What's with the stories?

Definition of obsess (v)

1. never stop thinking about something: to occupy somebody's thoughts constantly and exclusively
2. be preoccupied: to think or worry about something constantly and compulsively

Synonyms: preoccupy, grip, consume, fixate, possess, fascinate

 

I am obsessed with Stories. I think about them all day long. I do not discriminate between types of stories, subject matter, or format. I think about books, songs, movies, tall tales, private tales, memories, dreams, status updates, moments... all of these moments captured in words or images. Real or imagined they have so much power.

 

I feel like I have never lived to be a part of a culture that is built around stories. Not in an authentic way at least. In olden times, before the spread of fast, simple information, stories written and shared verbally held the secrets of society. Our past was remembered in stories. It is celebrated in stories. I long for that intimate experience of just sharing your wisdom and life experience in a story.

 

In some ways this is being created where I work. Late at night when the guests are gone we share. not for intimacy but just to share. There is so much power in gifting someone your story. I want more.

 

There is a man who comes to my store every day. He is dying of cancer. One day he will stop coming in. There have been other people who just stopped coming in. How long will it take for us to notice when he slips away? How long before the story of this man is gone. My grandma used to eat at the same restaurant every single day. Sometimes she ate there multiple times. She sat in the same booth, ate the same food. When I was little I used to go with her. after eating she "made the rounds" she would stop at the thrift store and run various errands. She saw the same people every day. She would share her stories with these strangers. Some would roll their eyes (like I did) some would listen intently. I wonder how long it took them to notice when she stopped coming in.

 

When I think about my brother I realize there is so much information missing. I didn't really know him well. I don't know what his hopes and dreams were. I don't even know his favorite color. All of the people who could have given me insight have drifted away. When I dream about him he is still 10 years old, stuck forever as a little blond menace. The lack of information does not make his story any less powerful for me. Power. There is so much power in requesting a story from someone.

 

Tell me more. Tell me about the time...

 

Wow. you care. You are interested. MY life has value.

 

I am interested. I want to know peoples story. I want to capture them and share them. I want to ask you to share with me something you would like me to know. Tell me about the time...

 

sometimes sharing your story can help you heal. It is how I have processed having most of my family die away one by one. It is how I have processed a lot of baggage. It is why I blog. I have stories to share. I hope you are interested in experiencing them.

 

Cupcakes and Courage

I just turned 30. Whew. I am glad I got that off my chest. Honestly, holy crap...

For weeks I have been spinning in circles. I couldn't grasp what was happening. I felt angsty, angry, and all together just didn't care. At some point recently I realized I have a hole. No not that one... nope not that one either... a proverbial hole. Somewhere in the pit of my stomach I have a piece of my spirit that is not being utilized.

I love my job. I do not love being greasy and sticky, but my job is so much more than that. I do feel fulfilled most of the time. But every once in awhile that silly hole rears its ugly face. In those moments I stop caring about responsibility. I get anxious, hostile, and I seem to manifest some low level self destruction. Not my proudest moments for sure. Last time it happened I got back into school. The sudden full on engagement made me forget. In the past I have taken on new challenges, earned promotions, enrolled in school, dropped out of school, and moved for no other reason.

I am getting too old to just allow this irresponsibility to take over. This time around I grabbed it by the horns. Its a foxy sort of demon beast. Very alluring indeed. I used honesty to explain what was happening for me. This helped those who rely on me to understand what was occurring. This allowed me to have the space to think about things a bit. I have come to the conclusion that the hole I have been avoiding is relation to my passion for storytelling. I want to write. Badly.

Andrew told me I should get a job writing for a local paper or something. That's a problem. Its not that I need to be writing in general. It is that I have things to share. I am driven to share them. I can not choose the stories. They choose me.

For the first time in a long time I had a birthday gathering. I was very excited. I decided to write a story for each of the people who said they were going to attend my party. I have been wanting to write for awhile now and I got these images in my head about each of these folks. these stories needed to be written.

So I started to write them. One by one they appeared on screen. It was so awesome because as I began each story I had no idea where they were going to go. They just came to life. They were a big hit as party favors too haha. The thing about those stories, the real raw truth about it, is that writing them was a better release than sex. Seriously. Maybe I don't have a choice. Maybe I am supposed to be writing. When I was young, people laughed in my face when I told them that's what I was going to do with my life. I guess I took it as fact. I have spent my lifetime convincing myself NOT to write. I have systematically destroyed nearly everything I have created.

I am going to stop... the destruction that is. I am not currently in school so I have some free time. I am going to start developing those stories I have accumulated in my mind. I am going to start to let them out. 

Well here is to a new decade. Perhaps it will be full of epic adventures... real and imagined.

What Happened Next

The last year flew by. I have not blogged in such a long time. I must say that after I posted my last entry I signed up for school. I ended up going full time for an entire school year. Today I received my AA degree in the mail. I graduated with HONORS! Heck yeah!

Skylie and Pepper took dance classes for awhile, but it became too much to work out with day care issues. Andrew and I continued to grow as individuals until we could no longer fit under the same roof. In January we moved apart. All that is left is for me to read and sign the divorce papers. in all honesty the only thing holding me back is the reading part. Now that I am not in school full time I want to read for pleasure... not divorce. I will set time aside soon and the final ties that legally bind us will be severed. Well except for those kids.

Some interesting things have happened since Andrew and I moved apart. The strangest is really how quickly we drifted apart. This is only strange because things do not actually feel any different, it is just strange to not have him around all the time. I took for granted having someone to talk to after a horrible nightmare, or having someone to vent to after a terrible day at work. Now I have to rely on friends.

Friends. Hmmm. That's something else that has changed. Once I moved I settled into myself. My life morphed so that my children were the center of my world, not work or relationship. Sharing my kids with Andrew 50/50 meant that when they weren't here, I was ALONE. It was hard at first. The silence is deafening. I would literally pace. I would call my friends and beg for hangout time, but due to work and school, I had no time to hangout. I was stuck alone. This allowed me to think. I stopped reaching out to all of my friends in the manic way I used to. One day I popped my head up from homework and realized I had not spoken to anyone outside of work and school in weeks. Had I lost my friends?

Well yes and no actually. Turns out I was a bit of a go-getter. I went out and took time with my friends. I was the giving tree. I gave and gave until there was nothing left to give. When I stopped giving my friends stopped taking, but did not start giving. I had selected friends that needed someone like me in order to engage the friendships they had. I had created this masterful pit of a social life. I quickly unmade it and found nothing left.

I actually felt better not giving all of myself away to others. I even got a bit selfish with those in my life I knew were flaky or unlikely to return my kindness. I had become more independent and liked it. The day this independence sank in was the day I saw The Dark Knight Rises in theaters. I had made plans with the flakes. they all fell through. Normally I would have rented a flick and stayed home by myself. But not on this day. I blogged about the experience previously so I wont re-hash all of the details, but the feeling of walking out of that movie alone gave me hope. my interdependence on others was fading.

From that day I have tried not to tie my happiness to the string of another persons whim. This is no easy task. As humans we all seek out approval and connection. I want that too, but I want it to be from an internal place, not just because I did something for someone else. As this year crept by I have grown closer to that place.

So that year marched on. Skylie completed first grade. She did well. Pepper turned 4. We live in a lovely apartment with my willow kitty, and a new addition Sage. He is still a kitten and is obnoxious enough I am sure he will earn his own post soon. I have completed the first half of my educational journey. It was extremely difficult to attend school full time while working 5 hours a week. I also have been swinging back and forth on what I want to do with my degree, and which degree to get. I decided to take time off in the fall. I will however go back to school in the near future.

So inside the last year I have continued the emotional journey I began several years back. I am learning how to stay in transition. I am willing to be a little uncomfortable in order to see what possibilities lay ahead for me. I am still here, and I am still pretty damn happy.

A workaholic is a person who is addicted to work. The term generally implies that the person enjoys their work; it can also imply that they simply feel compelled to do it.

Folks... I was a workaholic. Sometimes I think about it and wonder if the old thinking about an alcoholic holds true here... once a holic always a recovering holic.... no matter what the holic was into...

I don't think I believe that at all. I used to pour my life into work. I did it without knowing I had done it. I missed out on a few years of my kids life, and of my own life for that matter. I pushed for the things I thought could make my life and my family's life better. I worked for promotion. I worked to be the best. I wanted...everything.

That's not my life anymore. I have a new job, that strangely enough, doesn't function in a way conducive to me being a workaholic. This was hard. Especially in the beginning. I had so much free time. Time to think about all of the things I forgot. Time to dwell on the things that caused me fear and anxiety. Oh goodness did I dwell.

I slipped down a slippery slope of confused depression. It was confusing because for the first time in my life I had nothing to be depressed about. One by one I started working through my issues. I am still a work in progress, but I have managed to let go of a lot of my fear and my anger. Some sadness still lingers and I am starting to feel the sting of a few regrets, but its nothing I can't handle.

Now I have a new task... I have to figure out how to live my life as a non-workaholic. Its not as easy as you might think. Before I slipped into work till you drop mode I was a young pre-professional living childless with my boyfriend. I am now a two time mom with a divorce on the way. I am figuring out how to have friends, do you have any idea how much work those take? I am figuring out how to juggle me time and kid time. I am trying to spend as much time enriching my children's lives as possible, while still allowing them the space to be individuals, all while living around my Ex. Lets not forget that while I may not be addicted, I do still work 50 hours a week in management.

My oldest daughter is going to start first grade in a few days. It blows my freaking mind! Where did my little baby go? We spent the summer having some splendid adventures. Now the time has come to settle in to a routine. What should that routine look like?

Should is such a relative term isn't it? I mean what I believe and what you believe can be so different. So I am going to just tell you what I have decided to do...

I bought a planner. It is super cute, in case you wondered. In it I have written all of my paydays as well as Andrews. It also had bill due dates, birthdays, my work schedule, Andrew's work schedule, and any other events I see worth noting. I figured the first step it to get organized. There is no routine if you don't know what is going to happen next.

Then I looked into the community to see what is out there. I took a lot of notes and I started a conversation with the kids. I wanted to know what THEY are interested in. I learned a lot about my girls actually.

So when all was said and done I decided to enroll them in some classes at the local kid club. My youngest is going to take little leapers ballet. I am so excited to see her in a tiny tutu! My oldest is going to take dance one day a week and take cheerleading a different day. This is awesome because the two really are related in so many ways. I have also agreed to sign my oldest up in girl scouts. This is the most exciting thing of all. She is so stoked. I have applied to volunteer with them, we shall see if that goes anywhere. I will also sign up for PTA this year and as a volunteer for the school. I will be an active face in her educational life going forward.

In addition to the formal classes and activities, there are informal adventures I want to take the kids on. I plan to do at least one adventure a week. This is of course as long as the kids are good, and funding is available. Next week we have a couple activities planned. We will be going to the Oregon Coast Aquarium the day before school starts, then later in the week after school I plan to take Skyliana to the Portland Art Museum. The following week the circus is in town!

So to answer my own question... life after being a workaholic is going to be more hectic than life as a workaholic was... but at the end of the day I will feel better about my self, my kids will feel better about the mom they have in their lives, and there will be adventure! I will not miss out any longer.

Its not all about the kids either. I have strategically worked in some time for me too. I plan to get back into school. I will be attending live theatre. I am going to take swing dance lessons, pretty much I am going to do the things I have wanted to do, but never allowed myself to do. Oh the biggest news is that I plan to complete the Vancouver marathon next year. I will likely be walking in it, but I will finish! I am going to keep myself so busy that I forget to try to find myself and instead I will lose myself in the wonders of my own journey.

That is what an ex workaholic does to heal... or at least this ex workaholic!

(This story takes place in 2012)

I promise...

Definition of PROMISE

1a: a declaration that one will do or refrain from doing something specified b: a legally binding declaration that gives the person to whom it is made a right to expect or to claim the performance or forbearance of a specified act

2: reason to expect something <little promise of relief>; especially: ground for expectation of success, improvement, or excellence <shows considerable promise>

I am 29 years old. I have lived a lifetime of promises. I have made many, received many and broken few. For years I have held to the idea of a promise being supremely important. In a world with little honor, integrity and a blurred idea of respect... a promise is usually a word just thrown about. This is a shame.

There was a time when you could buy a house with a handshake and by giving your word. "my word is my bond". This is honor. This was a promise. A powerful yet simple declaration of intent, upheld by an idea. I am a business person and so I understand the value of collateral. Yet sometimes I yearn for a world where a promise means something again.

I have always tried to hold myself to a high standard, and a piece of that for me has always been to carry through with my promises. I do not say I promise unless I mean it. If I make a promise I will fight to the end to uphold my "word". I don't do it because society says I should. I don't do it out of some sad save the world mentality. I do it because it is the right things to do. I want my words to hold value. The way to make that happen is to put my actions where my words are haha. 

I would like to challenge you to stand for honor and integrity. You can not change the choices others make. We can all change the choices we make for ourselves. I chose to continue to hold a promise as gold. If I tell you I promise something... you will always know I have made the ultimate commitment to you and will fight, until there is nothing left to fight for, in order to fill that promise.

This is a promise.

In the mood to share.

This story will not be new to many of you. I originally wrote it as a note on facebook. It is an accounting of one of the most interesting and intense connections I have had in my life... no no it is THE most interesting and intense (so far). I am feeling nostalgic and felt like sharing.

Once upon a time there was a girl. She grew up in a bleak darkness. An empty hollow world full of chaos and anger. When she was 15 she met a boy. He too was lost and confused. They met in school. The day they met was just another day. Nothing special. Friend of a friend, nice to meet you. Then they started to talk one on one. Short calls, stopping by and so forth. The calls grew longer. More frequent. Deeper. Then came the night that changed everything. The girl had some issues at home and an opportunity to sleep over at the boys house came up... so she did. They talked all night until the sun came up. Suddenly the world was different.

They were consumed with the idea of each other. They talked constantly. Joined at the hip. Best friends. They went from being friend of a friend... to being neck deep in the most energetic exciting friendship in their young lives. The intensity was palpable to everyone around them. But you see this was not a romantic relationship. The boy loved the girl and the girl loved the boy. But he was gay. Their love was deep and affectionate and strictly platonic. What came out of their great affair was magic.

During this friendship jealousy rose and fell in others around them. He was like the sun, people were drawn to him and the light he radiated. She had her moments as well, waxing and waning like the moon. The two of them danced a delicate dance of entertainment, insight, vision, and healing. Colored red and black by those who witnessed the event.

There were great grand adventures, some of which will always be held dear.

Alas, rarely does anything this wonderful last forever. Life happened and the girl was swallowed whole by the darkness of her life. She had to escape to a far away land. The boy did not disappear from her life. They spoke and wrote constantly. Time marches on. When the girl came back to visit, she discovered that life had swallowed the boy whole. Not into darkness... but he was not the same. Or maybe he was and she was not. Whatever the case... over the next year they drifted farther apart. One day back in her far away land the girl realized the boy was gone. He was not coming back. A twinge of regret washed over her and then nothing. Things had run their course and they had both grown from it.

These two dark lost souls learned from each other. They gained confidence from each other. They discovered in the darkness who they were as people. Nobody wants to suffer alone. Everyone suffers uniquely. Once in awhile two people who are both suffering find each other. They help each other. Together they find their way. That is what happened to the girl and the boy. Together they broke free from the darkness and became better people.

This journey was long and hard. People don't change over night. Other people came and went. Spinning in and out of their lives. Time and distance eventually ended this magical affair of the mind and soul.

Even today the girl looks back and remembers the quiet intensity that freed her from the darkness. She wonders where the boy is. She wonders if he is still lost. She wonders if there will ever be another story in her life and beautiful as this story of the girl and the boy.


Well there you have it folks... hot off the presses so to speak. Out of respect for the people from the story... if you do know who the boy is keep it to yourself... if you were one of the people who spun in and out of the story and for one reason or another saw things differently... I don't care!!! This is my story... this is how I felt about the happenings...


That is the story as I had posted it. I have not closed the book on this one. I still feel like the boy is a lose end flapping in the wind for me. I know that if I really set my mind to it, I could find him. I am certain I just need to talk to him and ensure all is well... That he did in fact survive. Unfortunately my story here is a deeper more jagged mess than I would like to admit. Someday I will allow myself to heal from this. Someday.

I am no creeper... thanks for not noticing!

I love movies. I love them in a deeply personal way. I had planned to make them my career. It did not work out, but true love fades slowly if at all.

I always thought I would do something in the movie industry. I wanted to be a writer, or perhaps a director... ideally I would do both. My dad used to laugh in my face when I would tell him my dream. Rightfully so as it would turn out. When the time came to graduate high school. I wanted to move back to Cali and go to film school. I was so afraid of failing that I decided to go to Eastern Oregon University instead. I started out with a Writing major and a Theater minor. I figured there was a higher chance of finding success in Theater.

I got off to a bad start right away. I took a writing class and failed because I was too skilled of a writer. My teacher kept failing me on first drafts. He accused me of editing in my head as I went along. When I confronted him in class the shit really hit the fan. I called him on his bullshit. I challenged him to give me a random subject to write about during the class period. I sat in the first row and free handed an essay in less than half of the class time. I gave it to him with a pleased and cocky grin on my face. He read it and threw it in the trash. He insisted I must be editing as I went along. He stated that he has published 3 books and knows first hand that nobody could be that good of a writer naturally. I ended up dropping the course. In a small school like EOU there are not too many options as far as classes are concerned. I did what a reasonable person would do... I changed majors. I became a Theater major with a Business minor. I figured I needed to know how to pedal my own bullshit haha.

Life happened and I never graduated. I had taken every film class available and started on what turned out to be a fairly epic movie collection. I currently own 3000 films. I ended up working for Blockbuster. I spent my days talking to people about my favorite movies. Reading the backs of boxes, watching everything I could make time for. It was fantastic in its own way.

When things at Blockbuster went south my love of movies took a turn as well. Guilty by association I guess. I mean when I was a teenager I went to see everything that came out in theaters. I used to wait impatiently for Friday... new release day! To say I was addicted... does not cut the mustard.

So when I was growing up movies were always a social thing to do. I never went alone. We whispered about the movies, we talked about them the next day... have you seen Leon the professional? Its a fantastic movie and if you haven't seen it go see it NOW! haha well in that movie there is a scene where this man is in the theaters he is watching Singing in the rain. He is there alone. Something he finds wonderful happens. He looks around as he laughs to make eye contact with someone... he searches to see that someone else enjoyed this moment as he did... but he is alone. He leans forward and finishes the movie. The smile never leaves his face.

For me this is one of the saddest moments in cinematic history... to experience something splendid and not have anyone to share it with... oh the torture. So at some point in my life I developed this stand of not wanting to go to theaters alone. I watch movies alone at home all the time... but the local multiplex seems to be this beast I can not tame by myself. I honestly have gone in and paid for movies alone... and I leave before the previews finish. I feel creepy... like a pedophile in a park... guilt and shame over take me... I creep myself out and get anxious and leave. sad sad sad.

There have been many movies I wanted to see and couldn't find anyone to go with me. I usually just pass.

Not tonight folks. As part of this new challenge I am making against life... I am going to go to a movie alone. This is going to be a before and after post. This part being the before part (in case any of you were confused) I had plans this evening to go see a movie. Those plans got cancelled and I am left with nothing to do but sleep. Fuck that! I am going to seize this moment to push myself closer to Independence. In 20 minutes I will watch the Dark Knight Rises. When it is over I will come back here and let you guys know if I made it all the way through... talk about an underdog story hahahah...

Well folks... wish me luck!

Okay I have awesome news... I totally sat through an entire movie in theaters all by myself! as silly as it sounds, I was really anxious when I went in and sat down. I didn't feel creepy like I had in past attempts. I felt more... like I was betraying a dear friend. It almost felt like I was breaking a promise. Maybe I had made a promise to myself at some point... I don't know. But I can tell you that what I achieved was pretty epic. At least in the scope of my own life.

I have been fighting for a sense of self since Andrew and I first sat down and talked about divorce... or really since I broke away from the double wide clan... I dunno... It is human nature to always be searching for something. A hope, a dream, yourself... hahahhaa. I have been working on separating myself from my past, from my anxiety, and from my former habits. When I couldn't hang out with my friend tonight I out right said I would not go to a movie alone. I had made that a piece of the story of who I am. Fuck that! I don't need other people to be by my side to enjoy myself.

Half way through the movie I almost got up. The anxiety of realizing I was going to stay, how easy it was to stay, sank in. I got scared. I was going to let go of this big piece of baggage. I held my breath and grabbed my purse and prepared to stand. Then the plot turned and I got distracted. I suspended my disbelief and I allowed myself to get sucked into the adventure. The movie ended. I got up as I always do, turned back on my phone and walked to my car. When I arrived at Dark Phantoms side my heart fluttered very fast and I lost my breath for a split second. I did it. I did some random meaningless thing I set out to do, and it felt amazing.

I will go to a movie alone again. I will go to movies with friends again. I am not going to let the availability of my friends stop me from accomplishing the things I want to do. I wont stay home and throw a pity party because people couldn't come out to play. This is just another itsy bitsy piece of getting to a place where I am no longer my own worst enemy.

Thanks for going on this adventure with me!

(this story takes place 2012)