Thoughts on the 33rd

33.
That number has always seemed to posses a magic, in my eyes.
Double threes.
Two Holy Trinities.

My 33rd birthday fast approaches, and this year so does the annual slight-birthday-depression. You know, those feelings that suddenly appear under the surface in a stealth- like manner. Subconsciously, all of the things I intended to do for myself since the last birthday, remain mostly unrealized and haunt me in a sing-song voice. "You are another year older and look at all you still haven't done.

FU sing-song voice.



In truth, the voice has only gotten louder, since entering my 30's. Which by the way, I am despite the distracting noises in my head, quite pleased to be in. Looking back to compare , I see myself in a newer light. As compared to my 23 year old self, I am so much more sure about who I am, what I want, and where I want to go. In my twenties, I was rushing through to meet "me" through cocktails, parties, and guys (for the record, way more cocktails and parties than guys). Using all of those things as a mirror to reflect back to me who I was, I was desperately trying to glean my identity in the reflection. I am no longer afraid to ask for what I want. To go where I want, and to declare who I am. I have in essence, gained a confidence of self that can only come from the experiences Life has given me. Bloody hellacious as they may have been, at times.

And age has been on my mind a lot lately. As I have become aware of the first ticking of my biological clock (tick tock), have had raging crushes on 20-somethings (and become super aware of the life experience gaps coupled with maturity differences Ahem. That Taylor Lautner poster on my bathroom door is a joke. I swear! But if he had an older brother.....), and suddenly have become hyper aware of the fact that in 5 years, I will be 38 (gasp!!!!)- the time seems to be flying by without much forward progress made.

Tick-tock.
Hurry up and buy!
Hurry up and commit!
Hurry up and get knocked up!
Hurry up just hurry up!!!!!


Aaaccccccckkkkk!


The pressure, whether real or imagined, drives the Voice into prominence. Thus, leaving me feeling a bit deflated. And desiring to spend my magical birthday, mostly alone. This way, I cannot be disappointed. So I reason. Truth be told, (and if it offends anyone who has participated in my birthday in my 33 years, I do apologize), I have never, ever had the kind of birthday where I look back and say " That was a fabulous Fucking birthday!!!!!" (Mom, I know you have done your best! The flowers really made me feel special at school in [5th grade, my Chuck-E Cheez dream came true at 4 years old, at least "the frosting was good! " lol! Shauna, I appreciate you the wonderful job you did coordinating my 30th- you helped make it lovely. Anita and Beth , where ever you might be, I am still grateful for sophmore year's rainy day birthday cupcake pilgrimage.)

Ever.






My birthdays have mostly consisted of me planning my own lame parties. Some people show up. (thank you!) There is usually cake (Um, I was told there would be cake!), and since the age of 21 there has usually been booze (drown my disappointments with another shot of whatever- yes please!) The vision of what I wanted it to be never matches up with what it actually is. I just can't take one more birthday like that. Honestly, I just want to hang out with the people who genuinely love, accept, adore, appreciate and cherish me, whether a new friend or an old. I want to have some laughs, a few tasty adult beverages, maybe some yummy food, and cake. (Or cupcakes. Like it matters... as long as there is cake involved, I am happy. )

In my head, I am building up to the scene in the self-titled movie, in which my alter-ego, Bridget Jone's is cooking her own 33rd awful birthday dinner, and is suddenly interrupted by the hot Mark Darcy who pops by to see her and ends up "being all helpful in the kitchen" (who obviously has "it" for Bridge) and has a lovely dinner making memories and having laughs with her closest friends (until that sleazy ex-boyfriend chap, Daniel Cleaver shows up and ruins everything! I mean if Daniel hadn't of shown up, who knows what kind of present Mark would have presented Bridget with!!!!! )




Yet, ignoring the inevitable disappointment of the passing of November the 30th, I shall indeed be delighted to meet my 33rd year. And I will do so mostly alone. There will be some time spent at a spa. Perhaps lunch at a swanky spot. Maybe I will meet up with dear, close friends for a drink....who knows. (One brave friend has elected to plan my birthday party after I announced I wasn't throwing myself any more birthday parties from this point onwards. Erin, you are a lovely soul for wanting to do so. And after I have regaled you with tales of past birthday party woes, you will see that I could never be disappointed when my expectations are so low to begin with. :) )

My zodiac is Sagittarius, which means that even in the midst of low-ness, I can still see the sliver linings. Yes, it is annoying, isn't it? Because what I can see is that this next year holds the possibility of being the most magical one to date. I am free of the insecurities of my 20's, and iI am settling into the frustrations and relief that come in the 30's, though undoubtedly more self-assured and pleased. I am right where I am supposed to be.

We only have the present, and that is why it is such a gift.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, Voice. I hear ya,

Bugger off!

Pickin' Up The Stroll

Can't get this song out of my head today.

Lately struck with a sense of urgency, this seems to fit the mark these days...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bHHUhcV2eVY

Thinking about breaking up with my current gym, to join one closer to work. I miss running to songs like this one.

JT and Madonna?

Hells yes!

Coming Out of The Broom Closet

When I was a little girl, one of my favorite games to play, was called "Witch Fairy". I would play for hours on my own and sometimes with friends, imagining and playing inside an imaginary world where I could make magic happen as easily as I thought about things.

I have been witchy all my life, and yet I did not connect that knowledge with my own particular spiritual path until a few years ago. Quietly, I have owned myself as a witch. In the last year, I have very serendipitously become head of an informal coven. I have embraced myself as a Pagan, not a Wiccan (Wicca is an organized religion, and while I mean no disrespect, I prefer to be unorganized in my spirituality). Claiming my witchy self, has helped me to strengthen my beliefs about the world and my place in it. My Celtic and Cherokee lineage seems to burn brightly in my blood, and the gifts I have been blessed with illuminate my path. Magic is quite everyday and practical in my life. Because magic, is quite simply intention fueled by action. Its in our thoughts and deeds and combines with the energies around us to manifest the negative and the positive.



For me, belief in it all is what rings true for me. I say yes to God, Goddess, Buddha, Krishna,Jesus and Allah, etc. I prefer to cherry pick from those messengers that speak to me. There are many voices and many paths that lead to, as I see it, the very same door. They all have important information to be shared. As I have built/ build my own personal witchcraft practice, it all seems very normal to me to have a little bit of everything. Rocks and trees speak to me.There is a Buddha statue in my hallway. The energies and herbs combine to enhance my own or someone else's energy. I pray to anyone who might be listening, or sometimes to specific gods/god/godesses/saints/ etc. My intuitive abilities serve me and combine very nicely with my spirituality. I honor my ancestors and glean their wisdom. I celebrate the seasons and mark them with ritual.




There are new people in my life, and being in a new job location lends itself to encouraging bit of reinvention of myself. Or rather, it is feeling more comfortable in revealing parts of myself I have been quiet about all these years. Its lovely to be accepted for who I am, with kind and curious questions. So, here I am, coming out of the broom closet, and letting the magic loose!





Blessed Be!

seeing the dead

twice a year, my day job company gathers all the department managers from all of the stores in one place for a meeting about what's new, re-cap and connect. These meetings happen in October and April. The October meeting is especially significant for me, because it was 4 years ago that that was the place I found myself days after I had sustained the biggest betrayal and heartbreak to date. In those walls and under the unknowing presence of all those people around me, I was being held together with their collective energy. My heart was battered, and the tears threatened at every second. If not for my very dear friend Nina, I honestly don't know how I got through that day. So in the years since, every October, as the CEO is going over the financial aspects of the past 6 months, I sit and reflect. I measure how far I have come in four years. My journey has been surprising, sometimes lonely, enlightening, and incredibly meaningful. This October's meeting, yesterday, was quite surprising. But then again not.... for the last three weeks, I have had the premonition that I was going to see my ex-boyfriend. The one who was my first love, and my most significant relationship to date. I used to be able to feel him when he was thinking about me- not so much anymore because I have really distanced myself. Maybe its because its Fall, and I always get nostalgic this time of year. It was the Fall seven years ago, that we got together and I fell in love with him. And over the course of our 5 years together, we would meet up and try again in the Fall, only to end up ending it. Again. So the fact that I thought I had seen him, once at work, and once out with friends at the White Eagle last week, had me prepared. I knew it was coming. And then, as L. was going on about profits and margins, I felt a pair of eyes on me, I turned my head to see who was looking at me, and for a brief nano second met D. 's eyes. I quickly looked away. I needed to retreat and take stock. What the hell was he doing here? This was my turf. This was my safe place. And there he was. Wearing that god-damned orange fleece pull-over that his ex-wife had sent him for his birthday a year or so before we broke up for good. (It pissed me off immensely that he wore it- a gift of clothing seemed a really personal gift to give an ex-husband. It also brought up for me the fact that I didn't ever feel like I could have given him such a personal gift. The irony..)My heart wasn't racing. I didn't feel a fired up reaction at all. I was calm, I was cool. I didn't really care. Ok, I cared a little. After all he is my first love, and I will always wish him the best and have love for him. And...... I didn't feel the need to interact with him, or engage in a meaningful gaze. I didn't want to make a big deal about it, because, it's ancient history now. And I wasn't all that surprised. Like I said, I knew I was on the verge of running into him. So I put my roots down and my branches down and just enjoyed myself. I was myself. And I let him see that. And he was his self. We didn't run into each other all day. I didn't go out of my way to say hello, and neither did he. We simply existed in the same place as two people who didn't know one another.I saw the gift I needed to get out of being in the same time and place as him- to see that its really finished. Not that I thought we would get back together. Believe me when I say I know that ship has sailed, and I have no interest in being on it with him. We don't fit. We are so different, and we both want to get different things out of life. There are no words left to say. No pleasantries to exchange. No need to shake hands or hug. Or ask how the children I never really met are, across the pond with their mother. No need to ask how he is doing, or what is new in his life. We have already done that, countless times. And there is no point now.Because I have really let go. And all that remains is the space inside my heart that holds our past together with the love and respect it deserves.I have processed and made all of the realizations about the why and how we were together, and why I felt the need to cling and hold onto something so ill-fitted and dead to me. I have put it to rest. I saw that so clearly today.
Driving home, listening to one of my favorite Fall-time cds, (reminds me of driving to Bellingham to stay with my dear friend Susie, the October of 2004. Keane's Hopes and Fears), a song came on that tells the story of two lovers who are strangers to each other, living in the same town. Essentially that is what D. and I are to each other now. We don't know who we are anymore. We know who we were when were together, but now? Now we might as well be strangers. Its come full circle now. It only took me 7 years....And now? I long to Fall in love again in the Fall. Next time, I want him to Fall too, and to stay. Driving home today, reflecting and processing, as I turned onto my street, I saw a young couple holding hands. The woman was pregnant, and wrapped up in a cozy sweater -jacket. As I drove past them, I squeezed my eyes shut, and wished " Yes! I want that too."And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I had crossed a line over to a place I didn't know was waiting to get to.
Home.

Comparison

Recently, I have noticed that I can really tear myself down when I unconsciously make comparisons between myself and others.

Measuring up seems to be important to The Voice.

I compare stupid things all of the time.

My clothes.
My height.
My hair.
My speech.
My laugh.
my organizational skills.
my loneliness.
my shoes.
my cooking.
my fullness.
my humor.
my communication style.
my independence.
my sexiness.
my creativity.
my passion.
My body.
More specifically- my toes. My face. My arms. My skin. My heine. My chest. My belly.
Though oddly enough- never my legs.

I really enjoy my legs. Nice stems, they are. Muscular, shapely, strong. I wish the other parts of my body took muscle on so quickly and naturally....


There I go again...

A few days ago, I discovered that the scale I use to weigh myself everyday, is off by 10 lbs.

I have been beating myself up for weighing a number that I actually didn't for months. A huge weight was lifted, pun intended, upon this significant realization. I had been making comparisons in my progress (I have lost 15 lbs in the last 2 months) to others success and the way they have lost or not lost their own weight.

And feeling really shitty about myself because my own journey has been different.

Upon making the discovery of what my accurate weight was- I began to see my body differently. It got me wondering- how much of our body image is built on what we think about our bodies versus what is the reality? How twisted it can get in the head! Our perception becomes disgustingly distorted and we stop seeing the beauty of who we really are.

The truth is we are miracles. Every.single.one.of.us.
We have hearts that beat rapidly hundreds of times in minutes. Brains that control and create thoughts, muscles, nerves,cell production. The fact that we can create human beings in from our bodies is wondrous! DO you know how much energy it takes just to blink? Or type? Form whole sentences? We take so much for granted because we can get wrapped up in trying to measure up to a twisted idea of perfection.

So the fact that I have had a muffin top since age 9 sometimes seems like a stupid thing to worry about. Having more lb's doesn't make me any less important, beautiful, smart, worthy, lovable, creative, interesting, or magical. Having less lb's doesn't either. That stuff is already inside the packaging and enhances what the naked eye can see.

This is not news. Its a reminder.

I want to be around for a long time though, and enjoying my life. And that means I have to tell The Voice to fuck off when it starts getting hoighty -toighty. I am going to the gym and going on 5 mile hill walks as much as possible. I am losing those lb's.

Not at a rapid pace, not at a slow pace- at my pace.

All in good time, Paula. All in good time.

seizing the summer

I have been MIA for a while here it would seem.
There has been much happening in my world and nothing much at all at the same time.

There are three weeks left until I leave for my new job. I am counting the days as my restlessness and excitement at the next adventure inch closer.I 'll be managing the homegoods department at the new store near Tigard. I am looking forward to a change in scenery, staff, and focus. It could not have come at a better time in my life. Until the day the doors open for business, there is lots of ordering, receiving and merchandising to be done. I can't wait!

The biggest news by far in my world, is that my landlord and I are in talks for me to purchase the Magic Cottage next Spring. This will be a dream come true! I am in the process of creating a savings plan, finding a Realtor (I have gotten some wonderful references), and learning about the home buying process. I am terrible at saving money, and have now found motivation to learn how to get good at it! I am also allowing myself to envision a life with roots here. I feel so fortunate: everything that is meant to be finds a way....

What free time I have lately, I am spending with friends, acupuncture, at the gym, cleaning up my house, doing laundry, shopping, cooking, taking the occasional nap and wedding clients. I have even managed to catch a few shows in the last couple of months. I have been seizing the summer as much as possible, though I regret there hasn't been much time for reading. (I dream of getting a hammock next summer, once the major landscaping has been done- to read on a lazy, warm afternoon....doesn't that sound lovely?) I haven't been able to hike with my brothers like I wanted- it so hard for us to line up our schedules. Plus I injured my foot a few weeks back, and am finally all healed up. (yard work can be dangerous, kids.)

There is a part of me that feels overwhelmed by all that needs to get done around the yard. My focus this year has been on creating the layout of the yard. The vegetable garden never went in...next year. I did plant some flowers from seeds- they are sprouting and I hope they grow and bloom! I don't have much of a green thumb. My budget doesn't allow for much energy invested in landscaping. All of the planting that I want to do will just have to wait until next year.
I have visions of making over the fire pit area, planting hydrangeas, and building a deck or putting a slate patio (I can't decide which would be better. I can't afford to do this anytime soon, so thinking about it is as far as it goes. Maybe in a couple of years.)

I am taking a staycation, the last week in July. I had originally planned to head out to the east coast to visit friends, and when I was suddenly given the opportunity to purchase the Magic Cottage, i thought it best to use my money more wisely and put it towards my down payment savings initiative. (I am literally itching to get on a plane though. *sigh* Hopefully next Summer I will have the chance to fly off somewhere for a week...

Staycation plans will consist of yard work, cooking, making art, perhaps a trip to the library, and general relaxation without any appointments. I may have brunch with a friend, catch up with my BFF and get my ducks in a row before I start my new job (new schedule for the the month of August M-F. Weird. I don't know if I am going to like it...)

I am also looking forward to my family reunion in August, at my aunt's in Longview. It has been over a decade since all of my family was last together. Making some new memories, remembering old ones and getting to know where I come form and who I share the family tree with will be nice, I think.

Family is a funny thing for me. As I have gotten older, I seem to distanced myself from them. Even my brothers, who I am closest to in my family- I don't see them much (and one of them works with me! Not for much longer though...) As I mentioned before, our schedule are hard to line up. Some of that distance is naturally occurring due to my tendency towards independence. Truly, I enjoy spending time on my own to create, recharge, and take care of me. I have to schedule this time off for myself, or else it doesn't happen.( Honestly, I enjoy having to plan out my days- there is a large part of me that craves structure and routine. But within those structures, there must be flexibility or I rebel.) Once I have had enough time on my own, I then reach out to those I haven't seen in awhile and want to connect with. Which again, is why a family reunion sounds like such fun! We have all been off doing our own thing, and because we are all so different from each there, multiple perspectives and experiences can be shared. Differences fascinate me.

Ahh look at me rambling on today. I needed a break from the reorganization of the studio loft I have embarked on today. I am smack dab in the midst of sorting things out. BY tomorrow, I hope to have conquered it. My goal is to actually use the studio to make some art on my staycation, instead of dread coming up here because I can't find anything. I intend to post pics here when I finish, to compare against the ones I posted a few entries back.

Its mid-July already. My goodness how time flies! Hope you all are enjoying your summer too, seizing the moments everyday. :)

Good Mourning

Looking around my home, I notice that there are few things in my possession that I have owned for more than 10 years.

the night stand on the right side of my bed was a hand-me-down from my half-brother's grandparents.
I received it the summer he was born, in 1987. I used to keep my Barbies in the bottom drawer for a awhile.
Periodically it has held journals, books, incense, photos.
Presently it contains books, eye pillows, ear plugs, leftover glow-in-the-dark stick on stars from my ceiling (which are a collection of both the ones I had in my room as a teenager and left overs from an old roommate's sister).

On the other night stand sits a lamp, its base spray painted silver about 7 years ago. It's original purchase dates back to 1988. It was bought at Kmart. We had moved into the house on Brogden Street that July, and the bedrooms didn't have overhead lighting. It used to be porcelain white with a decal of colorful wildflowers on it. Sometimes I wish I hadn't painted over it- because those flowers are more me than the silver paint. I did so, because at the time there was a part of me that wanted to glaze over the parts of my childish past. I wanted to declare my adulthood, which was clearly recognizable by my sophisticated taste. ha.

In the office hangs a 2x3 oil painting I made my senior year in high school. I constructed the frame in Sept of 1996. That same month, my classmates and I drove up to our Art teacher's beach house one Saturday morning. The house is on Netarts Bay. We spent that beautiful, cloudless afternoon painting a sand/glue mixture on the jessoed canvas, right there on beach of the bay. I didn't really have a plan. Some people painted the sand on in an obvious picture. Later on back in the studio, I started to put color on randomly. Half-way through, I realized I was painting scenery from my out -of -body experience, from 2 years earlier. Now when I look at it, I am not only reminded of the places I have been, but also too, how I use to go there.


These things do not define me, though they tell you (and me) bits about who I am. Or rather who I have been in this life, so far.

The last couple of days, I have found myself in mourning. Like post-birthday depression, it snuck up on me. The weight of it laying over me so stealth- like I hardly knew it was there, until I did. I did not have words to describe what I was grieving. Until this morning, finishing up a book that involves terminal illness (My Sister's Keeper"). It became clear.

I was mourning the life I have been waiting for, to show up.

After sobbing a bit at the story's end, I got up from bed. Still in my pajamas. Opening up the the door leading from my room to the back courtyard, I stood barefoot on the small slab of concrete. The sun warm on my face, the wind soft on my skin. The sound of the cars muffled on the freeway close by, mimicking the sound of the ocean in my mind.

I am so blessed that I get to stand here.

I suddenly thought of my best friend, Shauna. She would get this feeling. She would understand this overwhelming intensity of gratitude for this moment. She would also understand the grief.

Because she and I are alike in that way. We understand each other without words. We know each other by the silence between phone calls.

If not for my self-imposed Communication Vacation today, I would, for once, call her. To say these things. To hear her commiserate and relate deeply on the other end of the line. But whether I call or not- I know she will hear me, won't you Babycakes?

The grief for what will never be is a little uncomfortable to carry. I don't want to carry it around.
It is made up of the hope I once I had for the life I would live.
Which may sound contradictory to some. I know I come off as quite optimistic and so sure and so connected. Wise even. And I am all those things at my core.
And I am human too. Not so far up on a cute little pedestal that I don't get knocked down every once in a while.

You see, I thought for sure, by now, that my life would be different. Looking back ten years ago, it would look on the outside like a lot has changed. And it has.

In ten years I have:
changed jobs
lost my father, his mother, and his father
lost myself in relationships, only to find myself again
moved 6 times
gotten out debt
gotten back into debt
lost 40lbs
grieved pets
been promoted, twice
had my wisdom teeth pulled
traveled to Egypt by myself
married people
accepted my intuitive gifts
studied astrology
made new friends
let go of old friends
"ridden the bull"
taken up running
read countless books
cooked Thanksgiving Dinner
been a brunette
hosted some amazing parties
found a magical cottage

Inside, I feel a lot of the same things I have since I was a child. While I am grateful to wake up everyday- it also feels like "Groundhog Day". I am still "here". It might look different, and it feels the same.
It feels as if nothing really changes.

Sometimes I wonder, ironically, now that I have finally decided I would someday like to be a mother (that clock isn't ticking yet), that maybe I am not supposed to be one.
Maybe, depsite the fact that I feel I have lived many lifetimes as a spiritual hermit, that isn't supposed to change this time around either.

Maybe its always supposed to be just me.

Perhaps I should be content and in acceptance of this great life I live, and not get greedy for more than I have been graciously given. Maybe its just not my lot in life to have more than this.

And its not so bad. In fact, its pretty awesome.
I am blessed with a magical home, the companionship of a sassy and sweet cat, a circle made up of the most wonderful friends, an important and satisfying day job, interesting and fulfilling life work of intuition, astrology and planning, and a family that supports and loves me

My goodness. Isn't that enough? Perhaps nothing is missing at all.

Perhaps I am like my old night stand- still very much present, made up of the same things. The bones in tact sturdy and strong. The contents stored inside, change from Barbie Dolls to works of fiction and hope of what might be, and then onto ear plugs, rubber bands, ball point pens, post-it notes, and lip balm.

Maybe we need different things than we think we do.