The Heart and Sole of It

I don't react well to failure.

I've been facing a lot of rejection lately, and everything is changing. I'm so stressed that I forgot my way around town yesterday (and it's difficult to get lost here since everything is a GRID).

Parameters, measured. Surveys, taken. Assessments, completed. Hopes dashed.

I knew this wouldn't be easy. But with a degree under my belt, you wouldn't think it would be so damned hard.

So here's the crux, alluded to: I need to find another part-time position to supplement my income. Or a good, old-fashioned, full-time job. I don't want to do this: I need to do this. I need to be able to support my child, as she is growing at an alarming rate.

She has big shoes to fill. No, literally. Shoes bigger than mine: a size 6. We went bowling the other day and the size 5 shoes, my size, were too tight for her.

But I wonder who will fill my shoes at my current position if I should need to leave. I love my co-workers and certain aspects of my job, of course. This is difficult for me. I work at my favorite store, for Pete's sake. But my gut is telling me that I need to make better use of my skills. And my wallet is telling me that I can't afford my bills and groceries, even with child and temporary spousal support. Life is wonderful and yet expensive.

Also expensive beyond measure: the cost of not seeing my daughter consistently. I need a job where I can support her emotionally as well as financially. Currently, that is difficult since I work until late at night, every night that I work. She told me that she feels isolated and abandoned. I can't really blame her. She rarely sees her dad and now rarely sees her mom. Again, I feel like a failure.

And of choices? Yes, I made the choice to leave my marriage for highly personal reasons. And I don't regret it. I still believe that though I am struggling (which I was warned by a lawyer that I would do), this is a better environment for my daughter. She needs her mom, and her mom needs her. She defines me in so many ways.

I wish so much that I could live my dreams, but frankly, dreams don't pay the bills. I dream about so many things, every night. I dreamt that my father was alive and we lived in a fantastic house. Yet there were so many leaks that the foundation was cracking. I woke up crying because, in the dream, I realized that my father was gone.

Her mother cannot be gone all the time. She needs some predictability: she needs to know that I have her back AND that I have the means to buy her new shoes.

And that's it, and that's all.

A Standing Ovation Is Also an Uprising

I first heard about “Hamilton: An American Musical” through friends on Facebook. Then there was the controversy surrounding Mike Pence’s attendance at a particular performance of the popular Broadway musical. And I thought to myself, here’s something worth listening to. I promptly bought the soundtrack, and immediately fell in love with the epic and captivating tale.

I did not realize that by playing the musical for my daughter, I would create a monster. A musical-loving little eleven-year-old. Just like her mother, a musical and history nerd. But I suppose there are worse things in the world.

She replaces the naughty words with silence. She researches covers of the songs on YouTube. She has researched deleted scenes. She tells everyone she knows about it, especially her teachers. She wants desperately to play Eliza Schuyler someday. She raps the lyrics to “Aaron Burr” with perfection, though she is clueless as to any adult references.

Because she is not into the whole infidelity and death thing, she refuses to listen to the second act. The first act, I will admit, has many of the catchier tunes. It is all glory and inspiration: the second act invokes Shakespearian tragedy. Though she doesn’t like the more adult themes, eventually I suspect she will have the musical memorized in its entirety.

Her respect for Lin-Manuel Miranda is profound, as it should be. He authored the entire musical himself and played the lead: quite the accomplishment for anyone. I was a music major and have only composed one song and a ton of bad poetry. In contrast, Miranda’s lyrics are terse, witty, and full of historical and theatrical references. I’m glad my daughter has found someone worthy of hero-worship.

And the voices? Violet loves them, and rightfully so. Performed by a multi-cultural cast, the sonorous complexity of the vocal performances is swoon-worthy. George Washington and Aaron Burr are my new imaginary romantic interests. The show stopping scene stealer, though, is Angelica Schuyler’s toast at Hamilton’s wedding: voiced by Renée Elise Goldsberry, who totally rocks it. I haven’t convinced my daughter that this role is the one she should be going for. But there’s time yet.

Sigh. As much as I love listening to and singing along with Hamilton’s first act, I’ve bought Violet some musicals that are new to us. I’ve always heard good things about “Into the Woods” and “Wicked.” So that is next on the musical agenda. Perhaps I’ll even pen some reviews of them.

But the point of my rambling this morning is this: listen to Hamilton. It is a uniquely told lesson about love, war, history, and intimacy. Here’s to hoping they tour close enough that I can take my daughter to see it someday, (someday)…