As If...

I’m awake at 6:30am, feeling slightly disappointed I didn’t sleep later but excited to be awake. I feel I have plenty of time to write before heading downtown for a matinee. One of my favorite girly books “Something Borrowed” by Emily Giffin is now a movie and it opened yesterday. I hate going to the movies at night when it overly loud and crowded. I have today off and am so thrilled at the idea of a movie in the morning after some coffee.
Once out the door I’m watching the sky. It’s sunny. Kind of. Off to the east the sun is bright and shining. To the west it’s dark and gray. I am prepared to stay inside today and it feels like a vacation. I’m honestly not sure if that’s going to happen though. I order an Americano at the Knockbox but don’t finish it. I’m trying to calm down a bit with the caffeine. I used to consume about 24 oz of caffeinated beverages a day and I’m currently down to 6 oz. I’m not sure I can quit entirely. I certainly don’t want to but I do want to see if the dermatitis on my left hand will want to feel like calming down with less caffeine. I’m also curious as to what my mind will feel like when it’s not jolted first thing in the morning and running at 100 mph.
I write Jeff an email before pulling out my journal. This email I construct is novel length relaying the details of my work day yesterday and the events of last night which involved a very dear client of mine, veggie nachos, beer and some live music. It was so great to be out. I usually go straight home after work, exhausted and bitchy but I’m thinking, only thinking about trying some different things. Starting last night. My client and I talked and talked. I adore this woman. We have the same birthday, born on the same year and the same quirky weirdness like a serious lack of a sense of direction and the same desire to be asleep by 9:30pm to get up and going in the morning. Both of us were yawning and giggling about it by 10:30pm despite thoroughly enjoying ourselves. We had dinner at the Heartland Café and went to see some friends of hers play some fabulous music at The Red Line Tap next door. I got sucked in thirty seconds into the first song, and fell in love with the singer’s beautiful voice. Listening to her made me feel at times during different songs like I was in Atlanta with a group of friends in a dive bar on a hot August night listening to a friend perform. My mind bounces from that to some image I’ve dreamed up of being barefoot in someone’s backyard watching the lightening bugs light up among giant oak trees.
An hour later, I drop off my computer at home and head out again to catch the bus. After crossing over Michigan ave I realize I should be on the Grand bus and not the Chicago one. I get off and haul ass through the swarms of people toward the theater. I can’t believe how many people are out and about this early on a Saturday. I know it’s almost ten, but the stores don’t open until then. Right? Who knows…
I am captivated by the giant tulips that line the street, kicking myself for not bringing along my camera. The city does such a beautiful job every year with the flowers on Michigan Ave and Millennium Park.
I make it to the theater in time for the previews. Again, it’s packed and I’m amazed. I remain captivated throughout the movie, laughing out loud at several parts, feeling simply delighted by the plot, the setting, and falling in love with the characters. My thirteen year old self is having a blast.
When the movie ends and I’m outside discovering that it’s not raining some part of me is begging to go to Betsey Johnson at Water Tower Place. I remind this part of what day it is. Nightmare shopping day. The tourists have already been swarming these past few days. Even on the quietest days, Michigan Ave isn’t always the most pleasant place to be. Still this part argues back, not caring so off I go to discover what it is I may find.
What I find is my imagination. I am turned on to all the stunningly beautiful fabrics, the sequins, purses and the shoes…oh my, the shoes and all their sparkly goodness. Folks, where is my trust fund? The images take me hostage and I feel I must touch every garment. There is a floor length strapless black ruffle dress, a cream colored lace and chiffon one. I see pink ones with sliver bows, lavender cream puff corset numbers, short magenta ones that look like giant fluffy cupcakes. A voice whispers to me to try one on. This isn’t the first time I’ve played dress up here, concocting some story to the women that work there about going to a wedding, a Christmas party, a work event etc… today though when the spunky platinum blonde woman asks if I’m searching for something in particular I say no, that I haven’t been in in a while and wanted to look around.
“Let me know if you need any help!” she beams.
I thank her and keep moving. I could talk to these girls all day. It’s the only store where I don’t dodge the sales people because they seem so genuine and they give plenty of space. I roam around, meander, and try not to drool. Before I know it I’ve pick up a blue, white and yellow swimsuit. This may be a horrible idea. The last time I had a swim suit on was September of 09 in Hawaii. I’m not sure I’m ready to see the effects this winter has had on my body. I don’t let go of it though and before I know it the blonde has taken it off my hands placing it into a fitting room. “Might as well try on a dress.” I tell myself and pull a blue and pink ruffly one off the rack feeling giddy.
“You want shoes with that?” the blonde smiles mischievously.
“I do!” I exclaim.
“What size?”
“Hmm..7.”
She grabs another dress for me. A pink and black one saying she thinks it will look good with my hair.
I put the swimsuit on first and fall in love. Ok so the winter was bad but…maybe not so bad…I am amused by the dresses in all their fancy, ruffly glory when I slip into them. Oh if I could manage to blow stupid amounts of money I’d have a closet full of these dresses. Let’s not forget about the shoes now. They are three inch heels with a sparkly rhinestone bow residing over my toes.
I’ve been in dressing room far too long it seems fantasizing about where I could wear these things to, talking myself into and out of buying something before putting on my regular clothes and stepping out of princess mode, entering the real world again.
“How’d you do?” the blonde asks.
“I love everything, but sadly I have to give them back.” I hand over the lovelies while watching her face fall and turn to something that resembled irritation. I walk out of the store feeling a lil bit guilty but then quickly reminding myself that her job is to deal with clothing and customers. End of story.
Once outside again, I pass a nice looking man holding a sign saying “Free Hugs” I’ve seen these people standing there before and part of me regrets not stopping for a free hug. It doesn’t get any better than that.
I stop by Trader Joes for some groceries and head home. While on the bus, I get the idea suddenly out of the blue that in order for me to stop giving myself such hard time about my writing, doing it and or not doing it and letting go. I’ve been thinking about it all day. I’ve been wanting to record this feeling I have. I can’t even explain it but I want to attempt to write it out but that feels scary as usual and I avoid it. Is it avoidance, or is it me letting it incubate, and mature before attempting to define it and touch it with words? I don’t know yet.
Other thoughts enter my mind about writing as if I am already published, as if I’m already out there in the world and known. I put so much pressure on myself to “write well”, to “write perfectly” but really, what does that mean? If I let go and act as if I’m already being assigned a project, I’ll have nothing to worry about right? I should just write right? Noticing this is the most freeing feeling I’ve had in a while. Now the question is, where do I start and with what project? Being patient and letting the writing happen instead of controlling it is excruciatingly difficult.
I see today that playing around in pretty things, artist dates, getting out of my comfort zone allows these realizations to happen. Again, it’s the letting go that feels super hard. I want it all to happen my way when I know good and well someone much bigger than me has an even better idea, something I didn’t even think of.
Once home I see that Dana is out and our place is silent save for Noodle’s occasional meow. I pull off my rain boots and push my feet into my running shoes. I go for about three miles before suddenly stopping, wanting to walk and day dream for a bit, concocting something I may want to write a story about despite feeling silly about it. We’ll see.
I make a late lunch, read and drink some hot chocolate before heading over to the Knockbox to get online and find this theater I’ll be heading to tonight with my friend Haley. We’re going to see a burlesque show late this evening. I went to one in Atlanta that left me feeling weird so I’m curious as to how this one will be. I’m also happy to see my friend. I better sneak a nap in or I won’t make it too far tonight...