(two times, two times)

A song can be the best time machine ever. Instantly whisk a girl back to a time, long forgotten.

Killing Me Softly is playing on the radio. The Lauryn Hill version. That I vividly remember from my New York days, the days when I earnestly entered Corporate America complete with my M.B.A.. The nostalgia that coursed through my veins surprised me. The longing to be back in my Manhattan days with today's knowledge. To be fear free. To have shaken the timid college girl free. To have the opportunity to have the Me now in the shoes of the Me then.

But by the same token, I am glad that I found that I could express myself (sometimes maybe too much) here in Austin. Here in the heart of Texas during my thirties. To be safe and secure enough to fly the flag that is me. The good. The bad. The ugly. The fabulous shoes.

Here in Austin, over the course of almost four years, I have learned to be myself again. My true self. I have learned to be 100% okay with myself for who I am down to my very core. The fancy shoes. Dressing to the nines. But at the end of the day being true to myself. And that is all that matters. I have found myself after being dreadfully lost during my married years. Forgetting about the small shards that are essential in making me me. Above all else, knowing that no one else like me will ever walk this earth again. And I stayed true to that drummer who's beat I faithfully follow. Even through the darkness.

While this past year has been filled with an awful lot of downs, challenges, and obstacles, I made it through. I made it closer to being in synch with my true self. Honestly, this year, I lost friends over my work schedule and various perceptions. It has been tough. Sadly, I know that 2011 will commence with awkward friend-loss dynamics coming into play. But somehow the phoenix part of my Scorpio nature reminds me that sometimes death is required before rebirth can occur. And I am a-okay with that!

The best is yet to come!

easy for you to say

Last night I indulged in the movie, Love and Other Disasters. It is a Brittany Murphy where she plays Emily 'Jacks' Jackson who is a Brit that works at Vogue U.K. A very cute little flick. But when Jacks was speaking to her gay best friend, Peter Simon about love, their exchange struck a chord with me:

Jacks: Stop living your life like you're in some kind of movie.



Peter: Excuse me?


Jacks: Stop trying to cast your love instead of just meeting him.


Peter: When I meet him, I'll know.


Jacks: I'm not so sure. Love isn't always a lightning bolt, you know? Maybe sometimes it's just a choice.


Peter: Well, that's easy for you to say! You're flying to Argentina to meet the love of your life!


Jacks: That's just it. I don't know that Paolo's the love of my life, but I've decided to give him the chance to be. Maybe true love is a decision. You know, a decision to take a chance with somebody. To give to somebody. Without worrying whether they'll give anything back. Or if they're gonna hurt you, or if they really are the one. Maybe love isn't something that happens to you. Maybe it's something you have to choose.


Peter: So what do I do?


Jacks: Well, you could start by putting all of those fantasies of true love where they belong, into your work of fiction.

The fantasy of love versus love's reality. Truly a view to be pondered. How many times do I dream and ask for the happily ever after, to ride off into the sunset with Prince Charming? But, honestly, love is a choice. While there might be lightening bolts on certain occasions, ultimately I have to make a choice to let love back in.
 
Lately I have been wondering about when exactly, I chose to push love out. I made that decision somewhere during and between The Leech and Montana Man. Hell, why call it a decision; I shut down completely.
 
But the problem is that since I successfully accomplished the mission of locking down and securing the perimeter many years ago, re-opening the town for business is difficult. I am so weary and disinterested. The girl who would go on a date with anyone one time isn't bouncing right back. Need to get myself open and willing again. Yes, I need to make a new choice. A choice to be loved.

unlisted

Last week, I received a weird voice mail on both my office and mobile phones. It was an unsolicited call from a man who explained that he works for a large company and would like to speak to me about networking. Networking?! Seriously? Like any skeptical girl, I ignored the calls. In fact, I was rather disturbed that he had both my office and mobile number since neither is widely available.

Today, I received another round of inquiries from this man. As I was at my desk rushing to leave for an off-site meeting, I answered my desk phone. I hastily agreed to speak with him tomorrow. Later when I listened to my mobile messages, he stated that he would like to speak about my background and employment opportunities with his company. Aha! So that is the point of tomorrow's call.

However, I remain slightly confused as I have not actively searched for a job outside of my company for twelve years. How this man stumbled upon my details baffles me and will certainly be one of my first questions. I am quite flattered though at the fact that I am actually being recruited. Especially now, at a time when so many people are vying for jobs.

It may be nothing. It may be the start of something new and exciting.

it's all the rage

Traveling, whether for business or pleasure, has always been a part of my life. My parents forced me to camp. Every other year, our family unit went to the Big Apple to see my father's family. I vividly remember the non-stop flights from Denver to New York - we typically flew TWA and the smokers would be huddled in the boot of the plane veiled in a cloud of smoke as I tried to make my way to the loo. I also remember my brother puking on those flights too. Of course, any transportation that moved combined with his propensity to overeat led to a childhood flowing with vomit.

But my brother, the puker has nothing to do with what I am struggling with now. These days I am dealing with a hound dog suffering from severe separation anxiety. You see, my dear Lulu returned from her fall kennel visits with this over-the-top anxiety issue. I brought a healthy hound to the doggie day spa and they returned a nervous wreck who shakes at the mere thought I might leave the room. Of course the doggie day spa claims nothing happened while under their care.... umm, yeah, right, I am so believing their convincing performance. Lulu has been kenneled on a regular basis since I adopted her because mommy must travel! We have never had any kennel mishaps until arriving in Texas. Something is definitely rotten in the outskirts of Austin.

Needless to say, Lulu had to see to a second vet to determine what to do. The answer? Prozac. Yes, my little Nervous Nellie is officially on anti-depressants. Giggling every step of the way, I took the canine prescription to Wally World where the pharmacist informed me that I'd "be surprised by how many Austin dogs are on Prozac." Sadly, much like in humans, it takes awhile for the levels to build, which means that I still have a ball of unbridled nerves on my hands. Each day I pray faithfully to the Prozac gods that today will be the day that relief comes. Not so much for the dog, mind you, but for me because I live in terror of what Lulu might do to herself while not under adult supervision. I can only drink so much wine to calm my nerves.

I now plan my schedule around the dog. However, I am not pleased at that, but I do love her. As Lulu's ninth birthday nears, she is trying my last nerve. I truly wish she would just muster up the words to tell me what bad thing happened while mommy was gallivanting in strange lands. Hopefully the Prozac kicks in soon or I might be forced to promise The Dog Whisper anything he wants. And in my desperate state, Cesar will get all that he wants. No questions asked.

yea, though i walk along the ridge

I walk along a narrow, winding ridge in the valley of men. Super Dad continues to keep me company along the way. He is super sweet and genuinely cares about me. Honestly, if it wasn't for his mystery illness, I would be there with him. 100%. But until Super Dad can get back to leading a normal, fully engaged life, I cannot commit myself. I must be true to me. I must continue my active life and I need a partner that can take life head-on with me.

I haven't been able to disengage with Super Dad because I keep believing this mystery illness is temporary. That it is simply a matter of finding the right doctor because the cause is so easy to diagnose. Why must the cure be so elusive? I don't know if I am doing either of us more harm than good.

Lately Super Dad has been throwing in marriage comments into random parts of our conversations. A simple example of a day when I am not into playing along:
Patsy:  I had the day from hell. People are stupid.
Super Dad:  You can't solve the world's problems, honey, but you should seriously consider marrying me.
Patsy:  *blinks at phone* What does that have to do with anything?
Super Dad:  Everything. You should seriously consider marrying me.

I have been rather baffled at the frequency of this "marry me" chatter. It feels so abrupt. Almost in the vein of "marry me because I am going to die in six months". But I know Super Dad's problem is not fatal. Inconvenient, yes. A complete and utter annoying pain, literally and figuratively.

The next time Super Dad broaches the big "m" word, I am going to inquire as to the root of this obsession. I should stop trying to read between the lines and just find out the answer. My balance is good, my feet are stable along the ridge. I will inquire about what drives certain topic in the valley of men.

spanks of success

I have always know that I am a blessed/lucky woman. For the most part, I have my act together. I can dress myself, have a good eye for color, know what looks best on my curvy figure. There is a brain ticking away upstairs and I possess a good sense of humor. However, what I view as the most important facet of being me is that I am humble.

Life-sucking vampire project is complete. I successfully finished it, even though there were moments I thought it might slay me. I won the well-deserved laurel wreath. As a result of my success, I was given a new position, which was a promotion (although I did not receive any monetary raise that one would think normally comes with a promotion). I was completely thrilled to receive this new opportunity and there are times I catch myself thinking it is dream. However, until this week, I did not realize the colossalness of my new job. It is an entry level executive position of sorts. People have been congratulating me with caveats along the lines of "I have to be super nice to you now because you're important". Me? Little old me. I continue to have a difficult time with those comments.

Every day I pull on my spanks to keep everything in place and slip my dress on over my head, the same as everyone else. The learning curve is significantly steeper than I anticipated. Frustration is running deep and fast because I feel lost. I am constantly reminding myself that I felt the exact same frustration when I started the life-sucking vampire project. This too shall pass, Patsy. I want to be stellar, have happy customers.

I am no one special. I am simply a girl with an unwavering drive to succeed. High hopes for making the new gig as shining super star success like the life-sucking vampire project (with no life sucking this time!).