Close Up

I thought I wanted something the other night. Words can be very inviting.  Or also just a big load of crap.

Few people actually mean what they say.  More pointedly, few back up their words with their actions.  I DO what I say.  I mean what I do.  I don't suffer from buyers remorse or regret my choices because I'm in it when I choose it.
Lucky me.

Today is my movie premiere.  It's the second film premiere for me.  My last premiere was last June and my date was a very awkward, tall, shy kid.  He wanted to talk so I missed the after party.  It was the longest walk of my life and as always him and I ended up nowhere.  Full circle.  Back at a dead end.

This year I am without a shy, confused guy on my arm.  Breathe in a sigh of relief.  I always think I want them near and somehow never remember the sting of their wavering affection.
Somehow I manage to open up again and again and taste their rejection before I realize I've been set up. Well played as always.  Though this girl is beginning to see.

So I took myself to my makeover.  I always do my own makeup so for special events it's nice to have someone else's artistic touch.  I want to look like someone different tonight.  I feel differently.  I am.

I've only been at my new job less than a month and my sales compete with the top seller in my department.  My managers are so proud.  And I am thrilled to see firsthand I'm in the right place.  It feels great being good at something.  And my first paycheck was my instant gratification.  It is more than two times what my best paychecks were last year.  With this kind of income I don't have to fear my singlehood- I can just be.  As I am. Uncommitted. Free to explore. Self sufficient. Sa-tis-fied.
Definitely not without.

So in honor of such an occassion, such mountains climbed, such heights I've managed to stand tall on, I searched for a reminder in a sparkly piece of jewelry.  I adore jewelry.  And I've only bought myself a handful of beautiful pieces.  All meaningful, all at special moments.  There have only been two men in my life who've bought me jewelry.  Funny to have loved so many and maintain so few love tokens.  I don't have any of it anymore.

So I found a gorgeous ring and bought it for myself. 

Because I can.

I really can have my cake and eat it too.

Some, however, cannot.

Damn.

He who hesitates sleeps in an empty bed

I had lunch with my new boyfriend today.
He is everything a beau should be: handsome, adoring, consistently smiling when his eyes look upon me.
Who doesn't eat that up?
It's much too soon to tell but I am most assuredly, at least in part, in love.

But then again, when am I not in love?

It is the sexiest of addictions, after all.

I find that something so fleeting is so much more prevalent than we realize.
Some think if they can't have that one then all meaning in the world is lost.
But surely with all the options, the deviations, the choices at hand, there can't possibly be only one anything?
If it were so, how do we determine if we've ever found it?
One certainty can just as likely be one accepted delusion.
That one, can, in fact, be a big, fat zero.


We believe what we must for our own survival.
People rarely live or speak in truths.
Certainly not in the truths' entirety.

Sometimes I believe people don't know their own truths.
Sometimes they hide them buried below the surface.
Sometimes they lock them up from even their own eyes.

If we truthfully reflected on everything we carry within us we might never get up from under the covers again.

I had a moment of uncertainty.
Something within me wavered, failing to step in any direction.
God, I hate that feeling.
I want to know what I know, feel what is real, no matter how dumb or wrong it may be.
I refuse to dance with such slow trepidation.
I want to run at frightening speeds.
And those fast enough to keep up with me?
They can feel free to take my hand.

But for tonight, I remembered.
I know how I feel.  I know my desires.  I know what I don't want.
And it's nice to feel the wind on my cheeks as I pick up speed once again.

Tonight is mine.
And tomorrow.
And tomorrows infinitum.

Take toos

whether I fall or stand
little words bubble to the surface
I, hand in hand,
with poor choices
still smiling in imaginarium

love returns home
chaos creeping in your bed
You grin, stumped,
lacking understanding of the clarity within

foolhardy, we glance in opposite directions
blind to the flames ahead
such warmth invites
blowing past cherry blossoms

each flower blooms
and remains unpicked
though it reaches towards the sun
seasons past stretch beyond its petals

take back
take twos
take me
not truths

what's shared this eve
remains thru morn
despite the fallen stars
that hide in mirrored sighs

an object in an unnatural state must return to its natural
so here I lie
with your lies
safe

Bye bye Resa

The first time I fell in love I was 19.  I don't mean first kiss or first crush or even first butterflies.  I mean first deep, moving, genuine, changes who you are kind of love.
He was a poet, a musician, a scared little kid buried by the pain of his past.  I was ill equipped.  And codependency never ends well.
Which is probably why nothing terrifies me more.

I think I wanted to be what he needed.  I wanted to make his nightmares go away.  I didn't realize I was incapable of giving him any of what he needed.  Its taken me over a decade to begin to realize the same goes for all the men I love.
I can't be their goddess.
I will only fall from such great heights.

My last love thought of me in such a way.  A Resa way.  It was my duty to comply. 
When someone expects something of you if you love them you will be what they need you to be.
Right?

I can't be so many people anymore.
I'm too tired to carry such expectations.

And from what I've seen those who may stop loving you?
Always do.
And those who continue loving you when you're no longer there's to hold?
They are mere fantasy, great folklore, the stories of yesteryear.
They are the true princes.
They love you as all you'll never be.

You will, I will

Perhaps not to be is to be without your being,
without your going, that cuts noon light
like a blue flower, without your passing
later through fog and stones,
without the torch you lift in your hand
that others may not see as golden,
that perhaps no one believed blossomed
the glowing origin of the rose,
without, in the end, your being, your coming
suddenly, inspiringly, to know my life,
blaze of the rose-tree, wheat of the breeze:
and it follows that I am, because you are:
it follows from ‘you are’, that I am, and we:
and, because of love, you will, I will,
We will, come to be.


 -Pablo Neruda

Next Time

Next time I'll be more open.
I won't be so nervous.
Next time when I speak I'll erase the phrase never mind from my sentences.
And you will too.

Next time I'll sit next to you instead of across from you.
And I'll hold your hand and reassure you things will be okay.
Next time I'll tell you that I'll always be here, even as time will change my significance.
And I'll tell you how grateful I am you're so different.

Next time I'll tell a witty story that gives you a side ache from laughing so hard.
And our laughter will be so loud people will glare from nearby tables.
Next time we'll shop at my favorite store and pick outfits for the other to try.
And then we'll find matching shirts in the most hideous print we can find.

Next time you'll tell me something true.
And a secret you forgot you were hiding.
Next time I won't look away when your eyes look so deep into mine.
And I'll listen to all they are saying.

Next time you'll tell me what you were actually thinking each time you stopped midway through a sentence.
And I'll be bold enough to tell you why I couldn't sleep.

Next time you'll bring me flowers.
Next time I'll kiss you goodbye.
In case I've used up all my next times.

I. AM. Scandalous.

My phone is possessed.
At least I am hoping that is the case because the alternative is that someone hacked into my email account and is playing some odd little blast from the past trick on me.
A) Who would be coo-coo-kachoo enough to exert so much energy and time to do such a thing?
And B) I thought my stalkers were present day not circa 2006?

I mean that with love, of course.

The first few emails that appeared on my Blackberry were from my old friend Stephanie when we were getting an apartment together.  That was kind of sad because we've since had a falling out and in spite of my efforts for a reconciliation I have not heard from her in six months.
Sad. Day.

It took me a time or two to notice the year on the email.  2006? I remember squinting to read one morning.  What the hell?
Next was an email from my mom sent a couple times that said Congrats on your new job!  Which also made me do a double take because I DID just get a new job.  But this was the new job I got in 2006. 

Again, WEIRD.

But the most oh so disturbing email of all is one I have now received FOUR times in the past 3 days (which is making my girlfriend's theory that I've been hacked seem a greater possibility) and it reads Cute pics of Ali and Resa and houses 5 pictures of me and Narcissus.

Maybe Ali hacked your account and is sending them to you, my friend speculated.  It's not hard to do.
Ok.  But as stellar major as I am, the last time I saw Narcissus was THREE. YEARS. AGO.
And his parting words?
Fuck off, ok?
I seriously doubt he would take the time in his busy making hundreds of thousands of dollars schedule to waste time on lil' ol' me.

But this whole 5 year old emails bombarding my phone thing got me thinking about the past and so I went perusing through old emails the other night.
And I came to a rather shocking conclusion.

I, Teresa Renee, am scandalous.

There are certain things we might remember about ourselves.  Maybe we're tapped into some of our faults or areas of weakness but there are others where it takes evidence staring you in the face to realize.

I came across an email I'd sent to Narcissus when we'd been dating for about a month.  The subject read Why are we so cute.
Awe.  Isn't that precious?
GAG.
On the SAME day I sent an email to Mr. Hollywood, the kid I'd met at a party the same week I'd started dating Narcissus and his subject read Wow have I mentioned you're hot??
Shame thy name is Reese.

So ok, technically we'd only been dating a month.
Ahem.
Did I mention that the first few weeks we were dating I also went out with a guy from my sociology class twice, Mr. Volcano twice (back then he was merely a painfully-shy-didn't-stand-a-chance-nice-boy, not the infamous Mr. Volcano) AND I still had a thing for my ex Jimmy and went to a Modest Mouse concert with him.

Before Narcissus I dated Jimmy and I started dating Jimmy while I was still dating the Orthodox kid.  Again I didn't think it was a big deal because we'd only been dating several weeks and any guy that says I love you after 3 weeks deserves to have me kiss someone else.
I mean, REALLY.

And sure all this happened in my early 20's, in college, so it was an age thing, right?

Oh but then there was 2 years ago when I started dating Mr. Volcano for reals. 
He's like a fine wine- he needed several years to age and mature for best results--although apparently I cracked that bottle open too early.  Yet again.  But I digress.

The first month I dated Mr. Volcano he went to California and I made out with the Texter!

Again we weren't officially exclusive yet but I would just like to ask the question resonating in my brain:

What the hell is wrong with me?!?

Is it any wonder I fell for Prince Charming?
I think not, my friends.  I think not.

I'm hoping the next hot guy I date doesn't come with extra hot distracting side kicks.

Wait.
What am I saying!

TO SCANDAL!

....'twill be....

When you wish upon a star

I'm not really sure why but my inner child made a fierce break the other night.

I took Maggie to see Tangled which was FAN-TA-STIC. 
I remembered why I love Disney so damn much.
That was so good, Maggie turned to me when the credits started rolling.
I know, I agreed.  I'm almost 30 and I just cried at a Disney movie.
Me too! she laughed.

And sometimes you need a good Disney cry.

Good always overcomes evil.
The prince always comes through in spite of his uncharming qualities.
The princess discovers the magic was always within her.
No matter what color her hair.

It was just so simple.  And sweet. 
And so fun to laugh at something light hearted.
I guess I hadn't done that in awhile.

And it was swell.

I even went to the grocery store afterward to get a few things and got myself some easter candy and cheetos puffs.  I am quite certain I have no idea what year it was the last time I bought puffs but I can tell you I was very excited about them.  I told the cashier I was channeling my inner kid that day.  And she admitted she'd been eyeing the robin eggs too.

It was the same day I worked my last Starbucks shift and as weird as this may sound I was kind of bummed about it.  I know I have this new, fantastic job and I couldn't be happier!  But Starbucks was such a part of my life for so long, so many friends and romances were wrapped up in it, leaving it felt kind of sad. 
In some odd way it was like admitting it was all really over.
And it was time to really close the book and put it on the shelf. 
No pages were to be ear marked for possibility anymore.

And I guess I wasn't quite ready to be a grownup.

But thankfully, I still have Disney.

And something tells me my happy ending will also involve an unlikely prince.
In spite of my hacked off brunette hair.
Or maybe because of it.

You never know, right?

Dreams always come true in Disney.

Never say never

Do you know what I love most about my friends?
I love how they often think so differently from me.
They can shed light on things I've never understood clearly.
And sometimes they just say things I completely disagree with.
But THAT helps me understand why I do believe what I do.

I met with a friend earlier today. 
We were talking about sordid pasts.
And I opened up about my Pollyanna idealism that one day our paths would cross and our interactions would be different.
You will never be friends, she told me.
And it made me realize something.

I am not a Never kind of gal.
Was my friend wrong in her surmise?
Probably not.
If the past were made into a flow chart, a power point presentation and a poll of all parties involved then I'm sure all liklihood, all evidence, all logic, reason and sanity would agree with my friends conclusions.

But I subscribe to the theory of All Possibility.
Not probability.
Mountain moving, jaw dropping, shock the crap right out of you possibility.

Regardless of whether or not we will ever be friends, I, Resa that I am, will hold fast to the fact we could be friends. 
ALL things are possible to those who believe.

If God wants someone to be in your life He can light a fire under their scrawny ass to email you.
If He wants someone out of your life He will make sure they stay in the mountains for good.

It's as easy as pie.
Boysenberry pie.
Which I'm currently off of.
For the moment, anyway.

Pick-a-little

I am blessed to know a lot of incredible women.
Some offer support or pearls of wisdom.
Some take it upon themselves to be my voice when I can't speak.
A rarity, to be certain.
And there are still others who get all fired up when I've chosen to accept fate with grace and dignity.

I love seeing the most loving women open up a can of Whoop Ass to defend their favorite Reese.

Three of the women that are closest to me all got really angry when they found out I didn't make the dance team: My Bestie, My Mother and My Grandmother.

I didn't make the team, Grandma, I told her over dinner.
WHAT? WHA--You didn't make the--Well WHO DID?? she nearly exploded.
I didn't know and I told her how I was a little disappointed but trusting He had other uses for my time.
We continued eating in silence for the next several minutes.
You're taking this better than me, she'd said.  I'm still mad.
I told her about how they open the choreography classes so I can still go to learn the routines for fun and if they ever need an extra body I will be on the list of potential candidates, should they need me.
The look and scoff that appeared on Grandma's face?  Priceless.
Well, I wouldn't go, if I were you.  I wouldn't make it easy on them, she said with her adorable 86 year old pride. 
I couldn't stop laughing. 
Mother was equally upset at the poor casting choice and I'm pretty sure Betty Ann's WHAAAT?! on the phone when I told her was equal to Grandma's in horrified shock.

It's nice knowing those closest to you've got your back when you're busy accepting what's meant to be, will be.

And truth be told?
I think they were madder than me.
That kinda makes me giggle.

I mean, it was my little mini dream.  Why was I so alright not getting it?

Because I've become a professional in the art of rejection.  Bring it, baby.  This Reese is STRONG.

The thing about not getting what you want all the time?
You realize how swell life can still be when you don't get what you want all the time.
All those relationships I lost have been replaced by new ones.
I go to work and people are thrilled to see me not whispering about me.
Folks are seeking me out to make lunch dates not cancelling them. 

And being able to hear I wasn't cast on a dance team I'd been pining for the last several months and still be able to be so content is only possible because of all the past I've overcome.

If nothing went wrong for you today then you did not grow.
Going through trials, enduring them and managing to have a good attitude while doing so means you're growing and you're stronger!!

So when those joy stealing circumstances arise that seem daunting and off putting and annoying as hell, just tell yourself I'm not impressed.  Cuz if you don't get impressed you won't get oppressed  or depressed or possessed.
You'll be far too busy believing the best.

They like me

There is a woman who works at my store who is...well...
You know Mrs. Snow in Pollyanna?
The one whose always sick and complaining about dying?
Who wants lambs broth if you bring her roast chicken?
Well, she's as likable as her.

Don't get my reference?
Let's just say she's a bitch-a-rooni-dooni.
The Shrew, if you will.

But somehow, clearly Divine Favor, she likes me.  I don't quite know what I did to win her over.  Just trying to be my loving, positive self to all I encounter.  And the other day she told me how fantastic I am.  I like you.  And I don't like everybody, she said.  She even helped me book an appointment for an event we're having.  Anyone else I'd just put it in my name.  But to help you out?  I will do it for you!

Unbelievable.

I also offered to close her tills for her so she could leave early.  Have you noticed nobody does that? she asked.  So she was very grateful.  I'm quite certain I heard her say I love you as she was leaving.

It's amazing what favor walking in love will earn you.

And those 15 appointments I needed to book in the next four days?
I booked 14 in one day.
I have the raddest friends in the world.

Star Light

I didn't make the cut.
I got a very loving rejection email and an invitation to participate in the classes to learn the routines but I didn't earn a spot on the dance team.

And the kind of keen part is that I had a surprisingly calm peace when I read the email.
Way to go Reese!  I remember thinking.
You passed the test!  You are believing the best!  You are not letting your circumstances steal your joy!  Gold star!  Woohoo!
Oh, but then I read that sentence.
We love your charisma and outgoing personality, which is not always captured on a video recording.

My face started twitching.
Grrrrrr.
Angry. Angry. Resa.

Part of the reason I was so incredibly upset with the fact my co worker wouldn't work my shift the day of the auditions is because I KNEW I would miss out on showcasing myself.  I am a performer.  I thrive in front of an audience.  There are times in class where our instructor divides us into two groups and just knowing there are folks watching me always kicks my dancing up a notch.  And I learn quickly.  And I can out smile Miss America.
And a one minute video doesn't show all that.
If I could have been there I would have had a much better shot at the team.

It felt like the. most. pointed. test. EVER.

Like, if they would have said you're too curvy or your technique isn't strong enough or we don't like your black hair I would have just shrugged and thought, Whatever. Your loss, bitches!
But to have it brought up that my video audition lacked a certain something and that I was right there on the cusp of being selected, having great potential buuuuuutttttt......
No.
GAH!

It's like getting a B+ when you studied your ass off.
You're like soooooooo close to an A but not.
Why not just get a solid C?
Leave room for absolutely no doubt.

Oh my God, I tell you what.  I started working on stock in the back room muttering, All things work together for good to those who love God and are called according to His purpose.  All things work together and are good.....Grrrr, I can't believe it!.....All things work together.....

It's kind of ridiculous hillarious when you think about it.
HA!
Good one, Big G!
You're SOOO HI-LARIOUS!!

The thing is, I know these things are political.
There are a hundred different factors in determining who gets cast and why.
Once I didn't get a role because the director said they wanted a blonde.
Cough. 
Wig?  Ever heard of one?

One time I auditioned for a role in a musical that I wanted SO BAD.
I mean, I went through several rounds of callbacks. 
There was dancing, there was singing, there was acting.  And I poured my little heart out into all of it.
I remember even forming real tears when I was reading an emotional scene.
If I don't get the part I know there is nothing more I could have done, I thought.
And I didn't get it.
But at least I knew I got to show all I was.
So it was fine.

But feeling like I missed out on getting to show my all because some girl didn't want to have to work all weekend and wanted to hang out with her boy.friend. makes fumes shoot out of my ears.

And here's where forgiveness and grace and compassion kick in.

I can't blame my co worker.  I can't even blame the clueless judges.  They don't know me.  And if God had wanted to grant me favor with the judges He would have made every single one of them fall in love with my fabulousness. 

It really is that black and white.
Regardless of how much I'd like to think my efforts could have changed the outcome.

Besides, as my wonderful Mother pointed out, Maybe you would miss out on meeting your future Prince Charming.
I smiled.

Who knows what surprises lay up ahead.
And just because one person didn't see what a star I am doesn't mean someone even more important won't.

Light this bright is impossible to ignore forever.

Little Blue Pill Premiere!

Hollywood Theatre
Saturday, March 26 at 9:00pm

 Get your tickets now for only $8 at https://robot.boxofficetickets.com/800-494-TIXS/WebObjects/BOTx2005.woa/wa/inspectProgram?id=133725&passKey=eb607cfd10

My very first role in my very first film.
It's history in the making, folks.

It's going to be a wild screening.
Voodoo Doughnuts is making special Little Blue Pill doughnuts just for this event!
The Little Blue Pill mascot PILLY is making his debut appearance.
More surprises in store!

Come and be a part of LITTLE BLUE PILL's World Premiere taking place at the historic Hollywood Theater in Portland, Oregon Saturday March 26th at 9pm.



ALSO, Little Blue Pill is going to be on Netflix but it needs your help! Netflix will only add the movie if we get a certain amount of peopleadding it to their Queue, starring it and reviewing it. Please go tothe link below and ADD IT TO YOUR QUEUE. If you've already seen it then rate it and give it a short review. Also, please share this link with your friends and tell them to add it to their queue. http://movies.netflix.com/Movie/Little_Blue_Pill/70175131?trkid=2361637#height69



Movie info and trailer http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1583307/

The Role of "Friend, who is a part of my life" shall be played by....

To Whom it May Concern,

I had a thought.

Ok, so maybe I had several thoughts. 
When do I ever have a, implying singular, anything?
More is more, honey!
I digress.

The only way to right a wrong is to replace injustice with justice, to replace deceit with truth, to align your thought life with your actual life.
And choose not to allow yourself to meditate on anything that keeps you out of God's will.
Or that keeps you from telling all you love the truth.
And nothing but the truth.
So help you, stranger.

Secrets feel exciting.
They give you a rush like you're on the edge of something dangerous.
But highs give way to crashes.
And withdrawal is not so thrilling.
Even on the appealing.

I remember when I dated Jimmy I'm certain half the appeal was the fact we had to keep it a secret.
He was my manager and it was forbidden.
Sssh! 
We were so sneaky!
But the store manager figured it out anyway.
Those who feel they embody the stealth of a cat are often as transparent as my skin.

Eventually those you most greatly fear are the very ones who will unveil the truth.

No bueno.

I want so much more for you.

So I propose a new script, Restoration: Chapter One.

If the rumor mills have printed a truthful story then the headline reads Wanting What's Best for the Princess.
I, as Fate would have it, have interviewed this Princess since receiving the latest news.
She concurs that friendships, old and new alike, are most assuredly always a blessing.

That is, when the friendships are on the level.
In openness.
For all cast and crew to witness.
And for the Leading Man and Leading Lady to agree upon.

What's best for the Princess is what's honest, genuine, truthful and sincere.
Not what becomes inconsistency, double mindedness, deception and distrust.
She already starred in I Love You but I Can't be in Love Right Now in the Off Off Broadway production.

New roles are what's in fashion now.
Blonde is out.  And black is in.

So if Restoration is a script that appeals to you then the next course of action would be to ask your Leading Lady if there is a role within the story that the Princess could be suited for.

Some divas don't like sharing their stage with those they fear might upstage them.

So if not cast in that production there will be plenty of other roles in store for the Princess.
She's not worried about her starring roles.
She just generously offered to play the role of the Friend in this particular script.
At the request of the Leading Man.

But if the role is not best suited for all the players then the Leading Man should really accept the plot his Leading Lady has written.
He did cast her in the role after all.

Savvy?

My Audition

Who who what what?

People make no sense.
No, y'all don't.
Especially when it comes to friends and foes.

I found out someone I'd assumed blocked me on Facebook actually hasn't.
And someone I didn't expect to block me has.

Why is it the people you think still care about you don't and the ones you thought merely used you care more than the ones you believed loved you?  Why do I never hear from the kid who wanted so badly for us to be different and I know I'll always hear from the one who said he was to have nothing more to do with me ever again?

Come to think of it, why do men keep saying that to me?

My brain is getting dizzy.

I can forgive anyone.
Yes, it may take some time but I'm learning pretty quickly that the only way to be happy is to release anger so it doesn't fester into bitterness and resentment and steal my joy.

But one thing I may never be blessed with is understanding.
I will never understand why Mr. V turned out to be the villain and PC turned out to be the one who cares.
Backwards, I tell you!  Backwards!

I am starting to believe men are not simply as black and white as the girly books would like us to believe.

I don't get it.
But I refuse to exert too much energy trying to crack the case.

They either love me or love me not.
And if they love me not?
Well.
I am so sorry for your loss.

I'll have the croissant, please

This morning I went to this amazing boulangerie I discovered that happens to be just down the street from me and Grandma.  I ordered an omlette with spinach, tomato and brie with potatoes and butternut squash, coffee and a croissant.
Would you like toast or a croissant?
Um.  Is she kidding?

I knew this restaurant and I were long lost soul mates because anywhere that offers up a croissant as a side the way most restaurants offer up dry toast is fancy.  And Fancy Nancy learned all her sparkly feather boa wearing ways from Moi.  Moi is french for me.  That's the fancy way of saying myself. C'est magnifique!

It was lovely discovering a little breakfast nook so close to home since all of my other favorite brunch places reside in Southeast.  Sometimes driving 20 minutes for eggs just feels like a lotta work on your day off.  And today I wanted to lay low and stay in awhile.  And I also didn't feel like a side of dirty hippie with my eggs.  I didn't really feel like a side of anyone really.  Except perhaps for a few certain people who want what's best for me which means they probably already understand how much Resa's need their alone time.  Recharging and refueling make Resa's their best.

And I thought about some of the lovely ladies who I now work with.  Who are all dieting.  You know that scene in Mean Girls when they stand around the mirror and go off about their terrible qualities?   My hairline is so weird.  My pores are huge.  My nail beds suck.  It feels kinda like that in the Land o' Lipstick.  And none of these girls obsessing over food is overweight.  Sure, some are curvier than others.  Maybe they need to drink more water and make more time for exercise each week but drinking slim fast shakes?  I don't think so. 
They always make my stomach hurt but they work so I'm gonna keep drinking them and just endure it. 
Why don't you listen to your body? I asked.
She just shook her beautiful blonde hair at me.
I've been really good all week, another girl bragged.  And I sighed that yet another person was convinced about the morality of food.  To eat chocolate is to sin.  To eat carrots honors God.
Oy.

I will never be a diet girl.  Yes, when I was a teen I jumped on that band wagon.  It's a right of passage when you're 15.   I remember in junior high one of my girlfriends convinced me to steal diet pills with her.  I thought we were SO cool.  But I'm pretty sure I was more interested in earning that girls friendship than I was in the boxes promise of losing 10 pounds in 2 weeks.

I love food.  I love to be around people that enjoy food.  I remember when Narcissus and I started dating I thought it was so nice being around a guy that wasn't weird about food.  He was simply, Me hungry.  Mmm.  Food good.  Now sleepy.
 I dated Tarzan, didn't you know?

Why are people so obsessed with getting smaller?  With changing how they look?  With not accepting who they are right now?

You've already lost so much weight! I told a girl at my dance studio.  You look fantastic!  She was complaining about her "problem areas" and how much more weight she needed to lose.
What size are you now? I asked her.
I'm between a 6 and an 8.  But I wanna be a 4.  That's my goal and then I'm gonna stop.
And I just shook my head and smiled.

Honey, if you can't love that size 6 you what makes you think you'll love that size 4 you?
She, too, will still harbor flaws.
I've come to embrace mine.

Isn't it sad?  I mean, don't you wish these beautiful women who look in their mirrors and see round bellies and cellulite and hips that will never get smaller instead loved and worshiped how God made them?  Maybe spent more energy on loving everyone including their own big butts and less time criticizing?

They will never be satisfied if they can't be satisfied today.
They can lose that 10 pounds or 3 dress sizes and still find something else that needs improving.
Sure I'd love to become fit enough to show off my toned lil' body in booty shorts and a barely there bra.  But mostly to get to Prince Charming and Mr. Volcano and every other heart breaker so their hearts would sink and I could enjoy a sly Veronica smile and whisper Eat your heart out, boys.
But they already do that.  Fools know when they've been foolish.  They're not that moronic after all.
And they do miss me.
Which totally makes me happy.
And besides, a new body would be more a way to torture the men I still love.
Not because I don't love me.
I'm gorgeous today!  Thanks for noticing.

I guess I will always be a croissant girl.
And that?  Well, that simply makes me fabulous.
Pass the butter, please.

Something's Gotta Give

I have never lied to you. I have always told you some version of the truth.
The truth doesn't have versions, okay? 
Will you cut me a little slack? My life has just been turned upside down.
Mine too!
Well, then let's just each get our bearings.
I don't want my bearings. I've had my bearings my whole goddamn life. I feel something with you I never really knew existed. Do you know what that's like, after a 20-year marriage to feel something for another person that is so...? That... Do you know what this is?
No.
This is heartbroken.
You're killing me.
I just wish that it had lasted more than a week.
Me too.
That is a terrible thing to say. You know, the life I had before you I knew how to do that. I could do that forever. But now look at me. What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do with all this?




You know what. If it's all right with you, I'd like to be friends.
Friends? I'm not ready to be your FRIEND!
Fine, I understand.
And anyway, do you really buy that horseshit that a man and a woman can be friends after they've had sex?
I'm friends with my ex-husband but then again, we didn't just have sex.
We didn't just have sex either.
Then what was it? I'd love to know.
Can I email it to ya when I figure it out?  I think I'm entering into another phase with this thing. I'm mad at you.
I think I'm mad at you too.
Good, because I don't LIKE thinking about you all the time and worrying about how you are...
You... worry about ME?
Yes, honey. The schmuck, who deserves to die, worries about you. Sometimes worrying about you feels like a full-time job.
Well I'm doing just fine, so you don't have to work that shift anymore!

Get Bold

Don't you know that anything you have to keep a secret is not a wise choice?
And God knows.
So who you done hidin' from anyhow?
Hmm?

(I get a little southern when I'm feelin' preachy, so just bear with me and embrace the sass in my imaginary Georgia accent).

The thing about faith is you have to believe.
You can't just say, Oh yeah, sure, I believe in God.  I believe He can make miracles happen.
And then tie yourself in knots trying to make something be that you know very well isn't likely to be the will of the Big G.

Come on now.

You have to trust with blind faith.  You've got to say, Alright, things right now don't seem so great.  I don't seem to be gettin' what I want anytime soon but I KNOW that I know that I know that You, all powerful, Almighty can make the impossible possible.  And when I learn to truly delight in You then I'm gonna get the desires of my heart.

That doesn't sound too shabby, does it?

Another important point I think those not cloaked in boldness as I am forget, You have not because you ask not.
You want something that seems an impossibility?
Start praying about it!
ASK for it!
And if it requires permission from your other half to do so then ask them!
Ask God to give you the words to communicate your desires to them.
Ask God to give them compassion and insight to understand the true motives behind your desires.
Go ahead and ask them if we can all meet for drinks.
Be bold.
So much could happen.

Need I remind you of what happened after I obeyed a prompting to write a letter to my father confessing the truth of why I moved.  And what I needed from him.
Mountains.  Moved.
And what if I'd just claimed the impossible to be as such?

You want change?
Then you have to change.
You have to get off your cute lil' rear and start living each day differently.
You have to be the one to apologize first.
You have to be the one to pray more and criticize less.
You have to remind yourself I may not be where I need to be but thank God I'm not where I used to be.

God's will shall be done. 
No matter how much we gum up the works.
So why don't you ask for what you want, learn to be content while you wait to see if you'll get it and trust if you DON'T get it, then it's for your own good.

Seven months ago I wanted something so badly with every little ounce of love in my heart. 
Oh how I wanted what I wanted! 
And I didn't get it.
Not even close.
Kind of the antithesis, actually.
Ooh and I was so stinkin' mad! 
Can I just get something for me?!! I remember whining.
2010 was all about getting nothing I wanted.
The Princess had to retire her crown.

But it sure taught me a whole heck of a lot.
Can I tell you I'm pretty certain I was saved a whole lotta heartache and drama by NOT getting what I so very badly wanted.

I also auditioned for a play 5 months ago.  The first show I'd auditioned for in months.  The first one I'd been genuinely stoked for.  And I rocked my callbacks.  I wasn't playing the character, I WAS the character.  And I didn't get it.  And you know?  Somehow a part of me wasn't surprised.  I was getting pretty good at bouncing back from disappointment.  Bring it!  I thought.  Ain't no man, no thing, stealin' my joy!

And I got a notice about that very same play with the performance dates.
Wouldn't you know it, if I'd been cast in that play, that very same one I wanted oh please oh please oh please, can't I just have something for me?
I wouldn't be able to attend my movie premiere in 2 weeks.
Something that is FAR more important than any Lake Oswego play.

Funny how things work out.

So stop pretending and start believing.
And you'll find through Him you'll make mountains crumble.

You know what impossibility I'd love?
I'd love my friend to be at my movie premiere, with his gal on his arm.
And that?
Well, that right there is crazy talk.
But I'm still gonna ask for it.
And be ridiculously happy whether I get it or not.

Cuz I know that He gives me the true desires of my heart.
Cuz I most assuredly delight in Him.

I am your friend

Friend:

a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.

a person who is on good terms with another; a person who is not hostile

 

There's this personality test called Myers Briggs and when I took it I was an ENFP.  There's a lot to be said about ENFP's (paragraph after paragraph about how fabulous I am!) But one thing that has always stood out in my mind is relationships with ENFP's.

 

I'm someone who needs connection.  I have a lot to say and I need to be able to express all that's within me and know that what I'm saying is being received.  I need to know I have a positive impact on the lives of people I have relationships with.  I need to help, encourage, inspire, keep accountable.  I need to hear from them, be it letters, texts or Facebook pokes just to know I'm in their thoughts.  And those closest to me are the people I either see the most frequently or have maintained contact with the longest.  My closest guy friend I may only hear from a couple times a year but he's been around over a decade.  He always contacts me.  And that meets my greatest need.

 

In contrast, some of the people I've loved most in my life, the beaus and girlfriends, are the types of personalities that withdraw and disappear for great stretches of time.  I won't hear from them unless I make the first move.

To the ENFP, that would be me, almost nothing is more painful.

 

But the reason these personality tests or relationship and self help books really do help is because understanding another person's madness makes it so much easier to not be hurt by the things that would normally hurt us.  If I know that one person needs me to give them the space of three months to communicate my love then it doesn't feel like indifference when they miss my play or fail to contact me on my birthday.

 

We all express love differently.

 

And I heard from a little east coast birdie that someone I no longer speak with wants to be my friend.  That they want me to be a part of their life.  And it made me smile because somehow I know their Myers Briggs result must be on par with mine.  No contact to them feels like indifference.  But affection is not nearly so cut and dry.

 

I was surprised when reading the definition of friend how broad and vague it is.  I think if I took a poll and asked folks to define it the definitions would include making time for one another and having consistent contact.  But a true friend is merely someone who thinks well of you. 

And you don't have to see me to send happy thoughts my way.

 

I think the best way to be a friend to the people you are no longer blessed to see day by day, week by week, is to speak well of them.  When those who are in your life bring up the friend speak only words that are loving, that edify and uplift.  True friends stand up for each other.  And never stand idly by to engage in slander and the spreading of falsehoods.

I think the best way to be a friend is to give those going through life transitions the space and the room to change and grow. 

When my Grandma walked into the living room today she said, There's the lady with the black hair I hardly recognize.

I like change, I replied.

I know you do, Grandma chuckled.  And that's wonderful because so many people don't.

 

Friends give each other what the other needs most, what is best for them, even if that forces one to lose what they'd like most.

Friends pray for one another and trust that if God wants their paths to be aligned He most assuredly will make it so.

Friends believe the best of one another in spite of the rumor mills.

And friends only ever speak the truth.

And walk in love where each is concerned.

 

I will always be a friend.

Even if only in memory.

My Application

Dance Experience

 

 

I took dance for probably about 15 years or so as a kid.  I was on the dance team in high school and have danced in a lot of musicals throughout the last decade for professional theatre companies including Broadway Rose and The Lakewood.  I stopped taking dance the last part of high school because when you're in marching band, choir, theatre and dance, something's gotta give.  I stuck with choir and theatre and retired my flute and dancing shoes.

 

Discovering Diva Den in January has been one of the best things that's ever happened to me.  I love dancing again.  I love that it can be a part of my adult life and that I'm just as passionate about it now as I was when I was 11.  If I have a stressful day or some asshat broke my heart or everyone in the universe is getting on my nerves because I'm having the worst PMS of my life, I can go to dance class and smile for an entire hour.  I love having dance as an outlet.  It makes me feel confident and energized.  And while I know they say it's best for our bodies to have a "day of rest" I wish I could be dancing every day because I miss it when I don't.

 

 

Hobbies/Interests

 

 

I live to inspire people.  I love music.  I play the piano and I sing.  I act.  I dance.  I write.  I love to read.  I love God.  I love sex.  (Juxtoposed to make you smile.)  I also love making people laugh.  This is why I'm the comedian in my family.  I love men.  Which usually gets me in trouble.  I love making women feel beautiful.  I dream one day of being a personal shopper.  I hope to write a book that will be published.  I plan on writing about the idiotic choice I made last year.  This dance studio helped me find a new identity after recovering from that idiotic choice.  I love having an audience.  In everything I do I strive to walk in love.

 

 

 

Hidden Talents

 

 

I am an opera singer.  I studied music and theatre in college and used to dream of performing on Broadway.  I've spent the last decade performing in local theatre, musical theatre and film.  My breakout film role in "Little Blue Pill" premieres at the Hollywood Theatre on March 26th.  I was Elle Bentley, the Buxom Blonde.  My 'ladies' got me the role.  They are also one of my talents.  Not so hidden, though.  I'm becoming a pretty keen writer, in my oh so humble opinion.  I started a blog last year at the annoying persistent request of a friend.  Now there are actually people who 'follow' my blog and I hear every week from someone whose been influenced by what I write.  Inspiring others is my aspiration.  I specifically have it on my heart to inspire and encourage women.  I also secretly want every woman to rock red lipstick.  There's something empowering about red lips--people respond to it!  I have a contagious effervescence that forces nearly everyone I encounter to smile.  You're smiling right now, aren't you?  And I'm not even there!!!  Don't you wish I was??

 

 

Why do you want to dance for Dolled Up?

 

 

I live with my Grandma.  She told me a story recently recalling a time we went to visit her in Eugene when I was about 7 or 8.  She said I brought all these different kinds of dance shoes and dance costumes and announced I was going to dance for her.  She said she remembered it because of how determined I was about performing for her.  "You came prepared," she said.  "You had enough clothes in that suitcase for weeks and weeks and you stayed for a weekend."  It made me smile when she told me that.  I was telling her about these auditions and how much I wanted to be on the team.  But that I know if it's meant to be it will work out and if not, then I trust it won't happen for a reason. 

 

I'm a determined little lady.  If this was a reality tv show this would be the point where I turned to the panel of judges and poured my heart out about how much it would mean to me to be on the team.  I'd tell you that I'd consistently give it my all in every rehearsal and performance.  I'd open up about all the painful things that happened last year and how dancing again, for the first time in a very long time, has brought a new joy, a new love into my life.  I'd probably even get all choked up and start to cry.  I can be quite a girl at times.  I LOVE performing.  I LOVE dancing.  That story about me dancing for my Grandma is how I've been my whole life.  Whether it was singing or acting or being the funny entertainer in my family, I live for an audience.  I love knowing I'm responsible for putting a smile on someone's lips.  I know Megan would agree that I am definitely the ham of the girls at Diva Den.  I'm loud.  I'm opinionated.  Nothing about me is subtle.  And that would make me such an asset to the team.  I'm also a curvy size 12 who loves her body and that would inspire the women around me and in the audience who aren't a fit size 4.  But who would definitely agree with me that I am beautiful and I sure can shake it!

 

I pour my heart into everything I do.  I am so passionate about dancing and that will be so evident to an audience member whose lucky enough to watch me perform.  Their eyes will be drawn to me.  Because anyone who pours their heart into what they do as much as I do is captivating.  And what better person to put onstage than someone who wants to be there with every fiber in her being, whose been humbled by her poor choices and is so thankful for every day that is given to her.  And is determined that if she's onstage, her role is to put a smile on every face in that audience. 

 

In short, I not only would be a strong performer.  But I would also be the team morale cheerleader, encouraging everyone, continuing to be my silly, outrageous self and making sure everyone in class or at our events is inspired.

Maybe I will be wrong

Sometimes I remember the most random things.

I remember almost verbatim the entirety of the email I sent to Mr. Volcano months ago.  I remember the text I received from Prince Charming's Queen when he tricked me into believing it was him I was talking to.  I remember the ridiculous amount of nights I spent at that Lebanese restaurant thinking that night was going to be the one Narcissus turned back into a prince.

I'm no expert.  I don't think anyone can truly be a guru on the powers of the Big G but I'd like to think I can at least be an expert on learning from my own idiotic choices.  And one thing I can say is that childish behavior is not rewarded.  And you will never get anything if you need it to the point that your happiness depends on it.

I used to want one thing and one thing only: to be reconciled to my lost love.  At first, of course, like any stubborn dumpee I was convinced we should be together.  Then as months passed, I accepted that wasn't what was best for either of us.  But I believed we were to still play an important role in each others lives.  Mr. Volcano, however, felt differently.  It was the most hurtful, unpleasant goodbye of my life.  Narcissus was certainly a close second. 
But Mr. Volcano was different because it was much more pointed. 

It's the people who've truly loved you that have the capability to hurt you in the harshest way.

So for some damn reason (and yes, it was a damned reason because it felt like a curse on my heart) I was convinced, I believed with every fiber of my cracked little heart that we would be reconciled.  Even though he told me straight out he wanted nothing to do with me ever again.  Even though he'd told me he'd regretted it all.  Whether it took six months or six years, I didn't care.  I knew in my gut there was a reason I was determined not to give up on him and I trusted that feeling because there was absolutely positively no rational reason for it to exist. 

I'm no dummy.  I may be naive at times or foolish or believe the best of even the most frightening of villains but I know when I've been beat.  I'm not one of those insecure girls who pines for a guy who doesn't want her. 
I deserve so much better than that.
So why, oh why oh my oh my, did I even want to be friends with this nemesis?
What did he have to offer me? 
Absolutely nothing.
Did he make me feel good when I was around him?
Everything but.

So why did I have this nagging at my heart that forced me, almost against my own will, to continue believing in this child of a man?

Sometimes God puts pretty crazy things on our hearts.
And no, I'm not trying to use God to justify my own will.
My will wants to never see the douchefuck again.

Did ya hear that Big G?
Never. Again.
Adios!
Sianara.
Ciao you man with more personalities than I have dresses!

I no longer luff him.
Not even with two F's.

So I know.  I know that I know that I know that this stubborn belief in the good in him is outside of myself because I don't wanna believe in him!  Do you know what I wrote to him when I did all those months ago?  I wrote him that even though I'd heard all about the hateful things he continued to say about me and even though I knew he went out of his way to cause me pain  I still believed in the amazing man that he is.

Gah!
Yuck.
Vomit on my new fabulous Via Spiga shoes.

Scratch that.
I love those.

And no, he never wrote me back.
What could he say?

Gee, Reese.  Thanks for always being so consistently loving.  Especially in contrast to how I'm consistently an asshole.

No man is that amazing.
And if he is?
THAT'S the man swag enough to snatch me up.

Because I deserve an honest, consistent, loving, different kind of man.
The rest of you only make great fodder for my blog and future best sellers.

Which I do appreciate.
So thank you for your mediocrity.


So now?
Truth be told?
I don't want my reconciliation anymore.
I mean, it feels moot.
I've moved on.
I've loved another.
I've had a whole fairytale and fairynightmare since then.
Mr. Volcano is merely a spot on the Monet that is my love life.

And yet there was a moment today when I looked out the window at these trees and the sun breaking through one of them.  And I smiled remembering to remember him. 
And I thought, wouldn't it be something if I'd been right along?
If he did enter stage left back into my life again?

And I got my reconciliation after all?

We do get the things we want when we no longer need them.

Nah, I casually told the Big G.
You have someone much better in store.

But a little smile crept across the corner of my mouth in spite of me.

I do still believe in him.

And being wrong about that?
Well.
It still won't stop me from praying for him and sending him love and light when he does cross my mind.

Mix that with your stevia and choke on it.
For the second time.

Remembering to forget

You know how there are some things that drive you crazy but then when they're gone, you miss them? 
Or when missing someone drives you crazy and then one day you realize you forgot to miss them.
And that somehow makes you sad.

It's funny, right?

Why do we always say things are funny when they're something else altogether?

I think sometimes when things happen to us we think they are more than a part of us, but that they somehow are us.  Things happen, days pass, people enter, they exit, some linger in our thoughts long after they've left us.  And we're paralyzed and unable to step forward.
Falling that far again might break us.

And then we open the door and step out of our little caves and move on.
And in some instances, moving far enough ahead to leave the past where it waits feels daunting.
And then memory creeps up when our heads are turned and steals a piece of yesteryear. 
And the truth is we didn't know it was missing right away.
It took awhile.
And knowing it is no more is both comforting and disheartening.

Change is hard.
It's exciting.  And new.  And filled with uncertainties. 
And there is rarely anyone there to hold your hand.
Physically.

But forgetting the past, no longer remembering the former things but being able to look ahead to what is and is to come, is the only way to be.
We go forward toward the prize that is awaiting us up ahead.
And hope somehow that the demons have left us, the scars have healed in spite of us,
and a small part of all that was good is still with us.

That is my hope.

The bee's knees

Do you ever have those times when you wonder, if I'd only made that light instead of caught it when it turned red?  Or if I'd chosen the grocery line where the register didn't freeze in the middle of the transaction, how different would this day be?

It's like in Stranger than Fiction or Run Lola Run, this idea of altering events by changing our timing, by changing our course.  Most of the time I think we wonder why we were delayed thinking the better outcomes would be the times we made the lights or got through the lines faster or were able to take our usual exits.

I had one of those experiences this evening.  I was driving home from work and for some reason, even though traffic should have long cleared, cars were backed up alongside the exit I normally take to head home.  So instead I took the next exit and planned on using the back roads to make it to Grandma's.  As I was taking the exit I saw the Shell station and remembered my you better fill this up with gas, lady! light was on.  Thank you Big G for guiding my path to align with a gas station that literally, physically, was on my way home.  And I was in a flurry because I needed to get home to grab gym clothes so I could make it to my
classes. 

So I pulled into the gas station and everyone, I mean everyone decided their cars were thirsty at the same time.  I wasn't mad.  I've learned enough through many fabulous blunders on my part that what is to be shall be and what isn't is for my own good.  Whether I agree or not.  So I sat there, with an unfathomable patience, something my fatigue and distracting trail mix may have assisted with, and waited my turn.  There were only two gas pump jockey's. (Yes, I know no one calls them that anymore but I think if it's good enough for Lauren Bacall, it's good enough for me.  And who doesn't want their job sounding more glamorous?)  And the gal who was working the lane I was waiting in was running back and forth, from car to car.  And looked cold.  And I saw one gentleman (let me rephrase, one ass monkey) get out of his car and obviously say something flippant to the gas pump jockey which looked something along the lines of, You ain't movin' fast enough, slacker, I ain't waitin' no more, I'm payin' inside! 
And suddenly I had this overwhelming desire to do something for her.

I reached into the side pocket of my door and was grateful I found one.  When she came to my window and I gave her my Visa I also gave her a service recovery coupon from Starbucks. (That's fancy talk for free drink coupon).  Here, I said, get yourself a free coffee from Starbucks.  Thank you for working so hard.  And she thanked me and continued bouncing from car to car like she fell out of the game Pong.  When she came back to hand me my receipt she thanked me again and you could visibly see how the one simple act of love had brightened her spirits.  And as I was pulling out the cars continued pulling in and I assumed it would stay that busy for an annoying length of time but something told me the gas pump jockey would handle herself just fine.

That's why I couldn't take my exit, I thought.  Maybe it didn't really matter for me which route I took home.  But having the opportunity to bless that stranger may have been something she really needed.  Sometimes when someone I don't know says something kind or does something loving it almost fills a greater hole than when a loved one does.  And maybe I was able to fill some tiny hole in her heart that moment. 

Wouldn't that be swell?

Lest you begin dry heaving with my Hallmark sentiments, let me clarify something.  I'm no Mother Teresa.  (And yes, right now that is a double entendre.  Small people frighten me.  Babies especially.  Not for Resa's.  At least, not anytime soon.)  I don't think I'm some magnanimous person just because I gave something to someone else.  But my point simply is that I could have sat there in my car in a huff, pissed about missing part of Pilates, annoyed with the tortoise pace of the gas pump jockeys, working myself into a great big tizzy so that when I talked to that gal I was just another rude customer.  Her life wouldn't be made any richer, mine would be festering under a cloud of negativity I'd created and it would seem there was no reason I had to miss my exit.  Dammit.

But I want to live a life with purpose.  One that has meaning and value and changes people.  I've had several people in my training classes find me at random times in random places and talk to me like they're my new best friend and they just think I'm the bee's knees.  Tonight when the Zumba teacher was late I even jumped on the box at the front of the room and announced to the 40 something strangers that I recently got hired at Clininque if they ever want to visit me and that we have a gift coming up in a couple weeks if they want to presale.  One of the gals I know just laughed at me when I hopped down.  And the truth is you either love me or you hate me.  I think when you have a personality as strong as mine it's really hard to not leave an impression.  And what lasting impressions are ever, Oh yeah, I don't know, I mean, whatever.  I don't really have an opinion?

I'm sure there is no one that has met me that would say that.
And if they do exist I'd love to meet them.
Because surely they only thought they met me.
Because folks that meet this lady always have an opinion.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen

Getting hired at Nordstrom was a miracle.

I'm sure a lot of people will never understand this as so many subscribe occurrences with the ever elusive Fate.  Or As luck would have it.  Or just random happenstance.

But let me tell you.....
Getting this wonderful job ain't no accident.

First of all, I worked for Nordstrom briefly six years ago.  Since then?  I have interviewed for five different departments at three different locations.  No. One. Wanted. Me.

Second of all, not to get into specific figures, and certainly how stellar my rockstar sales will be will have some influence on my rate but regardless, I am making almost double what I was making at my last job.  Holy Roley Majoley Boly!  This is more than I've ever made.  I feel like such a grownup.  I could even afford rent if I lived on my own.
Who knew that was possible.

Third of all, I only found out about the job because of Facebook.  A Facebook friend posted about looking for new Clinique talent.  And this Facebook friend also happens to be the counter manager.  And the only reason I know her is because we worked together at Macy's five years ago.  And the only reason I worked at Macy's was because I left Nordstrom.  And I left Nordstrom because I thought my manager at the time was a raving nutbar.  PS That nutbar left Nordstrom three months after I did because she needed to check into nutbar rehab.  And I don't know how Fate is so damn clever, but my Macy's manager was somehow a bigger wackadoo than my Nordstrom one.  So I didn't stay long there either.  Hardy har har har.  So damn hillarious.

It's like some foreign film or modern play, isn't it?  Like, all that time it was right in front of me but I was too blind to see it so I walked in circles for years instead.  Part of me wonders if I will now stay with Nordstrom for the rest of my working years and make a fabulous career of it.  As of right now, I have every intention of doing just that.  And so, I have to wonder if I was never meant to leave it all those years ago.  I did make a rash choice, out of emotion, and I know back then I was a selfish, immature little girl.  (I'd like to believe I'm now a predominantly selfless, mostly mature woman, thank you). 

But then I thought about ALL of the jobs I've had over the last six years.  And ALL of the people I've met because of it.  I never would have worked at Linktech.  Or The Limited.  Or Victoria's Secret.  Or Hallmark.  Or been a receptionist.  I never would have gone back to Starbucks.  Again.  And again.  AND again.  And....cough......yet again.  And I would have lost all of those wonderful and horrible and fantastic and sometimes heart wrenching but mostly kindred spirits I gained through those years. 

And I have to say, I think all the floundering and uncertainty was worth it. 
Just to have all that. 
And all of them.

I've had a lot of fun.
Even amidst my bone head choices.
And something tells me all I've learned through them is gonna make me an even more kick ass sales girl.

So, after the last couple days, filled with awe and wonder over this new exciting portion of my life, after feeling so thankful and trusting that surely God can toss even the mightiest of mountains in the sea, tonight I remembered how quickly I can become a She of little faith.

The dance studio I've been addicted to is holding auditions for its dance troupe in less than two weeks.  And I want to be on that team as much as I wanted the job at Nordstrom.  And because my hiring process was so whirlwind and the schedule was already done before I met with the manager, I'm fairly certain I won't be able to attend the audition.  I also found out tonight that they are only casting five girls for the team.  F-I-V-E.  One of the instructors at the studio is the team captain's roommate and a stellar dancer who is auditioning so something tells me one of the spots will go to her.  That leaves four.  And these auditions are not just for the small world of Diva Den.  They have put ads out on the Oregonian.  And Facebook.  And CRAIGSLIST. 

Oy.

And within an hour, just one teensy, tiny, wee little hour, my faith and confidence in believing I'd earn a spot on the team if it was meant to be went right out the window.

I can't believe I'm even saying this but I actually had the thought, Maybe I shouldn't even bother auditioning.

SAY WHAAAAAAAT??!!

Did I or did I not just land my dream job doing something I've wanted to get back into ever since I left, getting paid more than I've ever made in my life to do what I do best, what I do every day?  And now, suddenly, because of some asinine details I think that it will be impossible for me to get something else I also want so very much?

I felt ashamed for having such weak faith.  But it was also a good reminder that we can't take anything for granted.  Not even our convictions or our trust within ourself.  We will always have the temptation to feel dissatisfied.  We will always want more. 

I found the most exquisite handbag during my lunch break and let myself buy it my first day because with my discount and the gift certificate I had it was very inexpensive.  And I told myself that would be my one treat.  Then I walked over to the shoe department and found pink and white saddle shoes.  I have wanted saddle shoes for --I can't tell you how long--and to find them in PINK! felt like it was a small miracle from heaven.  Obviously God prompted some shoe maker to handcraft those beauties just. for. me. 

And yes, it's a silly example.  It's fashion and of course we all always want something new and sparkly.  But we can also train ourselves to be satisfied.  To trust if it's for us, it will still be there tomorrow.  If I'm to be on that team there could be a million girls auditioning and I'd still be one of the four to make it.  There could be only ten and if it wasn't in my cards I wouldn't make it. 

Why do we think if we can control the stakes we can control the outcome?
WE CAN'T CONTROL ANYTHING!

So my humbling conclusion?
Don't take things for granted. 
And remember to appreciate all that you do have.
And trust if there's something you don't have that you should, you will surely get it.
I have.
And I somehow all too quickly forgot.


Writer's Note: This was written yesterday.  Today I found a girl to switch with me and don't have to work the day of the audition.  I. Get. To. Go. And they said mountains can't move.

New Book

Someone told me once when they lost their job they were getting a new chapter.

I've decided for me after all I've endured, after how far I've made it, this new job is not merely a new chapter, its a new book.

I didn't even realize how greatly I needed the chance for a fresh start until I heard the woman on the phone say she was calling to offer me the job.  I nearly started crying.  Yes, that sounds dramatic and maybe my hormones were partially responsible but I think it was more than that. 
It was like hearing someone tell me I could take a breath and I hadn't even realized I was holding it.

Release.  Relief.  Freedom.

Its sad now but I know a year from now it will have morphed into comedy.  But the thing is, all of my heartache over the last year was tied up in Starbucks.  ALL OF IT.  There were two players, yes, but we all worked for The Bucks.  And we all knew each other.  Too much of each other.  All the gossipers, slanderers, minions and mongrels also worked for Starbucks.  There were times one of the cast would make an unwelcome appearance at my store or I'd have to pick up product at their store or my personal favorite, siblings of the one I thought I'd never see again got hired next store and started coming in every morning.  And yes, they TOO also worked for starbucks.

See?  It's funny, right? 
Like, gee, Reese.  Could you really not get any more creative than just invest in the drama that is Coffee World?  Couldn't you mix it up a bit and include folks who, say, I don't know, aren't affiliated with Starbucks?
Apparently not.
It's on par with only dating actors and jumping from guy to guy as one show closes and another opens.  We call those Showmances.  Those excessively in show related relationships are dubbed Showmance Whores.  I guess that makes me a Starbucksance Slut.
At least I get creative with my pet names.

So now I get to step into a world so untouched by my past that no one is going to know the names of the players.  No one will bring up their roles in my past.  They won't even know how they liked their Iced Coffee.  My past will be just that.  And a new cast of characters means a new plot will unfold.

A new saga awaits me!
And I'm so bubbling over with joy I'm simply whelmed.
You can be overwhelmed.
You can be underwhelmed.
But in those rare blissful moments of content there is whelmed.
There is Teresa Renee.