It's hard to believe that so much has happened this year and it's hard for me to believe so much time has passed. Fortunately/Unfortunately, I've been working so hard that it's difficult for me to really see the details of everything that's passed so quickly, but I try really hard to hold on to those nuggets. My short term memory is excellent. Long term? Notsomuch.
That's what diaries are for. ...I should totally start keeping one of those.
Since I drive a lot, I listen to a lot of podcasts. Mostly business stuff- specifically KCRW's The Treatment, The Spin-Off, The Business, The Hollywood Breakdown; and IndieWire. On non "working" days I listen to the more fluffy stuff- RadioLab, The Nerdist, Ted Talks, Talkin' Toons, and most importantly: Serial. (Oh man. I have SO MANY FEELINGS about Serial.)
One of the big ones I like to listen to for a brain-quieter is anything on Moth Radio. I have this dream that one day I'm going to be able to put into words all of the feelings that I feel so strongly. They're going to be perfect, eloquent, poetic, and inspiring. Specifically, I have dreams of doing spoken word. Sarah Key....please teach me your ways.
As a very white, mostly middle class, showtune singing lady, I'm not the MOST excellent at things that involv rhythm, beat, or rap. While I'm more than capable of singing the entirety of "Ice Ice Baby" to you at the drop of a hat- that might be the extent of my rapping/rhythmic speaking abilities.
Today I was listening to a really great story on Moth that got me to start thinking. Why am I not writing more stories about MYSELF? I use the things that I know and the things that I see for inspiration in my fictional writing pactically non-stop. I'm a people watcher and observer with lots of opinions about the happenings around me. What about the happenings in my own life, though? Why aren't those as important to me?
[sidebar: my sister's boyfriend has decided that if my family had a crest it would read: "The Hollstens: A good people, albeit underwhelmed by their own accomplishments."]
With all of this reflection of time passing I realize that I have no measure by which to guage my growth as a person in the past two years of this class. My lack of journaling is starting to make me sad. What memories have I lost and what special moments have whipped by me? I've accomplished gallons, met incredible people, loved, bonded, and grown. There may not be a ton of specific moments to prove my gain, but the growth is definitely there.
If you were to ask me two years ago "How would you describe yourself in one sentence?" I couldn't have answered you. Frankly, one sentence is probably still too concise for me right now, but I'm on the verge of really nailing it down. Basically, what's the essence of my brand? Quirky, Unassuming, Caring Girl Next Door? Nice girl, cares too much, lives too little? Artsy-fartsy gal always down for a laugh? Texas manners meets big city spunk?
A Working Group has changed my life in more ways than I could ever describe. These people- my tribe and family in this group- have molded me into a more self-assured, serene, and creative artist. They've taught me about the love and support- and most importantly the understanding- it takes for an artist to find their way in this wackadoodle madness.
Every time we've lost a member of the group to the next stage in their lives I start to resent the little niggly hole that lives where their presence used to. I worry that without them I won't be able to keep moving forward in this journey I refer to as my "life-coaching." Change and I don't agree much. Maybe that's the aries in me.
It's time to start documenting my own journies. This blog is a huge step in that direction- but the idea of sharing MY stories is pretty intimidating. That takes letting people in to my heart blindly and taking a leap. Most of my stories are probably not interesting enough to keep anyone thinking about them for more than a second after they're done reading. But then there are the amazing stories that make me smile, cry, laugh, or inwardly rage when I think about them. Those are the stories I need to share.
New goal: write a story about my life to perform on a stage. Maybe the Moth stage. Maybe a one-woman show. Don't worry about the rhythm...just the story.
...I can totally do this.
Let me add it to my to-do list for April:
48) write a perfect, life changing story to share with the world.
49) nail down the essence of me in one sentence.
50) World Peace.