Cooking In The Kitchen

So for the past week, I have been cooking in the kitchen.  It's not my kitchen, somebody else's and it's super nice.  Big marble chopping block, a wolf stove (damn those burners hit up fast, a far cry from my ancient electric stove), a super sleek stainless steel fridge that glides open and windows above the sink where I can overlook the beautiful garden as I do the dishes.  It's a slice of heaven and it's mine for a month.  I haven't left this haven except to go to the grocery store and buy more food.  I'm on a budget so no eating out for this girl that aims to be in a bikini by July 4th.  It's working.  With all of these home cooked yummy morsels and garden fresh leafy greens (I walk to the vegetable garden every morning barefoot and pick red leaf lettuce and fresh basil!) the hourglass is shaping up rather nicely.  The curves only work if you rock the waist and I'm about to spring her from frump central very soon.  It's been a while since my bellybutton ring has seen the light of day.

It's turning out to be quite a lovely summer.  I am taking it easy.  Not scurrying around like I always do.  I am trusting that everything will work itself out and I will be just fine.  I dwelled in the world of the timid for a while and it was like wandering around in the desert.  Everywhere I turned I hesitated.  It was as if I had heat stroke and I was weak.  Sometimes I would see things that weren't there.  Reaching,  I would want to drink from a fountain that wasn't real.  It was only when I dug deeper into my courage that my story got back on track.  Melancholy sang its song and I now settle into life as I know it.  Just the facts mam, he said and I was made right again. The world is my oyster, it always has been.   I just forgot for a bit.   After all of these years in Los Angeles, I feel as though I am starting over.  I've stayed the course and I am getting my swagger back one day at a time.  My friends have helped me.  Faith is so pretty and wise, she wears flowers in her hair and dances in the sunlight knowing that her next step is the right one.  Bold is by her side, he holds her hand and looks to her when he goes, certain of his path.

Armed with my senses once again, I will swim, read, write, pray and think.  Think about where I've been and where I want to go.

The Anatomy of Letting Go...

I was never one of those girls that had a plan when it came to a guy.  I never talked about when I would get married or how many kids I would have.    I was too busy falling for the guy with dreamy eyes that wrote poetry, could sing a tune and speak multiple languages.  My college boyfriend did just that and then his shininess started to fade when I learned that he recycled poems and sang songs for all the girls.  How dare he?  I no longer felt special and he came off of his pedestal real quick.  I also never thought I would marry him and yet I spent a big chunk of time with him.  It took me forever to let go.  I think the reason was I wanted him to be good.  Once I accepted that some people choose not to lead with their goodness, I was able to bounce.

When it did come time to finally commit to "the one", I found him incredibly charming.  Not a poet this time but a singer.  Opera.  He belted it.  In Italian, French, Spanish and German.  Not fair, he had a lot of ammunition.  I still fought the idea of settling down tooth and nail.  The women that I was hanging around with at the time thought I had struck gold.    They planned my future for me and wrapped it up in a big bow.  I listened to unhappy people and paid a high price.  I felt like I was playing pin the tail on the donkey.  That's not exactly the way to start a future with someone.  Having people push you in a direction that you are "supposed to go", cheering you along the way, aimlessly hitting a target only to remove the blinders and realize that all you have gotten is an ass.

Letting go of the ass was easy.  It was the letting go of my "future", the one I fought so hard against that was the tricky part.  It was very difficult untangling from the expectations and ideals that I had talked myself into.  Suddenly there was a plan that went south and I had to deal with it.  That's why I never wanted it in the first place.  Lo and behold I peeled myself from the life raft or rather the rotten piece of driftwood that my friends thought was so "great" and I began to grow.  Slowly but surely I remember what courage was.  I learned to never settle and I learned to stand on my own two feet.  Every once in a while I still stumble and it stings but I get up quicker each time.

I sometimes stand on the battlefield of other's lives.  On the sidelines away from the explosions.  Bomb's spontaneously going off and they never knew that the timer was set.  On standby, I wait until I am called to wade through the rubble of rights and wrongs.  I often have to bite my tongue and just listen.  Otherwise I will have flashbacks of hapless poet and want to attack some innocent bystander who has wandered onto enemy territory, over the line into my past.  And then I remember to let it go.

At the moment I am alone.  Letting go.  The sun is setting and the sky is pink.  My phone rings and cries are heard.  I feel a lot and my heart aches.  All I can do is pray.  For the dawning of a new day.  For the ability to walk in the direction that I am supposed to go and take the few that I love with me.

Say What? And Thank God

Oh, Los Angeles and adulthood makes for some very interesting scenarios.  People come in and out of your life on a whim and in a way I have been trained to expect anything.  They don't tell ya this stuff when you're a kid.  You just meet your neighborhood friends at the sandbox, make some mud pies (I was on the front page of the newspaper once for this) and call it a day.  And the same thing usually happens the next day.   There was never any agenda and then you grow up.

I remember making new friends with this woman and her husband.  They were my customers when I worked at the Formosa Cafe.  A week after I met them, I was at their wedding.  It was a trip and she was very sweet.  Syrupy sweet.  We used to laugh all of the time.  I should've known that something might be rotten in Denmark when she asked me if I was just hanging out with her because she was an actress.  I was taken aback and in the moment I was stumped for words.  Newsflash, I was an actress too I just wasn't making as much money as her.  She should of just said are you hanging out with me because I make more money than you.  Weird.  I wanted to grab my shovel and high tail it outta that sandbox right then and there but I lingered and it got worse.  Every time I would go over to her house she would have me run an errand.  I couldn't figure out why I was so exhausted when I hung out with her.  Then I had my light bulb moment and realized I was working for the friendship.  Sometimes straight up manual labor.  Guess I didn't think I was enough, so I just did and did and outdid myself.

If only I knew then what I know now.  Yada, yada, yada.  That friendship was built on sand.  No foundation. Wishy washy and conditional.  The straw that broke the camels back was when she stopped calling me.  Cut off.  No explanation.  Five years of "friendship" down the drain.  It was sketchy and relieving at the same time.  It was so hard to be her friend.  It was like having a second job.  So life has a way of working itself out and eventually I found some new friends.  The clincher was something that happened last week.  My friends neighbor goes to school with the conditional friend's son.  When we put two and two together my friend told the son that he knew me.  The son said that his parents stopped talking to me because I didn't help them out enough.  Can you believe it!?  I chuckled.  And then I felt good.  Good riddance.  I learned so much from that experience.  There are so many takers in this world.  It's so important to find those with kind hearts and tender smiles.

 Well, I'm back in the sandbox, making mud pies again.  No conditions.  I take my time and I don't have to stop off and get my friends their ingredients.  They come equipped with their own.

That Girl Again..

I am that girl again at Starbucks on her computer.  The Hibiscus tea is tasty.  There is a young couple sitting behind me and I just heard the girl say to the guy "do you think desire is a disease?"  My ears perked up and I started to listen.  He responded "no, but I think people are."  I'm fascinated. I wonder if they are on a match.com date.  As I listen closer, they are actors rehearsing a scene.  I am riveted.  The banter back and forth is rife with insecurity.  In between running their lines, they  exchange pleasantries.  "Are you married?"  he asked her.  "Yes, for 9 years."  She's 32.  She's singing the same song I do.  It's so hard to meet quality people out here.  Amen to that sister.  They are doing what most actors do when they get together to rehearse.  They are chatting.  About their motivation and how they feel in the scene.  All the different ways they can deliver their lines. Blah, blah, blah.  She's married to a director.  She stated that very loudly.  Her "husband the director."  In my experience,  dating a director is an interesting experience.  I didn't know that I was until about half way through the date when I was wolfing down my spaghetti and he was offering me a part.   I found him incredibly charming, nerdy and handsome behind his glasses.  He sort of snuck up on me.  I wasn't expecting to have a crush and I did.  After the fact I would discover his roguish reputation but with me he was a gentleman.  Maybe it's my freckles.  He knew better than to pull any shenanigans.  I still got the part.

The actors behind me sound fake.  I want to whip around and coach them.  Do nothing.  Live truthfully.  Why are they changing their speaking voice?  Ugh.  A dime a dozen.  The characters that stroll through this Starbucks are colorful.  I have strategically placed myself where I can see everything.  Everyone has a hustle. The actors just got up and I quickly shut my computer.  Oops.  I hope they didn't see my scathing criticism, now I feel bad.

Anyway, I took my little brother to get his haircut today.  He went to Pink's hairdresser.  The cut is fabulous.  Everywhere we went afterward people were staring.  He looks like a movie star and he is sweet as pie to boot.  I want to protect.  I tell him all the horror stories of Hollywood.  Sometimes I feel like I tell him too much but I want him prepared.  I think I have scarred him.  We went to the Grove and an agent came running up to him wanting to sign him on the spot.  This has happened his whole life.  Things just come to him.  He's golden.  He is 22 years old, tall, healthy, vibrant and smiles all the time.  We laughed our asses off today, had so much fun.  He told me he wants me by his side for the ride.  He knows they are coming for him.  I better fasten my seat belt.

Interpretive Dance

I am sitting in the corner of a gigantic room in Pasadena.  There is live music playing.  Everywhere you look there  are objects to prompt creativity.  Easels, a vintage typewriter, books, people are painting, some woman is waving a red shiny flag and there is a girl next to me doing an interpretive dance.  Literally just busted right out into modern dance.  I don't want to stare at her.  She's good.  Perfectly on the beat and flailing herself about the room, every move  is on point with the music.  There is a small part of me that thinks she's ridiculous and just wants everyone to look at her and then another part that says well good for her.  She is expressing herself.  Like in the biblical days.  She is currently doing peekay (not the correct spelling ha) turns in a big giant circle,  oops she just caught me looking at her.  Well she's getting what she wants and I'm writing about it.  Now, she just threw herself on the ground and slid across the floor, flipped her hair and looked toward the ceiling.  Damn, she's in shape.  Makes me want to get to a ballet class pronto.  How shallow of me?  Wanting to know her workout regimen and she probably wants me to decipher the message of her moves.  Well she's definitely rejoicing and being very dramatic about it.  Oh who am I kidding?   She is a beautiful dancer and I am probably just envious because of (a). the taut tushy and (b). she has the balls to work it in front of everyone in the room without a care in the world.

Earlier I went into a smaller room and had received prophetic ministry from a group of seven people.  I have never experienced this before.  It's kind of like going to a psychic but not.  My psychic days are over after I went to some lady with too much armpit hair that told me I had a generational curse on the women in my family and 250 dollars later I was cured.  Those were my doormat days.  Come right in and walk all over me.  Not anymore I say.    This experience was from a very spiritual perspective.  They pray for you and tell you what they see.  They told me that I was a teacher and I have the ability to affect many with my words.  Out of nowhere tears started streaming down my face.  They said my plan was great and I naturally set a good example for others.  So in hindsight I guess being kind to all the schmucks of my past was a good thing.  What they said really inspired me to keep going in the direction that I am.  Don't we always wish we woke up and smelled the coffee sooner.  Oh well my senses weren't as sharp back then, they are now. This new cast of characters in my life are lovely, filled with kind words and encouragement.

I just looked around for the dancing girl, she's gone, but I will always remember.

Celebrate the Day

Today I will celebrate the birthday of a friend that I swear fell from the sky.  He says he comes from the swamp in South Georgia and I will never know how the heck our paths ever crossed.  He is a genius mimic and can do all the voices of the Klumps.  Eddie Murphy's got nothing on him.  It's pretty fascinating to watch.  I was flabbergasted the first time I witnessed this.

He can predict when his phone will ring and who will be on the other end, my jaw drops and I wouldn't believe it if I didn't see it with my own eyes.  His comedy is genius, a gift from above.  He makes everyone laugh.  EVERYONE.  Any ounce of poise or glamour that I try to maintain goes right out the window when he makes me laugh.  It erupts from me and my whole body starts to rock and I have to cover my face because tears just race down my face.  Joy.  When he is in a room full of people they just gravitate toward him, wanting to be close.  Light  beams from him and his smile is made from the same mold as some of our biggest movie stars, it can stop traffic.

We both worked at the same pizza shop and the owner got his britches in a bunch because he said we were more popular than the pizza and he didn't want us getting more attention than the food.  I was so happy.  I never had anyone criticize me for being more popular than pizza.  It was fabulous.  The owner called us the most famous non-famous people he knew and all we ever did was be nice to the customers.  We left that job real quick.

Now I have saved the best for last.  He has the voice of an angel.  When he sings he makes all the girls cry and some guys too.  I am a mess most of the time.  He belts Adele, Patsy Cline, John Mayer and even Lady Gaga to name a few.  The moments are precious when he plays the piano and sings something new.  Breathtaking.

So I look up to the sky and thank God that I got so lucky.  He defines true friendship through and through.  He teaches, listens, encourages and supports.  Talk about hitting the jackpot.

Happy Birthday Rudy!  :)

The Routine of it All

Sometimes I wonder if I could ever move back East.  I am planning a summer trip and thinking about going to Massachusetts and New York for three weeks.  This would mark the longest I have ever been away from California, ten days has been my max so far.  When I spent five years in New York City, the most I was ever away from the city was 5 days.  I guess I just move to a place and hunker down, put my nose to the grindstone and I don't really look up.  That's getting kind of old nowadays, I want to see my family more, expand the frames of my life and really see the big picture.  In a perfect world I would have more of a routine, write by day and cook dinner every night.  I am rediscovering the joy I get from stability and even if I cook for one, its a start and slowly others will come to the table.   It makes the times with friends all that much sweeter.  

When I spent the summer in Italy, it was all about that, everyone came together for a big dinner at night, there was conversation and laughter.  It seemed right.  The Italians have it down, they seem to be the masters of interpersonal relationships.  Which I translate into they take their time, when they eat they don't rush and when they love they aren't afraid to show it.  I witnessed all of this when I stayed at a campground in Sardinia, it was chock full of young couples and everyone cooked fresh food over their camp fires, did their dishes together and on the way to each task they held hands.  Hand holding, where has it gone?  You don't see it much here in Los Angeles, well maybe at the beach otherwise everyone's scurrying around trying to make it happen.  

I'm thinking about writing some letters of forgiveness.  When I think about doing this I just want to hurl and then I imagine I'm sitting in a circle with my legs crossed singing Kumbaya.  I've been participating in this amazing healing program and we just did a stint on forgiveness.  The pieces of my puzzle are slowly coming together and I am understanding how the different parts of me operate.  I allowed certain people to be rather snarky  without being snarky back.  People often took more than they needed and I gave freely to the point where it made no point.  So for this I have to forgive and the other person is supposed to repent but I don't talk to any of those people anymore.  What I learned is though, the forgiveness thing can still work if you do your part because in the end its about releasing the crappy issue that happened in the first place.  

I guess I'll get back to browsing the internet for the best deal on an airline ticket.  I usually get sidetracked by facebook or dictionary.com, looking up new words I want to use.  I am on the constant quest to increase my vocabulary.  I need more words in my life, its my ammunition.  The right word can make all the difference, like I can't wait to go on holiday as opposed to vacation.  

My summer holiday, it has a nice ring to it.  

Hot and Cold

Oh the Grove on a Tuesday is super fabulous.  It is just something else, you can drive in and out and not be bothered.  There isn't any line at the movies or for food and you can race around there like a bat outta hell.  I discovered this place called the Banana Leaf, they have Malaysian food, yum, the best chicken noodles.  I took my friend's neighbor to see Super 8, I cried, it was so good.  I loved it.

Prior to that I was at my friend's place stomping around.  First I said I was hot because it was sweltering out, then I said it was cold because he had the air conditioner blasting, then at some point I told him he didn't care.  He looked at me sorta sideways.  It's that time, you know the moon cycle so the hormones start to race to the finish line.  I laughed at the madness of it all...Hot, cold and "you don't care."

I watched Katy Perry's new video "Last Friday Night", my little brother is in it.  He looks so cute, he plays a jock.  He is getting his start just like me.  Music videos.  I remember my first and only music video, it was New Kids On The Block, oh my, I'm dating myself but Jordan is still cute so what the heck.  I was going to school in Boston and my friend was dating Danny Wood.  We used to hang out at this club called Venus di Milo.  I got my fake I.D. taken from me there and I had the nerve to argue with the bouncer saying that yes the 30 year old blonde in the picture was indeed me.  I need to get THAT chutzpah back in my life.  Anyway, Danny asked my friend to be in the video, she said she would only be in it if I could be in it too.  They only wanted Latin Girls on set and after much cajoling she was able to convince them that I was cool and I should be in the video.  So lo and behold I am all over that video with big hair and white knee high socks.  We shot one of the club scenes at Venus and there was all this buzz about this cute short guy wearing a tank top and baseball hat.  He was Donnie's little brother and when he walked on the set all the girls froze and stared.  Oh, he made my heart beat, he was so sexy and so fine with his muscles and his swagger.  It was Marky Mark, yep Mark Wahlberg.   It was so much fun and I was known around Boston for a few months after the shoot as "the white girl in the video".

I ended the night listening to the piano.  It was beautiful and I thought about how much my life has changed in 3 years.  Life really is like a rollercoaster.  If someone told me that I would swim through an ocean of tears for an extended period of time only to find myself two years later laughing my ass off on an almost daily basis I would have called them a liar.  No way.  It's almost like a miracle and I never saw it coming.

The Wireless Fix Me Up

It's been days since I've written and its the first thing I think about when I wake up, that and my coffee.  I always contemplate schlepping my computer to Starbucks to use the free wifi and I just can't seem to get it together to do it.  Well I'm like a junkie and I got my fix, which is a wireless signal so now I can write.

Today feels like the first day of summer.  Busting out the skirts and the tanks, boy, I need a tan.  Have a lot of free time on my hands now since getting the ax.  I remember my first babysitting job, I was nine.  I've been working a long time.  Always had a job, all through school and college.  I am relishing the time off.  Rediscovering what I want to do.  It's pretty fabulous.  One thing I have realized is restaurant management is purgatory for artists.  It is a thankless position and I am so glad to be free of it.  I really could care less if you think your drink is too strong, not strong enough, blah, blah, blah.  Complaints aren't real to me unless their valid, like being hungry from no food on the table.  Anything else is just frivolous and frivolous people are boring.

In any event who am I to judge, the frivolous people are probably cranky cuz they realized that money can't get them everything they need.  It doesn't buy a good shoulder to cry on or a friends laughter.  It can't give you a restful sleep unless you use that money to buy Ambien and well that's another story.  I took an Ambien once, this supermodel gave it to me when we were on location for something.  I think I hallucinated and couldn't sleep for three days after that.  Talk about a nightmare.

I'll call this my semi-retirement phase, since I did the child labor thing back in the day..  I'm not gonna feel guilty about my time off.  Reality is, I get more done when I don't have to go to a paycheck job.  So I'm investing now.  Me stock.  I think it's a pretty good gamble.

The Sweetest Thing

My phone rang at 3:00, I picked it up, it was my lil brother.  He called me after his audition for a snow boarding print job.  He was so excited, "the casting director asked me if I could do a half pipe?"  I giggled, "what did you tell her"?  "I told her I could do it all."  I took a deep breath, he could do it all, he was so cool and he had it.  I told him to fasten his seatbelt because he is going to work all the time.  I can feel it, everyone can see it and it's his destiny.

We were meeting up to hang and look at new modeling shots.  "Meet me at the Honey Baked Ham", I said.  "Where?", he yelled over the blasting music in his car.  "I live behind the Honey Baked Ham store, I'll meet you in the parking lot.". I brushed my hair, threw on my Coldplay concert tee, my aviator shades and ran out the door.  It was a gorgeous, hot California day.  I was happy.

I thought about when I first moved to Hollywood and I don't know how I made it through the jungle virtually unscathed. Well I guess the big ol fat broken heart isn't unscathed but I'm almost out of that neck of the woods, so it's no longer starting to count.  I still have my hope and that is good.  I have seen so many people sell out, date the "right" person for a job, kiss ass and live off their parents money.  At the end of the day they were all so miserable and not one of those people that went that route "made it."  Most of them now drink too much, pine for a lover and look like they have a perpetual bitter taste in their mouth.  

I have waded through the water, like Katherine Hepburn in the "African Queen" and I will protect my brother, give him my help and support and no he will not shoot with Madonna's photographer.(he met someone at a party that wants to hook him up).  We will save that for later when he can call the shots. 

We sat and watched a little league game, stumbled upon it while we strolled through the park.  He showed me his portfolio, he's a looker.  We talked about life and our family.  I shared some of my heartache with him over the past few years, only a little bit though. I made jokes to soften the blow of my woes and in the end when there was a pause he put his arm around me and said, "well you have me now, you have your brother."  I think that is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.  Sincerely.   Don't we all want someone to be there for us without asking them.  It is really special when it is offered up freely and coming straight from the heart.  

So all of my prayers were not in vain.  I feel like I am starting from scratch and that is refreshing.  Diesel, Lexus, Fedex, all casting calls for this week.  I breathe and take in the joy.  I have gotten into the habit of cleaning my place in the morning before I tackle my day.  It's very grown up of me and grown up things are starting to happen.  I guess I still feel like the girl that moved here a decade ago.  My friend said to me the other day.  "you look like a voluptuous 19 year old."  That'll keep me going for a month.  Talk about an ego boost.  I'll take that all the way to the bank.  A voluptuous 19 year old armed  with her check list.

The Bloom is Back

Today I stepped in the direction of my goals.  They are my everyday companions now, and I can't shake them from my psyche.  My yellow lined paper that has them written down comes with me everywhere.  I wrote 10 new ones. Oh my Lordy.  Who am I?  I am cheerleading on my own sideline now and not pushing the pom poms for someone else.  And guess what?  It's working.  I cleaned my car, check.  Did my homework for acting class, check and actually made the journey to the Valley to meet my new classmates, check.  They are a great bunch of colorful people with lots going on.  They are on top of their game and they have goals too.  So in essence, we are partners in crime, we commit the act together.  The act of succeeding.

This is all coming from a girl that devoured all of the Nancy Drew and Little House on the Prairie books.  I adored Laura Ingalls.  She kept me company in those early years.  Back then I used to knit with my grandmother.  I made hats, scarves, baby blankets and sweaters.  Knit one, pearl two.  I accomplished things.  I started and I finished. I think I stopped this when boys came in the picture.  Now I can understand why my Grandmother would call me boy crazy with such disdain on her face.  She knew I was wilting instead of blooming.  Well the bloom is back and the bloom has a woman with freckles on her side.  That woman is me.

It's such a bum deal when you feel under appreciated.  Armed with your morals and your values, you tackle the world only to feel like you fell flat on your face.  It's like doing the stairmaster.  You sweat and step and stay in the same place without moving forward.  I often wondered why I would sign up for those damn classes, those steps always made my thighs look big.  But all was not in vain, it built my stamina, which is just what I needed when it was time to move forward.  So staying in one place and sweating it out is good from time to time.

The girl that wandered through the wilderness of Boston, Europe, New York City and ultimately Los Angeles has found her day in the sun.  I turn my petals toward that light and it comes in many forms.  I have found a wonderful teacher.  She is special.  It is the age old saying "when the student is ready, the teacher will appear", that's me ready for the pickin.  I have found friends, the kind like they write about in the classic novels.  They come armed with great stories of their own.  Heartache and joy that match mine.  We walk together, write letters, and I sit right in front of their song.  The melodies of their lives speak to me. Inspiration that keeps me reaching for a future they can see when I can't.

Tomorrow I will put my body into a pretzel in yoga class.  That's a far cry from the salted pretzels with mustard that I would eat at the county fair.  The twists and bends will clear the path that my mind needs to be on.  Afterward I will play, that's a goal too, to play more.  I will eat lunch, hug my little brother, tell him I love him, water my plant and put another check mark on my list.

Marching to the beat of an impeccable drum.

The California sunshine is sometimes hard to take in.  The haze makes the skyline look like it has rust on it.  Lovely smog.   I usually wear my sunglasses, cheap ones from the boardwalk in Venice.  Only as of late have I decided to grace my face with some designer specs.  Feels good.  Nice things feel good.  Not sure why the finer fare seemed so imaginary to me,  just outside my grasp.  Sure there was a gifting suite here and there and a hand me down or two from a friend that worked with fancy labels, but I never would pay full price.  It something that I just don't do.  I have paid full price for many things though.  A good chunk of my twenties with a guy that played guitar and didn't work, but haven't we all had one of those.  Thank goodness, that never panned out, facebook tells certain truths and a picture is worth a 1000 words, he had his day.  Oh, that was mean. I'm ok with it.  So there.  Purge.

This is figuring it out time for me.  So I'm sure I'll rake a person or two over the coals for a path that I shouldn't have gone down.  The operative word being I.  It's just so much easier to blame someone else.  It's like when I lay in bed at night and watch my favorite soap opera to fall asleep, I've gotten used to it like a lullaby.  Can't run around in that circle anymore, it's not getting me where I want to go.  If any sort of circle is going to be that consistent in my life its going to be the diamond one that hangs from a necklace, they sell it Tiffany's and I always stop at the display case to look at it.  Someday.

Marching to the beat of a different drum is much harder than it sounds.  I have to start by picking up the pieces one by one which really means the clothes and shoes that find themselves on my floor after a long day at work.  I want to put things back where I find them and I want my drawers to be organized.  My grandmother used to wrap her delicates neatly in tissue paper.  Her top drawer was impeccable.  I want to be impeccable.  It's a new shade for me.  One that I've never worn.  

I have goals now.  I had to tell a friend my goals for two weeks, he tricked me, made me say them out loud.  Now I have to keep my word, can't make up any excuses because then I would be running a shoddy business.  The business of me.  If I keep them, he will photograph me.  He's the best at what he does and if all goes well he will make me look like a woman that keeps her word.  That's impeccable.