I had a job interview yesterday. Is it my idea of a dream job? Nope. Is it forever? Nope. Is it for right now? Yup. During this last year I went from 3 jobs down to one. The one I kept was that of a lunch room supervisor in a suburban middle school. One of my Aunts is a band director there and when she heard I was looking for something part-time she told me about the opening, I interviewed and was offered the job the same day.
Basically my roll was to make sure that the kids behaved in the lunch room and out at recess. There were good days and there were not so good days. My Twitter followers were around during the year to hear some of the stories about my days there. I had nothing to do with the food or food prep, so the lunch lady song didn't apply to me.
I have spent most of my life working with kids in some way shape or form. For those that don't know I'm a dance teacher by trade. (see post Why I Teach). I love kids. I relate to kids. I understand kids. The job I'm being considered for is at an indoor inflatable playground for kids. Otherwise known as "My bestie's worst nightmare". It was a good interview, and I like a challenge. It will definitely be that. I do not lack patience. If anything, I have too much sometimes. It has hurt me on occasion. I digress.
It's a management position, which is good on a couple of different levels. One, I have 15 years of retail management experience. Also, I don't do well with idle. The busier I am, the better. And while Mom has ear plugs for me already, I welcome the noise. It keeps my mind busy. Sucks that adults can't go and jump around in the inflatables though, cause duuuude. How FREAKIN FUN WOULD THAT BE?! (Yes, Mel... I'm THIS many! lol)
If I get this job, I won't be returning to the middle school. It's bittersweet, but right now I need more than part-time. I need to work and provide for my family. It's important to me. Not working since school has let out has killed me. Financially and physically. I have felt a lack of direction. Of no use, and a failure as a parent. I know they say men take great pride in being able to provide. A big part of their self worth comes from this. I think the same can be said for some women. I would be among those. I sent a tweet today that said, "We teach our children not only with words, but through our actions." My father may drive me crazy, but one of the things am proud of, is that through his actions he has taught me self discipline, and instilled a strong work ethic.
I am not one of those women who are in search of a "Sugar Daddy". Never have been. If I don't earn it, I don't want it. Which is also why I have such a big problem with feeling like a charity case. Very seldom do I ask for help. If I can't do it on my own, then I don't wanna do it. My stubborn pride gets in the way at times. Happens to us all I believe at one time or another.
Anyway, I got a call today and am going in on Sunday for a second interview. This is a good sign. And a step in the direction I want go. It's a job that puts me around kids, and that brings me joy. And it will help me provide for my kids, which is the bigger goal. Yes, their Father pays child support, but that covers what it it's supposed to and I want more for my kids. No I didn't ask for alimony, because I don't want a dime from him. I just wanted him to take care of his kids. Asking for alimony is just one more way he would have control over me. Unacceptable. Been there, survived that.
So yesterday was a good day. Today is a struggle, but my migraine finally went away and the night is young. Tomorrow? Well, I won't worry about that, because worrying about tomorrow's troubles only takes away from this moment's peace. *deep breath* Right now, in this very moment, I have that, and for now, it's enough. :)
Friday, July 8, 2011
Thursday, July 7, 2011
The Rain...
The name of the grade school I went to was All Saints. It was an old building with it's own church on the same lot. It was a very small school that held grades K-8 in one building. I didn't go to Kindergarten there. My Dad was stationed in Germany then so I went to Kindergarten on the american base in Wiesbaden.
I graduated 8th grade with 7 other kids. Yup. That's right. There were 8 kids in our 8th grade class all together. Would you believe I still talk to most of them on occasion? I then went to Dowling Catholic High School with over 400 kids. Cutlure shock to this shy kid? That would be an understatement. I spent the first semester in various stages of panic. The last panic attack I had was the first time I seperated from my now ex. It was not pretty. I was on the phone with Mom at the time. She talked me through it. Not a memory I want to talk about so moving on...
Where I *was* going with this, was the first time I ever danced in the rain. I was in the third grade. My teacher's name was Sister Marie. She was one of the nicer nuns. It was Sister Francis that made a failed attempt at trying to get me to write with my right hand. She did get me to straighten out my left hand though. I don't write like normal southpaws. My hand doesn't curve. We can thank the ruler thwapping for that.
We were outside for recess one day, and it started to rain. To try and give you a visual, the church and the school sit parallel to each other with a wide slab of concrete between them. There was a box for four square and a couple of hop scotch areas and a jungle gym behind the church. On the other side of the school building was another big slab of concrete where we'd play all the games for P.E.. Tether ball, dodge ball, that big parachute thing, kick ball, etc. You weren't "supposed" to go over there during recess. *side eye*
Sooooo....when the rain started, guess where I was? I wanted to be able to dance where no one could see me. Now, keep in mind this was before I even started taking actual classes. I didn't want anyone to make fun of me, so I'd go off and dance where no one could see. Unbeknownst to me, when the rain started, Sister Marie stood in the doorway of the classroom ( Her room had it's own seperate entrance) and called all the kids in. Not entirely sure why she didn't find it odd at all that there was a child missing. lol
I remember so vividly this moment, that I can even tell you that I had on a knit rainbow striped top and that those stripes were horizontal and not vertical. I have no idea why I remember that detail, other than it was one of my favorite tops because the purple in it was the brightest color of all of the stripes. I was out by the tether poles dancing and singing when the rain started. I was so absorbed in what I was doing that I didn't realize that it was in fact raining. Then...it started POURING. Any normal third grade girl would run squealing inside. Not me. I've never really fit "the mold". I have ALWAYS been a misfit. Still am. Only now, people call it being a leader. I just call it being me. A work in progress.
The second it started pouring.....I danced all over the entire black top, belting out Singing in the Rain. and the crowning moment was when I ran toward the tether ball pole, swinging around it like Gene Kelly. Then I splashed in 7, yes, 7 whole puddles! Working my way towards the church when all of a sudden I noticed there was no one else outside. Oops.
So I went back to the classroom and knocked on the door. Sister Marie opened the door, took one look at me, grabbed me by the arm and yanked me inside. The kids who weren't laughing were sinking into their chairs, embarassed for me. I didn't care. Up until that moment, I was the happiest kid on earth.
To this day......put me in the rain and let me dance.......and I'm the happiest kid on earth.
And the day I *finally* find someone who loves to dance in the rain as much as I do........I'll be the happiest woman on earth.
Note: I want to dance to this song with someone in the rain...... http://youtu.be/b1B5FP8LKlQ
I graduated 8th grade with 7 other kids. Yup. That's right. There were 8 kids in our 8th grade class all together. Would you believe I still talk to most of them on occasion? I then went to Dowling Catholic High School with over 400 kids. Cutlure shock to this shy kid? That would be an understatement. I spent the first semester in various stages of panic. The last panic attack I had was the first time I seperated from my now ex. It was not pretty. I was on the phone with Mom at the time. She talked me through it. Not a memory I want to talk about so moving on...
Where I *was* going with this, was the first time I ever danced in the rain. I was in the third grade. My teacher's name was Sister Marie. She was one of the nicer nuns. It was Sister Francis that made a failed attempt at trying to get me to write with my right hand. She did get me to straighten out my left hand though. I don't write like normal southpaws. My hand doesn't curve. We can thank the ruler thwapping for that.
We were outside for recess one day, and it started to rain. To try and give you a visual, the church and the school sit parallel to each other with a wide slab of concrete between them. There was a box for four square and a couple of hop scotch areas and a jungle gym behind the church. On the other side of the school building was another big slab of concrete where we'd play all the games for P.E.. Tether ball, dodge ball, that big parachute thing, kick ball, etc. You weren't "supposed" to go over there during recess. *side eye*
Sooooo....when the rain started, guess where I was? I wanted to be able to dance where no one could see me. Now, keep in mind this was before I even started taking actual classes. I didn't want anyone to make fun of me, so I'd go off and dance where no one could see. Unbeknownst to me, when the rain started, Sister Marie stood in the doorway of the classroom ( Her room had it's own seperate entrance) and called all the kids in. Not entirely sure why she didn't find it odd at all that there was a child missing. lol
I remember so vividly this moment, that I can even tell you that I had on a knit rainbow striped top and that those stripes were horizontal and not vertical. I have no idea why I remember that detail, other than it was one of my favorite tops because the purple in it was the brightest color of all of the stripes. I was out by the tether poles dancing and singing when the rain started. I was so absorbed in what I was doing that I didn't realize that it was in fact raining. Then...it started POURING. Any normal third grade girl would run squealing inside. Not me. I've never really fit "the mold". I have ALWAYS been a misfit. Still am. Only now, people call it being a leader. I just call it being me. A work in progress.
The second it started pouring.....I danced all over the entire black top, belting out Singing in the Rain. and the crowning moment was when I ran toward the tether ball pole, swinging around it like Gene Kelly. Then I splashed in 7, yes, 7 whole puddles! Working my way towards the church when all of a sudden I noticed there was no one else outside. Oops.
So I went back to the classroom and knocked on the door. Sister Marie opened the door, took one look at me, grabbed me by the arm and yanked me inside. The kids who weren't laughing were sinking into their chairs, embarassed for me. I didn't care. Up until that moment, I was the happiest kid on earth.
To this day......put me in the rain and let me dance.......and I'm the happiest kid on earth.
And the day I *finally* find someone who loves to dance in the rain as much as I do........I'll be the happiest woman on earth.
Note: I want to dance to this song with someone in the rain...... http://youtu.be/b1B5FP8LKlQ
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Twice blessed....
For those of you reading these daily posts and who also follow me on Twitter, you may have heard me talk about my Mom. Some of you may also be slightly confused as my Mom passed away in 1990. In 1991 my Dad remarried. Didn't know it then, but this woman would end up being my saving grace in so many ways. While technically she is my Stepmom she has never been that in my heart. She is and will always be Mom. She has now been in my life longer than my real Mom was.
I have been at war with myself. We've well established that. For me, the only way for me to go....is through. That's how I've always been. It may be muggy for a while as I process things and turn things around and over in my head, but eventually I flip a switch, knock back into my heart and off I go. That's where I am now. Moving forward through my heart. And all it took was one email from my Mom to fill it up and send me moving again.
There are some who, if told, "You can't do that." They respond with a "Oh yeah, watch me." My daughter is that way. Ever since she was little the quickest way to get her to do something was tell her she can't do it.
Then, there are others who need the opposite kind of encouragement. "You CAN do it!" They respond with a "Are you sure? You really think so? OK!" That's my son.
I am somewhere in between. Some things make me say, " Wanna bet? Watch me." Then there are other things that make me say, " I don't think that's possible. Too many things working against me to try."
The following is the email convo I had with my Mom today. She still hasn't come home after walking out on my Dad on Monday. They're pulling a Ross and Rachel. "We were ON A BREAK!" lol Her response is why she is so AMAZING and how easily she can make everything OK. (Blue is her favorite color so she always responds in blue. )
From: Schuler, Jenny
Subject: how you doin'?
To: Ann Marie
Date: Wednesday, July 6, 2011, 2:48 PM
I have been at war with myself. We've well established that. For me, the only way for me to go....is through. That's how I've always been. It may be muggy for a while as I process things and turn things around and over in my head, but eventually I flip a switch, knock back into my heart and off I go. That's where I am now. Moving forward through my heart. And all it took was one email from my Mom to fill it up and send me moving again.
There are some who, if told, "You can't do that." They respond with a "Oh yeah, watch me." My daughter is that way. Ever since she was little the quickest way to get her to do something was tell her she can't do it.
Then, there are others who need the opposite kind of encouragement. "You CAN do it!" They respond with a "Are you sure? You really think so? OK!" That's my son.
I am somewhere in between. Some things make me say, " Wanna bet? Watch me." Then there are other things that make me say, " I don't think that's possible. Too many things working against me to try."
The following is the email convo I had with my Mom today. She still hasn't come home after walking out on my Dad on Monday. They're pulling a Ross and Rachel. "We were ON A BREAK!" lol Her response is why she is so AMAZING and how easily she can make everything OK. (Blue is her favorite color so she always responds in blue. )
From: Schuler, Jenny
Subject: how you doin'?
To: Ann Marie
Date: Wednesday, July 6, 2011, 2:48 PM
From: Ann Marie Thomas
Sent: Wednesday, July 06, 2011 3:01 PM
To: Schuler, Jenny J
Subject: Re: how you doin'?
Sent: Wednesday, July 06, 2011 3:01 PM
To: Schuler, Jenny J
Subject: Re: how you doin'?
| Well other than being broke and feeling like an utter failure in the parenting department, I'm golden. My resume is now being revamped by my friend Jenn in NYC. I'm fairly certain the fact that it sucks is why I can't even get an interview anywhere. I have a blog, but just this week I decided to write everyday. Last night's entry was about the trip Theresa and I took to Boston with Dad. It made me realize even more than I did before that I have always been a big city East Coast girl. So, as terrifed as I am, I'm continuing to look out there for work. I have no idea what I'm gonna do if I find something, but they always say you miss a hundred percent of the shots you don't take. Part of me, is afraid that I won't find something here OR there, but my heart and gut tell me that's where I'm supposed to be. If I keep ignoring my heart like I have for the last, oh I don't know 15 years or so, I'm never gonna get to where I'm meant to be. And I don't just mean location. Does that make any sense? It's Mel's bday today, so Jen and I took her to Mama Laconas last night. It was fun. Haven't said a whole lot to Dad. How are you? From: "Schuler, Jenny" To: "'Ann Marie Thomas'" You’ve always been an East Coaster, I saw that when you were 16, you just didn’t have the “life” experience to survive there, then. NOW YOU DO!!! So go for it!!!!! When you find something if I can help figure out the details with you, I will!! Being broke, hey it’s easier to balance your check book! This comes and goes, don’t beat yourself up. And Parenting….the word failure was invented so we could describe how we feel sometimes, but this too, passes and somehow they still love ya!!! J I’m fine, actually kind of enjoying the “break”. If I didn’t live just two blocks from Mom it wouldn’t even look weird, so my story is I’m there for a visit and I’m sticking with it!! When I do come home, and I will, the first Sunday family dinner will be a BD party for Mel, my other daughter. See you can feel like a failure as a parent and then all of a sudden everyone wants to be your kid…go figure!! Now, stop picking on yourself, and go dance in the yard!!!!!!! Love ya Momma So.......NYC it is! :) Am I scared? Damn straight. Will it stop me? Not this time. In my life to have two amazing women I could call Mom and for another chance at making a long lost dream a reality? Twice blessed indeed. I don't know where it will take me, but It's gonna be one helluva a story one day. ;) |
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Farfegnugen, Kitaro and the moment I fell in love with Boston...
Otherwise known as "Who the hell let's a 16 year old drive on a NYC expressway?!"
After my Mom died (for that story read the post The Cheese in my Cheesecake), things were obviously a bit strained at home. I struggled in school. I'm fairly certain I only passed Chemistry because the teacher felt sorry for me. I honestly don't remember anything the rest of that school year. In an effort to try to bond with my younger sister and me, and to try to get our heads back on track, Pops decided that it would be a good idea to take a road trip.
So that following summer, we loaded up into my Grandpa Leo's Farfegnugen contraption and headed east. This thing was like a van/camper. The top raised a little and there was a bed up there and the couches converted into a bed below. It was basically a mini RV. If I could find a picture of one I'd show you. Anyway, the plan was to go to Boston. He was trying to make me happy. I applaud him for his efforts, however driving for 12 hours I was ready to grab my suitcase and get out and walk the rest of the way. Have you ever heard of Kitaro? Look it up. My Father insisted on playing it the ENTIRE trip. Said we should expand our music interests. Dude. Seriously, look it up. Pretty for a few songs, then....22 hours later and you want to stab your ears with a pen.
Needless to say we made it to Boston. Yup. We went to Dorchester. In fact we drove around Dorchester for two friggin hours because I insisted that I could find Donnie. I was 16 years old people. What the hell did I know?
I remember driving past Fenway Park, and thinking how cool it would be to go to a game. Pops played baseball in High School, which is why I ended up playing little league. I was the only girl on an all boy team. The team name? The Bears. And yes we sucked (*nodding* Go ahead. Laugh it up. It's totally fine). I LOVED to throw, LOVED to run, HATED batting. All those things still hold true. The memory of playing catch with him in the backyard just popped into my head. I'm a southpaw, but I only write and eat with my left. I do everything else with my right. So I would catch left and throw right. Sorry, I got sidetracked . Moving on...
I don't remember where we camped, or even sleeping much. Never was much of a sleeper. Brain is too busy. Bits and pieces of campgrounds along the way flash in my head, but I can't quite grab onto a solid memory of them. I bet my younger sister could, or Pops for that matter. He'd remember that kind of stuff.
We took in all the historical sites and ended up stopping at Faneuil Hall Marketplace and eating at one of the outdoor cafes. I remember just sitting there, and watching all the people and SO much entertainment! I wasn't sure where to look. Except at the clowns I wouldn't look at the clowns. I intensely dislike clowns. The first time I had ever seen street musicians was that day. Watching them perform was the moment I fell in love with Boston. It wasn't the all the historical places we had just seen, although they were cool too, but it was sitting there surrounded by a world of performing artists. I felt like I was meant to be there. I can't tell you what they played, but I just remember how happy they were, and how happy they made me feel.
Even now, if I still myself, close my eyes, and take a deep breath I can smell the food and hear the commotion. And flowers. I remember a lot of brightly colored flowers. Looking back now, it's probably why I fell in love with NYC. Of course I still have to get over my fear of driving in NYC, but I blame Pops for that one. He decided on our way home we should make a pit stop in NYC and somehow decided that it was a brilliant idea to put me behind the wheel of the friggin van on the expressway. I don't know which one. All I remember is almost tipping the frakkin thing over because I was taking an off ramp way too fast. Why? Because I was scared shitless that's why. Genius Pops. Friggin genius.
After that fiasco, and on the way back home I remember making the decision that I HAD to go back. Couldn't get it out of my head. I fell for a boy from the city and his city made me fall in love with the arts again. I decided that fall that I was going to go to The Boston Conservatory and major in dance and minor in music.
That dream didn't happen though. That's a different story. Perhaps another time...
After my Mom died (for that story read the post The Cheese in my Cheesecake), things were obviously a bit strained at home. I struggled in school. I'm fairly certain I only passed Chemistry because the teacher felt sorry for me. I honestly don't remember anything the rest of that school year. In an effort to try to bond with my younger sister and me, and to try to get our heads back on track, Pops decided that it would be a good idea to take a road trip.
So that following summer, we loaded up into my Grandpa Leo's Farfegnugen contraption and headed east. This thing was like a van/camper. The top raised a little and there was a bed up there and the couches converted into a bed below. It was basically a mini RV. If I could find a picture of one I'd show you. Anyway, the plan was to go to Boston. He was trying to make me happy. I applaud him for his efforts, however driving for 12 hours I was ready to grab my suitcase and get out and walk the rest of the way. Have you ever heard of Kitaro? Look it up. My Father insisted on playing it the ENTIRE trip. Said we should expand our music interests. Dude. Seriously, look it up. Pretty for a few songs, then....22 hours later and you want to stab your ears with a pen.
Needless to say we made it to Boston. Yup. We went to Dorchester. In fact we drove around Dorchester for two friggin hours because I insisted that I could find Donnie. I was 16 years old people. What the hell did I know?
I remember driving past Fenway Park, and thinking how cool it would be to go to a game. Pops played baseball in High School, which is why I ended up playing little league. I was the only girl on an all boy team. The team name? The Bears. And yes we sucked (*nodding* Go ahead. Laugh it up. It's totally fine). I LOVED to throw, LOVED to run, HATED batting. All those things still hold true. The memory of playing catch with him in the backyard just popped into my head. I'm a southpaw, but I only write and eat with my left. I do everything else with my right. So I would catch left and throw right. Sorry, I got sidetracked . Moving on...
I don't remember where we camped, or even sleeping much. Never was much of a sleeper. Brain is too busy. Bits and pieces of campgrounds along the way flash in my head, but I can't quite grab onto a solid memory of them. I bet my younger sister could, or Pops for that matter. He'd remember that kind of stuff.
We took in all the historical sites and ended up stopping at Faneuil Hall Marketplace and eating at one of the outdoor cafes. I remember just sitting there, and watching all the people and SO much entertainment! I wasn't sure where to look. Except at the clowns I wouldn't look at the clowns. I intensely dislike clowns. The first time I had ever seen street musicians was that day. Watching them perform was the moment I fell in love with Boston. It wasn't the all the historical places we had just seen, although they were cool too, but it was sitting there surrounded by a world of performing artists. I felt like I was meant to be there. I can't tell you what they played, but I just remember how happy they were, and how happy they made me feel.
Even now, if I still myself, close my eyes, and take a deep breath I can smell the food and hear the commotion. And flowers. I remember a lot of brightly colored flowers. Looking back now, it's probably why I fell in love with NYC. Of course I still have to get over my fear of driving in NYC, but I blame Pops for that one. He decided on our way home we should make a pit stop in NYC and somehow decided that it was a brilliant idea to put me behind the wheel of the friggin van on the expressway. I don't know which one. All I remember is almost tipping the frakkin thing over because I was taking an off ramp way too fast. Why? Because I was scared shitless that's why. Genius Pops. Friggin genius.
After that fiasco, and on the way back home I remember making the decision that I HAD to go back. Couldn't get it out of my head. I fell for a boy from the city and his city made me fall in love with the arts again. I decided that fall that I was going to go to The Boston Conservatory and major in dance and minor in music.
That dream didn't happen though. That's a different story. Perhaps another time...
Monday, July 4, 2011
What Two Fights in Twenty Years Taught Me...
I spent my day today in various stages of boredom. Read for a while, then floated around in the pool for a while. Took a shower. Watched When In Rome again. Popped onto Twitter for a bit. Ate a couple of slices of pizza. Listened to my parents argue and watched as my Mom put a few things in her car and leave. My strong, outgoing, lives by her own rules Mom had finally had enough of the man who was constantly trying to get her to live by his.
As I was floating in the pool, I reminded myself of the one person that has been a constant presence in my life. Even though we had lost touch for 15 years, she was always with me. It also brought to mind, that in the 20+ years we've known each other we have only been in 2 fights. They were both in this last year, and they both lasted less than 15 minutes before they were over and done. lol
Here is the story of those two fights.
Fight #1.......Downtown Chicago.....last year for Rock the Block 2....
Mel and I were in Chicago last year for Rock the Block 2. We were downtown with our friends Tracy and Dawn L and I had just finished taking a huge step in facing my fear of heights. I'm still terrified of being high up in open spaces but my indoor fear is conquered. Go me! We were down in the gift shop of the building formerly known as the Sears tower. I had made the mistake of not letting my bank know that I was going to be out of town and consequently had been having problems using my bank card all weekend. I don't use credit cards and who the hell carries cash anymore?
I had picked out a couple of things for my kids, went to pay and it wouldn't take my card. Which was weird since I had just bought my ticket to the skydeck upstairs. Whatever. I decided to leave the trinkets for my kids, when Mel decides to get them for me. I have a slight issue with feeling like a charity case. Of course that was just in my head, but I'm a stubborn one. I immediately began protesting when she shoves the bag at me and says, "You are not going home without gifts for those kids, now just take the fuckin bag and be happy about it."
I snapped. In my head, I heard my ex barking orders at me. I turned around and said, "Don't ever fuckin tell me what to do. Ever." Then I turned around and stormed out of the store with tears streaming down my face and began pacing the sidewalk. Not only did I just stun my best friend, but I'm pretty sure Tracy and Dawn L. were quite taken aback as well. Not a good moment for a bad memory to sneak up and bite me in the ass. Ten deep breaths later and I went to her, put my arms around her and told her exactly what was going through my mind the second I snapped at her. We stood there on the sidewalk, in the middle of downtown Chicago, each of us crying, and we hugged it out. That was it. Fight over.
Fight number 2.......NKOTB Cruise 2011...The Libido deck.....Pink Night.
Mel and I were up in VIP. That wasn't said to brag. I don't do that shit. I say it, for those that were on the boat to picture where we were when the fight occured. At the beginning of the the festivities I was making a valiant effort to get close to one of the railings in order to see what was going on. She decided to fall back, fighting her claustrophobia. I stood, looking through people's heads at nothing. Literally, nothing. All of a sudden this really freakin hot guy passes in front of me. I kinda sorta froze. Avoiding eye contact and trying to catch my breath. Seriously if you could've seen this guy. Made my heart stop. I could feel him look at me as he stopped to talk to a few people as he passed through. Dude probably thought I was ignoring him. He would have thought wrong of course, but how was he to know. It's totally fine, cause apparently I had another chance to see him a few minutes later. I had just discovered that one of my dearest friends, was also up in VIP and when I saw her, I called out, "Jenn! Where the fuck you goin?!" I then walked over to her and squeezed the shit out of her.
Of course, it was later when Mel told me that the fine man that had passed me mere moments ago, was comin right at me and I walked right by him to get to Jenn. I had NO clue. Oblivious. Again, the dude probably thought I was blowin him off. Nope, I was just blind. Sad sorry state of affairs. *heavy sigh* I lost track of him after that.
Anyway, I'm getting off topic. Mel and I ended up sitting back in the same spot we had the night before. We had fun people watching, especially the people who were on the boat docked next to ours. The night got rougher the more people had to drink. The more they got drunk, the stupider they got and the more my patience wore thin. At one point Mel got up to go talk to a friend. A long overdue conversation that I am SO happy she got to have. I sat for a while alone, and then made my way downstairs to the bathroom. I think Donnie and Jordan were down on the platforms entertaining the masses, but I can't remember. I was too focused on not falling down the stairs.
I came back up. There was someone behind me and someone else I knew behind her. The person directly behind me decided to stop at the top of the stairs and block traffic nearly knocking the person I knew back down the stairs. At this point my shoulders were tight and my claws were out. I asked the girl to move so others could get up the stairs and her drunk ass lurched forward spilling her drink on my shoe and then dug the heel of her shoe onto my foot as she pivoted around to find a better spot, shooting me a dirty look as if I was commiting a crime by trying to create a safe passage for people to get back up the friggin stairs.
I found Mel back at our spot talking to our now favorite Rose Tours security guy. I was frustrated about what just happened and simply said that I wanted to throat punch a chick and chuck her overboard. Our new friend told me to settle down and before I could even tell them what had happend, Mel hands me my sail and sign card and says, "Here. I gotta go. You're crabby and I need some air." I looked at her, ex in my head and snapped. "I'm not fuckin crabby! Some drunk ass chick just spilled her drink on me, stepped on my foot and almost knocked someone down the stairs!"
Mel shoots back, "I gotta go." She then turns on her heel and walks away. So I'm left standing there going, "What the fuck just happened?" I ended up talking to Jon's body guard, Todd, for a bit, who said I'd been walking around like a wet tiger for the last thirty minutes, and said I needed some "tea and crampets". The dude made me laugh. Claws retracted. Mel came back upstairs, I immediately wrapped my arms around her and apologized for my behavior. Told her how frustrated I had been, and that me snapping at her had more to do with me being "told" how I was feeling. We stood there and hugged it out. Fight over.
I'd say 2 fights in over 20 years is pretty frakkin good. I have discovered that the trigger for me to snap, is someone telling me how I feel or telling me what to do. Today's meditation while floating in the pool, brought these memories back for a reason. It made me realize that someone else who is important to me, has the same triggers. I'm learning kids. The day you stop is the well, never.
As I was floating in the pool, I reminded myself of the one person that has been a constant presence in my life. Even though we had lost touch for 15 years, she was always with me. It also brought to mind, that in the 20+ years we've known each other we have only been in 2 fights. They were both in this last year, and they both lasted less than 15 minutes before they were over and done. lol
Here is the story of those two fights.
Fight #1.......Downtown Chicago.....last year for Rock the Block 2....
Mel and I were in Chicago last year for Rock the Block 2. We were downtown with our friends Tracy and Dawn L and I had just finished taking a huge step in facing my fear of heights. I'm still terrified of being high up in open spaces but my indoor fear is conquered. Go me! We were down in the gift shop of the building formerly known as the Sears tower. I had made the mistake of not letting my bank know that I was going to be out of town and consequently had been having problems using my bank card all weekend. I don't use credit cards and who the hell carries cash anymore?
I had picked out a couple of things for my kids, went to pay and it wouldn't take my card. Which was weird since I had just bought my ticket to the skydeck upstairs. Whatever. I decided to leave the trinkets for my kids, when Mel decides to get them for me. I have a slight issue with feeling like a charity case. Of course that was just in my head, but I'm a stubborn one. I immediately began protesting when she shoves the bag at me and says, "You are not going home without gifts for those kids, now just take the fuckin bag and be happy about it."
I snapped. In my head, I heard my ex barking orders at me. I turned around and said, "Don't ever fuckin tell me what to do. Ever." Then I turned around and stormed out of the store with tears streaming down my face and began pacing the sidewalk. Not only did I just stun my best friend, but I'm pretty sure Tracy and Dawn L. were quite taken aback as well. Not a good moment for a bad memory to sneak up and bite me in the ass. Ten deep breaths later and I went to her, put my arms around her and told her exactly what was going through my mind the second I snapped at her. We stood there on the sidewalk, in the middle of downtown Chicago, each of us crying, and we hugged it out. That was it. Fight over.
Fight number 2.......NKOTB Cruise 2011...The Libido deck.....Pink Night.
Mel and I were up in VIP. That wasn't said to brag. I don't do that shit. I say it, for those that were on the boat to picture where we were when the fight occured. At the beginning of the the festivities I was making a valiant effort to get close to one of the railings in order to see what was going on. She decided to fall back, fighting her claustrophobia. I stood, looking through people's heads at nothing. Literally, nothing. All of a sudden this really freakin hot guy passes in front of me. I kinda sorta froze. Avoiding eye contact and trying to catch my breath. Seriously if you could've seen this guy. Made my heart stop. I could feel him look at me as he stopped to talk to a few people as he passed through. Dude probably thought I was ignoring him. He would have thought wrong of course, but how was he to know. It's totally fine, cause apparently I had another chance to see him a few minutes later. I had just discovered that one of my dearest friends, was also up in VIP and when I saw her, I called out, "Jenn! Where the fuck you goin?!" I then walked over to her and squeezed the shit out of her.
Of course, it was later when Mel told me that the fine man that had passed me mere moments ago, was comin right at me and I walked right by him to get to Jenn. I had NO clue. Oblivious. Again, the dude probably thought I was blowin him off. Nope, I was just blind. Sad sorry state of affairs. *heavy sigh* I lost track of him after that.
Anyway, I'm getting off topic. Mel and I ended up sitting back in the same spot we had the night before. We had fun people watching, especially the people who were on the boat docked next to ours. The night got rougher the more people had to drink. The more they got drunk, the stupider they got and the more my patience wore thin. At one point Mel got up to go talk to a friend. A long overdue conversation that I am SO happy she got to have. I sat for a while alone, and then made my way downstairs to the bathroom. I think Donnie and Jordan were down on the platforms entertaining the masses, but I can't remember. I was too focused on not falling down the stairs.
I came back up. There was someone behind me and someone else I knew behind her. The person directly behind me decided to stop at the top of the stairs and block traffic nearly knocking the person I knew back down the stairs. At this point my shoulders were tight and my claws were out. I asked the girl to move so others could get up the stairs and her drunk ass lurched forward spilling her drink on my shoe and then dug the heel of her shoe onto my foot as she pivoted around to find a better spot, shooting me a dirty look as if I was commiting a crime by trying to create a safe passage for people to get back up the friggin stairs.
I found Mel back at our spot talking to our now favorite Rose Tours security guy. I was frustrated about what just happened and simply said that I wanted to throat punch a chick and chuck her overboard. Our new friend told me to settle down and before I could even tell them what had happend, Mel hands me my sail and sign card and says, "Here. I gotta go. You're crabby and I need some air." I looked at her, ex in my head and snapped. "I'm not fuckin crabby! Some drunk ass chick just spilled her drink on me, stepped on my foot and almost knocked someone down the stairs!"
Mel shoots back, "I gotta go." She then turns on her heel and walks away. So I'm left standing there going, "What the fuck just happened?" I ended up talking to Jon's body guard, Todd, for a bit, who said I'd been walking around like a wet tiger for the last thirty minutes, and said I needed some "tea and crampets". The dude made me laugh. Claws retracted. Mel came back upstairs, I immediately wrapped my arms around her and apologized for my behavior. Told her how frustrated I had been, and that me snapping at her had more to do with me being "told" how I was feeling. We stood there and hugged it out. Fight over.
I'd say 2 fights in over 20 years is pretty frakkin good. I have discovered that the trigger for me to snap, is someone telling me how I feel or telling me what to do. Today's meditation while floating in the pool, brought these memories back for a reason. It made me realize that someone else who is important to me, has the same triggers. I'm learning kids. The day you stop is the well, never.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Finding Myself in the Sanctity of Patience...
Sitting on my deck last Monday morning, drinking coffee with my best friend and my Mom, I got punched in the face, In a good way. With the realization, that no matter what I do, or say, or how good my intentions are, or where my heart is...to some, it will never be good enough. To others, the people who are near me, people who know me, and know my heart.....they will love me regardless of my flaws. Through all of my insecurities, no matter how much I drive them crazy at times. Yes, even my clumsiness over words (*coughcoughmyinabilitytotypecough*). They are more than happy to "Gibb's Slap" me when I start to doubt myself, and I let them get away with it, because I know their hearts. After watching me struggle for so long, they just want what's best for me. I can't fault them for that. I decided to start this daily blog, because after the conversation over coffee, Mel reminded me of something. I have been so caught up and drawn in by nonsense and negativity that I was losing my light. I could feel it. Trust me when I tell you others felt it too. That’s not me.
So, I did what I do best. I internalized. I shut down. I went into my head, and walked away from Twitter. As wonderful and thankful as I am to have that ability to connect so quickly with those who are far away, it was also becoming a negative place for me. If you notice I’m not on as much anymore. My walls are back up, and they will be. I’ll open up in here, but only because I know it will not be read by most. It’s safe here. Oh sure, I could say something in here that someone could perceive one way, and yet another person could a whole other. Isn’t that the way written words work? Without hearing the inflection in someone’s voice or seeing their body language, or to be able to look someone in the eyes, makes it all open to interpretation. In a world of tweeting and texting and emailing, so much can get lost.
I digress. The other thing Mel reminded me of, was that I’m more than a performing artist. I’m also a writer *insert sarcastic comment of your choice here*. She’s the only one that knows I have an unfinished book I started writing a few years ago that is now collecting dust. It’s a murder mystery. She suggested that I start writing again, even if it’s a paragraph a day. Would you believe part of why I haven’t is because she’s a writer as well? I wanted her to have that. She’s the writer, I’m the performer. That’s kind of the way it was. I realize now that’s ridiculous. I’m more than that. Just as she is as well.
My world isn't black and white. I don't draw lines, and I don’t live by rules. I used to do that. I used to live a structured life, filled with rules and control. Would you believe I used to iron everything? Not sheets or underwear- not much material in a thong you know- but every outfit. And not just mine, my kids’ outfits too. There used to be a time when it was unacceptable in my life to have a wrinkled shirt. The remote always had to be where I left it, or I’d throw a fit. If you took something out of the kitchen cabinets, you’d have to make sure not to leave them open or again, I’d throw a fit. That was a life I walked away from. (OK, I still don’t like cabinet doors left open. Hey! YOU run into an open one in the middle of the night and see how much you like it). Finally. It wasn’t easy. Ending relationships never are. But it took me three tries until I finally felt that not only was I strong enough, but I had given everything I could. And by everything, I mean, I gave what I thought was what I should, and stifled everything that I am.
The divorce was final in December and I have been walking on foal legs ever since. Gung ho to attack my new life the way water explodes out of a fire hydrant on a hot summer day. With no real direction, no real focus, just happy to be free. I threw myself into work. Working 3 jobs, and finally thinning them down to 1. It was a long cold winter my friends. Have you ever thrown papes? Let me tell you what, I’m a sexy chick in Carhartt. My twitter friends spent many early morning hours keeping me company while I froze my ass off so, people could get their morning news on time. Delivering papers, in the winter is not easy, and the pay sucks, but I did it because it was a necessity. Not only to add a little extra income, but now that I look back, to avoid going home to an empty bed. Even if the other person in it was toxic, spending 15 years of your life with someone creates a sense of security. No matter how false it may be.
To be on your own after a failed marriage is tough. It means learning to forgive yourself for the failure you feel, and in time to forgive the other person. I’m not there. It’s even harder when you were in a mentally and emotionally abusive marriage and that person also has anger issues. He’s had a girlfriend for a while now and they are moving in together this week. I’m glad he’s found someone to make him happy, and as long as she’s good to my kids, that’s all I can ask for.
I’m finding my legs again. I need to be me for a while. To find what makes me happy. To do what’s best for me. I thought I was on the right track. I was wrong. Not the first time, won’t be the last. I’m not a rebound kind of girl. What could I possibly gain by diving into another relationship without fully leaving the other in the past where it belongs? Those who are able to do that, and be successful at it, are lucky. I envy that.
I refuse to be in another relationship that does not allow me to be me. I may never find it, and that’s okay. Because as long I can finally learn to love me, well then, that’s a greater victory than I could hope for. The idea of loving again and being loved-truly, madly, deeply loved-for just being me? Flaws, failures and all, terrifies me. I’m tired of getting hurt. So as the saying goes I don’t have walls up to keep people out, but rather to see who is brave enough to climb over them.
I will wait. He’s out there. The one who will build me up and not tear me down. Someone who wants me to succeed, and wants my dreams to come true just as much as I want his. Someone who believes in me, as I believe in him. Who is proud to be with me, who will dance in the rain with me, who will make me laugh ‘til I can’t breathe, and then take my breath away with one kiss. Someone who will look at me every day as if he’s just one a million bucks, and wants to stare at me forever.
I will wait.
I do miss sex though. #justsayin
P.s.- Dear God, If he could look like Josh Duhamel, well that would just be icing on the cake now wouldn't it? Love, Me. Hey if I'm dreaming , might as well dream big!
Let's Go for a Walk....
Hi.
This is the beginning of a post every day, for 365 days. Perhaps, even beyond that. Time will tell. Every post will be my thoughts, and my feelings. I have made so many beautiful long lasting friendships through this entire whirlwind of a reunion and they are friendships that are scattered EVERYWHERE. I cannot spend the time in person with everyone that I would like, so hopefully, through these posts, (*sings* ....as time goes....by....)you will get to know me a little more better....every day.
Today, I will kick off this journey, with two posts. I will try to post them by midnight every day, but I'm a night owl, so, I make no guarantees. They are really for myself, to get down on paper a part of me. The good and the bad. I've never blogged daily before, so this is new for me. I've just chosen to put my "journal" out in the open. They won't always be serious entries. That, I can assure you. But whatever I write, whether grammatically correct or not, will be real, and from my heart. As I have said many times before-really as just a reminder to myself more than anything- I work better from there.
So...if you would like to get to know me, or escape for a little while out of whatever craziness is going on in your world, you don't need to say a thing. If you want to talk, I'm happy to listen. If you're willing to listen, I'm willing to talk.....but we can just go in silence too....step by step......side by side.....let's go for a walk....
Ann Marie~
This is the beginning of a post every day, for 365 days. Perhaps, even beyond that. Time will tell. Every post will be my thoughts, and my feelings. I have made so many beautiful long lasting friendships through this entire whirlwind of a reunion and they are friendships that are scattered EVERYWHERE. I cannot spend the time in person with everyone that I would like, so hopefully, through these posts, (*sings* ....as time goes....by....)you will get to know me a little more better....every day.
Today, I will kick off this journey, with two posts. I will try to post them by midnight every day, but I'm a night owl, so, I make no guarantees. They are really for myself, to get down on paper a part of me. The good and the bad. I've never blogged daily before, so this is new for me. I've just chosen to put my "journal" out in the open. They won't always be serious entries. That, I can assure you. But whatever I write, whether grammatically correct or not, will be real, and from my heart. As I have said many times before-really as just a reminder to myself more than anything- I work better from there.
So...if you would like to get to know me, or escape for a little while out of whatever craziness is going on in your world, you don't need to say a thing. If you want to talk, I'm happy to listen. If you're willing to listen, I'm willing to talk.....but we can just go in silence too....step by step......side by side.....let's go for a walk....
Ann Marie~
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