Almost Famous For Almost A Day

Recently I've been hanging out with this woman I met at work and if you heard me talk about her you'd think I was obsessed with her...because I kinda am (in the most platonic, non stalker way possible). I wish I could give you a logical reason why but logic and I have never been friends... Me being me, it doesn't hurt that she has a voice like a Disney Princess (this hadn't occurred to me until my friend Dolo pointed it out but now I can't un-hear it and, as such, I'm addicted to listening to her talk), she's absolutely in love with the color pink (further Disney Princess vibes), goes out of her way to make people feel special (she's a self described people pleaser, an affliction from which I also suffer) and is just genuinely...awesome. So am I telling you this because I want the world to know how amazing Lavender is? No (okay maybe), I'm telling you because my "obsession" with Lavender reminds me of someone who seems to find me as fascinating as I do her; Patrick. Patrick is one of my cousin Teri's closest friends, who is married to one of her other very close friends Sara (not to be confused with her best friend and "twin" Sarah, that part of the family seems to have a thing where the important people in their lives all share a name). In addition to being a firefighter and father of two, Patrick is funny and outgoing and, for reasons known only to himself, reads this blog religiously. To the point that he's annoyed that I don't post more often! I love it. Despite my random ramblings about whatever trivial thing is on my mind, Patrick reads my musings faithfully. (I don't even know how he found this blog). As a result, I feel like a celebrity with a massive fan base (of exactly one). He knows my birthday and seems to follow up on my (usually uneventful) life. So, how do I say thank you to my number one fan? Well, today is his birthday so I figured it was the perfect opportunity to let him know how much I appreciate his readership and his presence in my life. HAPPY BIRTHDAY PATRICK!!!! This post is dedicated to you!

What I Think is For All Time is Momentary...

Or reason #2,990,786 why cats are easier than people. So I'm at work listening to three of my co-workers talk about getting wasted in the the city a few weekends ago and I have two thoughts; 1. thank God I wasn't invited. 2. Why wasn't I invited. These are women I've hung out with several times before so why didn't they ask me if I wanted to go get drunk in the city? Despite typing that I feel the need to point out that NO PART OF ME WANTS TO GET DRUNK IN THE CITY. Or anywhere else for that matter but, unfortunatly, my brain does a thing whenever I see people doing things without me where it attaches absurd meaning to what I logically know is (likely) meaningless. It goes like this: People I'm friends with do something without me (to be clear, this only applies to situations in which I wasn't invited, not times when I was invited but couldn't/didn't want to go). I ask myself why I wasn't invited (regardless of whether I would have actually wanted to go). I come up with logical reasons as to why I wasn't invited. I throw those reasons out the window, instead working myself into a frenzy about how my friends don't really like me. Why do I do this, you ask? Well as soon as I figure it out, I'll post an update. The simple fact is, I've been doing this my entire life. Sometimes I think I spend more time anticipating the end of friendships than enjoying them. No wonder I like cats better than people; the only thing I have to worry about with Carbon (current cat) is keeping her off the counter. And figuring out what food she feels like eating today. And why the hell she's meowing at me (What. Does. She. Want???). And taking her for walks (yes, I walk my cat. On a pink leash). And, And...oh well, still easier than humans.

The trouble with expansion

I find myself planning out one of the sessions of my latest class, picturing the various activities in my mind, getting more and more excited and then...bam! I remember I'm not going to actually get to see any of it because I'm not going to be there; I don't teach my own classes anymore. Oh sure, Arizona (yea, like the state but I prefer to think of it in Ma Barker, the leader of a notorious gang, whose real name was Arizona (though she went by Kate) will take pics/video but it's not the same and it's at this moment that I realize the down side to expanding. I've always had fantasies of expanding Writing Rainbow to other states, hell, even other countries and, of course I knew this meant that the day was coming when I would have to hand my classes over to someone else, but, somehow, it hadn't dawned on me that that would mean, I would miss out on the fun in real time. For nearly a decade (7 years) Writing Rainbow has been the princess Mar-li show, running on sprinkles, ice magic, and God's grace, and suddenly there's this other person around for me to manage (a seriously scary thought in and of itself). Now, in addition to planning the classes, gathering the supplies, and running laps to White Plains to get them to Arizona, my time (and more than a little energy) is spent wondering how my staff (assuming the number of employees doesn't stop at one) will dress for classes (mainly, I'm trying to decide if I can "encourage" them to dress like a Disney Princess, even though I don't actually want them to do that; cause that's my thing 🙃), whether they'll be on time, and keeping track of hours worked; you know, like an adult running a business. I don't remember signing up for that, I signed up to have parties featuring awesome laser light shows and actually experience them in real time wearing incredibly fabulous dresses (see attached pic), not be somebody's boss! Ugh! who left me in charge?

Perhaps Arrested Development Isn't A Bad Thing....

It has been brought to my attention that I am somewhat...immature for my age. Repeatedly. I like pastels. There's a pink tulle canopy over my bed (which is currently sporting ice cream bed sheets). I still buy an advent calendar; the cardboard kind with cheap chocolate. So I guess all the rumors are true, I am my inner child but....so what??? Society makes a big deal about "growing up" and "acting your age" (At least they claim to, in actuality, there seems to be an ever increasing amount of people who are perfectly content to go around acting like toddlers) but...why? Yeah, yeah, yeah you have to reach a point in your life where you're responsible for yourself; go to work, pay bills yada, yada, yada but, assuming you're doing all that (or at least trying your damndest) why does the rest matter? I've covered this before but it bears repeating because not only do I not see the big deal about liking pigtails and Frozen in my 40s, I actually think my "arrested development" has helped me at times. I recieved a gift bag yesterday from the parent of a student who is moving up to the next classroom which included a beautiful card (also a paper tiara) thanking me for chatting about princesses with their daughter, saying that these conversations made her day on several occasions. Wonderful but I didn't have those conversations with her because I somehow sensed that I needed to "make her day", I did it because I like to talk about princesses (because I am one, duh!). I believe Writing Rainbow has performed beyond my expectations in large part because I've poured my whole self into it; the writing, the tiaras, the (not so) inner child, it's all there for anyone who interacts with Writing Rainbow to see. The way I see it, there are upsides to my "childlike demeanor" some of which are as follows: *Children see me as a bigger version of them (accurate), allowing for better comradery with my students. *Other adults seem easily impressed by me (probably because they think anyone willing to wear Disney dresses in public couldn't possibly be capable of functioning) which has worked to my advantage on several occasions. *I tend not to judge others (at least not for appearing "abnormal"), as I know exactly what it feels like to be judged for being unconventional. *I have an ability to get along with a wide array of people. To that effect my range of friends span several decades; the oldest is 80 (former HS history teacher), the youngest is 24 and I believe I'm a better person for knowing them both. Both have and continue to teach me things about myself. This is apparently confusing to some. I've been asked "How can you be friends with someone so much older/younger?" Simple. I'm ageless. I know music from the 70s. I can have an entire conversation using mainly emojis (I'm not saying I enjoy or even understand why this occurs, I'm just saying I can do it). Of course there are some drawbacks: Sometimes I miss social cues, resulting in awkward and painful situations that were likely avoidable if I were developmentally where I'm "supposed" to be. I have been ridiculed more than a few times for "dressing like a 10-year old." To that effect, people feel the need to remind me I'm an adult, as if having reached middle age with very little to show for it isn't enough of a reminder. The point is, I'm profoundly different from a lot (most?) people. I've known that my entire life (also, people have been telling me as much for about as long) but honestly? Who cares? So long as I'm making progress, why shouldn't I do it in an Elsa dress? Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a tiara on Amazon I simply have to have...

Must love Taylor

Last week at work one of the kids wore a shirt that said "Little Swiftie" and it made my day (not the least of which is because my boss litteraly yelled at me for calling her that the day before). By sheer coincidence she was also the last kid to leave so we did the only longical thing; Taylor Swift dance party! As a result I now have a playlist consisting exclusively of Taylor Swift songs named after her and it made me wonder, can I hire someone because they're a Taylor Swift fan? The reason I ask is, somehow Writing Rainbow has reached the point where I'm ready to hire my first employee (I think). Turns out I, in fact, cannot be everywhere at once. Add to that my boss making it increasingly difficult to teach my classes at all (due to randomly taking away my early day), and, apparently, it's time for Writing Rainbow to be more that a one princess show (just kidding, I will always be the only princess). So, how the hell do I do this? What am I looking for in an employee? Unfortunately, I have no idea. I'm pretty sure the idea is to establish some core criteria; such as Taylor Swift songs. I myself don't have an "official" favorite Taylor song but the playlist on my phone that I listen to before most classes is called Long Live so let's start there. And then there's Anti-Hero because, just as often as not, I am indeed the problem (but I'm not sure I'd want an employee to agree with me so nevermind that one). Overall, anyone joining the Writing Rainbow team should (obviously) like children...or at least be able to tolerate them convincingly, be creative, probably a little unconventional, and...honestly...what? Ugh, why is being a grown up so hard? (I seem to ask this a lot). Why can't I just pick someone based on fun things; love of glitter, cats, Disney, and, of course, Taylor Swift.

Whatever, I'm Getting Cheese Fries

Oh to be young again; to experience the thrill of a night out. To feel the bass pulsating through you as you push your way through the crowd, overpriced drink spilling all over you (and everyone else) is...insanity. What about this am I supposed to enjoy again? These days my ideal night out is a coconut margarita (or two or three) at my local Mexican place and the only reason to push my way through a crowd is to get home to my cat. So it went one night in Mystic, CT... My cousin Teri is getting married and, as such, a group of us ladies dutifully trooped to that mecca for bachelorette parties...Mystic, CT. Now, a sleepy coastal town doesn't seem like the place to find a raucous party, but there we were. All the aformentioned tomfoolery expected at an event that is supposed to symbolize a woman's last chance at freedom (or whatever, I was in it for the shiny pink swag bag) was present and accounted for on our night on the town; with a drunk Rapunzel wannabe (ugh, seriously, there's only room for one real life Disney Princess lady; and I already have the job) thrown in as a bonus! So, what to do when you realize you're more vanilla bean than rocky road? Grab ice cream and run for the hills of course! Which is exactly what happened. Except the "ice cream" was cheese fries (which is interesting considering of the three people involved, one is allergic to dairy and another (me) hates cheese with a passion) which became the deciding factor in ditching a night of debauchery (or what passes for it in a sleepy coastal town) for a Crime Scene Kitchen (new TV obsession) marathon. It goes something like this: Me: "Yea clubbing! What fun!!" Person One: "Yeah. What fun?" Me: "No idea. My idea of fun is Crime Scene Kitchen. But what do I know, I'm 40. I'm Old." Person Two: "What's Crime Scene Kitchen?" Me: "Best show ever! Plus, no drunkin Rapunzel doing a Willow Smith impresson to deal with!" Person One: "That's worth the price of admission alone." Person Two: "Are there cheese fries?" Me: "Would you like it if there were cheese fries?" Yes, she would very much like it if there were cheese fries (she literaly had a shirt that said so). And so it went that we traded carousing for cheese fries. And Crime Scene Kitchen. And Quiet.

What Else Can I Do?

What could I do if I just did what I was feeling in the moment; what could I do if I just knew it didn't need to be perfect... Oh how glad I am that I have song lyrics to do my thinking for me... Actually, I've never felt the need to be perfect (this should be obvious to anyone whose known me for more than 2.5 seconds) but that doesn't mean I've been content either (this shouldn't be breaking news either). Until recently. (Okay, content is a stretch). While I've never felt the need to be perfect I have felt the need to...abide by a certain standard; My familys' (sometimes real, sometimes imagined), the standard implied by arbitrary numbers (what does the number of candles on my birthday cake have to do with my style choices??), and a whole host of other random "rules" imposed by...whomever. This line of thinking led to a lot of things, none of them good, until something compltetly unexpected happened; I stopped thinking and stared doing. Or, more to the point, I stopped thinking about things from "everybody else's" perspective (more or less) and started thinking about them from my own. I'm six years into Writing Rainbow, a feat that has required a good amount of ingenuity and sacrifice, one of which was waiting a year for full time status at my job when it was offered to me immediately. Why, you ask, would someone who, by her own admission, has been desperate for a stable work situation not jump at the chance for full time employment when offered? Well I asked myself the same question but I knew the answer before I did so. Full time would't allow me the flexibility to run Writing Rainbow the way I wanted. Still did it make sense to forgo a steady, full time position for something that lives yet to become a full fledged business? It did to me. It turned out to be the right move and, a year later (actually 11 months for anyone keeping score) when I was again offered full time it felt right to take it. Now, most of this probably seems unremarkable, as it should; there is absolutely nothing noteworthy about a middle-aged woman making basic decisions about her own life. It's like saying you went for a walk in the forest and came home with a mosquito bite; duh. But when you're stumbling through the woods and the shadowy figure you just ran from turns out to be a tree, it's still a relief. And that is exactly what I feel like I've been doing until recently, stumbling though an unusually thick forest, tripping over branches. Which isn't to say I'm not now, it't just that nowadays I tend to catch myself more often. In the last year + I've turned my part time teaching position into a full time, guided my writing program towards its next phase (including my first press coverage), and started to feel in sync with certain aspects of my family; all because somewhere along the line I decided that (not even sure I did it consciously) I didn't need to be acceptable (this is still a work in progress), I just needed to be. It makes me wonder, what else can I do?