Femme Flavor

Once upon a time, there was a girl who loved to perform. Even if it was just in the privacy of her own bedroom, putting on “concerts” with her bed as a stage where she was Madonna and her unfortunate younger brother was directed in the art of being a doo-wop boy, and they both got The Belt when they were discovered wooing their “audience” after bedtime. Later, she would discover dance and musical theater, and would receive, and decline, an offer of a full scholarship to a music college. Real life had intervened by then, you see, and in order to receive the scholarship, the girl had to fill out a FAFSA. Which isn’t possible if you are an unemancipated minor who does not live with a parent and whose parent will not provide the necessary income/tax information. So the girl said, okay, guess I have to wait until I’m twenty-four, which is when the law says I can file a FAFSA on my own.

But by age 24, the girl was nearly a decade out from her artistic past. She’d been working full-time and living on her own since graduating high school, a day before her 17th birthday. There was no music school scholarship in her future; if anything, she needed to go to college to get a better “real” job – this making a living and supporting yourself thing was proving impossible.

But somewhere in the depths of the girl’s heart, somewhere she’d known she needed to bury for practicality’s sake, was a need. A need to sing at top volume, if only in the car with the windows up. To dance, if only at the sink while doing dishes. To revel in the arts that sustained her during some of the hardest years of her youth.

And that girl never got rid of her tap shoes, or her sheet music, or a single libretto.

I think that girl is closer to the surface than she’s been in a long time. Just sayin’.

Gratitude:

Loving friends.

Music.

The written word.

Perspective.

Glitter.

I owe Lisa a post with a whole bunch of awesomeness we outlined while chatting earlier, but I am reserving that for a night when I feel particularly vindictive. In the meantime, I will mark the date and time so I know which chat log to refer to when the time for that post comes, and will go entertain myself by engaging with another placeholder of sorts. Who knows, maybe I’ll learn something new about myself; it wouldn’t be the first time I’d been surprised by some side of me I didn’t know existed. Don’t wait up, darlings.

Sometimes, especially right after I have had to be big and strong and sturdy and stuff… I feel so small. Like a little bit that needs gathering up and petting. Like I used up every bit of grownup I have, and I just need to be small k for a minute.

I can’t let Joshua see this. I can’t let work see this. I won’t let most anyone see this, most of the time, though those of you who know me well know it’s a part of me, even if you’ve never seen it for yourself.

Sometimes I want my big person to scoop me up and hold me tight, wipe my tears with rough hands, press my head to their chest and rock me while they tell me stories of things that have nothing to do with anything.

And then I realize that no one is gonna do that tonight, so I have to do it for myself. I look in the mirror and say hey you, yeah, the one with the long face, what’s gonna fix it? And I toddle off to pull on my amazing new legwarmers and cozy up to my cats and dive back into my Ya fantasy novel. It’s not a perfect solution, but it’s a bit of comfort I can give myself. And I deserve it, dammit.

Gratitude.

Tomorrow is Friday.

The long weekend.

Plans for ridiculously fun wii games with friends tomorrow night. + vodka.

These legwarmers. They really are kickass, y’all.

ETA: the fact that I can count. That was only four, stupidhead. So I am also grateful for Lilo and Stitch. There.

It is the only constant, no?

I have lived a life full of change, usually violent shifts, unexpected jolts, things from which I had to recover quickly. I became accustomed to this, and it became a comfortable way of life. Too much stability made me restless, like I was waiting for the inevitable chaos that would make everything feel “normal” again.

I haven’t worked my way entirely out of that mindset yet, and I find myself stuck in this purgatory of sorts – a place in which I recognize the constant chaos as being unhealthy, but have not yet embraced a life in which calm progression from one state to another is not only the norm, but better for every part of me.

The battle for growth is plenty chaotic, but it exists primarily within me, and isn’t influenced, or necessitated by, the actions of others. Sometimes the acknowledgment of growth is, but it is more an accessory to, not a necessary part of.

I’m taking my baby steps. That’s all I can do. And it’s enough for now. Thanks for standing by me as I do. Cuz this probably makes no sense whatsoever, but I know you all still love me. That’s pretty rad, y’all.

Gratitude:

Not having caught Joshua’s flu. At least, not yet.

The means to provide healthy food and remedies for him when he is sick.

A job where it’s okay for me to come in an hour and a half late because I was waiting for a call from the triage nurse and making 8 hours worth of homemade soup, meds, juice, hot beverages, and Kleenex available to the boy.

Potential Melissa time this weekend.

Regular check-ins from Miss Lisita, whose life is ten times more demanding than mine, and yet she still always not only thinks of me, but actively carves out time for me.

I know you’ve got something awesome going on for you – share your gratitude!

Time for some gratitude, folks.

• Joshua.
• Justin (aka @justinlibrarian, the most rad teen librarian in the history of ever), the Portland Public Library, and the Portland PD for putting on awesome programs like tonight’s Teen Madness after hours party.
• Super incredible friends.
• A book I can’t put down.
• Weekends.

Hope you are all enjoying your Friday night; off to see if I’m good for the remaining 350 pages of Pathfinder before sleep finds me.