rattle behaviors. These are the last vestiges, it feels to me, of a behavior that is on its way out. But, as is usually the case, the Universe will give me a few more opportunities to see if I’m really willing to let go of accepting things I don’t want to do, can’t do, feel I “should” do. Am I ready to stop chasing the crumbs?

Cuz that’s part of what it comes down to. If I don’t show up for this thing you’ve asked of me, you won’t give me love, esteem, validation. If I don’t show up, even in a resentful, exhausted, crippled manner, you will forget about me and I will be invisible.

Obviously, to a rational observer, these are lies. As more likely, when I am rested, refilled, and available in mind and body, then am I more able to give anything at all. People are not asking me to give from the dregs of my well to them. They’re asking normal questions. And I’m offering them my dregs. That’s not fair to anyone involved, and certainly, then, when I flake.

I had a situation this weekend where a woman had agreed to meet me at a time and place, and I made effort to get into the city to do so. While I’m on BART, she texts to say she can’t make it, and I’m furious. Way more pissed than the situation calls for – and I know it’s because it’s the same behavior I dislike in myself. Why agree to something when you know you can’t do it?

My flakiness is a result of agreeing to stuff that I can’t show up for. I agree to stuff I can’t show up for because I maintain a system of belief that you will only love me and care about me if I’m Super Molly. I am willing to let this go, because it’s just not working anymore. Super Molly is a flake, and I don’t want to do that anymore. I’d rather be human Molly, making commitments I know I can, and showing up to those fully and without resentment. I’d rather be human Molly who doesn’t need to feed on the approval of others for my sustenance. As human Molly, it means that I am equal to you – no better, no worse, and I don’t have to prove I’m either.

Finally, in meditation this morning, I had the song “Suddenly Seymour” from Little Shop of Horrors come to me (yes, sometimes my meditations are weird). But what occurred to me about it is that the song's "Seymour" = my Higher Power. (fyi, i get tons of puns and sight gags in my dreams and meditations. my mind/heart is one that would cook something like this up with no problem!) My HP is “here to provide me” with everything I need. My HP, "treating me kindly" with "sweet understanding."* I don’t need to depend on others’ approval for my self-esteem, I don’t need to depend on my fear-based thoughts when I answer requests from others, I don’t need to dig from my dregs to be a member of this world. We’ll see how willing I am to let go of all of this when the next opportunity comes up, but (I hope) for today, Seymour’s my man. 

*and because I can't resist... "I'd meet a dollar/approval, I'd follow it blindly - A job snaps its fingers, Me? I'd say sure!"

The Buddha says hello first.

It’s a good thing a friend of mine told me this yesterday in regard to another situation, as I ran into a woman today who I have some discomfort with.

Earlier this year, I was attempting to make Oakland friends and so was having lunch with this woman who I'd begun to pal around with a little. She was telling me about a person who'd offended her, and began to generalize about people who were “doing it wrong.” I got a little defensive at her blanket statement, and thought that her thinking someone else was doing it wrong was wrong. Of course, I did not see this irony at the moment.

Instead, at the moment, I pulled a Molly, and began to give her my own bit of unsolicited advice. I am a Queen of unsolicited advice. It has so many different disguises, it should own a costume shop. Sometimes, it looks like me telling you what I’ve done, so as to insinuate what you should do. “Well, I know when I was in a similar situation, I did xyz,… [pregnant pause, where they're supposed to get the hint of what I’m actually telling them to do].”

Sometimes, my unsolicited advice looks like me telling you what other people have done who I believe have done it the “right” way. “Well, I know when my friend went through a similar situation, she did xyz,… [pregnant pause, where they're supposed to get the hint of what I’m actually telling them to do].”

“I’ve heard about this book/website/meditation/ointment that might be helpful...”

“Have you considered…”

“I used to do that, but now I…” (ha! that’s always a good one - people loooove that)

Cuz F U, Molly D. Who the hell am I. I don’t know what’s “right”. What’s right for you - even what's "right" for me. Places where I get mired in the “right way” to do something are usually places where I’m scared to let go of my perceived control. If I don’t tell you what to do, you won’t survive. If I don’t figure out what the right way is to do this thing, I’m not valuable.

All of these are crap.

I dated a guy once who had a gluten allergy, and when we’d be out at restaurants, I found myself making sure he knew what had gluten and what didn’t … as if he hadn’t lived for 30+ years without my help ordering from a menu. I caught myself on it eventually, and laughed, but yeah, the idea that without *me* people are not going to “be okay.” I know where this comes from – there were years when I did have to take on doing things "the right way" to ensure that things got done at all, that shades got drawn in the morning, that hair got combed. But, I’m not 10 anymore, and the situations are entirely different. 

And most importantly of every single thing, these people are not asking me.

That’s something that's pointed out to me regularly – “Are they asking you?” Hey Friend, so you’re telling me about this situation in your life (housing, job, money, love, family), and obviously I’m a guru about this shit, so why don’t I tell you precisely what I think you should do.  …. No. 99.9% of the time that they’re not specifically asking me my opinion or my advice, they’re not asking my opinion or my advice. Actually, it’s probably more like 100%, but I still want to get my wedge in there somewhere! ;P

So, anyway, back to the woman I ran into today. We haven’t really seen or spoken to each other since our mildly combative lunch date several months ago, when I began telling her her perspective was (perhaps) skewed, and she told me very directly that she was not asking for feedback on her perspective, period. So, I saw her today. And sure, I still have my opinion, but she’s not asking me, and really, it’s none of my business. (Mind my own business and have business to mind.) And I remembered that quote from yesterday, that “The Buddha always says hello first.” And so, I said hello, she said hello, we were cordial with superficial pleasantries, and said goodbye.

I don’t need to be "right" here. And I would really like to stop telling people what I think about what they’re doing when they’re not asking me. As, no matter what costume I dress it up in, I end up looking like a witch. 

circa 1994

So, I have a new crush. Not that the maroon 5 singer wasn’t delish (see "pulling a carmen" blog), but, I just finished watching “Junebug,” a movie with amy adams and alessandro nivola – and I dunno folks, but something....... Y-u-m. Lately, I feel like there’s 15 year old girl inside me who's been making these choices for me, as it’s been a while since I’ve had “star” crushes. Although, of course, the billboards for crazy stupid love (not steve carrell – sorry steve!) and the new Sherlock Holmes have been lovely head-turners.

When I was home in NJ packing up my room, I found my stash circa 1993 1994, so I was 13ish at the time. … Johnny, and Keanu. I had pages and pages of them each taped over my bed. On the wall above my head was Johnny, and to my right was Keanu. In the mornings before school, I would watch a half-hour of either “Speed” or “CryBaby” – yes, very different movies. And at night, I would kiss each of the gentlemen on their paper lips. Ha! I was a girl. It was great. The Johnny pools of deep luscious brown, and Keanu in a crumpled suit in a claw foot tub in the middle of a field of weeds.

It’s funny what we remember. Like how much our music tastes are concretized when we’re young. When I was getting ready for the dance party last night, I threw on the LIVE album, Throwing Copper – also 1994 as it turns out – and although it wasn’t as uptempo as a party prepping moment and I changed the cd, I still knew all the lyrics. The things we touch back to. The nostalgia that becomes a part of our persona. It’s interesting.

At 13, however, I was a frizzy haired gangly girl with acne, coke bottle glasses and a gap between my front teeth. (Like many middle schoolers!) And so we cling to idealized images from Bop! magazine, and the tortured melancholia passion of a rock album.

Hm. It’s sorta nice to look back with compassion for the 13 year old, to hold on to some of the things she liked, to hold them today as funny stories and taste values.

To undeftly switch gears, but surely related in some stratosphere, I sent Chanukah presents to both my parents this week. As some of you have read, I have been working toward some semblance of reconciliation with my mother after our 6 month incommunicado status. And though we have been texting, and though she sent me a card on my birthday in October, well, I finally shipped to her her birthday present – from June. Our final conversation was around then – I’d already bought these very “mom” presents – an old fashioned magnifying glass with a beautiful fake mother of pearl handle (it’s funny cuz she’s old) ;P and a set of red painted coasters with a bunch of different roosters on them – to match her red couch, a self-identified marked leap for her into color a few years ago. The presents were perfect. Then we careened into the minefield of our relationship and I got indignant and punitive and never sent the gift to her. It’s been in my closet since June.

So after talking with Patsy last Sunday about sitting with the idea of what it would be like to send her a Chanukah present without expectation, I took the present out of my closet. And sat it on my desk. ! Two days later, I picked up an empty box from work. Two days after that, on Thursday, I brought the box into the city and shipped it to my mom. In the box, I’d wrapped the gifts in white and blue tissue paper (Chanukah colors, naturally), and put in the watercolor “giraffe in a scarf” card I’d painted, with a note on the back that I thought she’d like these things and I love her, and happy holiday. (btw, there’s a cellist somewhere in my building or the one next door, and he’s really good – and he’s practicing right now – it is so gorgeous.)

I wrapped the box, and was conscious of letting all of this go out across the country to the Upper East Side with love. With the spirit of giving – which demands no return, which doesn’t even demand she like it – but just truly to say, these reminded me of you, and I love you. Yeah, it took 6 months to get there, but, I am here now. And she should get them soon.

To my dad, I sent something similarly freeing. As I feel it now, it’s miraculously powerful to get to give these gifts to my parents – not the gifts, but the freedom, if only momentarily, from my judgment of them. To my dad, I sent one of those LL Bean canvas tote bags that literally can hold a small child. I had it monogrammed: “D & B”. My dad, Drew, and his fiancé, Barbara.

My dad has recently begun signing every email to me, “Love Dad and Barbara.” This has pissed me off. That my relationship with him is now no longer with him, it’s with a pair, with an entity that is “Dad and Barbara.” But, as I’ve almost always said over their 10 year courtship, I respect her because she makes my dad happy. And that is true.

So, I sent it with a card, To Dad and Barbara, May you use this well in Florida, Love Molly. Because guess what, my dad loves her. He wants to be identified together with her. He wants to be one of a pair, and it’s none of my f*ing business how he wants to be identified. It’s like a person adopting a gender pronoun that they prefer to be called. Who cares if you have a penis, and want to be referred to as “she.” I would call that person whatever the f they wanted to be called – it’s not my call. And, so, neither is it my call to exclude Barbara, even in this way, from my life, or from my Dad’s life. So, to D&B. And off it went. And truly, I do hope they use it well in their new home in Florida. I know it’ll mean a lot to her, and it means a lot to me to see this stubborn, snide child give way to an inclusive, loving adult. It’s pretty huge.

So, like I said, I don’t know how these topics relate, but they’re what’s on my mind. A 13 year old girl-like crush, and no-strings-attached consideration for parents. I can live with all this multi-faceted nonsense, because it’s human, and whole. And 13, or 30, I still think this man is delish. ;)

Heart Art and Romance.

Today was a good day. I worked my desk shift at the gym, got to talk a little trash/indignation about the leering guy who came into class yesterday … and got kicked out. A “back spasm” doesn’t allow you to sit & stare at women whose legs are up over their head with their cooches hanging out. Then I came home, began to boil some cinnamon for ghetto air freshener, and cleaned my apartment, including the dishes.

I normally would not have done that, having been awake at 6:45 this morning, but I had a girl friend coming over to meet for an hour, and if it weren’t for those weekly meetings, my house would likely devolve into a sanctuary for monocellular creatures. So, it always makes me feel good to clean it up – I do believe that my home environment is a direct reflection of my headspace – hence the post-nuclear disaster.

After she left, I took a good old fashioned nap. After that…I went on Theater Bay Area, and took my own kick-in-the-butt from this morning’s blog and emailed 2 casting directors…and…signed myself up for an audition slot in January…for a musical. That’s right. A musical theater company. Cuz, whatever dude. I’m gonna suck at anything I do in the beginning. and this IS the beginning. So, whatever. I’m going to try my best – maybe NOT do what I did for Sunday’s audition and actually learn my monologues and songs far enough in advance to really feel confident. ... well, confident-ish.

There are two more casting calls to apply to, but they only list phone numbers, which is a whole new level of fear ;P so, that’ll wait until Monday – normal business hours, right?

Then, I got ready for a party. A holiday glitter dance party to be exact, and man was it fun. I saw people from SF I hadn’t seen in a while, and met new people who live here in Oakland, plus my SF transplant/defector friend, who I’m really glad to have on this side of the Bay.

I danced, I was silly, and energetic, and shy and awkward, and *tall* in my lovely heels and skirt I wore again :). And I drank a lot of ginger lemonade punch, and laughed at others’ silly dance antics – and some really good dance battles! It was fun. I hadn’t felt that in a long time. I was really glad to be there, social awkward self-centered fear aside. I had fun.

Some of the women were part of an Artist’s Way group who had their annual “check-in” today, and were going to do an intention setting. It’s like new year’s resolutions, or any resolutions, only instead of all the self-will-power of a resolution (damnit, it’s gonna happen – THIS year), it has the openness and groundedness of being rooted in love, truth, self-respect, and ultimately, Faith.

So, I got to write down my intention on a piece of paper, and we all walked out of the house party to the backyard like a wonderfully powerful, giddy coven under a full though cloud covered moon, and around the circle we voiced our intentions, burned them, and said a little prayer/blessing of honoring our intentions into the universe. It was pretty affirming – and so unexpected! I’ll tell you mine, because, hey, an intention isn’t a birthday wish, it’s a statement of what I intend to do, and to bring into my life through my action and adherence to my core. It was short, as I didn’t know it was happening till last minute – but that also helped me to edit.

“To follow thru with my heart, art, and romance.”

Simple, yeah; silly, to some; but, to me, that’s what I’m doing, and I intend to continue doing it. 

While the going's good

Hey folks - how you been? I'm currently sitting at the desk shift at the dailey method - yes at 7:15am. I traded my shift from last Friday with this Saturday, as I knew I needed the morning free last week, as I was getting ready for my teaching demo etc.

What I did do this Friday, yesterday, was my classical song for voice class - in Italian. Surprisingly, that song went much better than "Have yourself a merry little christmas," which was the holiday song I chose to sing. My teacher emailed me earlier this week to say another student was going to sing that for our "Holiday Performance" class, and I could do it, but I might want to choose a different song.

So, I paused, and thought about it. And the next morning, Wednesday, my mom texted me to say that Meet Me in St. Louis would be on TV that night. ... For those of you who don't know, Judy Garland sings the above song in that movie - and it's really sad and beautiful. It's at this moment after a little girl has just slain the snowmen she made of her family in the backyard because they're moving from that house, and Judy come fetches her and comforts her (all while in this gorgeous fur coat and bright red dress), rocking her and singing that, "We'll all be together, if the Fates allow, Until then, We'll have to muddle through somehow."

The song always gets me, I cry like a little girl.

So, when my mom texted me that the movie would be on, I decided to sing Have yourself a merry little christmas anyway. And when I sang it yesterday, all drama and all aside, I dedicated the song to my mom. And I totally teared up then too. Now, granted, it was not the performance of my life. I was really nervous, and all full of jiggling emotions, and I was all dressed up in heels and a really hot pencil skirt I've worn once because it was a class party, and we're supposed to dress up for classes when we perform - which is all to say I was also a little ...embarrassed? about looking so nice.

But, I sang it, and as is almost always the (genuine) feedback, the class and the instructor said that I have such emotion and presentation and stage-presence. So, maybe my voice is not Judy today, but I showed up with my whole heart & body anyway. And sometimes that's enough. I've heard the "stage-presence" thing often enough to maybe stop dismissing it. My teacher actually said That's something you cannot learn. So, that felt good. And next it'll be time for me to leap again and show up for another audition, or rather, email back to some casting calls.

I had an interesting moment this week. I was offered a temp gig over my winter break from school at the awful, Office Space-esque company I worked for before. I'd hemmed and hawed on it, trying to see if I could stay with the interior design firm instead, but they couldn't guarantee that they would need me in January, or for how long. So, I accepted the job.

Then, on Wednesday, I'm being driven home from class by a school-mate and she's telling me how she'll be using the break to really begin thinking about jobs after graduation (in MAY!), and I tell her, well, I'm going to be working full-time in the city, and I'm not going to have one day of holiday the entire break, and I'm actually looking forward to when classes will begin again (in over a month!), because then I can finally breathe again.

Anybody else sense a *warning* in the above? Any tinge of resentment against the job I haven't even started yet? A large bout of self-pity for not having any time off at all? An intense feeling of overwhelm? Well, yeah, I finally got that too. And on Thursday, the next morning, I met with a girlfriend at lunch to talk about NOT working AT ALL over my winter break from school.

It hadn't even occurred to me that I would be able to afford not working over winter break. But, it did in my morning pages on Thursday morning, What if I don't work over break? Can I?

So, that morning, I crunch the numbers. If I don't work over break (3 weeks - as I'm with the interior design firm til Christmas), I will be entirely covered - entirely covered - through the whole month of January. And what happens mid-January? My student loan replenishes, and I will have enough. I do have enough. I *don't* have to work over break.

But... being the mind-f*king woman that I am to myself, I work the numbers as to how much I'd earn if I did work (despite ALL self-care information to the contrary). How much would I earn? Enough.for.a.car. A used car, but enough for a car.

What could I use that car for? AUDITIONS!!! Holla!! .... What else? The live modeling gig - they require you have your own transportation as many of the gigs are all over the Bay, at various schools, universities, studios. So... I need a car, right? I need a car to help follow my dreams right? I need a car to be more available for auditions & for gigs, right? ... I need a car under these circumstances when I would be working myself so hard that I nearly cried talking about it with my girl friend at lunch on Thursday, right? ...

Luckily, my friend is wise, compassionate, and has a mountain of faith in all of our dreams. She said that she doubts that the Universe would make it this hard - that she doesn't believe in the kind of Higher Power, if you will, who would make us grind ourselves to the bone for our dreams. If it's meant to be, it usually is simple. That does not mean easy - we have to do work on our end - but look at so many of the things that have just "fallen into place" in my life (See "Wordless but Effective Chant" blog). In each situation when I've given up forcing myself into a situation which did not fit, I was led to something which was immensely better.

That continues to happen. So, ... my friend and I made an action plan for me. First was to call my temp agency and to decline the job in cubicle purgatory. Also along those lines was to affirm that I would be more conscious next time I was offered a job before I accepted it. I actually hadn't really asked myself whether I wanted it (I knew/know I didn't; I was just focusing on having continuous work, as I thought that's what I needed). So, that's my action of reparation for the future - to do things differently. Hopefully.

I did call the temp agency, and she said, So you can't work even a little? And, I said, No. (with all the attendant thank yous and I apologize, etc). And she said, Okay, Thanks for letting me know. And that was that. Cuz, despite the fact that the woman at the new job asked for me specifically (I'd worked there last year and she and I got along really well), and that she rejected other applicants, and that "she only seems to want you," ... (some ego may be mixed in here too, huh). Despite all that - I AM NOT the only woman able to adjust the margins of a 300 page Word document. I am not the only woman able to recalibrate your Table of Contents. Yes, it's hard, because the whole document is fucked and it's mind numbing to highlight and tag and adjust and readjust - it's time consuming and takes patience and diligence - but guess what, I'm NOT the only woman, or person, able to do this job. I appreciate your faith in me, and your appreciation of work I have done in the past but,

Anty needs a recharge. ;P

The other action items were to look into getting away over break. Getting somewhere out of the city, somewhere warm. So, I'm looking into that. Reaching out to my network of elves, I mean friends. If it doesn't work out, my girl friend will be out of town between Xmas and New Year's and offered me her place in the city. So, that would sort of be vacationy, and also would mean I wouldn't have to commute in if I'm doing city related friend things. It's just an offer, a generous and sweet one.

But, just to know that I will have OPEN TIME. FREE TIME. Time that isn't filled with dubious stains on BART seats; institutional recycled air; or resentful exhaustion - that's my Christmas gift (or Chanuka rather!) to myself.

My part of this whole bargain is also to *do* some of my thesis. To email the theater companies. To check out an open mic (that's one of my self-assignments lately).

But, also, Super Molly, part of my assignment is to take a long walk in some semblance of outdoors, even a park in the midst of a city. To paint my toenails. To see friends. To see new friends. This is a vacation after all.

If the Universe wants me to have a car, it'll be easier. If the Universe wants me to get an audition, I'll go "buy a ticket" and apply. If the Universe wants me to feel calm, useful, and available, I'll let it.

Priorities

Sorry ladies and gents: School is taking precedence to my “blog-a-day”, with sleep a close second. Therefore, till next Wednesday night at 11:59pm (when my last paper is due), I can’t guarantee to quench your daily thirst for the blogosphere. ;) 

Thanks for reading – I do enjoy it, but I need to sleep now.

Must Be Present to Win

There’s a parable that goes something like this: A man in Italy goes every day to a statue of Jesus, and prays every day, “Jesus, please let me win the lottery, please let me win the lottery.” This man, every day goes to the statue with the same prayer. “Please let me win the lottery.” One day, the statue comes to life and says back, “Then buy a ticket.”

So, today I bought a ticket. Metaphorically. I threw my hat in the ring. … Also metaphorically, I really like my hat.

If my audition back in April or so was a belly flop with my eyes open (OUCH), then this was a belly flop with my eyes closed. So, it means, I’ve learned ;)

On my way out, I texted several friends to say I sort of blew it – my 2^nd monologue went better than my 1^st, the first being too much of a Shakespearean tongue twister I just couldn’t get memorized. But, that I did it.

A friend then called me and told me her story of her first audition and not even knowing what they meant when they asked what she’d “prepared.” And so, we learn. I learn. Sure there’s a twinge of disappointment, but more than that twinge I feel like I now know several things: first off, I know how long it takes me to memorize something – and it’s more than 12 hours!! Yep, I really only started to memorize today, although I chose the monologues…yesterday? Friday? So, yeah, good to know. and then also good information to not beat myself up. I gave it a really good go. But it was also, as I’ve said, a week of insanity with school and work, and so, good enough is good enough here.

I give myself an “A” for effort. And next time, perhaps I can prepare longer in advance.

The other things I’ve learned are, a) I can show up (Hurrah! good for me!) :) b) where to get headshots done; c) I have allies.

More than any of my other times of leaping off a cliff, this time I asked for more help, followed through on those suggestions, and reached back out to people – this is a newish thing for me – as I sometimes feel that if I’ve asked you for help once, that’s it, my lifetime supply of asking that one person that one favor or for one bout of help is used up. No more, well dry, try someone else.

That’s.Not.True. Sure, some people aren’t the giving type, but for the most part, the people in my life are invariably giving, kind, supportive, and generous. So, I asked for help a second time, and my acting friend showed up for me. And you know what? She’ll probably even take my call next time too ;)

So, that’s the end of this one round (at least I believe so – callbacks are tomorrow, so I’ll know soon enough whether I am or not). But it’s one round, not the match, or game, or series.

I’m also more willing this time to “fail,” which I’ve heard is the key to any success. Being willing to stumble is the only way to learn to walk, right? Persistence. Patience.

And maybe my next belly flop will be a cannonball instead. (Whether that’s a “better” thing or not, I have no idea) ;) (thank you friends, for your support)!!