Packing up my old kit bag....

Well, I'm taking this change thing on the road.  I'm on my first official gig after losing Mom.  It's been just over 3 months since she left this mortal coil and I am still adapting to my new self.  Operation Flashy Jacket  has finally started in earnest. 12 pounds down and counting! When I returned to New York I tried to start about one thousand new projects all on the same day.  Losing weight, organizing my life, finding the perfect life mate and becoming the woman my Mother always wanted me to be.  Of course, all of this project piling left me feeling depleted, defeated and down right destroyed.  I'm hear to tell you folks, it's impossible to lose 100 pounds, start a relationship and restructure your life in ONE DAY.  Shocking I know!

So, I took a little time to make a few little changes at a time.  Firstly, leaving the house.  Not as easy as one would imagine.  Secondly, packing for a gig.  Truly daunting this time.  All of my clothes seemed to have turned against me and my well oiled packing machine apparently was in the shop.  Thirdly, getting on the damn plane.  As I walked through the airport I just knew someone was going to stop and ask me what was wrong.  Strangely, I was shocked when they didn't.  Can't you people see that I'm different?  Yes, my fellow TSA friends, it's not the same Melissa Parks that you usually torment with your inefficient and intrusive ways.  I'm not the same.  I feel like my grief is tattooed on my skin for all to see.  But it isn't.  No one knows.  In one way I'm grateful for that, in another I want to shout it from the rooftops. There is no rhyme or reason to this strange little dance we call grief.

Salt Lake City greeted me with snow showers. Now it's almost 80.  I love this ever changing weather.  It's much like my mood...snowy one day and sunny the next.  Such is life.  The production looks wonderful and the cast is witty and very talented.  It's good to be back in the swing of things.  My voice still sounds like an alien to me.  I swear it's changed in timbre. I think for the better.  After all, swords forged by fire are always the sharpest.

~Mel

Home-ish

The concept of home is a flexible one with me.  Because of the amount of travel that I do and my transient lifestyle my idea of home as a place is not necessarily the norm.  When I started my professional career I thought carrying many items with me would make me feel more at home.  Candles, pictures, a ridiculous amount of wardrobe changes and kitchen utensils were standards in my kit.  Ironically these things just weighed me down and the introduction of weight limits and luggage fees truly limited my material baggage.  But in all seriousness I've carried tailored suits across the country that I've never worn, many candles were left behind unburned and more than one kitchen knife has found it's way into a hotel trash bin.  I've been a roadie for almost 30 years.  Between choir tours, speech tourneys, vocal competitions and the like I've logged in hundreds of hours of suitcase time.  When I was in high school the only extras I travelled with were my pillow and a bag of cheetos...thats it.  Maybe a book or two and my walkman if I was feeling luxurious.  I learned early on that if you bring it, you have to carry it!

Now that I'm home from Texas and my life has been altered I'm having a hard time finding my home.  I adore my apartment.  I've lived here 10 years and Ron and I have painstakingly painted, molded, furnished and positioned ever little detail.  It is a haven, a safe calm place in a very frenetic city.  We can easily host an elegant cocktail party or a superbowl beer blowout without much effort.  I have a closet filled with beautiful clothes, a desk stocked with fresh supplies, and a down comforter to entice me.  There are family pictures around the room and relics from my travels and that of my family to remind me of the amazing times I've experienced.  I'm surrounded by the things and people that I love.

Yet, I feel like I've left something unpacked. I'm not quite settled in.  It's true that I have been in and out of my apartment with very little turn around time and one of the tell tale signs of this are the many ziploc bags filled with toiletries that I have stashed in every little corner of my room!  Damn that TSA with their 3 oz restrictions!  So, I've spent the past few days consolidating 3 oz moisturizers and trying to find my way in my new life.  It sounds a bit dramatic but with the events of the past year I'm left depleted and a bit lost.  On the other hand, I've never felt stronger.  Anyone who survives any difficult hurtles  understands that strength can be gleaned from said struggle.  But I'm out of sorts.  It's as if little elves ventured into my closet and altered everything by just a few centimeters here and there.  Just enough to create an unease without any perceptible differences.  Are these jeans really this short?  Were these heels always this high?  I'm sure I put this pair of  tights on before without the run in them.  The day to day adjustments are draining and my new view of the world is a bit at odds with the Melissa of one year ago.

Maybe it is a sign that it's time to change.  To embrace the concept of the fluidity of life and relish it.  Making lifestyle changes that will only benefit me in my future.  Savoring that cup of coffee or the sound of the one million birds that have seemed to take up residence in the tree right outside my bedroom window.  There are very few certainties in life and change is one of them.  I know that I have the choice to embrace said variances with the grace and ease that I learned from my Mother or to go kicking and screaming into the abyss.  Well, when you put it that way I suppose I don't have much of a choice at all, do I?

~Mel