I have a feeling I am going to regret my previous post.  That's a little too...raw.  A little too visible.  I may delete it later, or at least remove it from public view.

My friend has declared that this year is her year, and she is killing it.  She is strong and brave and motivated, and I envy her.  I am treading water, a bit fearful of...everything.  Change scares the holy crap out of me.  I am not an adventurous soul all of the time.  I am happy to go adventuring when I have a stable base from which to leave and return, but I don't seem to have that base at the moment.  I am the one who creates that base, so what is my problem?  Who is this fearful woman who has taken the place of the badass I used to be?  I don't like her.  I want the badass back.

"I love the person I've become, because I fought to become her."

When I look back at the past 15 years or so, I sometimes can't help but wonder where I went wrong with myself.  I mean, consider the fact that I didn't date in high school, I hardly dated in college, and I didn't date much after college, either.  There were guys interested in me off and on, and that remains the case, but the reality of it is, that interest rarely lasts for very long.  Why is that, I wonder?  Am I fundamentally flawed as a person?  So fundamentally flawed that no one wants to remain with me for an extended period of time? Now, when I am single again, it comes even more to the fore.  On paper, in theory, I am something desirable, something guys want, for a variety of reasons, I am discovering.  The past few months I have had adjectives applied to me that I don't recall having applied to me before.  Pretty, beautiful, gorgeous, sexy. When this is said to me, I feel like I should be looking over my shoulder to see who is standing behind me, that they might be talking to.  I am not used to being the pretty one.  I'm the wingman.  The character actress. The best friend of the lead.

Don't get me wrong, I am not fishing for compliments here.  I can look in the mirror, especially when I have makeup on, my hair done and the right clothes, and I can see that I am pretty.  I can see that there are things about me, my face, my hair, my body, that are attractive.  But, I look the same, more or less, as I always have.  There are an extra 20 lbs on my frame that weren't there last time, that I wish weren't there, but that just seems to add to the appeal, somehow. In fact, I discussed this once with a man I was seeing.  He mentioned something about it, and I said I didn't like it, the softness, the squishiness of my body.  And he said that it suits me.  The softness and the smoothness suits me.  I wonder how that is, because I don't feel like it does, really.  I feel like a firmness suits me better.  Tough and strong is what I want to be, not soft.

But, back to it.  In theory, yes, I can be appealing.  Pretty, curvy, red haired, intelligent, funny, strong willed, hard worker, honest.  All these things sound good, right?  And quite a few people seem to think so.  Until they actually have to live with it, spend time with it.  I am not stupid.  I know I am a pain in the ass, sometimes.  I know I can be difficult.  And then the perception starts to change.  An intelligent redhead sounds sexy.  Until she needs to be right most of the time.  A strong willed woman is appealing, until that strong will seems to be more stubbornness and an unbending attitude than anything good.  A hard worker is something everyone wants, until she demands the same hard work from you.  Then it gets annoying, and the payoff of those things no longer outweighs the demands they create.  The passion that everyone expects from a redhead becomes too much.  Too hot of a temper.  Too moody.  Too demanding.  Too....everything.

For a long time I tried to be less...to not be so much all of those things.  Not so overwhelming to the person I was with.  And then, after my marriage ended, I realized that that is what I was doing and that it maybe wasn't a good thing.  And so, I tried to stop.

Then I tried dating again and I discovered that yes, men still think they love "redheads" in the all encompassing term.  And the same and other adjectives were applied to me.  You are fiery.  You are distinctive.  You are rare and honest and strong.  You are clever and intelligent and beautiful.  And then...you are too much.  You want too much, you demand too much.  You are too raw and too honest, too discomfiting. You call people out on their harmless lies, you don't play the game.  You are too much to handle.

And, I thought, well, maybe I am too much of all these things, and I need to be less.  But maybe I don't want to be "handled".  I don't want to be put up with.  I like these things about me. And then, I started dating someone who did like all of those things about me.  He wasn't afraid of my intelligence.  He wasn't afraid of honesty and stubbornness and strength.  Perhaps because he was all of those things as well.  And it was going well and I was enjoying it so much, discovering that there was someone like that.  Not so much that he wasn't put off by my "me-ness" as much as that he was equally himself, and unapologetic about it. He was brilliant and clever and funny, he was kind and caring, he was motivated and driven and opinionated and a smart-ass.  He was well read and well educated, loud and silly and passionate.  Not to mention that we had a lot of similar tastes, in food, in reading, in politics, so the conversation was always good, always sparkling, always fun.  At least, from my point of view. And he challenged me, constantly. Not in a bad way, at least, not always in a bad way.  ;)  He made me think, he challenged how I viewed things and pushed me to reevaluate what I thought and why I thought it.  It wasn't something he necessarily did on purpose, that would be a bit condescending.  It's just what happened when we talked about things.  And I loved it.  When you have a personality like mine, a "redhead" personality, people don't challenge you much.  They mostly just get out of your way.   Don't misunderstand me, he had flaws, just like anyone else.  But, part of being in a relationship, whether it is a friendship or more, is finding someone whose flaws are bearable, and sometimes the flaws in a person make them even more compatible with one.  I don't want someone perfect, that wouldn't do at all.  It would give me an inferiority complex and make that person insufferable, really. When we were together, it was fun, it was lovely, but mostly, it was just GOOD.

And then...I was too much.  I wanted too much time.  I was too much of a risk.  And, it ended.  He ended it. And I was (and am) sad about it.  For all selfish reasons, if I'm honest. I think I got much more from him than he got from me and I am sorry to lose that.  I miss the stimulating conversation, the easy way we would lay together while he read me poetry, the debates.  And, I admit it, I miss who I was when I was with him.  I felt real.  I felt more ME than I have felt in a long time.  And, you know what?  It is a glorious feeling to feel like oneself. To be free and to feel like there might be a point at which you need hide nothing, and that it will be ok.   Of course, it never got quite to that point, but the possibility was there.  I don't doubt that our brief relationship had far less of an effect on him than it had on me.  I hope that it had a positive effect on him, but, I know it is nothing like it had on me.  I wonder why it did have such an effect on me...it didn't last that long, really.  But, oh, I am not sorry it happened.  And, I think God puts people in your life, in your path, in MY path, for a reason.  And I am grateful.

And now?  I do not know, as I said in another post, if this is completely a good thing or a bad thing.  Because my standards have changed.  Not only my standards of what I expect in a partner, I want that level of intelligence and social responsibility.  I want that passion and motivation.  I want that...unidentifiable something...that Je ne sais quoi, that there was.  And, I don't know if I will find it again.  But, that's ok.  Because, I had it for a minute. And it changed my standards about how I want to be loved.  Cared for. And it opened my eyes again to what it is like to have it, to be me.  All me.  Real me. Loved as me. And real me is good.  And I did fight hard to become this person. I know I have flaws and I try to overcome them, but many of the things that others might consider flaws are parts of me that I fought for, and love.  I don't want to shut that me up again.

This and That

I love my job...most of the time.  Maybe a more accurate phrase would be, I love what I do.  Because I do.

Piano dress for the opera was last night, which is the first time we see all the costumes on stage, mostly with lights.  I sat in the dark theatre with the crafts technician watching rehearsal (we do an MST3K sort of thing during rehearsals and it's hilarious), and at one point she turned to me and said, "Sometimes, I can't believe this is my job."  And, I knew exactly what she meant.  And, sometimes, neither can I.  There is a certain thrill to what I do,  I love the process, although it can be inordinately frustrating at times.  But, the idea of starting with a sketch or rendering from a designer and moving through the process of talking with them, researching the period, patterning the gown, doing a mockup or toile, tweaking things here and there and then building it in the actual fabric down to seeing it onstage?  It's magical.  There's no other word for it.  And, I think knowing what goes into making the magic makes it even more magical, somehow.

So, sitting in that dark theatre, waiting for the principal ladies to come on stage in something I created is a lovely feeling, and when they come out and it WORKS?  Glorious. It's pure delight to see a performer use something I have made to get even further into their character.  When what I have done just enhances the performance.  And, let's be honest, I do love to make pretty things.  And opera is a good venue to get to make epic, gorgeous, over the top things.  I've got a lovely series of pictures to post one of these days, showing how the process happens.

As I sat there, watching these lovely things that my hands made, marveling that I get to do things like this, it occurred to me that I may not get to do it for a whole lot longer if my plans come to fruition.  And that, dear readers, is dreadfully difficult to come to grips with.  Not only am I contemplating leaving the only career I've ever had, I'm contemplating not having the kinds of moments I had last night at rehearsal, the kind of moments that I am blessed to have fairly regularly in this field.  I know that there will be moments in the new career that will have similar sorts of feelings, but...ugh.  Giving up the pretties, giving up making someone's vision come to life?  It's sad.  Those kinds of moments are why I do this.  And at the pathetic wage for which I do it.  These kinds of moments are why the arts are important, why what I do is important, because I know that my work is part of what will transport people away from themselves for a time.

We did Turandot previous to the opera we are doing now, and it was the first time I actually attended a show as an audience member since I started working there.  The show was epic and it sold out the entire run.  It was pure spectacle, and gorgeous spectacle at that.  The music is beautiful, the tenor was spectacular and the sets, costumes and lighting were grandiose and beautiful.  The best part of it, though, was watching how the audience was affected by it, how moved they were, and knowing I had a hand in it.  It's quite something, honestly, to give people that kind of experience.

Giving that up?  Ouch.  But, I have to remember my priorities.  Which are...my daughter.  It's very difficult to support a child on a theatre technician's salary.  Clearly, the money is not the reason I do it.  ;)

Things to Remember

You cannot protect yourself from sadness without also protecting yourself from happiness.

Dammitall anyhow.

Redo

Two blog posts this close together?  Aren't you all lucky folk. Not only that, neither one is depressing! Woo-hoo!  I'm on a roll!

So, Small Daughter and I moved into this apartment a few months ago, and since then, it's been a bit of a battle to get things organized and whatnot.  Previously, I lived in my most beautiful house in a lovely little town near here.  It was delightfully old, had a lot of character and probably some ghosts, though I never encountered any myself.  It has old heart pine wood floors and high ceilings and a lot of original woodwork. and it was BIG. I loved that place and was very sad to have to leave it.

When it came time to find an apartment for self and Small Daughter, I knew I wanted something that was similar in feel to what I'd had before.  I looked long and hard and finally landed on this place.  It's old, not quite as old as mine was, it has lovely wood floors, high ceilings and lots of original woodwork.  It has some really cool old light fixtures and great windows.  It has some...um...problems, though, no question.  Big cracks in the ceiling, some water damage on the walls and old knob and tube wiring.  And no electrical outlet in the bathroom which is HIGHLY  inconvenient.  And, it's half the size.  BAD.

All that being said, though, it is inexpensive and very cute and suits me and the Small One quite well.  In fact, I let her help me choose it.  She liked it because it looks like our old house.

So, having left my old place, I needed some pieces of furniture, as some of them stayed behind.  I had to get a new couch and a cabinet, because storage in this house is at a premium.  I decided to repaint a shelf I owned and add some crown molding so it would match the new place better.  And I wanted new curtains. And so, I got a couch at the thrift store, it was ugly as sin, but I LOVED the shape of it, and then my mom gave me a cabinet for my front room as well.

Here, for your viewing enjoyment, are some before and after pics of my projects.

Couch Before-UGLY

Ooh, look!  Pretty Couch!!

Ugly Ikea Cabinet

Oh, Pretty Cabinet!!

Crown molding and paint do wonders.  Yes, I am going to reupholster her little recliner.  She chose a lovely floral matelasse that matches the couch.

Because I cannot have curtains without blue stripes.  It's a bit ridiculous.

Money, money, money

So, first off, my apologies to all of my poor readers.  I reread my posts from the last year or so, and man, what a downer!  I'm not sure how any of you managed to stick with me.  I used to be funny and interesting, then I got all whiny or something.  ;)  Alright, yes, I more or less had reason, but still.    So, even though I'm still pretty damn cranky sometimes (this is nothing new), I will endeavor to be better at communicating when things are pretty good in my life.  Or, at least, try writing when I'm not so irritable or downtrodden.

Anyhow....

I got paid on Friday, and realized that I am a little bit ahead in my budget, so I decided it was time to spring for a new mattress.  Since I moved out of my house and gave up the queen size bed (it would NOT fit in this place), I have been sleeping on an old full size.  The bed frame I have is fabulous, it was my grandmother's and it's OLD, made of beautiful white metal with brass finials.  Some time ago, no one knows when, the rails that connect the foot and headboard disappeared, so the ex made some new ones.  They've never fit quite right, so the head and foot sort of tilted at a slight angle.  I'm a little bit OCD, so this has always bothered me.

When I moved into this place, my stepdad put my bed together for me, and I decided to try and straighten the frame when POP!  Yep, I broke the bed.  The peg that held the rail to footboard snapped off.  As it was welded on, and I don't really weld, I was sort of stuck for the time being.  So, I just set the end of the rail where it goes and hoped for the best.  Well, ever since then, the bed falls down at fairly regular intervals. The rail slowly slides to one side, since there is no peg to hold it in place, until the mattress is no longer supported, and BAM, down it goes.  That could be really embarrassing if I were the sort to often have people sharing my bed.  Good thing I'm not.  My bedframe is now held together with tie-downs.  I know, it's tacky, but it works.

On top of the collapsing bed frame, you can add the mattress of death.  I'm fairly sure this mattress is about the same age as I am, possibly older.  It belonged to the ex's grandma.  (Hey, look at that, two grandmas, one bed!)  It is one of those super heavy old cotton and springs mattresses.  They weigh a bloody ton and are all bendy and weird.  And, it is OLD.  It has no support, it's weirdly squishy in all the wrong places and it's bad for the back.  But, you know, mattresses are pricey and I didn't really want to spend the money when it did well enough.

Yesterday, I decided it did not do well enough.  So, off The Small Daughter and I went to the mattress store. First we went to the one near our house and tried several beds.  The Small Daughter, in case you wondered, has opinions.  Firm ones.  Which she is vocal about. (I am not sorry about this.  More on her vocal opinions later).  We did not find one that was suited at this place, so we went to visit it's much larger counterpoint in the next town over.  We tried bed after bed, finally had it narrowed down to three.  Well, there were beds there that I WOULD have bought if I could have, but I don't have $1500 to spend on a bed.  YIKES.  The Small Daughter had found one that SHE was set on, but I wasn't buying a bed for her.  She seems to like the memory foam mattresses.  I hate them.  It feels like laying on a brick, but a brick that slowly sucks you in and envelopes you in an attempt to suffocate.  NO THANKS.  Besides, if you try to roll over on a memory foam mattress, you can't.  You are trapped in your own indentation.  It's creepy.

Back to the matter at hand.  After about 2 hours total of trying out beds, I finally settled on one.  A lovely, firm mattress with a pillow top.  And, in case you wondered, apparently grown ups do NOT sleep on full size beds, because they all assumed it was for The Small One and when I said it was for me, I got some really weird looks.  Hey, people, I'm single and live in a small apartment, what am I going to do with a big bed?  So, I bought it, took the hit to my pocketbook with as much aplomb as I could muster and scheduled a delivery for that evening.

Y'all, this mattress is HUGE.  I mean, DEEP.  My bed is now approximately 10 feet off the floor.  I feel like the Princess and the Pea.   Ok, maybe not 10 feet, but still.  I have a high bedframe anyway, which is great for storing crap under.  Add to that a good size box spring and a very deep mattress?  Well, The Small Daughter has to get a running start just to get onto the bed.  It's pretty comfy, though.  I slept quite well last night, though my body is aware that this is an unfamiliar bed.

I realized that my willingness to fork out for a brand new mattress indicates my awareness that I am going to be the only adult in my bed for a very long time.  Given the direction my life seems to be heading, I think I'm ok with that.
Here's a photo.  And a song.  (Thanks, Kath!)
Your New Twin Sized Bed-Death Cab for Cutie

New Paths?

Hey there kids, how's all?
So, I don't write as much lately, and I'm not sure why.  My friend Molly says it's because I wrote what I needed to and satisfied the need and it will return. I'm hoping that's the case.  I have a lot of thoughts and things running about in my head, but nothing has solidified enough for a blog post.

I've been dating a bit since my divorce, which I gotta say, is a bit weird.  The game, as I mentioned, has changed, since the last time I played.  And I'm not very good at this game.

I was seeing a really fantastic guy for a while, before he broke things off.  And I learned a few things about what I need and want in a partner.  This guy raised my standards a rather hefty amount.  I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.  Good thing, because I expect my standards could do with a raising, and hey, I deserve something great, don't I?  Bad thing because, damn, it's not going to be easy to find someone who appeals to me the way he did.  And who treated me the way he did.   It was awesome, kids.  It's hard to comprehend that that sort of thing is possible.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't true love or anything like that, it didn't last long enough to become anything like that.  But, it was GOOD.  Very, very good.  I hope he and I can remain friends, because the conversation was delish.  And, anyone who knows me knows I thrive on great conversation.

In other news, I am considering a MASSIVE rerouting of my life.  Like getting divorced wasn't enough, right?  Ha.  Let me give you some backstory.

My entire life, I wanted to be a doctor.  I had always planned to be a doctor and when I went to college, I was pre-med.  The classes were challenging, but I had been in advanced science classes all through high school and I loved them and I did well in them.  Same thing when I started college.  I did well in my classes, but as I said, they were challenging and time consuming.  And there were some things going on elsewhere in my life that made it difficult to devote the time and effort required to be a premed student.  And, looking ahead from that vantage point, I knew things were not going to go in a way that would facilitate me doing so many years of school and residency.   So, I changed my major to the only other thing I could think of that I was good at, which was costume design/construction.  And I did well in it and I made some connections and friends that I still maintain and am extraordinarily grateful for.  And, let's be honest, had I remained premed, my life would be COMPLETELY and utterly different.  I'd have never met my ex, never gotten married to him, never had my beautiful daughter.  I cannot imagine not having her.  And I cannot imagine not having the amazing and wonderful friends that I currently have from my school days and after.

Not to mention, had I been in med school or a doctor, I would not have had the opportunity to leave my job and work from home while caring for my darling nephew when he was wee, a necessity created by a car accident my brother was in.  And I would not have been able to be a WAHM to my sweet girl when she was wee, either.  So, all that to say that I do not regret my choice.

But, fast forward to now.  Single mamma, supporting my girl and self on my own on arts pay.  The arts do not pay well, friends.  Not for technicians, anyhow, which is what I am.  I have a good job and I am grateful for it, but yeah...  When I think to the future, and how caring for this lovely girl will only get more expensive as she gets older, I realize that I will not be able to provide for her as I'd like to.  I have been thoroughly blessed with talents that do allow me to do some things for her at little or no cost, but not all the things she will need and some of the things she will want.

So.  Rerouting of my life.  I mean, even more rerouting.  I am seriously considering doing something I have wanted to do since before my girl was born.   I think I want to become a nurse and then a Certified Nurse Midwife.  I know I've mentioned this desire before, but I think I may need to make it a reality.  For the record, a CNM is a midwife who has rights in a hospital and can do nearly everything that an OB/GYN can do.  I'm not specifically thinking of being the sort of midwife who assists homebirths, etc.  That's not really my thing, although it would depend on the practice I ended up in and my clients.

I've had a friend suggest I certify as a doula before I go back to nursing school, just to make sure I really do want to do this, and I think that is probably a good idea.  I have attended a couple of births and I know I do enjoy that.  I think I have the sort of temperament that works well in that sort of situation.  I don't have any issues with seeing blood, etc.  And I'm a good person to have around during a medical problem because I have learned to ask the right questions and remember the answers and I'm pretty empathetic.

Previously mentioned fabulous guy works in a health related field, and he has given me quite a bit of encouragement in that direction, for which I am grateful.  I asked him why he thought I might be good in a nursing field, and he honestly told me what he thought.  And, he's got a good ear to the ground for that sort of thing.

So, anyway, there it is, friends.  I'm scared as hell to take this leap, because it is a huge damn deal. It could backfire gigantically in my face.  But, it could also be very, very good.  It could turn my life around and give me and Small Daughter what we need for a lovely and bright future.  I just hope I'm not too old and therefore too obsolete.