Meave

Yesterday I sat down and cried out of envy of my sisters.

Both are younger than me and I am not very old to begin with. We are all artists. I am a theatre artist, a director and a painter. My first sister is a singer and a songwriter and a damn good ukulele player and my second sister is the most wonderful little dancer. We all share a common goal though, despite our spectrum of interests…

The best way to explain that goal is thusly: Meave, the youngest sister dances with a school that goes to competition. That is not its whole focus, but there are many girls in the school who look forward to it. Now, competition dancing is the farthest thing from art that there is and in a family full of artist this little fact does not, even for a second, escape our attention. But it was Meave’s fist competition and she is seeing all of these pieces that are put together for the sake of technique or thrown together to display one cheezy wow factor like an awful prop or costumes or ridiculous “message”. None of the dances were choreographed from any piece of soul or made to express any suffering, passion, love or despair. It was all purely for the sake of competition.

Riding home with my mother that night Meave was very upset – My mother was a dancer too, a ballerina and a modern dancer with the most amazing vision that it still makes me cry even though she hasn’t choreographed in years. She was trying to pull the reasons out of Meave, as one has to when dealing with my youngest sister. Meave slowly reveals that on top of her disappointment with the quality of work expected, she was talking to the other girls from her school and she asked them what they want to be when they grow up. Flippant answers like “I want to be a Rockette,” “I want to be a dance teacher.” And other such things with not much though behind it.

Meave was crying when she admitted “Mama, I want to change with world!”

With dance. Meave is 13 now, maybe 12 when she said this. She has found her passion and I have never seen anyone of any age work as hard as she does to achieve the things that she has. I believe in her ability so greatly, so much more than my own.

And yesterday she was at this amazing workshop and she was being acknowledged in front of the whole place and was being complimented and praised. And I sat there, 8 1/2 years older than she is, and I cried because I never thought I would be as good as she is and will be.

I felt disgustingly inadequate to be a part of my family. I immediately went out and began working on a play with my partner to feebly try to reassemble my ego.

That helped a little.

I can’t ever stop thinking about what I want to be. I will never stop reaching for it. I can’t. I shut down, lose focus and stop caring about my life when I stop trying. I lost meaning when I stop trying.

So why have I been so stagnant these past few months? I am waiting for my train to roll into the station. I am waiting for that door to open and a conductor to tell me to get my ass moving and get on the god damned train. I know that sounds lazy, like I can’t do it for myself. But I know – I know when It is time. It is so obvious to me. I just haven’t been trusting that. I need to go with my gut. The same gut that tells Meave what she wants out of her life and guides her into the next move.

I am biding my time. I am playing the long game. I just keep forgetting that.

Optimism and a Healthy Dose of Reality! OR The Career Assesment

My friend had a career assessment done. I think it’s because she is in a very similar place to me. The world and life that she prepared for is not turning out to be what she expected or wanted. I am not feeling lost in terms of my field, I want to be in theatre. No I am not all gung ho right now, but I know it will come back to me – it always does.

I am afraid that when she tells me how it turned out she will say that she is leaving the theatre (in general) and moving on. When that happens it saddens me. I feel like I have lost a comrade or a sister in arms fighting to bring our art into the world. Especially because she was my partner in college. We put up all of our shows together. She was my person, sitting right behind me saying “YES! And now what it…” And she always thought of the craziest shit. She wanted extravagance – everything to be perfect. I was the cynical one, I was the one who saw the flaw in the plan – And with our powers of optimism and a healthy dose of reality we literally could do anything!

I will support her because there are a lot of other things she could do and be very good at. But I will miss her.

Who am I kidding? If I ever had a project or a scheme or a plan she would be on board in a heartbeat. I could be blowing this out of proportion.

I don’t know.

I am an Existential Humanist or Why I Hate the Term “Atheist”

I know that I am one thing, even if there aren’t many things on that certainty list.

I am an Existential Humanist – I am sure other people have called themselves that but I did put that together for myself.

I am an atheist but I don’t like the term. I don’t like being defined as “without god.” I was never raised with god. I was never ever with god even remotely. SO, thusly, I don’t like being defined by something I have never been associated with except in opposition to. That tells you absolutely nothing about me.

I have told people this before and they have literally responded with “How Sad.” This is amazing to me. First of all it is rude. I would never dream of talking to a new person in my life and have them tell me they were Christian or Jewish or Muslim and have my response to be “I am so terribly sorry for your life.” That has never once crossed my mind. But when people learn about me they all of sudden see a poor orphan who was never loved enough. I know! I know exactly why they feel this way – I know so well that for those for whom damnation is a very real thing they see a dead woman walking. I know. And they suddenly feel bad for my soul – or worse, decide it is their job to save me. I get it. But please know, if this have ever been your response, it is quite rude.

Since I grew up having to explain myself (in many different ways as the years progressed) I became very good at it, very patient, and very tolerant. Not the common stereotype of an atheist – which is why I really want to be in my own category of Existential Humanist!

I don’t have anything against those who like the term atheist. My mother is one of them. But she was once part of that world. Catholic world to be precise. I never was. She is now without god – where as I have always been that way. It means something to people who have removed themselves, who have separated through their own very personal, very powerful journey. I would never dream of minimizing those journeys. Mine was different. I had to find a way to reconcile my beliefs for myself. I knew what my mother believed and I was essentially on the same page, but like anyone with their faith or beliefs, I had to make them my own. That is when I realized that atheist was not enough for me.

There are some atheists who are very angry – angry that god isn’t real in their lives anymore – and for me, for those people god still exists as an enemy for them. That is not atheism.

And ATHEISM is not a cohesive belief. We are only united by our lack, that does not mean we have anything in common. But if you tell me you are an atheistic existentialist – we necessarily have something to talk about.

I follow a lot of what Sartre says. I make my choices that define me in everyway. I am really into taking responsibility for my actions in the most essential way. This is how I define my life. This is how I define what is important. My actions and my non actions, my choices, my relationships and how I deal with life on a day to day basis. This is the most optimistic outlook for me. I am in complete control of my life and I can take any steps I want toward any possible end. It is exciting, it is scary and it is so alive and full of vigor and anticipation and happiness and sadness and all of that is ok! I am one of the most “look on the bright side” kind of people. I can get upset, but at the end of the day I choose to be ok or I choose to cry, knowing that that is my choice too – and their are time where I give myself permission to do that.

I believe in the potential of humans to create and place value in their lives, their creations, their worlds. I live for me and anyone and anything else that is important to me – my family, my art, my friends, and my love of all things worth my loving. I cannot think of another way I would want to go through my life.

Christmas Shopping…Before Thanksgiving…and I’m Broke

Gross, I just watched a bunch of Extreme Couponers with my sisters….It makes me feel bad about live for several contradicting reasons.

I wish I could extreme coupon for Christmas. I don’t know, maybe I can. I haven’t looked.

Enough of the Pity Party!
I LOVE GIVING GIFTS! Right?! It really is awesome. I am new to this feeling, not being very old and very recently being able to buy things for people with my own money. But there are very few things that feel as good as giving a really well thought out, personal, awesome fucking gift!

My dad was/is the best gift giver I have ever known. Him and my mom don’t go so well together, but even she admits to his amazing taste in jewelry and clothing and overall appropriate gift-ness. We once gave her a necklace and earrings that was in several larger boxes, one of which was filled with golf balls. If we want you to be really excited about a gift, we make you first believe that you will never in a million god-damned years get it…so that when you do you cry, we laugh, then you laugh while hitting us and then eventually hug us. It’s a great experience! Seriously!

Now all I have to do is pass this gift on over to my boyfriend so I can feel the love too. Our first Christmas while living together. He won’t even know what hit him.

Now how does that make you feel?

Yes I go to a therapist. I wear that proudly. And if you do too, right on man!

I truly dislike when people call it a shrink or any other dismissive name and refuse to entertain the idea that they themselves could very likely benefit from one too.

I do not have any major psychological trauma or any condition which requires professional help. But I know that there are times when I cannot, on my own, work my way through my feelings, thoughts, and general psychic chaos that I really and truly need unbiased, educated help. What I see in someone who chooses to see a therapist is someone who takes time to work on themselves and think about the way their mind and body work.

I think about how I go through life all of the time. It is basically constant (it may even get in the way occasionally) but I wouldn’t stop even if you asked me to. If I wasn’t working on myself, who would?

Not to mention it is totally interesting! I mentioned before that I took one of those personality tests which just shined a light on a little more truth of myself. Some things that I did not want to admit.

I know that I am not 100% who I want to be. Some of that I can change and grow and become…and the rest? Well I am just shit out of luck, because I have to learn to accept some of the shit that I do as essentially part of me. No I am not made of stone and I could entirely change over time – who knows. But for right now, I am going to have to accept that I get bored with small projects…and I probably always will. I will not just keep my house clean and I will never just do it without thinking about it- I will have to work at being organized and neat. Sometimes I am selfish and sometimes I am wrong and I need to know that just admitting it does not make it ok, but accepting it and apologizing for it – that can help.

These are things I think about when I am thinking about myself. These are things that I work on with my therapist. These are important to my emotional and mental health and growth as a member of the human race.

What work have you done lately?

What I want this Blog to Be

I think I might let the title stand “What I want to be…”

But the difference between what I think this means now and what I thought I meant when I made it vast.

I started this blog my senior year of college…and now I am no longer in college. I have discovered it is a lot harder to be what I want in the real world. So I think I am going to focus on how to be a real person and how to actually get to what I want to be…

Ultimately I want the same things, those things just aren’t as apparent and present in my life right now. Maybe I will find a way to those things again…and maybe I will find other things. I have just wanted the same thing for so long that I’m not sure I know how to want something else. I’ve had one idea of myself…I am very afraid that I am just not that person…But who knows.

Not me.

That’s the problem.

Title Optional

I know I don’t write here much…and I know even few people read this thing.

But I have lost touch.

I took a personality test last night- the Meyer’s Briggs one.

ENFP
Extravert(1%)  iNtuitive(75%)  Feeling(50%)  Perceiving(22)%
  • You have marginal or no preference of Extraversion over Introversion (1%)
  • You have distinctive preference of Intuition over Sensing (75%)
  • You have moderate preference of Feeling over Thinking (50%)
  • You have slight preference of Perceiving over Judging (22%)

It explained me perfectly. Weird how accurate but I guess that’ the point. In the explanation it said that I get bored – I am great to have on projects and in brainstorming sessions but I get bored with small tasks and sometimes I will just walk away to do something else…This is disgustingly true and these little facts make TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT I WANT TO BE WHEN I GROW UP FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE!

Hi, I’m Molly and I’m a Post-Grad.

Fuck me, man. I don’t know what I want. The directing stuff I’ve written about before is still top of my list but I am not focusing enough to get there. I am impatient and I want something to work on now! I don’t want to wait for it to fall into my lap – I want it to fall into my lap now.

I know I’m not alone in this feeling. But what good does that do me? We are all just a group of blind people in a dark room looking for the door – jokes on us – there is not door. 

 

I’m not saying that we are screwed, that I am screwed…but right now – that’s what it feels like. Woopde fucking doo – that degree is my magic carpet and I am going to ride all the way to my waitressing job.