roots

Roots have always been a sort of shifting thing for me. My southern roots are deep, it’s true. But when I was 8, I moved to the west coast. I became a successful transplant. And while it’s true that I lived in WA longer than I lived in OK, I spent so much time in OK on vacation and family related trips that my roots there remained strong.

Both states felt like home. Neither state felt like home.

And then I met LH. And when you marry the military it adds a whole other dimension to shifting roots. You’re told when to pick up your entire life and you’re told where to take it. And when you get there, you know on day one that your time in that place is already counting down. So you make friends and you do things, but it never really becomes home. Except it does a little.

Even when LH and I settled in TX and he separated from the Air Force, we knew our time there was limited. Our plan was to go to TX, finish his enlistment, finish school, take the world by storm. That didn’t exactly happen. Not all of it anyway.

The year after I left TX was the most rootless in my entire life. A few months in WA, a few in NY, a few more in WA, and then the move to CA. There were times when I felt homeless, even though I never was. There were times when I was acutely aware that my most major possession was my truck. That inside it’s cab was the only space I could call my own.

I’ve managed to build myself a quiet little life here. It’s a life I’m pretty fond of. But, I’ve been here for almost three years now. So I’m starting to feel that itch. The moving itch. And truth be told, there’s some pretty strong gravitational pull toward the middle of the country. To Texas. To Chicago. To New Orleans. Santa Fe.

Instead, I’ve done something to deepen my roots here. I joined a board of another performing arts organization. It’s not the sort of thing you do if you’re only planning on being around short term. I feel good about the decision. But at the same time, there’s that little part of me that’s aware of it’s larger implications.

There are plenty of reasons to stay here. More reasons to stay than to leave, really. But there’s just something about making an active, deliberate decision to commit to a place that sketches me out a little. Maybe because I view the world as being small and easy to move around in and I don’t want to lose that. Maybe because part of me worries about missing out on something that is happening somewhere else. Maybe because my fear of entrapment really is that big.

I don’t know. What I do know, is that from all appearances, it seems I’ll be staying here for a while.

Protected: shall we begin again?

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following my own advice

It’s time for me to follow my own advice. And just let go.

I know what I want. I hope that Aaron is the one that gives it to me. But this trip has clarified many things for me. Namely that I need to move on with my life. To pursue the things I need and want to pursue in terms of my career. To not lost sight of the rest of my life. To not take 10 steps backwards towards being the beaten down shell of a person that I used to be.

I’ve lost track of how many people have told me in recent months that I haven’t seemed the same. And while I’ve feigned surprise every time someone has said that, in truth, I know that since meeting him I haven’t been the same. That’s a good thing.

Because I came to the bay area after some very trying times. Unspeakably ugly divorce proceedings and then a year bouncing around, mostly living with my folks, trying to get back on my feet. I needed to heal. I needed to find some stability. I did that.

And now, it’s time to look towards the next chapter. To truly get back on my feet financially. I’ve not made the best decisions this year in that regard but I’m finally on the road to fixing that issue. I’ve started a low key search for a job that will pay a higher salary. My boss is aware and has given me his blessing. In return I’ve made certain commitments and assurances. In the mean time, I’ve found a way to pick up some extra cash. In a way that I certainly won’t be writing home about, or writing here about, but it will do what I need it to do.

I’d like to channel some of that extra cash towards my singing career. Resume private training. Book some studio time and lay down some demo tracks. We shall see. At any rate, I no longer question the fact that performing is something that is important to me. The symphony chorus wasn’t the right fit. The recent corporate gig was a perfect fit. I just need to devote some energy to finding suitable outlets.

I used to be very good at finding healthy outlets to channel emotions. Energy. I’ve let those things go. I’ve let my meditation habit slip. I feel the difference. At the end of the day, no one can make me happy but me. No one can make me feel good about myself the way I can. So some things need to change.

I’m giving up on competing. At least in my personal relationships. This is the hardest thing for me. Especially when you factor in my polyamorous nature. There’s always someone with whom there is a perceived need to compete. But I’m done. I just am. I have to be. Because at the end of the day I know I’m a catch. I’m smart, ambitious, compassionate, good sense of humor, sensual. And if I have to convince someone that I’m worth being with, then that person is not someone who deserves me. It doesn’t mean I won’t speak up for what I want. It doesn’t mean I won’t be willing to make some compromises. But either I mean enough to you to become a priority, or not. Simple.

I still love him. I still believe that he and I could make a very nice life together. But I’ve spent the last two months crying and agonizing over whether or not it will ever come to fruition. Setting myself up for rejection when there’s no indication that rejection is ever coming. And I can’t live like that. So me moving on is not a reflection of me loving him any less. It is about me loving myself more. And more than anything I say that want I really want is to find someone with whom I can share my life. Where we each have our own busy schedules and friends and activities. That we choose to share, but we also keep some parts separate. And in order to do that, I first need to get a life.

So, I’ll be thoroughly enjoying the remainder of my trip. I am loving going to bed in his arms each night. Especially when I’ve gotten up in the middle of the night for a trip to the loo or a glass of water and when I slip back into bed he reaches for me in his sleep. But this trip has changed me. I still believe he is forever. But I understand now that there is no way on earth I can speed things along. I can’t make forever happen faster. I can only do what I need to do to make it a more enjoyable ride.

my friend in the picture

I’m cat sitting for a friend this week. There’s a picture on her desk that just breaks my heart every time I look at it. It’s nothing really, not at first glance. Just a snap shot. She and her partner are at the beach. Both of them donned in wet suits and flippers. In one hand she holds the lines that tie to their boogie boards. Her partner has taken her in his arms and is carrying her towards the water. Her hair is in a long braid. Her feet seem to be kicking the air happily. She is reclined and comfortable in his arms. Their faces are turned toward each other and even though you see only their profiles, even though the lighting is bad and they are dim, the joy on their faces is unmistakable.

I’ve been looking at this picture for days. Each time thinking about how happy that moment was. If they remember it well, even when they are away from the picture. Wondering if I’ll ever have that kind of love. But also trying to figure out what it is about this very simple picture that moves me so.

I showed the picture to another friend tonight. Someone who knows us both. Me and my friend in the picture. She too found it beautiful and she hit the nail on the head. She pin pointed exactly why it is so sweet. Because our friend in the picture is a machine. She is a life force. One to be reckoned with. One to revere. She is passionate about her work. About causes. She is hyper intelligent. Incredibly capable. She is no nonsense. She has a huge laugh. She is thoughtful and empathetic to others. She is a person who brings balance to chaos.

But in this picture, she is the one who is being taken care of. It is her partner, who has literally swept her off of her feet. She is not the one driving the moment. And she is embracing it and finding happiness in being cared for.

And it made everything clear for me.

Ever since the divorce I’ve had this single minded drive to reclaim my independence. To live my life completely on my own. I’ve refused to lean on anyone. I learned how to put air in my tires. I’ve put together my own IKEA furniture. I’ve battled spiders and ants and mice on my own. Oil changes and heavy lifting. I’ve arranged my own travel and my own rides to the airport. I’ve vacationed alone.

And I just don’t want to do any of it alone anymore.

It’s not that I can’t take care of myself. I know that I can. I just don’t want to. Not all the time. I want someone who wants to take care of me a little. Who wants to sweep me into his arms and carry me into the ocean.

I think I’ve felt that way for a while now. But I’ve been so afraid to say it. Because it seems so reminiscent of who I once was. But I don’t feel that way anymore. Because before, I didn’t know if I could really take care of myself. If I could strike out into the world on my own and blaze a trail. Now, I know that I can. I’ve just decided that I’d much rather do that with someone at my side. And knowing, makes all the difference in the world.

And I’ve always said that I believe that just because two people become a couple, it doesn’t mean they cease being individuals. That the happiest partnerships are where each person has a full life of their own, they just choose to share those full lives. It’s just that I’ve never had a real role model for that.

But I think now I do. My friend in the picture.

blue

I’ve been quiet here. Because I don’t feel like I have much to say. Nothing interesting or relevant anyway. Mostly I’ve been feeling blue. Because I miss SB terribly. I’m in withdrawal. All those days together with nothing to do but talk. Now I’m in detox.

I miss all the boys in my life really. BOF has been having some rough times and it kills me that I can’t just hold him for a while. Just so he has a place to escape. As close as he and I are (and things have ramped up a notch actually), the reality of our situation is that he and I exist in phone calls, e-mail, and IM. There are just too many states between us. And 98% of the time that’s enough. Our connection transcends the separation. But sometimes…I wish it were different.

Hollywood. Oh Hollywood. Again it’s long distance but not as extreme as BOF. And we’re both content to keep it that way. Or so we say. Sometimes I wonder if it’s more that we’re each afraid to take it to a different level. To be a little more conventional. To speak the unspoken words. But we don’t. I had a dream about him the other night. One that consisted of nothing except my head on his chest and his hands in my hair. Where I could feel the coolness of his skin against my cheek and the backs of his calves beneath the soles of my feet. And as verbose as I can be I could not find the words to tell him about it.

GF has been calling and texting lately. I’m not really sure why. I have suspicions but I’m not willing to go down that road. I closed that door. She’s just still out there. Knocking. What she does is make me wonder if I should have a special boy or girl locally. Even though I know I’m not really ready for that. Because I have a very full life. Work and singing and volunteer commitments and friends and impending grad school and personal projects.

I fear that I entrusted someone when I shouldn’t have. That I may have made a very large mistake. One made under the guise of going big or going home. I’m not sure yet. I just have this gut feeling. But I also know that I have huge trust issues. Ones that will take active work to get over. So I’m watching and waiting. Hoping that the gut feeling is wrong.

And then there’s work. Where I feel pulled in a hundred different directions. Still tied to my old position until I can get my replacement fully up to speed. Which is holding me back from effectively dealing with the new responsibilities on my plate. And the theater season is fast approaching. I’m excited about the new stuff on my plate. Looking very forward to many projects. Loving that I’m getting to flex my brain muscles in this way. Just wishing I wasn’t spread quite so thin still trying to balance the old in with the new.

So I’m just in a funk lately. Since getting home from vacation. And I can put on the happy face to go about my day but when I come home I just can’t. And most days I’ve wanted to write I’ve not really wanted to hear my own bitching.

It’s spring. There will be spring cleaning this weekend. In my apartment and in my soul. Because life is much too short to be blue. But I am going to leave the radio in the truck on the soft rock station for a few more days.