For Sean

Posted December 3rd, 2007 by Michelle

Okay, I’ll try to be better about writing, for the three people who are paying attention.

It’s been a strange year. My job has been incredibly challenging not because of the work, but in some ways, because of the politics. I was in a lunch meeting the other day, and the topic of discussion was the volatility of the arts- of artists, and arts issues- and how it’s never been more difficult to retain staffers at high-profile arts organizations. Even here in my community, three other arts executive directors- which is my position at my agency- have stepped down in as many months. Part of the problem is that as local governments have cut services and resources, the private sector has had to do the work (and foot the bill) and that makes people like me, in essence, politicians. I’ve always said I wouldn’t go into politics, because my skin is too thin for the vitriolic personal attacks that the general public feels it can make against people in public service. It’s no wonder that worthy candidates often avoid the process altogether. But then there are some of us who are thrown into these situations without fully realizing the whole picture of what we are doing.

Of course, it is because of my position that I am an agent of change, and I believe- as do many- that the changes I am making are for the common good. But people everywhere are a) uncomfortable with change and b) have difficulties seeing the greater good, rather than their personal interests. So, it’s a tough spot, and more than once in the past six months I’ve really wanted to run for the hills. I haven’t done that, but I have sequestered myself in my home more than I think is good, simply to avoid being a public person at all times.

So, that’s been tough. And breaking up with my boyfriend was tough. The last quarter of this year has been, all around, tough, and I’m hopeful that the holidays will lift my spirits rather than make it all harder. The thing is, it’s been hard to have my work life so tough and for the bottom to fall out of my personal life, which it did slowly (and then more and more quickly) starting in late summer. It’s a hard thing, to learn to trust someone, and to begin to rely on them, only to realize have them slowly pull the rug out from under your feet. I did the final yanking, but it was threadbare by the time I did.

The last couple of days, I’ve been having those sort of existential moments: what do I really want to do? Where do I really want to be? How can I make better choices for myself? How can I make my work life work? How can I make my love life work? And I have exactly no answers.

Anyway, I haven’t written because I didn’t have much new to say. I’ve been probing the depths of my life and my psyche and didn’t feel the need to share my dull but focused navel-gazing. I want to make some decisions for 2008. I feel I have some important things to accomplish in my work life in the coming year… but I feel reasonably open as to what might be happening this time next year. And, umm, I want to have a baby, I want to start a family, so I gotta kind of figure that one out.

choices

Posted November 8th, 2007 by Michelle

I’ve made a lot of poor choices in my life. I’ve made bad choices in dating, in work, in acting, in just about every facet of my life. I do by best not to beat myself up for those choices, but there they are, and sometimes they haunt me. Most of the time they leave me alone.

A couple of weeks ago I chose to break up with my boyfriend. I chose this for so many reasons, but the main reason was we were not well-matched. I think even he knew this. There were lots of secondary reasons, lots of misrepresentations, some taking for granted, but overall, we wanted different things from our lives, and had different approaches- or levels of willingness- to make our lives what we wanted.

The problem is, I still cared for him when I ended the relationship, and to some extent, of course, still do care. But I simply cannot have half a relationship, even if it means being alone, again. I have to believe that there has to be a stronger partner for me out there. And what I do know is that it is far better to be and feel alone when I truly am alone, than to feel alone when I’m in a relationship, and that is something “up with which I cannot put”.

The ending of this relationship comes at a strange time in my work life, when things went from a mad roar to a quiet break, and suddenly my life, which was very full with strife and challenge and work and balancing acts, is suddenly… quiet. I know the mad roar will begin again, but for now, I’m left with more time than I’m accustomed to and it feels really strange. Not necessarily bad, just unfamiliar.

But I have to believe that this time, I made a really good choice. I showed up for this relationship, I fought for it, I loved him extremely well, and when it became clear that it was never going to go in the direction I needed it to go, I bowed out, with love and faithfulness and clarity. I’ve never had that experience before, and I’m doing my best to believe that it will only lead to the next great thing.

Upward Mobility

Posted August 6th, 2007 by Michelle

So… I’m moving. It’s the first time I’ve ever moved of my own accord, as in, my lease isn’t up, I’m not in a panic to find a home for various cats, I’m not moving across the country. Instead, I’m moving about ten blocks away to my very first house.

It’s butter yellow on the outside, hardwood floors and everything new on the inside. It was built in 1927 and just a year and a half ago it was a terrible eyesore. Now, it’s a beauty. My dad even said that all of the renovations were top notch- “I’d give it a B+, maybe even an A-“, and from my dad, that means a lot. He also said that the workmanship was top notch, and he knows from workmanship.

It has a stone courtyard in the front, which leads up to a porch, which opens into the main room. They knocked down the wall between the living room and kitchen, so it’s a vast open room, all hardwood except for the kitchen which is stone tile. Granite counter tops, dishwasher, new big gas stove, tons of beautiful cabinets. The main kitchen- fridge, dishwasher, sink, etc. is on the left wall as you walk in, and facing you is another granite counter top and cabinets, but crazily, the middle section of the granite (and the full cabinets underneath it) rolls out to be a butcher block wherever you need it.

There are two good-sized bedrooms, with new carpet and paint (as there is throughout); one room, which will be the “blue room” is so named because both the carpet and the walls are a deep blue. That room is at the front of the house. Next room is a full bath (with shower); next is a laundry room (and will also be our crafts room); and then the master bedroom opens at the back of the house. The master has a shower AND jacuzzi bathtub (holy crap!) and a huuuuge walk-in closet with full-length French doors. And both bathrooms have granite sinks and counter tops.

Through the kitchen, the back door opens to a small porch and then into the back yard, which is partially covered with a yellow awning, big enough to house a long dinner table and barbecue. The rest of the yard is laid stone and earth, and the landlord is going to build me raised flower beds. And there is a shed big enough for our bikes and (hopefully, whenever we get it) our kayak.

I went there today and walked around, plotting, and then I looked at the lower cabinets in the kitchen, and thought, “No, no way…” but then I opened one, and then another, and realized that yes, yes indeed, all the lower shelves roll out. This has been a dream of mine ever since I fell in love with cooking.

So, I know I haven’t been posting, ye gods know I haven’t had time in ages to do any writing for myself. But I’ve been selfishly spending my time falling more deeply in love with my boyfriend, and according to my therapist, that isn’t actually selfish at all, so I think I’ll keep doing it. At some point I will post pictures of my new house; I’ll also write about my three weeks in Peru; and I even intend to write about my Mormon family reunion this weekend. But for now, all I can dream about is my house. And how everyone I love will be most welcome there.

things that make me go

Posted January 26th, 2007 by Michelle

Call me wacky, but I am so delightfully happy to be home alone on a Friday night, well into a second glass of really terrific Pinot Noir and watching “An American in Paris”. My body aches from head to foot- this is the first time I’ve done three spin classes in one week- and I hurt in places I never knew I had muscles. This happens to me after really rigorous yoga as well- last night, as I stretched out on my stomach (over a bunched-up pillow so the girls could breathe) I realized that I was sore between my shoulder blades in a way I’d not experienced… that I’m sure was directly related to “eagle warrior”. All this to say, it’s incredible to feel my body change, and to work extremely hard all week, and be home where it is warm and I have a little space to be dreamy, both about what is going on right now, and what might happen in the fall.

Anyway, there are a few things I’d like to recommend to the world at large, because they are making me very happy:

The Treo 680.

Christ, I love this phone. My dear sis gave me a Treo 650, but a couple of the buttons didn’t work and the place where the SIM card lived had seen too many soy coffee drinks- or so said the guy at Cingular. Regardless, her phone finally got me to kick Sprint to the curb (after 9 years of torture) and showed me the SmartPhone light. This device is incredible- lightweight, crazy fast, no visible antenna, intuitive, superfast email & web, great sound quality, etc. I love it.

My iMac at work.

Bestest, sexiest, hottest, fastest, most awesomest desktop computer EVER. I love all the new versions of software, love the quality & size of the screen, love it, love it, love it. Want to have babies with it. Want to make it breakfast.

All Stonewear Designs yoga clothes:

Their cotton jersey line is the greatest line of yoga pants (and tops) I’ve ever owned. Stretchy, clingy without being form-fitting, terrific for those of us with small frames but ample, um, apendages. I can wear the bra tops, and only the bra tops (without another sports bra) on the treadmill (as long as I’m not all-out running for any length of time.) I like their stuff so much, I wrote them a dorky letter, which so effusive it was forwarded all around the company.

Candy corn.

Why do I love this fake-wax-not-even-food so much? I could eat bags of this stuff every day. Just thinking about it makes me all kinds of happy. I’m insane for candy corn. I can’t stop myself. And if you look hard enough, you can find it year-round.

That’s what I got for a Friday night. I suggest using & enjoying all of the above on the same day.

yeesh.

Posted January 5th, 2007 by Michelle

After working a 10 1/2 hour day, I went to an opening tonight for all of the folks who create art at Napa Valley Support Services. This came on the heels of a online discussion with some friends about the parents who have surgically altered their extremely developmentally disabled little girl. These parents opted for surgeries that keep the girl eternally young, small, and asexualized, and I had a very strong negative reaction to what they had chosen to do. But tonight I spent the evening surrounded by art- beautiful, moving, colorful, vibrant art- made by men and women in their 30’s and 40’s who either live in group homes or with their parents, many of whom are completely non-verbal.

You certainly wouldn’t have looked at all the art and known that it was made by severely mentally disabled people. It was all expressionistic, but that’s nothing really unusual. But- they have these huge flat files for each artist/patient/student, and the guy who runs the program pulled out some of the files to show us, and then you figured out pretty quickly that the artist was… well, I would say “obsessed” if I didn’t know better. Each flat file was filled with picture after picture of basically the exact same image, or something very close. One woman only drew horizons, one color for the ground, one for the sky, one for the sun, all in thick, thick crayon, but there were thousands- quite literally thousands- of the pictures. She had numerous books filled as well as loose papers. Every one was slightly different, or very different, as far as the colors. It was like a color study. But the violence with which she used the crayons and the repetition of the image was haunting.

I met a couple of the artists, and I met the man who is running the program, and I feel so completely ashamed and humbled, that I would know the first f*cking thing about what it would mean to take care of someone who is that disabled. And these people feel- god, do they feel, it’s all over their art- and I wonder what it must be like, to be trapped like that, or maybe, to be completely and utterly set free like that. I don’t know which it is. I have no clue. People talk about me doing “great work”. I know I do important work, that is meaningful and what not, but the man I met tonight, who is running this art program, broke my heart. He showed me, simply by how he spoke of the student’s work, and of the progress so many of them have made over the past year, and by how he enveloped me in love when I first walked in the door, just what doing really great work in this world means. There is so much I don’t know, so much I haven’t seen, so much hardship that I’ve never come close to experiencing. It’s difficult to take. I’m a little bit afraid of these folks, these severely disabled people, and even more so now that I’ve seen what is inside of them, waiting to be expressed, and I don’t want to be afraid. But there is so much to fix, I don’t know where to start.

Happy New Year!

Posted January 1st, 2007 by Michelle

I am just back from eleven days in New York, where I experienced a familexplosion. I was staying with Sean, Jordi, Barnaby, Mom, and Steve, and also got lots of face time with Kent, Sean Patrick, Lucas, Ian, Tessa, and Lucy. And that’s just the immediate family. It was intense, and truly wonderful. And here’s every last little one of us.

Early in the trip, the Iowa Williams showed up, and I had a terrific evening in the city with the elder Williams kids and elder nephews.

Brothers Steve and Kent… and, well, vintage Kent…

Sean Patrick and Lucas were awesome as always. Lucas is always available for the keenest comments on all things random and hilarious, and I hope Sean will be on my team when I save the world. Sean Patrick for president 2020!

Sweet Barnaby was the highlight of the trip, particularly his penchant for squeezing his own face whenever his hands are free. He also has a habit of sleeping on one fist, just like his Daddo.

Christmas Eve in Brooklyn was a quasi-dressy family & friends event during which Lucy was in rare form. Her favorite fellow 2-year-old Hank was in tow, and Lucy spent much of the evening with her arms wrapped tightly around him. I was able to snap this pic during one of the few times she actually let go, for sake of banging on the piano with Hank and Daddo.

Tessa and Lucy, adorably, matched that evening, and I’m always stunned that any ‘ol pic of Tessa that even I, with my untrained eye, happen to snap, always shows Tessa’s stately beauty. These two just kill me.

I spent a great deal of time with Barnaby at the Christmas Eve party, letting his parents be human beings for a couple of hours. Only days old, this little one already locks on your face with his huge dark eyes, and if you swing him (which he dearly loves) he will watch the shadows play on your face, on the walls, whatever he can see. He is the sweetest of the sweet.

Ian, Lucy, and a “Spicasso” print.

The joy I felt in hanging out with this little one is apparent; the joy she felt about eating a “clem-men-ti-YEEEN” was no less rich. She wouldn’t stop for love, money, OR a picture.

Finally, Christmas Day was upon us, and I think all of us scored an embarrassment of goodies and gifts. My very first completed knitting project was a shawl for little Lucy, and she loved it. She loved it more when she decided to wear it as a skirt.

This might be my favorite pic from that day. Barnaboots was the greatest gift, for all of us, this year. I can’t wait until he’s big enough to rip the wrapping off of presents and he and Lucy make forts with all of the gift boxes.

Soon, though, Christmas was over, and the Queens Williams household settled back into baby time. At any given moment, someone in that house was almost always up, or about to wake, to cater to the little one. I, however, slept about ten hours a night and spent spurts of time working in a nearby coffee shop. But one of the nicest hours I spent was with my mom at the Bryant Park ice rink & holiday shops. It wasn’t too cold, we had the most terrific hot chocolates, and mom told me about the farm she lived on when she was little. Festive, fun, and we got to watch hundreds of people giggle madly as they slowly scooted around the rink.

I also got the rare chance to hang out with my dear friend Eddie. We went to many of my old haunts in the East Village; the night ended in another state. Good times, good times.

Because I can’t help myself, another pic of little La Luce, sitting on a present, quietly reading a book during the Christmas Day chaos.

And finally, a pic of terrible quality since it was taken on my Treo, but my favorite pic of the season. Sweet Barnaby, our little Christmas baby.

I can’t wait to go back.

all seem to say, throw cares away

Posted December 21st, 2006 by Michelle

Tonight I was wrapping Christmas gifts with my mom, and every second present she’d holler “OOPS” and go into fits of giggles. Often she simply couldn’t remember what the gift was once the last piece of tape was on. Another time she’d pasted two tags on one gift; usually, she couldn’t find the scissors she’d just set down. The ritual of gathering everything I’ve bought for everyone on my wish and wrapping them, one by one, is satisfying, dreamy, and slightly melacholy, because it usually means the big day is only handfuls of hours away.

This year, though, the big gift is little Barnaby, whose enormous bright eyes and massive strength belie his extreme youth. He’s incredible. Sadly, I’ll have to wait until after the holidays to post all of my pics, as I did not bring the proper cord for my new camera, but it will be worth the wait. He often sleeps with one fist curled under his chin, resting his head as if he’s falling asleep in class.

I had an amazing day today, for a number of reasons, but one of them was walking around the Union Square holiday market and picking out perfect little bits for people I love. And holding Barnaby for half an hour as he pondered my face. I love being in a house with so much of my family under one roof, and little Lucy to see tomorrow.

Ah, me. As complicated as the holidays are, for every last one of us on this earth, I think, this was a simple, exciting, lovely day. We should all be so blessed.

little ones

Posted December 16th, 2006 by Michelle

It’s hard to write about being away from Sean & Jordi during the birth of their first son, but, well, here I am. I’m going to be in New York in four days, but that’s four days from holding little Barnaby who has already staked quite a claim on my heart. I’ve been seriously thinking about how this is possible, from so far away, but it is, simply. The same with Lucy- I see her so rarely, but this sweet girl…

I claim for my own. Not “mine”, just part of my clan, part of my fierce love. And part of the reason I need to make this world a better place to live.

Even with my heartache, my longing to be with the Williams little ones, I’ve found a new sort of peace these last three days. I don’t know exactly how to explain it, but I’m ready to start making decisions based on life as I know it, rather than hope. I don’t know that hope alone actually changes anything, and I don’t know that hope actually alters outcomes, but I do know that action is just that- it’s change, it’s movement, and it’s all I can control. I can’t control who falls into my life, I can’t control people’s reactions towards me, but I can control how I spend my days, and I can try to shape what lingers in my mind.

I spent this evening with part of my California family, otherwise known as Punky and Matty.

These are the kind of friends one prays for, if one were the praying type. It’s less painful to be away from my blood when I have friends like these. And terrific lipstick. But these next few days are going to be distracted and strange, waiting for the moment that I can be with Sean, and the baby boy who, in my mind, has been waiting to hang out with Sean for a long time.

Four days. Even I, the least patient woman this side of the Mississippi, can wait four days. Maybe.

Folie d’un

Posted December 6th, 2006 by Michelle

I just came from a delightful but strange evening. One of my dear friends and colleagues had a huge presentation tonight- she runs a program in a local school and they had a performance, and many folks from my coaching network showed up. The show was hilarious and adorable- ten-year-olds running amuck- and afterwards a bunch of us went to dinner.

We went to a local restaurant that is slightly fancy and has live music every night of the week (which is a huge anomoly in these parts). And as I looked around the table, I realized I was there with (1) twenty-something year old philanthropist who has more money than anyone I currently know put together (and who is also delightful and smart), (2) staff members of a youth-led emancipating foster youth service organization and (2) youth staff of the same organization, one of whom is 19 years old, the other 16. All the youth staff of this organization are transitional foster youth themselves, and I’ve coached all of them on their various public speaking engagements & performances. Their backgrounds are horrific; they are sharp and funny and awesome.

Looking around at this table, I was awed by how different all of us were; how wildly different our childhoods and all of our experiences up until that moment were; and how rare it is to sit at a table with such a diverse group of people. Diverse racially, in sexual orientation, in age, and in socio-economic background, yes, but more so just so wildly diverse in experience & life. And we all had so much to talk about. I was so tired, I feel so worn by all the huge stuff going on at work, that I kept inviting everyone else to talk to me, rather than I to them, because I just wasn’t up for talking, AGAIN, about work, since that’s most of my life. By the end of the meal, though, I was energized, finally coming to life, and remembering just how much I love my network out here.

I don’t know that I’ve ever loved so many people.

We had a conversation about “best friends”, and did each of us have one? And I spoke of Stacey, and of Rachel, and others, but there are so many now that I’m so drawn to, and love so much, and my life has never really been like that. I need to make a practice of not isolating and actually spending time with these people, like I did tonight. It’s really nice to feel, well, *known*, and to not have to be *on*. It’s becoming more and more clear to me what I want it to feel like when I’m with people I love and who love me. And realizing that I have a lot of introverted tendencies, no matter what most people think, and honoring those as opposed to trying to pretend that I’m always a social animal.

At the same time, I’m aching to be back in New York right now, for so many reasons, to be there in the cold and with my family. I was there over Thanksgiving just long enough to get used to it, and it’s so hard to feel so strongly about two places with 3000 miles between them. I have a lot of faith that wherever I go, I’ll bring who I am now to that place, and build something there like I have here. But I still feel terribly torn. Nights like tonight throw into sharp relief the number of people who love & know me, and I don’t know that I’ve ever wanted anything more.

3 cents? 3 CENTS?!

Posted November 30th, 2006 by Michelle

I’m having this weird sensation lately, like I can’t figure out if I *actually* care what is going on, or if I’m just *acting* like I care what is going on. I don’t know how much it would change my work, between the two, and maybe it’s a combination of both at most times. Right now there is a political battle in my county, and I’m in the middle of it- both me as a figure as well as my organization- and this county is so back-assward when it comes to arts that I almost have to NOT care if I’m going to get through it. Every time I have to speak to politicos, or funders, or anyone else who has an axe to grind or a claim to stake, I have to sort of distance myself or I’ll feel as though I’m the grinder or the ground.

I can’t believe, I honestly can’t believe, that there is no public funding for the arts in my county. I can’t believe, sometimes, that I eek out a living in a sector that is wholly unsupported by any governmental infrastructure. And I’m trying to do it in a state that is an embarrassment of riches and a stupefying posity of support for that which makes life richer, stronger, better. California, the fifth largest economy in the world, spends 3 cents per person on the arts. France, the sixth largest economy spends $56 per person. California is LAST IN THE NATION when it comes to arts spending. How can this not be, at the very least, terribly embarassing?

And here’s the thing: I’m about ready to give up the fight. Not tomorrow, not next month, but of all the battles in the world that I want to fight, do I want to sweat bullets because I have to go alone to a governmental meeting next Tuesday where I’ll be surrounded by haters, to lobby for a measley portion of public funds for the arts? I certainly have plenty of conviction when it comes to this particular battle, and I’m ready to rally the troops and raise the defenses but if this one fails… well. I don’t really believe it will, but I’m staring up a long, slick mountain- hardly any crags to hold onto when I’m trying to climb- and I once again am questioning the worth of the trip.

Enough metaphor. It’s just that I wonder how many people actually care if the arts sector is strong in this county. If only I knew that I was fighting for this because many, many people care deeply about it, I’d have more juice left. I just don’t know. In a way, I fight it for the kids who don’t know what they are missing when they don’t have arts in their schools. I’m fighting for the 47% of the population that have something like 1% representation at the governmental level and no real representation of their own cultural heritage in this town. And I’m fighting because if I didn’t put pencil to paper and bow to string and tap shoes to wood when I was a kid, I don’t know what the hell I’d be doing with my life.

Still, though, christ, people, get with the program. This stuff MATTERS. It’s not fluff, it’s not excess, it is priority.

*yeesh*