Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

It's amazing how fast your life changes when you're least expecting it. No, this isn't one of those sad entries about lost loved ones. This is about happiness and new beginnings and feeling reinvigorated for the first time in a very long time. I'm like Tova Borgnine with her fragrances -- excited and barely containing myself in a borderline-annoying fashion for those around me because there's so much to share!
First, a big move is coming up. I am Nashville bound in just a few more weeks (I think). I'm actually chuckling a little bit at that thought because I never thought I'd be saying, "I can't wait to move to Tennessee!" But guess what? Colorado is so 26 minutes ago and it's time to get this party freakshow circus on the road. I'm more than this little landlocked, dry state can contain. I need some culture that doesn't involve outdoor activity shoes, streets and streets of weed shops (although, whatever a person does on their own time is their business...it's still just weird to see) and the words, "Maybe we can get together at the park...throw the frisbee around." I mean, seriously, people, there are plenty of things to do INSIDE!
Next, I'm being given an extraordinary opportunity to start anew, if I want. And I want. I have the pleasure of being employed by an honestly GOOD and well-run company right now. I've gained tons of good experience, but it is time to move on. I think I make a much better "good little corporate wife" than I do a "good little corporate minion." This creative's wings are just dying to be spread. No regrets, just lessons learned and a fresh life ahead.
Also, some serious distance in my relationship right now (try three states) is just tough. It flat-out sux. I'd like to say that I'm using this time to remember who the old, uber-independent me was, but I'd be lying. In fact, I've been one big ball of stress who's trying to do everything by herself. And, frankly, I don't think my cat is all that interested in my stories anymore. He's like, "Enough, already! I just want a nap, some tuna water and a dirty Belvedere martini!" (My cat is very posh. His name is Frank Sinatra afterall.)
But I think the biggest and most exciting thing on the horizon for me is...my new closet. Ladies (and gentle-'mos), please take your seats because you're going to need them. My new closet...HAS A CLOSET! There. I gave you the best part first because I knew I wouldn't be able to hold it in until the end like a proper storyteller. So, I just gave you the climax of the whole tale. My characters reached their arcs, storylines have hit their peaks and we're on our way down again. But we still have a ways to go because this closet is badass. It used to be the fourth bedroom. The last owner converted it into a closet that has built-ins in the "bedroom" part and an actual closet since it used to be one. Yup. It's my Carrie Bradshaw closet. In fact, it's better than hers (minus several tens of thousands of dollars of Manolos and Cavalli pieces...well, I have ONE Cavalli.) because mine's going to have a chandelier, couch and table. I plan to take tea in there everyday at 3:30 in a big, chennile bathrobe (will somebody please get me one of thoses? It's kind of key to this plan...preferably pink, but I will also accept a cerulean blue.) and my pearls. (It is the South.) Anyway, it's going to be the most. It'll be my own sanctuary and my "man cave." (Boys, you can keep your pool and ping pong tables. Give me a full-length mirror and something that's shiny and I'll entertain myself all afternoon. It's almost more happiness than I could have ever fathomed at 30.
Yes, my needs are simple: just a room that's a closet with exquisite built-ins and a chance to finally re-hang my pink, snakeskin curtains. Uh-uh! Don't you judge until you've seen them. They're very chic, in that glamorously trashy kind of way.

So that's my life. Finally, my wish of almost seven years is being granted: to get out of this completely strange and foreign state where I've never exactly fit in. I've been begging for it ever since I returned for what was supposed to be a six-month stay. While those seven years have brought me good things, it's time to pick up my Stella wedges and move on to the next great thing where I'm going to do great things. I can just feel it.

2011 is about to become 2012's bitch

Big exhale. The year's about over. It's been a rather eventful one, as I may have mentioned a few times before. And it looks like 2012 might be on track to rival the events of 2011 on some levels. But more about that in a few days...
I'm pretty exhausted. In fact, tonight I'm really tired. Seemed like the day was going to be great this morning and I suppose it was (got to see some old friends and spend some time with some I get to see practically every day). But it's not ending all that well and I guess I'm reflecting on some of the things that I've learned over the past 12 months. So, in no particular order, here they are:

• Health is a gift. I jacked up my back and lived a few months in the body of an 87-year old woman. I did not like it. Also, I see how people could very easily get addicted to prescription painkillers. They're awesome...but it's not when you need them just to be barely functioning above the level of a creative person at a math competition -- so, not well. But they've pretty much been the only reason I wasn't flat on my back for a long period of time...which sounds a lot more fun than it is. TV gets old after awhile. (WHO SAID THAT??)
• There are certain things you say that you can't un-say. Never has that been more apparent to me than in marriage.
• Thirty really isn't bad. I don't know what all the dramatic "anti-30 campaign" fuss is about.
• I like stuff. But I like my mental serenity more. Money's nice, but a few killer vacations a year can't make up for the misery of feeling stifled. "SERENITY NOW!"
• Some people matter and some people don't. Before you go, "But EVERYONE has a purpose," hear me out. Yup. I'm sure the miserable woman I have in mind right now was put here to do something -- perhaps to create a lovely child or to be a supportive daughter to an ailing parent -- but she serves no purpose in my world. I don't think I'll spend any time in 2012 making room  in my existence for people who treat others poorly or who think it's okay to step on others to get what they want. Because guess what? It isn't. I know there is a lot I have yet to learn, but I know this much: you can get just as far in life by doing the right thing the right way as you can by doing things the nasty and condescending way. So I'm just not going to allow those kinds of people in my head anymore. Some people matter and some people don't.
• When in doubt, compassion out! Okay, that's just something I strung together, but I think that's a nice little way to think of things. A co-worker and outstanding human being (and, more importantly, a friend) shows me on a daily basis that being kind and asking about someone's day -- even if it's someone you typically find annoying -- is never a waste of time. So, following in the footsteps of his saying in favor of wearing sleeveless shirts when it's hot ("Sun's out, guns out!"), When in doubt, compassion out!
• Everyone's miserable. On some level, every single person deals with misery and those who say they don't should check their pants because they're probably on fire. It might be a health problem, a relationship problem, an addiction, feelings of isolation, a job they hate...there's always going to be something. So hug your pet; go for a run; get a smile out of your nephew; have a drink...talk it out. Whatever. We're all in the same boat. Honestly, that realization kind of sux.
• Being in a toxic environment can make you toxic. If people keep telling you that YOU ARE something that you're not, eventually you'll likely become that and not even realize it. It kind of sickens me that I've gotten as negative as I have, but there's a very short list of people to thank for that. I wonder if I have any postage stamps because I really should get on writing those thank yous.
• Men's brains function differently. It's not better. It's not worse. It just is. I have to stop expecting them to think the way I do. It will never happen.
• I'm a detail person. And I like to plan things. Life ain't gonna show up for my schedule. Shit.
• Maybe asking for help is okay. I know I don't mind when people ask it of me, so I shouldn't be so apprehensive to lean on the ones who've offered help.
• People can only love you if you let them. That's a big one.
• Stubbornness is almost never worth the effort...but I think I have a gold medal in it, so why quit now?
• Just because you don't like something it doesn't make it bad. Think about that. This could be tattoos, NASCAR, football...
• A partnership is never going to be equal. It's never going to be fair and 50/50, no matter how much you wish it would be or how hard you try. I probably shouldn't spend so much time trying to make it that way.
• There's a Justin Bieber singing toothbrush...just thought I'd share that.
• And just as it's mysteriously been able to do since I was in high school, Counting Crows' "A Long December" manages to pop on at just the most perfect, significant moments in my life. Love that song. Love the lyrics. I believe it.
• Finally...it's okay to let some people go. You should put in effort when it comes to relationships. You should let people know that you are there for them -- even if you don't know them all that well. But there's a time when it's okay to stop trying to hold on to something that isn't there anymore. Cut them loose and everybody can go live their own lives and be happy in circles that no longer intersect. It doesn't even have to be a sad thing. Just savor the times you had, open your hand and let them go. We don't all have to hold on to each other forever just to say someone was a good friend.

So let's start anew. Let's send 2011 to jail for the weekend and Scare it Straight into becoming a more functioning 2012. I've seen it work with sassy teenagers.

I'm not saying...I'm just saying!

Last Friday I spent the evening with George Clooney. Yup, that George Clooney. But before you grab your phone to ask me how I've witheld this information from you for a full week, don't get too excited, Jessie Spano. I was at the movies to find out whether "The Descendants" was worth the hype. It was. And though I'll do my best not to give away any plotlines that aren't already disclosed in the previews, I make no promises that a few minor surprises may not be revealed...but I'll try.
I feel like Stefon from Weekend Update right now, but "This movie has it all: big beach hats, Beau Bridges, an emotional arc, a couple of weed references and midgets in hula skirts." Okay, maybe I made up that last one, but it's really freaking good. The only problem is that I didn't quite know what I was in for when I settled in next to my hubby for a date-night movie. And by the end I was doing that really ugly I'm-crying-so-f'ing-hard---much-harder-than-anyone-else-in-the-theater---but-I'm-trying-not-to-show-it-so-my-face-is-all-contorted-and-I'm-trying-to-subtly-wipe-away-tears thing. I looked like Farrah from "Teen Mom." (Seriously. Google "Farrah Abraham ugly cry." You'll also get some Heidi Montag image gems in there. Bonus!) It wasn't pretty. Anyway, I think it was 74% that it was just seriously that good, 8% because I'm married now and watching stories about infidelity (revealed in previews!) affects me so very much more than it ever did before, and 18% because it occurred to me (for only the second time that day -- we're making progress!) that that day, December 9th, was the anniversary of the death of a beautiful soul and lovely friend of mine...no, not the one I previously wrote about. Unfortunately, this friend was taken by a drunk driver...
And it had been 10 years.
10 whole years. Damn. It still feels like yesterday -- I mean, I can remember exactly what I was wearing, who was in the car I shared to her parents' house the next morning, crying until my entire face literally ached for days, calling my mom and barely being able to get words out...living by myself that year and being so unable to handle any human interaction for so long after that. Man. I tear up now, just thinking about it.
So, yeah. The movie made me cry, even though it had nothing to do with drunk driving, nor were there any characters named Andrea. I did my best to hold it together until the last frames, when we navigated the exit, the parking garage and were safely sealed in my little Civic. Then the radio transitioned songs and David Gray's "Please Forgive Me if I Act a Little Strange" came on. And I lost it. Since I have yet to share the ghost stories I once promised to divulge, that means nothing to you. But it was significant. It was perfect and tragic and eery all at the same time. At once I was crying and laughing simultaneously. Sean looked at me and said, with a half-worried smile, "You okay?" And I somehow got out, "Yeah. Yeah I am. I know you don't believe in any of this and that you think I'm crazy, but I swear she's here right now. I swear it...and she's telling me that I've got to let this go. I have to let this go. I need to be celebrating her life, not marking how she died...it's time to move on." And I realized I remember December 9th every year, but I don't even know when her birthday is. Andrea was that birthday, not the sad fate that befell her in December. Shame on me for getting it wrong for all these years.
And that night when I peeled back the covers to get in bed, something caught the light and my eye.
"What's this?" I asked Sean, holding up a small gold foil heart that people often enclose in birthday cards.
He shook his head. "I don't know. That looks like it's more your department than mine."
I just smiled, shook my head a bit and tucked it safely in the eyeglass case perched on the windowsill above my bed.
Who knows?



And every time I feel like she's a million miles away, I have a beautiful tribute CD that another extraordinary soul made for me right after our loss. And, even though I have no idea if she ever even liked any of these songs, it reminds me that she's not so far away that she can't reach down every now and again and remind me that I'm living for two of us some days. So don't forget that.



And then I remember that all of this comfort is something I'm giving myself. But, hey...what's the harm in that?

A disturbing realization

They say that video killed the radio star. Well, as I'm sitting in my living room, listening to music and wrapping gifts, I realized what my "radio" is: TV. Every time I wake up on the weekends and feel like I'm just bursting with creative energy, I make a mental list of all the things I'm going to do that day (get out the sewing machine and finally make that baby blanket for my friend's kid...who's now 2. Or play that piano I insisted I HAD to have, but have only played maybe a dozen times...). And you know what actually happens? I watch TV. Or I watch a movie. On my TV. And I don't even think I realized how much it was hurting me on the inside. Since I definitely don't get to be creative at my job, it's up to me to pursue those interests outside of work hours. But I'm so drained from my dead soul that I just watch TV and get ready to go through the exact same motions again the next day.
I'd like to say that I watch so much TV because I'm a pop culture whore who MUST keep up (just not with the Kartrashians...Jesus, enough already. It's like Kathy Griffin said, "Remember when Bruce Jenner was BRUCE fucking JENNER???"), but I think that's maybe only 50% truth.
So what am I going to do about it? Well, I might just challenge myself to a day of creativity where I can do whatever I want, as long as there is no TV (or computer streaming) involved. Maybe I'll actually go through with half that mental list of stuff and see how I feel.
...but if I do, can someone please tell me what happened on The Real Housewives???

My soul currently resembles the piece of coal I am bound to find in my stocking

Tonight I think I can actually hear a bottle of wine calling my name from two rooms away. My day started out cleaning up six (yes, six) piles of cat vomit and fighting back tears in my car for what was bound to be another very creative and FUN day of freedom! Unfortunately, I'm only serious about the tears and cat vomit.
I want to know when the whole world just gave up and boxed themselves in. I'm curious about when it was determined there was a "right" or "wrong" way to be creative. And I'm wondering when it became so hard for me to lean on people. My yapper flaps a lot, but I'm hardly ever really saying anything. God love the people who must endure it each day. Perhaps my Christmas present to them could be official sainthood? They've earned it.

And then there's a moment (as a friend pointed out to me today) when you realize you don't really know the people who sit around you at all -- at least not on a deeper level -- which is strange considering we spend so much of our lives sharing each others' space. And from there you can only see more layers of beauty and compassion and humanity from people whose kindness already impressed the hell out of you.

I guess I don't really have anything clever or funny to share with you tonight. This post is really just me trying to talk out what's troubling me right now. And to share with you a piece of another friend who's been by my side since I got home...somehow they always know what you need.
Now, if you'll excuse me, that "calling" has turned into yelling and I can no longer keep the Pinot waiting.

I-I don't want to buy anything from you.

I love you. Honestly, I think you're great. And I'm super thankful you're reading my blog, so please forgive me in advance because I'm about to tell you something you're not going to want to hear, but I can't contain it anymore. And I don't want to offend you, but...I don't want to buy anything from you. I want to hang out with you and I want to support your ventures, but I don't want to come to an awkward party at your house where I'm expected to buy something at the end and I feel poor if I don't. The stuff is probably cute, but also overpriced, even with the "special discount" everyone gets for coming to the party. I really do want to help you get free stuff, but not if it costs me $50.
Once more, I think you're really neat, but the worst thing you can do to your friends who know you're trying to make extra money is ask them to cough it up. If times are tight for you, they're probably tight for your buddies, too. And it makes things really weird.
So, tell me: can we keep our friendship strictly non-commercial or do you accept checks?

A dog-pile of things that are "the worst"

You can't see me, but I'm waving a white flag. I give and the only thing that's going to revive me is going to be a very stiff drink this evening.
Honestly, I'm so wrapped up in my own overwhelming life at the moment that I just don't have anything left to give to anyone else. Crappy quality in a friend? Yes. Reality, though? Also yes.
Since I feel like I'm required to announce the silver linings of all the dark clouds before the universe yanks the proverbial vintage Versace rug out from under me, here they are, in no particular order:
-great husband
-awesome family
-supportive friends
-off-the-charts cool pets
-DINK status

Okay, now that that paperwork's out of the way, here's what I really care about today: the suckiness of inconsiderate people. There's nothing worse than someone who overpromises and underdelivers. In fact, I've had just about enough of it from one particular individual and if I didn't think my husband would personally rip me a new one for saying so, I'd call this person directly and ask to borrow his ego for the day just to know what it feels like to be a complete cock.
And last night I heard a news story about someone STABBING A PUPPY and only getting probation. Probation! How could you ever feel you have the right to bring physical harm to another living being (newsflash: YOU DON'T), let alone a freaking puppy?!? And then he gets probation? UGH! Right now, our justice system seems all kindsa f'ed up. I'm not into this book of stories, but what happened to "an eye for an eye"?
And while we're on the subject, every time I see the scum of the earth (Vick) on the TV, I list all of the horrible, violent things I hope happen to him. I'm not a violent individual (though I will rock your planet like the asteroid in Armageddon with some seriously not-nice words), but if I met this person on the street, I'd have no problem turning that way. I can never forgive someone with that much evil in his heart. I guarantee you that people like him don't change. Don't be fooled by the smoke and mirrors of his PR people. I hope he loses his livelihood and a horrible, karma-like fate befalls him.

So maybe that tangent lends a little perspective to my own situation (which I wish I could elaborate on) and how even though it seems like we are totally not in control of our own lives and futures, we still are because we can always choose to say, "Sod 'em," and move on from the whole thing in a totally different direction.

While I'm in the moment, please do me a favor. Go see "Machine Gun Preacher," or at least visit the website: www.machinegunpreacher.org
I know it sounds like an obscure Quentin Tarrantino/Robert Rodriguez (and therefore terrible) film, but it's not. It's based on the life of a man named Sam Childers who gives a damn about people thousands of miles from wherever you are right now. I saw the film nearly a week ago and I haven't stopped thinking about it since. Chris Cornell's "The Keeper" punctuates the film beautifully and I'd recommend that download, even if you haven't seen the movie. Go to the website. Read his story; but more importantly, read the kids' stories. It will put things in an eery perspective for you.

So to recap: My head is totally Linda Blair-ing right now and the stress is pushing me over the edge. There's a special place in hell for puppy stabbers and Vick.
...and a "hillbilly from Pennsylvania is changing this world and proving that good deeds know no bounds.

As Donnie Wahlberg said on my New Kids on the Block bedsheets (that I still have), "Peace out on the strength." Yes, Donnie. Yes, indeed.


*Legal Disclaimer: my non-practicing attorney (me) has advised me to disclose that I actually have no plans to bring physical harm to anyone, no matter how much they absolutely deserve it.