Rites Of Passage

Last November, I turned 40. Yes, really. If you've read me in the past (or even if you didn't), you should know I love my birthday. It's my favorite holiday. I mean, in my opinion, it should be a holiday, but for now, even though it's not, it is to me. It's at least as important as National Pie Day (there really is one . Seriously.. I mean a whole day dedicated to PIE?! Yay!). Three-day weekends should be incorporated is what I'm saying.

Debauchery was insured. I planned on forgetting the incredibly difficult show I'd just finished and all the negatives that surrounded it and moving forward with an unstoppable amount of positive energy. I did not fail. Not in the slightest. I'd planned an awesome party for myself. I have a talent for this. Seriously, you should have me plan you a party. I'm that good. It was at Clever Bottle in Belltown, the same place I'd had it the year before, however, since then, she'd expanded and the extra room was perfect for the added Hippos and friends made in the last year plus a little karaoke madness.

Kristen, the owner of Clever Bottle, was so psyched about my party and the fact it was the first repeat birthday celebrated at her bar, she added a few special touches. This menu? Amazingly sweet right?

When I saw the menu, I didn't have enough light for the picture. When you have techie theater friends, they always have a flashlight. Always. This was no exception. 

My friend Sophia and I. I do lots of self snapshots at birthdays.. it's what I do.. And my bangs? Well they do whatever the hell they want apparently. 

My friend Vince and I - and my friend Jon being funny. Eh.. I look good with bunny ears. 

Oh.. did I mention there was karaoke? Aw yeah.. Kristen's treat and it was kickass. Also? I'm now a complete ham when there is karaoke. I maybe can sing a little and once I start, it's hard to get me to stop. Especially when I've been drinking. Also also? My dress rocked. Got it in L.A. at Wasteland last February. $20! Nothing in L.A. is $20 unless maybe your valet parking..  

AM and I.. in a pink boa. Because, why not?

More camera shots at arm's length. This guy on my right (your left) could sing.. like Chris Colfer.. can't remember his name.. and the two lovelies on my left are Hippos - Sheena and Manita. 

Theater people! My friends Lynn, Brad (my union guy from the last show I did and holy cow can he sing too) and moi. 

The last ones left.. Brad, me, the owner of Clever Bottle, Kristen, and Stacey.. we maybe left to drink more. Needless to say, we didn't need it. 

It was like any birthday party you've been to, if you'v been to one of my birthdays that is. And by that I mean completely awesome. I don't know what it is about my parties, but honestly? They don't suck. In fact, they're the opposite of sucking. They pretty much rock everyone's socks off. People tell me these things later, that's how I know. For realz. I looked awesome, my stupid bangs got in the way as they are wont to do every birthday it seems, but whatever, and, as you can imagine, there was drinking. Like a lot. And there was the singing of solos, duets, trios and strangers jumping in on the singing (not to mention the cake eating - well, because the cake was fucking fantastic so that's understandable (the chocolate white chocolate from Simply Desserts in Fremont in case you want to get in on that tastiness and trust me, you do.)) and more drinking and a bit of hangover the next morning, but ultimately, it all resulted in a giant smile on my face that carried into the next week. Maybe still actually.

You'd think that'd be plenty of celebrating and, for any other birthday, you'd be right (tho I have been known to have at least four birthday parties in a week's time. No really, I used to be the biggest attention whore. I've improved, I swear.). But this year, I planned an additional weekend as a birthday present to myself and ran away to San Francisco to see some Hippos who lived there. One of my Seattle Hippos, Citrus, who's the sister I never had, decided to come with me. Thank god because we were fantastically entertaining to ourselves.

You have to know one thing: Citrus is trying to teach me the value of being on time, which, for the record, I already know.. I'm just.. a little slow at getting it down sometimes. So, in an effort to prevent missing our flight, she picked me up via a town car, but she was five minutes early. FIVE. Do you know how much I can get done in five minutes? Well, I could've finished packing.. but she did it for me. After she THREW my bag and the last few toiletries I was trying to pack into the town car. Seriously. She CHASED ME out of the house. I cursed her name all the way to the airport jokingly saying after all the rushing and causing me to forget a few small things, our flight will probably be delayed. And of course, as luck would have it, it was. FOR THREE HOURS. Stupid poorly placed San Francisco Airport surrounded by even stupider wind and fog.

So what are a couple of lovely ladies stuck in Concourse A of the SeaTac Airport to do when they now won't arrive in San Francisco in time to even make last call? We drank. A lot (are you seeing a pattern?). At this uber classy bar (and by classy, I mean odd and poorly themed) called the Africa Lounge (see? And really, if we're getting grammatical - shouldn't it be the African Lounge? I'm just saying.). There are pictures of elephants and possibly wildebeests on the tables.. and that's the extent of anything African there. Unless Africans eat turkey sandwiches, nachos and drink vodka tonics. I think not.

We also texted, facebooked, tweeted (these got funnier the more we drank, obviously), made friends with the other now-stranded-along-with-us-San-Francisco-bound passengers who were also getting lit or texting us with updates from the gate, which we'd pass along to the rest of the bar. It made for a much more jovial group of fellow travelers when we were finally called to the plane for boarding. Hallelujah!

While delayed in Seattle for three long hours, Citrus makes the best of our time.. 

I love Virgin Airlines. LOVE them.. however, I do NOT love their headphones. Citrus and I apparently have tiny heads. Even at the smallest setting they were still too big so she ingeniously wadded up the wrapper they came in and put it between her head and the band. Perfect! She also looks like a muppet because the flash took out her nose.. hee.. 

Saturday, the next night, we went dancing at Mighty (super fun club despite its bridge-and-tunnel crowd). Miguel Migs was dj'ing, we got in free (yay!), and Citrus, the mother of THREE children under 10, danced us all under the table.. I don't know where she gets the energy. 

Sunday morning, we met some gorgeous Hippos (Kiz, Citrus, Christina, and Erwin) for brunch at The Phoenix Irish Bar in the Mission. Really, really good food. Go there.. like now. 

Citrus left after brunch Sunday and I stayed one more night with Christina in Nob Hill. Really cool area where we had dinner at Leopold's, this amazing Austrian restaurant where the beer comes in as much as FIVE liter steins! Christina shows off the one liter options with a smile. Mmm beer! Also? The papparadelle was freaking fantastic. Get some!

My amazing group of Hippos and our other non-Hippo friends who came along for the party.

San Francisco didn't disappoint. For two nights we stayed with our friend Matt (who for some reason I missed getting pictures of) in the Mission. He lives within walking distance of funky bars, overpriced but yummy coffee shops and tasty breakfast joints. And the weather couldn't have been better. I packed for windy and cool temperatures and it was about 75 every day we were there. Unseasonably warm for the second week of November and Citrus and I soaked it up as much as possible. 

There was dancing, drinking and eating - not in any particular order - and then there was shopping. One afternoon in the Haight Ashbury District and that did us in. Citrus knew where to go and our first stop was Ceiba Records. I was so confused why we were shopping for music until we walked in and I realized they sold burner attire. And it was frilly and funky and supercool burner wear at that! I was in costume heaven! Well, then there was the sticker shock. Ceiba isn't cheap, but every single item I bought is adorable, locally made, original or just made my ass look fantastic. Can't blame me, can you? And I could've walked out with more, but I couldn't spend all my weekend money in one place. 

Just a few blocks down was Gypsy Streetwear. Similar stuff, but different and much closer to affordable! I got itty bitty shrugs and sexy wrap tops and was grinning at the thought of my now well-stocked costume arsenal. 

My favorite part of the trip is that everywhere we went, we had a different mix of Hippos. Whomever could join us wherever they could did and though they couldn't all do everything with us, we spiced our visit with as many of them as we could. The non-hippos included my long-time friend, Scott, who lives in Oakland, a couple of his friends he brought and some other burners I met last year at Camp DeMentha, Ed and Mark. I loved we could get that burner feeling without having to be at the burn. Dust-free, street-clothes comfy and everyone in their own element. 

Citrus had to leave after Sunday brunch and I stayed through Monday with our friend Christina in her tiny but uber perfect little studio apartment in Nob Hill. Before the Hippos joined us Sunday night for dinner, we got a couple glasses of wine and some one on one friend time we didn't get at the 2010 burn where we met. You know those people who just glow? She's one of them. She's gorgeous to look at but you know she's a stunner on the inside too. I just love her.

It was her idea to have dinner at Leopold's and our group just kept getting bigger. And dinner? Holy. Crap. So. Good. There wasn't one drop of food left on anyone's plate. The restaurant was buzzing with celebratory energy. Large groups ordering five liter beers because they could, birthday songs being sung and my friends weren't going to be outdone. Ed stood up on his chair and demanded loudly the entire restaurant sing to me. And they did. Happily! Can I please tell you how great that was? Really great. Like.. SOOO great. I may have been beaming. 

Last day in the city and I missed Citrus, but Christina, Smiley, Erwin and I met for breakfast at this darling bakery called La Boulange before they all had to be at work. Did I mention the food in San Francisco is incredible? I'm running out of appropriately descriptive words it was so good. Though they lost points for my bowl of coffee. You heard me. As in no handle. I'm sorry, but even hipsters who live in San Francisco need handles on their ceramic bowls of coffee, people. Please. I felt like a dog. Who drinks coffee.. just weird.

Headed back home, I was on a high from such a love-filled weekend that the next birthday will be hard to top. I have to admit though, 40 still, as of right now, doesn't sit very comfortably with me. It's just a small hang up though because otherwise? I'm in a good place with who I am, working on some things, feeling good about others, maybe a little shaky with my passion in theater, but finding connections to explore. Nannying is working well, I love the little boy I look after and it may finally go to something full-time soon. I'm learning how to spin poi (as in spinning fire.. ooh! Ever so cool and not easy! Sometimes rather painful actually.), which is very exciting especially if the possibility of spinning in the conclave at Burning Man actually happens! Writing here feels like I'm exercising a muscle I completely forgot about and takes longer than I'd like, but feels cathartic. And lastly, I may be seeing someone I'm excited about. I don't know how this is possible as all the funny, attractive, straight and single men in Seattle are taken or maybe just not for me. I don't know.. he seems to like me and he's kinda awesome so I'm just trying not to jinx it. 

All good things. I'm happy and grounded.. not angsty at all. It's such a nice feeling after so much time of.. well.. not that. It's just.. being 40. That still feels like a nasty hairball stuck in the back of my throat, but being able to pass for 26 certainly makes that hairball a lot more bearable. 

Oh, The Places You'll Go!

I didn't write about my third trip to Burning Man in 2010. I'm not sure why. Eight months into a bumpy year of losing my job, a bruised ego, and trying to figure out what would come next, I stepped out onto the playa, into a camp I'd just joined earlier that year, and it began to rain. Hard. The playa doesn't take to rain well, at least not if you're trying to walk on it. It becomes a very cement-like type mud. Quickly. Luckily, rain there doesn't last long and about 10-15 minutes later, it subsided and left a fantastic and intense rainbow afterwards. And then it did the most perfect thing and doubled. You could hear cheers across the entire playa. The collective joy was infectious. I was Home. I was officially a burner.

You might think it odd I didn't consider myself a burner until the third time I made this crazy trip to the desert. I certainly participated to the fullest extent each time - well, mostly - but it can take some time to decide if that's what you want to be. You can lose and find your bearings within seconds of each other at an event where your bearings are constantly shifting because your comfort level is continually being challenged and you don't know what to wear or bring because someone is always wearing something better or brighter and there's so much to see you couldn't possibly see it all. Phew! For me though, it was a sense of belonging. I belong to a magnificent community now and It belongs to me. The community of Burning Man is the larger parental life-force, but I'm talking about the community of my own camp, Hippocampus.

My very first trip was phenomenal and new and shocking and so many other words I can't find right now that wouldn't describe it appropriately anyway. I knew there was nothing like it anywhere in the rest of the world. And I was there. To experience it all.

Pixie, who now lives in Portland and is a blonde force to be reckoned with when she's trying to convince you of something new, coerced me into the idea of going in the first place because, the smartie that she is, she suggested an offer I couldn't really refuse. She'd buy my ticket if I went with her. A free trip to Burning Man. In retrospect, this was an enormous gift. I don't think I quite understood it at the time, but the burn changed my life. Really and truly it did and still does. I'll always be grateful to that gorgeous girl for opening that door for me.

Afterwards, I returned to the Real World in an extremely calm and happy state and could only attribute that to the indescribable experience I'd just had - and all the Vitamin D from a week's worth of non-stop sun. I couldn't stop talking about my adventure and knew I was going back in the coming year. No question. I just wanted to be a bit more comfortable and wanted a bit more of an organized clan.

My second year I became a sort of Pixie. I talked up the experience so much that a whole group of friends decided to come with me. No tents this time, RV's instead and we camped with extended friends called Baggage Check who promised covered showers. I swear, a week of cleaning yourself with baby wipes will change you and not in ways you'd appreciate.

For whatever reason, my second burn was just meh for me. I'm so glad my friends fell in love with the playa despite my experience that year, but I expected to feel more at home and instead felt awkward and out of place. I didn't connect with anyone in our extended camp and I was distracted by the boyfriend I desperately missed because we were deep in our honeymoon phase when I left. The frequent and lengthy dust storms that year didn't help either so with two more days still to get thru, I felt defeated and wanted to go home. I needed a stronger community to surround me and knew before I came back again, I'd have to find that.

It's an understatement that 2009 was a difficult year. I didn't go to the burn because I didn't want to pretend I was ok. Your issues have a way of finding you in the desert because there are so many opportunities for being rubbed raw - and not in a good way. It's the desert. Even surrounded by 50,000 people, you can end up on your own and feel isolated within your own reflections. I'd been reflecting.. all year.. and I couldn't move past it. I needed to jumpstart my healing after spending most of the year being so depressed no one, including myself, recognized me. So I spent two amazing weeks in Barcelona distracting myself and trying to let go. It didn't magically fix everything, but I felt renewed and more positive so by the following year, I was finally grounded and whole.

2010 was the Year of the Hippo - for me anyway. Introduced by common friends, I noticed there was always a welcoming feeling when you walked into any Hippocampus party or potluck. Someone always reached out to me, the homes I was invited to always lacked that ego-driven first impression energy where people are looking you up and down or wondering who you're connected to. Instead there were hugs. Not handshakes. Hugs. As in a hug from everyone who met you and in a room of 20-30 people, that's a lot of hugging. It felt like I'd stepped back into the burn for a moment each time I met these people.. and tho I didn't quite know what to expect being involved with a working theme camp, I knew this was a better fit for me.

The Hippos are a fun group to be apart of despite the fact Hippocampus is a working theme camp, which means just that - you work a lot. There are domes to set up, shade structure to tie down, and cafe and dinner shifts to work. It could sometimes be frustrating and difficult, but the Hippos were organized, they got their dance on often and well, they're very present and open and they're really a very genuinely loving group of people. It also doesn't hurt they're really easy on the eyes - like seriously, our people are so pretty it's ridic. And even tho I didn't connect with many of them as much as I'd wanted to before the trip,  we arrived at camp, right before the double rainbow moment and that was spectacularly good sign.

I had two favorite camp moments that year: when we volunteered at the gates for our greeter shift at the beginning of the week and David and Victor's wedding at the end of it. Each time it was something we did as a whole camp together and the energy and happiness just oozed out pores. You couldn't help but get caught up in it and who wouldn't want to?

The greeters are your last point of check in before you head into the playa. As a virgin burner, the greeters are in charge of beginning your first burn positively because we know the virgins are excited and nervous and have no idea what to expect. So once it's your turn to be greeted, they ask you where you're from and how many times you've been to Burning Man. If it's your first time, they ask you to get out of your vehicle so they can begin your official initiation. First, you're welcomed Home with a big hug and a huge smile. Then, since the dust is going to be in everything you own anyway, they ask you to get intimately acquainted with it and make a dust angel, roll around in it, whatever. Yes - many people protest, but usually they all give in. Lastly, they give you a metal rod and tell you to ring the bell closest to the gate and exclaim as loudly as possible, ‛I'm a virgin no more!’ This seals your entry, you're hugged again, because why not, and you're sent off with the sound advice to drink more water, don't put anything in the potty that doesn't come out of your body and safety third! Well, that last one is a Hippo saying we just find funny..

We met people from all over the world. I remember a girl from as far away as Dubai. There were car or busloads of Irish, Norwegians, Danes, Canadians, Israelis.. I mean,  it was incredible to me to understand the hours of travel anyone from outside the states had to do to get there, but they came regardless. Last year, Burning Man was listed in Time Magazine's book, Great Places of History: Civilization's 100 Most Important Sites: An Illustrated Journey, so this one-of-a-kind event had finally been acknowledged as the magical place it is and I feel really lucky to live so close to it although many of the people we greeted traveled days or even weeks to be there and put my little 16 hour trip each way to shame. Greeting is now such high point of the trip for all of us, we've since made it a burn tradition and volunteer for a shift every year.

Our friend Sebastian greets a virgin at the 2011 Rites of Passage burn and is instructing her how to get down and dirty, so to speak, in the dust for the first time. You can also see the line of bells along the front of the gates. 

Again from 2011's burn, Rites of Passage. At the end of our shift, we're all on our camp bus on our way back to camp. We were tired and exhausted because this was taken at 8am. 2010's shift was a Tuesday, 12pm to 4pm and it was hot like whoa. But this last year, we worked a Tuesday, 4am to 8am shift. A totally different experience. Shockingly, the line was much, much longer when we arrived to greet at 4am. This line at 8am was nothing obviously. 

Then there was David and Victor's wedding. They're a super sweet and gorgeous couple from New York at the time who were/are long-time burners and Hippos. Getting to know them beforehand was fun. They reminded me of my best gay boyfriends in Seattle, very easy to get along with, biting wit if needed, but not catty. They're just very genuine guys who were/are madly in love. Their ceremony couldn't have been more moving and powerful for all of us. I'd never seen a wedding so eclectically dressed, but this was their second family and they wanted all of them, or rather, us, to be part of it. I felt extremely honored. We even threw them a super fun bachelor party the night before with our own Hippo lap dancers - one professional, one just for comedy. It was all kinds of awesome.

The happy couple picked out an art instillation to have their wedding under (which of course is not really pictured - sorry!)  and their closest friends covered them with a canopy (it was extremely windy that afternoon).

Two of our group went around the Hippo circle surrounding David and Victor and wrapped ribbon around our wrists so we were all connected. I thought this was a really lovely idea. 

Some of the hippos to the left of me in the circle. Our wedding attire was requested to be silvery or steampunk if we could. Hardly formal attire, but it qualifies as 'burner wedding' for sure.

Returning to the Real World after that was disappointing. We all emailed about our decompression depression because so many of the Hippos don't live in Seattle and after a week's worth of intense connection and everyone goes back home, you miss them. A lot. So to prevent disconnection in our own city, we began our own Seattle traditions. Almost every Friday there's a potluck at the home of one couple who also were first-year Hippos like me and luckily, live only two blocks from my house. We created nights of dancing and taking over straight bridge-and-tunnel type clubs who didn't know what to think of us when we showed up dressed to the burner nines. We have birthday parties and baby showers and celebrate New Year's together and some are in a men's or women's group looking for a bit more direction and evolution in their lives. I've reached out to many of them for support, love, advice,  venting, laughter, dinners, costumes to borrow.. I mean it's my bottomless resource. They're people I want to emulate and they influence me positively. They're my chosen family. They've made me stronger, wiser, more patient, more open, more kind.. a better person overall.

Thank you, Pixie, for saying those three little words, 'Come with me.' It changed my life. Sparkly love to you and all my Hippos.

Only Fools Rush In..

I'm just gonna start the catching up process where I left off in oh.. (Christ..) August. Yeah.. no, that's not daunting at all. *Smacks hand to forehead* Sigh.. you've been warned. These will be epic.

So let's start with things as much in order as I can remember. Bernstein. What a freakin mess that was. Unfortunately, this is what I get for rushing things. When will I learn this lesson? As you read this, keep in mind this was a one month relationship. True story. One month. I can practically hear you shaking your head. I know.. sometimes I'm that girl.. but hey, the first two weeks with someone can be so dreamy you lose track of real time. Love makes you fucking crazy. That's my only excuse. NOT that this was that.. but we thought about it..

We met a month before I left for the desert. He was in the upcoming cast I was stage managing (one of the worst ideas I've had in a long time.) and we both developed a big crush and twitterpations. Fast forward to two weeks later after we'd virtually spent every second together since he'd returned from a week away in Eastern Washington working with Seattle Shakes. At this point, we were both talking about some heavy feelings and I felt great about it. Still, we had to come up for air because not only was I prepping for Burning Man, but I was sponsoring my longtime friend, AM, into my camp who'd never been and it doubled my workload and stress of packing and coordinating all the million details required. There was also just basic day to day stuff like laundry and house cleaning that had built up because we'd been too busy being schmoopy and simply staring into each other's eyes like love-struck idiots.

I didn't explain the space needed very delicately to Bernstein - partially because I just thought he'd understand with all the time we'd already had together and partially because I honestly didn't have the bandwidth to be tactful. I had shit to do and a week left to do it in. Still, I made every possible minute with him count or at least I thought I did. He began to lose it on a regular basis -  and by lose it, I do mean wig the fuck out. Seriously. For example, we'd just had a lovely morning together and I went to get my hair dyed and trimmed. Not a short appointment, but just 30 minutes into it, I got a text out of no where saying he wasn't sure of ‛things' to which I had to press for ‛what sort of things'  and it quickly spiraled downward from there. I felt panicky and like I was talking to a crazy girl. But trying to be understanding, I cancelled my after-salon plans with a girlfriend I'd made and met him immediately to put his insecurities to rest and I thought that was that. He'd been reassured. He was definitely in it and wanted to be with me, I showed him he was important. We were good.

Later that week, I'd left to nanny for six hours. An hour into it, he starts up again. This time, I'm unable to get into it with him until that night after rehearsal because I have to focus on the children and I'm super frustrated he tried to handle his feelings this way again. He goes back and forth with his texts eventually apologizing for putting me on the spot when I can't talk face to face. And I'm at a loss. How did I become the reasonable one in the relationship? That's new. I mean, I'm the sensitive one. I want to be the priority. I don't understand why guys need so much space, etc. And somehow I knew this was the beginning of crazy. I just hoped I was wrong.

We worked it out but the week of Burning Man was swiftly approaching. He was clearly out of his element in understanding what this trip and my friends who are apart of it meant to me and tho I spent time with him, tried to explain it, let him know I'd be coming back to him and was so excited to share my adventures, I wasn't sure he really got it. Our communication was good in person, surprisingly, but we'd have whole conversations over text because honestly, I hate talking on the phone after working in telecommunications for 10 years. My bad, I know. After the second time he freaked out, since we did so much chatting with text, he asked me if we could promise not to do anything drastic over it. Asked if there was an issue, we meet first and work things out in person. I agreed, of course. We were adults, not high school kids.. duh.. that was a no brainer. Again, I thought we were good.. all freak-outs aside.

In his defense, prep for my trip really did make me insane. I wasn't patient, I got annoyed easily, mostly because he was always in my space, and I was overtired. But I let him know when this was all over, I'd be back to normal. Pinky swear. Unfortunately, I just couldn't get organized quickly enough or in the way I wanted at all - even for my fourth trip, it was kind of ridiculous. I was all over the map and feeling this uncertain energy from Bernstein as well, which wasn't helping.

I committed to spending the last night before the trip with him. What that meant to him and what it meant to me by definition I found out later were two different things. Not being as ready as I wanted, that meant I would come over when I was all packed and ready to go. To him, that meant I should've had that shit done before that night so we could have an actual date. Guess who's way that went? At 4am, I straggled over to his place because I'd made that commitment. I could've just texted a lame apology and fallen into my own bed since I had to be up in 2.5 hours but I didn't. That would've been crappy. Still, I thought that he'd understand. He was loving and sweet and at 6:30am, I hugged and kissed him goodbye. As I left his place, I just had this gut feeling something wasn't right with him, but I let it go because I had to focus on this trip I'd been planning for a year. If he thought I was being selfish, then so be it. We'd deal with that when I returned.

The trip takes two days to arrive and the morning of our second day, just as we were leaving Lakeview, Oregon where we stopped for breakfast and gas, I got a vague text from him - to feel free to do whatever I wanted and to have a great trip. Um.. ok.. we'd talked about what I was and wasn't allowed to do while gone since the desert can lead to all kinds of situations with all kinds of people. Kissing was fine, sex was not. So I was confused by his text and AM thought he was trying to test me. Really? Because I don't need to be tested. That's juvenile. I tried calling, he didn't answer. I got the distinct feeling he was again doing that hit and run thing but ignoring me this time. I left him a sweet message and left it at that. There was nothing more I could do til the trip was over.

I'd told Bernstein once I got closer to the desert, we'd lose communication abilities and be incommunicado for the week. I knew he'd have a hard time with that after how much time we'd just spent joined at the hip, but that's what the burn is about. You live in the moment. Exponentially. You put technology aside and you're as present as possible while there. That said, we had early arrival passes and the organization that puts on the event does have internet and phone service pulsing throughout the desert up until the gates open officially and then they dial it down so only they have the most access to it (or something like that - don't quote me.. I'm no IT wizard.). AM got a phone call literally as we approached the official road to the burn which shocked me so I wondered if I had service and it was enough to text Bernstein I'd arrived safe and sound, heart emoticons included. We did a little exploring after arriving and later, I had enough internet to email him of my day's adventures since we'd arrived and that I missed him. I didn't think to explain further because I told him not to expect a word once I left and I didn't write him beyond that first day and put my phone away.

Surprisingly, tho my signal was pretty nil the rest of the week, I'd noticed Saturday I'd received an email from Bernstein and it didn't sound positive. He thought that since I hadn't written anymore that I was blowing him off or mad. I didn't know til we left the desert and had a stronger signal that he'd sent a previous email that hadn't come thru yet letting me know that with my time away, he'd made some decisions and he wanted to talk about them when I returned. It was a lot of stuff I couldn't focus on right then because a) I couldn't address it 16 hours away from home and b) I didn't want to. This felt like so much more drama than it needed to be and it just made me mad. I didn't want it to color my burn so I ignored it until the end of the trip.

Sunday night, after the temple burn, we packed up the car and headed out - me and my three other friends. We sat in line to get out for three hours, and at 3am, there was no way to safely make it anywhere as tired as we were so we slept in the van til dawn on Monday in the town just outside Burning Man. Once we all got some real sleep and were kind of awake and chatting later, I finally received Bernstein's first email and could see there was a problem. I thought I could get a solid signal after we passed thru some major towns and tried calling him. That was my first mistake. He didn't want to talk at all actually and even tho we attempted a little, after a few minutes, the call dropped. Frustrated, I started texting because I knew when I got home, it'd be too late to have a heavy relationship chat. I was upset and I simply wanted to understand what he was feeling, to be reassured myself for once. But he wasn't having it. I kept trying to be kind, but I was persistent and somehow that escalated the issue for him to where he was so frustrated he texted ‛I just feel we need to end things,' and I stopped breathing for a second. Only a second. Because after that I just got angry. I knew something wasn't right, but a break up? Over text?! Really?! Call me nuts but I think that falls under the heading of 'something drastic', which, as mentioned above, he'd made me promise a week ago we wouldn't do over text.

‛Do you even know how hypocritical that is right now,' I asked him in shock.

‛You pushed me to answer. I told you to wait,' he texted back bluntly.

Yeah.. that's what I did. He told me to wait so like a reasonable person in this completely logical situation I was handed unexpectedly after a pretty exhausting week, I should've just obeyed or something and since I didn't, my punishment was that he did the next logical thing anyone would do and HE ENDED THE RELATIONSHIP. Yeah.. made total sense to me too. Fucker.

** Side note: I also had edema, which means I was dehydrated so much (which I still don't understand how I did to myself with all the constant drinking of water) that any water in my system wasn't processing correctly and instead was collecting in my cells so I was swollen to the extent my non-burner clothes for the ride home didn't fit and I was woozy and spacey for three days til I figured it out and slept with my feet elevated. So yeah..  the opposite of awesome.**

I was livid. I told him I was done talking til I returned home. My friends were as shocked as I was, tho from his earlier messages on the way to the burn, we all thought he'd been strange. AM offered some sanity in just a few words. And for those of you just joining us, AM is my guy friend who also speaks Guy.. you know that guy friend you have that can tell you what guys mean when they do or say this or that. We've been friends almost as long as I've lived in Seattle.. pretty close to 16 years. We dated when we met, we stayed friends thru thick and thin since then so he knows me.. for reals. He knows how I lack patience where men are concerned, how I can pick some real winners, how I can be stupidly girly and do or say the wrong thing with the same men I only want to get closer to and he can talk me out of my crazy tree when I get stressed out, which is why we drove together in case the van broke down or something insane like last year and because he can also fix cars so it felt good having him along.

ANYWAY - still in shock, AM said the best thing he's ever told me. Simply put, ‛Wow.. he blew it hon. You dodged a bullet with that one.' ‛Right? I mean since when am I the one dating the crazy girl,' I asked incredulously. He didn't even have to say anything more because he knows.. that idea of me being the sane one in any given dating sitch is pretty fucking rare. At least I felt validated at that moment, if nothing else.

Later, in the dark and a few more hours closer to home, the feeling of this person being gone from my life really did hit me and I started to cry silently. AM reached over and grabbed my hand and just held it, which was nice. My friend Sasha came from the backseat and hugged me too. It hurt for sure. I wasn't sure about him when I left and certainly during the week for reasons I'll talk about in the next post, but I wasn't ready to give up on it without trying to talk it thru. And yet, he felt he could make the decision without me.. probably the moment I left.

He texted again that night and sounded like he finally realized what he'd done, not that he took it back but he'd certainly handled it the wrong way. I ignored him because.. duh.

Rehearsal the next evening was torture. I could feel the tension and had to pretend I was fine. And the talk afterwards? Well, in no minutes flat turned into a yelling match. YELLING. HE was MAD at ME! This may have been after I laid into him. I certainly haven't been that angry at anyone in a long time. Not someone I'd been involved with and I'm usually a lot more careful with a boyfriend type but I didn't hold back that night. Not one inch. I said every possible thing I felt about the situation and not once did I apologize. His anger came from trying to defend himself and basically having no leg to stand on - tho I cussed him out pretty directly and he just wasn't able to take it. But I GET to be mad about the break up, right? Yes. Yes I do. There's no statute of limitations for how shitty a break up over text is. No there is not. Yet he told me he was mad at me for things I apparently did or said during our time together, which he didn't have the balls to just say at the time. For example - I teased him about how he dressed one night, (teased was the operative word here), I didn't make him enough of a priority while I was prepping for the burn (which I explained ad nauseum and he still didn't get it.), I didn't return his emails once I was there (also explained.), and the best part - wait for it - was that I REMINDED HIM OF HIS MOTHER WHO'S TOO CONTROLLING. He. Actually. Said. That. And you didn't think he could do anything worse than texting the break up. Me either.

Don't laugh when I say he wasn't the guy I'd left a week before - kind, sweet, so loving and fun. But how much of a person can you really know in a month's time? I know this. It is laughable. At the same time, my mother met the love of her life in my stepfather and after only knowing each other for six weeks, they were engaged. Til he died three years later, I'd never ever seen her so happy. Never. So sue me. It can happen.

He was devoid of all care. I know that look in a guy. I've felt it myself. He felt absolutely nothing for me. He said as much. Angrily. And finally, we'd both had it and he left in a huff but before he could, I gave him back the cute little gifts he'd brought me back from his Eastern Washington trip when we first started dating. I certainly didn't want them after that. His reaction was to say, ‛Fine. I'll throw them away.'

To compound issues, as a cast and crew, we were all committed to a camping trip that coming weekend, which I was already dragging my feet about going on, but surprisingly, overall, it was fine. We stayed to opposite sides of the campfire, we didn't talk at all, but the morning we left, I was watching him pack up his tent and felt a wash of disappointment over the fact we weren't even friends. We'd said we were falling for each other before I'd left. How did we end up in a complete 180 in 10 days apart?

That night I emailed him explaining myself more completely than the night we fought - my shock at his level of anger, his lack of any feeling at all, and I even apologized for anything I may have said or done that he'd not felt comfortable addressing with me. I signed off wishing him happiness. I was surprised he wrote back and with a full apology for everything. Everything. He'd put up walls, talked himself out of what he'd been feeling for me while I was gone, but truly felt we weren't right for each other, which, had he said that to begin with and in a kind way, our break up would've been so much easier for both of us. At least I finally had that.

We opened the show and ran the hell out of it for five reeeaaallly long weeks to almost always sold-out houses even tho the cast felt it was only mediocre - as did a few of the critics. I made friends with the union board op guy who was my sole companion up in the booth for the duration of each show and we were incessantly tortured by Bernstein's constant habit of pausing for effect between words. I mocked him in my head, whether he deserved it or not. It was my outlet of bitterness until I was over it, which came with the closing of the show. I was so grateful when we hit the end of October and that thing was done. There was no love lost in our goodbye and tho I see him randomly at other theater events, I wouldn't consider us friends.

I spent the entirety of November regaining who I was, celebrating myself, and letting go. And reminding myself this was a good lesson learned - yet again - about being patient and getting to know someone in real time.

Oh yeah.. and lastly, if you learn nothing else from me, learn this: Never date an actor. Famous last words.. I know, I know..

Nothing Is More Consistent Than Change

Well, hello. It's been ages. Seriously. Like people who write this blog  (and I may be using the term 'people' a bit loosely since you and I - WE as it were - know I'm the only one who writes this bit of nonsense) turned older (read: 40. Yes. For reals. I'll wait for your freak out to be over........ Um. Yes way. And thank you. I know I look 25 or whatever you just said, but it's true. I'm old. Yup - I look younger than you probably. Sorry for that. It's not intentional. Water. I drink lots of water and my bio mom is going to be 70 and looks about 55. It's a gene thing. You understand.). It's still hard to say.. Forty.. 4-0. Whispering doesn't make it any better. It's still roughly middle age. But you're right, I don't look it (for which I'm grateful now - (not back when I was trying to get into bars illegally)) and I'm more certain I don't act it either (you don't need to be so eager to agree.. geez). Can't blame a girl. When you're in theater, it's not how old you actually are, but  the age range you can play. Given that, I'm somewhere between 10 and pushing it would be 26. Not bad for a girl who grew up watching black and white Popeye cartoons, Solid Gold, The Love Boat and Fantasy Island (Seriously - one of the shows I worked on this year a cast member was too young to know what Fantasy Island was.. Please. Mr. Rork? Tattoo? "De plane! De plane!" No? Nothing? Sigh..).

So there's much to tell you.. and if you couldn't tell, I've made some changes. Rebranded or renewed or just rejuvenated things for 2012 and I have a lot to catch you up on. Maybe I have to catch myself up too because just writing these little paragraphs feels good, feels like I should've been doing it this whole time - but Life gets in the way doesn't it? Things happen and get busy and messy and sometimes you just don't want to go into every little detail again and relive hurts and failures. Or you want to keep the wonderful big adventures to yourself just for a bit longer because there are no words to accurately describe it all. That's the best excuse I can give you - and tho not a good one, I'm forging on and will attempt to try this writing thing for a while longer. It's ok if I'm just talking to myself here or maybe a few new sets of eyes will find me and relate to the idea of transformation in the new year. I know it's not a new idea, but this blog has been roughly the same since I started - minus a few added bits of bling - and the bling was nice, but I needed the update - you know, in with the new/out with the old sort of thing - and ME - well, 40 is a big change. It shouldn't be - because you know it's all psychological and I'm still the same person, but it sets in. The reality. I really do feel a little different, a little pressure to grow the hell up (finally.. maybe), a little calmer and hopefully, a little wiser. I said hopefully.. ok?

Are we good now? Can you look past this little disappearance and let me make it up to you? 40 makes me a real grown up now so I think that means something - or means I'm trying to figure out what exactly that means. Either way, this adventure is starting..

Alrighty then.. Here's to a fantastic new year for us all and a new Miss Devylish 2.0 for 2012.