thirtyseven words

well, now that the ball is rolling, i may as well dump some of the *actual* stuff that's been rattling around my head lately.

i turned 37 a few days ago. my brother would have turned 35 yesterday. it's a weird time of year anyway- anniversaries i'm not keen to remember. getting older. weather changing.

this year it's particularly brutal.

i realized a while ago that i'm smack dab in the middle of possibly the most classic mid life crisis of all time:

the oldest child is out of high school and attempting to make his way in the adult world. he's 2 years older than i was when i had him.

the youngest child has started high school and is, almost frantically, searching for ways to be more grown up (not a bad thing- his list includes taking better care of himself/his clothes, maintaining grades for college, and a girlfriend). 

i sold my house, i quit my job, i bought a car because it's pretty, i've added to the tattoos, even took a trip to vegas. i have a pool, all i need is the pool boy and the mid life bingo boxes will all be checked.

i've been spending my days watching all the movies in my disney collection and spending money that i probably shouldn't be. BUT IN MY DEFENSE, I REALLY NEEDED THOSE TATTOO BOOKS.

not so long ago my oldest brother made a comment about my tattoos, hair color, being "one of those letters," i can't remember which. he usually is able to hit on all of them at some point in his notoriously short conversations. i remember this time thought that he referred to me as being rebellious.

"DUDE, i'm in my 30's. i'm a mom. WHO AM I REBELLING AGAINST?"

at a certain point, maybe, doubtfully, he'll realize that i'm just me. 

which made me think: how many "rebellious" teenagers are just people that managed to discover their true self early on in life and learned to BE THAT PERSON, even if it required struggle and labeling and misunderstanding?

when my oldest son was born the doctors and nurses laughed at my black nail polish- "...it's making the baby go crosseyed."

they laughed at the "phase" i was going through.

my son is now almost 20 and my nails are still black. 

that's a helluva phase.

i just wish i was as bold and sure in life as i have been about my nail polish.

i wasn't a rebellious teenager. i literally sat in my closet reading books as a kid (it sounds weird, but if they can't find you, they can't bother you). i went to church every sunday and wednesday without arguing. i did dishes and kept my room clean. i did my homework and maintained a decent GPA.

now, that's not to say i didn't have a rebellious streak- i quit piano lessons because the assholes kept shoving me in competitions playing classical music when all i wanted to do was learn honkey tonk and rag time and just PLAY.

i got suspended from high school my freshman year but it was because i was being bullied and had my life threatened numerous times and no one would listen until i tried to come up with (the wrong) solutions myself.

i spent my senior year pregnant because FINALLY, FOR ONCE a boy liked me and "friends" told me the only way to keep a boyfriend was to have sex with him...they just forgot the condom part of that discussion.

i didn't seek trouble, i wasn't trying to make any points, i wasn't trying to BE anything special. trouble still found me though. that is one thing i've always been exceptional at. you need anything beta tested? want to test the durability on something? have an idea you're not sure if it's good or not? hit me up. no one is ever completely worthless. you can always be held up as the bad example. goofus always looked like he was having a better time than gallant anyway. suck and egg.

looking back, i'm honestly jealous of those "rebellious" teenagers- imagine being that bold and confident in who you are as a young person that you're willing to go against the crowd. yeah, maybe at times some of them were just being shitheads. but probably the majority were just trying to be themselves. and yes, as they've grown they may have left certain parts of that behind- stopped shopping at hot topic, taken a piercing or two out, taken a corporate job "for the man," but maybe some chased their dreams with confidence. maybe some became confident leaders. maybe some became the game changers and the perspective shifters we've all come to look to when things get shitty.

circling back, i want to be that bold.

i wrote myself a stoner note the other day:

figure out how to be stoner you all the time. the one that yells at wheel of fortune and says the things you think. be the person that writes about being so old you pee a little when you take a particularly good hit. be the person that is open and honest and not over analyzing every. single. thought. be the person that says things. start the awkward conversations. talk about the embarrassing topics.

stoner me is wise.

stoner me also really likes to dance, much to the dismay of anyone within viewing range.

circling back again, thirty seven is starting off weird. my mid life crisis is bumming me out. unemployment isn't all it's cracked up to be. i'm not a rebel, but i wish i knew how to be. i also wish i knew what i wanted to be when i was growing up. that information would be useful right about now. but that's a whole other topic that's been rattling around.

becoming...?

i’ve been in this strange transition type thing lately. i’m not sure what it is or how to describe it really. it's not really a re-invention since i'm not starting from scratch, but it is more than simply changing the favorite ice cream flavor. maybe it’s simply growing up and i’m just now catching on.

i know we all go through a continuous cycle of change and becoming who we are and all the cliche things that we see on plaques and pinterest posts all over the place. they’re cliche for a reason. i don’t mind the process, i welcome it. i don’t want to stay the same person forever. that would mean i’ve closed my mind, stopped learning, stopped seeking, stopped growing. i never want to stop any of those things.

i guess my struggle, if you could call it that, is learning to balance the process out. writing for the magazine has been AMAZING. i’m writing, #1. actually writing. getting my voice out there. a voice that was picked because of what it is. i can’t even begin to say how exciting that is. i was asked to be on this magazine because of who i am. not because i’m a writer and they wanted to twist my words. i AM what they were looking for, as i am now. mouthy, sassy, brash, vocal, raw honesty, all of it. i love the things i’m learning. i love doing photo shoots, interviewing artists, coming up with new ideas, watching it each issue grow and take on a life all its own. my creativity has jumped back to the forefront, there’s a million ideas chasing around in my head all the time, new things to try, ideas for articles, everything. i’m stepping into a world i’ve never been in and learning to still love myself even though i don’t always feel comfortable or in place. i’m not used to art shows, models, photographers, being in pictures and on camera. it’s totally different and new and fucking SCARY.

here’s the strange thing- the more i step into this new world, the more old pieces of me have been surfacing. and i’m not quite sure what to do with that yet.

back in the day (a wednesday, of course). i used to be an entirely different person. perhaps i shouldn’t say ENTIRELY- there’s still pieces of that girl floating around. in high shool i went through a few incarnations- mostly a nerd, there was also an “i dont care” phase where in there was some terrifically bad hair and ill fitting mens tee shirts (remember big dog brand? oh yeah...i had those). there was the country phase in which i tried like hell to be pretty, do my hair, wore wranglers and boots most days and had a few shirts like this: that i LOVED (oh the days when i wasn’t embarrassed if my midriff showed). i slowly morphed into a cheerleader and tried even harder to be pretty (when your mum doesn’t believe in any hair products/tools, make up, anything even remotely feminine, it’s harder than you’d imagine). during this whole time i was a nice, quiet book nerd, kept to myself- partly out of my natural self, partly out of all sorts of trouble that i’d been in my first few years of high school. better to be invisible as much as possible. i went to church every sunday and wednesday, had taken a purity pledge- no sex til marriage, did what my parents said, did my school work as well as i could, had very few friends, just kind of...there.

i got knocked up and became a mom before really having a chance to know who i wanted to be when i grew up- almost overnight i was “up”. went to college and got a LITTLE bit of self, got married and lost that, and have spent the last 9 years figuring out what and who i want to be now. even that’s changed- 6 years ago i SWORE i would never leave my small little town. 3 years ago i could have never imagined NOT being a corporate stooge. now i have no idea what tomorrow holds.

my homes have shifted over the years- from hand me down personality and furniture to “country” comfortable (oh, so, much, blue) and now i guess it could be called eclectic at best. i’ve always had pictures of family, art other people thought i would like, art i actually DO like, slowly, it’s grown into MY house. everything here is something i picked and brought in. i appreciate the help from people over the years, but it’s finally me. dark wood furniture, comfortable seating, fancy flashes here and there, strange pieces that shouldn’t fit but do, things i looked for FOREVER, things i found and instantly fell in love with. even that is shifting though- i think it’s time to put away the memorial for my dad, keep a few things out and tuck the rest away. time to have a family WALL instead of shotgunned through the house and let the rest be art that i love and want to show to people. my voice is changing again. i love it. i’m just not sure where it’s going.

back to the original point, the more i change the more flashes of past selves are emerging. i’m comfortable again in jeans and teeshirts, gone are the office clothes and slacks and fitted shirts of not so long ago. my music (much to the horror of those around me) has shifted back to country. as much as i want to dress up in a ball gown for the magazine launch party, i just as badly want to put on some jeans and boots and go line dancing at a back-woods bar. i’ve LOVED having people over for bbqs and dinners and random things. that’s something i wanted to do years ago but lost somewhere along the way.

there’s also the newer me- the one more willing to stand up for herself and speak her mind. i’m realizing (slowly but surely) that i’m worth a damn lot more than i give myself credit for. i’m creating art, meeting people, taking chances, pushing myself (with help). i’m comfortable giving my opinions, being my whole self, walking away from poisonous things without worrying about the other person instead of myself. i’ve had the chance to step away from what i HAD to do and have been able to try what i wanted to do. i’ve also learned to recognize and admit that it isn’t working and have gown enough to know there’s a balance there. i can seek the stability i need and still keep the things i love- at least some of them. now i need to learn to do that with myself, not just my circumstances. there’s room for a tattooed, country, unconventional, mouthy, conservative, artistic, honest, down home, glamorous rebel in the world, isn’t there?