Dear friends …
I'm up later than usual, fretting. My relationship has been breaking down between my "new" employer and me for some time … week by week, it gets worse. I often fear that I am a bad judge of such things, or that I'm over sensitive, or my skin isn't thick enough … but, no … this is just abusive.
On some level, my "new boss" thinks that because she is paying me an outrageous amount of money, she can treat me any way she likes. She is inordinately threatened by me. This morning, she tore me a new asshole for essentially doing my job. Last week, she accused me of almost being late for a meeting (I was 15 minutes early), for parking in the wrong place (I was parked correctly) and for wearing jeans to a business meeting (I was wearing black dress pants). She is paranoid, stressed out beyond my apparent comprehension, and way out of control.
Or like on Monday and Tuesday – she is perfectly normal.
I'm either going to get canned soon for looking at her the wrong way, or I'm just going to walk away. Crazy-making. I have to get out of here and am filled with a surprising amount of fear about that.
I hate feeling like this.
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I'd been worried about my weekend, which was way too carb heavy. Eating out, sandwiches, etc. So I worked hard to manage this and up my water/veggie intake. Still, I was concerned that I'd overdone it. I also missed the Monday check-in … in any case, I guess my compensation worked. I'm down 2.2 lbs since last Friday and have lost 33.25 inches, including a full inch off hips since last Wednesday. Total weight loss to date: 33 lbs.
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So, we open tonight. Very exciting … Usually, this is a time of nervousness but for some reason, it just isn't. After doing this a few times, we've remembered to leave enough time for script edits and revisions. All the sets/props are sourced and in place.
Most importantly, I think there has been a change in me in the past few months. I've let go of something – from the outside, some might call it "control". From the inside, it feels more like "we've all done our best and the performance will be fine, regardless of what unfolds." This is the main lesson of live theatre. You can do all the prep you want, all the rehearsing, all the coaching, memorizing, etc. But, when the lights go down, and then up, you have to trust yourself, the process, smile, and hope for a bit of luck.
Usually, at this point, I have a knot in my gut and a huge list of things to remember to do. Things to remind myself, to remind other people, to check in with at the theatre. My list today has four items on it (three of which I have already finished with) and I feel calm, pleased, and ready to have a GREAT Fundy Boy weekend!! (Esp. the after party … flirting will occur …)
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I bought a purple t-shirt the other night. It has a silvery logo on it from this event – what fun it was to help out with this fabulous evening.
In any case, as I was parading, nay prancing, around in my swank new purple t-shirt, someone said to me, and I quote directly, "The shirt looks great with your silver hair."
OK. The moment of truth has been reached.
On the advice of my hair stylist, I stopped colouring my hair about 2 years ago. I used to throw some (lots) of blonde in, hoping to cover the gray. I was convinced by several friends that the fast-advancing gray is actually attractive, a sort of salt & pepper look, I guess. My sister, 20 years older than me, told me that if her hair had gone gray the way mine was, she would never have started colouring it. I'm not sure what this means, exactly. In any case, she really thinks it looks good and she is one person I can count on to have excellent taste in these matters. So I've left it alone.
I'm assuming that if my hair is now regarded as "silver", then some critical mass of over 50% gray has been reached. The tousled brown locks no more.
I'm not sure how I feel about this. At all.
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This is a very busy time for me. And I'm doing a much better job than usual in the "looking after myself" category.
Case in point: Someone comes by every few weeks to help me clean, just for a couple hours. I hate cleaning so if I keep to this kind of schedule, it will actually happen. This week, I was actually "ready" for her to come by. Rooms had been neatened (except one), linens changed, clutter taken away … so she could actually do her part of the job.
I can't tell you what a treat it has been to have a life as busy as mine and to come home to a neat, clean place. This was a good psychological choice. I hope I remember to make it again in the future!
I don't know if I'll ever get my office in any semblance of order. That is an ongoing battle.
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Which person from your past, whom you've lost touch with, do you wonder about the most?
Submitted by ancora impara.
Inspired by karen …
And I would say …
J (1): You and I were too young to understand. Me to understand my emotions, you to understand the sweet and good place they came from. I get that, it's ok. I apologize for the clumsiness of youth. If you thought about it, I think you'd see something you need to apologize for as well. As always, I wish you well.
J (2): I admired you so much. You were a natural leader and visionary at such a young age. I wish I had your energy around me now.
K from the (Ottawa) Valley: I'd like to know if you still have that cruel streak and how well it has, or has not, served you. You did make me laugh, though.
D (1): It was my choice to disconnect. I'm sorry. Your e-mails got too weird and maniacal. One of them prompted me to call in a panic to see if you were still alive and you acted like nothing at all was wrong. You seemed to have no idea why I was calling. You told me you were alone in the room, and I didn't hear anyone else, so it wasn't like you were trying to put on a cool exterior for others. Your e-mails indicated that you were going to have to leave with nothing but the shirt on your back and your boots on your feet and I was trying to give you a place to go, or to at least make an escape plan. So I had to stop reading those e-mails as I no longer trusted your sense of reality, or your motivation for using my e-mail address as a dumping ground for your paranoid fantasies. Were the in-laws really forcing you to put on rubber boots and wade through the dump to find scrap metal to sell? I thought you had a government job? I called a few more times, checking in, and always the same calm, slightly puzzled, response from you. "I'm fine – why are you worried?"When I wonder about you, I wonder about whether you were (or are) on meds that misfire, or if something in your wiring has just gone wrong, or if you really think my e-mail address was intended exclusively for your creative writing exercises. When I dream about you, I dream about singing. Just me and you and Simon and Garfunkel. Those were some of the sweetest moments and I treasure them. I'm sorry if I've let you down.
D (2): You are at my fingertips, even now. Up to you, buddy … forgiveness and humility wouldn't be such a bad choice. There is warmth and friendship out there under the ruffled feathers, but you have to make a move.
J (3): I know that you understood, on some level, why I had to close the door on our time together. I had to close it very very firmly, knowing that any shaft of light would leave you lingering outside, waiting. And that wouldn't have been fair or right. So I didn't get to say that I really, deeply, enjoyed you. I think of you often and hope you are well.
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This post can be ignored.
This is one of those moments when I just have to get something out to the universe … like popping a zit. Sometimes, you just don't want to watch. So please move on if you like.
There is this woman. She and her partner are neighbours of very dear friends of mine. The four of them, my friends and crazy lady and her partner, struck up a pretty good friendship for a while there, when crazy lady and partner moved into that 'hood. However, as these things do often reveal themselves over time, crazy lady turned out to be, well, crazy.
For a while, we all thought she was cute and entertaining and eccentric. But, no … she is just crazy. Self-absorbed, cruel and nutty. She vents in her blog about the cruelty of others towards her, the endless harms that have been inflicted on her, and her never-ending obsession with her dead husband. One wonders how her partner deals with this as it is really quite the spectacle.
She wrote to me this week to let me know that she has noticed (finally) that I took her name off my link list on my blog here. Actually, I took that link off a few months ago. She noted that it only seems fair if she takes the link to my blog off her page, too. It does not, in any way, break my heart that she has done this. I have not responded to her note.
I monitor her blog ONLY to ensure that she does not slander by name or implication either my friends or me in any of her ravings. In today's monitoring, I learned that she and partner are moving to the 'burbs. Good choice. Don't let the door smack ya on the way out.
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Actually, I was going to title this “How to Smell Good” but I figured that was too much of a set-up for certain readers.
Last week, I changed my Facebook status to reflect that I really was digging how I smelled. I’m sure this may have seemed odd to some. The backstory is this: my massage therapist uses a selection of aromatherapy oils in her practice. Sometimes, a visit with her reminds me of a visit to a top restaurant that has a selection of fine wines. She gestures magnanimously to her impressive collection of bottles and asks me what my pleasure is that day. She often has suggestions based on her own intuition. I just don’t know enough about aromatherapy to really do more than nod and say “ok”, and to veto anything that smells like oranges. I also, and with a twinge of sadness, veto patchouli. Secretly, I adore patchouli. However, you wanna find the lesbian community in North America? Just follow the patchouli. As much as plaid flannel, birkenstocks and/or Blundstones, short hair and short fingernails are the common stereotypes, so is patchouli. Shame, that. I can do all the rest of the “code” but the patchouli is just pushing it too far.
I’ve noticed that I lean towards some combination that involves lavender, something in the woody line (pine, spruce, cedar), and some other “x” factor. Often there are more than three oils on the go. Bergamot is often a fav, clary sage also puts in appearances, as does something I’ve never heard of called vetiver. I go easy on the vetiver because it tends to just put me out flat in a heartbeat, which is terrific on the massage table. Not so good when driving.
Having said all that, I know zero about this. Sort of like art – and wine for that matter. Don’t know much about either, but ah know what ah like.
As a final observation, I have, for years, dabbed on a bit of the Body Shop’s Ylang Ylang massage oil after showering in the a.m. because I like catching a whiff of it during the day.
OK – so, back to last week. I came away from my massage appointment totally digging whatever combination she used that time. Do I remember it? No. Do I know in what proportions she used x or y oil? Nope. All this past week, I’ve really wanted to reproduce that scent. I’m up to the challenge!
Yesterday was designated “time for me” day so I took care of a few personal errands. Took my broken ring into the Craft Guild. Had sushi pizza at the best sushi pizza place next door to the Craft Guild. That feels like cheating without wizzy, but rest assured that yesterday’s was definitely sub-par. Sauntered over to Body Shop on Bloor and smelled every single product and every single essential oil. Came away with Olive Oil Hair Conditioner, a bar of White Musk soap (long story there*), and a tiny thingie called an “atomizer”. Headed over to the “fweep fweep” section of the Danforth which is essential oil heaven. Came away with cedarwood, ylang ylang, and vetiver.
But what to do about proportions? The vetiver is going to calm me to the point of comatose if I use too much. The cedarwood is quite bitter on its own.
Flying by the seat of my pants, on my first attempt, I overdid the cedarwood which I think I can balance with the ylang ylang. (Why does it have the same word repeated? Isn’t ylang descriptive enough on its own?) I’m happy with just having tried. For those of you who see me – or rather, smell me – in person, please do let me know whether I’m way off base, or if just being around me is making you feel comatose too.
*Long Story, Beginning With White Musk
I can remember almost all my “big” relationships by virtue of the scent that the other person wore. This has both good and bad ramifications. Like being in a crowded place and catching a whiff of something and suddenly being irrationally, momentarily, convinced that the person from the past is somewhere in the immediate vicinity. Like being taken on a nostalgic, often pleasant voyage of memory from catching the slightest inkling of a scent. In case you are wondering, here is a olfactory run-down of past relationships, in chronological order.
1. Body Shop White Musk … and, Happy Birthday, btw!
2. Clinique original scent
3. Some expensive French stuff that I can’t remember the name of
4. Body Shop Lime/Coconut – intoxicating, still
5. Patchouli
6. Molton Brown, a British hair product
7. Something clean and fresh smelling, maybe Body Shop Oceana …?
8. Something strong and flowery, kinda over powering. I never did get the name of it.
Actually, I was going to title this "How to Smell Good" but I figured that was too much of a set-up for certain readers.
Last week, I changed my Facebook status to reflect that I really was digging how I smelled. I'm sure this may have seemed odd to some. The backstory is this: my massage therapist uses a selection of aromatherapy oils in her practice. Sometimes, a visit with her reminds me of a visit to a top restaurant that has a selection of fine wines. She gestures magnanimously to her impressive collection of bottles and asks me what my pleasure is that day. She often has suggestions based on her own intuition. I just don't know enough about aromatherapy to really do more than nod and say "ok", and to veto anything that smells like oranges. I also, and with a twinge of sadness, veto patchouli. Secretly, I adore patchouli. However, you wanna find the lesbian community in North America? Just follow the patchouli. As much as plaid flannel, birkenstocks and/or Blundstones, short hair and short fingernails are the common stereotypes, so is patchouli. Shame, that. I can do all the rest of the "code" but the patchouli is just pushing it too far.
I've noticed that I lean towards some combination that involves lavender, something in the woody line (pine, spruce, cedar), and some other "x" factor. Often there are more than three oils on the go. Bergamot is often a fav, clary sage also puts in appearances, as does something I've never heard of called vetiver. I go easy on the vetiver because it tends to just put me out flat in a heartbeat, which is terrific on the massage table. Not so good when driving.
Having said all that, I know zero about this. Sort of like art – and wine for that matter. Don't know much about either, but ah know what ah like.
As a final observation, I have, for years, dabbed on a bit of the Body Shop's Ylang Ylang massage oil after showering in the a.m. because I like catching a whiff of it during the day.
OK – so, back to last week. I came away from my massage appointment totally digging whatever combination she used that time. Do I remember it? No. Do I know in what proportions she used x or y oil? Nope. All this past week, I've really wanted to reproduce that scent. I'm up to the challenge!
Yesterday was designated "time for me" day so I took care of a few personal errands. Took my broken ring into the Craft Guild. Had sushi pizza at the best sushi pizza place next door to the Craft Guild. That feels like cheating without wizzy, but rest assured that yesterday's was definitely sub-par. Sauntered over to Body Shop on Bloor and smelled every single product and every single essential oil. Came away with Olive Oil Hair Conditioner, a bar of White Musk soap (long story there*), and a tiny thingie called an "atomizer". Headed over to the "fweep fweep" section of the Danforth which is essential oil heaven. Came away with cedarwood, ylang ylang, and vetiver.
But what to do about proportions? The vetiver is going to calm me to the point of comatose if I use too much. The cedarwood is quite bitter on its own.
Flying by the seat of my pants, on my first attempt, I overdid the cedarwood which I think I can balance with the ylang ylang. (Why does it have the same word repeated? Isn't ylang descriptive enough on its own?) I'm happy with just having tried. For those of you who see me – or rather, smell me – in person, please do let me know whether I'm way off base, or if just being around me is making you feel comatose too.
*Long Story, Beginning With White Musk
I can remember almost all my "big" relationships by virtue of the scent that the other person wore. This has both good and bad ramifications. Like being in a crowded place and catching a whiff of something and suddenly being irrationally, momentarily, convinced that the person from the past is somewhere in the immediate vicinity. Like being taken on a nostalgic, often pleasant voyage of memory from catching the slightest inkling of a scent. In case you are wondering, here is a olfactory run-down of past relationships, in chronological order.
1. Body Shop White Musk … and, Happy Birthday, btw!
2. Clinique original scent
3. Some expensive French stuff that I can't remember the name of
4. Body Shop Lime/Coconut – intoxicating, still
5. Patchouli
6. Molton Brown, a British hair product
7. Something clean and fresh smelling, maybe Body Shop Oceana …?
8. Something strong and flowery, kinda over powering. I never did get the name of it.
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