Cry Me a River. . .please

Did you ever wish you were stupid?  I do, often.  My life would be so much easier if I didn't think about it so much.  Or feel so much.  Or worry so much.  Or be so paranoid. Or. . . .well, the list is endless and my patience isn't.  (Nor yours, dear reader, I suspect.)

It's not that I believe myself to be Albert Einstein (the scientific one, not the Albert Brooks one, that would be *awesome* if I were Albert Brooks!), but I question everything, spend way too much time mulling over shit I should just take at face value, and invariably end up making the wrong conclusions about things, which makes me start the whole cycle over again.  (Side note:  My blogs seem to be heavy with cycles lately.  I must have listened to too much Joni Mitchell in my youth. Or maybe it's my body's way of  making up for menopause.) 

The upshot of 357 years of thinking, worrying, paranoying myself into a frenzy is that I can no longer cry.  That might not seem like a big deal to you, but I was the original model for the Tiny Tears doll (please tell me someone out there is old enough to remember Tiny Years!).  I cried at everything.  A few years ago there was cotton commercial with a blind girl wrapping herself in a sheer curtain to feel the fabric and I went through an entire box of tissues every time I saw it.  Forest Gump and The Green Mile rated two tissue boxes apiece.  I'd sit in the bathtub to watch Unstrung Heroes and hope I wouldn't drown.   Three legged puppies??? Forgetaboutit. 

This does not mean I do not have emotions.  I still get upset, depressed, worried, sometimes even "happy" (whateverthefuck that means), everything but angry, which, for some reason, I can't do.  Okay, I know the reason, but it's not for public consumption and I'm being TMI-ish enough in this post, agreed? I feel things, I just can't cry about them.  I am emotionally nauseous.

The Universe has, once again, conspired to throw a lot of shit at me in a short space of time, sending me into a cornucopia of emotions that I am struggling to identify and separate (unsuccessfully) and I think if I could just sit down and cry about it, I'd feel better.  But no dice.  I just stare into space in a zombie-like trance.  Perhaps if I ate people's hearts instead of their brains it would trigger the tears.  No, I'd probably just throw up. 

Well, it's Onward Agnostic Soldiers, as the old Bob Dylan song goes.  There's not much I can do about the situation except ride it out and know that I will eventually come through to the other side, much like a Black Hole. And,  like a Black Hole (I also watched too much Star Trek in my youth), I have no idea what the galaxy will look like on the other side.  But I like to think it will be full of unicorns and rainbows and good, cheap beer.  And dogs who have all four legs. 

Ch, Ch, Ch, Changes

Change is inevitable.  The only constant is change.  Embrace change.  (Stop me if these never-before-heard phrases become too shocking.)  Guess what the topic of today's blog is?  Good for you!  More than just a hatrack, heh?

Anyroad, I am coming up on a big change in my life, with starting a new job in two weeks.  I have been at my current employ (aka: Job That Must Not Be Named) for ten years, so it's going to seem pretty weird not to show up here on the 25^th.  But I do weird things well, and I actually do enjoy embracing change.  (And anyone else willing to embrace me.  I'm currently accepting applications.)

I think theatre people go through more change on a regular basis than civilians do.  Although it is cyclical:

Find out about audition

Prepare/get psyched for audition

Audition

Prepare/get psyched to hear about results of audition

Embrace results of audition (and celebrate or mourn, accordingly)

If not cast, return to  step 1

If cast: rehearse; open show; run show; close show; strike (and celebrate or mourn, accordingly)

Lather, rinse, repeat

Though I must add that it never feels exactly the same way twice (kinda like pregnancy, though I don't usually throw up at auditions so much).

Have 438 years of being in theatre in any way prepared me for dealing with my upcoming Major Life Change?  Of course not.  (You just lost your points earned in the first paragraph, sorry.)  I am still excited, nervous, elated, scared, anxious, trepidatious and slightly nauseous, aka:  Monday.  I sort of know what to expect and I have no idea what to expect.  It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. . . . . you get the picture.

One thing I have learned after being alive 440 years (I started in theatre very young), is that I am an incredibly strong woman.  I spent the first 50 (Actual Number) years of my life being emotionally abused, but I have fought my way through that past shit to realize that not only am I not an incapable, next-to-useless human being,  but I am, in fact, a phenomenal, amazing and fabulous human being.  You have no idea how hard it was to type that last sentence.  Wow.  Okay, I think I'm getting too maudlin (not to mention ferklept) here--time for a fresh paragraph.

Anyroad, so I am blundering my way through all the above-mentioned emotions and going to do this thing on the 25^th.  And do it well.  

Change I can believe in?  Maybe.  Change I can handle?

Absolutely.  I Am Debbie, Hear Me Roar.

Nice work if you can get it

After months of unsuccessfully looking for a new job, I now feel qualified to get a job writing job descriptions:

EXECUTIVE ADMINISTRATIVE CUSTOMER CARE TECHNICIAN 

Must have 20+ years experience in the executive administrative customer care technician industry.  Must be proficient in Microsoft Outlook, Word, Excel, Powerpoint, brain surgery, electrical engineering, souffles and Mandarin.  Experience with Yetis preferred, but not required.  Must be able to lift 40 pounds, for no reason other than we want to watch you lift 40 pounds.  We offer a competitive package, which does not include any money, but likes to start fights.   We offer 401k, paid time off, life insurance, Lucky Charms and a ham at Christmas, but only after your first ten years of employment. 

Perhaps even more delusional and comical than the ads are "Employment Agencies".  I put that in quotes because I don't think that phrase means what they think that phrase means.  I am currently signed up with four different agencies and not a one has yet to send me out on an interview. (I would prefer to think of this as a deficiency on their part, rather than a reflection of my mediocre resume, disappointing skill set and decrepit age.) They ask you such irrelevent questions as:

EA:  What is your dream job?

ME:  Working in a harem by day, in a rep theatre by night. I like to keep busy.

EA:  What is the most money you'll take as salary?

ME:  I won't accept a penny over $3,405,984 a year.

EA:  Where do you see yourself in 20 years?

ME:  In a nursing home.  Who the fuck sees themselves anywhere in 20 years??  Most of us are   just grateful we still see ourselves in the mirror every morning.  (Though some mornings, not so much.)

EA:  We'll be in touch.

ME:  Yeah, whatever.

I actually had a lady from an agency call me today and tell me I shouldn't have answered the ad they posted, because they are only a temp agency.  Well, if the ad had said it was a temp job, I wouldn't have applied to it and it would have saved her making that phone call, which neither of us particularly enjoyed.  Communication makes it happen, people!

But I am serious about that harem thing, because I look good in veils. 

What, me worry?

Yes.  A lot.  Some days more than others.  Guess if this is one of those days. . . . Congratulations, and thanks for playing.

I am proud to say I am an Equal Opportunity Worrier.  I worry about the future.  I worry about the past.  I worry about the present.  I worry if I'm not worrying.  If I'm not worrying, I worry about what I'll worry about next.  If I'm not worrying, I worry about WHY I'm not worrying, etc., etc.  I even worried that I had blogged about worry before.  (So I checked and I hadn't.)  (But what if I just didn't notice it??? ooohhh. . . . . )

I know worrying never makes me feel any better.  Nor does it ever solve an issue I am worrying about.  And I honestly do make an attempt to talk myself out of it.  Some days that works better than others.  Guess if this one of those days. . . .Congratulations, you're two for two.

Some days I think my brain barrels into Worrytown just because it can't think of anything else to do.  Maybe if I start doing random mathematical equations in my head. . . .hahahahaha!!! (I thought I'd throw in a little humor.  You're welcome.)

Like many other of my lesser loved attributes (my extreme shortitude, the curly hair), I have embraced my propensity for worry and accepted it for what it is.  It's part of who I am and I have learned to not take it too seriously. 

Now, if I could just figure out how to parlay it into a career.

"World Wide Worrying.  Tired of endless worries?  Let me take them over for you!  As a Certified Worryologist (member of W.U.S.S., Worrier's United Secret Society),  I can absorb your worries and allow you to get on with productive thinking; giving you the peace of mind that your worries are being tenderly and lovingly nutured in a completely Organic Paranoid Environment, free of pesticides and chemicals {okay, I do actually use chemicals, but I ain't advertising that!}.  Call today for your free quote!  (Wait, let me make sure my phone is charged. . . yeah, okay, you can call now.  Please????)"

All I need is a jingle.

I'm Forgettable

I went to an employment agency today.  It's the second time in two months I've been there.  Seems they lost all record of me being there the first time; the guy interviewing me muttered something about "changing systems".  Yeah, well, whatever.  I'm not taking those damn tests over again, dude, you better find those scores from March.

This doesn't really surprise me.  I'm the kind of person who tends to fall between the cracks.  When I was a kid, there were a couple years in grade school where my teacher never remembered my name.

                                                LAST DAY OF SCHOOL

Me:      Bye, Miss McClellan.

MM:     Bye, er. . . .Betty.

Me:      Yeah, well, whatever.

I have people who I did shows with in the last 5-6 years ask me if we've ever been in a show together.  Yes, I played Aaron in Titus Andronicus and the covertible in Thelma and Louise. 

A few years ago, when I was in the torrential downplay improv troupe, J'Mel and I were at Rojo and some guy came up to J'Mel and told him how much he loved td.  J'mel pointed to me and said, "You know she's in the troupe, too."  The guy looked at me confusedly and said, "Oh, yeah.  Hi, er. . . Betty."  It's nice to know I make an impression on stage. 

Hey, wait.  Maybe my name really is Betty and I'm the one who doesn't remember me.  Ow.  My head hurts now.  Let's forget that theory.

I should really use this attribute to my advantage, work for the CIA or something.  Except that when I want to be invisible, I usually end up falling down (loudly), effectively blowing my cover.  Sometimes I just fall down for the hell of it, to keep up my skills.

Anyroad, I was very gracious about the employment agency forgetting about me, cause I'm not one for burning bridges.  But I do think the least they could do is find me a job.  That pays a lot of money.  And that I'd do well.  And I'd like.  And where they would remember who I was from day to day.  And they would also give me free unicorns and rainbows, because who am I kidding???  Those things don't exist! 

Anymore than I do, evidently.  Oh, well, whatever.

Love,

Betty

Parenthood (part four, I think)

Remember what a shock it was when you first had kids?  Okay, I probably shouldn't write for you, so I'll just say this for me. I was overwhelmed at first.  I mean, I had been pregnant for nine months and I knew I eventually wouldn't be pregnant anymore and a baby would be here, but I didn't realize how drastically it would change my life.  F  O  R  E  V  E  R.

I had changed careers, had people I love drop dead on me, gotten married, discovered the Beatles:  all these things changed me forever in a small way, but not like having kids did.  I felt like I became a completely different person when I became a mom, like suddenly my life seemed to matter more.

Now, I realize that maybe one of the reasons I felt that way is because of all the low self-esteem baggage I've carried around all my life.  (Although, I am happy to report that instead of lugging around 3 steamer trunks, 2 suitcases and a make-up bag, I'm now just sporting a backpack.)  But there is something about holding new life that you created and staring into those little blue eyes that just does a number on your heart and it never beats the same way again.  

Reading over this, it seems rather simplistic; like next I'll write about how air is nifty to breathe; but next week is Mother's Day, and, coincidentally, my first-born's birthday, so it's been on my mind, and you know I tend to spew forth whatever is on my mind, so there we are. 

Just be grateful I didn't blog during my Macarena Obsession.  And Happy Mother's Day.

I'm Back

Hey, pals.  Long time no blog.  But, like a bad penny, I've turned up again.  (What makes a penny bad?  Why do they turn up more than good pennies?  Discuss.)

After my show closes next week, I will be on a "break".   (That's a Theatre Term for not getting cast.) Since I have been in rehearsal/production since November, I guess I'm due, but I can't say I'm looking forward to it.  (I mean, I can, I'm physically able to say that, but, oh, never mind….This is what happens when I haven't blogged in a while.  L  I'm sure I'll get back in the swing of things in a paragraph or two.  Please bear with me.)

Anyroad, I will then have oodles of downtime and I'm not very good with downtime, because I tend to let it get me down.  I can never quite stamp out the feeling that I'll never get cast again, which leads me to doubt my acting ability, which leads me to doubt my self-worth, which leads to some long, lonely evenings.  But, the depressedness (Is that a word?  It is now.)  of that last sentence aside, I am basically an optimistic person.  Usually about other people's lives, not my own, but, I've become cautiously optimistic about my own life of late.

It feels weird.

In spite of all the crap I've been through in the last ten years (not to mention the 50 before that), some really good things have come out of the last decade:

1.         I re-discovered my love of theatre. 

2.         I made some wonderful friends.

3.         I learned that giving all your money away to guy who says he loves you but doesn't is not a good idea.

4.         I learned I'm okay on my own.

5.         I learned that no matter what kind of fuckedupshit gets thrown at me, I am a helluva strong woman with an amazing sense of humor and that will get me through anything.

That last one is kind of a biggie.  And, admittedly, there are days I struggle with that concept,  

but fewer than there used to be. 

So I will survive my break.  And, at some point, someone will cast me in something. Maybe.  I hope.  Sure they will, sure they will. . . . .