My Day Off or My Money Problem

I have a lovely day off today. During this day I am going to paint fat ladies, take down wallpaper, decorate a little bit, do some Christmas shopping and definitely wrap some presents. I will also go to the bank and put in a decent amount of money (for me anyways) before I have to give some of it away…Well sort of. I guess I am obligated to make that car payment. Great stuff Really.

But for the most part I am going to have a great day and try not to spend money. That is very hard for me. It is like I can feel the money in my pocket vibrating, ready to explode whenever I am around a pair of shoes for me, or jewelry for my mom, or any other stupid fucking thing I could possibly buy for my boyfriend, my sisters, my friends, my acquaintances. I DON’T GIVE A SHIT! I JUST WANT TO BUY CHIRSTMAS PRESENTS!!!!

It stresses me out know I have money because I want to immediately continue shopping. Its a problem. I am problem.

Hi, My name is Molly, and I am problem.

Whatever. I just want to have a good Christmas. Yesterday, my youngest sister Meave was dying to go to Walmart to buy some decorations and after she wore me and my mom down for a solid 30 minutes we gave in and did it. When I got home from work, the family room was clean, vacuumed and there were lights and mistletoes and tinsel and garland everywhere. Stockings were hung and little pinecone ornaments were marking the days till Christmas. It was pretty fucking cute.

SO much for my day off, I am going to go out and stress out….Maybe I can talk myself into a calm.

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.

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.