03.19.12

Monday Dare: At least I’m not on parole

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. You can click on the link if you’d like to see the full list of Monday Dares or learn more about its origin.

This week: Stop thinking so much.

Some people have friends that live next door. Other people have friends that live in the same city. Me? I have two best friends that live so goddamn far away that every time I want to see them, it’s a real commitment because I have to cross state lines to do so. On every trip, I say a silent thanks to a higher power that I’m not on parole, because I’d hate to clear all of my moves with a parole officer. I’m sorry if you’re a parole officer and I just offended you. Also, you might want to email me your info in case I ever get in trouble with the law because I’m going to campaign for you to be my P.O. I mean, if that’s even a possibility. Do criminals get a say in who gets to be the boss of them?

These trips used to be planned affairs. We would email back and forth for weeks, discussing the best airfare deals and new restaurant reviews. Each trip was a Big Deal. Now, it’s more of a Hey, I just realized I’m free for the next two days, so I’ll just hop in my car and drive 4.5 hours to see you situation.

These long car trips allow me to do something I’m unable to do in my daily life- I can shut my brain off from all of the noisy chatter that goes through my head, and I can enjoy the moment. Even when the Chrysler Sebring in front of me is so excruciating slow, I just want to cut a bitch. Even when I’m 47 miles away from the nearest rest stop and my bladder is screaming at me to find a bush.

This comes as a surprise to me because sitting in a car for over four hours at a time doing nothing but driving and listening to an extensive collection of dubstep and gangsta rap might seem like the perfect time to mull over every major life decision or mistake or fear, but I’ve made the conscious choice to stop fretting and just breathe.

For a long time, I let fear rule my life. I was afraid of doing things wrong. I was afraid of looking uncool. I was afraid to love or put myself out there because I didn’t want to get hurt and I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I obsess about all of these things as soon as I open my eyes, and they are often the last thoughts on my mind as my head hits the pillow.

But on these drives, as I look out the window with the music on full blast, I can let go. I often wave to little kids who are jumping around the back seat and are probably annoying the hell out of their parents. Sometimes, I’ll stop by the Del Taco in Barstow and get a snack. I also pat myself on the back occasionally for evading a life of crime and not being on parole so that I have the freedom to make these spontaneous trips.

Hey, it’s good to celebrate the positives.

How do you unwind?

image via ThroughYourEyes shop on Etsy.com
March 19, 2012
01.09.12

Monday Dare: 1/10/02

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. You can click on the link if you’d like to see the complete list of Monday Dares or learn more about its origin.

This week: Keep moving forward. 

At the age of 21, I made two decisions that profoundly impacted my life. One, I committed to stop living on welfare. And two, I decided to move to California.

I saved enough money for two airplane tickets by pushing fancy lotions and sprays at Crabtree & Evelyn. Since proper luggage would eat up most of the $300 I had left, I bought two plastic tubs at Target, crammed them full of clothing and blankets, and wrapped them securely with bungee cords. BAM. Homettes gittin’ creative. 

When we arrived in Los Angeles, I used one tub as a desk, and Cal used the other as a makeshift playhouse. Please don’t give me shit about letting my kid play in a plastic tub. I removed the lid, laid it on its side, and used a Sharpie to draw two windows and a door. Oh, and a sun. I think *that* gave it a little “something extra.” BAM. Homettes gittin’ creative. 

We had no couch, no real bed, and no dining table. Just a pile of blankets we unfolded every night as our bed, my makeshift desk, and a breakfast tray I pulled out for meals.

The first piece of furniture I proudly purchased was a small dresser from IKEA. I didn’t own any tools, so I used the handle of a hairbrush as a hammer and a nail file as my screwdriver. BAM. Homettes gittin’ creative. 

Lacking marketable skills, my two employment opportunities came down to selling more lotions and potions at a local beauty emporium for minimum wage or stripping. I chose the former option, but I would be lying to you if I didn’t admit that I gave the second option some serious thought.

At each turn, I thought to myself, “This just isn’t the right time. I should be better prepared. I’ll wait. I’ll wait.” I wanted to wait to get off welfare. I wanted to wait to move to California. But I didn’t. Instead, I just kept pushing forward. And I’m glad I did. During a few especially rough weeks, I thought about applying for public assistance again. Once, I got as far as locating a welfare office and gathering all the necessary documents to apply. In the end, I decided I’d rather be hungry and independent, than slightly less hungry and dependent.

Tomorrow is the 10-year anniversary of my move to Los Angeles. This city has loved me and hated me and coddled me and pushed me the fuck around. I’m using this week to reassess, prioritize, and keep moving forward.

What I realize now is that there is never a perfect time, never a “right” time to do anything. You just have to keep moving forward. It can be incredibly scary at times, because the trail you blaze for yourself is often dimly lit and full of things that go bump in the night. Sometimes, you get to where you think you wanted to go and fuck shit damn, it’s not where you wanted to be. That’s okay. Keep moving forward.

What’s the biggest risk you’ve taken?

P.S. THANK YOU SO MUCH for all of the kind words on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page during The Moment Giveaway. Christopher Fan, Carla Smith Pearson, and Kristine Kastner Santiago, please email me at flourishinprogress at gmail dot com with your mailing address.
image via pinterest

January 9, 2012