Setting the table...

It's that time we sit ourselves around a table with friends and family to give thanks. Thanks for all the people and events that take place in our lives. I am thankful for all the people who are, have been (and may no longer be) in my life. I hope each and everyone of you know this, because it should have been told to you directly.

But what about those who have been in my life, yet I've never met?

This post is a thank you to all of them. It's the imagination playing towards a feast at a table of first introductions.

Envision it. A table set for twelve. In my cramped apartment, makeshift tables (of varying heights and shapes) would be placed together accompanied by non-matching chairs with just enough space to squeeze our forms into place. The china would be eclectic plates and silverware all found from the DI achieving miscellaneous patterns, with wine glasses of differing colors set to their side. Two Red Rock Beer growlers would be on the table, cleaned and replenished with ice cold water in the effort to maintain, but not exceed, a nice holiday buzz.

All the typical fixings would be present: Roasted Turkey, Mom's scrumptious mashed potatoes, my famous and fresh cranberry sauce, homemade white rolls perfect to dollop butter on top and eat whole. I'd prepare other dishes as well, on the off chance of dietary needs: Vegetarian lasagna, crispy Brussels sprouts in orange reduction, a fine kale salad, and of course sweet potatoes. And god forbid, lets not forget the dessert: Pumpkin Pie, zabaglione drizzled strawberries, and few pieces of chocolate to compliment the evening coffee.

At the table, conversation would begin awkwardly, but would build to a rousing chatter. Sitting around the table would be J.K. Rowling, Neil Gaiman, Amanda Palmer, Jimmy Kimmel, Tina Fey, Jack Zipes, Tim Burton, Francesca Lia Block, Ira Glass, Liz Weir, and Eddie Vedder.

Each would bring a unique perspective to the table, which I feel would compliment and balance one another. As a proper host I would thank them all for the times they have supported me with out knowing, directed and guided me without knowing, made me laugh or cry: Amanda Palmer would get the dinner started by finding the perfect moment to hasten my rambling gratitude by asking for the rolls to be passed. J.K. Rowling would start a deep conversation asking Neil Gaiman about his recent writings on the issues faced by Syrian refugees and would add her insights from when she worked for Amnesty International. Jack Zipes would bring their discussion to folklore and culture, and present a classic tale matching the holiday, while Tim Burton would listen and then twist the tale on its head, and Liz Weir would present a traditional Irish folktale that would take all our breaths away. Jimmy Kimmel would break the deep thoughts by laughing, and Tina Fey would bring a witty and natural insight to his laughter, which would make the whole table break into unstoppable laughter. The food would be appreciated, but the conversation would be the highlight of the evening. Francesca Lia Block would provide a verbal painting on the transition from Grunge to Indie to the full circle of folk music with Eddie Vedder. Amanda Palmer and Eddie Vedder would entertain the group with renditions of songs with the aide of a ukulele, while I cleared the plates and set the table for dessert. All the while Ira Glass would be connecting our stories to those he has met or heard about on his various journeys. And then I would see who wanted to match their Harry Potter trivia to the creator herself (all questions created by self of course).

J.K. Rowling would put me in my place, while I finished the last bite of pumpkin pie on my plate, and I would bow and smile at the same time. As the group would leave my small home, I would thank my newly met friends for a memorable evening. I would hug each and everyone of them for all they provided to me and all that will come. I would say thanks. Thanks to every moment, every wish I have had in my life, thanks for living and learning. I would close the door and know everyday is a new journey with the possibility of setting new stages to life: creating each and everyone of our stories.

It is the story that is important: the reflection, celebration and moments that make us feel alive.

A Chorus Line of Kickers...

It's been in my head lately. Maybe it's because of all the employment sites I've been searching, signing up with, and the mass of lingering silence from the multitude of applications sent into the Ethernet. Whatever it is, the song is on repeat in my mind. You know the one:

"Who am I anyways?

Am I my resume?

That is a picture… of a person I don't know..."

Repeat people. Wherever I go, whatever I'm doing, the lyrics of "I Hope I Get It" from The Chorus Line kicks into my thoughts and starts singing. It's driving me crazy, making me constantly question who I am, what I want, what I'm doing…at every moment of the day. It’s exhausting. So instead of finding answers, I curl into my bed, pull my hoody over my head, and sleep in the attempt to drown the voice in dreamland. 

Now I get this is not the most productive practice. But I figure, configuring a line of friends and doing kicks in unison wouldn’t really help either (it might be fun, but I don’t think my knee joints would appreciate the minute of laughter I would get out of our non synchronized dance moves). Instead of high kicks in this depressing January inversion--known to all Salt Lake citizens--I kicked myself in the *!*, and got out of dodge.

A three hour drive in mountains with blue skies, home cooked meals from the Mom, and a lot of laughter over the conversations (I swear) only my family has, got me out of the smoggy-foggy-funk. In other words, I got out of bed—took off the hoody—and started some movement with a few pushups.

Lets face it. I don’t have the answers. God “I Hope I Get It” is in high gear. I’m still searching; as always—if you’ve read any of my other posts. 

But I figured out something. I’m not a follower. Whatever I do, I want to do my way (and yes, I’m hoping Frank Sinatra will demand a smack down with the chorus line of kickers in my mind and take over the tune stuck in my head). 

Drummer Man, Lemon Chicken, and a Place Called Home...

I'm learning to find comfort in myself...

To make time for all the things I love to do...

And "home" is what I make it...

The one thing I love in life is seeing people happy...
Doing the things they love...
Making the most of life in the time we have...
Sharing experiences and being ourselves...

Yesterday, I was exhausted after a long (and may I say fun) weekend of work. Driving to have lunch with a few co-workers, I found myself stopped on 4th South and 300 West in downtown SLC.

Stretching my neck, I turned and saw a gentleman in his beat-up work truck, wearing his fluorescent work vest and beat-up white work shirt, practicing the drums by pounding drumsticks upon the dashboard to the beat of a track--I can only assume--was playing on his stereo. It wasn't as if we were there long, or that he saw me, but it was a moment of life. He was his job, I was on my way to relax from mine. He was an individual with talents and goals, making the time for each wherever possible. I had taken the steps to achieve mine with my new job. I left smiling.

Tonight, after a planned coffee with a high school friend I haven't seen in 15 years, I found myself out to a forgotten dinner planned with the girls. Catching up over Chinese food, we laughed at our passed frustrations and disscussed our new worries, goals, jobs, boys--you know girl talk. Each of us reached for our chocolate fortune cookies with anticipation, and found ourselves in disappoitment. None of us received what we wanted (you know the fortune that says... "You will win a million dollars tomorrow." And it actually happens). Instead I received...

"All the water in the world can't sink a ship unless it gets inside."

O.k. Thanks for that.

So I left dinner and met up with a friend for dessert. Through our conversation I found myself telling one of my favorite stories during my last trip in Europe. I realized this time in telling, my moral in the story--"If you miss your train to catch your plane, there is always another way back home."--was like my fortune cookie. And the fortune cookie was like the stranger playing the drums in his truck.

I saw something in passing yesterday...

I received a fortune from my fortune cookie at dinner tonight...

I told a story to a friend over dessert and coffee...

And each melded together to a strange and comfortable realization.

There may be hiccups in achieving my dreams, but if I see the moments around me then the few seconds of waiting for a light to change from red to green will open my eyes to reflect upon my fortunes, and a story told many times before, can show the foundation to the home I plan to live in.

A Slippery Slope

Oh yeah... This girl went to Raging Waters this overcast Labor Day. I spent my time with work friends, braving the rickety wooden steps, and splashing my way down plastic tubes that are colored bright orange, green, blue, and purple. (As one friend told me, go purple or go home.)

But as my body was pushed down each lively tube to a splash down of water, I began thinking: "I'm riding a slippery slope in life."

Things are going really well at the moment, don't get me wrong. But my dreams are beginning to tell me things. Most of which I don't understand. But subconsciously I am (apparently) trying to deal with a lot. And if I've learned anything in life, the one I hold to is, sometimes you need to ask for help to clarify what's going on. So here are my odd dreams, and I ask for help from you to decipher them.

1. Lady Gaga

First let me tell you, I know very little about Lady Gaga. I know she judged on So You Think You Can Dance and I've seen one of her music videos. So I find it odd, with the little I know about her, that she made it into my dream. Anyhow here I go with what happened.

I was on a hill, there were different buildings around. Lady Gaga appears and she is in a disguise, blond shoulder length wig and regular clothing--white t-shirt and jeans. She is pushing a shopping cart that contains an air-conditioning unit in it. Trying to find her a hotel where she won't be recognized we begin pushing the cart (full of AC unit) up the grassy hill. We get to the first hotel, but they recognize Lady Gaga so we retreat and find ourselves in a different hotel. Here we seek refuge. Lady Gaga installs the AC unit and all is fine until someone begins banging on the door shouting, "We know she's in there."

Then my mind jumps to the next dream.

2. Mouth

This one is short, but a bit disgusting so pass it if you'd like.

I'm sitting on my bed in my room, I begin coughing and this vile slimy substance (formed like a long rope) is coming from my mouth. I begin choking, so I grab at this slimy rope and begin pulling and I feel it moving out of my esophagus.

Which then moves to...

3. Thigh Wound

Now here's the kicker. Again, a warning this one is a bit macabre.

So I'm at a guys house that I dated for awhile. He is in his living room talking to his friends, I'm in his room laying on his bed with a sheet wrapped around me. I'm staring down at my thigh and there is a large bloody hole in its center. I keep looking down at my thigh thinking, "I should probably have this looked at," while the guy is laughing with his friends in the other room. I wait awhile before I make up my mind (I don't want to disturb the conversation with his friends). Finally, I get up and walk into the living room with the sheet wrapped around me and look at the guy and say, "Hey, I think I need to go to the hospital and have this looked at." He stops talking to his friends and looks and me frustrated and says, "Is it your thigh again." I say, "Yeah,"surprised because apparently this has happened before. He shakes his head, places his hand inside my wound and pulls out a pouch of congealed blood, and whatever else, and throws it to the side. My thigh heals, all that is left of the gaping wound is a bit of dried blood and he shakes his head and says, "You really need to stop freaking out about that." I say, "Sorry, I guess I'm just being stupid," and he begins talking to his friends while I just stand there wrapped in a bed sheet.

Then I wake up.

I have no idea what these dreams are trying to tell me. Any insights would be greatly appreciated. Hoping for better dreams tonight, and no more slippery slopes.

Dreams, Fears, and a Girl's Desire

This year, Phil the Groundhog popped his head out to the light on February 2 and did not run in fear of his shadow, marking an early spring. This small act of stepping forth to confront ones fears made me realize, maybe I should take note and crush the ever "creeping shadow" that grows each year in my life come February.

I am of course talking about, the dreaded "pink aisle" (see Feb. post in 2010), in which I found myself reluctantly the other day while purchasing the ingredients for my miracle cure chicken noodle soup. Lets just put it simply: I stared at all the pink heart balloons, sniffled my stuffy nose at each of them, and resisted the urge to deflate each happy heart that relayed messages such as, "Be Mine," "Kiss Me," and "Lover Boy." Instead, I quickly shuffled my feet out of the aisle and sneezed all the way home.

A few days later, I found myself relaying a memory to a friend while we were having coffee. It was a memory of my Nonna, and I began to realize why the "pink aisle" has such an affect on me while I told it. You see, my Nonna had become sick. My Mom, myself, and a few aunts and cousins (all girls) went to see her in the hospital. She was coming out of the anesthesia when she looked at my Mom, grabbed her hand, and said, "Lori, I just want to dye my hair red, put on a red dress, and have Pino take me dancing."

She was 80 years old. And the dream in her mind was still the dream of a young woman. The dream to feel pretty and special. The dream to twirl through life with that special someone on your arm. Truly, I am beginning to realize this is the dream and desire of every girl whether they're 16, 22, 31, 60, or 80. All we want is to connect and feel special, appreciated, desirable.


Repeating the memory to my friend, I understood the "pink aisle" had become my foreboding reminder that I was the only girl who didn't get asked to the dance. And in truth, all I wanted was to dye my hair red, put on a foxy red dress, and have a special gentleman twirl me around this dance-floor we call life.

So, like Phil the groundhog, I took my first steps into the light (the modern realm of the dating world) and blocked away that ever looming shadow.

You might ask how this has found me? And I have to say, thus far it has brought smiles and laughter, and maybe, just maybe, a dance is in the cards of my future. But I can truly say, the next time I find myself in the "pink aisle,"  I will not sniffle my nose at it, but instead, buy a red heart shaped box of chocolates and eat every piece with the thought of my Nonna in a red dress, red hair, dancing with my Nonno eternally, and smile.

Owning up to Dreams and Desires

At the beginning of the year, I decided I needed to take action and begin working on my goals and dreams. I bought a day planner, but not just any day planner an "Action Day" planner. It not only holds what I have planned for the day, but my yearly goals, and sections for each week that I am "supposed" to write in to achieve these goals.

So it was that at the end of January 09, I began this planner, and it is today (October 09) that I am beginning to review it. The last goal that I wrote down was "I want to own up to my dreams and desires." With the hope that "I will feel I live a good and fruitful life." I wrote that I would achieve this by, "Just Do It! This is the year to put yourself out there!" ...

What was I thinking, "Just Do It!". A Nike slogan, and I truly dislike running. It's painful on my body, my joints begin to ache, my muscles burn in ways that make me not want to move or do another thing for the day, and lets just face it: It is exhausting! I didn't expect that owning up to my dreams would generate a Marathon I wasn't anticipating to run.

But I must say that even with this ridiculous slogan, it is a goal well worth undertaking. We discuss our aspirations in our youth and then at some point either fall into what we perceive society has structured for us, or we hide ourselves away and continue to wish and hope things will change, or we step out the front door and take our first step on the long run that we may not win.

I have placed myself in each of these "either" "or" situations, and I am happy to say that at this moment my foot is beginning to leave the threshold of the front door, I may even go as far as saying that the door is shut behind me, though my hand is still grasping tight. To own up to something is take responsibility, to take praise if all goes well, but also to take fault and blame if it does not.

Like I said, in our youth we discuss our aspirations. I did this a lot. And it is difficult when people I knew from high school, or even my undergraduate studies, ask me what I am doing now. Because we can all talk a big talk when we want to, but it is our choices to act which truly bring fruition. And it is a long run from action to achievement. But we must realize that we don't always have to go on the run on our own.

So here I must thank a few people. My core knitting girls: You let me be me and provide support whenever needed, you let me sit in silence while I stitch or you let me ramble on about my day, worries, goals, tid-bits, or what have you, when I just can't be silent any longer. You allow me to explore new things like dancing, river trips, or just a plain fun night out on the town when least expected. To my friends who have been with me for years: You have gone through the mood swings, listened to the talk, and I hope now you will see the action. To my family: Mom you always put things in perspective. And yes I am scared of success, because with it comes responsibility and it intimidates me, I don't want to fail. To Dad, thanks for teaching me that when you fall off your bike, you just have to get back up again, and if you fall down the mountain at least you attempted the climb.

So here I come, (1) volunteer work--in progress, (2) stepping outside and putting myself in unfamiliar territory in a city I am so familiar with--a continuing movement, (3) owning up to myself and my passions--never going to end, (4) walking that first mile and ready to begin jogging the second--Oh Yeah! "Just Do It!"**, (5) never writing your last goal to be "to own up to your dreams and desires"--IT SHOULD ALWAYS BE THE FIRST!--corrected.

**Note to self: You may hit a bump in the road, or trip over your shoelace while sprinting the last mile, but never let that stop you from getting up, taking a moment and a sip of water, to finish the race. It wasn't the Hare that won, it was the Tortoise who persevered and kept going. Follow your dreams: "Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you may land among the stars."

Dreams, Goals, and Applications

The past few days have been very interesting. I have been pushing myself to gain a career. This means resume after resume, cover letter after cover letter, e-mails after e-mails have been made. It's almost a full time job to find someone that will hire you. And lately the response has all been the same--NOTHING. No note to say thanks for your interest, but sorry we can't/won't be hiring you. Just NOTHING. It becomes a bit frustrating to say the least, and yet my pursuit continues.

Then last night, I sat on top of a mountain side late in the wee-hours of the morning with two wonderful friends, and a bunch of strangers, to watch as rocks came skidding into the atmosphere. Treats in a picnic basket, a blanket, and fresh baked cookies helped me open my eyes to the heavens. As we sat staring to the darkened sky, even the glitter of stars couldn't be as enjoyable, as laughing together when joke upon joke came from our mouths. I realized something. I was content. I came home and as I entered that portal of a door to my lonely sanctuary I call home, I spoke aloud and said, "Well, I just had the perfect day." And I realized it was true.

This morning I woke-up and took my time with everything I did. Even my morning cereal was a delight to be enjoyed. And as I followed my feet down the hill on 200 South, I thought about my dreams, my goals, and which applications to send out next in the sweltering heat.

My thought it is that I need to become something. It is probably everyones dream to be admired for what they do. To make a name for themselves. To be given the chance to shine. And then I sat outside with my raspberry Italian soda (with a splash of cream) and opened my computer to check my e-mail only to find yet again, NOTHING.

And so I walked home. Hot and sweaty, thinking what to do next. How do I get a response. A response of any kind. And as nothing came to mind I sat in my room, in the heat, and zoned in front of the T.V. Wanting cooler temps I found a movie to go to and drove downtown to sit in air-conditioning to watch Julie & Julia.

It was a good movie, a good one. Maybe it was the love of cooking, maybe it was the refreshing air, maybe it was the buttered popcorn. Who knows but when I walked out of the theater and into the cool summer night air, I realized something. It's not about becoming someone, its recognizing that you already are someone. I do shine. I am somebody.

I already have a name for myself, and it is one that people don't usually forget. On the mountain top last night, I was me, laughing, eating, and gazing into an environment I hold so dear, and a friend told me I was her Mom away from Mom. In the past I hated this statement. I didn't want to be the Mom of my friends. But this afternoon I realized it's not about the title, it's about the nature. I am a caring person that wants to experience and share the world around them with others. I am a girl who tries to always put others first. And I am a person who wants to help others achieve their dreams.
Now all this might sound very ME, ME, ME, but as Julie said in the movie, "Isn't that what a blog is." So this blog is for me. My name is Denver and I already have more than NOTHING.