I am an adoptive mom. For reasons too complex to delve into here and now, my husband and I chose adoption as a way to fulfill our dream of being parents. We had been home from a three-week trip through Alaska and the Yukon for three days when we got “the call” from our adoption attorney. We hadn’t even finished unpacking our camper and we were now thrust into parent mode! We set off with a child car seat, and bought a bouquet of flowers near the hospital for the woman who was going to change our lives forever.

We were given an avalanche of information from “M” at the hospital when we went to pick up our daughter. We learned that she had 4 other children. Not one of them had the same father, or had ever been raised by her. No one in her very large family knew about this last pregnancy, and she wanted to keep it that way. We were fine with that.

Her lack of planning landed her in jail on a parole violation shortly after this, her last, child was born. She did her time, got her life in order, got religion, and began to reach out. I sent her some pictures a few times and she would text me on the sentimental holidays. It was about as much contact as I was comfortable with. All the while, my daughter showed no interest in making contact with her biological relatives.  She has known from very early on that she was adopted. She has asked a few questions about her birthmother. But for the most part she is indifferent to her and her blood relatives. If you ask her what her heritage is, she will most likely answer ” half Italian, half French, half Japanese”. Her only interest in her heritage is, appropriately enough for a teen, related to food!

I received a text the other day from M informing me that she was going to be in California for several days, and could we meet up? I didn’t reply for at least 24 hours. My first thought was did she want to meet the child/young woman she had relinquished to our care nearly 17 years ago? If so, how would I pose that question to my daughter? I am a mother because of this woman. The gratitude I feel for her knows no bounds, yet I need/want boundaries. I have nurtured a human being from her third day of life, but M, though she carried her for 9 months, only knew her for two days. Emotions began to seep in and try as I might; they sometimes got the better of me. I finally made contact, suggested a park that was halfway for both of us. She told me she was staying with one of her daughters and that she would be coming too. Suddenly, the anxiety was cranked up a few notches. I have had no interest in meeting any of the half siblings. This one in particular. She had contacted me several years ago out of the blue and wanted to meet our daughter. When I explained that wasn’t going to happen until our daughter said she was interested in making contact, but she was more than welcome to send letters and I would save them for when she wanted to know more about her biological family…it wasn’t what she wanted and I hadn’t heard from her since. Now I was going to meet her. At this point my stomach was in full acid producing mode. The day came, I hugged M, shook hands with her daughter, son in law and another friend, after our introductions they wandered off and left M and I to visit alone together, much to my relief.

I had made a photo book for M and was going to mail it to her for Mother’s Day. Now I was going to be able to give it to her in person. I had selected several baby pictures, some with my husband and me included, several years of Halloween costume pictures, school pictures and some random shots. I had a great time putting the book together and knew it would be something she would love. She told me she was going to bring some pictures of her family to give me. I was totally unprepared and was overwhelmed by seeing so many pictures of people I didn’t know and really didn’t want to know. It was worse than being a captive audience to someone’s vacation slide show, because I felt I had to act as if I really cared. Now, before you judge me as being an uncaring bitch, know that each person’s adoption story, from all angles, is unique. There is no cookie cutter way to respond/deal with the myriad of dynamics/emotions involved. I am sure there were high emotions on M’s side as well.  But this is my story, told from my perspective. She kept asking me if my daughter looked like, acted like, had similar characteristics to certain blood relatives. How would I know? A static picture of an individual tells a flat story.  When we were done going through the photos of all the aunts and uncles, half siblings, and cousins, she opened the book I made for her. I watched her intently, looking for signs of distress, not wanting her to be sad, but willing to let her have whatever emotions came up. The early pictures seemed to be the hardest for her to look at. Her lower lip trembled and her fingers shook as she turned the first few pages. As the faces she was looking at aged, she seemed to relax a bit. Some pictures she lingered on, and I commented on a few that were my favorites, wanting to give her a bit more background than the book format allowed. When she got to the last photo, the most recent school picture, she became very still and stared at it. I let her have the silence, watching her face searching the picture. It seemed to me she was looking for a connection. I am of course biased, and after looking at all the photos of the various blood relatives, all I could think of was that my daughter was exceptionally happy, and beautiful.

She thanked me and then texted her daughter that she was ready to leave. Her daughter, son in law and friend appeared, we said a few pleasantries, and then our good byes. I hugged M again, and wished her well, and thanked her for the pictures. I stayed behind for a while to walk around, process the last hour and take a few pictures before driving home.

I was totally unprepared for the reaction I got from my daughter about my visit with her birthmother. She had said earlier that she didn’t want to meet her. AOK with me. She asked questions that made me see that she really identifies with us, and not her blood heritage. She became weepy at one point and my heart about split open. There seems to be some resentment about how M lived her life, and was now seeking redemption. (We need to discuss how redemption is a good thing if done without ulterior motives.) She has no interest in seeing the pictures I brought home, and I am fine with that as going through them again so soon seems daunting.

Having had some time to reflect on the hour I spent with M, it has become clear to me that I have no interest in any future face-to-face contact. I am not heartless. I am more certain of my limitations than ever before. I have learned how to say no and not apologize. My family comes first. I had no idea what it would be like, now I know I don’t need to have that experience again. I will send a few pictures now and then, but personal contact is too upsetting to my family and me. I will be forever grateful for her trusting us to give her child a life she was unprepared to offer.

It was interesting to go through all this on Mother’s Day weekend. My daughter and I have connected on a deeper level. I took a huge step and confronted people that I have so many conflicting emotions about and came through it with grace.

I went back in to the bedroom and made my bed, wondering why I was making the bed if I planned on getting back in it and recuperating.  My mind drifted as I tried to remember which comedian I’d heard joking about that.  Was it Jim Gaffigan?  Thinking about Jim Gaffigan got me thinking about bacon, and on and on my thought process went when my thoughts were suddenly startled by the piercing sound of my smoke detector.

I ran the five feet from my bedroom to the kitchen.

My stove was on fire.  The stupid freakin oven mitt that I stupidly freakin leave on the stove every blessed time I use it had been too close to the electric burner and was ON FIRE.  The fire quickly spread across the rim of the burner TO THE WALL!  MOTHER OF GOD!  I ran out to the apartment building hallway where the fire extinguisher sits daring us to have an occasion to use it.

I COULDN’T GET IT TO WORK.  YOU’LL EXCUSE THE CAPS BUT I WAS HAVING A BIT OF A FREAKOUT.

“Angels!  Help me!” I screamed.

“Baking soda.” The words popped into my head as I grabbed the baking soda that I had in the cat’s closet, ripped the box open and threw it on the fire.

It went out immediately.  Other than a little bit of the mostly incinerated oven mitt, which I threw in the sink, and turned on the cold water.

I exhaled.  Then I inhaled, and realized my apartment was smoky.  My smoke detector continued to go off and was soon joined by my building’s smoke alarm.  Oh my God… SO embarrassing!   I threw the windows open as my neighbor knocked on the door and asked if I was OK.  She asked if she should call the fire department.  “Yes!” I called.  The fire was out but the smoke wasn’t going away and I needed to get us, me and the cat, OUT of the apartment.

Now to secure the cat, who was in the middle of his own freakout from the noise.  He hid behind the couch.  I moved the couch to get him.  He jumped to the window WHICH I HAD JUST OPENED AND DON’T NORMALLY BECAUSE THERE IS NO SCREEN AND HE ALMOST WALKED OUT OF THE WINDOW.

“QUENTIN!  DO NOT MOVE!” I yelled, don’t ask me why I would yell at a cat that was already freaking out but miraculously he stayed still and I grabbed him.  Not wanting to be in my nightgown when the fire department arrived, I asked my neighbor, who had come over again asking if she could help, to take him to her apartment.

Well, he didn’t really like that.  “MEEEEEOOOOWWWWWW!” he yelled at me as I dashed back into my apartment to get clothes, his carrier, and some sort of what do I need, I don’t know, why won’t the alarms STOP? OK, my cell phone, my wallet, should I take a crystal for luck, no, no time for that, clothes, shoes, do I need shoes, whatever, forget the shoes…

And I joined my panicked cat with my calm neighbor.  The fire department came and I let them in and they axed my wall to see if there was anything on fire in there.  Then they took a bunch of pictures and I got scared I’d get in trouble.

“Am I going to get in trouble?” I asked the friendly police officer that was standing next to me?

Oh no,” Officer Friendly said.  “This is all just standard.”

OK, good.  Now to calm the cat down.

The fire department took my information and when they were finished with their pictures and axing, they brought in a big fan and opened all of my windows to force the smoke out of my apartment.

I thanked my beautiful neighbor and she replied with a friendly, “That’s what neighbors are for!” And I almost started crying.  It took me about three days to calm the cat down, and I felt his pain because I’m afraid of the kitchen now.  When I called the owners of the building to tell them I kinda almost burned it down, they were very very nice and the first question they asked was if I was OK.  So I almost started to cry again.  They came up the next day and drywalled me all back up.

Fire over.

God knows what would have happened if I hadn’t had baking soda on hand.  I don’t know where I learned about baking soda.  It seems to me it was from television.  Was it “The Electric Company?”  Mr. Rogers?   I feel like PBS was involved.

Thank you, Baking Soda.  I love you.

Erica and her calmer cat can be reached at http://quentinspages.com.

Hi, Erica! My name is Something from Something Recruiting, and I am looking at your amazing resume! I really love your background and skills, and I know we can work together! I have an awesome writing position that is just in line with your background! Give me a call at blah blah blah, blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah so that we can talk about your needs and current status! Again, my name is Something from Something Recruiting and I really look forward to speaking with you, Erica!

She really looks forward to speaking with me! If that were true, she’d be disappointed. Oh, sure, my current bank account balances may have led me to consider calling her back, but once I noticed that I was beginning to have a panic attack at the idea of working in the corporate world again, I deleted the voicemail and the matching, equally chirpy email she sent me (though it was disappointingly scant on exclamation points), and proceeded to never give her a second thought. You know, except for now when I’m writing about it.

I first met the Corporate World when I was 17, and became a full-time temp. Because I could type fast and was good on computers, I was heavily employable and temping for a time was fun. But then I realized I should probably get a real job, so I tried for a few years at different companies, always hoping that – and I will admit this here publicly for the first time – that maybe someday instead of supporting the woman in the office, I would be the woman in the office.

But I didn’t have any education. Eventually I stopped looking for a company where I could “work my way up” the corporate ladder because as I moved through my twenties, that kind of company was rapidly fading away. So, I officially began my ten year education and now have a BA in Business Communications and an MA in English to show for it.

Would that I could sell them on eBay.

Though, the BA did get me my first, truly awesome, corporate job as an actual professional business writer! I had already been freelance writing for five years at the time, between Real Jobs. I was there for two years. It was steady income, it was good income, I was liked there, I had friends there, and the work was so frickin easy I could do it in my sleep! If there hadn’t been strong coffee plentifully available, I would have.

But that’s not very purposeful for someone that is on this planet to help others. So I was guided to expand my freelance stuff into helping people with my developing psychic abilities. It was then that I was able to see that I could support myself doing that. Good thing too because the Truly Awesome Corporate Job didn’t last, but not because of anything that I did. My department was moved to the parent company, and they were preparing to eliminate my position. I figured this out when one day no work came in and didn’t come in for two weeks. And perhaps, yes, I could have waited for them to fire me, but I had my pride so I just said, you know, I think maybe it’s time to spread my wings…

So I spread my wings and stuff and was good for a couple of years, but then the recession hit me. Having completed my first MA, I was considering going for a PhD and spent – or I should say, wasted – a good amount of time looking for supplemental income rather than trying to market myself. Then I got so financially desperate, I realized I had no choice but to go back to Corporate Land.

So I did…I took the first job I could get and I tried to convince myself that it was awesome. But it so wasn’t. I couldn’t get anything better because of my MA, and also, I think now, because of my age. For I am no longer in my twenties and I am just barely hanging on to my thirties. I tried to make the job awesome but it reached levels of suckitude I never dreamed of. I would tell you everything about why it sucked so much, but that’s a whole other vicarious line.

I let the job suck my soul for a while, and then like Mark Cohen from RENT, I screamed one day, “I need to work on my own film! I QUIT!”

Certainly the fact that I am now marketing myself, plus that my client base is expanding on its own, helps immensely – and now I can truly do what I want to do! It’s going to take a while to really do what I want to do and to make money doing it, but at least I’m getting by, and I’m not spending my days hating every minute of what I do and wishing I didn’t need to stay there.

So thank you anyway, Recruiter from Something Recruiting, but I’m doing just fine where I am.

- Erica

Almost universally, my friends and family told me to “get back out there.” The goal, I was told, was to re-enter the dating world and conquer it. Even my closest friend and confidant, my brother, told me I just needed to “get laid” and move on. This thought though,was repulsive but, looking at societal models it seemed to be the modus operandi. I went out with some younger friends to some local clubs where I felt antiquated and out of sorts. I delved into the online dating scene only to be frightened away by the most base layers of humanity.

Retreating to safer ground, I resolved that the goal must be to find a place of comfort and solace within myself. Exploration of my own needs and desires became my focus. I took up mountain biking with my brother and reconnected to that relationship. I began a yoga practice and rediscovered myself, burgeoning for release and growth. The reality, I found, was that whatever those around me dictated as necessary for my well being was based in their own perception. The truth was that I had found my own path. I do not need another person in my life to complete me. I am who I am. If the world around me does not accept me as I am, then I’m okay with that. I know the truth of my innermost self.

- Jonathan.

Growing up, New Kids on the Block (NKOTB) was, by far, my absolute favorite band in the world. There are photographs in family photo albums with me wearing a Jordan Knight t-shirt on a trip to Sea World. I distinctly remember sleeping on NKOTB sheets. I had the NKOTB dolls that I married to Barbie on several occasions (different times, of course. Barbie was not a bigamist, at least not in my world). I had all their albums, including their first one (c. 1986), x-mas album and the remix album that was pretty silly and probably shouldn’t have been made, but I digress. I was a huge fan. I even had a VHS copy of the concert they put together for Hanging Tough that I must have watched at least fifty times.

My love for NKOTB once got me into trouble. When the album ‘Hanging Tough’ came out in 1988, I was six years old. I wasn’t even aware NKOTB existed at this time until my mother took me to a Tiffany (Ginger singer of “I Think We’re Alone Now. Mall princess. Natural enemy of the fair haired Debbious Gibsonous) concert. NKOTB just happened to be the opening act and almost as soon as they took the stage in their lycra bicycle pants, all the teenage girls rushed toward them. I had no idea what was going on, but I knew if I wanted to be cool like the older girls, I had to like the five guys singing on stage. And so I did. Before I knew what was going on, I had two of their albums in my possession on cassette tapes that I quickly memorized. And I legitimately loved the songs. So did my babysitter (still six years old at this point, remember?) Once, after she put me to bed, I heard her in the living room listening to her own copy of ‘Hanging Tough’. I figured it was unfair she got to listen to NKOTB when I had to sleep, so I got up and started to sing and dance in my pitch dark room. When my babysitter heard me and stomped her way into my room to yell at me, I yelled right back that she can’t keep NKOTB to herself because I liked them too. This is how I remember it, at least, but apparently I used a lot more sass because when my parents got home I got a spanked bottom. And well worth it too!

Despite getting me into trouble, NKOTB also helped me bond with a family member as well. My cousin and I don’t have much in common. Even though we grew up together, our political and religious differences make us mix together about as well as oil and water. But the one thing we do have in common is growing up together loving NKOTB. She was with me at that Tiffany concert and swooned almost as hard as I did. While we can’t talk about much today without finding an impasse, we have been known to leave a NKOTB song quote on each other’s Facebook page. The most common song we quote? ‘Step by Step.’

Just as all boy bands eventually do, NKOTB broke up in the early to mid 90’s. It seemed like this would be the end of my NKOTB and Jordan Knight love story, but no! They reunited in 2008 and I had no idea! Not one clue. It wasn’t until late 2010 that my best friend, Liz, told me she bought tickets to a NKOTB and Backstreet Boys concert in the summer of 2011 and that I was going with her. It had been about eighteen years since I seriously thought about the band and I was incredibly intrigued to see how they would look and sound now.

They. Were. Amazing. AND they all managed to look hotter than they looked at the height of their success. Needless to say my flame for NKOTB and Jordan Knight was reigKNIGHTed. (Very silly pun, I know, but so necessary)

After the NKOTB/Backstreet Boys concert, which Liz and I agreed was one of the best we had ever been to, we were discussing how to see them again. Our options included more concerts, paying extra to get VIP passes, and even a cruise. Yes, a cruise dedicated only to NKOTB fans. Four full days with opportunities to see, chat, take photos and hang out with Jon, Donny, Danny, Jordan and Joe. One way to have a good chance at a cabin on the cruise is to join the official fan club. Liz, who is an even more hard core fan than I am, is officially apart of the NKOTB fan club, known as the Block Nation. Members are called Block Heads. I call them nerds. (I realize I am only 1 official membership at a cost of $40 away from full nerdom myself so it’s more of a term of endearment than insult.)

Because Liz is a Block Head, she won tickets for the both of us to see all five guys tonight for a Town Hall meeting in Santa Monica. The venue is a local high school auditorium where the guys will sit and listen to the Block Heads for ideas on how to make NKOTB fandom a better experience. Oh, and did I mention the guys will go out into the audience and mingle with us?! A really rad opportunity and I’m hoping I’ll finally get to meet Jordan since I didn’t get to at his March 8th House of Blues concert for his solo album. Did I forget to mention Liz got me tickets to see him (and only him) for my 30th birthday present? Well, now I did. And it was another amazing experience.

The Town Hall meeting is winding down and a video of a NKOTB concert at Fenway Park is playing on a giant screen on the stage. The next thing Liz and I know, Donnie is sitting two rows behind us. He’s waving at us and signing autographs for everyone around him. Liz and I are becoming more and more like our teenage selves by doing really classy things like giggling. This night has officially become the best night of the year.

Liz, soon after, spots Jordan Knight. He’s walking down the aisle toward us. She reaches out her hand and he touches her! ZOMG! Then to our amazement he sits in the seat directly behind us. Hands on mouths trying to stifle the giggles and pure ecstasy of being so close to Jordan Knight, we look like a couple of geeked out fangirls and he can see all of this. The cool has left the building. I turn to look behind me and he’s looking at both of us. Liz asks me if she should ask him for an autograph. I shrug because the hell if I know. I look toward the screen again. “Cover Girl” is starting, one of my favorite songs, but who cares! Jordan Knight is literally a few feet away and it seems we have his attention. I turn to look at Liz again and am startled to see Jordan leaning forward so he is, at most, one foot away. He was actually a little too close for comfort and I felt a bit uncomfortable so I thought he was just being sociable and letting us shy fans know it’s alright to approach.

This is my chance. I’m going to talk to Jordan Knight and he will acknowledge my words and reply in kind. I will also let him know I like his music and ask him for an autograph. This moment, after twenty-two years of waiting is finally here! After all those hours doing the running man in the living room, fighting with friends over who was the cutest New Kid and singing my heart out, I am going to get Jordan Knights autograph.

I take the lanyard off Liz gave me incase this moment should arise, turn around, make eye contact (swoon!) say, “Will you please sign this?” and…

He.
Glares.
At.
Me.

Was I not supposed to ask? Was I overzealous in my request? I did not ask him to father a child of mine nor did I say or scream the phrase, “OMGZ! YOU’RE SO HAWT!!!” So I’m not entirely sure what the problem was.

I say, “I guess not.” and turn back around to avoid the most awkward of awkward moments.

Did I just get shot down by Jordan Knight for an autograph?

It wasn’t much long after I turned around that I noticed someone else ask him for an autograph on a poster AND HE SIGNED IT.

I did, I did just get shot down by Jordan Knight for an autograph.

Liz saw everything and admitted later she was too afraid to ask him for an autograph. She also told me he was probably just messing with me. Yes, he was just messing with me which is why he, very soon after this whole thing went down, tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Why, yes, fangirl, I will sign your silly lanyard because you appreciate what I do and I thank you.”

Except that never happened.

?
!
?!

I tried not to let it bug me too much or let it ruin my evening. But, honestly, it was difficult to get beyond that glare. Twenty two years of childhood expectations and dreams crushed in a single moment!!! Gaaaahhhhhhh!!!!! I felt like the rug was pulled out from under my feet. Everything I thought was wrong. My expectations of how things would go and how all the players would act were completely off. I almost wish I didn’t ask so the dream of meeting Jordan Knight for the first time and things not being awkward could stay alive. I did ask, however, and now I’m stuck living in reality, a very disappointing reality. Sometimes, ignorance really is bliss.

But something is still bugging me. I couldn’t help think how lucky I was to live only 30 miles away from the venue and have been a +1. I wasted very little time and money. There were women at the meeting tonight who drove across the country, or even flew from Brazil or Vancouver, to meet the guys. I’m pretty bummed at learning my dreams for twenty two years were just dreams, I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I traveled thousands of miles and spent tons of money to learn the same lesson. Even if I was acting like a complete idiot, tonight was a pretty big night for me even if it was just a Saturday to him.

I still danced and sang throughout the rest of the Town Hall and had fun. I even got autographs of Donnie and Jonathan and was so grateful to receive them. Liz and I still listened to NKOTB on the drive home and 99% of the evening was beyond perfect.

I still love NKOTB and will still go to concerts and will probably still act like a giggling fangirl. Just a little wiser and a little more love for the group as a whole.

(It’s Too Soon To Tell)

I came to play in the social networking arena somewhat reluctantly.  Why do I need this, I have email addresses and phone numbers?  This is what I said until a “Success Coach” I was paying, told me of all the ways I could promote myself and my business on MySpace.

I had already joined, but did not spend much time on there, UNTIL…I noticed all the profile pics of women in bikinis.  That changed everything.  And, from then on, I was happy to promote my self , my music and my business to all my new “friends.”  I almost exclusively stuck to the promotion, but definitely scanned the friends of my friends to quickly add the most-attractive friends I could find.  I would also come across old real-life friends—so, MySpace, to me, was like a big treasure hunt.

Then Facebook came along.  Again, I was reluctant.  I’m already on MySpace, why  do I need to join this?  The reason, is that Facebook was like one giant high-school yearbook, except that it covered my entire life and I could search for hot friends of friends. And even better was the fact that Facebook was interactive.  I could actually engage and communicate with these people.  I could see what they were up to, let them know what I was up to and drop witty comments here and there that brought me much appreciation and ego-stroking.

I loved Facebook.  It was great!  I would look up old girl-friends, old crushes, they would find me, all my cousins were on there, etc etc.  And then the day came when I was able to have Facebook right on my phone!!  This was awesome!

And then, there was Twitter…..

I really had to be dragged to the Twitter. Everyone not on Twitter thinks it is all about sharing with everyone that you are going to the bathroom.  But it isn’t.  Twitter started as a big dinner party for me, and eventually turned into a dark, Dionysian underworld similar to the opium rooms in Logan’s Run.  Twitter is where I could be who I wanted to be most, say what I wanted to say, and play out all kinds of fantasies. I got respect, I was told I was funny, women hit on me, I got my ego stroked, I could drop innuendos without being on the receiving end of an eye-roll or slap in the face.  In fact, the more I pushed it, the better the response. The girls loved me and the guys were cool!  What more could I want?

The problem, the catch (and there is always a catch), is that I was doing all this as a married man with three kids.  I escaped to Twitter.  At first, I escaped to Facebook, but it that was tame.  It wasn’t as instant and engaging as Twitter.  It wasn’t as dark and lascivious.  I started tweeting as an actor with an actor-related business, ended up being more involved in the political circles, and then found women who were looking for a good time, or to be listened to and appreciated.  And they were happy to hear from me.  And this made me happy.

I was lonely, see.  I was insecure. I felt stuck in my marriage.  I had tried to do a lot within my own limitations, and kept coming up empty.  And one day, I found someone on twitter who appreciated me.  And then I found another and another.  And on top of  that, I had groups of “friends” I would tweet with nightly, and daily, as if we were the cast of “Friends” hanging out on the couch of that coffee joint.

And this worked for me.  Until it didn’t.  My wife found out about one woman.  Then I told her about the other.  And now, I sit on the cusp of a separation…likely headed for divorce.  Now, I can’t and won’t say that the separation is all because of social networking, I just know it to be the straw that broke the camel’s back.  At any rate, I sit here feeling as if my life is ruined, but also semi-excited for the possibility to actually enjoy my life.  Afterall, the make-believe world of Twitter loves me!!

- Anon

Fast-forward to April 2012 and I find myself unsure of virtually everything. I am now once again a resident of Seattle, and now I am unemployed and a Dive Master. I got my DM certification in Khao Lak, Thailand in January and returned to Seattle one month later. I find myself unemployed (which is also different than last year at this time), and completely unsure of what it is I want to do. I am unsure of what I want to do, as well as unsure of what I should do now, as well as unsure of if I made the right decision in moving back home. I know, “home is where the heart is,” but I’m not sure. I know I’m in a place where I cannot make that determination now – due to being unsure (not to mention unemployed). I find myself on random crying jags, but I wonder if that’s because I’m not working full time, and have not so much to take up my time.

I don’t feel that I’ve been hibernating, but on some level, I think I have been. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss the sun of Southern California. I miss the people I met in my 11-year sojourn in Southern California, yet I love spending time with the people I knew in Seattle – the ones I get to spend so much time with lately. I get to watch some of my friends’ kids get older and older. I get to experience the changes week to week. I get asked to babysit and use those kid experiences as another reason to not have kids now. But I don’t get to go to other friends’ restaurant openings in LA, or new cocktail bars that are opened by other friends, unless I happen to be in town. I have tried to immerse myself in Seattle’s cocktail culture (and I think I’ve done a darn good job), Seattle’s restaurant culture (I’ve probably done a less good job on this one), Seattle’s bike culture (it’s far too big to even think that 2 months is enough time!) and Seattle’s dive culture (this one is easier, if even more clique-ier). Those four things have the potential to take up tons of time, and dollars. If only I had more dollars!

But I’m not sure if they will get me to the answer I am looking for: Did I make the right decision? Was moving home the decision I should have made? I know I should not look backward, but at this point, I’m less sure of myself. This makes me sad. In LA I was a churchgoer, but in the last several years, my church community has done less of a job feeding me than the online community I built. Some of those people weren’t even “church” people – but they got me through so much. I wonder if I had more of a church community in Seattle, if that would make me more connected. I’ve tried finding a church and haven’t been successful.

Reconnecting with people has been great. I had a great time reconnecting with my Grandma last fall before Thailand, I have had a great time connecting with my sister and other friends in parts of Washington. I’ve had a great time taking care of friends’ kids and thoroughly enjoyed late summer in Seattle. So, if a job will make this not sure feeling go away, I’d take it.

The other option is to buck up and make some dreams come true. I’m working on that one. I have taken some leaps of faith in the past few days and know I need to take more. I have talents that if some company doesn’t want to harness, I need to use them to make myself happy. I am a grown woman in her mid-30s, I need to make some dreams come true.

Dream #1 for 2012 was becoming a DiveMaster – I did that. On to Dream #2 – it awaits.

- Noelle

Check out her blog at http://eventsbynoelle.com/blog/

Follow her on the Twitterz – @tallnoe

But every so often when the mood is right I’ll collect simple (if unusual) ingredients, recite the words of some medieval charm and set out offerings to spirits. Yes, spirits.

This is the setting where I practice magical rituals: some traditional and very old, others of my own design. In these rituals, I sense and hold an energy that I can’t explain. The words, gestures and images of the ceremony grab it and tell it where to go. The result? Typically, a string of improbable coincidences and lucky breaks that end up achieving whatever the ceremony called for.

You might not believe in magic. That’s fine with me. Actually, I’m not sure I do either. The first thing people ask me about magic is, does it work? And the only honest answer I can give is: I don’t know.

I do know that some magic spells have been proven to work, but a lot of magic could be psychological. There’s very little high quality scientific research on magical techniques, so it remains a craft that’s learned and executed mostly by knack. A lot of the people who practice magic fiercely believe it works. I’m not so sure.

On the other hand magic ritual is among the most amazing experiences in the world. Beside the flickering candles and burning incense I’ve had powerful breakthroughs, seen indescribable things and sensed invisible spirits as sure as if another person were sitting in the room staring at me.

When people learn that I practice magic they often ask for my help. When I was younger I started taking clients and preparing charms for them professionally. It seemed like an appealing way to make a living, because magic is something I do well and love doing. But it quickly became uncomfortable.

My clients often had unrealistic requests. For example, people with schizophrenia or epilepsy would ask me to exorcise bad spirits and cure them. Or someone would think they’re cursed and ask me to lift the spell from them. Try telling a true believer there’s no black magic on them and they just had a run of bad luck. Or that they should see a psychologist instead of a magician. They take it so well.

(I did meet one gentleman who actually had been cursed. It shocked me because that sort of thing is rare. I did a traditional ceremony and he was very happy with how his life turned around.)

In other cases people asked me to do things that were outright wrong. You’d think that most people would hesitate to call up a stranger and ask them to commit murder, but for some reason when they’re talking to a magician they think everything is fair game. “Will you curse my ex?” “Can you help me get my inheritance?” “I would never normally ask something like this, but I think it’s justified…” My (least) favorite was when people made really creepy love spell requests. No, I don’t want to force the woman who doesn’t like you to sleep with you. Go buy some vaseline and a conscience.

Outside of personal friends, I stopped taking clients.

But the importance of magic in my life has only grown over the years, and I’ve become quite good at my art. I feel comfortable taking on very complicated and nuanced enchanting projects. One friend in his mid 40s is marrying a woman of the same age. They want to have kids but not encounter any birth defects. At the same time, they’re both divorced from previous spouses and are wary of placing their faith in always-forever style love. They asked if there is any kind of charm I could make for their family and I created a hand-painted scroll to hang in their home with no less than 12 different spells linked together on it.

And that’s how I ended up making my magic public again. I realized that to me, magic is an art of the highest degree. I started treating it as such and making my charms in the form of meaningful fine art pieces. Now I take handmade paper, mix magic potions with paint, and craft high-quality scrolls that can be hung in the home or office. I enchant each scroll for a specific purpose: true love, financial success, all the fun stuff. When the scroll is unfurled and hung up it begins to radiate its magic to those around it.

This method gives me a lot more control over who I deal with (or don’t). You want a Make My Kids Hate Their Mom spell? Take a look at the inventory. Nope, I don’t make those, too bad. Next!

At the same time it allows me to put a lot more of myself into each charm, making them into something unique and powerfully charged. When you handle a charmed object you should feel it. It crackles along your skin, something touches your shoulders. That’s the sign of true enchantment.

This year I opened my digital atelier, altmagic, where I sell my scrolls and blog about the science and art behind magic.

Do you have questions about being a magician? Fire away and I’ll do my best to answer.

- Drew

Check out his site www.altmagic.com

Web: Andreanna Arambula Photography

On the Twitterz: @andre_anna

Zachary Hill
www.zacharyhillart.com