abundance · family · healing · relationships · synchronicity

Sacred Bonds and Hybrid Cars

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Today I went to the 2nd in a series of workshops
led by a friend of mine on relationships. The series is Relationship with Self,
Others, the Divine, and Spiritual Contracts and Inner Archetypes.
So, today was “Others”. I trust this woman implicitly, and
have been through several workshops and retreats with her over the past … could
it be 4 years? Maybe. In any case, I was interested to see what would come up,
especially as I’m doing all this Calling in The One work, etc.
The most poignant, and new, information was around my ideas
of what a “girlfriend”, as archetype, as character, as a “should”, should be.
After writing for other archetypes of Mother, Husband, Friend, qualities like
consistent, loving, supportive, independent but available, etc., it was a shock
to see me write under Girlfriend: sexy, happy, giving, available, demur. …
It
is not a surprise then that I’ve been a serial single person! If my belief is
that in order to be a girlfriend, I must demur, be happy and sexy and giving
and available to the other person at all times … yeah, it’s no wonder I’m
single.
The other thing that came up was around my mom, with whom I
haven’t spoken on the phone with for about 6 months, following a, well, an
inappropriate conversation – one which she really has no idea was
inappropriate. And I wasn’t able to say as much then, so I did like I do and I
shut down, and haven’t spoken to her in 6 months. We text now and then, just so
we know each other is not dead, but going to a dry well for water is one thing
(I’ve sort of stopped) – having that well knock on your door and say what’s up
how come you haven’t asked me for water lately is maddening.
In the workshop, I later wrote down how my experience of “mother” actually is, versus my “should”s: narcissistic, over-worker,
self-involved, NEEDY, isolated, sad, doomed …
I then wrote how “daughter” actually is: burned, exhausted,
done, tired, untrusting.
And again, it’s no surprise then that I haven’t spoken to
her in 6 months! And yet I judge myself on it all the time. I should
be nicer, call her, love her, talk to her, listen to her … I get depleted just
thinking about it. But even so, Super Molly thinks it’s the role of a daughter
to talk to her mom – no matter what. Human Molly tries one more time to not be
disappointed, to set boundaries, to stay on her own side of the street, and
gets walloped, time and again.
Last week, I told Patsy, my spiritual teacher/friend lady, that I
had to write a “Renegotiating Old Agreements” letter to my mom – that I wanted
to – that I’m warming up to the idea of getting in touch with her again, but
that first I want to be clearer on a few things within myself. She said, how
about you do it for next week – I cringed. She said it was just a suggestion –
and here it is Saturday night, and I meet with her tomorrow, so maybe I’ll do
it on the train – but I will write it. Because it does feel crappy to not talk
to my mom – the mom I have is not the mom I want, but I would love to
renegotiate an agreement where I can communicate with the one I have in a way
where I don’t get depleted …
Come to think of it, in a similar way to how I believe a
girlfriend gets depleted. Hmm…
Thank you for reading my therapy session. (Kate, I swear
there’s traction!)
In other news, so, the Universe is obviously actively
listening to me. About a month ago, in rearranging my room per CITO, I had need of a 2nd bedside table, one
that would match my first (sort of country-style wood painted white). I’d been
semi-on the hunt for one, and in a very synchronistic manner, I ended up at a
garage sale with the *perfect* matching table – white, with a drawer, and
country details. Evidence one.
Evidence Two: the blind date – I’ve asked for a tall,
handsome, employed Jewish man – and I got it – but whoa, buddy, I guess ‘not a
douchebag’ wasn’t on my list, and I didn’t specify taller than me, so…
Evidence 3: the perfect purple wool pea coat. Done – and for cheap!
Evidence 4 … For the last week, I’ve been bemusedly thinking of getting a car, coveting them on the street, looking at some
online, and I found a new lovely hybrid car online for the mere price of almost
$30,000. So in realizing that I’ve gotten evidences One Two and Three,
guess what I’ve been doing the past 3 days? Asking the Universe for a hybrid car or $30,000! (Although it was pointed out to me that having a car again may not solve my time-debting problem, as was clear to me when I rented a zip car yesterday…TO GET TO CLASS! f*ck.)
But, in the mail today when I come home is a pre-approved auto
loan junk mail for … $30,000. No lie. I guess I have to be really specific
these days (“$30,000 with no strings attached, and no one dies”).
Thank you Universe for listening, I’ll be more conscious
hybridcarhybridcarworkingingoodshapehybridcar of my intentions from now on. 😉
acting · action · joy · laughter · performance · responsibility

Let the sunshine in.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

I do a work/trade at the Dailey Method workout studio on
Friday mornings – it’s pretty harmless, except for the occasional bout of
entitlement from clientele or having to cover childcare with a usually wailing baby who knows his mom is in the next room and if he only
screams long enough, she’ll come. But, this morning, childcare lady came, there
weren’t any payment traffic jams in the 5-minute turn around between the morning classes,
and I had my Theater Bay Area magazine with
me. Highlighted.
The other night, I set my alarm clock for ten minutes, and
sat with a highlighter and the magazine. And opened it. I knew that if I had
too long, I’d feel overwhelmed, and 10 minutes felt like a good beginning. It
was actually easier than I’d thought, just reading through the descriptions of casting calls –
some were obviously not right for me – male, far away, or another ethnicity.
But a few were. 4, in fact. One was a reach, but I highlighted it any way: Lead
frontman in a The Who’s Tommy production
company. – But hey, I’m just highlighting, no need to rule any thing out. And
then my alarm went off, magazine closed.
So this morning, *thumpthump* *thumpthump* I took the
magazine out at my desk shift while class was going on, and… I sent 3 emails. (I
want to research the playwright for the 4th, as they were specific
about it, and I don’t know the name). I sent my small little actor’s resume and
my headshot a friend took for me in January, and a blurb about why I’m
interested, and can’t wait to meet you, yadda yadda.
I’ve done this. I’ve sent out at least a thousand resumes in
my working day. I know how to fashion a cover letter. So, I did. And I send the
Roger Daltrey one too. – That one, I got a response to right away – he said
they’d filled that slot, but were still looking for an Acid Queen and/or
backup. I said, count me in. Who knows, he said they have someone interested in
managing their group who needs to see the new Daltrey, and probably won’t start
going until mid-December, more yadda yadda, so, no high hopes. But I did it – I made baby
steps.
Actually, I think proposing that I’d be a great frontman to
your production is a major leap, and perhaps I need to learn to mitigate
better, so I can stay realistic, hopeful, but realistic, and not stamp out my
own dream by taking too-large, developmentally inappropriate steps – but that
said, I was glad I replied to the ad, because it might lead to something else.
Like anything, this is a game of persistence. And so, great, I sent out 3
emails – one bounced back! – but I have one more to send, and other work to do
as assigned/suggested by my actress friend.
However… tonight, me and two of my girl friends went to see
HAIR in SF, and at the end of the play, you can go up on stage to dance with
the band and all the other audience and cast members – and so as me and my two
friends jiggled around to the finale song, laughing and loving it, I told myself to get used to the
heat of those lights. 

abundance · creativity · fear · joy · maturity

T.I.M.E: Twisted Ideas Miraculously Erased

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Feeling decidedly better today. And I realize that “decide”
is the key word there.
I awoke this morning, early, again (although, yes, I do
realize that 6am is not that early for some people!), and as I was writing my
Morning Pages, and staring at my clock, and writing “I have to figure out
how to manage my time better, I spend 5 minutes grumbling out of bed, and 2
minutes heating up my coffee, and 15 minutes on my morning pages – though
really they take 30, so I scrimp on days when there isn’t time…”
And I sort of went off on this vein, but somewhere in the
middle I decided to simply take the full time it was going to take and write all
three long-hand pages of my morning pages. Somewhere in there, I was struck
with the thought that I have been treating time like I’ve treated money – addressing it from
a place of scarcity instead of abundance. As something I have to struggle for and will never have enough of. When I was done with the pages, I
stood up, and although technically this would be the moment in the morning
where I would bolt a shower and stream out the door with wet hair, I said
aloud, “I’m hungry.” … then I answered myself, “Then you should eat.”
And so I did. I cooked my eggs, like I’m known to do, and I
sat and ate them and drank my cup of coffee, not at a brunch-y leisurely pace,
but not shoveling them down either. Something had unlatched in the region of my
guts, and I was consciously reminding myself to breathe, and that I was giving
myself this time. “There is enough time, There is enough love, There is enough
money” are some affirmations my little financially savvy friends use 😉 (They also use “I am enough, I have enough, I do enough” – crazy notions, huh??) Then I
took a shower and it took as long as it took. I had my clock in the bathroom,
but at this point, I was past the time I would usually catch the reliable bus,
and had somewhere inwardly agreed that I would take the unreliable bus and
whatever happened would happen.  ~
I even blowdried my hair – I haven’t done that in the morning before work in …
a while. It’s a luxury of time (but also helps to keep me healthy in winter months). Then I did my makeup and got dressed, and got a
snack ready for work, so I knew I’d have something to eat and not starve again.
And I walked out of the house – two days ago, I literally
(well, not literally I guess!) flew down
the stairs and nearly knocked into the person also going out the front door at
that moment. But this morning, I walked. In my purple coat and teal scarf and
green bag, and warm hair and world-ready face. And you know what? I ran into a
friend as I was walking to the unreliable bus, and I asked him if I could get a
ride to BART, and he said it was about time I took him up on his many offers
for a ride.
And I got to work 10 minutes late. Only ten minutes late. But the difference between how I
walked in made all the difference in the world. Sure, maybe next time, I’ll get
there in better time, but somehow, the minute yet immense change in my attitude toward my time – how I was
spending it – addressing it – and now hopefully making it work for me, instead
of breathing erratically in the face of a ticking clock – hopefully this will
turn into change. Not feeling like I’ve got a vice on my heart and being
preemptively guilty about not being “where I’m supposed to be, when I’m
supposed to be” feels like a good start.
And, by the way, I got let out of work early (for a work
errand, so I was told I can still bill my full time), and I went to BLICK art
supply store and bought envelopes for my holiday cards – because under the
decreased pressure in my temples, I get to be creative. And give myself time to
be so. 
Holiday card #2: watercolor&embossing on paper 🙂
balance · integrity · responsibility · school · self-care

“Anty needs a recharge.”

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

There’s a scene in Honey, I Shrunk the Kids when the kids are riding an enormous ant through the
jungle of their backyard, and the ant starts to slow down, his antennae droop,
and the mouthy next-door neighbor kid says the above line.
My alarm went off at 6am, like it does on the 3 days I
commute from Oakland to SF for work, and you know that puffy-eyed “whoa buddy,
you do not have my permission to get up yet – tank not full” feeling?
I knew that I would have to go straight from work to school
tonight, as it’s Wednesday, and I have my Shakespeare class at night and don’t get home till 10pm – and the classes are really small, like 10 or 12
people, so I always feel the need to contribute something coherent – last week,
we went around stating what our final projects were going to be, and when we
got to me, punch-drunk with fatigue and having not given it any thought
yet, I said I would write a project where Juliet gets reincarnated as Buffy the
Vampire Slayer. 😉 I then laughed and said I was kidding, but surprisingly,
people seemed to like the idea! I don’t think I’ll do it – but it’s SO strange
to be in a class where we’re reading theory and textual criticism and analyzing
rhetorical forms, and that could actually be considered a viable final project.
We’re allowed to do a creative one, which seems so strange to me – when I was
in undergrad, your “books cited” page pretty much made your grade. That said,
my midterm was a farcical letter to Romeo (with works cited!), so…
In any case, I woke up this morning unable to face such a full day – so I called out till
noon. I said they could call me if that was a problem, and I felt guilty, but I
also knew how completely unavailable – and cranky – I am without enough sleep.
So, I went back to bed until 10am and went in to work – where I felt like a
little kid, waiting to be chastised for doing something wrong (I wish I didn’t
react like that when I stand up for my needs! – but i do), and lo and behold,
my boss was totally cool, and acted as nice to me as always, and gave me work,
and i folded fabric and booked fancy hotel rooms for other people, and that was
that. Not a big deal. People
understand that other people are human – I’m usually the one who doesn’t get
that. “I’m only human,” was my mantra as I was walking into work this morning,
feeling like a bad schoolgirl.  –
and not in the sexy way. Although I was wearing my brand new purple coat, and I
felt like the jewel colored woolen equivalent of a rock star 😉
After work, BART was late with a medical emergency, so I
missed the shuttle to school, and by this point I’m starving, as I only had
breakfast before work and some cookies at work, because I felt like I couldn’t leave to get real food because I had to “make up” for the fact I came in late.
So, I’m hungry, tired, and then the bus that I can take to school instead of
the shuttle is late – and I know I’ll be late to class, and I have
to buy food no matter what.
So … I skiv off. I didn’t go to class. Gasp.  It’s
not such an awful thing, I’ve been there every time except once when I was back
east, and I got a pretty good grade on my midterm, but, I had had it. So, I trudge up the hill to the grocery store by my house and fill up at the hot food bar on
an enormous load of heavy comfort food of creamed yams and mac&cheese and come home and collapse with an episode of Glee.
All this serves to tell me is that something’s gotta give.
I’m not sure what yet, but calling in to work late, cutting class, and
overeating to make up for malnourishment are signs to me that there’s some
aspect of self-care and balance that is seriously missing here. It may not seem
like “that big a deal,” and individually, these things are not – but I didn’t
go to class on Friday either – and I’m not paying what I’m paying in tuition to
not go to class – or to feel so depleted. Besides, I actually like school and my classes, and I want to go! It’s why I’m going in the first place!
So, I’m not sure what needs to give yet. There are only 3
more sessions of this Wednesday class before winter break. But, I don’t think I
can do what I’m doing like this anymore – even for 3 weeks – that’s three weeks
more than anyone should spend exhausted, cranky, and poorly fed. Anty needs a
recharge.   

action · adulthood · faith · joy · letting go

Compensation

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

A friend once told me that the Universe gives us
compensations. This was after I’d just spent an emotionally, mentally,
physically, and spiritually bankrupting week at my family home in NJ last month – I was
there to clean out my childhood room as my dad and his fiancé have purchased a
new construction home in Florida and plan to move there in April, so he is
clearing out the house to get it ready for sale.
He was going to yoke my brother into the task of clearing
out my room – and somehow, not really being sure if I’d cleared out all the sex
toys, drugs, or writings about such things – and in addition wanting the
experience and process of the ritual of “leaving my childhood home” – I made a
snap decision to buy a flight home in October. My dad’s not really a
sentimental kind of guy, and wasn’t really getting that it was an emotional
thing that the house I grew up in – that we shared a family life & history
in – was about to be sold.
That same friend also told me that her parents had sold her
childhood home without her packing up her things, and that if my dad wanted to
clear it out, then whatever he found was his own fault/problem, and that
although it sort of sucked that she didn’t get to do it herself, it happened,
and it was what it was. But, luckily, I knew I had the money, and there was a
cheap deal on a flight, and off I went… to a whirlwind of entirely fucked up.
In describing the state of the house to friends once I
returned to SF, two people asked word for word “Was anyone living there??” And
my answer was yes – yes, two adult men, my dad and my brother, were there,
living in a home that had dead flies on all the window sills, dead bugs caught
in the scum of the oven hood, beyond the forever unmowed, uninviting lawn. You
remember when I said we never had people over growing up? Yeah, my house was
not the entertainment house. It has gotten significantly worse since my mom
moved out ten years ago after my parents’ divorce, and to be fair, my dad has
been splitting his time between his own home (he kept the house – my mom is a
city dweller by very nature) and his fiance’s home, and keeping up the
maintenance of a barely used home is a trial. Plus, my brother had been away at
graduate school until last year, so … The house reflects the loneliness and neglect.
I did a lot of work before I went home on untying my
identification with the house – if it only had more attention, love,
consideration of its assets, it could be beautiful, exciting, a success. I was
livid that the 200-year-old oak tree in the front lawn was now rotting, and
will have to come down before the house is sold – its roots had died; I felt
personally affronted by this.
So, I went home – to pack, but also to make peace with all of that. With the deep depression, the anger, the
resentment, the despair that house witnessed. To make peace with the shattered
door frame to my bedroom as it was once attempted to be kicked down. And also,
to thank it. To honor what was, what it sheltered, what it witnessed, and then
to let it go.
I did sort of well – no, I did as absolutely as massively
well as I possibly could in the situation. When on a streaming tears emergency
phone call to an SF friend, she asked me what more I could be doing at that
moment (We’d just come back from visiting my dad’s parents in Queens – and
their home is, without any exaggeration, a fertile candidate for an episode of
“Hoarders”, … and some very strong meds). I thought about what more I could be
doing at that moment, and the answer was nothing; I was doing absolutely everything
I knew to do in moments of distress – Once we’d gotten home from Queens, I went
out for a long walk, I called my spiritual teacher lady (who said we all have a
Grey Gardens branch of the family tree)
😉 and I made plans to go to dinner with a girl friend who knew my situation.
So, I told my friend on the phone, I was literally doing all that I could be
doing – and I knew then, that that had to be enough. I was fucking
uncomfortable – I was sad, anguished at the
state of my family’s homes, of their comfort with or ambivalence toward or
simply paralyzing despair in the face of such obvious … sickness. Yes, I was
uncomfortable, but I also was doing the very best I could – that had to be
enough.
So, I went to dinner with a girl friend; I cleared out my
childhood room (there was only one book of porn and no drugs!); and I saged the
damn place – because I don’t want no bad jujus hangin’ out there in NJ while
I’m all the way back here in CA.
And I came home.
In the tiny window of my layover in Detroit, I get a phone call
from the temp agency in SF asking me if I want to work at the interior design
firm again – I could start the very next day. … Having cleared out the old, I made way for the new.
And so my wise, wonderful, now-Brooklynite friend told me
upon hearing this story: “The Universe gives us compensations.”
The reason I wrote today’s blog on this? This afternoon I
found the most perfectly ‘couldn’t be more perfect’ purple wool coat that I’ve
been actively envisioning, believing in, and hunting down for the last month –
on sale. And after the blind date disappointment, I remember her words, and
smile joyfully at my plum compensation. 😉
courage · dating · honesty · integrity · intuition · laughter · performance

Make ’em Laugh

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

I just texted the blind date guy to politely decline his
invitation for a second date. Beforehand, when I presented my case to my best guy friend saying that I just wasn’t
sparked by the coffee date but maybe I should try a second date, he said that ambivalence wasn’t a good sign.

So, if it’s not a good sign, it’s a bad one. And although my
gut had been telling me even before the date that I was having misgivings, I am a Libra –
and I need to thoroughly weigh everything from every angle until my head
explodes – This usually happens several times per month, or per day if I’m
overtired ;P
That isn’t precisely true – I’ve gotten more used to
listening to the voice of my intuition, the longer it hasn’t told me things
like “another line would *really* make this party awesome” or “his girlfriend
isn’t here, so…” I have since learned that this voice may not have been my
intuition, but that’s what I interpreted it as for years, and so it’s taken me
a while to get accustomed to the idea that perhaps my gut isn’t trying to kill
me (my brain is another story).
That said, I spent a significant amount of time and
brainspace on second guessing my gut today. “How much can you know from a first
date, anyway?” It just felt beige. He
wasn’t funny. “Oh, everyone’s on their best behavior on a first date – you
can’t really know if he’s funny or not.” He didn’t make me laugh. “Wouldn’t you
know more if you went out again?”
Maybe, or maybe I’d learn more if I actually listened to my
gut for once instead of hitting the override switch. Build up that muscle of listening
to myself, trusting myself, and also, caveat – if it’s meant to happen again,
it will. … But I don’t think it will.
I was talking with my actress friend today for my
“informational interview/omigod this is hella scary” phone call, and I was
telling her that this performance thing is a gut thing that just hasn’t gone
away. I recently found an exercise from when I was doing The Artist’s Way three years ago – it was a list of “Forbidden Joys”
– things I would love to do, but am “not allowed.” And on it was “Audition for
a play.”
So, my friend told me that first, I would just need to start
auditioning, and likely fall flat on my face. I told her that I already did
do that. 
Earlier this year, I responded to a casting call on craigslist (you
can see how much credence I was willing to give to my gut!). We were asked to
prepare a monologue and a song – as although this wasn’t a musical, the
director believed that having actors sing was a good way to see how they’d do
when they felt uncomfortable. … So, I prepared “Make ’em Laugh” from Singing
in the Rain – it’s a hilarious outlandish
routine by Donald O’Connor – and it is OVER-THE-TOP.
See, I’ll show them how not uncomfortable this makes me! … Turns out, I made them quite
uncomfortable. Somewhere between the wildly gesticulating arm gestures and a
prat fall, I think I lost them. But hell, if it wasn’t hilarious … to me, at
least. Sure, I was a little disappointed – and I felt like I had totally blown
it by not being “more serious” or even a little serious – but for christ’s sake
the play was about a woman’s love affair with pot!
So I told this story to my actress friend, and she was
delighted! She said I’d already made a fool of myself, and lived (and laughed)
through it, so obviously I’m willing to try and fail – but I also have to be
willing to get out there again. So, she gave me some good advice and said I
could check in with her in a week, which seems like an awfully sweet thing, and
will help to keep me accountable to some of the tasks I have before me (buy a
monologue book – and that monthly subscription to Theater Bay Area I keep on shoving under my coffee table? take it out
and look at the casting calls in the back).
Because I want to be a woman who can be disappointed and
still follow my dreams, and my dreams also include a man who makes me laugh. 
p.s. just got a text back that said he was offering sex not dinner – that…makes me laugh. Thanks, gut!… + seriously?!
abundance · courage · dating · joy · letting go · love · performance · responsibility · self-care

weekend update.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

yesterday, I went to a “meditation & creative writing”
workshop with a friend from school, and although we both agreed we were ready
to leave at the lunch break, i got out some writing that needed to get out. my
friend said afterward that her qualm with workshops like those is that they
continue to bring people back into the very story they’re trying to let go of,
but for me, like I said in the “Excavation” blog, my writing isn’t about
spinning my wheels or wishing it were different anymore. I’ve found traction
on this stuff, but for me, for my process, it still needs to come up and out.
My friend/spiritual teacher lady said to me today that in
Buddhism, they talk about those things as blocks, things that are solid and we
knock up against and then back away from – and that they must become diluted
for us to move through them. And so, I hear what my friend is saying – and I
have certainly been there, simply hitting up against the bricks of my “story”,
but  – it feels different lately.
It doesn’t feel as solid, weighted, or shameful. There are still pieces that
need processing, but on the whole, I do feel I’m getting through to the other
side – the side where there is freedom and levity and possibility –
and action. To update on another item this week, I’ve scheduled phone conversations in the next week with those two working actors in SF I
mentioned – indeed giving not only voice to my desire to perform, but also
giving traction to that as well by actually putting in some action. Sure, I’m nervous
to head in this direction, as uncertain and as fraught with nay-sayers or
“realistic” people as it is (esp. when those people live in my head) – but it’s one of those internal nudges that hasn’t
gone away, and the longer that I listen to myself, the stronger it has become.
Sure enough, my electric guitar came out of the closet this
week. The bass came out with the amp a few months ago, the acoustic is out
always, as is the small keyboard that mainly gets used when i’m plunking out
notes for my singing class– but, they’re here. and like the performance thing, “singing in a rock and roll band” is not going away either, and it too is just getting
stronger. That’s another one I feel retarded talking about – like, who am i, i’m too old, too square, and what have i done and i don’t know that much music and i don’t
have enough tattoos. … but, sure, be ALL of that as it may – i still want to sing
in a band. i can fucking taste the metal of the microphone. do i know what kind
of music? – it’s becoming clearer – it’s not “pretty” singing. i don’t want to
sing pretty, I want to sing passionate – and if they intersect, which to a
point i imagine they will, then all the better, but i’m not looking to do
pretty – i’m looking to do raw. I wrote an email to a girl friend/acquaintance
lady about a year ago because i read some of her facebook updates and watched
her go through the same thing, and she emailed me back echoing that her teenage
rock girl just wouldn’t go away – and at some point we listen.
or perhaps we don’t, but that’s not my story – anymore.
so, true to CITO, my closet is getting cleared and
organized, and an entire drawer is now empty – because “the universe abhors a
vacuum”, so if you build it – or clear it – they will come. plus, I feel
mentally freer in some way, like how you feel when you go away on vacation and
know you’ll come back to a clean apartment (it was once suggested to me to put
dirty dishes in the fridge so they won’t rot when you’re away – and sadly, i
have done this!). or like in feng shui where you’re not supposed to have
anything under the bed, because even if out of sight, it is taking up “room” …
energetically 😉
to close out my updates for the week, i will also tell you
that I finally wrote that “renegotiating old agreements” letter to the cousin
this morning on my way into the city – and about an hour ago, I wrote the last line on one of the petals from the flowers I bought myself, and let it go out
the window (burning didn’t seem the “right” thing with this).
and finally, yes, I went on my blind date today – it wasn’t a disaster, and there
might be a second one. but in the meantime, i’m going to continue taking
these itty bitty actions: moving the instruments out, talking to people in the
field I want to be in, and completing exercises that help me see myself, my
blocks, and my gifts more clearly. 
Cuz, one month into being 30? Eat It, Saturn Returns! ~ I’m totally
learning my lessons on this go-round! 😛
Plus, I started those hand-made holiday cards I said I would too 😉
coffee · dating · integrity · love · self-care · sex

Sex of Rockstar and Death Rattle Varieties

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Tomorrow I go on a b l i n d date. As in I really have no
idea what the guy I’m meeting looks like. He’s a friend of an acquaintance who emailed me on facebook to go out to coffee, and his photo is one of those
cartoon/sketches of a photo – and the rest of his photos are private.
That said, I have to be in the city tomorrow anyway – I have
mild suspicion about the suitability of this person judging from my
conversation with our mutual acquaintance – and he may or may not have an
addiction to adderall – but that’s based on circumstantial evidence – or that’s
the term they’d use on t.v.
And secondly, in favor of coffee with a stranger, why not?
It’s good to keep my dating muscles toned or at least not atrophied – my last was a date a few months ago with a near-friend. You know, that person you run in to
at shows or gatherings and always seem to flirt with obscurely in one of those
“*wink* we’re totally flirting but so totally covert about it that I’m not
actually sure if we are but I think we are and isn’t this charged ambiguity
totally exciting” kind of ways (!) – but one or the other is always in a
relationship, or you don’t want to ruin the quasi-friendship with the quagmire
of sex, or neuroses.
My date with the quasi-friend went well, but in terms of
continued romanticism, it was a case of mutual “i don’t think this is gonna
work” and luckily we both said as much a few days later, and so we still get to
be friends.
So, tomorrow’ll be my second date in … a lot of months. It’s
cool. I have a pretty good idea that I’m marinating – getting seasoned for the
right time. – I almost wrote “right now” – which is also true – as I’ve said
before, I tend to believe that once I have x y or z in place, I’ll be really
ready to be in a relationship. But, I got out of a long term one in January
that had a few death rattle trysts through August, so until I was ready to stop
beating a dead horse – or beating off an ex – just kidding – I haven’t really
been available to date anyway.
Although, about a month ago, around the time I started doing
the Calling in The One exercises, along with the Cousin contacting me out of
the deep blue, an old SF fling contacted me to say what’s up. It’s a good thing
I’m convincedly sure he’s a bad idea, because, have.mercy. that sex was awesome.
He and I “saw” each other for about a month about two years ago, and it was
like the kind of stuff you read about or see in “movies” or just fantasize
about – I actually said to him, Do you ever forget how great sex can be? (He
said no.)
But, alas, said hipster (who really wanted me to wear his
torn skinny jeans and loved that my dishware was all in some “state of decay” [I’ve recently tossed all chipped dishware…]) is not a viable option for me –
rockstar sex or not. Well, not right now at least. 
honesty · integrity · self-care

Good Idea/Bad Idea

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Some of you might remember a weekday afternoon cartoon in
the 90s called Animaniacs. On the show
they had a segment called “Good Idea/Bad Idea” which according to my memory of
it, showed two scenarios with a strange looking animated skeleton-like fellow –
or maybe it was a mime? – who would go through two versions of the same thing with a very droll voiceover narrator who would says something like: Good Idea: Going Ice Skating in the Winter; Bad Idea: Going Ice Skating in the Summer – and other, more creative than I can come up with right now nonsense.
This afternoon, I had such a moment. Good Idea: Drinking tea
on my couch under a blanket with my new copy of Real Simple magazine, tearing out inspiration for the handmade
holiday cards I intend to make (a failed intention I’ve set several years in a
row!) with my cat curled up on my lap as it rained and was ugly outside.
Bad Idea: Later walking past the indie movie theater by my
house, and deciding to go see the about-to-start showing of Martha Marcie
May Marlene.
This was a bad idea ~ and I heard that Animaniacs voiceover tell me so as I walked back out into the cold feeling like I hadn’t breathed properly in two hours. The movie itself was wonderful in all
the ways art films are supposed to be wonderful – skilled, raw actors;
absorbing, believable plot; creative camera & sound work. But, it was also
emotionally wrenching, violent and sexually violent, tragic and concluded in a
sudden and unsettling way.
I used to have a much greater tolerance for psychological
dramas; perhaps as a way to cathartize other emotions I was having – in my
Shakespeare class this semester, we’ve done a lot of reading about the role of
theater as mass catharsis. But, lately, I just can’t really handle it. Give me
something a little less intense, wrenching, honest. Ironic then, isn’t it, that
I’ve said that my own poetry has recently become more of all of these.
Maybe as I find the ability to put words to my own drama, the
drama of others just over-flows the well. Maybe as I work to open myself and my
heart to the world, I’ve become a more tender human being.
Or maybe, I just want my entertainment to be
entertaining these days. 
I sort of am ashamed to say it, but I’ll take the fluff
right now, thank you very much. Sure, I feel like I’m no longer in a set of
intellectual elite who are discoursing on their favorite Kurosawa – but then
again, really, when was I?! I’m not a true cinefile – Don’t get me wrong, I
love movies – but I haven’t seen any Kurosawa. I *am* the kind of person who will sometimes
just walk into a cinema and see whatever happens to be playing then, but it
seems to me that ending this cozy afternoon by unknowingly walking into a tragedy about rape, murder,
and PTSD was a Bad Idea.
And (resigning to/embracing) the fact that I’ve
actually made plans to see the new Twilight
with a friend is a Good Idea. Bring on the innocuous brooding fluff!

abundance · family · finances · holidays · joy · responsibility

Thanks-Giving Myself the Day Off

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

My girl friend texted me yesterday to ask if I had
Thanksgiving plans, and then invited me to spend it with her family. I thanked
her, but told her I’d consider it and get back to her. What I had to consider
were my many little plans and designs. …
The first of which was whether to pick up the catering shift I was offered. In fact, they asked if I’m available on all the upcoming
holidays – Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve. And zoom
– my fear brain goes, Of course! I’m not busy those days, I’m not working my
temp job, so I’m not earning on those days – I should do it. (Pause 1:
“Should”). I don’t have any plans yet, East Coast orphan that I am, I don’t
have any family here, and my friend who hosted last year said that it was too
expensive to do it this year. I won’t be hosting, as I now live in Oakland… and no
one comes over to this side! and also my apartment isn’t big enough.
…Then, I start to consider every other East Coast orphan (San Francisco has a lot, and we tend to gravitate toward each other) And I begin to wonder what they’ll be doing–
And I wouldn’t want to leave my friends high and dry on the
holidays–
And I better make sure they have plans–
Or maybe I’ll host anyway–
Or maybe I’ll ask someone else to host–
And wouldn’t it be nice to have all my friends together for
the holiday, if I can only figure it out. (Pause 2: “Figure it out”)
Or maybe …
Maybe, (breathe), I will simply show up to a friend’s family
dinner with homemade pumpkin pie, and a smile.
I asked my financial savvy buddies what they thought about
my working on a or all holidays, and they said, a) ask my HP (higher power –
i.e. get quiet and ask myself what is the “Super Molly” thing to do, and what
is the “Human Molly” thing to do), and b) maybe choose only one holiday to work –
perhaps one that isn’t while I’m also in school. (FYI, catering is not as
easy as just serving plates – it’s hauling cases of water glasses, wine glasses, champagne glasses, salad plates, dinner plates, dessert plates, table linens, tables, decks of
wooden chairs, wine, water, and food up and down flights of stairs or across lawns, all while
attempting to not look like you’re breaking a sweat in front of the client – It
usually knocks me out for the entire next day, as my body is not
nearly as resilient as it used to be.)
What would “Human Molly” do? Hmm. Well, first off, she loves holidays. I do. I absolutely could squeal with
delight about the holidays. I love the memories I have of them, the smells
associated, the warmth I feel that permeates all layers of skin and soul. I
love them. I get squishy thinking about them. – When I was living in South
Korea for two years, they did not get squishy about Christmas – or, duh, Thanksgiving.
They got a little commercial about it, sure, with some inflatable Santas and
some tinsel in the department stores – but for the most part, it was an
atheist’s wet dream winter season. And, how I missed home then.  – I have come to conclude that my
affinity for the holidays has a lot to do with the fact that it was pretty much
the only time of year my family acted normal. We had people over – which never
ever happened during the rest of the year. We had smiles and played nice, and
façade or not, I loved it. It made me feel safe, and like maybe not everything
was fucked.
Luckily, I now know what I need to earn in November and therefore how
much I need to work. And the reality is, I don’t need to work on Thanksgiving: the “should”s (see above)
are always a major tip off I’m about to put myself in a situation I’ll resent
or regret.
I am also aware that anything I feel a frantic need to
“figure out” is a sign that I’m trying to organize things that likely don’t
need to be organized. My fellow East Coasters are entirely capable of figuring
out their own plans – they’re not asking me to create their holiday, and I will
feel much calmer not trying to create them!
So, as you might have guessed by now, I texted my girl
friend back this morning telling her that I would love to join her family for
Thanksgiving. Relieved of my own machinations, I can now look forward to just showing up – with pie. 😉

Hosting Thanksgiving 2009 in my SF apartment. (Turkey never made it to the table!)