If insomnia is what I’m currently dealing with due to stress from last year, it’s got some fucked up timing. I mean, why didn’t it just show up last year? Come to think of it, everything in my life seems to have some pretty fucked up timing. I say that with the utmost sincerity, for better or worse. It doesn’t necessarily bother me that things in my life seem to have happened in some alternate, parallel universe. I think my friend Michael said it best; “Liz, your life is multi-dimensional”. Admittedly, it does rain on my parade when I want or need (at least in my opinion) something and it doesn't ever come, or happen exactly how and when I want it to.
To be fair, I acknowledge, though things haven’t always played out in my life how I wished, the alternate routes have lead me down some interesting paths. Some with treasure at the end, some of them with stacks of, How I Learned, text books. At the finish line of some of the trails I’ve found kindred spirits that are now a part of my daily life; familiar and comforting. Most notably, all of the paths I’ve traveled down have been rich with story and plot ideas for my writing.
I feel as if life is a giant, encyclopedia sized, “choose your own adventure,” book.
One of the chapters in my adventure book has been a challenging read to say the least. I’m not sure if I’m even close to finishing this chapter yet. Since I chose this alternate chapter, (which coincidentally, was exactly a year ago today) I’ve been trying to figure out how it ties into the rest of the story. How will it affect the ending on my book of life?
February 25, 2009
It was mid-afternoon. I sat at the kitchen table in my mother’s home, laptop open, checking my email. Waiting for the page to load…still waiting…waiting…then FINALLY it opened. I found the best news ever sitting in my inbox. It was a message from The Texas Shakespeare Festival Theatre Company. I clicked on it immediately.
The enclosed news was a job offer with the company as a resident properties artisan. This probably sounds like some bullshit thing if you’re not familiar with theatre, but it was a HUGE deal for me. Particularly, because the job they were offering me was in my field of study; technical theatre. Also honored to be offered the position while I was still in my early 20’s. I was so excited! YESSS!!!! My dreams were going to spring from this launch pad opportunity!!! And the salary + all travel expenses paid was more than enough, especially considering that I was going to be working, doing what I love, AND get paid for it.
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!!!”, was the phrase I couldn’t stop repeating as my eyes, wide open, stayed glued to the LCD screen. My mother, lounged out in the living room on the loveseat, woke from her sunbath nap to the sound of my talking turned to shouting. She stretched and bounced off the couch. Coyly, she slinked into the kitchen. I turned the laptop around so she could read the email. She sat down at the table on the bench seated across from me. I watched her eyes scan over the email. Even though she was pretending to be disaffected, she knew how amazing this news was.
Let it be known that my mother, the Taurean Bull Queen, has never been one to jump up and get excited about anything. But on this day, she found the strength within herself and flashed a smile at me. Then she slipped back into her royal rights as The Bull Queen and began dictating her orders to me.
“This is an opportunity of a lifetime and we’re moving to Texas anyway. You have to go. Your brothers and I will help you with Adam’s care over the summer so don’t worry about that. I was already kind of planning on it anyway because I knew once you got your application in, they would see how much experience you had and I just knew they would hire you.”
Her sincere optimism and belief in my creative work inspires and makes me anxious, all at once. I’m grateful, even if only one person is a fan of my work. Yes; even if that only person is my mother. Some people don’t even get that. Especially those working in the art field. Its not unheard of for parents to be disappointed in their child’s decision to make art a way of life. Its true, there are people who believe this career field is not an acceptable way to make a living. I got lucky. My parents have always supported my, “art is life,” mentality.
After my kum-bi-yah moment, panic set in. What if I sucked compared to the rest of the staff? What if I couldn’t handle being away from Adam that long? What if I couldn’t handle being away from my boyfriend? “Oh shit, that’s right! Gotta talk this over with the boyfriend,” I suddenly remembered.
“I need a cigarette.”
I grabbed my lighter and pack of Marlboro Smooths off the kitchen counter, and headed out through the front door. It felt amazing outside. The temperature was mild, not a single cloud in the sky, and the sun felt good as it warmed up the bare part of my arms. I lit a cigarette, inhaled relief, then grabbed my phone out of my front pocket. I stared at the screen for a while and before I knew it, I was almost done smoking.
I wanted to call everyone else in my phone to celebrate the good news, but I knew I had to call him first. I hesitated because I knew he would be far from celebratory about the news. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how he was going to respond. I knew for certain though, he wouldn’t be excited about the idea of me living and working at a theatre festival over the summer without him. I stood up and started pacing on the sidewalk. In my head, I went over how I was going to tell him the news, practicing a different form of subtlety in each potential way.
While lighting another cigarette, I ventured further out from the house and out onto the driveway. Now the sun fully embraced my body and my legs appreciated all the attention and TLC the sun's rays were giving them. Looking down at my feet I noticed some pieces of broken sidewalk chalk. I sat down and began drawing. I drew boats, pirates w/eye-patches and hooks for hands, stars, ocean waves, palm trees and sand. After an hour passed, I was intoxicated from my sun light binge and sidewalk chalk fix.
“Just talk to him,” I reassured myself, and I pulled my cell phone from my pocket again and began to dial.
This was the official starting point of the, “choose your own adventure.”
