May 04, 2008
Finding the Center of a Dream
I went to the LA Times Book Fair last weekend and heard Maxine Hong Kingston speak. Among other things, she spoke about the need to listen to your dreams. To all of your dreams: from day dreams to fantasies to night-time slumber. Though I have very strong ideas, I tend to be an extremely suggestible individual. So I promptly went home and dreamed about someone who hasn't been in my life for three years.
I woke up wondering what it meant. Thinking about him no longer creates instant longing. Having him invade my sleeping space did make me curious about what he's up to, but not in a "must track him down and convince him to get back together with me" kind of way. I thought about it further and decided that his presence was the only way for my subconscious to remind me that I need to focus on my love life.
Perhaps I should back up and explain my tumultuous few weeks - I was contacted by two separate agencies in the last month and set up interviews for positions. I wasn't actually looking for a job, in fact I thought I was too busy with WILPF to even consider a switch. But since these opportunities came knocking, I couldn't close the door without seeing what was on the other side. During my interview with the second opening, I was offered the job. Flat out. And I said yes. And for the next week, I couldn't sleep. I was petrified that I made the wrong decision. It's a title bump and pay raise, yet I still felt like I was abandoning my employer and, somewhat more importantly, my clients. I knew that regardless of my title, my clients depended on my strategic thinking and ability to get projects created on time and within their preferences. Eventually, reality sank in, the offer was official, and I had to give notice.
The ease with which my boss accepted my resignation was the exact opposite of the anxiety that preceeded it. I'm half-way through my two weeks notice, and I've finally realized that I don't have to take everything so personally. My output has not diminished in quality simply because I don't consider every little decision as a reflection on my core being. In fact, realizing that sometimes junk mail is just junk mail allows me to leave at the end of the day without worrying about all the things I left until Monday to do. I grant you that giving notice was the impetus for the attitude change, but I truly believe that a more balanced approach is what everyone needs to create mental balance between work and personal space.
So back to that dream - see, I recently leased a new car and this new job allows me to feel more comfortable making the payments. I'm even thinking about buying a condo or a bungalow. ME! The woman who insisted she wouldn't buy property without a partner! Finally realizing that the combo of a tax break and an asset might be a reason to give up cramped living quarters.
The final support mechanism missing from my life is a companion. I'm healthy and happy and though I still lack a recognizable amount of free time, I am officially making myself open to finding the center of this dream.
I found paradise and it's the City of Angels. Nothing is perfect in my paradise, but there is path to the solution to every question. Though I've been bruised along the way, and some people dear to me did not live to see this day, it has finally come. Years of seeking have brought me to myself and I am ready to share this amazing existence with someone else. That is the center I seek for this dream I never intend to wake up from.
Posted by cj at 12:41 AM | Comments (0)
April 06, 2008
adventures in feminity
About a month ago, I decided to get acrylics in anticipation of my 30th birthday celebration in Vegas. For someone who has a difficult time maintaining an orderly abode, I have a peculiar obsession with finding a suitable manicurist for the plastic on my fingers. First I went to a crappy salon in Long Beach that put on the acrylics in a slap dash manner, leaving me to wonder how much crud could possibly grow between my nail bed and the plastic. Then, encouraged by a friend, I spent far too much money to have them filled at the spa in the Planet Hollywood hotel. That was the best manicure so far in this round of acrylic adventures, but since I live in LA and can't afford to spend half my salary on this endeavor, I had my second fill at the salon in the mall that my mother frequents. Alas, I did not follow her advice entirely; instead of waiting for her manicurist, I took the first available who decided that Watching Soap Operas Was Just As Important as Doing My Nails. So, now they are uneven and without curves. Alas, I am afraid I must return to an overpriced salon to get the type of manicure that will appease my exacting eye.
Which makes me wonder. Really? Is this what my life has turned into? Distracting myself from the e-newsletter I should be editing by spending time getting my (new) car washed and my nails painted? I suppose a 5 year illegal occupation on top of decades of noncompliance with international norms can cause many to despair of ever creating real change in this country. Me, I've learned to temper my activism with some good ol' fashioned materialism. The combination allows me to sleep well at night, albeit alone.
Posted by cj at 11:10 PM | Comments (0)