my right now

 I got some hard news today, and I texted my boyfriend right away. Minutes later, I was digging through a pile of laundry, wearing only a tired t-shirt, trying to find my last clean pair of leggings, when he silently appeared in my doorway. Like a movie. He nearly gave me a heart attack, but before I could say anything, his arms were around me. Tears stung my eyes as I laid my head on his chest. I tried to convince him I was fine, but of course, the more he told me he loved me and that everything would be okay, the more my heart melted. 

Now, bear in mind, he lives with roommates in an apartment that faces mine (Yep, Ross-and-Rachel-style!), so we see each other pretty frequently. But, like everyone, we still text back and forth on they days we’re both home and busy.

I texted him to say that I wouldn’t be needing a ride to work after all, since my editing work had been cancelled for the day.

Usually, a cancelled work shift mean a fun day. But for a struggling artist after the holiday season whose car is in the shop, it’s not great news.

And, it merits the boyfriend dropping everything to come by and give me a hug. No questions, no criticisms. Just a hug. 

I gave into my emotion, and let him hold me. I wiped my eyes, and thanked him.

He smiled and kissed my forehead, and told me everything would be okay.

I let my eyes drift across the framed pictures on my wall. The inspirational scribbles hung there. The art. And I knew deep down that he was right. Soon, everything would ripen, or at the very least sprout, and we’d both enjoy the fruit of our artistic labors. But right now, a hug was given and received with much honesty and love. And gratitude. 

“Do you want to go with me to Trader Joe’s”

I’d been working all morning and afternoon, my eyes glossy from staring at multiple screens. 

“Yes.”

A trip out of doors, even just around the corner, would be right what I needed. 

The plants and produce that greet you at Trader Joe’s are exactly the remedy for a drab, post-New Year’s funk. I happily traded in staring at computer screens to staring at the beautiful, colorful chalk signs at our local Trader.

Down every aisle, I just held George’s hand as he studied the items, and I let the vibrant squiggles and curved lines of each chalkboard sign take me somewhere else. I read about collagen supplements and the origins of cucumbers. I learned exactly what made up Green Goddess dressing. I sampled a delicious spinach salad. 

I wandered through Trader Joe’s with a renewed sense of wonder and appreciation for the place. From the cheerful cashier who asked us about our New Years to the clever quip on the side of George’s tissue box purchase... Our simple visit to Trader Joe’s was a balm on my aching heart. 

As we finished checking out, George pulled me close again. I think he saw me studying the whimsical chalk lettering and tasted my wistful, aching spirit. I thought about the Green Goddess dressing I might purchase when I can regularly grocery shop with less frugality again.

He gave me an octopus kiss on my forehead, a favorite among his kiss inventions of 2017. I tried to give him one back, but my technique still needs some work.

Sure, more fashion sketching. More money saving. I hope to spend more time outside. But beyond those things, I know that I also want to make gratitude a daily practice for me, and to express it each day in a blog. No lengthy chronicle needed, but I do want to keep a written record of the gratefulness I feel. 

After doing some brief research -- both accidental (see Pixar’s “Coco”) and intentional (see this blog post) -- I really want to commit to a daily gratefulness blog. Be it big or small, I’m going to pour out my gratitude to the universe. 

Last week, I was hired to play my harp for a VIP event at House of Blues Anaheim. 

Yep, you read that right. It was such a wonderful, whirlwind experience. Somewhat of a last minute booking, as a favor to a friend, but nevertheless thrilling.

Now mind you, where music gigs are concerned, my solo performances have leaned out over the past few years; if anything, I typically play with my string quartet or not at all. It isn’t because I no longer enjoy performing, I’ve just invested my time and energy into creative gigs that align more with my other skills, writing and design. That being said, music is still one of my passions, and I appreciate the opportunities as they come along.

Regardless of this, the gig was AMAZING. Days before, I practiced and prepped dutifully. And despite some apprehension the morning of, I performed confidently at the event itself. I was proud of my set, received warm approval from the guests, and experienced great personal satisfaction and pride at the close. 

What I didn’t expect was this: I was invited back, to play for another event the following month.

For some reason, this made me somewhat anxiously evaluate who I was in that moment. Suddenly, I had this thought. “Oh...They think I’m a harpist. I’m an artist and a writer, but they think I’m actually a harpist.”

A wave of guilt washed over me. Even though I had just performed harp music in the gorgeous VIP room of House of Blues for nearly two hours, I began to doubt myself. I questioned my integrity, what my true profession was, and how I defined myself as an artist. I ran several labels through my head, attempting to best capture who or what I was, and ultimately, was subconsciously undermining my identity as a musician in the process. It didn’t matter that I’ve been playing the instrument since I was ten years old. In my mind, for some reason, I felt like I wasn’t really a harpist, because it wasn’t my full time job.

With enthusiasm, however, I accepted the upcoming gig. I silenced my conflicted heart, and resolved to discuss my thoughts further with my sister and other artist friends. And what I realized after talking to them is this:

Who you are and how you make your living are two very, very, very different things.

Your livelihood does not constitute your identity, and identity does not constitute your livelihood. Even though nobody was insinuating this about me, I was doing it to myself. I was making confusing alternations to my own identity, attempting to cram myself down into the definable confinement of a single label or two. As if human beings were meant to be boxed in.

As I relaxed into the idea that I was who I was, the anxiety about who I really was warmed and settled a deep, warm confidence in me. And I felt freedom from the rules and self-inflicted labels I gave myself. I felt free and true enough to pursue music and art and writing, because of my love and talent for all of those things. And who knows? Maybe I’ll develop a new talent or skill that will add to the tapestry of my ever unfolding creative identity!

The Muppets have played an important role in my life, from childhood to adulthood -- my relationship with my boyfriend included!  Leading up to my first Valentine’s with George, I was extremely nervous for a bunch of reasons. I’ve never understood Valentine’s Day to be this mushy day for couples only, because that’s not how I was raised to think of it (More on that in another post!). It always weirded me out in the past when people, particularly guys in my life, made it something super dramatic and romantic. Valentine’s Day was a major opportunity for me to see which direction George would go, based on how well he knew me that point. I definitely dropped more than one not-so-subtle hints that I did not want any kind of special gift or special treatment on Valentine’s Day. 

 Well, all my anxiety and apprehension vanished when the day finally came. In a super casual, yet tender way, he handed me a small, simple package that contained the best Valentine gift ever: a DVD of The 1979 MUPPET MOVIE. 

Needless to say, it’s now our tradition, to watch a Muppet movie every Valentine’s Day.

This gift touched my heart on so many levels, but mostly because it made me feel known. He understood the depth of what these characters meant to me, in all their retro-wierdness, and it felt like he deeply understood me and my retro-weirdness too.

 Jim Henson and his furry friends were incredibly impactful on my personal development. As an kid, a teenager, an adult, an artist, a writer, a student, a human... Their demonstrations of wonder, love, silliness, family, and music always resonated with something inside of me. The colors and textures of their appearances, the quirkiness of their names, and their authentic questions about the great mysteries of life, posed so vulnerably and innocently... The spirit of the Muppets is almost as precious to me as the physical portrayals themselves. So, you can only imagine, the thought of seeing a real, live Muppet performance on this scale is thrilling to me!

It can’t go without saying, I can't help but harbor some feelings of sadness, as I process that Kermit the Frog will not be performed by Steve Whitmire, the Jim Henson handpicked Kermit performer since 1993. After some creative differences, Disney chose to fire Whitmire, and has replaced him with another performer, Matt Vogel. After a lifetime of Whitmire Kermit, it's going to be reallllly, realllly, realllllllly hard to experience this new Kermit. 

But even so, I feel lucky. I feel lucky to have lived through two generations of OG Kermit performers. It's pretty unbelievable that we're in a new era.