Lunacy Me, Now You Don't

“Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we should dance.” -unknown This quote is floofy as heck, but it resonated with me this morning as I compare the self of 5 years ago to the woman sitting here writing this. I’ve found a coffee roaster and cafe in Vienna, Virginia, because I’m like a hound dog and can sniff out local coffee holes from leagues away. It’s a special skill. I started a nannying job last week, a two-month gig where you work long hours and go hard until the next job crops up. It happens to be quite a commute away and I am not hating the sunrise scenes and podcast time in the car each day. But, man, am I exhausted. I am a fill-in for their “main” nanny, and it’s all consuming, with childcare as a portion of the duties. In two weeks I feel like I’ve become a part of the family, and I sing nursery rhymes in my sleep. No lie, I woke up this morning singing “three little kittens have lost their mittens, and they began to cry…”...I could do ...

Picture yourself as a kid, and you’ve experienced a really great weekend, like a family reunion, or something? All your cousins were there, everyone running around, laughing, and eating food off the grill. Maybe you were the family that hosted it that year, and finally the time comes for everyone to pack into their cars and drive back to their respective homes. Maybe it’s only a short drive away, but the last car pulls out of the drive and you get a feeling like a gut punch. You don’t understand the waves of emotion rolling over your tiny mind. You were just in heaven not three hours ago! Is it melancholy? Is it loneliness? Is it the first realization that all good things must come to an end? Maybe you cry, hug your mom, and wonder when the feeling of sadness will go away (give it 30 minutes and a VHS tape). You were surrounded not too long ago, and now the dust is settling and it’s just you and your immediate family again. Everything is quiet and you are left. You.  I...

My first sip of coffee each morning is done looking through the window over the sink in the kitchen. It doesn’t matter which house, because most homes I’ve lived in, save for one, have had a window directly over or next to the kitchen sink. I did this while living in our rented farmhouse last year surrounded by fields and cows. There was a trailer park next door, where we got to know the most wonderful dog named Jericho, and his owner. One of the RV’s constantly called an ambulance, like every two weeks, but the workers seemed calm, as if it were a time-honored tradition (against their will). Another trailer housed two black labradors and an owner who warned other dogs not to get too close, even when crossing through your yard (property’s a construct anyway). The trailer behind that had a wooden fence that echoed the sounds of premature teenage fits from a 9-year-old boy, directed at his mother in regards to playing or retiring for the evening.  This morning tradition of taki...

Vacation is leaving something one previously occupied. The act of vacating is used as a refresher and a means to get away from work and responsibilities. Mental chores, on the other hand, cannot be left at the kennel or stored at the post office for two weeks time. You can’t run away from your mind, at least not for long. Our “things” come traipsing right along with us, with vacating merely allowing us to stand beyond spitting distance with heightened clarity to assess. What clarity have I found, you ask? Well, pretty clear skin, some clear ocean water, and a clear need for connection. #needy While traveling with my mom, I’ve been working on a math problem, long-form answer. Who are we as people separate from what we do? Work, relationships, hobbies. See, as an artist, I find this difficult to answer. As an actor, you’re often seen as who you play onstage, the way your voice sounds, and the shapes your body cuts when you dance. A romantic notion, but when you come home at nigh...

What a 12 hours it has been. Quick second--I need more coffee. There we go. Now, let’s see if I can blend this coffee mixture without it exploding over the kitchen for the second time. It’s been a hell of a 12 hours. The kind that you just want to laugh at because it’s ridiculousness wages a war on your senses and you can’t figure out which way is up and which way is down. I’ve always been a procrastinator. I’d say it’s a superpower of mine. I’d wait until midnight to start studying for that day’s math test and then throw a fit over the mad dash and pressure as if time was a new concept and I was the Universe’s guinea pig. I still wait until the last possible second to leave the house in order to get someplace on time, and have a talent at figuring out how to find just enough activities each morning that I don’t quite give myself enough time to get dressed and properly groomed. I’m usually eating while I drive, especially heading to evening performances. I’ve heard it ...

The fact that it is already this far into the new year astounds me. You fill your days with projects, work, people, and before you know it there’s a winding path left behind you and you’ve done many things and seen many people and you wish you could gather it all up again and hold it in your arms to admire it.  But, you can’t. You can’t have everything at once, all the time. That’s a hard reality. One step at a time, sister Susie. I came into this year with a goal of doing less and a goal of letting go. I also had a goal of not writing down goals. Because, honestly? That shit stresses me out. I do, in fact, use one of those intense day planners because if I don’t I wouldn’t remember a dang thing. I also LOVE making lists. Like, love it. I didn’t want to write down goals though, but rather retain them. What I mean by that, is if it’s something I truly and deeply want to pursue, there’s absolutely no need to write it down. I will manifest it because I’m being called to. Or...