CH-ch-ch-ch-changes...
Useless. Today I am useless. I leave on Monday morning for the most exciting trip I have taken in a long time and I am so excited about that, that I have no business trying to string together coherent sentences in order to train new employees of my company, so I’m just not. I am wrapping up last minute things that need to be done next week and in doing so I noticed how many little details have to be taken care of just to be able to leave. As I was doing that I thought about what ifs; you know ‘What if I just died and didn’t have time to get the little things ready?’ or ‘What if I got fired and no one knew what needed to be done?’ Now, while I have never died, I have been fabulously fired from a good job before, and I know for a fact that what happens is your friend who still works there has to pick up your slack, and they try to unravel all the things you did wrong, or didn’t know to do at all. When I say fabulously fired, I mean it. FAB-U-LOUS-LY fired. I digress.
My point is this, why do we feel like if all the tiny little things don’t get done, the world will cease to rotate and all matter we know and love will go spinning off into the stratosphere? I am in the middle of a fairly big ‘task’ at work. I am paranoid that in my absence, it will be ruined. I know it won’t. There are capable people who will be handling questions, and fielding concerns from all parties involved. But I still worry. I am smack dab in the middle of rehearsals for a play as well. My understudy will be at practice all next week, the show will, literally, go on. But here I am, script in hand and concerned that the play will suffer without me.
The ego it requires to have these concerns amazes me. I try to bear in mind that, in everything, my part is just a small role, whether it is in my work organization, or my family, or my play. The removal of me from any of those institutions will not cause them to cease to exist. It just changes the dynamic, and I wonder if that’s what we all really fear- changes. We work tirelessly to make everything ready before we go, so that it can all be the same when we return. What is it about change we all fear so much?
I have no answer for this, and I’m okay with that. I know that generally, I love the spontaneity that change brings, and as much as I hate to use this phrase, when I was younger change was not so scary. So what were the changes that seemed… exciting? The ones that brought the promise of good to come? Today’s Top Five- Top Five Scary Changes in My Life That Have Brought Good Things. Random, I know, but I need to reflect, harness my thoughts and center my chi. So here we go:
- Changing Grades and Schools- New pencils, and folders, and Trapper Keeper Notebooks. Several new sets of new school clothes, and if I was lucky, at least one pair of ‘name brand’ jeans, if we could find them at Rich’s Finale at Greenbrier mall for 75% off. And yes, it was scary to go to a new grade, or a new school, but you knew it meant you were so much closer to being grown. I had a saying when I was younger, and thought I would leave on the first bus out of Smalltown, USA, that “I would get grown and gone”. Each new grade took me closer to that, and I was good with that.
- Changing the Status of My Virginity- I was too young. Maybe. But I was forward and direct and I knew what I wanted and when I wanted it, and luckily, teen-aged boys seldom argue when a cute teenaged girl makes the advances. SO I was able to make that change with little fanfare, and just an adequate amount of worship from the boy who was the recipient of said advances. He was shy, and sweet and quiet and TALL, and I loved that I always felt small next to him, even though I was 5’7”. He was the perfect person at the perfect time, and he made that change seem normal.
- Changing Cities- I did not get grown and gone. I got grown some and gone just a little bit. I went to college in a town very near mine, but I was far enough away that it seemed to be a big change. I was on my own, and could stay out as late as I wanted. I could invite over whoever I wanted, and they could stay as long as I wanted, and generally, my most favorite things about that time in my life ended with the phrase “that I wanted”. It was a selfish time. A change that suddenly made me the most important person in my life. I have never been able to have that freedom again, but while I did have it, I loved it. I had boyfriends, and lovers, and made trips, and went to concerts and drank, and smoked, and was generally debaucherous. It was MAGNIFICENT!!!
- Changing the Body through Childbirth- Well, let’s just say this was not an intentional change. I did not intend to become the hot chick trapped in a formerly hot chick’s body. I’m softer now, with curves a little more accentuated than I like, but not too much. But when you have 9 lbs of wriggling squirming yelling mass shoot out of you, and you have spent nine months making room for it, the hot chick’s body becomes the formerly hot chick’s body. I am okay with that now, because I am happy with my life and my sweet babies. I am happy with the hunky Ph who thinks I am the hot chick still. I am happy with the fact that he’s not the only one who notices, but he’s the only one I notice.
- Changing the Nature of the Relationship- Once upon a time, I had a friend. He was sweet and funny. Our fathers worked together. He was goofy looking with curly, curly brown hair and big ears growing up, and never called me by my proper name. We rode bikes when we were 10 and 12, and treated each other like siblings. Boys were icky, and girls were gross. We never went to the same school, and as we got older, we stopped being friends. After college mistakes, and Army mistakes, our fathers found both of us recently un-engaged and moping about our respective houses. As sad as it sounds my dad asked his dad to tell him to call me and ask me out. And being the funny sweet friend I used to have, he did. I decided to meet him at his apartment for our first date, as I didn’t want to be stuck on some lame date with some goofy looking guy, just waiting to go home. As I rang the bell, I cursed my dad, and hoped for the best. When the door opened, I looked into a shocked face- one almost as shocked as mine was. You see, as a little girl with red hair and freckles and pudgy legs, I left an impression that was less than enticing. But that night, I stood there, all 5’7” of me, with a pre-baby, sexy hourglass shape, wearing cute jeans a regular sweater looking at all 6’1” of a muscled dark curly haired man with ears just right for his head, and a smile that could have melted my clothes off. And he was my friend. Over the next year we hung out and boycotted Valentines Day (and ended up in bed for the first time as a result) and in general enjoyed being with one another. It was the only time I was glad that I made a friend a lover. And although it ended, sadly, with bad timing, he will always be the most special not boyfriend I ever had.
This is the most I have talked about me in a long time, so forgive me, please. Vacation seems to have me pleasing me already. Feel free to tell me about a change you’ve had. I really do like to listen.
