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Category Archives: change

This happens. This is something that happens.

I am watching Magnolia. It is my favorite movie. This probably says a lot about me; mostly about the fact that I can relate, all-too-well, to broken people, to people with flaws that run deep and don’t ever let them go, not completely.

I’m watching Magnolia today because Philip Seymour Hoffman died, and I wanted to see him in one of my favorite roles of his, in my favorite movie. I wanted to just have a minute to say my goodbye to someone whose work I respect a great deal, and whose death I’m taking maybe a little too hard because that’s a thing I do. I am talking to someone I love about how much this movie means to both of us, how much it affected us back in the days when we weren’t yet part of each other’s lives, and I am crying over this movie, and I am crying over this particular magic, this thing that brings people together at just the right time, in just the right place.

Magnolia has the recurring theme of coincidence, and connection, and how we’re all intertwined; how the smallest action can turn into the one thing that your entire life hinges on. I like this. This is the magic I hold onto in life. This is what I hang around for; those little moments where you can almost see the greater plan peeking through the velvet curtains at the edge of things.

The movie starts with some stories of coincidence, each one harder to believe than the last: a man killed in Greenberry Hill in London by men named Joseph Green, Stanley Berry and Daniel Hill; a scuba diver killed by a firefighting airplane flown by a man he’d coincidentally run into a few days prior; and a teenager attempting suicide by jumping off the roof of his building, only to have his mother accidentally shoot him as he falls past her window – and land in a net put up to save window-washers, so he wouldn’t have died, after all, had he not been shot.

After each of these stories, the narrator tells us “and I would like to think this was only a matter of chance.” Until the last story.

And it is in the humble opinion of this narrator that this is not just “something that happened.” This cannot be “one of those things”… This, please, cannot be that. And for what I would like to say, I can’t. This was not just a matter of chance. Oh, these strange things happen all the time.

I’m going to tell you a story.

Once upon a time, I lived across the country. That iteration of Amy was not one I am proud of. I suppose you need to learn from your past, from your mistakes, to form the person you are today; if that’s the case, the mistakes I made, and troubles I dealt with, while living in the western part of the country, built a big old foundation upon which to position this life, the life I am proud of.

I worked at a theater there, for a while. I was one of the broken people, while there. I drifted. I was lost. I was doing what I could to survive. I was in and out of disastrous relationships and crushes on the least-likely candidates. I cried a lot. I was one of those thousand-yard-stare people you kind of see on the periphery.

I loved my time at the theater, though. It was brief – probably 8 months, all-told – but it seems longer, in my mind. I found family there. For someone as lost and alone as I was, this was huge. I had people, and I had a place to go, and I felt like I belonged. I was still broken, and I was still lost, but I had a tiny corner where things could be alright. (Theater’s saved me many times, and I have no doubt it will again – this is a good example of one of those times.)

But I screwed it up, as I did many things back then. Things got hard, and I got nervous, and I eventually shut myself off from everyone I loved there. I left and didn’t go back. I had reasons, which were varied (and kind of ridiculous, and even as screwed-up as I was, I knew they were ridiculous) but when the going gets tough, a lot of times, I just put up walls and make ’em thick. No one gets in. I don’t go out. And I can pretend I made that choice! I don’t need anyone! But really what made the choice is the fact that I’m depressed and I’m freaking out and it’s easier to not have anyone in your life when that happens. People are just a complication, right?

I think I ended up saying goodbye to maybe two of the theater people when I left the state. I didn’t even think that might be hurtful. I just wanted out, and I wanted to get back to where I thought I could rebuild, and things might start to be ok.

And things were ok. More than ok, actually. I got my fresh start, both due to the change of scenery and a change in me. I didn’t want to be that person anymore. I wanted to be someone else – someone who didn’t hide, someone who had friends, someone who had more blue-sky days than black-cloud days. It’s amazing how far a change in attitude can take you. It wasn’t overnight – the person I was hung around longer than I care to admit – but eventually, I shed most of her off, I kept what worked, and I became the person I am now: flawed, sure, but happy. And happy begets happy. Happy draws IN happy. It’s something I never knew, and something I was so joyful to discover.

I compartmentalized who I used to be; I didn’t shut it off, because you can’t deny things that happened, but I didn’t let it color me, either. I’m friends with a few people from those days in the now; BFF is one of them, and Mer another. They’re my best takeaways from that time, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything. I’m peripherally friends with a few others on Facebook, but you know how Facebook is. You like a status here and there, but it’s what you put into it, and we’ve grown too far apart to mend those fences. I don’t know that we really care enough to, honestly.

Remember the dating site? Yeah, that’s going about as well as you might imagine, but that’s not the point of this story.

The dating site sends you a list of people it thinks are good matches for you. (Strangely, most of these people are what I would consider exactly the opposite of a “good match,” but that’s neither here nor there.) The other day, I was idly paging through them (an audio track of me doing this would be “no,” “ugh, OMG, no,” “where are your CLOTHES?”, and “Why does this site think I want to date a 62-old-man?”) and I saw a photo of someone that looked very familiar.

Now, I’d assumed at some point I’d run into someone I knew. It was kind of inevitable. It’s a big area, but not THAT big. I’m not going to DATE anyone I kn0w – if I wanted to date people I knew, would I be on the dating site to begin with? – but it wasn’t someone I knew from HERE.

It was someone I knew from the theater from all those years ago. J., who’d run the theater; who’d been the one who took me in to begin with, who gave me the family I was too closed off to accept as fully as I should have. I hadn’t seen J. in twelve years. We weren’t Facebook friends. We’d dropped off each other’s radar. Not out of spite or any sort of hard feelings; I liked J. I just lost touch with J., and then compartmentalizing that part of my life hadn’t led me to look up people from that time. Honestly? I didn’t know if they’d remember me. I’d been a bit of a ghost. At first, didn’t even believe it WAS J. – I did a Google seach first, to see if he really was in the area.

Because what are the odds, right? What are the odds that someone you were close to twelve years ago, all the way across the country, would show up in your list of people on a dating site you just joined?

But it was him. He was here, somehow. And after sending him what was probably the goofiest message ever (but, in my defense, he replied with an equally “ZOMG!” email) we met up for dinner the other night.

Dinner became over three hours of talking and catching up and laughing and utter amazement over the fact that it had been twelve years and here we were, and we both looked pretty much the same (few more gray hairs, maybe, but it wasn’t like we were unrecognizable to one another) and how was he here? And what had happened in the past twelve years? And we caught up over food and the time melted away and I remembered some of the good things from all that time ago; that everything wasn’t terrible, not all the time, and the good things I brought forward with me were the things that made my friendship with J. still work.

(And before you all get excited: no, this is not a love connection. I care about J. a great deal, but it’s never been THAT kind of relationship, and never will be. Solid friendship with nothing more behind it. Sorry to burst your bubble, all of you rooting for me to find love on the interwebz.)

I totally told J. "IT WOULD BE LIKE KISSING MY BROTHER" then I realized I probably had to say that was from a movie or it was just a really rude, or slightly incesty, thing to say.

I totally told J. “IT WOULD BE LIKE KISSING MY BROTHER” then I realized I probably had to say that was from a movie or it was just a really rude, or slightly incesty, thing to say.

J. is here working at one of the local colleges, rebooting their theater program. (Can’t think of anyone better to do it; he’s got this energy that just beams from him.) Things have been going well for him; he’s also had a good twelve years. He also realized he needed a fresh start and took his life in a different direction. And I have to admit, it was nice to tell him what I’d been up to; I didn’t have much to be proud of then, but now I can say things like “writing for the paper” and “traveling to Europe in the spring” and “published a book” and MEAN all of them.

And J. and I made plans to get together again, and soon; if the world hands you a coincidence like this, you don’t waste it. You grab that puppy with both damn hands. I can’t wait to introduce him to the theater scene; the first time we met, he took me in, and made the introductions, and I was just given the chance to return the favor.

And there is the account of the hanging of three men, and a scuba diver, and a suicide. There are stories of coincidence and chance, of intersections and strange things told, and which is which and who only knows? And we generally say, “Well, if that was in a movie, I wouldn’t believe it.” Someone’s so-and-so met someone else’s so-and-so and so on. And it is in the humble opinion of this narrator that strange things happen all the time. And so it goes, and so it goes. And the book says, “We may be through with the past, but the past ain’t through with us.”

If the past ain’t through with me, I’m cool with that. I take the magic of the world where it’s given. If the world wants to bring back an old friend when I’m finally at the point in my life when I can appreciate him? I’ll take that magic. With thanks. And tears. And wonder.

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True life is lived when tiny changes occur.

It’s Sunday in my world. Monday in yours. Hi to your Monday, I hope you are all rested-up after your weekends of relaxation and luxury. I had a very stressful Saturday (work was cuckoo-bananas, as usual, even though I did get to work with my most lovely R., and that’s always a treat, HI, R.!) and now I’m having a very relaxed Sunday. I’m writing and later I’m going to put a ton of music on my phone so I can listen to music in the car with the help of the amazing sj, and THEN I’m going to set up my Roku box so I can get my Netflix started. THEN I WILL REST. I know. My restful days aren’t the most restful. But it’s all fun stuff, and I don’t have to leave the house, at least.

So we have big news over here today. Big ol’ news. Not even exaggeratey.

So time’s at a premium lately, as I’ve mentioned like a million times. See, I used to blog at work, because I didn’t have a lot to do at work. (Well, except for during tax season. NO MORE TAX SEASON FOR ME! I drive past my last job daily on my way home now, and I said the other day on the way home “HA HA SUCKERS NO MORE TAX SEASON FOR ME!!!” as I drove past. Yes, I talk to myself in the car, why do you ask? And are you at all surprised?)

Now I have a job with not only a lot to do, but I don’t want to risk losing it. So I don’t blog at work. (And I don’t have time to anyway. I just got trained up to my actual position, and it is BUSY. And also kind of awesome and a lot of responsibility. And there’s enough work backed up from before I was hired to keep me busy for a good long time. It’s like job security. Cabinets and cabinets of job security. It’s kind of awesome.)

Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. The thing is – my life’s gotten a little crazy and something’s got to give. I need time to breathe. And read. And play with The Nephew, hopefully, since he’s here now. And there’s some theater stuff coming up.

So the decision is…how do I get that time? And sadly, the answer is I have to do something about the blog.

The options are to either stop blogging, write shorter posts, or cut back on the amount I post.

I don’t want to stop blogging. I love it. Irrationally. I’ve met some of the best people; I’ve built this amazing community. I’m not wanting to stop that. I’d miss it too much.

I’ve tried to write shorter posts. I’m very bad at it. I attempt to write shorter posts and I start rambling and three hours have passed. I COULD try HARDER at it, but I’m a talker. And a writer. And I love all the words.

So that leaves cutting back on how OFTEN I post.

Which makes me sad, because I love posting every day. It gives me a sense of accomplishment and pride, and also I’m very hard on myself (I’m my own worst enemy, you see) so I am going to feel like a failure. But I think that’s the way it has to be, even though it’s going to be hard on me. I find it humorous that I beat myself up more than anyone else does. And I also seem to think in order to win, I have to do everything BIGGER AND BETTER. I need to stop that.

However, it will give me more time to live my life and do things and spend time with The Nephew and read books on the new Kindle and also in paper and play with the phone and watch movies and go to the theater and all the billion other things that I do in the world.

Much discussion has gone on with two of my nearest and dearest about this. Two of my people who know me (and my blogging) better than most everyone. And they both agree, me and short posts probably won’t happen. And I’m getting too stressed. And it’s not going to kill anyone if I cut back. They love me. (And it’s mutual.) They’re there for me. And I trust them. With everything. I listen to them when they talk. Because they’re my people. I didn’t take any of this lightly. (Shit, I don’t take anything lightly. Not anything in the world. It’s both a curse and a blessing.)

So. Starting soon (possibly even this week, possibly even TOMORROW, who knows) the every-day-posting you’ve gotten used to is stopping. I’m not going to stop writing…just not as often. Maybe 3-5 times a week. Maybe more, if I have more to say that week and more time.

If this is upsetting…well, I’m sorry. I need to go out and live some life while I’m busy making other plans, you know?

So don’t freak out if you’re all “WHERE IS AMY’S POST TODAY?” because I am doing something else. What am I doing? Who knows. Might be sitting on the couch doing nothing; might be watching a play; might be hanging with The Nephew playing with Playdoh, who knows. I’ll check in, I’ll let you know. I’ll still be here. And – AND – I’ll be less stressed when I am. A less-stressed Amy is a better Amy.

Also, we’re in the middle of a big blog design over here. Wait til you SEE. It is going to be SO SO BEAUTIFUL. (Well, it already is, it’s just not here yet. Will be soon.)

Lots going on. All the things. I’m going to go do some things now that are NOT internetty. I know, it’s shocking. Love you all to pieces. Big week coming up, theater and doctor’s appointments and salon appointments and ALL THE THINGS. Hope you’re all having the best week and thanks for being here, you know? What would I do without you all? No idea. None at all.

(Title is a Tolstoy quote. Credit where credit is due, always and forever.)


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