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[/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]You may have seen Brene Brown’s TED Talk before, maybe not. I watched it again today and I’m sharing with you because it’s soooo good. I hope you enjoy.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]
Let’s face it, courtship has never been easy. Where Victorian times had their parlors full of would be suitors perched on uncomfortable furniture with a maiden aunt breathing down their cravats, the 21st century has an app. Today’s dating game has replaced the calling card with a 240 character bio, a bathroom selfie and a photo of your dog. Rather than his recitation of poetry and her piano recital, we settle for few texts, a brief phone call and a face-to-face for a bit of sniffing over tapas and craft beer.
The search for love changes and evolves as we wander through life. In youth we’re still finding ourselves, our careers and our passions, even as we seek another. We crave romance, a Hallmark card soulmate, or perhaps “The One” to fill a driving desire to start a family. Years after the big things have been done and you find yourself single, how do you find the next “One”? You hope, of course, you’ll meet the old-fashioned way; at the art museum, the grocery store, the dog park:a friend will introduce you or… you’ll go online.
When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time –Maya Angelou
This where it gets complicated. Profiles that lead with “I’m just a simple guy…” –(code for I haven’t read a book since college), photos of a grown up man in a baseball cap and mirrored shades (can you say creeper?) or Colorado favorite, standing on top of a mountain in a spandex suit with your bike held over your head (the cult of the super-fit)– make me think being single ain’t so bad.To me life’s next “Big Thing” is the way I choose to spend every moment between this breath and the grave, so choosing who to share this precious time with takes intention, an open heart and a bit of research. As a writer and Realtor my online profile is wide open. A simple search for Tracy Denver brings me up on the fist page, which makes it easy for a potential date to know a lot about me with a few clicks of a mouse and though I’ve never shown up to find someone so well-prepared, before I meet someone in LoDo after dark I’m going straight to Google.
Most of the time you strike out but when you find they have a blog, you’ve stuck cyber gold. Writing a blog is the epitome of sharing… sometimes over-sharing. Whether it’s business expertise, travel stories, life experience or how often you floss your teeth, you tell us who you are. You write about the day your cat died, I see how you handle grief and loss, the time you left it all behind to travel the world tells me you’re independently wealthy, incredibly irresponsible or in search of nirvana. A month in Spain, a week in Columbia, a year in India all have different connotations, don’t they? Bloggers tell their story, put it out for all the world to see and most likely forget about it… but it’s out there.
Most people like to live in illusions- J Krishnamurti
You read the blog, had the date, started the relationship,and conveniently forgotten what you’d learned before you’d pulled up to the first valet. Still, you surprised when the story unfolds exactly as written. We all do this. It doesn’t take a blog to get the information, we get it from friends and family in the way they behave, in the emotional well we return to time and again, knowing it is dry. So, what is it in us that chooses to ignore what we know in favor of what we want to believe is true? Real time politics show us that even Trump’s own words do not dissuade those who want to believe in him. The world woke up after the #Brexit vote, shocked by the results, raging at reality and reeling from effects that global economists have predicted for months. We share information on Social Media to support our beliefs without checking the source or the facts. In a world of spin, Tweet, best intention and illusion, how does one discern the truth?
The heart wants what the the heart wants- Unknown
To know the heart, yours or another’s, it takes silence and the stillness to listen carefully. Listening is a skill to be cultivated in our noisy world. Not only must you tune out the distraction to truly hear the other, it takes great patience to listen deep within oneself. Attention must be paid to the clanging, the white noise and the story. What is the truth of the story being told and how is that filtered by the one you create? Sifting calmly through the actual information, careful not to judge, is more productive and requires more of you than spinning fantasies and making excuses. Illusion mimics scar tissue, protecting an open, tender heart from that which it already knows. Know what you know.
And if someone tells you they rarely floss their teeth… believe them.
I have great clothes. Really. I have a closet full of beautiful clothes for every occasion in only two sizes, perfect for the life I think I’m living. I have coordinated outfits and signature pieces, perfect for the office I pay for but rarely go in to, perfect for the camping trips scheduled but abandoned, mountain weather I’m rarely in, the soirees I attend but can’t find anything to wear to and every imaginable combo for the vacations I take and over-pack for. Theory and reality.
Most mornings I wake up at dawn, pull on a t-shirt and a pair of snappy yoga pants I bought for the classes I’ve paid for yet never gone to, take my son to school, return home to make a delicious hand-crafted cappuccino and head to the desk in my home office. I fire up the computer and the laptop, open my contact management program on one, my writing program on the other, log on to the MLS… and Facebook. (You know where this is going, don’t you?)
All of this is fine really, and I do get things done. I mean, something must be going right to be able to pay for the multiple devises, the software, the yoga classes, the office desk fee and the closet full of clothes. And I devote enough time to writing to keep calling myself a writer. But where is the gap between the life I think I’m living and the one that takes place day-to-day?
The question of theory is a check-in on the goals and resolutions for 2016. In theory I’m the girl who gets up at dawn, pulls on those yoga clothes, does the school drop-off, heads to the gym/yoga class, showers and dresses into the sassy ensemble I’ve carefully packed and loaded into the car, and shows up at the office for a full day of work as a busy Realtor. At the end of the day (in my mind) I return to my home office and work for an hour or two on the Great American Novel before throwing a few shallots in the pan to sauté.
As a self-employed single mother, my time is flexible but never my own. Like most in my profession, I wake up every day unemployed and have to get my hustle on, as we all do, but rather than punch a time-clock, I have to time-block to get all that prospecting, house showing, contract writing, negotiating, parenting, exercising and creativity in. Don’t we all? Frankly, I’m not sure how anyone does it, who has time to bake cupcakes, or which day “laundry day” actually is.
But this is not specifically a productivity rant, rather an inquiry into the glitch that keeps us from writing that book or taking that tango lesson. Modern American life asks us to buy into images of perfection, because without feelings of personal deficit, how could we sell things? Madison Avenue must create the perpetual void to be filled with luxury cars, hamburgers, fashion trend and heartburn. We’ve grown so uncomfortable with the empty space within, the interesting space, we hurl ourselves moment-by-moment, away from it with busyness. I call it perpetual prepping; getting ready to be ready. It is the yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes, seeking a way in or a way out.
2015 was a “structural” year for me. I opened the windows, dumped out my toy box, and got rid of what I’d outgrown, was no longer entertaining and/or working. The result was the grand realization that what I want I already have, I just want it more clearly. No sweeping changes or mid-life crisis, only the desire for simplicity, authenticity, and presence. I could dump my theory into the mixing bowl, add a dash of focus, blend until it becomes reality and, boom. Cupcakes!
I try this, making the commitment write more, I add time. I rearrange my head to include my body, specifically exercising before the caffeine has fully hit, a yogi move for sure. The night before, I pack my gym bag, my work clothes, briefcase, and put them in the Subaru. So excited to become that new and improved Tracy, it’s hard to get a good night’s sleep, but pop of bed at the first alarm. Being met with a “Hello” from Adele at sunrise should only happen if you’re just getting home holding your high heels, but I rally. Dropping Gabe at East, I pull into 24hr Fitness by 7:45 feeling pretty damned good about myself. Maybe I can be ‘that girl’ after all, I mean this is going great, right? Workout complete, I’d even remembered the towel, my self-esteem rising with the hot shower. Pulling on the nude fishnets I’d never worn, I’m troubled by the fact that the crotch seems to want to stay halfway between my knees and hips, the hem has fallen out of my skirt, there’s a spot on my blouse which hadn’t come out in the wash and I’ve not packed mascara. I soldier on into the office looking like a hot mess, reminding myself it’s day one. The next day goes better, though I forgot to pack a bra which wasn’t my best look at 25 either.
Day-by-day, as I morph my theoretical life with the reality I dream of, I learn how much courage it takes to truly be yourself. How much clarity it takes to slough off cultural concepts of needing to fill a void. I am that void, that mystery, and with all the new space in the toy box it’so much easier to find what I’m looking for. And though a few million things need practice, today I will be more present, plan, and try not to forget my foundations…my mother’s word for the brassiere department.
After scouring the guide and culling the heard and overheard, here are my STARZ Denver Film Festival favorites…so far. Of course, it’s only day 3 and already my Thesaurus is dog-eared and coffee stained.
For the big movies, there’s nothing more fun than to see the next big thing before it’s been released in a theatre full of film buffs. So I’ve got all of them on my list:
1. Labor Day (see below)
2. Nebraska (Alexander Payne directs Bruce Dern. ‘Nuff said.)
3. August: Osage County (Okay, I’m not a big fan of Julia Roberts but I’m a HUGE fan of Tracy Letts. And who knows, she could surprise me.)
4. At Middleton (Adam Rodgers gets his debut feature film slotted into closing night of the Starz Denver Film Festival. It’s gotta be sumpin’)
Hanna Ranch and American Mustang top my list of beautiful, moving films that reflect my interests and the gorgeous state I call home.
GENE KELLY: THE LEGACY. I was raised on the back lot of M-G-M where the likes of Mr. Kelly would cruise casually into the barber shop or to lunch at the Commissary. This should feel like a home movie.
The Resurrection of a Bastard- Dutch. Thriller. Done.
The Truth About Emmanuel- This one could go either way but my part of Denver Actor Project screens before so I’m there.
The One Who Loves You- Denver actor/director Katharyn Grant’s Indie love story because I hope it’s great and there is a cadre of Denver talent in the cast.
And then there is the element of surprise. I love to pick a day, a time, a venue and then jump in and see the film I know nothing about. It’s like buying a wine you’ve never had and the thrill of reaching beyond what you know is…thrilling. So there will be some of that throughout the week.
What I’ve seen:
Labor Day. Festival opener had me floored from the main title. Based on the novel of the same name by Joyce Maynard, Labor Day hits a place of intimacy and then stays there. One look at the state of single mother, Adele (Kate Winslet), and you can feel her heartbreak in the relatable way that says “that’s about two houses down from me”. When a bleeding stranger presses himself upon her son seeking refuge, she allows it. Or does she? I talked to many of the movie-goers at the opening night party who felt (quite adamantly) that a mother never would have done that. I saw it differently. I saw a woman whose stunned state of sorrow had stripped her of her strength. Earlier in the afternoon, I sat down with Joyce Maynard and we discussed this very thing. “The loneliness of Adele, her deep sadness, that part comes from me. The rest, of course, is fiction.” I could relate. Especially when the bleeding stranger is Josh Brolin. Labor Day is a love story. It should be no surprise that they will fall in love, what is surprising is how lovely it is to watch them do so. Look for my full review on Huffington Post
Gloria– Chilean film, takes place in Santiago, award-winning actress and a story of a woman who defies society’s definition of age… or so the promo says. I did enjoy this film though it’s filled with a lot of mundane tasks so you’re thinking, “Okay, she’s vacuuming her car. Uh-huh, she’s singing on the way to work…”. Having seen a number of ‘coming of a certain age’ stories, I don’t know what to think anymore. Is it all about regret? The one who got away? Getting your ‘groove’ back? Seems like there’s not much else we see or write about when it comes to the middle-aged, divorcee and as one, that depresses the hell outta me. Gloria differs in that she takes the ball in her own hands, frequenting a dance club filled with age-appropriate men. (Must be unique to Santiago;-) Finding one she particularly likes, she ventures into a sexual, and then loving, relationship with a man who cannot relinquish his past. Particularly the dependent ex and his grown and spoiled daughters. Gee… this sounds like a match.com story. Gloria shows the wisdom of maturity as she deals with a lover who is less so, leaving me to believe she’d rather be alone with a hairless cat and a joint than in love with a man who’s a child. Good point. Still kind of depressing.
Dallas Buyers Club. This was a surprise screening for Reel Social Club members, none of whom knew what film it would be until the doors opened. I was ready to pack up and head for the Late Night Lounge when the announcement came. I’d heard of the film months ago but wasn’t really paying attention. Saying goodbyes and grabbing a ticket, I missed the main title. I had no idea who Matthew McConaughey was for the first 20 minutes of the movie. That’s how good he was (and how much weight he’d lost). He and Jared Leto absolutely KILL it in a semi-biographical film about Ron Woodruff, a homophobic Texan who contracts the HIV virus and takes it down like a bull rider. Due to the historical nature of the story, [Woodruff was the one who took on the FDA and AZT, traveling to Mexico and Japan to bring in Interferon and Peptide T which paved the way for the lifesaving “cocktail”] there are some overly expositional bits but the film is not to be missed for the MM and JL performances.
Whether you buy a single ticket or a VIP package, the STARZ Denver Film Festival experience it worth the price of admission.
The Starz Denver Film Festival, now in its 36th year, opens this week with an impressive array of cinematic treats. More than 250 features, shorts, music videos and student films will be screened over the eleven day festival with plenty of pre-show parties, post-film panels, Red Carpet Galas and whispers in the Late Night Lounge. We’ll roll out the Kleig lights for those soon-to-be-Hollywood-blockbusters; Labor Day, Nebraska, August: Osage County, At Middleton and the Red Carpet Galas that put the “festive” in the Festival, but it’s the lesser known films that are often are the most memorable. I’ll be scouring and screening, sorting out the skinny and bringing you the news and interviews (Hello Joyce Maynard!) via my THE HUFFINGTON POST blog, but the really hot dish heats up here. I’m goin’ all Rona Barrett on you as I put the Gal in Gala, the life into the party and bring it all to you in (sur)real time and living color.
All the little last minute details… Right now we don’t know which version LA is sending for The Centerpiece screening of August: Osage County. Will it be director John Wells’ cut or will producer Harvey Weinstein have his way with us?
All the ruffled feathers… One local filmmaker is upset by the content of the Denver Actor Project… something about “Audition tapes” was overheard. Ironically the genesis of the Denver Actor Project was intended to bring Denver filmmakers together to reflect our talent pool and beautiful city, a’la Paris Je T’aime, which Nebraska director Alexander Payne was a part of. The love letter to Denver was too ambitious to do in the available time frame so director, Brad Stabio marched to his own one-man-band pulling together six Denver actors (Jordan Leigh, Chris Grundy, Paul Page, Amie MacKenzie, Jeff Kosloski and me), shooting six individual films and a story to tie these short films together. Running 1-3 minutes each of these six short pieces reveal a part of the whole. I am one of the six, with my part screening before “The Truth About Emmanuel” on Sunday and Monday.
I plan on seeing everything my fellow thespians are in, including Katharyn Grant’s award-winning Indie, The One Who Loves You. Grant, a Colorado actor/filmmaker, directs herself in this love story, set in the 1970s about a failed singer who falls for the grifter who helps her believe in herself. Shot in and around Denver, the cast of The One Who Loves You features some of Denver’s most familiar faces including Rhonda Brown, donnie l betts, Martha Harmon Pardee, Candy Brown, Judy Phelan-Hill, Elizabeth Rose, Laura Norman and Jordan Leigh. The One Who Loves You screens Monday, November 11 at 4:45 and Tuesday the 12th at 9:00.
Stay tuned, comment, converse, share, ask and FOLLOW THIS BLOG or jump in on Twitter @tracetime, @DenverFilm, #SDFF36 And don’t forget to BUY YOUR TICKETS!
It’s hard enough to build lasting relationships in real life, harder still to build a loyal clientele. Denver Fashion Diva, Denise Snyder, an expert at both–pushes the idea to the limit. Every well-dressed Denver woman knows Denise is the go-to gal for evening wear, and now the evening wear designer comes to her! Tomorrow, Ms. Snyder hosts a pre-event trunk show at her Cherry Creek boutique with the rare personal appearance of designer extraordinaire, Sue Wong. Making her Denver debut, Ms. Wong spends the afternoon at Mariel before jetting down the Valley Highway to the Flight to Luxury event and fashion show (hosted by Mariel) at Centennial Airport. Read more…
Let’s face it, no matter how much Oprah says it, shopping for the right bra is enough to send a girl scrambling to refill her Prozac. Unless you’ve got SOL…
Blow a kiss goodbye to standing half naked in a cold dressing while a salesgirl, cheerfully ignorant of the effects of gravity, sweeps in with a tape measure, an attitude and an armload of magic-memory-foam-underwire-gel-ultra-turbo-maxi-uplift contraptions designed for her sorority sisters. It’s all good when you’ve got youth or silicone on your side, but what looks great on an “Angel” looks like hell on a grown-ass woman.
Escape from the mall and wander over to Cherry Creek North to SOL…store of lingerie. It’s a little slice of heaven where a woman can hold her head and her bust line high. Rather than padding your ego, SOL sisters Cindy Johnson and Jeanie Peterson with their expertise and superb service, have grown their boutique into one of the country’s leading specialty lingerie stores and before you hit the dressing room you’ll know why. I took the girls in for a peek and found my new addiction.
The shop is simple and elegant, a beautiful frame for the exquisite designs. Part art, part architecture, the European intimate apparel carried by SOL goes way beyond what you’ll find at the mall. As we strolled the display boards chatting about style– body, bra and life— co-owner/psychic/bra-fitter extraordinaire, Cindy led me to a private room, asked me what shapes I liked, concerns I had and left me with “I have a few things you’ll like”. No measuring tape, no calculation of rib-to-nipple ratios, no humiliation… just a simple ‘be right back’. Her re-entry with a hand-picked array of lovelies and her adept handling of the proper fit, had me feeling like everything was in place and all was right with the world.
“How do you choose the lines you carry?” I asked, as I tried on one titillating bra after another. “Well, we used to go to the fashion shows and make lots of appointments with the designers, looking for, let’s say, that perfect red bra. It was crazy. Eventually we learned which lines were consistent with the quality, style and structure that fit our vision, then narrowed it down to those who were also able to deliver on time, as ordered. We’ve taken years to cultivate relationships with the lingerie design houses and have been asked many times to step in as consultants.”
What you pay for at SOL is more than snobbery of a luxury line of European lingerie, it is expertise. This expertise and consultancy has earned Johnson numerous visits to The Today Show, where she shows America what’s important in fit as she shows off what’s in fashion.
The experience is the very definition of personal… and in a good way. Because they put their heart where their SOL is, they create deep, meaningful and lasting relationships not only with designers but with a loyal clientele.
Celebrating 15 years, SOL is in full-birthday-celebration swing. Wednesday night saw a 1920’s themed bash, complete with a Nash. September 6th, stop by the store for a pre-party as Cherry Creek North hosts Fashion’s Night Out, or break out the purple push-up and come along to “Take Me Out to the Rockies” on September 26. October is national bra month and you know Team SOL will be decked out in style on October 7th at the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure .
SOL…store of lingerie 248 Detroit St. 303.394.1060
All this buzz about the end of days has got me thinking. First came the Absurdist humor Tweets and Facebook posts, followed by invitations to post-Rapture looting parties, (what to wear, what to wear?) and the folly that follows a good thread. But as I rise from my desk to continue the perpetual cycle of laundry, a new status update spins into my head. What if this actually happened? Not tomorrow, I’ve got plans, but maybe later in the week, say… Wednesday after Oprah’s final episode? I picture myself, turning off the television, slightly weepy, and crossing through the kitchen to the basement stairs. Wondering how the flies got in the house, I make a mental note to check the screens. The day is sunny; the rains have gone, and as I pass by the open backdoor I hear a croaking in the garden; a familiar sound of frogs who sang me through the summers of my youth. As I land at the bottom of the stairway I catch a glimpse of my teenage son on the basement couch. It’s well past noon and he’s still sleeping… at least I think he’s sleeping. Surely not the slaying of the first born, I think, and wait… there are no frogs in Denver. I cross to the couch, pass my hand by his open mouth to feel his breath and relieved I reroute to the laundry room.
I empty the dryer of its warm contents and bring them lovingly into folds as Apocalyptic thoughts tumble through my head. How different the world would be if the “Righteous” rose and left the rest behind. I imagine we’d reinstate Universal Healthcare to match the bloated need, which would be so much easier with the insurance lobbyists out of the way. Ditto for environmental causes. The real estate market would explode with vacancies, tipping the stagnant market to the buyer’s favor and foreclosures would drop: it’s hard to evict a zombie. Loans would be readily available with a plethora of bankers and mortgage brokers left, though interest rates might be hellish. I’m thinking the ranch style will be the dwelling of choice; writhing up a flight of stairs can be torture.
My thoughts turn inward. How would I feel if this really happened and how prepared am I to meet my maker? The spin cycle stops. I lift the lid and throw linens from their moist drum into the inferno of the dryer. I’d be okay I think, if the rest of my life is any indication: not the Valedictorian, but above average… top of the class perhaps.
Turning the washer dial 360°, the sound of the basin filling calms me. What the hell am I thinking? Of course you’d go to Heaven, Tracy. You’ll be there to greet the sinless mothers, Bounce sheets in one hand, box of Tide in the other: “Our Lady of Perpetual Laundry”. *smiles* Love can wash away a multitude of sins. Love and a can of Shout.
