Staying Up Late

I detour from my normal morning path home. Today, I am "staying up late" rather than rushing home to sleep.

While it is true that Fridays are prime time for such a diversion, as I am simply recovering from one overnight, not also preparing for the next, I don't often make plans, except those that involve a cozy bed. Yet, on this day, I find myself "having coffee," and staying far longer than my post-overnight body generally allows. On this day, engagement outweighs exhaustion. On this day, I am like a kid who can't see the need of going to sleep when there is so much exciting stuff out there still to do.

What I tell people about my overnight work is that it works great--as long as I am vigilant about managing my sleep. On this day, however, I am reminded that vigilance must sometimes give way to involvement. On this day, I remember that sometimes, what we experience when we stay up late (whether "late" is in the night or the day) fulfills us as much as the sleep we are missing. I accept--no, celebrate--a "stay up late" conversation, the memory of which invigorates me, even when I am tired.

As any energetic toddler or teenager will tell you, sometimes, you just HAVE to stay up late...

On Any Given Day

Did you ever notice that soaps almost never had specific days? Sure, there might be an episode that didn't advance the story much, and, therefore, aired on a Tuesday. And there might be the requisite Friday cliffhanger. But you never quite knew what day it was in the characters' lives. Even Christmas, which might take place over several episodes, never aired on Christmas (a network preemption day). And it never, ever seemed as though there were weekends.

Life isn't like that, and consequently, neither is blogging about life. While some moments lived or lessons learned are the same whether on a Monday or a Friday, others could only happen on the day when they happen. So, if I am scrambling to catch up, I am given away. And if I am attempting to process life in "real time," but two days later, it shows. Were I living in Llanview or Pine Valley, this would all be "to be expected." In real life, we don't have that luxury.

So, we bound up toward, or sleepwalk through, our Mondays. And we live for, or scramble to finish in time for, our Fridays. And we relish the change of, or dread the inertia or chaos of, our weekends. And we look at life both as a series of days whose names don't much matter and as a series whose names make all the difference in the world.

It is...whatever day it is, and I am reminded that some stories are worth telling, even a day or two after they happened...or mattered...

Soundtrack

For all the diehard One Lifers, a trip down memory lane...

There was a time when the soundtrack of my life was "Let The River Run," as I commuted in sneakers (and changed into heels) for a job that was just the beginning. Soon, it became "Kokomo," as I marveled at watching a group to which I'd listened for years perform right in front of me at work. In an instant, the soundtrack changed to "Here's To The Shows," a campy anthem poking fun at, yet celebrating, the medium where I was lucky enough to spend my (sometimes very long) days. Social issue storylines reminded me that "There Will Come A Time," and music-driven ones made me feel "No Ways Tired." I bopped down the street humming about "Cheerleaders in Hollywood..." (actual title left out for obvious reasons), and as a parent, I cried tears of joy through "Where Do We Go Now?"

These days, my soundtrack is a little different. After all, news is not too full of music, unless you count quick opening titles and coverage of the latest pop or rap singer. If I'm not listening to tunes from musicals I have seen, or may be working too much to have time to see, I'm likely to be humming "Last Night, I Couldn't Get To Sleep," "Fly By Night," or "Midnight Blue." I guess overnights will do that to you.

Do I miss what my soundtrack used to be? Perhaps. After all, how many people get to go to work where the tune changes so much over the years? But the soundtrack of my past fills me with all sorts of good memories. And it reminds me that, no matter where you end up, there can always be a reason to sing.

Present and Protect

One of the trickiest parts of a freelance world (or, perhaps, any work world that changes) is the need to be both eager in the face of opportunity and self-protective in the face of disappointment. Do you want (or even just need) whatever is being offered? If you don't appear as though you do--really do--you are unlikely to get it. You research, you prepare, you practice, you anticipate. You are ready--in appearance, in attitude, in availability. Yet, odds being what they are in the job market, all of your top-notch preparation and unbridled enthusiasm may be met with no result at all. And, while rejection is rarely a good thing, the fall you take from that high limb you put yourself out on can be a long one, its impact literally crushing.

So, how do we present our best selves while protecting our best selves from the blow?

We commit to the possibility of life change, but don't change our lives until someone commits to us.

We do our homework, but we don't allow our well-being to depend on the grade.

We smile when we go in, and we stay smiling when we come out. Because smiling isn't just about how we present ourselves to others, it's about how we live with ourselves when there's no one to present to.

And we don't change ourselves for real until there's really something to change for.

Between presentation and protection, there is a best self that we can live with. And in a world in which we are regularly called upon to choose one or the other, we can be far more content when we opt for both.

Getting In, Part 365: Moving Out

It has not been a whole 365 days since my daughter began her first year of college--college doesn't work that way. But it has been just over a year since we made her going official. After months of applying and waiting and visiting and agonizing, we made the decision that began the path on which she has spent her last eight months. And I think it is fair to say that it has been a success.

I think back on all the moments and months of stress and uncertainty, and I can see now that they were a blip--though, admittedly, a powerful blip--in the long sequence of life.

I think back on all the moments when the process felt as though it would never end, and I can see now that while it may have ended eventually, it was really more of a beginning.

I think back on how all-encompassing the year of "getting in" felt, and I realize now that those months of "all-encompassing" were just preparation for the life changes that are, well, all-encompassing.

I suppose that "getting in," whether it's into kindergarten, or into middle school (yes, we do that here in NYC), or into high school or college or the work force, is never just about the "getting in." Ultimately, it's about how you manage when you're finally in. And here, in what might feel like "Getting In, Part 365," I am happy to report that both the "getting in" and the "being in" could be called a success.

Don't Stop

I blink, and a week has passed since we were surrounded by people from near and far, sharing a celebration that was so long in the works, I barely remember its beginnings. A week has passed since the moments of anticipation and the moments of last-minute details and the moments of joy. And, because the week has not so much "passed" as "flown," I have not actually paused much to consider it. As usual, there have been other matters to handle, other decisions to make, other endeavors to chase. And little time to stop and process before the week flew by. 

And, as I finally stop--or pause, because a stop is rarely a full stop--I wish I were in motion again. For, while it is good to appreciate, and warming to remember the smiles and imprint the snapshots in your memory, it is practically unbearable to realize that what was in the future for so long is now in the past. While it is invigorating to have done, it is practically paralyzing to BE done. 

And so we move on--to the next event, the next excitement, the next challenge. We look at the pictures, and we retell the stories, but not without creating new stories at the same time. We celebrate, but we don't stop, because that is how we keep going. Glancing backward, but looking, and moving, forward. Because that is how life goes on. And who would really want that to stop...?

And We Grow

We achieve milestones that, for so long, seemed so far away. And we grow.

We accomplish what we weren't sure we could. And we grow.

We smile a little, and cry a little. And we grow.

We celebrate the passage of time, and we mourn it as well. And we grow.

We learn from the last time, and try to do better this time. And we grow.

We watch children get bigger, and smile over pictures taken when they were littler. And we grow.

We yell a little (or a little too much), and we hug a little. And we grow.

We let go a little, and hold on a little. And we grow.

We support and encourage, and then step back a little. And we grow.

We get through the great things, and we get through the not so great things. And we grow.

We live each day, and we make it to the next. And we grow.