reinvention

I never thought I would need to reinvent myself. I shouldn't be surprised. People have to do it all the time, I have just never given it much thought until now.

As a young woman, I had a goal; I wanted to be a part of the music business. It was a dream come true to find that I could actually go to college and major in something like that. I graduated from Belmont and had several jobs in the music industry. Goal achieved; I was happy.

I took a brief hiatus and worked at a church office, while beginning to take classes again to explore a new career.

Enter a young man, a ring, and the goals changed. I was still happy. Happy to be by his side, happy to support his goals while achieving my own goals of being wife and mother.

I've spent nearly 20 years being the harried, homeschool mom and that journey is winding down, too. I feel restless. It's time for me to do something else but I have no idea what that should be.

I have been passionate about every goal that I have had. That is the part that is missing. Passion. I have no direction, no clue about what I want to do.

Am I too old to start over? People would say, "No, of course not," but really, am I?

a word to the wise

I am a good friend to have. Really, I am.

I will work hard for my friends, family and the groups that I join.

I don't always have to be appreciated for every little thing I do, but there comes a point when my help is so obviously either not good enough, or not wanted.

It is at that point that I withdraw my participation. I am older. I am tired. I do not have the physical or emotional energy required to fight to be included, so I will disappear. I have never intentionally caused harm to anyone, even those that have hurt me; I simply go away. Those left without me, may not ever know what they missed by not having me around, but miss out they will.

I am creative, resourceful, trustworthy, loyal, and a hard worker. I am a multi-tasking, planning, brilliant machine. If you don't need a friend like that, I will move on.

purse confessions

I got a new purse.

Not necessarily earth shattering news, I know, but it gave me reason to be introspective as I sort and transfer my belongings from the old purse to the new one.

A friend recently blogged about a woman's connection to her bag, so I won't do that here. I'm more fascinated by what my contents may reveal about me. I've been on that theme lately. I've arranged the contents into groups.

So let's see;
as iTunes would say, there are the basics;
wallet, keys, phone, hand lotion,

the next step;
full set of makeup: face, eyes, tweezers, mirror, 4 lip products,
tissues, about 15 pens, pencils, sharpies, notepad,

the deeper cuts;
first aid kit, eye drops, ibuprofen, tums, beano,

and miscellanea;
a stack of business cards promoting about 4 different theatre productions,
a paintbrush? 2 flashlights, a pink pocketknife, a tiny can of Lysol spray,
3 kinds of hand sanitizer, 4 kinds of breath mints and mini toothbrush,
4 pairs of sunglasses, 2 hand-me-down ipods, and a kindle fire.

You'd think there would be various and sundry receipts also, but no, I actually cull them out pretty regularly.

So, what does this list say?
Gone are the days of traveling light. This purse is heavy. I try to be prepared; overly prepared.
There was no hairbrush, so I either don't care what my hair looks like or I have given up. I may not care about my hair, but you won't catch me without mascara and eyeliner. I will admit my addiction to lip balms. I am never without them. It appears that I am twice as afraid of the sunlight as I am of the dark. I'm petrified of having bad breath. Ditto for germs. I am quite attached to my electronics. The medical section gives away my age.

Another confession; I carry another bag that stays in the car with more extras. Things that I have "just in case." That's the autism mom part. I have ear plugs and Mark's anti-nausea wrist bands and car chargers,  a garmin, wipes of various kinds, duplicates of the things listed above. I'm just thankful that I don't have to carry all that on my person at all times anymore, just close at hand. I need to add some duct tape to this bag. Everyone knows that you can survive a zombie apocalypse with gummy worms and duct tape.

You can analyze and come up with your own summation, but mine is this - the world (or whatever) has been unkind to me and somehow by being prepared I think I can one-up or outsmart it; protect myself and those around me. It's an illusion, I know. Trying to outsmart the universe is exhausting when all you have is a purse.

surprise

I've always thought it to be interesting when someone is surprised that I am good at something.

It's as if they look at me, size me up, and decide that because of my appearance, I must not be good for much.

I really hate that physical appearance matters so much in this world.

I hate even more that I can't quit caring about it.