You guys, I’ve started to take writing a book seriously.
Okay, so maybe it’s starting to resemble more of a collection of personal essays than an actual book but still, it’s some stuff I’ve written and there’s more than two pages. I have a prologue, one solid chapter and some promising starts for others. Needless to say, I’ve been giving myself a lot of congratulatory pats on the back lately. Let’s just ignore the fact that I started this process almost a decade ago. All good things take time or whatever.
I started by drafting a working timeline featuring all of the curious situations I’ve found myself in and weird stuff that has happened to me in the 34 years since I entered this world. It’s shockingly long for being a list of shorthand notations and hand drawn emojis. Some of the highlights so far:
Moved in with guy from MySpace
Used my fake ID to adopt dog from shelter while living in a college dormitory
Odd jobs: roller rink DJ
Drinking a beer at 8am with Larry the Cable Guy
While I would love to go into details, you’re not exactly gonna buy the cow if I give the milk away for free, and I hope that you all by my book someday. I’ve got mouths to feed (and two of those mouths are over 1000 pounds.)
I’ve also dusted off some old hard drives, started reading early blog posts, skimming past journal entries and looking through old photo folders for inspiration, fact checking and mostly because my mind is failing me and I need to be reminded of certain things. Like the time I spent a summer with a comb over because I fought some girl at a beer tent and she ripped my hair out by its roots. How someone forgets that I’m not even sure. I’ve stopped asking why my brain is the way it is and just accepted the fact that I can remember the quadratic equation from my sophomore year of high school but can never remember that I’ve put a load of laundry in the washing machine until it’s been in there long enough that it warrants being washed again.
Well, I found something that I just had to share with you.
I’m pretty sure I could find a way to include it in my impending memoirs (disclaimer: I still might, so feel free to skip over that chapter when it comes time) but it’s too perfect of an addendum to my post about listening to the universe (even if its speaking through a bedazzled graphic t.) And who doesn’t love a good sequel.
Let’s set the scene.
I started blogging ten years ago, at a time when performing wasn’t an active part of my life. I was teaching dance but it had been seven years since I set foot on stage to do anything other than rehearse my students during recital season.
I should clarify I wasn’t all that put out by this. While I’ve always loved to dance, dreamt of making it a career, and found teaching to be incredibly rewarding, performing was a struggle. Still is some days, though much less frequently. In my experience the depressive side of bipolar can be quite debilitating because it manifests as overwhelming feelings of insecurity and a dangerously negative image of myself. Thinking of yourself as a failure in everything you do kind of makes smiling and dancing with confidence difficult.
In 2010 I was content doing menial administrative work, self-medicating with vodka tonics and Busch Light and starting Someone Put Rum In My Milkshake. It was in 2010 that I went out for a friends birthday and found myself in the audience at an epic drag show. And it was in 2010 that I penned the following for one of my initial blog posts:
“I am a huge supporter of the arts, even if that art is a man who puts me to shame in a miniskirt. And I have a long history with performing and sequins. I can’t help but feeling oddly jealous of this group of men, and for more than their gorgeous weaves. I am in desperate need of a creative outlet that allows me to dance around on stage in a costume fit for ‘Dancing With The Stars’ while lip syncing show tunes and pop hits….I am long past the years of pursuing dance as a professional career...but damn it, I wanna shake what my mama gave me and I wanna do while wearing a ridiculous headdress and rhinestone tights.’”
I wouldn’t come out of retirement for another four years. The timing just wasn’t right and I hadn’t yet figured out how to quiet those inner demons. Timing is everything after all.
But in due time the universe would once again work it’s magic.
Me in costumes fit for ‘Dancing With The Stars.’
Me in a ridiculous headdress.
And me in sequin leggings which if you think about it, is kind of like rhinestone tights. Not really but kind of. While they definitely make rhinestone tights they aren’t at all practical when you have shows six nights a week. Those rhinestones wouldn’t last a week. Cut me and my pipe dream some slack.
The fact that any of what I wished for in that post came true once again confirms our ability to speak things into existence. Good or bad, the universe will return what you put in.
Practice positive affirmations.
Be enthusiastic with your intentions.
Cast a spell.
Whatever it takes.
Not only does the universe speak (remember that t-shirt)...if you’re willing to listen.
But it will listen...if only you’re willing to speak.
Now that that’s out of the way I can focus my attention, intentions, and affirmations on getting a private concert from Darius Rucker.