Art isn’t easy. Every minor detail is a major decision. Have to keep things in scale. Have to hold to your vision.

100 hours with Eiko + Koma.

The last two weeks this is what I was doing.  Coordinating their show Fragile which combined E+K and the Kronos Quartet in an installation style performance art exhibit.

It was messy and stressful and dirty and salty and naked and dark and exhausting and beautiful.  The assignment scared me, but didn’t scar me.

I got to help make art.


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No one to walk with, but I’m happy on the shelf

I thought briefly about apologizing for yesterday’s post.  I’ve decided I’m not going to.  It was how I felt at the moment that I needed to write it.  No, I wasn’t looking for sympathy, and no, I don’t always feel like that.  Significantly less these days then in recent years.  But, I needed to document it for myself.  And honestly, I didn’t put in anything that wasn’t true.  Yes, I have been crying my self to sleep, a lot.  Yes, I am often afraid of the empty space of being alone.  Sometimes, though, I revel in it.  Sometimes, I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

I think about people who have less then me, and I think about myself when I had less.  The truth is that there is always happiness to be found.  But sometimes its not enough to just make a conscious effort to find it.  Sometimes it takes a little bit more, and seems infinitely impossible.  And, I often don’t give myself enough credit.  For anything. 

So, I’m going to do my best to realize that things are better then I often give them credit for. 

And I’m going to try to sleep more.  No promises on that one though!

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When everyone’s forgotten and you’re left on your own. You’re gonna cry, cry, cry.

One day soon, I hope I won’t have to cry myself to sleep.

I’m so sad all the time and I’m constantly fighting it and I just don’t know what to do.  Paul has been very helpful, just listening and being available via the phone, but even today I got a sense that he’s tired of it.  Hell, I’m tired of it. 

I’m tired of feeling uncomfortable.  I’m tired of wondering about whether my new friends are genuine (most of them are).  I’m tired of feeling homesick for a place I had to get out of.  I’m tired of feeling lonely.  I’m tired of being afraid I’m not good enough for my job. 

And on top of it all.  I’m tired.  I just want to sleep.  And I’m afraid to give myself the time to do it, because I’m afraid I won’t want to get out of my bed.  For days maybe.  That scares the hell out of me.

It will pass. (I hope.)  Till, then… I will keep piling on the work to keep me distracted.

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And if the truth is told, they will never come again.

It’s no secret that I tend to write more here when I’ve gotten involved with someone. These are the things, the feelings I want to remember.  So I write more.  I think it might be premature to really start talking about it, but let’s just say, things are good.  I’ve met someone I really like.  I don’t know him very well yet, to be fair, but so far so good. 

Actually, the real reason I wanted to write today has to do with something that happened yesterday.  I was supposed to go to a band concert that some friends from Shenandoah were playing in.  One of whom was Justin. 

I’ve been round and round about Justin for so long I can’t even keep it straight.  But I’ve found recently that I’ve lost my rose colored glasses when it comes to him.  As long as I’ve known him he’s been, what I have lovingly referred to as, a “Story-teller”.  He tells little white lies that make for better stories, and generally I just assumed that everyone could tell the difference between what he was saying and the truth.  I always felt like I could.  Some of my friends in college just didn’t believe anything he said ever, and couldn’t understand why I adored him so.

Fast forward to this past year and a half.  I recently found out that he’s been telling me a lie the entire time we’ve been back in touch.  He didn’t mean it maliciously, he probably meant it not to hurt my feelings.  And about six months ago, the confirmation of this lie would’ve been devastating.  But it’s out there.  He forgets that we share friends, and that as his friends, we all sort of look out for one another.  So one of his friends told me the truth.  For which I was grateful.  The truth will set you free and all that. 

Recently, Justin told me another “story” about moving and one of our friends moving in with him.  I mentioned it to said friend, and he didn’t know what I was talking about.  What a stupid thing to lie about.  I don’t care if he moves, or if friends move in with him, or whatever.  And this is just one example of several dumb lies he’s told for no reason. That I can see.

So yesterday morning, as I was running, I realized that I hadn’t seen Justin since March, and that I wasn’t necessarily looking forward to seeing him.  That was a shocking revelation. I spent all summer so looking forward to getting to see him again.  So for me to not be excited, not even really want to see him, was a bit eye opening. 

I’ve been doing a lot of house cleaning.  I never asked him to lie to me, to sheild my feelings.  Honesty would have gotten him way farther with me.  And looking back without those rose colored glasses, I realize this is just how he is and has been for as long as I’ve known him.  The smart women have stayed away from him for their own self-preservation and so he continually ends up with women who are so blind that they believe everything he tells them.  That was never me.  And he must have kown it, as he’s kept me at arm’s length forever.  So, I’m thinking that maybe it’s finally time to let him go. 

Everything in my life has changed.  I’m strong enough to make this change too, and not spend the next fifteen years wondering if it was the right choice.  If he had actually wanted me, he would’ve made that work.  But, as my friends all seem to know, better than I, Justin only wants what Justin wants.

What a complicated relationship that was.  I’m glad to be able to categorize much more succinctly now. 

Also, what I ended up doing last night was way better.

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And I know you see the me I lost in all of my lies

Maybe we should’ve gotten married when we were kids.  I still don’t know anyone else as awesome.  However, we are so much better for each other now, as friends, than before.  And turns out, we needed each other more as adults who’ve faced seperate paths, than as a couple who struggled together (and probably would’ve failed).

Just proof that we don’t usually understand what’s best for us, when we think we know what we want or need.  And sometimes, you have no idea why you make a decision other than a gut feeling.  Heartache is purposeful.

I am so incredibly lucky to have you for a friend.

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Bridge the distance, drain the ocean, pave a highway on the sandy floor, part the waters with devotion.

I didn’t even realize how hard life was in New York.  I didn’t have a clue.

In the opening scene of P.S. I Love You (one of my favorite chick flicks), Hilary Swank’s character, Holly, says to her husband Gerry (Gerard Butler), that she’s tired of waiting for their lives to get started.  I so identified with that sentiment.  Waiting.  Waiting for the gig that’s going to change everything.  Waiting for Mr. Right to step up and make me forget about Mr. Right Now.  Waiting to lose those last ten pounds.  Waiting for everyone else to make my life better.  Just waiting. 

With no end in sight.

I know I have friends who also feel that shiftless empty void.  And I have zero advice for them.

As some of you know, I made it to the end of my rope this year.  I saw nothing ahead.  And not in that “the future is wide open and the possibilities are endless” stuff they feed you at graduation ceremonies. But rather, “there are storm clouds overhead and I see nowhere for shelter, so just let the lighting strike me down and be done with it” nothingness.  I am so lucky that I was in Maine with the salt water air when that feeling struck, because the salt water might have saved my life. 

I have no recipe for happiness.  All I can say is hang in there. Be as true to yourself as you can be.  And keep moving forward.  Happiness will find you.

My life has started.  I’m open and happy.  I didn’t know this could be.


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Fly me away to Baltimore.

Well, well,well, will wonders never cease?

Ok. So, here I am in Baltimore. Who knew just a few months ago that I’d leave New York and move back to the only city that I could possibly love more.  Me! The adamant New Yorker. 

See , here’s the thing.  In New York, I was working with many different performing artists and companies, helping them to get their shows off the gr0und.  Often I was doing this for no money, or a small stipend.  If I was going to walk away wth more than $300 for the entire project that was a huge deal!  In Baltimore, (ok, College Park) I do the same work (actually less – don’t tell anyone that) and get a full salary, benefits, and the opportunity to work with amazing artists (I’ve already got Patti LuPone and Bill T. Jones on my work schedule.)

In New York, I lived in amazing Astoria, easily one of the best neighborhoods in the entire city. And I lived in a house, with outdoor patio, lots of privacy, and the cutest little dog ever.  Oh, and three other people.  At 32, I couldn’t see any way to live in my own place, not only in the near future, but ever.  It’s just so expensive, and I loved my “work” too much to give it up for something more lucrative.  In Baltimore, I have my own apartment.  And it’s huge.  In an awesome downtown part of town.   I live within walking distance of the downtown stuff, Inner Harbor, Aquarium, all that. The city sailing club is just up the street.  Living alone is a dream come true, that I never ever thought would happen for me. (I do miss my dog and my sister, though.)

While I was in Maine, it became very clear to me that I needed to make some changes.  My heart was aching, my psyche was in terrible condition, I felt helpless and lonely.  So I made a list of the things I wanted in my life.  I went whole hog.  What did I want in a job, what did I want in my life recreationally, what sort of location did I want to live in, etc. I sat at the kitchen table at Dunlap (oh, Dunlap, my love…) one morning, stared at the Stonington harbor and started looking for a job. 

The very first job I found was for an event coordinator at the University of Maryland’s performing arts center.  It fit all of my criteria, so I began working on an application.   It ended up being the only job I applied for.  A little over a month later, I got the offer.  A week after that, I got a raise.

The job was followed quickly by the first apartment we looked at, the first car we looked at.  Everything fell into place so neatly.  I was able to wrap up my last two shows in New York just in time for the move.  It was perfect.

I have missed my friends. Alot.  Making my mind understand that it’s not in NYC anymore will take some time.  I was feeling especialy lonely last week, and was able to meet up with someone I knew from home, who introduced me to a bunch of fantastic locals.  I also talked to Paul, my best friend in New York, who decided to come down for a few days last weekend.

And then, I found the catch. Nothing comes without a price, right?

Paul and I walked up to  Harbor Place for dinner.  Phillips has always been one of my favorite restaurants, so we decided to go there.  We sat down and waited (a while) for our waiter. When someone did finally come over, I wasn’t really paying attention, but I heard an overly familiar “Hey!” looked up and realized it was Aaron. 

Aaron, who destroyed me for years.  Aaron who hurt me in ways no human being should ever do to another.  Aaron who’s life was threatened by my roommate if he didn’t move as far away from me as possible, and never came back.  Aaron, who I believed was safely tucked far away in LA, trying to be an actor.  That’s who my server was.  At Phillips.  In Baltimore.  On. My. Street.

I stopped breathing.

I started shaking. 

Paul, who I remembered had never actually met Aaron, had no idea what was happening.  Aaron excused himself, and I turned to Paul and told him we had to leave.  It wasn’t until we got out of the restaurant that I was able to say “that was Aaron.”

Paul, was there for me, with me, when  the shit of my relationship with Aaron hit the fan.  He was there to start to clean-up the mess.  I was severely damaged for a long time.  Paul offered the first signs of hope that I would make it through with minimal scars.  I have friends (particularly guy friends) who don’t understand my relationship with Paul.  It stems from this.  Paul will always be extremely important to me, no matter who I’m dating, and this is why. 

I’m so so so lucky it was Paul with me when I discovered Aaron. 

He knew just what to do.  We walked away.  He led me, let me deal physically, figure out how to breathe. We went to another restaurant, he even did a shot of whiskey with me (he doesn’t drink colored liquor).  And then he was there for the next two days. 

Paul said something to me in the midst of all of this that sticks with me.  He said that I was the strongest person he knew. 

I am so much stronger and different then I was just four years ago.  The woman  am now wouldn’t have gone through what Aaron put me through.  She would have struck back and found a way to be selfish and proud.  She wouldn’t have lost three years of her life. 

So, today, I walked up to Harbor Place, just to see how it made me feel.  I felt nothing.  I didn’t feel anxious or afraid.  No tightness in the chest.  Nothing.

 I will be fine. I know now.  Maybe this is why he’s here. I needed to know that I don’t need to fear him anymore.   I’m free.  If I come across him in a social situation I may still punch him in his ugly face, but I don’t need to be afraid of him and his tiny soul.

Moving to Baltimore may have been the best thing I’ve ever done.


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