Sallyacious

To catch y’all up on my life, since it’s been a while:

I am moving out of my apartment. My lease is up on the 31st of July, and as much as I love it here, it’s too far away from the office and the theatre company and everything else like vets and grocery stores. I’ve found a lovely new place, and as soon as everything is settled, I will tell you all about it. But I’m moving in 3 weeks. So I need to pack. And also clean, since the landlady is showing the place tomorrow afternoon.

We’re remounting After the Fall for Theatre on the Lake. We’ll be performing July 13-17, which means we’re in rehearsals right now, so my evenings are full, nay, well beyond full, with remembering and restaging. Today is my last full day off until the Saturday after we close, which would be July 23, I believe.

My friend Laura of Rhinestone Armadillo is coming to town this next weekend with her handsome husband and the lovely Miss Violet. I cannot wait to see her.

The job is wearing me out. So much intensity, all of the time. It’s like doing the Jazz Festival every week without the music and the week of sleeping after. I am exhausted when I get home, because on top of gogogogo for 8-9 hours every day, I have two hours on the train (that’s both directions, not one way, thank GOD). Fortunately, I have discovered Metra. That knocks my evening commute down to 30 minutes, and until the move happens, I plan to be doing as much of the evening Metra as I can. Getting home before six pm? Is a gift.

I have begun blues dancing. I think I may have written about it here before. Last winter, I briefly dated a sweet guy who reintroduced me to the joys of swing. When we opted to go our separate ways, I didn’t want to stop dancing. I also didn’t want to run into him everywhere, though, and because he’s so much in the swing community–and because it’s sexier and I love the Blues–I decided to go the blues dancing route instead.

I took a couple of months’ worth of lessons in the spring, and then life got in the way–like it does, or maybe that’s only my life–but two (three?) weeks ago, I did a full Saturday of dancing at Blues Fest with CUBE (Chicago Underground Blues Experience) and met such lovely people and learned so much and improved so much in the day of dancing I did there that I realized I don’t want to lose that again. I turn into Pure Joy on the dance floor. I have never had so much fun in my life, and I’m not letting it slip away from me again. So last weekend I went to Bluetopia, which is a monthly blues dance party, and then Saturday night, I went to the Drake Hotel to dance to the Fat Cats (more swing than blues, but ultimately it’s all dancing and I don’t care), and now I’m trying to figure out how to fit as much dancing into my life as possible.

Meanwhile, I have friends in shows and summer is finally here in Chicago and Imogen, the calico, is suddenly an Old Lady Cat who needs extra care and I don’t know how to fit it all into my time without doing what I did last summer which is sleep pretty much not at all. And while I appreciate the dramatic weight loss that results from not sleeping, despite eating like a pig whenever I feel like it, I don’t appreciate the crabbiness and the lack of focus and the mental fog that come with it.

Oh. Did I mention I’m going to a party tonight? I am. It is the 4th of July, after all. So I really need to get stuff done. There’s a long, long list of Things to Do Today, and I have about four hours to do all of them. I have to clean and pack and pack and clean and–

Fuck it. My art supplies are still out, I’m going to paint.

You, I like.

I can think of several reasons no.

And so far, I don’t care.

I’m going to say yes anyway.

Just today I realized that the intensity of feelings you have when you’re younger? That doesn’t diminish. It’s just that your patience increases.

I had an ephiphany the other day. I’d been struggling with the issue for a while, but figuring out what was going on with me took some time because, well, it’s brand new territory.

I’m not in a relationship because I don’t want to be in one.

Oh.

And not in a “Men are pigs/jerks/assholes/insert your own message of hurt here” kind of way. Instead, it’s in a ‘I’m just not ready to take those risks again right now, I still have a lot of work to do on myself and I have a tendency to sacrifice everything for the guy and we’ve seen how well THAT’s turned out for me, maybe I should focus on fixing me instead” kind of way. Because, I could be. With someone. There are some lovely men out there who seem to enjoy my company. But I’ve chosen to touch the earth of romantic relationships very lightly at this moment, and I’m happy with that. Right now.

I was washing dishes, thinking about one fellow in particular, when that thought finally made itself heard. When it landed, I burst into tears, a sure sign that it was truth, because that kind of crying is always about a release of the tension of holding onto a comfortable lie.

As I said, it’s completely unfamiliar territory. I can’t remember EVER not wanting to be in a relationship. Scratch that. I can remember LOTS of being in specific relationships I didn’t want to be in. But wanting to be not in a relationship at all? Nope. I always wanted to belong to someone. I like being in this place, though. It’s taken the pressure off.

Mind you, I’m not saying no to the possibility. Some fellow might sweep me off my feet this evening and be the answer to all of my hopes and dreams. But we will be taking things MUCH more slowly than I ever have before. I am not interested in being broken that badly again. Once was more than enough. And we will be talking. Because I’m also not making THAT mistake again. I want to make entirely new mistakes this next time around. Mistakes that I can only make now because I’ve recognized all of the others and am ready to move onto someting different.

I’m not only turning another page, I’m ready to start work on an entirely new map.

I decided, finally, to make some important and necessary changes.

I was thinking about this as I drove around today, running errands in my Zipcar. (I love Zipcar! They are not paying me to say that, I just love being able to only pay for a car when I need it and to not even think about cars the rest of my life. What a great idea.)

I know I can do anything now. If I managed to come out of 2010 in the shape I did, I can do anything. Anything. I just have to figure out how. So that’s what I was thinking about as I was running my errands. How do I trigger the changes I want to happen in my life? What do I do? What are the first/next steps? And also, can I really do this? Will this endeavor work?

As I waited at a red light, pondering my situation, I saw a bird flying above the treetops and across the road. It was kind of odd looking in flight. Then I realized it was a heron. I haven’t seen a heron in flight in, well, since I moved here. Seeing one is good luck. I know that fortune favors the prepared, and I’m definitely going to be sure I’m ready to seize any opportunity (or day) that comes along. But it was still nice to know that my luck is running, too.

Is a funny thing.

Just now I was looking out my window as a train went past. Seeing the silver cars rumble between the trees, I was reminded of all those days last winter when I watched the trains rush by through the bare branches. All of those cold, grey, sad, difficult days. And I thought of time passing, and of where I am now versus where I was then, and of how in my wildest dreams I would not have expected the year that 2010 turned out to be.

“I’m divorced,” I thought, and laughed. With delight. I repeated the phrase out loud and laughed again. What a surprise. I never expected that thought would make me so happy.

I worked from home today.

This should not surprise any of you. If you’ve been paying attention at all, you know that we got a lot of snow last night. A Lot. Of Snow. So my boss sent me home yesterday with my laptop, and the IT guy made sure before I left that I knew how to access the network, and off I went, in winds high enough that they pushed me sideways along the sidewalk as I waited for the light to change.

Later, I had pizza, which required struggling through drifts and braving the gusts and stinging snow as I made my way to the awesome Italian restaurant and back. I watched the snow pile up on the windowsills and enjoyed the thundersnow. (A snowstorm with thunder and lightning? AWESOME. I’m not sure weather gets better than that.) I thanked my lucky stars that my power and heat stayed on (even when my internet went) and prayed that I’d feel justified in staying home today.

The internet was available again when I got up, and except for a series of hiccoughs as I tried to get access to my wireless router, it was a fairly uneventful workday. I had apple crisp for breakfast. I made bacon and eggs and slightly burnt biscuits (accidental) for lunch/dinner. I worked for over nine hours on the stuff I needed to do for work. I was THRILLED to close the one laptop and focus on the other so I could watch Groundhog Day. Because why wouldn’t I, on today of all days?

I snuggled with the Girls. I took the trash out the front door (2′ drifts are keeping my door closed in the back), and waded through 3 1/2′ and 4′ drifts in the alley. I stayed warm. I struggled with a cold. I chatted with a couple of friends on Facebook. Mostly, though, I worked. From 8am until 20 minutes to six or so. I had a lot of stuff to do, and it was all quite time consuming. Overall, however, it was a good day, if a somewhat lonely one.

I did discover something. Or reaffirm something. Yes, the latter, because I already knew it was an issue for me. I need to move closer in. I love my apartment. Very much. It’s a great space, light and comfortable. I like that it’s shielded by trees on both sides in summer, but that they drop all of their leaves in the winter to bring in more light. I love where I live, the shops, the people, the distance from the lake. My landlady is awesome. My neighbors are cool.

But.

I cannot express how lovely it was to just get up and start working. How lovely it was to wander into the kitchen and make myself some food instead of having to go elsewhere for something hot and fresh. How much I enjoyed being home already when I was finished with work. In other words, I really love my apartment, my neighborhood. But I really, REALLY hate my commute. Hate.

I want to be able to walk to work in the morning. I want to be able to go home at night before classes or rehearsals and make myself dinner and see the Girls and change my clothes. I want to maybe sometimes go home for lunch. Even if it’s a 20-minute walk each way, which means that I only get 20 minutes at home, because it would be MY time and MY space and some days I really need that.

Actually working from home was kind of a pain, because I didn’t have everything I needed. I couldn’t print test copies of things before sending them off. I missed my keyboard and my mouse; the keyboard and mouse button on my laptop just don’t quite cut it. Fielding and tracking emails from people who were all over the city instead of in the same space as me was quite a challenge as well. It took me hours to accomplish a task that should have taken 1/3 the time. So without some serious changes in how I do things, I wouldn’t want to work from home on a regular basis.

But I want very much to work near home, as it turns out. I want that very much. Now I just need to figure out how to make that happen.

I think I’m pretty awesome.

Yes, I know that sounds conceited, but hear me out.

I’m a pretty good catch. I’m smart (wicked smart, says at least one of my co-workers, and she’s no slouch herself), self-sufficient and fiscally responsible. I’m not clingy. I’m nice. I’ll let you be your own person, but I’ll stand by you. I believe in honesty and compassion and speaking your truth. I’ll do almost anything for my friends. I’m passionate and committed and hardworking and driven. I have a lot of curiosity and an active imagination. I’m kind of funny. I’ve got a solid color sense and an eye for beauty. I know how to create a peaceful, comfortable living space. I can write and speak well. I’m not ugly. I think love is one of those things that you get more of the more you spread it around. I accept my fellow humans where they are, but I don’t take on other people’s shit. I love to laugh. I’m working hard to figure out who I am. I make/find my own happiness.

Of course I have my faults. I get obsessive about stupid things. I worry (a lot). I don’t like to vacuum (or dust). I can be tremendously stubborn. I have some serious insecurities. I have a terrible temper once it’s finally roused. And I can probably outshout you. But all of that is outweighed, I think, by the stuff in the paragraph above. It doesn’t mean I won’t drive a partner crazy some days, just that there will be fewer of those than there will be days of awesome.

I’m not actively searching for a partner. (As I told a friend just now on the phone, that strikes me as being the opposite of “not clingy.”) But I’m letting the universe know that I’d like one. I think I’m ready. Though he’s going to need to be patient as I make sure that I actually am ready. I think that may have been one of the issues with the last guy. By the time I’d decided I was (and was brave enough to say something), he’d already moved on. Since this whole situation only began in mid-December, I hardly think I was moving slowly, but apparently he didn’t really mean it when he said that’s what he wanted.

In the meantime, I’m going to take to heart something my friend Heather texted me last night:

Goodnight Sally. You are awesome and not just any guy deserves you. We have to find a really special one.

Oh. Make sure to add this to the first paragraph: Lucky. I am tremendously lucky to have friends like her.

He was gracious enough to call. I knew he was a nice guy.
A nice guy who found someone else.
Isn’t that always the way?

(By the way, I don’t regret a thing. I have had such a sense of peace since I made that call. It taught me something important. I’m going to try to avoid the bullshit from here on out and work harder to speak my truth when the need arises.)

At least I’m learning.

Dating situation. Difficult to interpret what’s happening. Silences on both sides, real or imaginary? My malfunctioning–now replaced–cell phone added to the uncertainty. Even when I thought I’d made peace with whatever was happening, I still felt unsettled, jumpy, frustrated.

And then, just this morning, just now, I was thinking about the parts of the situation that make me crazy and I thought, it’s all of this dancing around the subject bullshit. I hate this part of dating. I hate not being able to say what I think and to speak my mind because I’m worrying about whether that will chase the guy away. And then I thought, if those things chase the guy away, I don’t want to be in the situation anyhow. (Revolutionary idea, I know, but I’m a slow learner sometimes.)

Of course I’m upset and unsettled. I’m not being true to myself. I don’t want to rush into anything, but I do need to let the poor man know what I want and how I feel and where I stand. For all I know, he’s struggling and unclear too.

As soon as I realized that here was yet another unclaimed space in my life and that I need to make it my own, I started to cry. Something I’d been holding onto tightly unlocked and the tears flowed. Turns out I have nothing to lose except pride. If claiming my space and speaking my truth sends the guy running in the opposite direction, then it was already destined to end. Better to know for myself where I stand and what I want. If I can’t be honest with someone about that, what am I doing with them anyway?

Let’s face it. In the last 12 months, I’ve done harder things than let a boy know I really, really like him and that I want to spend more time with him.

So this afternoon I will be doing just that. Wish me luck. In whatever way that manifests.