I’m asked that a lot. Like a lot a lot. From friends, from co-workers, from friends’ co-workers, from siblings, like everyone. I get it. I’m a 35-year-old waitress. And I have a spiel to go with it. I’m an actress, improviser, writer, blogger, beauty consultant, volunteer and I’m going back to school in January. I must justify. JUSTIFY it almost weekly.
In fact, in all honesty, in heaps of shame, I would not date myself. If I saw me on Tinder, I’d swipe left because who at my age (my ripe old age) is a waitress (I’m working on this)? On paper, I’m the Dallas Cowboys. The worst bet in history. But paper, from what I’ve discovered first hand, it’s the best illusion created. I dated paper. In fact, if you asked me two years ago what I was doing with my life… actually you wouldn’t ask me. You’d know given my amazing job, my location, my relationship status, my creative endeavors you’d know that I was doing just fine. But tonight, at 2am, I’m drinking a whiskey and writing about the night that lead up to now. And I don’t have to get up until 3pm. Truth is, I’ll wake up in 6 hours and work all day long. But I’m drinking whiskey and listing to Ed Sheeran. Life. Fuck it.
But life… life is tricky. We’ve all seen The Family Man starring Nic Cage. “A fast-lane investment broker, offered the opportunity to see how the other half lives, wakes up to find that his sports car and girlfriend have become a mini-van and wife.” THE HORROR!!! Gah, what would happen if we didn’t have all the comforts of … money, security? I don’t know… this? You’d do what I’m doing now. You’d start over from the beginning and try again. Often the best bets are made when we don’t pass Go. When we don’t get to to collect $200. We must try again because sometimes Baltic Avenue is the BEST place to park a hotel.
What I’m planting, what I’m aspiring to do, I don’t know if or what will pan out. Sure I could have gotten a job, a normal job and sat behind a desk to have the illusion of security or establishment. I could date that guy and pretended to make sense to you but truth is, Id’ go crazy trying to fit into your idea. I’ve planted thousand of seeds and see them sprouting at different rates and some not at all. But I’d rather risk and fail than to have not risked at all. So basically I’m betting it all on black. Or the Dallas Cowboys. Because even if it doesn’t pay off, OR GOD WILLING IT DOES, i’ll either be a master genius or I’ll be right where I am right now, trying to figure it all out.
I’m absolutely humbled to be where I am in life but am endlessly grateful to be here at all. I am blessed with any opportunity I’m given. It’s not the best life, but it’s my life and I will make it fantastic because if you’ve met me you know fantastic is all I do!! Drops mic, walks out.
Why do you hate me? I rescued you from Home Depot and brought you to my beautiful art-filled charming apartment!! I got you a new pot, bathed you in sunlight (or moderate sunlight depending) fed you, named you, loved you. And just like all the other plants in my life, you want none of it. Barbara Streisand (my lovely purple and green ivy) hated my apartment. She couldn’t stand the desk top or the floor to the lovely corner in my living. SO… I threw her outside. I neglected her. I refused to water her, never spoke to her, hardly even remember she was out there. I played hard to get! But guess who’s suddenly making a comeback from my patio? Ya, BABS!!! She’s thriving basking in the sunlight and rain making a mockery of my green thumb. Truthfully plants, this feels like dating. OVER IT!!
I care. I’ll admit. I care!! I wish I didn’t because caring is the reason I’ve had my heart-broken 6-8 times this year. I’ve stopped counting. So ladies, I’m here to admit that I make a horrible horrible honey badger!
My sister on the other hand is the ULTIMATE honey badger!! She even has a saying for not giving a fuck when someone is annoying her, “CARE!” And she means it, hardcore. She can’t even be bothered to say “I don’t” in front of the care, it’s just “CARE!” She’ll say this to your face, to your back, to your friends, to your dog. She will straight up “bye Felicia” you and walk away and really truly never look back. When it comes to men, she’ll wave down a handsome stranger at a bar and invite him to sit with her and THEY ALL DO! She’ll never utter a word to a man yet pass him a note across the bar then wave and join her friends. Sooner or later, he’ll always make his way to her table. Because ladies she is a real honey badger!! She doesn’t give a shit. And she never has. **
Is it confidence, bravery, something other-worldly? I don’t know because I don’t have it. I don’t have an ounce of it. I’m the girl who sees a cute guy and trips. Ask Channing Tatum if you ever run into him. I’m the girl who knocks off the glass of ice water or runs into the trash can. I’m the girl who will take a sip of my wine very cool like and spill it down the front of my white dress. I’m the girl who will make jokes at my own expense because there are plenty to be made. I’m a walking sitcom. I care too much about what someone else will think, or how I’ll be perceived, or rather or not someone is going to like me. When the truth is, if they don’t like you, well, CARE!! There are many others who will and probably more who won’t. It’s the crap shoot of life.
However, the older I get the more and more pages I take from my sisters book of “how not to..” Frankly, life is too short to care that much. I attribute it to being a very sensitive artist. Or just sensitive perhaps (I like blaming a LOT on being an artist if you haven’t noticed). If you look at me wrong I’ll wonder for days what I did to piss you off. My sister will slap you and take a nap. If you don’t call me, I’ll again wonder for days what I said or did. My sister will just delete your number from her phone and make a sandwich. She will stop taking your calls and texts. I, on the other hand, am learning the fine art of being silent and caring less (truth be told, I’ll respond to all your calls and texts, I’m a glutton for punishment). Or… perhaps just valuing myself more and that is simply what I think it comes down to.
My sister has dealt with so much in her life that she gets it. How much we value ourselves, our time, and our hearts is in direct relation to what we accept and expect of others. This value theme is something I’ve been discussing a lot with my therapist lately. Taking care of my heart has never been my priority until now and while I am working on it I keep thinking of the original honey badger, my sister. My LITTLE sister. It’s a process but I feel like I’m finally finally taking the right steps to care less because my time matters and my feelings matter and in the grand scheme of life neither can be or should be taken for granted. So I write. I distract myself with the things and people I do love and who love me. And I keep working on “playing it cool.” And then I say something really dumb but ya know, growing spurts!
**Although my sister is the poster child for all things honey badgers, she is without a doubt the most generous, loving person you’ll ever meet. And if you get a chance to be her friend, she’ll be your friend for life. Until you’re dumb then she ain’t got no time for that.
When your friend goes to confession and is told to pray 44 Hail Mary’s you know that a) she sins a LOT and b) she’s probably having a lot of fun! I even mused “Was your last confession just a confession that you’re gonna do it all over again this weekend?” Yes, obviously!
But sex is a huge hot button issue especially for Catholics: sex with your non-wedded partner, same-sex sex, sex with your friend, sex with your co-worker, sex with a friend’s husband, sex with yourself, sex with your table (there are a LOT of very weird fetishes out there friends), sex while ovulating, sex while not ovulating, safe sex, rough sex, paid for sex, oral sex, sexy sex, the sex list goes on and on. And we’ve been doing it long before anyone ever told us it was sinful, or regretful. Sex has been happening since before humans were even humans. We just made it into a thing.
Last summer while I was traveling through Italy, I took a tour of the ancient city of Pompeii. Built around 300BC, this very “high-tech” city boasted indoor plumbing, running water, heated flooring, a local wine shop, bakery, housing, court of law, two-story homes and a plethora of brothels. Long story short, Mount Vesuvius erupts covering the town of 20,000 people under 20 feet of volcanic ash. For 1500 years Pompeii remained a hidden gem. It was initially discovered in 1599, however excavation didn’t begin until 1748. In truth, it’s still being excavated even as we speak.
Before I get ahead of myself regarding how amazing, brilliant, wise, resourceful, creative the Romans were, let’s get back to sex. The brothels specifically. Each brothel is marked with a giant penis above the door because truthfully, let’s call a spade a spade. No shame. No one knew they were suppose to be ashamed of sex 2000 years ago (ok, it’s possible they did know but the Romans we just a bunch of honeybadgers). Inside a menu of sorts was painted onto the walls so men could essentially order whatever sex they liked. And people, sex is sex is sex. It’s been, basically, the same-sex since the beginning. Each room was outfitted with a big enough bed and that was just about it. The rooms in this brothel were roughly the same size as all the windows/rooms currently in the red light district. Not much has changed. Except our ideas of it.
Let me tell you this regarding sex, I never in a million years thought my mother would be comfortable mailing me her copy of 50 Shades of Grey (I immediately read and frantically ran all over NYC looking for the next two books within 5 days) but she reasoned that because I was in a relationship, I might want to…ya know. I can’t even you guys!
And here’s something we all know and as women deal with on a daily basis: men, for whatever-the-f*ck reason are allowed to be promiscuous without incident and in fact, it’s often encouraged. Women on the other hand… I don’t even need to say it. Evolutionarily speaking, women have much much muchhigher stakes in choosing a sex partner because GOD FORBID (or God willing depending which side of the aisle you’re on) you get pregnant. Regardless of rather or not you’re married, we need to determine things like a) is this guy gonna show up at 3am? b) will he help with bottles, diapers, love? c) will he hopefully not judge my ever-expanding body? d) is he going to murder me one day? or e) is he going to be an absent father who just watches tv all day? But the catch! There’s always a catch. We’ve, as females/ladies/independent women, have evolved into a world where we don’t always want to have kids but sex… I mean, sex! Why can’t we just have sex and then decide, as adults, when we want to procreate? We have plenty of birth control options available to us but the stigma of “slut” still remains. Science gets it!! Why can’t society realize that our desire to be loved, or be touched, or be held doesn’t always have to end in a 8 pound watermelon flying out of our vaginas 9 months later. Let’s just all calm down a minute., okay??
The flip side of all of that, according to the fascinating documentary The Science of Sex Appeal, is that no matter WHAT, our evolutionary desire to have children, rather you know it or not, is always one step ahead of you. When you’re ovulating your voice becomes sexier, you walk sexier, you actually smell, look and taste different, and girl, on top of all that YOU KNOW IT! Notice when you get catcalled the most or when you most desire to roll in ze hey, it’s all natures big trick to knock you up. At 35 I started tracking like a demon my ovulation chart and sure enough, science!
How many times you’ll hit snooze. For me, several. I’m working on the art of waking up because it is certainly an art.
Your ability to mask the faint smell on whiskey still on your breath.
Are we showering today? We’re definitely not shaving our legs!
Today feels like a red lipstick all day sorta day.
Just wear the sexy dress already.
Heels or flats? Heels, zero fucks.
Bacon or granola?!? BACON!
Am I going to work or check Facebook first?
How many times will I check out _____’s page?
Nope, not drying my hair.
I will make my bed however. Never know when you’ll have a last minute guest.
I will juice because it’s delicious albeit time consuming.
Are we working out today?
Working?
Playing?
Drinking?
How many “news” articles you’ll read compared to how many Buzzfeed quizzes you’ll take.
Today you are definitely going to do all your check off your to-do list.
Exactly how loud you’ll sing in the car.
You’re gonna try like hell to drink 80oz of water.
If you’ll go down the rabbit hole of disappointments.
And how you’ll pick yourself back up.
And you’ll be kinder to yourself.
And you’ll probably watch at least one rerun of Friends.
Then you’ll brush your teeth and go to bed because you aren’t a gross human being.
And tomorrow, tomorrow is another day to do it all over again: to make better mistakes or dumber choices, to slack, to strive, to conquer, to control, to love, to fight, to grow, to medicate, to cry, to be bolder and wiser. To be fearless.
Meditate. Seriously. Do it at home, do it in public. Just do it. Stop thinking. Pretend you’re Elizabeth Gilbert and this is your Eat, Pray, Love. NOW PRAY!
Someone is always judging you. Even right now. Someone wiser than me said some variation of this one time: What people think of you isn’t your flaw, it’s theirs.
Say yes. Just say yes to whatever and be spontaneous especially if you’re tired and have work to do. Say yes to one more glass, to dessert, to that date, to that vacation. Say yes!
Remember you’re just one person on a huge planet in a galaxy with many other planets in a universe with many many galaxies in a solar system with many many universes. PANIC ATTACK, WE’RE TINY!
Do something that scares you. Share your feelings, take that trip, sign up for that class, swim with sharks. Scare yourself.
If you are reading this, it means you have internet which means you’re doing better than most of the world. You’re grateful.
Expectations are the right hand of disappointment. Stop having them and just let the moment be extraordinary!
Remember that you’re going to die. TRUTH. Sorry not sorry!
Stop playing games with yourself and others. (unless they are fun ones like Cards Against Humanity)
Remember what is important. And what isn’t. And maybe ask yourself, will this matter is 5 days, 5 months, 5 years? Pretty sure we can just not give a fuck about that.
Life doesn’t turn out how you like. NBD! So like a normal person you quit your job of 10 years, break up with your boyfriend of 6 years, travel to Europe for 2 months, pack all your belongings and move south. To Texas. To Austin specifically from NYC. How much different can it really be? Oh girl….
I felt the early rumblings of change a year before I … wait… 6 months after my boyfriend of 3 years moved to NYC from Las Vegas, I knew something wasn’t quite right. We kept having the same conversation slash fight slash plead and just to spare you from the same lugubrious conversation I could probably recite from memory, sometimes a man moves in and all the ugly details come to surface. So let’s just fast forward 3 more years because truthfully, I stayed. Whatever issues there were, or weren’t, I stayed and tried and fought and in the end failed. Or dodged a bullet. Depends which day you’re asking. Bang bang. (pffffff) <– that’ me blowing off the gun powder, fyi.
Change doesn’t happen overnight. A friend’s aunt sent her a beautiful thought on change I’d like to share with you: Shifting comes in a myriad of shapes and sizes. Sometimes seismic where in a blink what was to be is tumbled and twirled, reshaped and reformed, lost and found- and within a moment things are new. More often though the experience is incremental- the self in a lowly 360 degree dance of perception- picking and choosing, resisting and accepting, adjusting and evolving- everything on display until one comes full circle and is redone. It seems this time you might be within the dance and the best advice is always to simply enjoy the view. There is always a multitude on display.
They say the only constant thing in life is change. Pushing back against change leaves you stale, stagnant, incapable of growth and expansion. Change is hard, don’t get me wrong. Walking away from people, places, comfort and the old ways of doing things is downright impossible for many people my ex included. His fear of the great unknown was bigger than the two of us combined. His fear was so great he was willing and capable of letting me walk out the door because leaving his comfort in the material world was harder than leaving his comfort in matters of the heart. For me, staying, losing myself and discovering what could have been was scarier than walking away and discovering something new. However I find little to no comfort in the material world and when I’m in a state of change, material things are the first things I clear out. I need to declutter and reorganize and make space for the things I want, for the things I desire rather they be love or purpose or companionship. In the last few months of my relationship with, his discomfort toward change drove him to purchase and fill the space that was missing in our connection. We were just driven by extremely different versions of change. I, however, think his drive was misguided.
I first started looking around my life and asking; what is the most important to me right now, what do I need in my life at this moment, who are the people I value that add inspiration to my life, how many pairs of heels do I really need, how many books, how many candles. I slowly started sifting through it all and filling bags and bags of my old life to be shipped off. The “stuff” was suffocating me in my panic to discover what the change moving through me was specifically. The “stuff” hid the transition. The “stuff” took my attention from my intention. It all had to go (all is ambitious, I’ll admit).
While this transition was happening in my life, it was also happening in my heart. I became happy for possibly the first real time in my life. Funny, isn’t it, how in the depths of change, confusion and transition happiness appears and informs all? And I changed. I am the reason the relationship did not continue. I became a better, different, newer person and that person desired more, craved a bigger love, a more fulfilled life. And I refuse to ever feel guilty about that! I would never say that I was settling for anything previously. Despite how my relationship turned out, I still think my ex is a great person who is capable of many amazing things and who will, probably much sooner than I, find that person who fits. However, his reluctance to change and my embrace of change clashed dynamically.
The hope I’ve found in love, or the one I imagine I will find in my next relationship, is to fall in love with someone you can positively change with in a constant evolution of humanity and heart. I imagine falling in love with someone who encourages that, inspires forward motion, motivates me beyond my wildest imagination. Once you find someone who makes you feel the impossible is possible, then change is welcomed and embraced without reason. Because anything, literally, anything is possible. All the good and all the bad, of course, but you never know the magic that is waiting for you until you jump. And by that I mean yes in love but also in life, in your heart, in your desire, in your efforts, in your intentions. Jump!
While I sit still in the throes of adjustment and reflect on how I’ve continued changing or morphing into the person I am today but will probably not be tomorrow, I have certainly learned that although this life isn’t perfect, it’s my life and it’s the only one I get. If I’m not taking care of myself, I’m doing an huge injustice to my heart and soul. I must keep pushing forward and being curious to all that is out there.
Love! Death! GLITTER!!! 