I am creating a new single divorced girl business rule. All business lunches with charming men will be now be held on Fridays! You have a glass of wine, hopefully share a couple of laughs, talk a little business turkey and then later once you get home, you don't care if you go out...because you feel like you have been out! Happened yesterday to me.
A couple weeks ago, I briefly met an interesting potential business contact at a gathering of unique businesspeople, and as is my style, I called to arrange a follow up meeting. He suggested lunch at a restaurant on Park Ave in NYC. There wasn't much conversation in between, and I was only interested in discussing business.
I was all bundled up in layers when I arrived and spotted him waiting at the bar. A warm hello and then he offered to take my coat for me. Okay, then I love chivalry. He patiently and gallantly waited while I took off layer after layer, my coat and hat and scarf, and whisked them away to safety.
Guess what? Like Madonna, I am stumbling, shaking, smashing, and dancing my way through the effects of my divorce. From the interviews I've read, she's not having an easy time of it.
Even though it seems she'll hang onto most of her cool hundreds of millions, someone recently told me that prosperity isn't how much money you have, but how "well off" you feel. Honestly, if that's the case, then I'm rich!
The holidays can be a crazy time. Self-sacrifice and stress can lead to negative emotions, and leave you feeling vulnerable and tired. People like Madonna keep their heads screwed on straight by staying creative and expressive. They always remember to make time for themselves, because if you're not good to yourself, then you won't be good for anyone else.
This month, Madonna's on tour with her band. She says that keeps her from feeling too sorry for herself and all the messy divorce proceedings.
My band's on break this fall, because my keyboard player just had throat surgery and is on vocal rest. So the only tour I'm going to do right now is the one I'm taking with my kids on Thanksgiving.
Yesterday was the first day of school. It is my thirteenth, as a teacher. One would think first day would have become commonplace by now, but it still makes me fluttery and nervous and excited. It's still, after all this time, The First Day.
It's also an anniversary, of sorts: The first day of school is what finally made me ask for something to change in our marriage.
Jake used to take me out to dinner the night before the first day. As a teacher, this is one of my Big Days: The First Day, Graduation, Opening Night. Having someone at my side, recognizing their importance, meant something.
Jake had been spending more and more time in China. Eventually, he missed one of my productions. He started missing my birthday. I realized he hadn't been to a graduation in years.
First thing you learn, at least the first thing I learned, about being a single mom: it’s hard, almost impossible. I signed the lease for my new apartment on my 10th wedding anniversary. Let’s just say I’m a deadline-driven kind of girl, and after years of thinking “I can be broke, and alone all by myself,” it hit me, my deadline was 10 years. I had to get out.
That was two years ago. At the time, my daughters were 4 ½ and 21-months, and PBS had just aired a documentary called “P.O.V – Waging a Living.” The film looked at four people, three of them single moms, all working full-time and none making enough to make ends meet.
How’s that for a timely glance into the crystal ball?
One by one their stories debunked the American Dream, which is work hard and you’ll get ahead. One-quarter of the adult workers in this country have dead-end jobs paying less than the federal poverty level for a family of four. That’s 30 million people.
When the pressure of work, family drama, and troubled marriage overwhelm, I fantasize about leaving town, changing my name, and dropping off the grid for a small but self-sufficient life in the southwestern desert. I don't have much money of my own, but then I don't imagine needing much.
A beat up truck, a dog as companion, and a cozy adobe cottage — that's all I'll need. A pressure-free job at a local dive would pay the bills. I'll be perfectly content writing, exploring desert canyons, and kicking back with a few new friends over beer on rusty porch chairs. No father with Alzheimer's disease to worry about, no student loans to pay, no ambitious career or lifestyle plans in a fast-paced, high-priced northeastern city to frustrate the calm.
Such is my escape fantasy. Do we all have one? Do some people act on them? Are they the brave or crazy among us? I suppose that depends on how troubled their lives were, on how likely they could heal or remain safe, staying put.
My classes started a few days ago and I was pleasantly surprised. All of this time I've been thinking — or rather, stressing out — that I may have gotten in over my head. "Taking 12 credits over the summer is highly ambitious," said the advisor. "Are you sure you're going to be able to fit it all in?" she asked.
I have a tendency to do that. I get excited about something and really overload myself. I like to get a jump on things. I like to finish first.
These classes are going to be relatively easy, though. The professors are really great, the coursework is interesting to me, and now, I'm really excited.
I was talking to a new friend about Adrian yesterday. I told her how looking back, I don't know how I've done what I've done so far.
As if I didn't have enough going on already, I decided to add more to my plate. Something major.
I've decided to go to school. I've wanted to learn cinematography and film production for quite some time, and now I'm finally going to do it.
I stumbled across the program a few months ago while doing some research on the Internet. Of course, like anything of its kind, it's pretty expensive. However, they had some information on the site pertaining to grants and other sources of financial aid so I decided to go for it, and I applied.
