Aggggggggggggg

While my uplifted, enlightened friend is writing her Things I am Thankful for...I am ready to spew hatred, anger, and pure ugliness. Normally, I am the one who is overflowing with the "we are so blessed...", "things are so wonderful..." and "we have a great life..." comments but today, I just fell through the lovely, sticky sweet floor onto the greasy, dirty icky surface of "she is driving me crazy..", "I am just going to say I am an orphan...", "I'm getting too old for this s..."!

Earlier this same day, I was printing out a list of wonderful statements that were inspiring, uplifting, and left me feeling like flowers were paving my path. With this positive outlook, I decided to go visit my mother: just to share my positive attitude with her and bask in love.

What the hell was I thinking?

I'm so stressed that I can not even turn my neck. There is a vise holding it in place while a red hot metal poker is randomly piercing my shoulder blades. I am canceling Thanksgiving, boycotting Christmas, and the Easter bunny better stay away or he will be on the barbecue! I hate the way that she can get to me!
It has been this way for a long, long time. I haven't liked my mom for quite a while. Unfortunately, I love her unconditionally. So I keep going back to be exasperated, flabbergasted, and unbelievable pissed! She has this uncanny ability to get under my skin and then release her acidic posion. I let my mind replay her thoughtless comments and irrational accusations. I know that she is wrong. I know that she has created her own reality. I know that she has not been sane for a very long time. But I feel.... I feel the disbelief, the confusion, the hurt.

Over the years, I have become an island. I am a hermit in a city of almost 2 million people. I live in the city that people from all over the whole travel to for entertainment and fun. Yet, I stand on the sidelines merely observing. I share little about myself. I am distant in the same room. I feel disconnected and alienated. Often, I float above the room and observe from my personal monitor: watching the play unfold while being in the room but not part of the process. How did I end up on the outside? I played by the rules. I should be on the inside enjoying the gentle touch of my soul mate, sharing an inside joke with a lover, laughing with friend that have been sown over the last twenty years. Instead, I find myself being surprised by the sound of my own voice on Sunday morning because I have spoken since I dismissed my students on Friday afternoon.
I need to make a change. But how do I disconnect from my mother, my family, and the dysfunctionalism that binds us?

They like me, they really like me...

I am not one to mess with blubbering tearful reactions.  The last time I cried in response to something was when my brother passed away.  It was a time of relief and loss and hurt and....the adjectives could go on and on.  So, when I found myself delving into that silly emotional crevasse of my being, I was surprised and a little taken aback.  You see, I often deceive myself into thinking that rejection is just a part of life.  It is not painful and it really doesn't bother me.  I am used to the subtle approach as well as the flat out "We don't want you!" response. I generally shoot back with a "It's your lose" attitude.  

However, recently, I applied for a grant for a performance club I started at school. The grant would provide materials and supplies to be used with a wonderful bunch of children.  The response to the club, as you can read in my previous posts, was amazing if not extremely overwhelming.  As time passed (three weeks to be specific and a mere week before the reception for the grant winners) I embraced that fact that the grant must have been denied.  No problem.  I quickly searched the web and found Donorchoose.com and submitted yet another glorious plea for money.  

On Friday, a curious little letter arrived in my teacher box in the staff lounge.  It was from the Junior League of Nevada.  

"Oh, you poor people.  You have lost the opportunity to be involved with a lovely group of 157 budding actress, actors, and stagecrafters!" I lied to myself.  

Really, my heart was in the lower portion of my right leg, slowly beating to the song, "All by myself, don't wanna be All by myself."  

I very deliberately sat down in a chair in the lounge, silently told myself, "It's okay.  It really doesn't matter.  You will find another opportunity." 

I took a deep, cleansing breath, and carefully opened the small envelope.  

I began reading the rejection letter.

Dear Educator,

Thank you for your grant request.  We wish you success in your endeavor but we are unable.....

Wait, that is not what is says...

We would like to invite you to a reception in which you will be honored for your commitment to education and to receive your grant award....

Well, blow me over with a feather.  Are you kidding? Tear sprang from the dried, crusty portals of wherever tears come from.  I hadn't felt this much emotion in a decade (I know this because my divorce was final ten years and 1 day ago). 

It was cathartic.  It was mind blowing!  

"We got the grant, we got the grant!" I wanted to shout, running through the school, hugging all children (careful, swine flu!) and teachers: okay not all the teachers! But everyone was in class, teaching!  How rude!

I am still riding on the high of that message, that "We like you, we really like you" message.  It was bigger than just me, so my hopes were bigger than just me.  I am in it for the students so I think my previous disappointment was also wrapped up in the children.  Or else, maybe just maybe, if I look deep enough, I can admit that is is okay to cry at rejection.  Who knew I didn't have 2 inch thick skin like a rhinoceros? I am going to have to think about that one! It might just change my entire outlook and make it a bit more blurry.  You know, tears and all!

Reflection

"They forgot to tell us! or somebody stole the rule book!” I want to shout into the crowd.
How ironic! I sound like my students. Of course, nobody stole the book. It is truly doubtful that I was not told over and over again."You need to have a plan. What are you going to do with your life? Have you applied to a college or two? Have you thought about what you want to choose as a major?" Obviously, my listener was broke. My ears were working properly as far as I can remember. Now I find myself looking in the mirror and thinking about my past.Reflection is an evil monster. Sure, at first, it was lovely. Your 501s hug your firm little butt as you glance back checking your backside. Your hair is luxurious, bouncy and full of color. No need to cover the gray or the bulges. That is decades away, if ever!Well, hello decades away! You are not only on my front porch. You are in my house and lazily sprawled out on my couch eating Bonbons. Now the reflection contains gray hairs, wrinkles, and a future in the past covered in cellulite!
Whoa, don't misinterpret. Life is amazing. I am basking in the fullness of my gravity-based existence. But it was not part of my plan or should I say plan less plan. At least I am emboldened by the fact that I have not just floated along passively accepting my fate. I have reached out and changed my situation. I have hit the wall, bounced back and ran again with fortitude. Yes, I am bruised and a little more beat up than some, but I have never been broken. I am the big little engine that could. I just keep chugging along. In my younger days, someone told me that I was never satisfied:"When you get what you want, you throw it away." she accused.I have to disagree. Have you ever been in a situation where you got what you wanted and then found out that it was just a facade: an illusion? Is it wise to continue in the charade or to get the hell out before the option to get the hell out is gone?So, I guess reflection can be helpful and not necessarily painful. What will my reflection be in another forty years? Yes, I am stating right now that I will be lucid and have the capacity to be reflective in 40 years. Will my missteps in the first 40 years provide a solid foundation for the pursuits I have yet to embrace? I will have a plan this time: a vision. I do not have the luxury of skating by on my youthful ass or brilliant green eyes (not that I took full advantage of it at the time). My endeavors will depend on the depth of my knowledge and the lessons learned in the first 40 years.Happy trails!

Expect the Unexpected

Crazy is as crazy does....a little poetic license from Forrest Gump!  As I had previously noted on this blog, I started a performance club at my school.  The response was unbelievable: 157 students signed up.  More showed interest later but we had to say "no" due to the response.  I also had four other teachers offer (out of the goodness of their hearts) to help out.  How lucky am I? There was no way I could have possibly managed that many children by myself.  

Well, I had already planned to split the group into two: primary and intermediate.  Two of the teachers would help on Tuesday, the other two on Thursday of each week.  

On Monday, I received an email basically saying, "We are splitting from the intermediate group and having a performance in December. We have picked our own play.  We talk with you about the details later."  

Hmmm, was I just bumped from my own program?  Confused and surprised, I later did meet with the two splitters.  Now, normally, one would be upset about someone or ones coming in and hijacking their project.  Not me!  It is turning out even better than I had hoped or even dreamed!  You see, my original purpose and goal was to provide a club or activity for the students at my school.  It was never about me.  I wasn't looking for glory or an opportunity to put on a stress-filled performance with a bus load of children!  I do still have a little sanity! Now our students have a primary performance club and an intermediate performance club.  But wait! It gets even better.  The intermediate group has also had a bit of a split.  As luck would have it, the art teacher (one of the glorious volunteers) has created a stage crafting club for students in the performance club who want to participate but not necessarily perform.  That makes three clubs from the original one.  How exciting is that?  Who knew that all a person had to do was get the proverbial ball rolling and the altruistic, dramatic die-hards would literally pounce out of the wood work to get involved.  Isn't life a wonderful thing!  You just never know what will happen when you start your journey.  I am so glad I was able to part of such a funny, clever little adventure!  I will keep you updated.  This is only the third week.  Who knows what else could materialize!

A few days ago, I accidentally stumbled on to an inspired blog created by someone is consider to be very special. I have been writing term papers and required reports for over 16 years. Now I want to spend my time writing creative pieces and exploring a more the wonderous side of the written word. I was stunned by the injustice of not even being considered to be invited to such a glorious endeavor. Am I so innocuous that it did not occur to any of my three somebody specials that I would hop, skip, jump, crawl, and beg to be included?
"Well" my hateful, fanged twin sneered, "I will just start my own damn writers' workshop with much more interesting and talented people who I like so much better than you bunch of grapeheads!"
Unfortunately, I don't know any other group like them. Drats! Foiled in my own revenge. Where can I find such an eclectic group of writers without all the silly hang-ups of the people I am surrounded by? Without actually leaving the comfort of my little home...no where: that's where!
"Hello, everyone out there in cyberland, wanna write and share, and write, and share and eat and drink and critic?" I ask desperately in my little corner of sincity.
If you are fun-loving, uninhibited by fear of failure (that doesn't mean human doubts occasionally), willing to push the envelope, unwilling to accept the quid pro quo, and authentic in your reach to explore life, then you can be part of my blog....any takers?

Wishing for a small 85

Wow, 85 looks like such a wonderfully small group. The number is now up to 150 lovely little elementary students. My principal continues to chuckle as he passes me in the hallway while I deliver reminders to these drama stars. Maybe if I don't hand out reminders, then the numbers will dwindle. No, I would probably just have to field more phone calls. Not that I mind speaking with these exuberant parents, it is just that there are only so many hours in a day and so many days in a week.

I must give credit...There are four other teachers that have jumped on the "crazy drama cart" and are volunteering their time and talent. Thank goodness. I really cannot imagine how I would ever have managed to handle all of these children alone.

The response has been heartwarming. Children stop me in the hall daily, reminding me that they "saw" me in drama club. It's like being at the grocery store and being spotted by a student. They seems so surprised to "bump" into: like I am a real person or something crazy like that.

Thursday was the open house at the high school and so I was there to meet my daughter's teachers. The principal happily offered to let our "little" group use the theater for our performance in the spring. He seems genuinely pleased that we had started this group at our elementary school. I must say that I was take aback. Most responses that I have received from teachers and administrators alike is..."Have you lost your ........'n mind? Are you getting paid for this? NO? insane, that is what you must be!" So when this student-focus administrator smiled and said it was a great project, I could almost feel flowers popping out of my head and float up into the air! How's that for drama!!!!
Now, just to figure out what to do with them all next week....stay tuned!

Stop the bites!

I have a past blog about how I had bitten off more than I could chew!  And yet, here I am again.  Except this bite is turning out to be a HUGE bite: huge as in  85 students and still more signing up.  

You see, I started this performance club at my school.  I have been pushing to have a club at the school for the 5 years that I have been there.  Well, my principal finally agreed and I wrote a grant...hopefully it will be approved... and then I distributed a sign-up to all the 1-5 grade students then I sat back to see if there was any response.  

Did I say 85 yet?  and the deadline is not until Monday.  My sister asked what my expectations were from the start.  I guess I thought that about 40 students would sign up.  I have decided to keep a blog about this experience.  That way, at the end of the "experiment", I will be able to reflect on the experience and decide if I should question my sanity and see a therapist.  

So happy acting to me- everyone needs a little drama in their life.