So Special

I'm surprised at how special we all think we are.  I should correct that and add how special we think we are.  I'm sure someone will read this and put their hands on their hips and insist that we are all special.  Special in our own way.  Special in God's eyes.  Special to someone.  Whatever.

I can see the look on someone's face that has convinced themselves they are just that special.  Special enough to be waited on at the restaurant.  Special enough to have someone help you to your car with your groceries.  Special enough to know the owner.  Special enough to be the first in line.  Special enough to make someone wait.  Special enough to insist on having his way.  Special enough that God bestows that one perfect miracle on you for that special, special, day . . .

If no one guessed it, I don't feel very special these days.  I've been dealing with what to do with not feeling special.  Feeling like the one in a half-a-million.  Recognizing that I will never get the plaque, the trophy, the ribbon, or even the thumbs up.  First place is not a common occurrence for me and most assuredly, my name will not be called from a podium for dedicated service.  I will not be an "of the year" to any organization or group.  I will probably not be a role model or be asked to "grant" an interview.

I'm just me.  I think I'm OK with it.

Where to Begin? #4 Getting to Know Me

The last two weeks were pretty traumatic.  It was my parent's 50th wedding anniversary and a family reunion of sorts was scheduled for the following day.  My mom expected 75 people to be at the event.  I was very nervous about seeing people I hadn't seen in as much as 35 years.  People that knew me in another time.  I had no desire to return to this time in my life, but it seemed like it was bearing down on me faster than I was prepared.

I woke up the morning of the party aggitated.  Luckily, my husband just left me alone and let me get ready.  I wore a dress I didn't plan on wearing--another subject--and stuffed myself in a body shaper in hopes of hiding the extra 75 pounds I was carrying.  I let my hair curl and wore matching sandals.  I felt old, fat and ugly.

The upside of all this is only 43 people showed and none of them were "old friends" from my past.  My favorite aunt and uncle were there with my cousin.  We spent both days hanging around with them.

The irony of the very arduous day is that my mom said she didn't enjoy feeling like she was on display and this whole weekend was her idea!  Whatever.

Mental Messages: That Bloated Feeling

This morning I weighed a disappointing 205.4 pounds.  The only reason I'm not any more than disappointed is I think it will go back down.  I take an anti-inflammatory for asundry reproductive organ issues about 24 - 48 hours before I start my period and strive to get a good dosage coursing through my veins by the time the pain hits.  It bloats me so much I can feel it in my eyes, hands and feet.  Worse yet to my psyche, I can see it in the mirror.  My face fills up like a gourd.  My skin tightens.  It's pretty traumatic. 

The weight gain normally amounts to  five to seven pounds.  I try to keep it in perspective when I get on the scale and see it creeping up in the days and hours before it gets here, but it's tough every time.  This time, with school and the stress of other family issues looming over my head, it was especially rough on my ego to see the 205.4 flash below me.  I've kept a constant glass of water by side and ate fresh ice cold watermelon today that was really a nice treat. 

It will pass and I will soon be back to my self again.  Feeling strong of mind, body and spirit, but for now it's a battle not to just curl up in the fetal position under the covers.

I Am Really Grouchy This Morning

Wow, I am crabby.  I'm tired.  I'm back in the phase of not sleeping well and haven't been able to shake this headache  Our cats were out of food yesterday.  I should have made time to go up to the store to pick some up, but my mom called before I left to go to a rehearsal and told me some desparing new about my dad so instead of stopping at the store for cat food, I drove home on the phone talking to her.  I know she must feel frustrated, but this is what life is.  Like it or not, ready or not.

There's also no coffee beans.  This whole idea off running out of things isn't usually that big of a deal except that my family is spoilt.  They know that we won't be out for long, mom will go pick some up.  Whatever "some" happens to be.  I'm a sucker and I don't know how to fix it.

Oh, I hate feeling like this.

The Winter of Our Discontent: Overdrawn Accounts and Burger King Whoppers

I haven't had opportunity to look at the account closely, but we somehow managed to overdraw our account by $287.  I remember when that happened to us the first time.  I thought I was going to die.  I was so embarassed, I cried and cried.  Then I was angry and blamed it on everything and everyone.  My husband got an advance on his paycheck which meant the company he worked for knew what we'd done.  I was truly mortified.

The truth is, money is a tough thing.  I can watch it like a hawk for weeks and months at a time and even though I know I shouldn't, as soon as I let my guard down and decide to breath a little, this happens--every time.  I imagine some time today, I'll have to toughen up and look at the account to see where we went wrong.  We'll have to tighten up again.  I don't know how.  We haven't been out  in I don't know how long.  The most deviant thing we've done is Burger King.  We have a school booster card that we can get a free Whopper with the purchase of a Whopper.  We buy a triple Whopper, get the second whopper free and share the spare patty.  We share a drink and a fry.  Pretty ingenious, I'd say.

Well, before I get into my day, I better go see why we are overdrawn.  I quickly peeked to be sure it wasn't a crime being committed, it wasn't.  It was just us, thinking we could actually live like regular human beings.  I just don't know where else to cut back.

Mental Messages: What Do I Want?

I'm not a difficult person.  I'm pretty easy to please.  I want a man by my side.  Let me rephrase that, a real man.  Enough money to take a decent vacation once a year that doesn't involve the words family or in-laws and to save for retirement.  I'd like a nice home and a nice car.  I'd like to go out on my sailboat a few times a month.

#1.  I want a man by my side.

Men wear this question out.  "What do women want?"  Men get hung up on what women want because they can't (or don't want to) be what we want.  We want men to be men.  Now, don't get me wrong, there are some women out there that are just plain out there.  I wouldn't give them two minutes to screw with my head and men shouldn't either.  But in average terms, I think women just want men to be men.  Not physical men, a man.  When you don't deliver, we feel stupid, ashamed or even embarassed for thinking that men might want to be men.

Don't lie to, tease, disrespect, shame, humiliate, embarass, ignore, talk down to, devalue, disappoint or forget about me.  Because of my nature and you are a physical man, my husband or my boyfriend,  I already chose you! I will instinctively think you are strong, confident, wonderful, brave, sexy, smart, good-looking and the apple of everyone's eye.  You are a man, correct?  Wouldn't you love for a woman to think those things about you and have her be right?  Just don't prove me wrong.  So, maybe you are thinking, Wow, that is a tall order.  I don't think it is.  I really don't think it is.  As long as I already think those things, all you have to do is follow through with your part.

You see, none of the things on those list require any extra time, money or should present a challenge to you.  I'm sure you noticed I didn't put in that you have to talk to me.  I've got girlfriends for that.  Besides, you seldom understand where I'm coming from anyway.  All they should represent are you treating me (as your wife or girlfriend) like I am number one in your life.  Like I am a person to be cherished and considered.  If you don't feel that way, then you don't love me and you should move on and I'll get over it.

No dragons to slay here,  not even a lick of rocket science, just good old fashioned respect and honor for someone who instinctively respects and honors you.

Not a Social Diva

It's been a long time since I met someone new in a social setting.  In entertainment, I meet people I don't know all the time.  It's not the same thing.  This woman--let's call her Lily--was all those girly things I'm not.  She had cute little shoes, cute little jeans, a cute little sweater, a cute little haircut and without a stitch of make up, she was cute.  She was a little bossy and a bit of a know it all, but best I could tell she wasn't saying anything that wasn't true. 

Lily seemed to know.  She was a fount of knowledge.  Whatever the discussion, she had an anecdote or personal experience.  I wasn't sure I didn't like her or I didn't like her talking for an hour straight.  She seemed to be an authority on everything.  When she left, she said that she was pleased to get to know me, that she could see we had a lot in common.

In common?  I didn't see it.  I mean, I don't kow.  Not wanting to give her the impression we were the best of buddies from this day forward, I told her it was nice to meet her.  I'm sure I would see her around.  Lily was one of those ladies that was like other ladies.  She preferred the company of other chatty women talking about women things like little girls, purses and crafts.  If I'm not in entertainer mode, I'm awkward, shy, almost stutter and never know how much to say so I probably don't say enough.

I've had a facebook account for over a year now.  I have 16 friends.  Total.  16.  Yep.  I had a few invitations when I first created my account from people I couldn't remember or people I wished I couldn't remember.  I just didn't connect with them.  I have not sent one friends request.  I figure if people want to know me or remember me, I'm right there, so as somewhat of a social experiment, I have purposefully chosen not to instigate friendship.

Meeting Lily was interesting in that it has been a very long time since I met someone I might actually see again after today.  I was nervous.  I wanted to take it slow, but she jumped in and endlessly chatted.  I mostly listened.

Get A Job

I was asked a little while ago when the last time was I had a "real" job.  I assumed by real, he meant the regular nine to fiver with the hateful boss and slacker secretaries.  I had to think about it.  I'm a musician.  Only a handful of people in my life recognize that as what I do, but yes, I'm a musician.  I've performed professionally since I was in high school.  I sang for money at my first wedding when I was a sophomore.  I sang that Eddie Rabbit/Crystal Gayle song, "Just You and I" (which is a little humorous because it's a duet and it was just me with a Lowrey Organ--could it be anymore cheesy?)  I also sang the Lord's Prayer.  I was too young to understand the significance of this song.  Both songs were pretty bad in retrospect, but I'd had a taste of  "singing for my supper".  To this day, I don't remember how much the bride paid me.  It probably didn't even cover my gas.  But I do remember thinking to myself:  "I can get paid to do this?"

Back in those days, fame seemed more attainable.  Like I could actually sing my way--in weddings--to stardom.  Chuckle.  However, as the years rolled by and I messed up my life even more, music went farther away than the back burner.  I still sang and played, but making sense of the what was happening to me became more important.  I never did lose that strange desire to entertain people.  I've come back to it in the last 20 years.  Don't make the star cash I'd hoped for when I was 16, but it's fun and people like to hear me play and sing.  Ah well.  Maybe one day I'll get a job.   

Studio

I've been bitten by the "my-own-studio" bug.  I suppose it doesn't help that my friend has a lovely bungalow style poolside studio where she conducts card making classes.  The pool is enclosed, so she opens those massive french doors right onto the deck of the pool.  Who couldn't create beautiful cards in that environmnent?

For 20 years this passed October, I've taught private music lessons out of a room in whatever home we were living in at the time.  I never could wrap my lips around the word studio.  Somewhere in the two decades it became a "Teaching Room".  Sounds like something a three year old might come up with.  My third teaching room is a horribly stuffy room at the end of the house.  I've never measured.  I'm certain it is less than 10 X 10.  With a piano, a desk, two bookshelves, sound equipment, music stands and piles and piles of music, it is hardly what I would have dreamed for myself had I ever actually made any money teaching music.  I dreamed of colors like parchment, butterscotch, pewter and black.

But now, here I am, almost after the fact dreaming again of a studio and certain it is thanks to my lovely dear friend with the bungalow studio off her pool.

It Feels Like We've Been Friends Forever

Last night I was supposed to be working on homework, instead I stayed up until 2:00 in the morning "tweaking" the appearance of my new blog.  I signed up for adsense, edited my entry--again--and thought about what topics I could pursue on different days of the week.

I decided I wanted my blog to feel personal and real.  I wanted readers to get to know me.  The real me.  The moody perfectionist with a dry sense of humor that never quite gets what she wants, so grows a little more cynical with each passing year.  I wanted all that and to keep it short.  I never wanted my readers to open up my blog on a busy Wednesday morning and think, "I don't have time to read all that."  Kind of the way I know you've felt when you get an e-mail or text from that especially wordy friend, gaze at the first few lines and close it for later and later never comes.

So for now, I've chosen some daily topics to keep my creative juices flowing in the right direction.  I imagine as I get into the rhythm of what I expect out of blogging, I'll adopt a schedule and topics that work for me.  Besides, you already know me better than some people that have known me all my life.

Navel Gazing

The last thing I wanted this adventure to be was entry after entry of navel gazing.  Besides, wasn't the whole world waiting to hear my wonderful pearls of wisdom?  What had I learned in my last 45 years that I would take into my next?  I will tell you I am a 45 year old woman married 23 years.  I get sad, I get disappointed and I get lonely.  I want more out of my life, but I have no idea where to begin.  I decided to go back to college about a year and a half ago and now I'm convinced it was the dumbest and most expensive thing I've ever done but I continue because I'm too embarrassed to quit yet another venture.  I have some of the best friends the world could offer.  I'm in the middle of a ridiculous fitness regime in hopes of being comfortable wearing a sundress to my niece's graduation in June.  I love to sew retro clothing, bead and cook using regional recipes.  At the moment, my kitchen table is covered with junk from an overstuffed craft closet because six days ago I was going to clean it out, but school started back up and I have to finish a sewing project for the local high schoo.  I would love to redo my  almost galley style kitchen and an adjoining room to be one big gourmet kitchen.  I own a catamaran, I have never sailed it, I'm so ashamed.  I tell people online, "I love to sail."  I have six rescued cats inside and three outside, my son's hedgehog and a very confused husband.  I hope you'll join me again as the weeks unfold and I learn about myself and perhaps with just a little navel gazing I can figure out what to make for dinner tomorrow night.