I have been a bit blocked this week. I did not feel moved to write. I am irregular with my BM (blog message) at best, but this week I definitely had a blockage. I think part of the reason is that one of my favorite people in the world "First Wife" to anyone who reads the comments (which by the way are way funnier than my blogs), used the "M" word. No, not "migger", that would not make sense. She said "money". Well, technically I said it first. But I just never thought anyone paid that much attention to anything I said and so I was shocked when "First" seconded the motion. So maybe I let the idea spook me. (And First, give me a second, I know you're out there, if you're serious, don't put your wallet away just yet...let me work this out, First).
As much as I need money and as fun as life can be if you have it, I think I hate the stuff. Just the word makes me crawl. I am not sure why that is. I think it is because money is what grown ups get all serious and stupid about. Money ruins everything and makes crazy people do crazy things when people in their family die. Money is supposed to be the root of all evil and yet it is talked about all through the Bible so although we are not supposed to think too much about it we are supposed to think a lot about it because we're supposed to do something with it but only the right thing, which would take so much thought on my part it would be hard to know if I had thought too much about it so I choose not to risk it and try not to think about it at all. Doing bad things with money is horrific when we discover "good Christians" doing them more than almost anything that comes to mind they could be doing (I am not letting altar boys come to mind so don't you either). So, since I want to be good and not horrific and since I consider myself an artist and think being a starving artist is cool (except the hungry part which is why I am an over fed starving artist) and the starving kids and small house part (which is why I married a man who did not think being a starving artist is cool and could do other things that people get paid for) and although I am only really starving in the fashion sense, since I am starving for clothes that anyone would respect me or my family in, I am technically only poor in an embellishment sense. I have shoes, I just don't have pedicured toes in those shoes. And our only vacations are once a year to go home to Mommy and even for that I always have to rob Peter to pay Paul (who does not need it because he is doing horrific things with money but what are you going to do when Paul has the only airline in town?)
Which brings me back to getting in shape by Christmas so in case I run into anyone from my highschool they will see that even though I am a music nerd I am still cool and they will still vote me homecoming queen as opposed to coming home queen sized and being caught with my butt in the cookie aisle. I was floored and stunned by the prospect of not only having the money to go home but having the incentive to get in shape before I go home. I think the offer is amazing and if it really is real I am going to make it happen and be completely grateful for it. If this comes to pass, I will be blogging about how to get in shape by Christmas on the dangling carrot diet later, but right now I am trying to figure out why the thought of money makes me stop blogging and so I want to blog to think about money and why I don't want to think about money. I think that requires some digging through the fertilizer of my life.
I married a grown up. Until a couple of years ago, I was willing to just let him do all the grown up stuff while I played with the kids. That was probably not a great idea. It never works to marry your dad nor to be the dad of a kid you married. We've been working on that. So I have been on a crash course to learn about money and have even started thinking about earning some of it myself. The problem is, everything I can do and am goodish at is fun. I suck at everything else. I never really had it in me. At the age of 18, a top student with promise, I decided to go into singing because even if I were not the most amazingly famous person I was sure I would be, "you can always sing at weddings and if I HAD to make money I may as well make it doing that". That was as much thought as I put into it. I decided where to go to school based on two questions, 1)"If I am going to sing I want to be the best ever, what is the number 1 school of music in the country?" and 2) "Since I need to be popular because it is important that I fit in always and never do anything weird, where can I still be 'cool' and not just a music nerd"? (I probably have not evolved from this mind set much. I'm as disgusted with me as you are, don't worry). That's why I chose the number one school of music which was in the top 5 of party schools. So basically I wanted to go to a school that required me to focus on music to the exclusion of everything else and then sabotage my efforts by trying to party too. That could have gone better.
Since then I have had a brazillion grown up jobs that I have quit for various reasons that had nothing to do with pay (I didn't like the chair at one place so I quit). No matter where I have worked, Music and writing "jobs" have been constant. I have written greeting card verses, I have composed 3 musicals, sung professionally and written and directed children's musicals. The amount of money I have gotten for these efforts (which has been all my effort because I love and believe in these things) has been less than $5,000 total probably. I work for praise. (You may have seen me at the mall standing around holding a sign that said that). Whenever an opportunity to make big $ comes along i feel obligated and unworthy and afraid.
Why am I telling this to whom it may concern and probably does not concern? Probably because I need to out myself as a 10 year old (trapped in the body of a 40 year old who, if you have read other blogs of mine, is trapped in so many other bodies it would make your head spin at the thought of an orgy of 1). When it comes right down to it, whenever someone hands me money or I have to go to the bank or something I feel like saying, "You should NOT give this kind of thing to a child!" I have been VERY poor and was very comfortable in that role. I liked the edge. It felt virtuous and deep and spiritual. I liked how it felt to be the only one in gov't housing with a piano and a degree in opera. I like being in situations where I defy the odds and contradict my package. (Kind of like the 10 year old quoting Shakespeare while walking on a tight rope over lava).
I feel like an imposter in a big house in a nice neighborhood doing fancy things, kind of like how I feel in pointy shoes and a "Sunday go to meeting" dress. Just WRONG. The weird thing is I never feel jealous of the success of others (except when I did not get an invitation to Oprah's ball recently honoring everyone who has ever contributed to the world. Which by the way really upset me because I always thought I WOULD contribute to the world by this age. I felt like a loser for a week until I realized that had I been invited I would have had to miss my daughter's softball picnic in order to go and I would not have wanted to have to make that choice and would have probably had to choose my daughter over Oprah and since I could not go anyway it was just as well she did not invite me). I almost never feel out of place around people who have grown up fancy stuff cause basically I feel out of place everywhere anyway and usually just default to something I can do that not very many people can do and decide I am unique, not weird and then I don't feel out of place anymore. No, when I am with wealthy people, I just think it is cool they let me play with their toys and look at their cool stuff and I am mostly just awed by the things they can do or have done to get them (like balance their checkbooks for starters) and I feel lucky they let me come over and play with them.
I guess what scares me about getting my own money is that I might have to play with my own ball in my own yard all alone. Or maybe I don't play well with others and don't want to share or maybe someone once stole my ball and I don't want to chance feeling that sense of loss. Or maybe as my mother in law said (one of the many tender things she said to me over the years) I am just allergic to work. What a load of crap.
Speaking of crap, now that I have worked this out I have loosened up enough to be a little more regular in my future blogging activity. This blog was a little rough to read I suspect and may make you stop reading, but since this is always all about me and for me, I need to make time for this roughage to keep me going. It's all just mental crap anyway. It's not like I sat down a lot this week and couldn't produce. I never even tried. I have been busy with other things, like unloading and sorting all the crap we moved into our new house. There is only so much crap one can dump in any given week after all. And having just dumped a large load I may not blog again for another week. But I feel so much better for having done so. Sorry if it stinks. I don't mind it so much. It's my crap. I'm used to it.