I’m Starting Over

I just got back from a great weekend. I was invited to perform at a house concert/party on Saturday night in northern California where I will be doing some touring in the near future, so it was great to get out there and connect with new people.

I made plans to come into town early Friday, and then leave late on Sunday, with the intention of hooking up with friends. But after I had made all my non-refundable plans, I learned that everyone I knew was either out of town or unavailable that weekend, so I decided take a mini-vacation for myself.

I went online to Hotwire.com and got a room in a cutesy little art gallery/Bentley-infested beach town for $79.00 a night. Cool!

The first day, after I finally got there, I was a little tired from all the traveling (only got lost 2x though & new IPhone GPS was a big help!), so even though I managed to get in a little beach time, I shortly retired to my room with a take-out from the downstairs chop house (kobe beef & gruyere cheese on thinly sliced chip-style potatoes – yum!) and watched the debates. It was actually pretty great. The beef, cheese & chips combination I mean.

The next morning I got up around 7 and had to walk outside in order to get to the hotel lobby where the free coffee was, and the air was incredible. Cool and sea-breezy. So I got my coffee and just kept walking. For about a mile,  down the relatively deserted streets, past all the cute houses and shops and purple flowers everywhere, humming the Joni Mitchell song “When morning comes to Morgantown.”

I kept walking, all the way down to the beach, where I passed a few fisherman and people walking their dogs. It was a perfect morning.

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A few hours later when I was preparing to check out and leave for the place where the concert was going to be (about an hour away), I decided to pick up some flowers to bring to my hosts. I drove to a nearby (very cute!) market and there was a very nice looking man holding a motorcycle helmet standing in line in front of me. He said “Are you buying those flowers for me?” I said “Yes. Thank you for last night.”

We spoke briefly outside as I admired his Harley, and exchanged #s. He had a wonderful, Armenian accent and he said “I’m going to call you when I get back to… but it might not be a few days till.. etc. etc.” He said he was just trying to reassure me that he wasn’t a “typical guy” who said he would call and then not.” I reassured him. I said “That’s ok. I don’t care.”

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Then I drove to my hosts’ house where the party would be. It was an amazing house – the second to the last one, high up on a hill. There was only one house higher, but you couldn’t see it from the road because it had it’s own little entry gate and road to get to it. I asked my host if that other house was fancier than his, and he said oh yes – it was about double the size! Which was something – because the guestroom I was staying in was already bigger than my first house.

The concert/party went wonderful. A lot of great music, and I made a lot of great, new connections with wonderful people.

Then the next morning I hung out with a fellow singer/songwriter/philosopher who had also spent the night there. We sat on the veranda (as someone had clarified for me – this was not a “patio”, or a “deck”, but a “veranda” – seats around 60-80 pretty comfortably) overlooking the valley, as we sipped our coffee amidst more purple flowers.

He’s been divorced a long time and we got to talking about how people sometimes move right into new relationships, too quickly, and end up with a clone of the previous one.

I get it. I get lonely.  Sometimes a little scared. It would’ve been nice to have someone to hold hands with on the beach the day before, or to eat cheese and chips with (although they would’ve had to order their own:). And then, so many of these not-quite-right but-sort-of-ok men or work opportunities have come along, and I can almost see those little birdcages with their doors open calling to me: “come in! come in!” Ready to whisk this  hayseed out of the sky and lock the door tight behind me.

But this precious freedom right now… Lock yourself in the wrong birdcage and there is no romantic beach to walk on, even if you do catch the bird.

I had lunch today with my friend KP who’s in a life situation similar to mine – she’s around my age, has been married most of her life, and is also going through a divorce. Only difference is, I’m divorced and still living with my ex, and she & her husband are not yet divorced, but he’s moved out.

KP and I talked about our dreams, goals, and plans for the future, and what we’re going to do when we’re finally, truly, on our own.

I asked her if she had done any dating yet, and she said no, not until she’s officially divorced. She asked me if I was dating and I said no, not until I’m officially not living with my ex.

She expressed worthy goals and plans. She wants to travel, get a new car, maybe go back for her masters, and join the Mile High club.

I said to her, with all the new airline regulations, it will probably be easier for her to get her masters than to join the Mile High club.

She said no, someone she knows has a Cessna with a big bed in the back and his business is taking couples up in his plane so they can qualify for membership.  So all she will need is a boyfriend.

I said to her, if she shares her goals and dreams with men that come into her life, she shouldn’t have any problems getting dates.

She admitted I had a good point.  But for now, those dreams are for the future.

Re: dating, we’re both thinking, maybe mid-2009.

More divorce sorting out.

We each got our own cell phone plans, so we’re not longer on the “family plan”, and I got a new I-Phone. LOVE it!

Then we went to the Corporation Commission and formed an LLC to deal with the business that we still do together.

It’s been muggy here and I’ve been sleepy all day. I just got in from teaching and was glad to see that a new Netflix had arrived. I had never heard of it (Cloverfield?), but started reading the description on the back, and it sounded good, till the part about the giant monster launching an attack on New York City and people scrambling in the streets to stay alive. Ok.

It’ll be good to have my own Netflix subscription one day too.

When I go to the gym, I usually have my pick of treadmills, so I choose the one which faces the most interesting TV. But this Sunday I was in the gym and almost all of the treadmills were taken, except for one facing a cartoon show.

It was about a little girl and a dragon and they were best friends and went everywhere together. In this particular episode, they had gone to a party at a castle somewhere, and the girl said something “wrong”, I think she might’ve told a lie or something – I’m not sure, I came in on this a little late, and as a result, events at the party didn’t unfold the way she would’ve wanted them to.

Anyway, she rode home on her dragon and was really mad at herself for not behaving perfectly. Then she started hitting herself, and saying things like “Stupid Stupid Stupid!”

Then the dragon got upset and said to her “Hey! Stop beating up on my friend!”

Wow.  What a wise and wonderful dragon!

I got my pictures back from the handsome photographer. Some of them were pretty cute, very different and kinda sexy (the pictures I mean). He handed me a disk which I brought home and put on my computer and made the mistake of excitedly dragging my ex into my office to show him.

His comments were inappropriately snitty. One picture after another he was making abrupt judgment calls like: “Nope!” “That doesn’t do anything for you!” Like one of those snitty little bitches from high school.

And then I started doubting my own opinion. I was thinking like: “Hmmm. – well maybe those pictures aren’t that good…” And “Well I like them and that should be good enough.” And lastly, “I need to call a few friends and ask them!”

I’ve been working hard on cultivating my own judgments and not caring what others think.

My friends all liked the pictures a lot.

I sensed that my ex‘s strong reaction came from either 1) he didn’t see me like “that”, or 2) the fact that another guy saw me like “that” and I was being like “that”, which maybe he found threatening. (I know. We’re divorced. Doesn’t seem to matter sometimes).

It’s funny, I’m beginning to see more and more of how in relationships, I’ve allowed some of my talents and traits to be nurtured, and others shut down, to twist myself into someone else’s ideal of me.

So now is the season to unravel it all, and come out whole.

I don’t know what else is in there, but maybe when I can stop looking outside to others for validation and conditional love, I’ll find out.

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Btw – the pictures are up on my site under “photos” by C. Blok.

I went in for a facial yesterday and my facialist, TP, comes walking in and she looks terrible. If I hadn’t known her for years I would’ve cancelled.

I did that a few years ago. I had an appointment with a new make-up person and I walked in and I could see that under her heavy make-up she had terrible skin so I cancelled right there on the spot.

But I’ve known TP for years, and this morning she was in mourning. Her grandmother had died a few days ago, and she said it wasn’t so much her grandmother’s death that was setting her in this state, but more, dealing with other family members whom she hadn’t had seen in years, and now they were all back in her life around this, and she was completely stressed out.

She said her father had called her to tell her the news. She hadn’t spoken to him in 3 years and because he called her, she knew someone must’ve died.

I was torn between two conflicting emotions. One, I felt bad for her and wanted to reach out, and two, I was surprised that someone else had that kind of relationship with her father too. Inside I was like “Wow! No sh*#! I’m not the only one!”

I call my father every few weeks. But he only calls here when somebody dies. I dread returning his messages. It’s like, ok, who is it this time.

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I went to the mountains last weekend to stay at my friend EJ’s house. We were originally going to go up together, but she had decided to leave on Thursday and I couldn’t get away till Friday. I said to her I was hoping to have someone to drive with (4 hour drive) so we both tried scrambling around for the next few days to see if anyone else was going to be going up.

EJ said “Drive yourself! It’ll be really good for you.”

It was. She gave me perfect directions. It was actually quite liberating.

I stopped at this one place to grab some coffee and I saw all these cars of families and women sitting in cars with maps out with their husbands drinking coffee and having their little snacks and I walked into the store and some of the mountain-men-type guys looked at me a little strange – like “who’s this independent woman by herself?!!”

Ok, maybe that last part was partly my own projection. But it felt good. I felt quite proud of myself and didn’t get lost once.

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Anyway, coming from my own dysfunctional family background, I have some idea of how TP must feel and what she must be going through.

I’m going to be with a lot of family over Thanksgiving. Some of them, I love, and some of them…

I’m flying across the country and I’ll be there for almost 2 weeks. I’ve never rented a car before because it seems redundant, as there are always plenty of people around I could just get a ride with.

Then I have so many unpleasant memories of this kind of dependence – stuck sitting in the passenger side of the car with the wrong person for too long a drive. This year, I’m going to rent my own car.

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So, TP’s leaning over me, working on my face, half crying and telling me all these stories about crazy relatives as I’m lying on this warm, comfortable table with the new age music playing, trying to relax and thinking “Honey – you’re not vibing with the atmosphere here!” but it’s ok because like I said, I’ve known her for years and I have crazy relatives too.

When we were done, as I was preparing to leave I was searching my brain for something meaningful to say. I handed her a tip and said to her “Always drive.”

I don’t know if she got it, but I did.