I am testing my mobile phone to see if posting from my crackberry really works?

Circling around…

There was this time when I was probably 16 or 17, wait, maybe I was 17. Yes, I was 17 years old going on 18. (do you wanna sing the song after that sentence?) I was in NYC for a summer theatre program. Everyone back home was "scared for me." But, it wasn't overwhelming. Everyone expected it to be. Even everyone today, 15 years later, 32 going on 33, asks me if I was scared or if it was a wild and crazy new experience being 17 years old and in the Big Apple. It wasn't. It just WAS. I was in NYC. It was just supposed to be. Anyway, I was there in the big apple studying, dancing, singing, laughing, living. Everyday---ALL DAY! This on 6 hours of sleep. In fact, things haven't changed much. I may not move as fast, or be as eager to get it going as I was at 17, but I sure as hell haven't caught up on sleep or stopped feeling like every hour counts. In fact, I am writing this at 1:28am after a fitful 6 hours of sleep the night before. In fact, I am memorizing lines for an audition. 16 years ago, about this time of the year, I was memorizing lines for a class. 16 years later I am memorizing for an audition. Nothing big, just a gig in a show somewhere. Anyway, I digress. There was this moment in the summer of 1995 when I had a few hours off from classes and such. I was exploring the upper theatre district of Times Square. It was very rare that you were ever separated from the other company members. It was even more rare that you would find yourself alone. I wished I could remember how or why I found this time alone, but I don't remember the specifics. I feel like it had something to do with waiting in line at a bank or western union or something. However, that could be a figment of my imagination. Anyway, at some point, I stopped at a payphone on the southwest corner of 50th and Broadway to call my parents. I remember it so clearly. Even as I write this it's becoming more clear than when it came to me moments ago. It was hot but not hot enough for me to care. Which means it very well could have been 85-90 degrees, but I didn't care because I was in NYC. I shuffled through my fanny pack (yes fanny pack) for my calling card (yes calling card). After locating the SAM's CLUB prepaid card, I took a deep breath. There was a moment where I looked over both of my shoulders and across the street. Then I looked in every direction to make sure it was safe. But that was fleeting. The next moment I took all of what was around me in while I waited for the card prompts and then finally the ringing of my IOWA family phone. In fact, I stood across the street from Caroline's Comedy Club and could still see the LETTERMAN marquee from my pay phone. I remember that some tall funny lady who was on the series COACH was performing at Caroline's, at least according to the marquee, I made a mental note to bring that up to the father since he loved that TV show. Blah, blah, blah...I talked to my parents and told them how excited I was. I talked about standing on the corner of 50th and Broadway. I mentioned the actress/comedienne from COACH performing across the street. I told them I was safe and happy and excited. They mentioned how loud it was. They asked if I was eating enough on my budget. They asked if I felt safe. Blah, blah, blah...and the conversation ended. I kept myself huddled tightly to the payphone as I unzipped my fanny pack to place my phone card back inside. I dropped the phone card. I bent to pick it up and saw a man's shoe. I slowly traced that to the man's calf then to his knee, all of which was exposed in his GAP-type khaki shorts, and then I realized how close he was to me. Or at least how close it felt he was to me. Apparently he grabbed the phone card and picked it up before I even looked back down at the ground. I couldn't take my eyes off of his face. He looked so familiar. SO, so familiar that I looked around thinking he might be with a handful of people I knew. When I turned back I realized that the phone card was in my hand even though I dont' remember retrieving it from his. I looked directly at this man. This man that wasn't much taller than me. This man that wasn't much thicker than me. This man that didn't appear to be terribly older than me. And, although it was only a few seconds, maybe 10 or 15, I studied him. 'Why did he look familiar to me,' I thought? He was olive skinned, he was lean and thin but not skinny like me. He had brown eyes and lines across his forehead. This and his height being the only thing that proved he was older than my 17 year old self. I trembled for a second and looked away. I looked south toward 42nd Street, though not out of fear, just because I couldn't look him in the eye. As I placed the phone card back in to my fanny pack I heard him say....

"Everything will be okay. You will survive this. You have survived that. Trust me. Trust me. This is what you were meant to do. Meant to be. Get away, be away, find a way. Life is not just the here and now. It is not just what is back there. It is what is about to be. You will be fine. You will be better than fine. You will thrive. You will be divine."

I turned around and immediately knew he wouldn't be there. It wasn't some ghost moment. I just knew he was gone. I knew half way through the message I was being delivered. It only took me a breath or two to realize as I stood at 50th and Broadway that I met... myself. I was introduced to me. The me I would be. It would take years for me to realize this was probably just a figment of my adolescent imagination. My young adult version of myself getting caught up the moment of being alone on Broadway and 50th Street in Manhattan, NY. Looking about, dropping my phone card and picking it up, placing it in my fanny pack, looking around and feeling safe. Suddenly, I felt comfortable and confident. I was probably overcome with the reality that I was meant to get away. I would be safe making bold choices. I could be divine.

It would take another moment of meeting myself entering Montrose Beach in Chicago, IL on the 4th of July 2010 for me to put the pieces of this puzzle together. I went to tie my shoe and someone placed their hand on my back just below the neck (or at least it felt like that) and without turning around I heard them say...

"Look up. See that. That sky, that purple sky? That purple sky is home. Everything will be okay. You will survive this. You have survived that. Get away, be away, find a way. Life is not just what is back there. It is what is about to be."

I think we meet ourselves many times in life. There are moments that are so crucial, so evolved, developed, and filled with sensory that we have an almost outer body experience. Except, maybe that is inaccurate. Maybe it is an inner body experience. So inner, so inside of me that I actually believe I have met two different people in my life. Except I am not sure they really, physically happened. They weren't people. They were me. They are me. This is me.

I think we meet ourselves many times in life. It always when we least expect it or when we are most elated and open to it.

I believe it to be a Circle Mirror Transformation.*

*(a title of a play I never saw but loved the title)

Vision Board or Vision Bored???

I can't believe I have actually heard this come up in recent conversations,



"VISION Board!"



A sentence overheard like this..."so, while I was cooped up last weekend I started adding to my vision board."



Or this one..."she is really talented. I told her she needs some focus, maybe a vision board"



I mean, I know I heard Oprah mention it. I think she occasionally refers to it. But, I didn't think anyone actually did one. But, in the past several weeks I have heard at least 3 people talk about their vision boards. Part of me wants to puke. Part of me wants to laugh. Part of me wants to pry. And, honestly, a large part of me wants to know if I should do a vision board.



I have my own beliefs in what motivates people. I believe that most of our motivation for anything we do originates out of two primal emotions: LOVE and FEAR.



We either LOVE to eat and let ourselves get Fat. Or we FEAR that we are getting too fat and we diet. Or we come and go from both sides of the spectrum.



When we LOVE someone so much, it motivates us to keep the relationship alive. We are motivated to talk to that person, to help that person, to hold that person. When we are AFRAID of losing someone or afraid it isn't going well any longer, we are motivated to lie, cheat, harbor our feelings inside, hypothesize etc.



But, I also believe we "go toward what we focus on." When I focus on the negative in my life, things never seem to look up. When I focus on money problems there is never a solution. When I look in the mirror at a blemish or a scar my perspective of my self changes. The same is said when I look in the mirror with a good hair day and nice suit. I feel sexy. I walk out the door differently. When I focus on leaving 20 dollars at home every time I walk out the door, I find myself with extra money at the end of every pay period. And, I definitely believe that if you hear something enough, over and over and over again, it can start to become your personal truth.





So, does a vision board put those feelings into better perspective? Or, are we just bored with our daily life, daily outcomes, etc, and decided to vision our life in a make believe way? Does the board function and motivate? Or, does the board just remind us? Which can either measure our success or constant reminder of where we are NOT. Maybe the bigger question is what are my visions? Before I can make a board for them or get bored of them, I should probably start to figure out what they are?



I should also stop judging those who do have faith in the power of a vision board. Who am I to criticize or patronize or condescend. What ever works for you! I certainly don't seem to have it right, or at least any better...



Let's see...I envision...umm...ummm...well, right now...I envision wine and maybe some froyo!

Another attempt

Here I go.





With no readership but myself.





I have to start all over and get it going again. I made a promise to myself that after my trip to Chicago over the weekend of March 6th, I would jump back on to this "writing" idea that I have. I am not sure if a blog is exactly the way to go anymore, but for now it seems like the best way for me to do it. Using my ballpoint and a sheet of lined paper inside a leather bound book seems so archaic at this point. And, truthfully, the thought that even one person (even somebody I actually know) could read this is just the amount of pressure/validation I need to keep me writing...ANYTHING!





Right now that ANYTHING is a haunting sadness and an overall lethargy. These two emotions seem to be the most powerful over the rest of my flurries that bluster through me on any given day. Sure, the sadness can be linked to my departure from NYC after nearly 14 years of braving the "concrete jungle where dreams are made of." The lethargy is part complacency, part normalcy, part growing older in a city that always makes you feel 10 years older than you are. I am tired all the time but don't sleep well. I am lazy with my days but still get everything done that needs to be done, for work, for home, for me. I am lacking motivation but have a tendency to keep knitting, keep reading that one book that has taken me 4 months to finish, that one vocal CD I have been working on since December, and the organization of my belongings that seems to be 3 years in the making. I am bloated and feeling fat for my frame, yet I am cutting out carbs, drinking less, and trying desperately to not indulge in the late night binges. I am not an idiot. I realize this all points to me just not being happy with myself, or where I am in my life. I keep trying to understand that "unhappiness." I don't necessarily feel unhappy. But, I think my actions, feelings, and demeanor all point to something unhappy within me, around me, about me. I know that I wished I were doing more in life. More meaning what, I don't know? I guess when I say 'more' I mean something bigger than myself, or something truly myself. I feel pulled in too many different directions hence never giving anything 100 percent of my devotion. I always spend my days wishing for more time, looking back at what I didn't get done instead of what I did. I also tend to wake up with a feeling of anxiety. I always feel like there is some impending doom awaiting me when I turn off my alarm and turn on my phone, when I open my mailbox, when I open my front door, when I take my first step into the jungle. I know that I need some inspiration, some motivation. I hope I am not putting too much pressure on my huge life change to suddenly spark the inner artist in me, or to transform me into an overnight healthy, successful version of myself. But, they say that huge life changes like "moving" can either be the most difficult thing to go through or the most rewarding. It forces you to face the harsh realities of starting over, getting to know new people, new places, and new life. I can't sit on my couch anymore in a pile of safety blankets, hugging a pint of complacency and sipping a cup of soothing liquid of my choice. I hope this is the case for me. I hope I can face the new chapters in my life with more zest. I hope I can zoom through those chapters in half the time it has taken me to read the last book I read.



Here is to another attempt.