As Cardinal Woolsey
-- the one-time New York City band, not to be confused with Cardinal Wolsey
the ... well, the cardinal -- used to sing, "the fu-u-u-u-n never stops!"
Yeah, they were being sarcastic too. It's been a rough week here chez knitting out loud. It was hard technically/logistically, from working a full day to rehearsing a full night to working the next day, running to an audition, back to the job, to a meeting where I somewhat unexpectedly picked up some writing work to the scramble to find out what freelance pr/commercial/web type writers actually charge to the reading I'd rehearsed the night before back to an early start temping the next day to another commercial audition back to the temp job thence to a meeting with a manager which included -- what else? -- an audition. And that was just Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday. Beyond that, and perhaps even more so, it was hard -- really, really hard -- emotionally/psychologically/spiritually. I was given my first challenge in this new year of being a year older and, while I won't say I failed miserably, I didn't exactly breeze through with flying colours. That reading? It was peopled by painfully hip, young, gorgeous kids -- mostly girls -- with perfect skin, real agents, and resumes longer and fuller than mine. Apparently they spend their days doing "not much" in their DUMBO lofts then show up for things like this reading where they get to just be actors. Jealous? Me? You bet. And, worse than that, flung immediately back into the horrors of high school. They were all the popular kids who wanted nothing to do with me. At some point I had the vivid realization that, while I was in a room full of people I was supposed to understand, it was as if they were all speaking Swahili. Everyone was chattering away, except me. I was alone and silent. And I disappeared. Yes, I am supposed to be beyond all that but apparently I haven't really mastered those lessons yet. Needless to say, I skipped the after party.
But I also have enough sense and at least enough development and, thankfully, the most incredible therapist who's also part witch doctor, to take it on and realize I have an opportunity here to make a deep change. After all, numerologically speaking, this is supposed to be the year of my final "9," my final big challenge, with nothing but ciphers afterward meaning I am able to simply choose which, if any, challenges I want. So here it is. I lived in fear of this year for a while, thinking, based on the experiences of my previous "9" years, that some terrible external thing was bound to happen plunging me into understandable pain and misery and, if I didn't choose to deal with it differently this time, despair, but I no longer think that's it. I think this -- perhaps the biggest, most persistent and pervasive internal struggle of my life -- is that big challenge. And how grand it will be to have transformed this final, nagging, stifling thing that has kept me down for so long!
So in a way it is "party every day." This morning is to be a slow, easy healing one with NPR
, the wrap with sleeves
and coffee surrouned by my newest knitting books and, of course, Eris.
Besides all that, it's a girl's birthday party today! Since the lovely Jill was out of town last week I postponed any birthday celebration and decided it should be an all-girl girly thing this evening at the charming Tini
in Red Hook. Perfect! Wine and delectable snacks and soft white couches and budding narcissi.