Goal Setting

Last Tuesday my work started a goal setting class. I was hesitant to go because even though I have goals, I always felt that they would just happen when the time is right. I'm not saying that I didn't ever plan on being proactive towards my goals, but a lot of them just felt like they would happen when I had enough money...and that would be "at some point." These are things like buying a house or purchasing a new(er) car.

Once I started writing my goals down, however, I found that I didn't want to stop. I realized that there are so many other things that I'd really like to do in my life that I don't currently make time for...or even focus on. Things such as making my own smoothies in the morning, seeing more plays and movies. I do them if they just happened to come up, of course, but I've never made a committment to myself to have goals that focus on having fun or doing the things I love, along with the career and material possession goals.

And not only did we write goals down but we had to write a time period or end date for when we plan to accomplish the goal. I felt overwhelmed at first at having so many things I plan to accomplish in just a year, but I can also tell already that it's giving me a different drive then I've had before in some areas. Take, for example, getting my real estate license. I knew I really needed to study more...but I didn't have (aside from my dad asking me what percentage I've completed every chance he can get) my own motivation each night to get me to sit down and study. It was another thing that I knew I would just complete at some point. But, now, I 've given myself until the beginning of June to obtain my license...which is a short time frame...but it's really given me the push that I need to stay committed to completing it. Am I still struggling to create the time/energy/brain power to do it? Absolutely. But now there's an excitement there that didn't exist before. Not only am I looking forward to getting my license by my target date, but once I do, there are other goals that I can then take action on because I'll have additional time and will be making more money.

Life doesn't seem so...what's the right word...mundane...ordinary... now. I have a lot to work on!

Love,
Aislinn

Pity Party

I'm feeling very blah today. Although, a large part of it, I know, is that I'm giving myself a pity party. I'm surrounded by many people in my life who are regularly praised, and even revered, and compared to them I sometimes feel like a nobody...that is how I'm feeling today. It's not as superficial as it sounds but I don't feel like getting into all of it.

I'll just say that I work very hard, and I don't mean just at my day job, though that is the main cause of my stress and feeling overwhelmed. A few posts back I spoke of becoming more domestic, but it's still difficult for me and I work hard at it. Cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, yard work, taking care of the cat, paying bills...making sure Neil and I are living happily and healthily. Plus, my best friend recently moved to Lake Oswego and I have put a lot of energy, albeit happily, into visiting her, playing with my god sons, cooking dinner with them...I think, though, that most of the energy is used in simply trying to create the time after I've worked all day during the week or cleaned the house and ran errands all day on the weekends. I also go to my acting class once a week, meet with my acting partner outside of class to rehearse and try to work on class assignments...and I'm also studying to get my real estate license (which is more work than I thought it would be, whooo weee!).

I'm not complaining about my life, though I'm sure it sounds that way. I am very blessed to have a steady job, a warm home, food to eat and good friends to surround myself with. I don't take any of it for granted.

I feel like I'm the one who is taken for granted. I feel like I live in the shadows of those around me, yet I am their support. I do all these things and rarely get praised or even thanked for them, but the people who surround me do one small gesture and they are everyone's hero, everyone's best friend. That sounds so dramatic, but it honestly blows me away sometimes, the reality of it. Though, I do take responsibility that this is my view, my interpretation.

My Leo moon (attention craving emotions) wants to be recognized, but I know that I need to stop looking outside of myself for approval and praise. That's a huge lesson, and struggle, for me that I often fail at. It is nice to be appreciated, though.

I find myself wanting to explain all these things that have happened recently, and throughout my life, that are fueling my pity party...but enough is enough. Plus, it's Neil's birthday on Monday, we're going to Mt. Hood for the weekend, and he's wanting to leave right now and I still have to pack. We're going to stay in my ex-step dad's family's condo...and hopefully go skiing...if I can muster the energy.

The Tao Te Ching often speaks of accepting what is in your life and not trying to make it right or wrong. If something good happens, good. If something bad happens, good. The master takes what comes to him...and in Aislinn terms, doesn't throw a pity party.

Love,
Aislinn

Bawk!

In my acting class the other night my coach, Neal, was talking to us about connecting with something that has happened in our lives that is similar to what is happening in the scene by asking "when have I...?" Whatever comes to mind, use it. "Play the action," my coach said, "and trust that what's underneath it will really come through."

I realized that that is exactly where I get stuck. I don't trust what comes to my mind when I'm trying to draw from own experiences.

I was working on Ibsen's A Doll's House and my coach instructed me to research influence. So, I asked myself, "when I have been influential?" I asked this for several days and finally grew frustrated with myself because the most prominent thing that came to mind was a situation in which I was not influential. When I mentioned this to David, my partner in the scene, he said to just use it. But, I protested, of course. How can I play the action of being influential if what comes to mind is a memory of not being, and desperately wanting to be, influential? David gently urged me to just embrace it anyways and see what happens.

So, when Neal said to just trust that what's underneath the action will come out, I had to make note of it as it became very clear to me that that is exactly what I need to work on: trust. Instead of judging whether my own experiences are good enough before I even try to use them, I need to just trust that they will be what I need in that moment.

And, I should say, after I opened up to using my non-influential memory, light was shed on the text for me and it had a whole different meaning then it did previously.

It's so silly how much I let myself get in my own way. And then I fuss and rant about how I'm not a "good" actor. I had an acting teacher in college who was such a bitch and I loved her for that because she was always straight with you. One day, she did an exercise with me to try to break me out of the restraints that I put on myself. It was one of the most embarrassing moments, I'm even shy to talk about it here.

My teacher had me stand on a block in front of the class. We had been studying Commedia and and she had me put my mask on. Then, another female student stood on a block behind me and when ever my teacher gave a signal, the other student hit me on the back of the head. I was then instructed to squawk like a chicken and whenever I was hit on the head I had to become more intense...try to take it as far as I could go...Squawking and flapping my arms. In the middle of it my teacher would clap her hands and I would have to switch into reciting a Shakespeare monologue that I had worked on the term before. The Commedia mask made it very hard to breath, my throat was dry and growing hoarse and I was sweating from being so hot and worked up. I kept dropping the intensity when I would shift between the squawking and the monologue and the student was instructed to hit me harder. The purpose was to push me to lose control and I only got there once, I later wrote in my journal. It was hard to look at my classmates when I was finished...I was flushed and felt like crying...and yet I couldn't help but feel lucky that my teacher had worked so hard with me.

What she said afterwards worries me when I think back on it. She said that you only need to do that kind of work with an actor once or twice because it will change them so much that they will remember it. So, why am I still stuck...in my own way...afraid to trust...afraid to lose control? Beyond the trust, methinks, another reason I hold back is because I'm afraid of what will actually come out when I do tap into and use my own experiences. (This is tough to describe for me.) So, what is it going to take? Squawking like a chicken on a bench while wearing a Commedia mask and being hit on the head obviously didn't do the trick.

For now, I'm going to work on trusting more, judging less and be willing to make mistakes.

Love,
Aislinn

Don't Diss Domesticity

I am so thrilled that my indoor plant starts are growing. It is so beautiful to me to see their progress everyday, though I'm nervous to actually plant them because I've gotten a bit attached to them and fear that they will die.

My dad and step-mom came up to Portland from Bend last Tuesday for one night. I had dinner with them before my acting class. I didn't realize how much I missed them until I was sitting at the table and looking at them. It's been hard to get away to visit them, and this is only the third time in three and a half years, since I moved here, that they've come to Portland. Anyhow, I mentioned to them that I had planted indoor starts and my step-mom thought that it was so great. She even made a comment about how I'm becoming more domestic, and this made her very happy.

My step-mom has two daughters and they produced grandchildren for her quite early. One daughter had three girls (though one died of SIDS) and the other daughter has four kids. At the beginning my step-sisters gave the impression of having a healthy, domestic life...one was married and the other lived with her boyfriend in Texas. I don't remember exactly when it all fell apart, but it did, and it did badly. Long story short, my step-mom no longer has contact with her daughters and her daughters no longer have custody of their children.

Throughout all of that I always felt like the odd one out, but in a good way. I never got into trouble with the law, I earned a bachelor's degree and was asked to be a part of the honor society Phi Kappa Phi, I've had respectable jobs in real estate and I've never been pregnant. The one thing I've never really been, though, is domestic.

My parents (by "parents" I mean my dad and my step-mom...my Mom is a completely different entity in my life and that's the way I like it), though very proud of my accomplishments and thankfulness that I turned out different than my step-sisters, always wanted me to be more "feminine." They would lecture me about dressing more ladylike, keeping my house clean and learning how to cook...my impression was that they just wished I was more domestic. I think I retaliated a bit because of that, because I felt that I could never be exactly what they wanted me to be.

Being engaged to Neil has really made me care about my life and what's in it. When I first got engaged, my best friend asked, "Do you really think you can settle down?" At first I was a bit hurt by the question, but then I realized that it came from a person who knows me better than anyone, except my mom. I think there was a part of me that really didn't want to be domestic and I questioned if I even wanted to have children. But, the thought of marrying Neil made me excited to create a cozy home for us and, slowly, I started to embrace my hidden domesticity.

I'm happy to be more domestic...it's a word that doesn't have a negative connotation for me anymore. I'm telling you, those plant starts really marked a shift in me. My mom was also very excited about them as she said I was becoming more nurturing and she's been waiting for that.

I am so in love with what's in my life right now. Things that were just "there" before are now much more near and dear to me. I think, perhaps, I have domesticity to thank for that.

Bada Bing!

Neil and I have been watching season one and two of the Sopranos. My friend lent it to us and we thought it would take forever to watch. In fact, Neil didn't even really care to watch it. But last Saturday we started watching season one, as nothing else was worth watching on TV, and the next thing we knew it was Sunday evening, we were still in our pajamas and we had watched all of season one and the beginning of season two. We're hooked. I need to find someone who has the other seasons so I don't have to rent it!

I've been fascinated with the Mafia for a while now. Actually, perhaps a better way to describe it is that I've been romanticized. I'm sure it's not as romantic as I've made it out to be, but it's provided some good day dreams...and even fantasies!

The first fiction writing class that I took in college I wrote a piece about a woman in the Mafia. I wrote it in first person, as if it were a magazine article, or a short bio...a woman telling how she became involved in the business that her father ran before his death, and the life that her mother loathed.

It's not a great story...and aside from a few engaging scenes, I'd even say it's not a good story, either. But, I haven't been drawn to fiction, I mostly like creative non-fiction and memoir, so it was basically my first real attempt at it. I felt embarrassed to read the piece out loud in the class, as everyone had to do, with a round table feedback session proceeding it. It was an idea that I had kicked around in my head for a long time and figured I might as well finally write it. But I think the story was a little too much of a fantasy and not one to really share with a group, at least at my level of writing. I felt crushed by some of the comments my classmates gave me. I wanted to create a story that made it believable that a woman could be powerful in the Mafia, and I got pretty attached to that.

I did receive some good feedback and was able to improve the story a great deal, but one comment frustrated me deeply and I can still recall the man saying it, several years later.
He said that I should be careful not to make it sound too much like The Godfather or The Sopranos, as it's already been done before. The hitch, for me, was that when I wrote the story I hadn't seen either the movie(s) or the TV show. In a sense I felt kind of good because it meant that I wrote something that reminded him of two praised works, but I wanted to be recognized for the fact that I didn't know what those works were like and somehow my story was able to resemble to them. In the end, I didn't want people to think that I wrote a story just because I liked The Godfather or that The Sopranos was popular.

I couldn't help but pull the story out the other night, after watching The Sopranos. It was embarrassing to read to Neil...who was I to write such things? But, I think I'd like to give it another shot. And not for people to read this time, just to see how I would approach it now that I've had more writing experience and developed my voice a bit more. We'll see.

Sometimes, trying to make the fantasy real actually ruins the romance of it.

Love,
Aislinn

Kiss Yourself

Someone presented the following Arthur Miller quote to me recently and it's quite powerful:

"I think it's a mistake to ever look for hope outside of oneself. One day the house smells of fresh bread, the next of smoke and blood. One day you faint because the gardener cut his finger off. Within a week you're climbing over the corpses of children bombed on a subway.

What hope can there be if that is so? I tried to die near the end of the war. The same dream returned each night until I dared not go to sleep and grew quite ill.

I dreamed I had a child, and even in the dream I saw it was my life, and it was an idiot, and I ran away. But it always crept into my lap again, clutched at my clothes. Until I thought if I could kiss it, whatever in it was my own, perhaps I could sleep.

And I bent to its broken face, and it was horrible...but I kissed it. I think one must finally take one's life in one's arms."

Arthur Miller
After the Fall

Kiss yourself.

Love,
Aislinn

It's All So Taxing

I'm feeling angry. It is an emotion I haven't felt in a long time. Sure, I get annoyed or bothered, but rarely am I angry. I just put my taxes in the mail and spent almost all of my savings doing so. I wouldn't have had to pay so much if I had stayed at my old job, working for a real estate agent in Lake Oswego. But, I left the job for my health, physical and mental. I left without planning, in a rush to become balanced, and healthy, again. I've struggled with feeling like I was punished financially for trying to make my life better (I know, that's quite the view of the victim, isn't it?).

If I stayed, I wouldn't have had money troubles and I wouldn't have gotten another job with a realtor friend who didn't take taxes out of my pay (I took a job I knew out of financial fear, instead of pursuing a job in a field that I'm passionate about). Then came the holidays and just before hand I had to pay an unexpected chunk of money for a health issue. Thus, I didn't have the money to set aside for taxes and am now paying out just about all that I have.

What hurts the most is that I feel I'm sending nearly all that I have to a government whose choices I don't agree with. It stings. I don't know what to do with the anger. Part of me is trying to accept it as a harsh lesson of "that's life", but another part of me wants to fight it, change it, not have to accept it. But how do you do that?

Sometimes I feel so daunted by how many people there are in this world. I have several thoughts that come up around this. Why should I have children and add to the chaos? Why should have I have children and subject them to the world and it's ways? How can I make a difference on my own? And, why do I feel that I'm not important enough or don't have it in me to make a difference? These are all very negative, depressing views that I'm not proud of. But, I won't lie that I don't have them.

I feel disempowered, and that is all my doing. I'm allowing myself to feel disempowered instead of being a powerful stand for transformation. So, who should I really be angry with? The government? The system? Or, myself?

I'm starting to feel that it's the latter.

Love,
Aislinn

Cement Garden

Last Sunday I did something that I've never done before. I planted seeds. Now, I have planted seeds in my garden before, but this time I planted indoor starts to later be transplanted. And I'm so excited! I'm anxious to care for my little baby plants, water them and watch them peak their heads out of the soil, and then, when they're big enough, plant them out in the real world and hope that they survive.

I had received packets of seeds as gifts here and there and as my allergies kicked in I grew inspired to contribute to the new life emerging into Spring. I sowed seeds for Borage, a leafy plant with edible purple flowers, Lavender, Morning Glory vines and Sunflowers. I also planted a few Cosmo seeds into a pot outside, which I'll most likely transplant later into the ground.

I foresee one problem, though. I don't actually have a "garden", just a few empty pots, a strip in front of my house, which is already full with daffodils, and a small patch of dirt under a shade tree. Directly in front of my door is a large cement area attached to the cement driveway. My options for replanting aren't great. I'll have to rely heavily on the pots. One day, though, I will have a house, my own house, and I'll create a garden where I can grow such things as lettuce and peas and tomatoes. Home grown tomatoes are amazing. I'm not a huge tomato fan, but the thought of succulent home grown tomatoes makes my mouth water.

Actually, one of my greatest dreams is to one day own a farm with vast pastures for animals to freely roam and rich soil to grow our own food. It will take a ton of work, I know. More work, perhaps, than I'm actually willing to do. But, I can picture it clearly in my mind.

When I was probably 14 or so, I went with my mom and (ex) step dad to a lake right along the Oregon Coast. We went to windsurf and camp and one evening we drove into the nearest town for dinner. Along the way, the thick golden rays from the lowering sun showered over a farm along the highway. There was a quaint red house with a red barn and lush, green fields as far as the eye could see. The ridge of a hill in the distance was spotted with white sheep. Closer in was a flock of brilliant white geese. And in the field directly in front of the house was a herd of pigs, running freely, full bore into the sea of green grass that spread out before them. I had never seen pigs looks so clean and healthy and happy. I started to cry. I wanted that farm so bad. I made my mom go back and I took pictures, one of which I hung on my wall to remind me of that dream.

So, my little plant starts mean more to me than watching them grow. If I succeed in growing them (I don't exactly have a green thumb), then I'm creating a garden even though I don't have one in the true sense of the word. Why that is so important to me is that I'm taking the steps to realize a dream in the face of challenge, where the final results are not easily seen. I've planted the starts, but I don't know where they're all going to live in the end. But, if I can create a "garden" in the vastness of cement in front of my house, it gives me a glimmer of hope for realizing the bigger dream: the big farm with lush pastures and perfect little piggies.

Cheers to growing!

Love,
Aislinn

Worth Your While

I'm having a hard time writing about myself. I haven't written in a couple days, since my very first post. Monday's and Tuesday's will be hard to write, anyways, as those days don't end for me until 10:30 at night, and I don't feel like sitting in front of the computer when I get home. Although, I am writing now....

I'm rather forcing myself to write, however, to try to get over being uncomfortable about writing about myself. I actually like to write about myself in a creative non-fiction sense, when I have a story or experience I want to tell (though these stories have always been longer in length and not fit, in my mind, for a blog). What I'm struggling with, still, is that I feel that what happens in my day is inconsequential to someone else. Who really wants to sit down and read about my frustrations at work or how I cleaned my house all weekend long? I am writing for me, so I can feel self expressed and also to keep me in the practice of writing every day (or at least more often than not!). But, what throws me off is that I'm writing this blog knowing that people are going to read it and I feel a bit of pressure to make it worth their while.

I know my blog doesn't have to be a laundry list of what I did all day... in fact, I know that I don't have to mention a single thing that I do in my day, it's just what seems to come to mind first.... I'll get into the groove. I don't want this to be an annoying tangent of "what should I write about, what shouldn't I write about?". It is helping me to just write, for even if I don't know what to write about, sometimes just sitting down and starting to write about the mundane laundry list exposes gems of writing inspiration.

I am very tired right now, so I'm going to sign off, but I really do hope to write again soon. Sweet dreams.

Love,
Aislinn

Bed Punting

My fiance kicks his legs at night. As soon as he gets into bed, and even after he falls asleep, he seems to have Restless Leg Syndrome. He shakes his foot or twitches his feet or kicks his right leg in to the air and lets it land with a thump on the mattress. It's not as bad as it was when he first moved in. Although, I think I say that because I've just gotten used it. When I change the sheets or straighten the bed, I don't even tuck his side in. I know it's just going to come undone with his RLS. I actually have a hard time falling asleep sometimes if I don't have his shaking foot rocking me to slumber. It's like driving in a car when you were little. The constant motion is comforting. If I was upset when I was younger and wouldn't take a nap, my mom would put me in the car and drive around until I fell asleep. Which didn't take long.

The other night, though, Neil's kicking made me edgy. Every time his leg launched into the air and shook the bed with it's return I became anxious with anticipation of when he would stop. As I contemplated trying to hold his leg down, I opened my eyes and saw the glow of my computer screen in the next room. Perhaps if I got up to write, his kicking would cease by the time I came back to bed. But what would I write? I could write about his kicking, since that's what was on the forefront of my mind. I started thinking of descriptive words and phrases to express the experience of his kicking. But then I thought, what for? I knew that I would write about it and then feel a bit silly that I had left bed just to write about Neil kicking. Which then launched a debate in myself of why I felt that what I was experiencing was inconsequential. I didn't want to write something just to hit the delete button when I was done, but what would I do with a saved writing about my fiance's bed punting? Why was I trying to qualify what I was going to write about when what I really needed to do was just write? I just wanted to be self expressed.

After a month, or even longer, of trying to get myself to create a blog, I decided that it was finally time to stop procrastinating. I was too tired to create one that night, but I had finally made it over the hump of indecision. I had been waiting for some great burst of inspiration or even an epiphany, but in the end, all it took was my sweet Neil doing what he often does and me getting the itch to write about it.

So, here it goes...welcome to my blog!

With love,
Aislinn