Note to self: Flossing the day before a dental appointment--albeit regular and routine--does not constitute a flossing regimen.
Okay, I get that. But might I add, Ms. Hygienist, that asking me about my hobbies, scribbling it down, and putting it in my file, and using it as small talk conversation starter does not count as "knowing me" the next time you see me.
Guess where I was today, Internets? That's right, the office of the official dentist for the blankity blankhawks. I was there for my once every 4 month visit. Nothing truly noteworthy happened, except that I just realized that they scheduled my next appointment for 3 months from now. Hey, wait a minute. Tricky, Doctor, tricky.
My appointment was good, but do you want to know something? I've always treated the dentist like I treated school. Always. This will come as no surprise to any of you, but I was a little goodie-two-shoes (except for the handfuls of cigarettes I mentioned smoking yesterday, well, and a few other things that I'm not going to confess here). I always did all my homework--to perfection--and would head into a traumatic tailspin if I ever received any marks. Ninety-eight out of 100?! WHAT?! HOW COULD I HAVE MISSED TWO POINTS?!
So now that I don't have school to fuel my ridiculous perfectionist ways, I have to find other outlets, like doing my taxes, and going to the dentist. The only problem with the dentist is I don't really do my homework; I mean I use my Sonicare toothbrush (following the manufacturer's instructions to the letter, of course), but I don't floss daily--sometimes not even weekly or monthly. If there's a habit I wish I would have picked up from Mr. McMichael it's flossing (followed closely by doing the dishes). Man, that dude would floss. But alas, it didn't rub off on me. In fact, he'd go off and floss, and I'd actually resent him. He's just doing his thing, flossing you know, and I would sit there not flossing and stewing, "Oh, look at you, Mr. Flossy-pants. You think you're so good with your waxy string. Better than all of us non-flossing people. Oh yeah, well, humph." And he's just standing there flossing, not thinking anything, or if he is thinking, it's probably, "Now this tooth, now the next tooth. Oh, look at my sweet little girlfriend over there. Wonder why she's scowling at me?" Whoa. I suddenly understand what it was like to be in class with me, and not be me. That's what all those stink-eyes were for when I was the first person in my class to join the "Pen and Ink" club for having the best spelling and penmanship.
So there I am, today, in the chair, mouth agape, critically analyzing every scrape, thinking, "Man, I hope she doesn't grade me down for that." Or, "Just don't poke my gums. If you don't poke my gums, then I won't bleed, and maybe you'll never know that I haven't flossed in weeks." I sit there staring out of my dark protective glasses interpreting her every facial tick, "Oh, that was definitely a look of disapproval. Oh, and that one is certainly filled with shame and disgust. The horror! I've disappointed her--oh, wait, no her nose itches."
And then waiting for the dentist to come and inspect the final product is like waiting for the report card. And when she finally comes, I'm told I have beautiful teeth and I need to floss more. In other words 98 out of 100.
4.06.2010
Coping mechanisms
A couple of months ago, I found out some interesting news: Marinara Jar is engaged. I always wondered what it would feel like to hear that news. We broke up nearly three years ago, and believe me I do not regret that one iota, but I have been curious about how I would respond tin that moment? Turns out, it made me want to smoke.
For those of you that don't know me, I'm not a smoker. I've maybe had a handful of cigarettes in my lifetime (almost all of them regrettable college choices, well, and a few times coincidentally with Marinara Jar himself, ahem, choices I do regret). And I didn't really want a cigarette when I heard the news, what I wanted was to be a smoker so that I could go outside, stick a cigarette between my fingers, aggressively put it to my lips, suck in as hard as I can, pull it away, hold my breath for a second, shake my head and exclaim, "what the what?!" Because that's what the moment was calling for. Do you know what I'm talking about?
I know it's a weird response, but it's honestly what I wanted. And even just going through the motions, sans cigarette, it made me feel better. I didn't need to go out and be a smoker, I just needed to pretend I was one. There was something about the kinetic energy of that scenario that was strangely calming. Well, kinetic energy, or my overactive imagination. It makes me think back to when I was a kindergartner over at a friend's house and she asked me if I wanted some Kool-Aid. My response? No, because all I had to do was think of a flavor, say grape, and swallow the spit in my mouth and voila, grape Kool-Aid. Yes. Yes I did actually think that. And yes, yes I did actually just tell the Internets that.
Actually, it's not really like pretend Kool-Aid at all; I think it's more like the catch phrase on my JV basketball sweatshirt circa 1992: the body achieves what the mind believes. Only I think when we came up with that saying, we weren't talking about fake smoking to help deal with the reality that your ex-boyfriend is getting married.
For those of you that don't know me, I'm not a smoker. I've maybe had a handful of cigarettes in my lifetime (almost all of them regrettable college choices, well, and a few times coincidentally with Marinara Jar himself, ahem, choices I do regret). And I didn't really want a cigarette when I heard the news, what I wanted was to be a smoker so that I could go outside, stick a cigarette between my fingers, aggressively put it to my lips, suck in as hard as I can, pull it away, hold my breath for a second, shake my head and exclaim, "what the what?!" Because that's what the moment was calling for. Do you know what I'm talking about?
I know it's a weird response, but it's honestly what I wanted. And even just going through the motions, sans cigarette, it made me feel better. I didn't need to go out and be a smoker, I just needed to pretend I was one. There was something about the kinetic energy of that scenario that was strangely calming. Well, kinetic energy, or my overactive imagination. It makes me think back to when I was a kindergartner over at a friend's house and she asked me if I wanted some Kool-Aid. My response? No, because all I had to do was think of a flavor, say grape, and swallow the spit in my mouth and voila, grape Kool-Aid. Yes. Yes I did actually think that. And yes, yes I did actually just tell the Internets that.
Actually, it's not really like pretend Kool-Aid at all; I think it's more like the catch phrase on my JV basketball sweatshirt circa 1992: the body achieves what the mind believes. Only I think when we came up with that saying, we weren't talking about fake smoking to help deal with the reality that your ex-boyfriend is getting married.
4.04.2010
There I was, in Arcadia
Before I start this post, I just need to give you a glimpse into the setting from which I'm writing. I'm in one of my favorite restaurants in Seattle (one with free Wi-Fi, w00t). It's an old building that used to be a lodge for the Oddfellows Society. Thus it is aptly named, Oddfellows. I was feeling a little sorry for myself today, so I decided to treat myself to dinner and am so glad I did. Here I sit, with a belly full of good wine, gnocchi with sharp cheddar fondue, bacon, and broccoli, and chocolate ginger bread pudding. Every table is lit with a small tea light candle in dainty little mugs and small bud vases with babies breath. The music selection right now: Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone (one of my all-time favorites). And I'm blogging again. Ah, all is right with the world, at least for tonight.
--
Last night saw the close of the play on which I've been working so hard, Arcadia. It is a very heady, very challenging play by Tom Stoppard. It took me three full reads and a listen to a recording on NPR before I actually started liking it (and by that time I had already been cast in one of the lead roles). Suffice it to say it's not my favorite play and that's not what drew me to audition or accept the role, but I'm so glad I did.
Heading into the audition I knew I had a good chance at playing the role of Hannah Jarvis, a sarcastic, independent, somewhat reserved and stand-offish, published researcher. I mean, hello? Do you know me at all? Can you say dream role? Oh, and she's English, so yes, I got to pretend I was Emma Thompson for the past three months. And according to the biased reviews from my friends (and some unsolicited genuine comments from a handful of strangers), I managed to pull it off.
I auditioned for the show the night before Mr. McMichael and I headed to Mexico. And I did so under the auspices of hoping for the ridiculously big challenge of playing a lead role. There's a lot of dialogue in this show. A LOT. And considering I had only been in two productions previously--playing minor characters in both--the thought of all that memorizing (oh, did I mention it's a play about math and physics?) scared the crap out of me. And because of that, I auditioned.
And because of our Mexican vacation, I missed call backs. So, I just had to hope that I nailed my initial audition enough to land the part. I felt pretty confident that I did well and got a sign of sorts that first night on vacation. Mr. M and I were walking along the beach and we came across a beach-front restaurant. The friendly host convinced us to stop and have a margarita on the beach and as he grabbed us a couple of menus, I looked up and noticed that we were indeed having drinks at: Restaurant Arcadia.
Two days later, I was offered the role. And in that instant I was extremely thrilled and ready to vomit. For a moment I considered not taking it simply because it scared the crap out of me. But take it I did, and I ran the hell out of that part. At the risk of sounding really arrogant (please believe me, I'm not, I'm just really proud of myself for tackling a very big, very scary challenge, and working so very hard on it), I was really really good. It helps that I was fortunate to share the stage with a couple of amazing actors, and it also helps that I didn't really have to act too much to play the neurotic Hannah (if you saw the show, you know what I mean). But as is the case with most things I do in life, I threw myself into this 100% and I feel so good with the result.
Only now, it's over.
Arcadia refers to the pastoral and the idyllic. And while I can say the lead up to the show would not have been considered in most circles idyllic, it was perfect for where I was. I learned so much about myself, so much. I fell even more in love with acting and live theatre. I was challenged. I made new friends. And, although neither t
he best nor the most healthy coping strategy, I was able to focus on the show and not on the ending of my relationship with Mr. M.
As is the case, all things come to an eventual end. And here I am now in an Arcadia of sorts (I still have some bread pudding and wine left, yay). It's time for me to deal with real life. First, I think I need to catch up on some sleep and maybe deal with some of the emotional stuff I've been displacing, for very soon, a new challenge will be calling me, they always do. I'm not going to lie, the thought of "what's next" is scaring the crap out of me right now. But I also know that I can and will rise to the challenge, and I will eventually feel so good with the result.
--
Last night saw the close of the play on which I've been working so hard, Arcadia. It is a very heady, very challenging play by Tom Stoppard. It took me three full reads and a listen to a recording on NPR before I actually started liking it (and by that time I had already been cast in one of the lead roles). Suffice it to say it's not my favorite play and that's not what drew me to audition or accept the role, but I'm so glad I did.
Heading into the audition I knew I had a good chance at playing the role of Hannah Jarvis, a sarcastic, independent, somewhat reserved and stand-offish, published researcher. I mean, hello? Do you know me at all? Can you say dream role? Oh, and she's English, so yes, I got to pretend I was Emma Thompson for the past three months. And according to the biased reviews from my friends (and some unsolicited genuine comments from a handful of strangers), I managed to pull it off.
I auditioned for the show the night before Mr. McMichael and I headed to Mexico. And I did so under the auspices of hoping for the ridiculously big challenge of playing a lead role. There's a lot of dialogue in this show. A LOT. And considering I had only been in two productions previously--playing minor characters in both--the thought of all that memorizing (oh, did I mention it's a play about math and physics?) scared the crap out of me. And because of that, I auditioned.
And because of our Mexican vacation, I missed call backs. So, I just had to hope that I nailed my initial audition enough to land the part. I felt pretty confident that I did well and got a sign of sorts that first night on vacation. Mr. M and I were walking along the beach and we came across a beach-front restaurant. The friendly host convinced us to stop and have a margarita on the beach and as he grabbed us a couple of menus, I looked up and noticed that we were indeed having drinks at: Restaurant Arcadia.
Two days later, I was offered the role. And in that instant I was extremely thrilled and ready to vomit. For a moment I considered not taking it simply because it scared the crap out of me. But take it I did, and I ran the hell out of that part. At the risk of sounding really arrogant (please believe me, I'm not, I'm just really proud of myself for tackling a very big, very scary challenge, and working so very hard on it), I was really really good. It helps that I was fortunate to share the stage with a couple of amazing actors, and it also helps that I didn't really have to act too much to play the neurotic Hannah (if you saw the show, you know what I mean). But as is the case with most things I do in life, I threw myself into this 100% and I feel so good with the result.
Only now, it's over.
Arcadia refers to the pastoral and the idyllic. And while I can say the lead up to the show would not have been considered in most circles idyllic, it was perfect for where I was. I learned so much about myself, so much. I fell even more in love with acting and live theatre. I was challenged. I made new friends. And, although neither t
he best nor the most healthy coping strategy, I was able to focus on the show and not on the ending of my relationship with Mr. M.As is the case, all things come to an eventual end. And here I am now in an Arcadia of sorts (I still have some bread pudding and wine left, yay). It's time for me to deal with real life. First, I think I need to catch up on some sleep and maybe deal with some of the emotional stuff I've been displacing, for very soon, a new challenge will be calling me, they always do. I'm not going to lie, the thought of "what's next" is scaring the crap out of me right now. But I also know that I can and will rise to the challenge, and I will eventually feel so good with the result.
4.03.2010
Too good not to share
Note to self: Hey kids (and furry forest animals), smoking is bad for your health.
Earlier today I was in North Seattle and I witnessed something only I could witness (trust me, when you read the brief account below, you're going to think, "Of course you saw that, LMNT!"). I texted a friend about it, and were I on Twitter, this is what I would have tweeted:
With that, have a happy weekend, Internets!
Earlier today I was in North Seattle and I witnessed something only I could witness (trust me, when you read the brief account below, you're going to think, "Of course you saw that, LMNT!"). I texted a friend about it, and were I on Twitter, this is what I would have tweeted:
"Relatively normal looking woman with a furry animal tail coming out of her jeans @ bus stop. Lends a man a cigarette. They talk, he yells, she runs, he pursues."
"He was, quite literally, chasing tail!"
With that, have a happy weekend, Internets!
3.20.2010
Renewal
Internets, regardless what you think, I've not been avoiding you. I've been avoiding this post.
Life is very busy, very full. Things are picking up at work, I have a lead role in a play which opened on Thursday and Mr. McMichael and I broke up. Yes. That's what I said.
What can I say? Was it a surprise? Yes and no. We had an amazing relationship. Amazing. This relationship was unlike any other I have had in my life, and I know now I cannot settle for anything less than that. Ever. While so many things with us were great, sometimes that's just not enough. It took me a long time to get to where I needed to get--essentially the entire span of our relationship, but the important thing is that I got there. And I'm so grateful for the journey.
I love Mr. McMichael dearly. And even better I finally love myself more than I ever knew I could. I love who I was in the relationship-- the real me, absolutely 100% at all times. I learned so much about giving of myself, about being vulnerable, about silencing my inner-Gremlin, and most importantly about following my heart. And ultimately, that's what led us both to our decision to end the relationship.
Just as much as this relationship was unlike any other, so was the break-up. It's really hard for me to put it into words. If I think about some of the more emotionally raw break-ups I've had, I remember feeling broken--sometimes for weeks, months even. I'm laughing now with the realization that of course we feel broken, we call it a break up. I don't know what I would call what happened with Mr. McMichael, but I do know that I don't feel broken at all. If anything I feel more whole. When I think about us ending our relationship, we both came into that conversation with so much love in both of our hearts and so much care and consideration for ourselves and each other. Sure, it was sad, very sad. But even more it was authentic, powerful, and was honestly amazing. There was no way more fitting to honor what we had together and I love that.
So, now I find myself in a time and place that is new for me. In the past, I'd still be trying to pick up the pieces of myself, my confidence, my ability to love and be loved; I'd be broken. But here I am, feeling more myself, more confident, more able to love myself and someday someone else. As hard as it was to be truly honest with myself about what I want in my life because it meant not having Mr. McMichael in my life, listening to my heart was the best thing I ever could have done, and I couldn't have done it without him.
Thank you, Mr. McMichael. I love you, always.
Life is very busy, very full. Things are picking up at work, I have a lead role in a play which opened on Thursday and Mr. McMichael and I broke up. Yes. That's what I said.
What can I say? Was it a surprise? Yes and no. We had an amazing relationship. Amazing. This relationship was unlike any other I have had in my life, and I know now I cannot settle for anything less than that. Ever. While so many things with us were great, sometimes that's just not enough. It took me a long time to get to where I needed to get--essentially the entire span of our relationship, but the important thing is that I got there. And I'm so grateful for the journey.
I love Mr. McMichael dearly. And even better I finally love myself more than I ever knew I could. I love who I was in the relationship-- the real me, absolutely 100% at all times. I learned so much about giving of myself, about being vulnerable, about silencing my inner-Gremlin, and most importantly about following my heart. And ultimately, that's what led us both to our decision to end the relationship.
Just as much as this relationship was unlike any other, so was the break-up. It's really hard for me to put it into words. If I think about some of the more emotionally raw break-ups I've had, I remember feeling broken--sometimes for weeks, months even. I'm laughing now with the realization that of course we feel broken, we call it a break up. I don't know what I would call what happened with Mr. McMichael, but I do know that I don't feel broken at all. If anything I feel more whole. When I think about us ending our relationship, we both came into that conversation with so much love in both of our hearts and so much care and consideration for ourselves and each other. Sure, it was sad, very sad. But even more it was authentic, powerful, and was honestly amazing. There was no way more fitting to honor what we had together and I love that.
So, now I find myself in a time and place that is new for me. In the past, I'd still be trying to pick up the pieces of myself, my confidence, my ability to love and be loved; I'd be broken. But here I am, feeling more myself, more confident, more able to love myself and someday someone else. As hard as it was to be truly honest with myself about what I want in my life because it meant not having Mr. McMichael in my life, listening to my heart was the best thing I ever could have done, and I couldn't have done it without him.
Thank you, Mr. McMichael. I love you, always.
3.07.2010
Have you seen me?
And no, this post is not in reference to the fact that I've been an absentee blogger (watch me casually step over that and blatantly ignore the fact that I only posted once last month). It is in reference to this:
I lost my hubcap! What the what? I can't help but think I brought this on myself when I discussed missing hubcaps here and here.All I know is my Jetta looks so sad and I've kept my eyes peeled along all of the roadsides I typically travel, just hoping for a glimpse of my little one propped up against a tree or an electrical box or something. Where's a darn hubcap humanitarian when you need one? At one point I was on one of the floating bridges across Lake Washington stopped by an accident an d out of the corner of my eye, I saw a hubcap on the side of the bridge. I had to exercise great restraint to not jump out of my car in the midst of all the traffic to see if it was mine.
2.14.2010
Hey Fans!
Dear Internets,
I am a girl of many odd skills, as may be apparent to some of my long-time readers (are you still out there? Yeah, yeah, I know. Insert Catholic guilt here). But some of you might not know that one of my little-known skills is public address system operations. That's right, the voice you hear over a PA system just might be mine. And if you happen to be in the King County Aquatic Center right now, that voice IS mine.
I started my illustrious career in athletics event announcing back in graduate school. I had completed my time as a college volleyball player, and was back watching my former teammates play, when I realized the announcer was terrible. And I thought, "hey, I'm here at every game, and I know what's going on--and also what should and shouldn't be said during a match--why don't I see about an announcing gig." And a star was born.
I could also segue here into my stint as a college athletics mascot, but I won't because that's another story AND because in addition to being a highly skilled announcer, I'm also on a blog post race. You see, this weekend, I've picked up announcing again and am currently announcing a collegiate conference championship swimming meet. We're on the last day, and I made a little bet with the Commish that I could start and complete a blog post in the amount it takes these swimmers to swim their last event. So, in the amount of time it takes 6 student-athletes to swim a mile, I will provide you with a fun little post (hopefully I'll have time to spell check).
If you ever think, how does one prepare for PA work? Well, one thing I do is imagine I'm in an airport listening to the woman on the intercom calling for people to come to the white operating telephone, and I make my voice sound like her. Oh, and I also completely freak out about what I have to say and name pronunciations and the like, but I don't recommend that prep work at all.
It's the bell lap, and I'm proud to say I can type as fast as people can swim a mile, and for what it's worth, I think I'm just as tired.
LMNT Disclaimer: Just note, in my mile of typing I was unable to truly proofread this message. Maybe it would have helped if I had a coach and teammates standing next to me yelling "move... move... move" everytime I came up for air.
I am a girl of many odd skills, as may be apparent to some of my long-time readers (are you still out there? Yeah, yeah, I know. Insert Catholic guilt here). But some of you might not know that one of my little-known skills is public address system operations. That's right, the voice you hear over a PA system just might be mine. And if you happen to be in the King County Aquatic Center right now, that voice IS mine.
I started my illustrious career in athletics event announcing back in graduate school. I had completed my time as a college volleyball player, and was back watching my former teammates play, when I realized the announcer was terrible. And I thought, "hey, I'm here at every game, and I know what's going on--and also what should and shouldn't be said during a match--why don't I see about an announcing gig." And a star was born.
I could also segue here into my stint as a college athletics mascot, but I won't because that's another story AND because in addition to being a highly skilled announcer, I'm also on a blog post race. You see, this weekend, I've picked up announcing again and am currently announcing a collegiate conference championship swimming meet. We're on the last day, and I made a little bet with the Commish that I could start and complete a blog post in the amount it takes these swimmers to swim their last event. So, in the amount of time it takes 6 student-athletes to swim a mile, I will provide you with a fun little post (hopefully I'll have time to spell check).
If you ever think, how does one prepare for PA work? Well, one thing I do is imagine I'm in an airport listening to the woman on the intercom calling for people to come to the white operating telephone, and I make my voice sound like her. Oh, and I also completely freak out about what I have to say and name pronunciations and the like, but I don't recommend that prep work at all.
It's the bell lap, and I'm proud to say I can type as fast as people can swim a mile, and for what it's worth, I think I'm just as tired.
LMNT Disclaimer: Just note, in my mile of typing I was unable to truly proofread this message. Maybe it would have helped if I had a coach and teammates standing next to me yelling "move... move... move" everytime I came up for air.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)