"I can't. I have rehearsal."

Two weeks ago I took a leap. I jumped back into the theatre, auditioning for the first time in eight years for a director who doesn't already know me.

And guess what?

I got the lead :) I'm playing it cool now, but when I first found out, you'd better believe there was all kinds of jumping and screaming and celebrating!

It's called "Compatibility." It's a new musical (written by our director) that is perfect for the geek in all of us. And yes, I get far too many of the references, thank you very much.

I am now practically living out of my car. Twice I have had to change clothes in the middle of the parking lot. I eat dinner as I drive from work straight to rehearsal every night. I am only home to go to sleep, and I memorize lines during my lunch hour.

And I'm loving every minute of it. Things are turning around, and there is something to look forward to besides work. My days are filled with magic, and my nights are filled with music.

Burnt Cheese and Blank Canvas

There comes a point every week where my groceries are more than a little sparse. It's during times like this that I start eating tater tots for two meals a day and finding a way to turn every scrap of leftover anything into a meal. And it is not at all uncommon during these times to find me sitting on my bedroom floor eating chips and salsa for dinner.

So tonight was much like any other night. Except that, through an unfortunate set of circumstances which I am sure Lady Karma set on me herself, just to spite my eating habits, I instead ended up with a bowl of stale chips and burnt cheese. Which I suffered through for all of four bites before throwing it out and digging into a brand new sleeve of Thin Mints. A much better choice, trust me.

It was during the Thin Mint course of my lovely dinner that a friend of mine mentioned on Facebook that he had "a couple of canvases that are begging to be painted." And something about that phrase just grabbed me, and wouldn't let go. A blank canvas. It always seems so symbolic and fresh. A blank canvas is full of possibilities. And I have always wished that I could paint, just so that I could throw myself into those possibilities.

I envy painters. One of my roommates (the lovely Stephanie) can throw herself into her drawings. Which are amazing, by the way. She can paint and draw and sketch, and I have trouble with stick figures. I've watched her focusing on her art, and you can just see that she's not even in our world anymore.

Then there's my dad, who paints some of the most beautiful landscapes I have ever seen. And I've watched him take his paintings from start to finish. Sanding his own boards, making his own paint ... it is a labor of love in every way.

Musicians who can express themselves through their own songs. Dancers, who can take all of their emotions and fling them to the farthest reaches of the universe with movement. Even great chefs and bakers, who are suddenly seized with the urge to create something new and come out of the kitchen covered in flour and streaks of chocolate.

I want to come out covered in flour. Or with paint on my clothes, or bruises from choreography. I want my appearance to say, "I am a creator."

I don't mean all of the time. I'm not talking about buying into the "Hello, I'm a starving artist and therefore MUST dress a certain way" stereotype. But when a painter finishes in the studio, you can tell. There's charcoal on their hands and a far-off look in their eyes that says a part of them is still with their work.

Writing. Acting. Those are my areas. That is where I create. And unless you see the show, or read the book, you may never know how much I pour my heart and soul into my creations. I don't come out of my writing sessions with inkstains (or, in this day and age, keyboard prints) all over my fingers. But it doesn't mean I don't create. It just means you can't see it as easily.

My point? I did have one, back when I started this post ... a blank canvas can be anything. A stage. A scrap of paper. An empty space of floor where you try a new step.

Every day, find a new blank canvas. And splash yourself all over it.

Smiling on the Outside

It sucks when something completely insignificant can make me drop all attempts to think positively. When I got up this morning, I was going to have a good day. It was decided. I got up early, had a good well-rounded breakfast, and I was feeling wonderful! Everything was going to be OK ...

And then something happened. What it was isn't important. In fact, there is no reason something so trivial should have set me off this way. But the fact of the matter is, it did. And, quite suddenly, all of my carefully harnessed positive attitude vanished in a hailstorm of emotional mess.

Everything is not OK. And I don't want to talk about things, because it makes me feel weak and like I'm begging for sympathy. But, at the same time, I just want to stop smiling for once.

I don't, of course ... no one at work had the slightest inkling ... they never do. I just keep smiling on the outside.

Normal

At 22, most people are only just starting to think about marriage, rather than just getting out of one. In college, you're supposed to be a little bit immature. A little irresponsible, staying up too late and going out and partying ... that's what I've been told, anyway. That's what I'm surrounded by day after day. And while I'm not really a partying kinda girl, there are times when I envy the "dancing through life" mentality.

Your average 22-year-old isn't spending their day off on the phone with lawyers. Or paying off the balance on their couple's counseling bill. Or worrying about taking care of loved ones. And I don't mind doing it, any of it. This is just another piece of my puzzle, a chapter in my story. And if I feel a little out of place sometimes, I just remind myself that this puts me ahead of the game. I can be responsible, I can be mature, I can handle things.

But tonight, for one night, I get to forget about all of it. Magic Kingdom is going to be open for 24 hours today, in honor of Leap Day. And so, from 11 PM to about 5 AM tomorrow morning, I am going to party. For one night, the most important thing in life is living, and living it up. For just one night, I am bound and determined to be normal.

"Deal with me"

Every now and then I get hit with a very obvious "Hello, I am your drama. Deal with me now." It usually happens when I'm least expecting it, and it unbalances me in a way that makes me grasp at any outlet, any stability to keep me going. Whether it's cleaning the apartment for the hundredth time, or just talking to a friend about simple little nothings, I need something to hold me together.

Today was one of those days. Mom started her chemotherapy today, which I was expecting. This is a good thing. It means we're on the road to recovery! Well, remission, but that's another story for another time. A time when it's not one in the morning, and I can actually handle the details ... But, as I said, today was one of those days. Where I was going along perfectly fine, handling myself and life and all that entails, and then suddenly I was drowning. Everything caught up to me all at once. The very idea that my mother, the strongest woman I know, was going through this right now hit me, and all of the things I've been pushing away came with it. Prominent among them : the overwhelming feeling that I can't do this.

I can't take care of myself, why would anyone in the world think I can? I have been so spoiled it's ridiculous, and now I'm on my own.

And then I realized that it's not the self-sufficiency that scares me, I can handle that. It's not the being away from home, I can handle that, too. I can handle going home and helping the family if need be, and I can handle being responsible for myself.

No, the thing that pushed me over the edge is knowing that I'm going through this alone. I mean, I know I have friends. Some very, very good friends. And wonderful family. And I'm not going through nearly as much pain and heartache right now as some. But, emotionally, I still feel like there should be someone there to hold me when things get this way. Someone to tell me everything is going to be alright, and just let me cry without being ashamed. I had that someone for so many of the times that I thought I needed it, and now when I need it  the most, it's gone.

As I said in my last post, I am a big girl. I can take care of myself. But sometimes, I wish I didn't have to ...

Diamonds

"A diamond is a piece of charcoal that handled stress exceptionally well." ~unknown

When I was first planning to come down to Florida, Brayden told me something along the lines of "You don't have to tell people you were married. You can just be you."

I understand why he felt this way ... my whole life story comes off as a little intimidating, and he just wants me to be happy and fit in.

Bless him for that.

But here's the thing : I know I am not my mistakes. I am moving forward and moving on, and I am not stuck in my past. But my past has made me who I am. All of these things are a part of me, and a part of my story. And I am not ashamed of them. Every single thing that has happened over the past few years has made me stronger. And everything that is happening now, no matter how hard it is, can be overcome.

I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. And while I don't want to throw my "drama" in people's faces (it's my burden to bear, after all) this is still my story. I wouldn't trade it for anyone else's. And maybe I'm still learning who I am and how to deal with things, but that's life. It's not about how big your problems are, it's about how you handle them.

The Waiting Place

"Waiting for the fish to bite, or waiting for the wind to fly a kite, or waiting around for a Friday night. Or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake. Or a pot to boil. Or a better break. Or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants, or a wig with curls, or another chance"

Oh, the Places You'll Go

I have never been a patient person. I do not know the meaning of "take it slow." I leap without looking and push myself so hard that I often make myself sick. I don't slow down, and I don't give up.

Sometimes, this works to my advantage. It has helped fuel a strong work ethic, and it helped me try to keep my marriage together even when I wanted nothing more than to escape. Granted, the marriage ended in its own time anyway, but I still fought when so many others would have given up.

But now ... now I'm stuck in that Waiting Place. I cannot help speed my mother's treatments along. I don't know how long they'll take, and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. I have come to accept the fact that I have to let some things go. I have to breathe, and pray, and let things happen when they will. However, my excess impatient energy seems to have re-focused itself in other areas of my life.

I am no longer content with "someday." My mother had so many "somedays," and now her whole life has shifted. I had "somedays." I had a whole future planned, and now ... well, now my future is a blank canvas. An empty page. There are possibilities and dreams and the crippling fear of failure. My life is now, not someday.