hiccups.

At the most inopportune moments, it twitches.
Just a brief flicker, nothing obvious.
But enough to make my thoughts restart and then I'm back to 5 seconds ago.
5 seconds? you ask.
What do 5 seconds matter?
They matter because it's an interruption. A pause. A blip.
And I don't have time for a gap.
I don't have 5 seconds.
I have now. And later. But not then.
You can't regain "then."
You can't go back to "then."
Then just happened, and with these twitches resetting my "now," too many nows are becoming irreplaceable thens.
And I don't need that.
Don't want that.
Can't have that.

I'm a routine person.

Not an organized person, just one who's keen on routine.
And rhymes.
And alliterations.
But let's stick with routine for now.
Each part of each moment of each day has a place.
Adjustments can, and must, be made at times.
But only if they have to be.
Only if it's absolutely necessary.
I would love to write everything in pen - black ballpoint pen - but I know how that goes.
Scribbles.
That's where penned notes end up; beneath layers of scribbles.
You can try all you want to make the scribbles look like planned doodles.
But they're not.
They're scribbles.
Feeble attempts to erase what was meant to be a concrete plan.
A scheduled event.
Something you took the time to write down.
To think about.
To plan around.
And now it's just a jumble of squiggles, staring up at you.
Taunting that you should know better by now.
That things aren't neat.
Aren't clean.
Aren't permanent.
Just penned thoughts about routine, waiting to be coated with scribbles by the day's end.
I like routine.
Schedules.
Plans.
But I'm not clueless.
And my scribbles look damn good.

WICKED.

I got to go behind the scenes at the Orpheum before Wicked last night to take pictures of the "greening of Elphaba." It was a fantastic opportunity and experience, and reminded me how much I miss theater.

Some of the pictures I took were put into a slide show for WCCO's website and can be seen here:
http://wcco.com/slideshows/wicked.musical.twins.20.863462.html

I can't claim ownership of the captions, but I did take the photographs.

Take a look if you'd like, and let me know your thoughts :)

frozen.

They say you learn something new every day. But when you really discover something that has never occurred to you before, you can feel it; that jolt inside you that causes you to pause that all-consuming, never-ending, constantly-swirling stream of thought that fills your head. It makes you freeze. Not for long, but enough for you to process this actual new information. It doesn't happen often since most "fresh" ideas are simply reincarnations of old information; a previously received gift re-wrapped in shinier paper. But when it does, allow life to be put on hold for a second.

-

The conversation was nothing unexpected. The usual niceties were exchanged, followed by the "How was your week?" scenario. The dimmed lights eased me, and I pulled my legs up beneath me, becoming a pretzel. With long legs, it's always a trial-and-error process discovering the most comfortable position. One leg crossed often leads to a sleeping foot; dangling isn't an option, unless perched on a stool of some kind; allowing them to rest openly looks more manly than I'd prefer. And so cross-legged seemed to be my best bet. Plus, open body language is a good thing, so I'm told.


As the conversation progressed, I felt myself loosen; my mind relaxed and my body unwound as my mouth realized that this was one space, one time that it could say what it longed to say without censoring itself; without fearing the repricussions that always seemed to tag along after all my words, teasing me into the silent submissive self that I'd come to loathe the past few weeks. Never in my life have I been described as quiet, and yet I had found myself longing for that virtue lately. Wishing I could more readily just shut up already; keep my thoughts inside without feeling like I would explode. But that's just not me.

I AM:
FORTHRIGHT. OUTSPOKEN. DIRECT. INDEPENDENT. STRONG.

i loathe:

failing, appearing weak, taking orders, not knowing, being misunderstood

And now I find myself free from the past weeks, the confusions, the lectures. Free from the judgment, the scolding, the disapproval. I find myself FREE. So I embrace it.

I let it out.

I voice my frustrations.

I say exactly what I want.

I do not. hold. back.

I pause and look up, realizing I may have gone too far. Have I said too much? Expressed too many truths? Been too vulnerable? Does anyone really want to hear about all this, about me?

AND THEN SHE SAYS SOMETHING ENTIRELY AND COMPLETELY NEW.

She tells me that my strengths, those specific qualities I possess that make me who I am and have gotten me where I am today, are also my weaknesses. By being forthright, I cause others to create barriers. By being outspoken, I invite others to silence me. By being direct, I make others feel uncomfortable. By being independent, I separate myself from community. By being strong, I weaken my ability to be vulnerable. MY STRENGTHS ARE ALSO MY WEAKNESSES.

and i am now

confused
conflicted
uncertain
turned around
lost
trapped.

I find myself frozen in that moment. The surreal effect of learning something truly new about myself forces me to reset. I look down at my hands, twisting my ring as I always do when I'm unsure how to react. "You're absolutely right," I say, looking her in the eyes for the first time since my rant. "So, now what?"

now what?

now what?

NOW WHAT?

I think. I regroup. I evaluate.
that's what.

But I also change. Not drastically, but enough; enough to move forward and not make the same mistakes, enough to show that I can - and will - listen, enough to prove that I do have some strengths that do not double as weaknesses.

And with change comes growth.

I uncross my legs and lean forward, placing my head in my hands as I recover from this discovery about myself. And as it sinks in, my mind starts to churn again. A new challenge in place, I resume the conversation and wait for my next opportunity to pause life and simply think.

stuck.

"Dress up." You play dress up when you're little, and consciously do it when you're older. It's a game as you dig through the bins of old clothing that have accumulated in your grandmother's spare room, but a tedious effort as you become more aware, more perceptive of those standards.

Those criteria.

Those stares.

Those thoughts.

Those judgments.

Those eyes.

What image shall I portray today?Which vibe do I need to get ahead?How much of myself can I show without becoming too vulnerable a subject?Should I play it safe, or make a statement?

STOP.

But it never really does. We each play dress-up for different reasons. Some to flaunt, others to hide. Some to attract, others to repel. Some to flatter, others to mute.

And each time we think we're finally free -unique-confident-original-secure, we're back. Because each time we think about it, it has us. "It." That thing we become aware of at an increasingly early age. The acute awareness that what we do impacts others. And not only what we do, but how we do it. Because how we do it shows why we're doing it and why we're doing it is what people want to know. What they watch for. What they draw conclusions from. And this matters to us. It's a game we've all become pieces of: some are from Candyland and their biggest concern is losing a turn. Others are from Chutes and Ladders, and they're terrified of falling. A few are from Monopoly, as they plot how large of leaps they are able to make. Then there are those of us who feel more like dice: you get rolled around, and even you don't know what number you'll be. Perhaps you're a 6 today, but then again that would be quite optimistic, and no body likes a blindingly bright personality. So you decide on a solid 4: content yet aware. Then the idea of being a 5 creeps in. You'd like to be a 5, make that improvement, explore a bit. You explore your options, make a decision and take the first step. WALL. You've been blocked by a 1. What would have been a 5 is now half of snake-eyes, and you can feel the doubt creeping in. It fills you, reminding you that becoming a 5 is reserved only for those who know how to play dress-up correctly. Those who understand the rules. Those who have "it." You do not. Your words are wrong. Your look is wrong. Your approach is wrong. YOU ARE WRONG. Dress-up is for those who know how to mask, who know how to morph, who know how to bend to others. You, however, are not flexible. You are the wall, sturdy and secure, but not dressed accordingly.

O.C.D.

It's the little details that make each day unique and interesting. Those minuscule differences that make a day drag or speed by; cause you to be FRUSTRATED or fulfilled; bring a wrinkle to your forehead or dimples to your cheeks. When you look around and take the time to really see people, you'll notice their quirks: the way they arrange the food on their plate before taking a bite, how they fidget when they are about to reveal a personal secret, the unconcious manner in which they tap their foot even if there is no audible music providing a beat.
And it is each individual's unique "somethings" that attract certain people to one another.
Not that you realize it at the time, because most of the traits are barely noticeable unless sought out, but it is that extra "something" about a person which causes you to feel a connection with them that you don't necessarily have with, say, the person sitting adjacent to them.
Trying to pinpoint why this attraction happens would more than likely be an obnoxious task, ending with the overanalyzing of details that don't actually matter. However, it is interesting how certain people can appear to be so similar in multiple ways - looks, goals, families, past experiences, likes and dislikes - yet only one has that "something."
The intense gut-reaction that draws you to a person doesn't happen often, and when it does, you should act on it. Not in the cliché "I feel like I know you from somewhere" scenario, but more along the lines of "I think we'd get along well, let's find out."
Because the reality is that each of us has quirks, some more PROMINENT than others, and whenwe find someone who can put up with and appreciate those rarities, why hesitate?
Not everyone will find the way you twist your ring or bite your lip endearing, and chances are there are some things you do that no one will ever notice. But if, and when, someone comes along who is willing to explore what makes you you, let them.
After all, who wouldn't like a few extra details in their day to liven things up?