Not Your Average Gal

Copywriter. Content Creator. Constant Sassypants.

Musings

For Those Theatre Kids

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What? You’re not dramatic when seeing Mt. Fuji for the first time?

In a former life, I was a theatre kid. Awkward. Creative. Smart. Self-conscious. Belter-of-songs, alone in my room. You know, a theatre kid.

I used to put on shows in my backyard with the neighborhood kids. Writing, directing, acting and craving the applause from all of our parents who gave up 30 minutes of their afternoon to laugh at our Oscar-worthy shenanigans.

From my first show as Glenda the Good Witch in Wizard of Oz in third grade to joining a local theatre group during the summers in middle school, I was immersed in the process it takes to perform.

Perhaps it was the mark of being the middle child. My older sister was incredibly smart and excelled in academics. My younger brother was the family clown, causing a ruckus in whichever room he entered. Theatre was mine. It was something I did alone, away from the things my siblings had mastered.

By the time I got to high school, I felt adequately prepared. I had spent a majority of my young years, at that point, in the performing arts. Then I met my high school theatre director, Mr. Bodick. He had a few things to say and teach me about that…

Mr. Bodick passed away unexpectedly this summer.

A world I thought I had grown out of, a world that filled my heart with such joy and confidence, a world dotted with camaraderie and creativity, came flashing back in waves.

At a local gathering celebrating his life, an outpouring of sadness and beloved memories, made for a remarkably touching tribute to the legacy Mr. Bodick left his students. I was quickly reminded of how wacky and wonderful the theatre community is. I stood next to friends from long ago, who I giggled with backstage and those who I shared secrets crushes with during cast and crew afterparties.

For me, theatre was a much-needed outlet. It allowed me an opportunity to push through fear, focus on characters and memorization, practice my public speaking and provided me a sincere sense of accomplishment after every final curtain.

But more importantly, it gave me and so many others a place to belong.

Belonging. Something so needed in this exclusionary world. Whether you were a geek, jock, crippled with self-doubt and dramatic (who me?) or slept with your International Thespian certificate underneath your pillow—we all belonged on stage.

And, crazy enough, we got along.

Because we had to. We had to coordinate scenes, choreograph dances and sit through read-throughs, shoulder to shoulder with peers often outside our friend circle. Those opportunities taught us theatre kids much more than making sure to remember to point to the orchestra during final bows.

Mr. Bodick was a master of organizing the chaos and making sure everyone had a place on stage; whether that meant running around backstage being part of the tech crew or belting out tunes as the main character. Everyone belonged. Everyone.

Last night, we celebrated his life in a fitting way: by putting on a show filled with his favorite songs from musicals he directed in over 30+ years of teaching and directing. It was special, with very few dry eyes in the house. (It also didn’t hurt that a fellow alumni and two-time, Tony award winning actress, Sutton Foster joined the stage.)

Yours truly also performed a number from Oklahoma with current and past theatre ensemble casts. My heart breaks for the kids at school who won’t have him for a teacher during their tenure. Being back on my old stomping grounds reassured me, though, they would be okay. Theatre kids are resilient like that. They showcased the same camaraderie that made my theatre years so special.

The normal routine of the pre-show jitters, happened of course. Heart pumping beforehand. Practicing the moves backstage. Taking a quick nervous pee in the dressing room right before. I can’t tell you how surreal it was being back on stage in my old high school.

Everything looked the same. Smelled the same. Being on stage felt the same.

I ran into teachers, old friends (including my pals, Dan Clay, AKA: Carrie Dragshaw and Lauren Molina) and friends’ parents, some of which had silly stories from my youth. Some even reminded the hubster how lucky he was. (Their checks are in the mail.) Dare I say, I felt proud.

Mr. Bodick would have been proud. In fact, I’m lucky enough to have his words right here on my blog, saying as much, from a post I wrote years ago about how important teachers are.

For a man who treated his students like professionals from the get-go, hearing he’s proud of you is the cherry on top of a life forever touched by his dedication to his craft. It meant means the world.

It always will.

Thanks for so many fond memories, Mr. Bodick. You’ve made a lasting impact on so many theatre kids—turned adults—who won’t forget.

When I Grow Up

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Manzanita, Oregon

It’s a phrase we most often associate with kindergarten projects or awkward conversations with our high school guidance counselors.

“When I grow up, I want to…”

Even a gal in her thirties finds that answer difficult. Much of my formative adult, career-driven goals have been a bit dictated by the overarching medicine journey of the hubster. That’s not meant to be expressed with remorse or disdain; it’s merely a fact of life when you fall in love with a fella that wants to help people. The medicine journey is long and it’s full of cruel formalities that leave little room for partner flexibility.

I hear from so many partners and spouses that their careers, dreams or education have been placed on hold while on the medicine journey with the doctor in their life. Stories that will tear your heart out. Stories that will make you realize setting up a career that is flexible and putting off the wants/needs in life, isn’t just a by-product of being married to a physician—it’s survival.

When I did put my copywriting career first, something we both agreed would be a good decision in the long-run for both of our goals, that looked a lot like living 1400 miles apart for 2 long years. It’s not for the faint of heart, kiddos!

But, now we find ourselves a little over 8 months away from the finish line. 8 months away from what the hubster has been working towards for over a decade.

For me, it’s exciting. For him, it’s a bit unnerving, I gather.

The, “Now what?” question is looming overhead; an overwhelming grey cloud of many paths, each with its own set of uncertain answers.

We’ve watched our friends and family hit substantial milestones over the past decade that we’ve essentially had on hold. Choosing a place or city to live. Choosing a house to pay off for 30 years. Choosing whether to have kids (or not). Choosing to continue to pay off my student loans while his loom in the background like another mortgage. Choosing an iced coffee or hot coffee once it turns fall. What? I really want to know. That one is a toughie.

Over the years, as we moved from different states for medical school, into residency and those milestones have been in a holding pattern, I found myself using that phrase a lot.

“When we grow up…”

“When I grow up…”

It’s a funny thing to say in your thirties and it’s typically in reference to materialistic things, like declaring for the umpteenth time that you love Japanese toilets and when you grow up that’s all you want in your house.

What? They’re glorious.

But there’s an iota of truth to it. The things we’ve only thought about—backyards, a dog, a car that doesn’t sound like an airplane taking off when you start it—are now getting closer to reality.

Holy exciting. Holy overwhelming, too.

That “someday” attitude is all we’ve ever known. Looking back, it may not have been such a great mentality, but for better or worse, it got us through.

We recently went on a nearly 3-week road trip out west to see if any cities from Oregon down to California tickled our fancy. While I could do without the winding roads that did lead to spectacular views, we found out a lot about what we did like and what we didn’t like. (Maybe also that the idea of living in California was a bit more romantic than actually living there.)

We talked a lot about what our preferences are as individuals and also, as a small family. In my opinion, we’re pretty darn lucky that we even have the opportunity to lay it all out and see what areas may meet that flexible criteria. How many people actually get to do that?

So many of us are bound by ties both with family and friends, as well as careers, that those often dictate the places we choose to live. If moving 1,400 miles to Florida 7 years ago (and then back to Michigan last year) taught me anything—and boy did it—it was those forever friendships, some who have known you since your pimply days wearing Spice Girls t-shirts, will bridge the distance. The distance may certainly change some dynamics, but it doesn’t change the heart that provides life to a friendship.

We found out some things about ourselves that may have changed over the years on this trip too. For instance, I never thought I’d need to live near a Costco, but well…here we are. Costco aside, being able to be outdoors for a majority of the year, is big for me. More than I ever thought, in fact. The hubster, who is an avid golfer and an amazing one at that might I add, needs to be able to golf more than he can now in Michigan’s temperamental winters. Our wants for a better commute, diversity, being near academia and an open-minded community moved their ways to the top. Plus, again, a Costco.

Now we get to choose that, if an ER job opening presents itself.

Holy exciting. Holy overwhelming, too.

While on this road trip, as we drove around neighborhoods, downtowns and parks, as we went on long walks and fun hikes, as we sat silently on hours-long car rides, as we golfed in picturesque settings, as we sat in restaurants pestering waiters with questions, as we bellied up to local dive bars and talked to bartenders, we slowly unraveled what we wanted when we grew up.

Something that seemed out of reach for so long.

Something that was placed on hold while we got our ducks in a row.

Something that took a backseat to traveling and career choices and moving.

Something that is here, at our doorstep, now.

Holy exciting. Holy overwhelming, too.

Buckle up! Grown ups need to wear seatbelts too, you know.

5 Things You Learn While Evacuating A Hurricane

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1. Adrenaline is no f*cking joke.

In the 3ish hours I had to pack up what I could into 2 pieces of luggage, storm prep my place and decide which things needed saving by throwing them in my insulated bathroom – I made decisions like a champ. There wasn’t any second guessing; there wasn’t time to think really. By the time I got to the airport at 4pm, I realized I hadn’t eaten since 7am. Normally, that would induce pure, unadulterated hangry pangs. With the adrenaline running through my veins, I didn’t even notice. I must say, though, that glass of Sauvignon Blanc in the Delta Sky Lounge was utter bliss.

Live shot of our empty place, I moved furniture away from windows.

 

2. Organization in everyday life is key.

There’s a place for everything in our home. Ask the hubster, if I can’t find something quickly, I get annoyed. In a time of emergency, I knew exactly where to go to grab our important files:

  • Marriage license
  • Passports
  • Birth certificates
  • Property lease

So, make fun of me all you want, non-organized people, but I saved myself some precious time and, more importantly, my sanity when furiously grabbing important docs as I evacuated.

3. Getting out is relief and total sadness.

As those plane wheels kissed the last bit of Fort Lauderdale’s runway, and I looked down below at the serene setting of my coastal community, I felt sick. It’s hard to explain, really. I was finally on my way to safety as a (then) Cat 5 hurricane barreled towards my state. I didn’t know when I’d see my home again, and if I did, what sort of fractured state it would be in once I got back. More importantly, I knew so many people were trying to get out as I sat in my seat to safety in row 16. It’s a gut-wrenching feeling. It’s something I never, ever want to feel again. Guilt and utter sadness, wrapped in a blanket of relief.

4. You inherintely know what’s important in life.

In the fast and furious pace of tossing things into luggage or well-insulated bathrooms, my mind and body inherently knew what needed saving, and what didn’t. Most “things” are people and memories anyway, and those aren’t easily wrapped up safely and put in your bathroom. (Unless that’s your jam, and in that case, please stay far away from me.) If you listen to your intuition, it will gently guide you towards items of sentimental value or those that logistically need safe keeping. And yes, I grabbed my childhood blanket and stuffed animal (affectionately named, Bum) and tossed them into my carry-on. You know, in case my checked luggage got lost.

Judgement-free zone, friends!

5. You know who thinks you’re important in their life.

At one point during evacuating, I actually had to respond to many concerned texts by saying, “Please understand, I’ll text when I can.” Calls, direct messages, texts, emails and even a sweet mention from a friend’s kid concerned that I wouldn’t get out – they all meant the world to me during such chaos and quickly reminded me of who thought about me and who didn’t. Two friends traveling separately in Greece and the Czech Republic reached out asking me what was going on, wasting what I thought, were precious international texting fees. ;)

Some touching moments include: my 3-year-old niece sending me a video asking me if I was at the airport (airport = safety), my mother-in-law taking me for a pedicure when I felt less-than-human the day before Hurricane Irma hit and a long-time friend giving me a stuffed bear when I met her for dinner. Isn’t that how all bear hugs are given?!

Right now, from what we know, some water got into our place, but not much. We have older windows, that rattle anytime the wind picks up, so I’m sure as 100 mph winds blew through, they brought some rain in as well. We didn’t have power for 60+ hours, so all the hurricane goods I bought (that needed someone there to pull out of the fridge and into a cooler if we lost power), are goners. I’m literally on a flight back down to Fort Lauderdale now, with my sleeping ER doc hubster next to me. This guy worked until 7am, and is flying down to help me clean up. All-star.

I still fared so much better than so many other people. The Keys were decimated, and so many Caribbean islands may never, ever be the same again. I liken it to third-world conditions; where the need for food, clean water and vaccinations are high and the supplies are frighteningly low.

Thank you for all the concerned messages, I will be fine. Please keep others who were not so fortunate at the top of your mind if and when you donate to organizations. As a reminder, local organizations are best. They very often provide direct relief.

You can find local organizations to donate to here and here.

I Won’t Be Silent. How About You?

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Today, I was going to share the details about a wonderful weekend away that the hubster and I took in Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ontario. Seems a bit untimely now considering everything that has happened in Charlottesville, Virginia.

In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.
- Martin Luther King, Jr.

It’s so easy to shove aside the tragedies of the world and go back to your normal, everyday life when they aren’t right at your doorstep. I often find myself asking, is that really what it takes? It personally has to affect you before you say something? (By the way, this goes for me too. I feel a deep sense of accountability for not doing and saying more over the years.) Yet, I still feel enraged at how nonchalant people, friends and family are when national tragedies like this happen.

The water cooler commentary on Monday morning. The “It’s so sad, isn’t it?” line at your kids soccer games. The small talk about the tragedy with the cashier. The thoughts and prayers for the dead.

That’s it.

Carry on as usual.

That sort of complacency is what allows the fear-mongering, hate-filled, nazi, white supremacists to show up, tiki torches in-hand, at a public university in America. In 2017.

I very much remember learning about the Civil Rights Movement in school. Do you? What did you feel? I remember flipping through the pages of my history book seeing protestors and allies and heroes, flanked on either side, or alone in a jail cell, opposing racist rhetoric and knowing they stood on the moral side of history. These activists aren’t viewed in history as radical. They did the right thing. So, what are you so scared of today to simply say something?

Do you fear rocking the boat? Is doing what’s morally right rocking the boat to you? Do you fear that distant racist cousin may disagree with you? Are you okay being associated with that? Do you fear your friends may make fun of you? What sort of friends are those?

Or do you fear the whole conversation may just make you uncomfortable? And who likes feeling uncomfortable…?

What a nice privilege it is to have the ability to avoid feeling uncomfortable and carry on, life as usual. Perhaps I should use a different term, one that may make people less defensive. How very blessed you are. What a blessing it is, indeed.

I’m not sure the family of Heather Heyer, the counter-protester who was run over and killed by a white supremacist, has quite that luxury today.

By saying nothing, you are doing just that. Nothing. Express your outrage. Getting involved, joining a local group is even better, sure. But for compassion’s sake, for the difference between right or wrong, choose to say something. Beyond just how sad it is. Call these white supremacists and nazis what they are – evil.

Don’t know what to say? Share this blog post. Don’t know how to get involved? Use that Google box.

For a country that knows how to find a Halloween costume for their cat (guilty), we sure act all bewildered when wondering what we can do next in the face of racist acts. Look up local social justice groups, local racial justice groups, local ACLU chapters…do I need to go on? You’re equipped to do it. So, do it.

Say something. Identify yourself as someone who whole-heartedly does not agree with what is taking place. This is not about party lines. This is about your moral obligation as a human who shares the same space on this great earth with other humans, to stand up when some of them are being wronged…or killed.

People know where I stand.

On my way to the Women’s March in D.C.

 

I’m sure some even have unfollowed or unfriended me—good. That bullshit isn’t welcome in my life. I’m sure a lot of us have witnessed and heard those funny-haha political remarks, the “Oh, I’m just saying it to get under your skin,” jokes. What do you do? I know I could do more and say more, even with people knowing where I stand.

So, why don’t people know where you stand? If you think they do, then why are they comfortable making racist remarks in front of you? Say something.

Say that racist, bigoted, neo-Nazi, white supremacists (and their jokes) are not welcome here, and tell your children the same so they know which side you stand on. If you can’t say it, or tell others that you feel that way, dig deep and ask yourself why you’re okay with it then, because that’s exactly what you’re saying, when you say nothing.

Complacency is easy. It’s also a blessing privilege. Which side do you want to be on when they’re writing this chapter in the history books that your children and grand-children will read?

What’s Your Why?

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As I’ve been working on improving my digital footprint, this here website and my social media prowess, I’ve found myself knee-deep in online courses. PSA – Don’t buy every single one that is offered and get so overwhelmed that you barely finish one lesson. (Or so I’ve heard.)

Currently, I’m working through Instagram for Success by Helene in Between and a copywriting course to keep steady on my game.

All that aside, most of the time, these courses ask you what your why is. Why are doing this? Why do you want to complete these lessons? Why are you here?

It got me thinking. Do you ever just ask yourself why, in general?

It can be pretty rattling. You continue on your normal routine and if you ever stop to ask yourself why you’re doing it, it can be jarring. Why? (Pun intended.) Because, most of time, we don’t know why! It’s just how it’s always been done. It’s what you’re supposed to do. It’s part of being an adult with responsibilities, like wearing pants when opening the front door.

Then you dive down the rabbit hole of: What am I doing with my life? How the hell did I get here? Did I unplug my curling iron before I left for work this morning?

But wait! STOP! It’s okay to wonder about these life-changing questions, but actually answer the question.

What’s your why?

In that moment. Why are you doing it? The answer may be “just because” and that in itself is enlightening, right? Is that the best use of your time then? Why are you going to work? Why are your running a website? Why are you running around like a chicken with your head cut off? What’s your why, guys?

Lots of people ask me why I have a website. Most ask me how I keep up with it, really. But, overall, people wonder why I’m spending time on something like this. It wasn’t until I had to articulate my why, when I had to put together what I want to be known for in one of these courses, that I came to the reason.

To inspire women (and men!) to travel, stick up for themselves, take a different path, and find their voice. To encourage this crazy notion that we’re more alike than different; to show the good in the world.

That’s my why.

It doesn’t have to be a perfectly structured why either (in fact, I’m not a huge fan of how I wrote mine) — it just has to be a fulfilling one. Because, after all, why are you doing what you’re doing then?

Now, what’s your why?

 

Currently Caroline, February 2017

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I haven’t done one of these in a few months and with some new readers, I figured now was a great time.

Currently I’m:

Hubster and I out celebrating his board exam being done.

 

Located: On my cushy chair, in my nook. Last year we converted the dining room into my office of sorts.

Listening to: PRINCE IS ON SPOTIFY NOW. So, that.

Thinking about: Our next adventure. The hubster is still coordinating schedules, but in general, he can only take 1 week at a time for vacations. That means, Asia is probably out. I live so close to South America — must take advantage. Stay tuned.

Looking forward to: Cancun in April. We’re going back to the same place where my bootay will be permanently affixed to the chairs by the pool with a margarita in my hand.

Drinking: Sparkling water, via Soda Stream. My CO2 canister ran out yesterday, which means I needed to go to Bed, Bath & Beyond…on a Sunday. Lord Jesus. I survived though. If you ever thought of getting a Soda Stream, do it! I’ve easily saved hundreds of dollars in buying sparkling water.

Thankful for: BEING ABLE TO WORK OUT AGAIN. My apologies for all the caps, but sweet mother, I am so happy to be able to work out again after my injury. I’m still not allowed to run fully until the summer, but at my very last physical therapy appointment last week, she approved me to run in small intervals.

I’ve gained some weight being immobile and it’s made me wildly uncomfortable. I still fully embrace loving yourself regardless of size, but without a regular workout routine, I didn’t feel healthy. I’m really glad I’m back into it again, with regular workouts. I’ve had to incorporate more biking and walking than I used to do when I “only” ran, but it’s been so, so good.

Worried about: Not much, honestly. I really sat here thinking and, aside from our current government administration, I can’t think of anything that’s worrying me.

Laughing about: My picture in the Sun Sentinel (photo 6 in the gallery). I was at a Women’s March follow-up meeting and was listening very intently. You can see it here.

Mad about: Tourists. They are here now. I know you desperately want to take pictures, but I just want to get to work! Ah, the hazards of living where most people vacation. Did that sound snotty? Good.

Curious about: How this meal prep I did today will go this week. I usually do my lunches for the week, but today I did lunch and dinner. So basically, I’m eating the same damn thing all week. But if it saves me time and allows me to eat healthier…LET’S GET ‘ER DUN.