"When you realize that your sole purpose in life is to entertain the gods, there is nothing to do, but put on a good show."
I seem to write quite a few blog posts in my head these days. Usually it's because I don't have access to my blog and then, later, I have forgotten what I wanted to tell you. I am learning that one should write about an event as soon as possible after it occurs, or it will start to merge with the next event, and the next.. and then a new story happens and life gets a little confusing. I have tried very hard NOT to write anything about personal things that seem to disturb a small handful of my readers, but some of these things kind of build up and I need to get them out so I can get back to what I am supposed to be thinking about. I am also learning that if I try hard to NOT think about "pink elephants," as I have been taught, that the Universe has a way of tossing pink elephants directly in front of me. "What are you talking about?!" (feel free to skip to the next post, by the way, my feelings won't be hurt if you don't tell me that you skipped ahead.). ;-)
So here is my pink elephant.
Yesterday was my book signing at Mill Brook Gallery - I'll put that in the next post... I was overwhelmed, amazed, flattered, totally stoked, and absolutely terrified - all at the same time. I was sweating uncontrollably, but generally doing OK, until a person commented that she was really proud of me for holding up so well and having accomplished so much this year... "despite what I had gone through." I smiled and said "I'm fine." (I have a pillow in my studio with a dead cow, feet in the air, and the words "Really, I'm fine...") I pictured that cow, but it turned into the pink elephant. No matter how many excited, Zentangle addicted kids and parents I talked to after that - people who were so excited just to talk to ME. ME!? I couldn't stop thinking about failure. How many books, signings, classes, shows... how many successes does it take to make up for one major failure? (And who exactly am I trying to placate?)
To celebrate my "success", I went to see the movie, Crazy, Stupid, Love. I just knew it was a comedy. I didn't realize it was another little joke from the Universe about pink elephants. It was actually a really great movie - I just wish it hadn't hit so close to home: A couple who have been together for 20-something years gets divorced. They have a 13 year-old son and a little daughter who wears tutus and fairy wings. The wife asks for the divorce. I should have left - but the twisting stories and love triangles were quite funny and endearing. And I was really curious to find out how it all turned out. I won't tell you. Except that I have to admit I was really discouraged by the message of soul-mates and fighting for the one you truly love.
So I spent the rest of the evening trying to figure out where I started making the mistakes, or even if they were my mistakes. My mom told me I was being silly and this stuff just happens. Yeh, I know that... That's where I feel like I failed. My daughter is about the same age I was, when my parents split. 99% of kids would rather have two parents, living together, and absolutely miserable - than those same two parents, separate but happy. And no matter what you tell the kids, they will still believe that it was their fault.
The only people who really got a good deal here were my kids. Even though they only spend half a week with each of us, they now get a heck of a lot more time with their dad. And he takes them on trips and to museums, miniature golf, barbeques, and all the places that divorced dads typically take their kids. The irony is, now that they have their dad's attention, they have to share it. Another joke from the Universe. Whatta sense of humor. And they actually get less time with mom, because she has to work more.
I've mentioned before that I am very introverted - and I have noticed that whenever I have a social event or teach a class, the next morning I have a "social hangover". I feel like I've been drinking all night. I feel like I have been hit by a truck. So I crawled into bed last night, thinking TOO MUCH, and blaming it on the full moon, expecting to feel terrible in the morning, and wishing I could get that movie out of my head... I'd only been asleep for a few hours when...
I was awake at 5am to the sound of brakes screeching, something smashing, and was that a... SCREAM!? @#$%!!? My teeny cottage has a forest behind, Rte. 114 directly in front, and a lake on the other side of the road. I was sure a car had crashed into my house! I flew to the window and saw mist coming off the postcard-looking lake, but a large van, the telephone company-type, was pulled onto the side of the road. The van-guy was cursing, punching numbers on his cell and picking up debris from the road - all at the same time. He told the police that he had hit a deer, he was fine, didn't need an ambulance, but the deer was still alive and had run into the lake. My neighbor, Harry did the right thing and came out to see if the guy was OK, then called someone to come shoot the deer. Oh God.
I closed my windows, turned on the air conditioner to mask any more noises and hid in my bed. And now I couldn't stop thinking about that poor deer. She just wanted to drink from the lake. Who is out driving at 5am? She saw her goal and ran for it. Blind-sided. Hit by a truck. The Universe laughs again. Everyone feels sorry for the poor guy in the van. The deer is "put out of her misery". And Van-guy serves venison steaks to his girlfriend this weekend.
If my life were a movie (maybe it is?), my character would have run outside to provide support and understanding to the hot Van-guy. Ripped my pajama pants into strips to bind up his gushing wounds - from the horns (antlers?) of the crazed buck who had attacked his truck. We would have fallen madly in love, discovered we were true soul mates... and he would have grilled up the venison burgers for ME. Naturally - he loves to cook, right?
Well, Universe, it's a good thing that I have a sense of humor too. I refuse to become that sour, cynical, bitch. But maybe you don't need to try so hard, OK? On with the show.
(that reminds me of a quote from Mother Theresa, I think: "God never gives you more than he thinks you can handle. I just wish he didn't trust me so much.")