another horoscope...

i like reading my horoscope. i don't plan my day by it, but i find it sometimes inspirational.

home sick today, i found myself staring out the window contemplating this particular horoscope. i have no idea what it means, but it got me thinking about the goals i had for 2011. i know better than to sit around hoping that the big change i want to happen will just fall in my lap. that's why it hasn't happened yet. i've not been on my game and i've been half-assing it.

instead of watching horrible weekday tv, i sat with a notebook and doodled a plan. i've mapped out my winter, and come spring, i hope to emerge from my den significantly closer to achieving my goal. (a goal is a dream with a deadline--a fortune cookie once told me.)

it's amazing how fast hours... days....weeks pass--time gets away from me. i said at the beginning of this year that this would be the year i turned the corner and made misfit hue my primary job. well, it wasn't. i was distracted with a whole mess of personal crap. i feel stronger now, but it was an exhausting year and i'm still easily distracted by shining things.

is there nothing left to do but accept this year as a failure? it wasn't exactly failure... it just wasn't what i had intended. the lessons i learned weren't the ones that i had hoped i would.

but, i'm not giving up. baby steps up the mountain--and i'm NOT looking back.

"To understand the shift occurring today, you must look at events from a lofty perspective. A slow liberation process is gathering momentum. Over the next few months you won't refuse an opportunity to rid yourself of an oppressive part of your past. You'll shed your old complexes and emerge renewed. Don't be alarmed if family relations suffer a bit. The distress is only temporary."

well, color me happy!

"Welcome to Hollywood! What's your dream? Everybody comes here; this is Hollywood, land of dreams. Some dreams come true, some don't; but keep on dreamin' - this is Hollywood. Always time to dream, so keep on dreamin'."


my movie: pretty woman.


ahhh, chick flick, you may say. yeah. big time. i know. 


to me, it is much more. i see the person i strive to be--who gets what she wants by being herself.


nahhhh, not cinder-fuckin-rella, as Kit would say. 


i see a much bigger and different message. the outside of the movie is cinderella. bad girl makes good. prince whisks her off to the chartered plane bliss. 


that's not what i see and it isn't what i want.


i had a conversation the other day that got me thinking about what i do want from a relationship and i thought about Julia Roberts using a safety pin to hook up her boots and offering a buffet of various condoms. that's me. "I'm a safety girl." :) i could quote this movie till i drive you crazy. so, i'll stop now. 


back to the conversation and my connection to hollywood. i dig chick flicks. i'm a pathetic, hopeless romantic. utterly lost to it. i get weepy over everything, and if a man can't tear up at the end of breakfast at tiffany's well, hell, that's just cold.


but, this is about about miss vivian and edward. what i love about their story is that she wasn't looking for him. he was work. she had her own thing. it was bedraggled and dangerous and one rent payment away from falling apart, but it was hers. he wasn't looking for her either, but together, they were a little better for knowing each other--a real give and take. and let's face it, that scene on the piano? that's just stupid hot.


she had dreams of her own. she'd seen them fall apart. she knew her weaknesses and strengths. she had a bit of a plan. she hadn't given up. she was strong and smart and sexy. and, damn it, she wasn't crying in her vodka over her losses. 


i want to be her. i am my own personal version of her. my crazy, quilt work life is like hers... minus the pimps and johns. but, dude, i've been right there on the edge. i haven't and i won't give up. 


i also like that despite her line of work and what the ladies in the clothes shop thought of her, she had class. she could do anything and she was willing to work to get it--but she NEVER stopped being vivian. i love the character's flexibility and how she embraces change and growth. dress her any way you like, giveth and taketh away... she is still vivian. 


and she tells edward what she wants. no games. she is always honest with him. she allows herself to get hurt. 


and most importantly, she doesn't settle or compromise her values. she walks away.she takes what she has learned and earned and walks away.


i'm sorry, but that is a valuable lesson. 


and what about edward? well, he's all that and a bag of chips. we are talking about richard gere here... but he listens to her and opens up to her. he doesn't judge her or dismiss her. instead, he gives her some guide posts to his new and different world. he's broken, just like her--just like all of us. he's a force to be reckoned with, a man who knows himself, but who knows there is more and is willing to try... still willing to take risks.


imagine that, two adults.


of course, it's hollywood, so there is a happy ending. i'm okay with it though because there is one more little lesson that i think sealed the deal for me.


edward climbs that fire escape to "rescue" the princess, and when he does,  he asks what happens now?


she says, "she rescues him right back."


amen, sister! everybody deserves to be rescued and it feels just as good to do the rescuing as it does to be rescued.


so, is it a chick flick? oh def, and i'm crying like a baby at the end.. every single time.


but, it's not a fairy tale to be a strong, independent woman who is caring, beautiful and willing to take risks to get what she wants.


dude, that's me.


http://youtu.be/LGPbvOirz8I

miss clara

i recently had the pleasure of an afternoon photographing miss clara... such a sweetheart!

the angel in the house is a codependent...

the angel in the house will insist you eat the last piece of pie even if she is starving.

there is good hospitality and then there is straight-up unhealthy behavior.

more than ten years ago, i spent a bit of time studying virginia woolf. what caught my attention was her piece "a room of one's own". i was struck by the thought of killing off the angel in the house, the perfect, pious, submissive wife and mother.

i also studied kate chopin and charlotte perkins gilman, two more women who put this ridiculous ideal under a microscope and released that perfect victorian angel to the world to find freedom.

when i ran across a room of one's own, i was enchanted with woolf's discussion of women as writers and her description of what may have happened if shakespeare had a sister, and it was she instead of him, who had the inspiration to write those magnificent plays, the outcome would have most likely been a tragic loss.

between that and the suggestion that in order to write, a woman needs an income of her own, a room of her own and to first and foremost, kill the angel in the house, i was hooked on the concept. these three writers, woolf, chopin, and gilman, became my personal heroes.

from these pieces was born misfit hue... getting a hue of one's own and killing off the angel in the house one blog post at a time. if you've followed me for even a brief amount of time, you've read or heard me talk on these themes.

but, thank the heavens, learning never ends and there are always new revelations.

it was only recently that i realized why i had an immediate attraction to the characters and themes that these women wrote about. it is their efforts to break the patterns of codependency, their fight to be healthy.

i'm learning that being healthy can be the greatest lifelong endeavor, with chunks of understanding falling into place randomly.

i've never had the language, the full context and understanding of why i've defended these writers so strongly. i always thought it was simply the victorian life--the "hysteria" diagnosed by men. i thought it was the expectation of marriage and being submissive. but, it goes much, much deeper than that. one does not need to be married to be a caretaker, persecutor and victim.

i still don't understand this entirely, but can see much research and reading in my future. it would be nice to return to my roots of literature, to re-evaluate my understandings of it and the reasons certain pieces speak to me.

regardless, one more piece of my own personal understanding has been revealed and more are about to surface.

and now, i know why i really hate the angel in the house.

there is only now...

there is no perfect time, no perfect plan.

a perfect time to fall in love does not exist. a perfect time for a career will not come. the perfect time for children is not a schedule-able event. the perfect time to sit on the porch and stare at the moon is now.

now is the best time to discover and use your talents, to tell someone that they are a most amazing person, to look into a child's eyes and know unconditional love.

a good friend lost his wife and best friend last night. they learned she was sick one week ago.

i don't have children and i know that they say losing a child is unlike any grief i could know.

but i know love. i know the complicated weave of a life with someone who is part of a full and joyful heart.

i have written this many times: life is not a dress rehearsal.

there is only now.

no regrets...

no regrets. absolutely. put it on my headstone, i've lived the dream of my beliefs.

but if i die today, that absolutely is no longer true.

several years ago, i ran into a friend from high school and after talking for a while, she asked, "what happened to you?"

"what do you mean?" i asked.

"you used to take risks and go places... places the rest of us were afraid to go," she said. "you had the balls in the group--no fear. what happened?"

i was shocked. me? what balls?

"i'm terrified of everything," i laughed. "who the hell do you think you're talking to?"

and then she reminded me. she reminded of the stunts i pulled in high school--lots of them that i'd conveniently forgotten. i vaguely remembered this person, but it'd been a long, long time since i took a single risk.

a few years after this conversation, i took a huge risk. i turned my back on everything and struck out on my own.

now this little stunt has had varying degrees of success, but the one thing that has been consistent, has been my growth. i've learned so much about myself, tried new things and popped out a lot of dents. i've worked really, really hard and i'm very proud of who i am today.

i've never forgotten what my friend said to me, and early in this new adventure, i developed a mantra of no regrets. i would do my best and i would live with the consequences whatever they may be, good or bad.

no regrets. those little words are huge. on more than one occasion, i have recited them to give myself strength. i have thanked my conviction for the positive outcomes, and sometimes, i have grit my teeth and chanted those words through tears.

mostly, i've thought things through, sometimes i've gone by instinct, but rarely have i been rash.

so, this is a first. the first time that i can honestly say i truly regret something that i've done. if i could go back in time, i'd do it differently. that was not who i am. i want a redo, but life seems to be fresh out of them this month.

so, here i am in my new life, one that was no easy task to build and one that is not finished by any means. it's full of many wonderful people and experiences and lessons... and now, it also has regret. the only thing i can do is accept it, accept the lesson, regardless of how bitter it may be.

so, i'll look both ways before i cross, and take my risks as they come.
no regrets, my friends. no regrets, save one.

day dreams swept under the rug...

i have a few goals and dreams. i'm no different than anyone in that regard, and i can be ruthlessly practical about them.

i have one dream that i will not divulge, that i can barely even acknowledge in the light of day. it is so unlikely and so close to my heart that if i go after it and it doesn't work... well, it would be the most painful of all the disappointments and brokenhearted moments.

i'm certain that i'm not the only person with a dream like that, and whenever i see someone who is hurt and suffering, i hope that their pain is not from losing that one secret dream.

life is hard and we are not kind enough to each other, in my opinion. i hope that in the scheme of things, i've helped more than i've hurt, and that if i can, i can help someone reach that secret dream.

we all just want to be happy after all.

tornadoes in town...

this post was written on 4/29. i got distracted and forgot to post it. 

a tornado hit this town last week. i heard the sirens and went out into it anyway. i had a show that i wanted to shoot and i'm not afraid of weather.

our airport was hit and a few neighborhoods in the northwest. i heard about it on the radio, but was too busy for tv or newspapers, so i saw no photos or footage.

monday morning on my drive to work, i kept an eye for airport and was not surprised as i drove past to see the twisted signs and boarded up windows.

what i did not expect was coming upon trees snapped like popsickles sticks, neighborhoods of patchwork blue tarps, and businesses overturned like a lego village knocked off the display table. i veered dangerously close to the other lane.

what i saw affected me and my heart went out to the people who must have still been in shock. that last 10 minutes to work were tough.

as friday dawned full of warmth and promise, i was pleased to put on a service international t-shirt and lend a hand. i was amazed by the amount of people who gathered to help strangers and neighbors. the spirit was quite high among the volunteers and homeowners... and there was a lot of love.

mahem in the month of may...

the last time i posted, i thought my life was crazy. HA! the universe seems to have some ridiculous sense of humour because apparently i did not have the slightest clue how nutso things could be.

and, i will think twice before i dare sing "oh, woe is me" ever again. HA!

let me merely say that the month of may involved my mom being rushed to the hospital, disturbing things people do to themselves, more disturbing things people do to people that they care about, a near breaking point number of commitments, fabulous opportunities, and the most unexpected and wonderful person bringing on one of the darkest nights, and at the same time, being the coup de ville at the bottom of a cracker jack box. oh yeah, that's a meat loaf reference. you read that right.

you just never know what a day will bring.

so here i am at the end of the month reflecting on what i've learned, digging myself out from under a heap of photos and catching up on missed sleep.

i think a little more distance will give me clarity. but, i know that i am a very strong woman with a very high tolerance for many things. however, i did find my breaking point this month and even when i was absolutely sure i was going to turn into one of those people you hear about on the morning news, i managed to keep my extreme emotions as in control as anyone could ask.

and, i turned to my friends. i gave myself the okay to call in favours, beg for shoulders to cry on and hands to hold. you know what? they were there. every single, magnificent one of them was there.

how lucky am i? how insanely and spectacularly lucky am i?!? i have the best friends a person could ever ask for and i appreciate them. i will certainly never forget the impromptu calls for company, late evening rants, the hugs and gentle nudges. i hope that when they need me, i will be as much a support for them as they have been for me. i know that i will do my best.

i occasionally find myself awake in the early morning hours wondering if maybe i've made too many mistakes. i've never had children, i've divorced and i have little family and a strained relationship at best with my mother. in the early morning hours, i hear her voice asking me what am i going to do without anyone to take care of me? and then, i feel horribly broken and alone.

but, i am not alone. not by a long shot. not by a mile. maybe that's what i learned this month. i learned that it's okay to reach out and ask for help. i learned that my family is wide and diverse. and, i learned that i can still trust and take chances.

i may be a bit dinged up and weary, but no, i am not broken or alone.

first comes love, then comes running mascara....

i've been charging through life for the past month like a tsunami of positivity.

but, faking it till you make it is freaking exhausting.

love sucks. it sucks like nothing else. absolutely nothing can rock your world and rip you apart like having your trust and best efforts thrown from a car window at eighty miles an hour.

so. in the middle of my most recent tidal wave of grief, i stopped and decided to turn it into art. it was a lovely distraction from feeling the pain.

first comes love, then comes running mascara.

you're a good woman...

if anyone but the dude says these words to me, i feel like i'm in a really bad country song. but, when he says it, or texts it, i feel all grown up and solid and... accomplished.

i've been away for a while because i've been hurting. shortly after my last blog post, the dude and i broke up. the dude, as i refer to him, is a lovely man that i met in january last year. we had a wonderful year full of road trips and tacos and football games and... and... i could go on and on about how absolutely wonderful he is and how well he treated me. let's just say, i was the happiest redhead you'd ever met. it didn't mean a hoot to me where he took me or what he gave me. he gave me himself and his love one-hundred percent and i was thankful for that every day.

but, all relationships have their bumps and we hit ours at, conveniently enough, just about the one year mark. we didn't survive.

i'm admittedly not handling it well, even after a pretty crappy track record. after a difficult divorce, i fell into a relationship with someone who was bipolar and that was incredibly hard to leave behind. eventually, i met the canadian and fell head over heels for him. after a good long effort of trying to regain his attention, i finally accepted the truth and we are now friends.

then came the dude.

after all of the previous relationships that i've had, i've been pretty resilient about dating at their end. even after the canadian, i got out there in the interwebs and started conversations almost immediately. no regrets, move on... it's been almost an unconscious drive. this is not the same.

i've been unusually reclusive and i spend a lot of time standing in the middle of my apartment forgetting what i was just doing. i did get a wonderful companion, jack white--the fluffiest kitty ever, and i have finally begun to accept my friends requests to go out. but, the thought of even talking to another man makes me queasy and not in school girl nervous kind of way.

our breakup happened rather quickly and i didn't honestly see it coming. i was insanely happy one day and the next trying desperately not to fall apart at my desk--in a new job.

though i like to believe i'm a real pick-myself-up-by-my-bootstraps girl, it has been close to two months and i still cry at some point nearly every day. it's pretty ridiculous and pathetic. i'm angry with myself about that.

i recently saw the dude for the first time since we broke up, and as always around him, my mind went blank and i just smiled. somehow, his presence just gives my crazy little world a little extra sparkle.

of course, i can go on without him. of course, i will. but, the truth is, i simply can't see the bootstraps through my tears right now. i know that they are there and for now, i'm hanging on to that.

in the meantime, i keep reminding myself that i am a good woman who is momentarily trapped in a bad country song.

learning to walk...

for the past three years, i have preached at the top of my lungs, to anyone who would listen--how can i walk alongside someone if i cannot walk alone.

i've quoted and lived by the words of great women who were independent thinkers, feminists, rule breakers--women i respect. their words offered me strength through overwhelming self-doubt.

but, what do you do when you've accomplished a goal? what do you do after you've reached the peak of mount everest? faced your greatest fear? become comfortable in and accepting of your skin?

i believe you can continue to grow-it never has to end. it's not necessary to carry the torch of one word, the one point, and never grow beyond it. there is something else just beyond... we are the sum of our parts, our experiences, and we are beautiful for it.

i've looked in the mirror and looked my fears directly in the eye. i am stronger than they are. i am more than doubt, more than desire, more than independence, more than hope. through the extremes of my heart, i've found the comfort of my soul.

i said, how can i walk alongside someone if i cannot walk alone.

today, i realized, i am ready.

dancing to maw'ood...

it's winter intensive time. four weeks of two hour sessions in which we are utterly submerged in that little activity we call belly dancing.

before we get our shimmy on, we learn about the music. this piece is a wing dinger. we are dancing to a short, modern section of maw'ood. the original piece isn't for wimps. it's nearly an hour long.

the beauty of the old classics is that they are like symphonies with movements and themes and stories and orchestras. they are meant to transport the audience, to be experiences. these are not three minute, three note wonders. these are bloody intense.

the catch is that they are mostly tragic-real grab your heart and twist it till you pass out from the sadness types.

maw'ood will not disappoint. it's brilliant and beautiful, but horribly sad. here is a link to the lyrics. the short version? i have a crappy track record at love, i'll never be happy, it always ends in crushing devastation, but my heart is optimistic and wants me to try again, i resist, it keeps up the hope, i give in, i meet someone, things start nice, things are awesome.

"the moon rose
and fear withdrew
the wind became warm
and the night listened."

pose and bow. that last little bit is something of ecstasy. that is the dancers version, nice and tidy, wrapped up with proper flourishes for spins and accents. lovely for the stage.

but, that's not how it really ends. that's the saccharine version. the real 55 minute version continues with all of its orchestral and vocal richness.

in the song... she leaves. of course she does. he's crushed. CRUSHED. this is not harry met sally and there is no happy ending. over and over, love sucks the life out of our singer, but he goes back again and again.

this last weekend, i studied the lyrics and listened to the entire long piece a couple of times. i empathized with the song a little too well.

tonight, my teacher, my mentor, performed the choreography we are just beginning to learn to the short tidy dancers' version. she danced beautifully with all the feeling and intensity this song deserves.

i cried. love is hard. it takes incredible guts to try again after failure.

i cried. not only because my teacher is a lovely dancer, but also because i knew that when the song ended, the singer and the dancer would be in the throws of love and ecstasy.

i cried because it would end too soon.