As rain fell on my windshield this morning on my way in to work, I released an exasperated sigh that was so forceful it left a mark of steam on my driver’s side window. I caught my breath in surprise as the steam from my outburst on the window faded away, much like a fire losing it flame. Yiruma’s beautiful piano piece, River Flows in You, was coming to an end on my stereo as I wondered if my own artistic flame was burning out and my creative ashes were merely becoming a smolder. Over the years, I have lost touch with the creative side of my soul as an obsessive compulsive mother hen took over my body. A younger version of me used to find relaxation and fulfillment in painting or recreating photographs from pencil and charcoal onto paper. As I reminisced about my past talents, I wondered if I could develop a new talent and appreciation for a different art at this point in my life. The sounds of the piano intrigue me. I began to daydream of what it would be like to sit down by the window side in the morning with a cup of coffee on top of my own piano recreating Yiruma’s sounds in my own sitting room with my own hands. I want to create.
My daydreaming was cut short as I swiped my badge to enter the campus where I work. It must have been the gloomy effects of the rain, because I then began to wonder what I would leave behind for my girls when I am no longer physically a part of this world. How nice it would be to have recorded a piece of music they could listen to later on and they might be able to say proudly, “That’s my Mom playing that beautiful song”. I highly doubt my kids will remember me for anything I have accomplished at my job. I don’t create anything. Nor do I publish anything. Sure, there is a YouTube video of me performing a procedure developed here at the NIH, but, that’s the point. It was developed by someone else. Everything I do is merely a recreation of someone else’s creativity or research. I could have created… I want to create.
And then I replayed a scene from my deck last night in my head as I walked into work, umbrella in tow as the rain continued to pour. My oldest was taking pictures with my husband’s new camera and I mentioned to her that it’s nice that she enjoys that and that some people even make hobbies and careers out of photography. But then the evil mother hen with OCD reared her ugly head and quickly backtracked, saying, “But doctors make so much more money”. I would not have realized my blunder if my husband did not jokingly mock me by telling me to let our oldest live her own life. Then in a hysteria of laughter, my daughter pointed at me and said, “Yeah Mom, let me live my own life”. I should have pointed at my own mother and said the very same thing so long ago. I could have created… At 18, I wanted to study architecture. But Mother protested, worried that such a career wouldn’t yield the monetary success and security she so desired for me. Despite detour after detour, I ended up in the safe zone working in the field of Medical Technology, not exactly a creative career. I want to create.
Is it possible that one day I could record a piece of music for my daughters? Yiruma began playing the piano at age 5. Another favorite of mine, Kevin Kern, who performs Sundial Dreams, began playing at 18 months and he is legally blind! At 35, I am skeptical that I could pick up on this talent. Though I am determined to try, time is working against me. But perhaps I’ll look into a weekly lesson and go from there. It’s worth a shot. In the mean time, I am determined to work on leaving a piece of me behind for those which I brought into this world. I have resolved to make the time to go to Michael's and purchase two seperate portfolios, one for each of my children. I will take the time to let my lost talent find its way back for their sake. Yesterday, my husband took a beautiful photograph of our youngest looking thoughtfully out of a window. I’m going to put pencil to paper and recreate this image to perfection because my creative flame still burns. I can create.
Daydreaming Haven
She reignites my flame...
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Another Birthday Bites the Dust
As midnight rolls around, I will add another ring on my tree of life. There has been nothing remarkable about the last 34 rings of my tree. In fact, with the addition of the past 13 rings, I have grown more and more abhorrent of the fact that I am in fact aging. I have tried time and again, to ring in another year of life on a celebratory note because yes, I have much to celebrate… An extremely patient and loving husband, two beautiful children, a trying but rewarding job, my health, my wealth, and always the basics… plentiful food and shelter for myself and my family. So what drove me to this blog you ask?
As I ring in my 35th, I decided I need an outlet – a spot to let my mind speak freely and with a little luck without consequence. A spot to let myself go wandering to ponder what it is and what I am. I think best when I am writing… not when I am speaking and in a sense, I am speaking to myself more so than to the eyes of my reader. Why were there tears in my eyes today as I realized that my 35th would be no better than any other birthday I have ever had?
It’s simple really. I have very high expectations with only a tiny grip on reality.
Rewind… August 25, 1997. The following day was going to be a blast because I was turning 21 and I was in the most beautiful city to celebrate, San Diego, California. I had big plans for the night… hit up the Gaslamp District and dance the night away drinking sangria at what would turn out to be my spot, Café Seville. Sounds good, right? Funny thing is, I don’t remember much about it now and that’s not because I was intoxicated beyond repair either. It’s because I didn’t depend on myself to make it the good time I imagined. I ended up at some bar called Dick’s Last Resort… and it was literally a dick’s last resort. My “friends” weren’t interested in sipping sangria and trying to learn to salsa or meringue. They weren’t interested in the memory I wanted for my day. And so it begins…
To tell the truth, I just don’t remember much about my birthdays at all anymore. Yes, I have a very faulty memory, but I really don’t think that’s why I don’t remember. They just are never significant anymore. I used to have a group of what I thought were very close girlfriends who turned out to not know me at all…. Or better phrased not care at all. How are you going to throw me a party in my own house, leave a hot mess, stick candles for my Tiffany candleholder in a damn cheesecake and call it a good night? Do you not know me at all??? Or even better are the past few years I have spent with friends that I would visit in Ohio. (Mental note… why am I doing the traveling on my birthday to visit friends???) A friend who would turn around and get upset with me for not chauffeuring her around the DMV on an unexpected trip to visit her sister.. Not me! Any who… I have to add that it’s not always “friends” who devastate me on my birthdays; Mother Nature has had her way with me too. Thunderstorms… power outages, you name it!
Fast-forward August 26, 2009… I finally learned my lesson so I thought to just tone it down and not expect too much celebrating. And if you are reading this my dearly beloved, I got to tell you now, I hate ice cream cake! I was wondering that day what you were thinking. I didn’t say anything then, and it’s not really a big deal, but I was kind of sulking that day because while it was sweet, it was more for the kids than it was for me. Darling, I also hate cinnamon, caramel, and rugs with frill. Just FYI.
So now it’s present day 2011. Here I am! 35 and looking pretty damn good I think after two kids decided I would never wear a size 4 ever again. Despite that, I have a super sexy ridiculously overpriced red dress hanging in my closet that somehow manages to make me look like I actually have an ass. It’s fabulous. I was going to dawn that number tomorrow night for my 35th debut at Oya Restaurant and Lounge in DC with a handful of what I thought were great friends… Oh and they got their invite months ago might I add. Long story short… One turned out to be a one-way friendship and another turned out to be…. I can’t even describe. Just selfish. I was told that due to her beliefs, she no longer celebrates birthdays. Wow. Just wow. Then Mother Nature had her way with me again, and knocked another friend out of the equation. It’s just too much to take… hence the tears but then the light!
I’m going to take something from this. One… I’m going to have an outlet that doesn’t have a heart. It’s not right to direct your hurt and anger at an unsuspecting victim, so my new friend, http://supattal.blogspot.com/, will just have to bare the brunt. Two, I am done with unrealistic expectations, especially from unrealistic friends who in reality I kept around because only every now and then something brilliant would come out of their mouth, but really it was just a sad comedy show most of the time. But I am a humanitarian and will let you have your dignity by letting you show your own self to the door. Three… Why after all these years have I been relying on friends to ring in another year with me? To my husband, it’s should have been you, it’s always been you, and it will always be you from now on on my special day… my love and best friend.
Tomorrow, I will go to work and have a productive day. I will pick up my beloved children and spend my birthday with them. And what of my “friends” you ask? I will have a real friend by my side as well who drives on the two-way street of friendship. Not all is lost… ;-)
Also… Eff you Hurricane Irene. That is all.
As I ring in my 35th, I decided I need an outlet – a spot to let my mind speak freely and with a little luck without consequence. A spot to let myself go wandering to ponder what it is and what I am. I think best when I am writing… not when I am speaking and in a sense, I am speaking to myself more so than to the eyes of my reader. Why were there tears in my eyes today as I realized that my 35th would be no better than any other birthday I have ever had?
It’s simple really. I have very high expectations with only a tiny grip on reality.
Rewind… August 25, 1997. The following day was going to be a blast because I was turning 21 and I was in the most beautiful city to celebrate, San Diego, California. I had big plans for the night… hit up the Gaslamp District and dance the night away drinking sangria at what would turn out to be my spot, Café Seville. Sounds good, right? Funny thing is, I don’t remember much about it now and that’s not because I was intoxicated beyond repair either. It’s because I didn’t depend on myself to make it the good time I imagined. I ended up at some bar called Dick’s Last Resort… and it was literally a dick’s last resort. My “friends” weren’t interested in sipping sangria and trying to learn to salsa or meringue. They weren’t interested in the memory I wanted for my day. And so it begins…
To tell the truth, I just don’t remember much about my birthdays at all anymore. Yes, I have a very faulty memory, but I really don’t think that’s why I don’t remember. They just are never significant anymore. I used to have a group of what I thought were very close girlfriends who turned out to not know me at all…. Or better phrased not care at all. How are you going to throw me a party in my own house, leave a hot mess, stick candles for my Tiffany candleholder in a damn cheesecake and call it a good night? Do you not know me at all??? Or even better are the past few years I have spent with friends that I would visit in Ohio. (Mental note… why am I doing the traveling on my birthday to visit friends???) A friend who would turn around and get upset with me for not chauffeuring her around the DMV on an unexpected trip to visit her sister.. Not me! Any who… I have to add that it’s not always “friends” who devastate me on my birthdays; Mother Nature has had her way with me too. Thunderstorms… power outages, you name it!
Fast-forward August 26, 2009… I finally learned my lesson so I thought to just tone it down and not expect too much celebrating. And if you are reading this my dearly beloved, I got to tell you now, I hate ice cream cake! I was wondering that day what you were thinking. I didn’t say anything then, and it’s not really a big deal, but I was kind of sulking that day because while it was sweet, it was more for the kids than it was for me. Darling, I also hate cinnamon, caramel, and rugs with frill. Just FYI.
So now it’s present day 2011. Here I am! 35 and looking pretty damn good I think after two kids decided I would never wear a size 4 ever again. Despite that, I have a super sexy ridiculously overpriced red dress hanging in my closet that somehow manages to make me look like I actually have an ass. It’s fabulous. I was going to dawn that number tomorrow night for my 35th debut at Oya Restaurant and Lounge in DC with a handful of what I thought were great friends… Oh and they got their invite months ago might I add. Long story short… One turned out to be a one-way friendship and another turned out to be…. I can’t even describe. Just selfish. I was told that due to her beliefs, she no longer celebrates birthdays. Wow. Just wow. Then Mother Nature had her way with me again, and knocked another friend out of the equation. It’s just too much to take… hence the tears but then the light!
I’m going to take something from this. One… I’m going to have an outlet that doesn’t have a heart. It’s not right to direct your hurt and anger at an unsuspecting victim, so my new friend, http://supattal.blogspot.com/, will just have to bare the brunt. Two, I am done with unrealistic expectations, especially from unrealistic friends who in reality I kept around because only every now and then something brilliant would come out of their mouth, but really it was just a sad comedy show most of the time. But I am a humanitarian and will let you have your dignity by letting you show your own self to the door. Three… Why after all these years have I been relying on friends to ring in another year with me? To my husband, it’s should have been you, it’s always been you, and it will always be you from now on on my special day… my love and best friend.
Tomorrow, I will go to work and have a productive day. I will pick up my beloved children and spend my birthday with them. And what of my “friends” you ask? I will have a real friend by my side as well who drives on the two-way street of friendship. Not all is lost… ;-)
Also… Eff you Hurricane Irene. That is all.
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