As it turns out, all of my worry was for nothing.
We went in and shot the play last night and I actually had a lot of fun doing it. It was kind of amazing to me (and everyone else there) how fresh the show was considering we've not touched it in two and a half months. But I think we were all still finding new things in the script to play with and it was just plain fun.
The end product is not going to be posted on the interweb for all to see. It will be distributed to the five of us involved in the production on DVD to just...have. So we have it. In case we need it for something, or want to take a quick jaunt down memory lane for a few minutes. Meaning, I don't think I need to worry about the girls from high school or random dudes in LA seeing it and finding me physically repulsive. Beyond which, we got to watch it last night when we were done shooting and I didn't find myself nearly as physically repulsive as I had built myself up in my head to be. I'm not saying I have a perfect beach bod that I'm going to run around all summer flaunting it in a bikini or anything, but I also don't think I look like Jabba the Hut, either, so that's reassuring. I think it also helped that the cameraman was doing facial close-ups whenever possible so my rear end spends quite a bit of time not on screen, which is good. If I'm allowed to say it, though, I have super crazy long legs. Just sayin'.
Anyway. All that worry for nothing. It feels good to have that under my belt. And safely tucked away where I have some sort of control over who gets to see it. That makes me happy.
Monday, April 09, 2012
Tuesday, April 03, 2012
Fear of Exposure
I have to admit, I'm a little bit scared and nervous.
A couple of months ago, I was in a showcase of plays at the theater where I had been taking classes. All around, it was an amazing experience and I got to work with incredible people and just plain had a great time doing the showcase.
One of the pieces I was in had me playing a hooker that nobody wants, essentially. The show was about these two guys who have a fantasy and are confronted with a reality and don't really like the reality. It's a great piece and I loved doing it, even though it involved a rather small costume (nothing that would garner an X rating, barely R, if you ask me. All of the important bits were covered). The whole point of casting someone like me in this role is that I am not a size zero and in a way, it was empowering to be on stage every night in that role, possibly making audience members uncomfortable for how exposed I was physically and emotionally.
This coming Sunday, we're filming the piece so that we have the piece filmed. I don't remember whose idea it was - if the playwright wants it for his portfolio or if it is supposed to be the start of a "film bits of theater" type project that will include other plays down the line or if we're just doing it for the sheer joy of doing it, but we're filming the piece on Sunday. And I'm nervous.
That kind of physical exposure in live theater is easy for me to wrap my brain around and get comfortable with. It is sort of like ripping a band-aid off - you just take off the coat and there you are in a halter top and short shorts and you still have a show to do. Hopefully you can affect the audience enough that they aren't picking apart every one of your physical flaws in the four minutes you are on stage.
That kind of physical exposure on film is daunting. People will be able to freeze frame on me while I'm sitting down or twisting oddly so I'll look even bigger than I actually am. People who aren't of the mindset that they are going to see art that is making a statement may have access to see it. And while I am perfectly comfortable doing it and kind of flattered that I get to represent the non-stick girl in a "sexy" role, I know that not everyone who watches the film will see it that way. I know that girls I went to high school with will watch it and think, "Oh my god, she looks terrible!" so that they can feel better about themselves. Even random strangers may post comments (depending on how the film is distributed) talking about how repulsive it is to have a woman of my shape on film wearing so little. Depending on how the film is distributed, I kind of feel like I have to brace myself for an onslaught of "Sweet jebus, she's disgusting," because I'm not what you expect to see when you expect to see a hooker.
That being said, I'm not going to not do it. Yes, I'm a little scared and nervous, but I'm not going to let that stop me (is that what people are referring to when they call me fearless?). The people who saw the show live were impressed with my bravery and emotional presence in the scene - even people who didn't know me. I made a great impression on fellow actors whose work I have long admired. So I'm not going to let a little fear stand in the way of producing art I believe in. And I'm not going to starve myself between now and Sunday to try to lose two pounds before the shoot. I like food. Food is my friend. Food is necessary for survival and I would much rather look like this than be unhappy, groggy, and grumpy all of the time because I'm not eating enough carbohydrates. I think The Brothers Green will agree with me on this and as we all know, what The Brothers Green say is law. I mean that in the best possible way - I've been a little obsessed with watching their videos in all of their various forms recently because they're just, well, charming, intelligent, and funny.
But I digresss.
I'm looking forward to having a record of this project - that part is really cool. I'm just nervous about what people will say about my physical shape, which can best be described as "round." People can be mean. Especially people you don't know on the internet. So I'm apologizing in advance if I need to lean on the people who love me a little bit and ask for reassurances that you still love me even though I'm rounder than your typical Hollywood starlet. I do sort of hope that if more people like me get to play more roles like this and gain more exposure, maybe we can shift (albeit slowly) the general perception of female beauty away from something that is unattainable, unhealthy, and detrimental to so many. Baby steps, right? Here's hoping this can be one of them.
Or maybe I'm worrying about nothing because the only people who will ever see it are people who saw the live production anyway.I do tend to worry about things needlessly from time to time.
A couple of months ago, I was in a showcase of plays at the theater where I had been taking classes. All around, it was an amazing experience and I got to work with incredible people and just plain had a great time doing the showcase.
One of the pieces I was in had me playing a hooker that nobody wants, essentially. The show was about these two guys who have a fantasy and are confronted with a reality and don't really like the reality. It's a great piece and I loved doing it, even though it involved a rather small costume (nothing that would garner an X rating, barely R, if you ask me. All of the important bits were covered). The whole point of casting someone like me in this role is that I am not a size zero and in a way, it was empowering to be on stage every night in that role, possibly making audience members uncomfortable for how exposed I was physically and emotionally.
This coming Sunday, we're filming the piece so that we have the piece filmed. I don't remember whose idea it was - if the playwright wants it for his portfolio or if it is supposed to be the start of a "film bits of theater" type project that will include other plays down the line or if we're just doing it for the sheer joy of doing it, but we're filming the piece on Sunday. And I'm nervous.
That kind of physical exposure in live theater is easy for me to wrap my brain around and get comfortable with. It is sort of like ripping a band-aid off - you just take off the coat and there you are in a halter top and short shorts and you still have a show to do. Hopefully you can affect the audience enough that they aren't picking apart every one of your physical flaws in the four minutes you are on stage.
That kind of physical exposure on film is daunting. People will be able to freeze frame on me while I'm sitting down or twisting oddly so I'll look even bigger than I actually am. People who aren't of the mindset that they are going to see art that is making a statement may have access to see it. And while I am perfectly comfortable doing it and kind of flattered that I get to represent the non-stick girl in a "sexy" role, I know that not everyone who watches the film will see it that way. I know that girls I went to high school with will watch it and think, "Oh my god, she looks terrible!" so that they can feel better about themselves. Even random strangers may post comments (depending on how the film is distributed) talking about how repulsive it is to have a woman of my shape on film wearing so little. Depending on how the film is distributed, I kind of feel like I have to brace myself for an onslaught of "Sweet jebus, she's disgusting," because I'm not what you expect to see when you expect to see a hooker.
That being said, I'm not going to not do it. Yes, I'm a little scared and nervous, but I'm not going to let that stop me (is that what people are referring to when they call me fearless?). The people who saw the show live were impressed with my bravery and emotional presence in the scene - even people who didn't know me. I made a great impression on fellow actors whose work I have long admired. So I'm not going to let a little fear stand in the way of producing art I believe in. And I'm not going to starve myself between now and Sunday to try to lose two pounds before the shoot. I like food. Food is my friend. Food is necessary for survival and I would much rather look like this than be unhappy, groggy, and grumpy all of the time because I'm not eating enough carbohydrates. I think The Brothers Green will agree with me on this and as we all know, what The Brothers Green say is law. I mean that in the best possible way - I've been a little obsessed with watching their videos in all of their various forms recently because they're just, well, charming, intelligent, and funny.
But I digresss.
I'm looking forward to having a record of this project - that part is really cool. I'm just nervous about what people will say about my physical shape, which can best be described as "round." People can be mean. Especially people you don't know on the internet. So I'm apologizing in advance if I need to lean on the people who love me a little bit and ask for reassurances that you still love me even though I'm rounder than your typical Hollywood starlet. I do sort of hope that if more people like me get to play more roles like this and gain more exposure, maybe we can shift (albeit slowly) the general perception of female beauty away from something that is unattainable, unhealthy, and detrimental to so many. Baby steps, right? Here's hoping this can be one of them.
Or maybe I'm worrying about nothing because the only people who will ever see it are people who saw the live production anyway.I do tend to worry about things needlessly from time to time.
Monday, April 02, 2012
Grumble, Grumble
I've been angry a lot lately and I don't like that. If you are one of the people I have been angry in the general direction of lately, I apologize for that. I know who and what is making me angry (for the most part), but I don't necessarily have good mechanisms in place for dealing with those specific things or people. I don't know what to do when confronted with incompetence and pettiness and apathy and dismissal. For the most part, I think I'm pretty good at keeping the focus of my anger where it belongs - toward the specific instance of incompetence or pettiness or apathy or dismissal - as opposed to just letting loose and being a bitch to every one and every thing around me. But I don't like having this much anger. It's not good for me to be angry so much of the time.
I also know that the Universe doesn't owe me anything. The only thing it could be argued that I really have a right to is oxygen, so I shouldn't get so bent out of shape when I follow the rules and am told there is a reward at the end and then find out that there is no reward. Nobody owes me a reward. I have no more right to it than anyone else. Though it sometimes feels like I have less of a chance to get it than anyone else. I know there have been instances in my life where it came down to the difficult decision of choosing me or choosing someone else and nine times out of ten, the someone else is chosen. I'm not the sort that gets picked. I'm not the sort that wins things. And I have to wonder if I don't get the benefit of the doubt (or whatever it is that ultimately makes someone else get picked over me) because people just kind of know I'll be okay without that opportunity. Which I usually am. It just gets frustrating to not get that opportunity, you know?
I think it is important to recognize anger. To be able to name it and place it where it is supposed to go. But I also think it is important to let it go once it has been identified, and I need to get better at that. Holding on to this much anger is detrimental to my well-being and makes me a person I don't want to be.
Sometimes, I just need to let it go.
I also know that the Universe doesn't owe me anything. The only thing it could be argued that I really have a right to is oxygen, so I shouldn't get so bent out of shape when I follow the rules and am told there is a reward at the end and then find out that there is no reward. Nobody owes me a reward. I have no more right to it than anyone else. Though it sometimes feels like I have less of a chance to get it than anyone else. I know there have been instances in my life where it came down to the difficult decision of choosing me or choosing someone else and nine times out of ten, the someone else is chosen. I'm not the sort that gets picked. I'm not the sort that wins things. And I have to wonder if I don't get the benefit of the doubt (or whatever it is that ultimately makes someone else get picked over me) because people just kind of know I'll be okay without that opportunity. Which I usually am. It just gets frustrating to not get that opportunity, you know?
I think it is important to recognize anger. To be able to name it and place it where it is supposed to go. But I also think it is important to let it go once it has been identified, and I need to get better at that. Holding on to this much anger is detrimental to my well-being and makes me a person I don't want to be.
Sometimes, I just need to let it go.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
I Just...I Just Don't Know
I'm feeling a little ootsy today, which, of course, has me thinking I should blog. Writing helps, right? Right?
I went to a rehearsal/audition/workshop thingy last night (I'm honestly not sure what it was as we were working on a play (kind of) in which I have yet to be cast (officially, if I ever will be cast, I don't know) but we read scenes and danced and brainstormed and whatnot) in a neighborhood I don't think I've ever visited before. I go to this particular suburb fairly often because it's right next door to the city and it has a really good movie theater, but when I'm going to the theater, I drive north until I don't need to anymore and then I turn right. To get to the rehearsal/audition/workshop thingy, I turned left. Which, for all of you Whovians out there might bring up ominous feeling and let me say, rightly so. Rightly so. I turned left. And within a block or so, I started to feel very out of place. I don't know that I can describe this feeling to people who don't live in major metropolitan areas, but after living in a city for a while, you start to get an instinctive feel for what neighborhoods you're comfortable walking around in at night by yourself and which ones you are not. I started to get the feeling that this was one I should not be walking around in at night by myself. Which was inconvenient as it was night and I was by myself. There is a high school there, which should indicate some level of safety, but I also know that hooligans like to hang out near their school and wreak havoc from time to time. Maybe because they don't like school in general, or maybe because they all know where it is and how to get there. And since there was really lovely weather last night, there were plenty of people out and about. Or, just out. There was a mob of twenty or so kids hanging out in front of the building where my rehearsal/audition/workshop thingy was taking place, just sort of hanging out. Until one of them yelled, "Now!" and they swarmed into the intersection like migratory birds or something and jumped up on the cars parked along either side of the street.
Now, I don't like to be one to believe stereotypes. I like to believe that people are generally good and if you don't bug them, they won't bug you. Like bees. But I also know that "mob mentality" is a real thing, so these kids running into the street (against the light, mind you) and jumping on parked cars made me nervous. Scratch that. It scared me. I was afraid to leave my car and walk into the building. I thought about asking them to please just not jump on MY car, but realized that would involve talking to them which may appear confrontational and it may just be an invitation for them to really vandalize my car. Like when someone asks you to stop calling them "Buddy," so you do nothing but call them "Buddy" for the next three years because you know it annoys them.
On the up side, they didn't do anything to my car. Nor did they even really notice me as I walked into the building. So that's good. But it left sort of a weird flavor in my mouth all night and sort of tainted my first impression of the really cool place where the rehearsal/audition/workshop thingy took place. I'm going back there during the day on Sunday for another rehearsal/audition/workshop thingy, and hopefully that will help cleanse the palate.
But I think the experience carried over into my dreams. I dreamed I was suddenly put in charge of a small child - a boy maybe five years old? He looked like the young version of Jimmy from Raising Hope - whose mother (the only existing parent) was going off to war. And this kid did not like that arrangement AT ALL. He was crying and whining and squirming and complaining. He wanted to call her on the aircraft carrier she was on headed over to the Middle East and I was trying to explain that this wasn't a good time to call mommy because she was doing military type stuff and time changes and do they even have phones on aircraft carriers for personal calls and then suddenly, my honorary sister was there saying it was totally possible to call this kid's mom because she was in transit and probably not all that busy at the moment anyway, which was very not helpful. The kid even made a break for it, like he was going to run away and find his mom and I felt so helpless and ineffective and alone in the whole thing. I woke up feeling miserable, and kind of annoyed with my honorary sister for not backing me up.
I'm getting tired of these dreams of helplessness and loneliness. I'm sure they have to do with things going on in my life that I don't want to talk about here, and are probably a reflection of the fact that I have no control over those things and it drives me crazy that I just have to let them play out, you know? But I'm ready for them to play out so I can stop having upsetting dreams. Upsetting dreams do not leave a person feeling rested and ready to face the new day.
But we have nice weather at the moment (record high temperatures), which means I get to walk outside on my lunch break from work. Which is nice. If I get a little nice during the day, it helps offset the not-so-nice at night.
I could still use a decent night's sleep, though.
I went to a rehearsal/audition/workshop thingy last night (I'm honestly not sure what it was as we were working on a play (kind of) in which I have yet to be cast (officially, if I ever will be cast, I don't know) but we read scenes and danced and brainstormed and whatnot) in a neighborhood I don't think I've ever visited before. I go to this particular suburb fairly often because it's right next door to the city and it has a really good movie theater, but when I'm going to the theater, I drive north until I don't need to anymore and then I turn right. To get to the rehearsal/audition/workshop thingy, I turned left. Which, for all of you Whovians out there might bring up ominous feeling and let me say, rightly so. Rightly so. I turned left. And within a block or so, I started to feel very out of place. I don't know that I can describe this feeling to people who don't live in major metropolitan areas, but after living in a city for a while, you start to get an instinctive feel for what neighborhoods you're comfortable walking around in at night by yourself and which ones you are not. I started to get the feeling that this was one I should not be walking around in at night by myself. Which was inconvenient as it was night and I was by myself. There is a high school there, which should indicate some level of safety, but I also know that hooligans like to hang out near their school and wreak havoc from time to time. Maybe because they don't like school in general, or maybe because they all know where it is and how to get there. And since there was really lovely weather last night, there were plenty of people out and about. Or, just out. There was a mob of twenty or so kids hanging out in front of the building where my rehearsal/audition/workshop thingy was taking place, just sort of hanging out. Until one of them yelled, "Now!" and they swarmed into the intersection like migratory birds or something and jumped up on the cars parked along either side of the street.
Now, I don't like to be one to believe stereotypes. I like to believe that people are generally good and if you don't bug them, they won't bug you. Like bees. But I also know that "mob mentality" is a real thing, so these kids running into the street (against the light, mind you) and jumping on parked cars made me nervous. Scratch that. It scared me. I was afraid to leave my car and walk into the building. I thought about asking them to please just not jump on MY car, but realized that would involve talking to them which may appear confrontational and it may just be an invitation for them to really vandalize my car. Like when someone asks you to stop calling them "Buddy," so you do nothing but call them "Buddy" for the next three years because you know it annoys them.
On the up side, they didn't do anything to my car. Nor did they even really notice me as I walked into the building. So that's good. But it left sort of a weird flavor in my mouth all night and sort of tainted my first impression of the really cool place where the rehearsal/audition/workshop thingy took place. I'm going back there during the day on Sunday for another rehearsal/audition/workshop thingy, and hopefully that will help cleanse the palate.
But I think the experience carried over into my dreams. I dreamed I was suddenly put in charge of a small child - a boy maybe five years old? He looked like the young version of Jimmy from Raising Hope - whose mother (the only existing parent) was going off to war. And this kid did not like that arrangement AT ALL. He was crying and whining and squirming and complaining. He wanted to call her on the aircraft carrier she was on headed over to the Middle East and I was trying to explain that this wasn't a good time to call mommy because she was doing military type stuff and time changes and do they even have phones on aircraft carriers for personal calls and then suddenly, my honorary sister was there saying it was totally possible to call this kid's mom because she was in transit and probably not all that busy at the moment anyway, which was very not helpful. The kid even made a break for it, like he was going to run away and find his mom and I felt so helpless and ineffective and alone in the whole thing. I woke up feeling miserable, and kind of annoyed with my honorary sister for not backing me up.
I'm getting tired of these dreams of helplessness and loneliness. I'm sure they have to do with things going on in my life that I don't want to talk about here, and are probably a reflection of the fact that I have no control over those things and it drives me crazy that I just have to let them play out, you know? But I'm ready for them to play out so I can stop having upsetting dreams. Upsetting dreams do not leave a person feeling rested and ready to face the new day.
But we have nice weather at the moment (record high temperatures), which means I get to walk outside on my lunch break from work. Which is nice. If I get a little nice during the day, it helps offset the not-so-nice at night.
I could still use a decent night's sleep, though.
Wednesday, March 07, 2012
Dreams
I've been tired a lot lately, and as such, I've been sleeping a lot. I'm not sure if that's helping, though, because I've been having some really odd, rather disturbing dreams of late.
Last night, I had a dream that I was going to my own engagement party. It took place at a church (which was strange enough to begin with), and when we walked in, the walls were covered with white pieces of paper that had names on them. I think they were supposed to be roses or some sort of decoration for the party, because there was a basket of them on one of the side tables and a sign that said, "Name and Relationship." My guess is that people were supposed to write their name on the rose and how they knew the bride or groom and put them on the wall, maybe so we could see how supported and loved we were? Thing is, I didn't recognize any of the names. I had arrived at the party with my mother, and watched her very determinedly fill out a rose and stick it on the wall in an act of "even if we don't know these other people, I love my daughter" and I love her for that. She's that kind of mom. But my fiance was suspiciously absent from the party, as well. Even in photographs. There were pictures of him and pictures of me, but only one of the two of us together and for the life of me, I can't place his face. In my dream, I remember saying, "I guess maybe we should start taking some pictures together." And I knew that I wasn't terribly excited about this marriage. Whoever this guy was (I remember his name was James and I think he was a friend of my brother's?), I wasn't marrying him because we were head over heels in love but because he asked and who else was I going to marry? So that dream left me feeling rather sad. My own engagement party was a) not really about me and b) not cause for much celebration.
So I woke up, scritched my cat behind the ears for a few minutes and went back to sleep.
I had another dream, this time that I was in the emergency room of a hospital giving blood. I gave two pints from my left arm and they wanted to get another one from my right, and then they had to collect some bone marrow or something from my right wrist joint. After they got the third pint of blood but before the wrist joint thing, I saw some other friends of mine in the emergency room who were there for other various procedures and I chatted with them for a bit. I felt safe when I hugged them and terrified of going back to my "bed" for the wrist joint thing. Because I knew that in order for them to get whatever it was they needed, they would have to insert a very long, very large needle through the heel of my hand to the bones in my wrist. I didn't want my friends to let me go, or I wanted one of them to go with me, but they had their own procedures to have done. So I went back to my bed when I had no more excuses not to, and they had adjusted it so that my feet would be higher than my head, presumably to facilitate getting the right angle from my palm through to my wrist, but they adjusted it too far and I slid right off, head first, onto the floor. We all laughed about that for a minute and I climbed back onto the bed (I stayed on this time) and hoped against hope that it wouldn't hurt as bad as I thought it was going to. But it did. In my dream, I could feel the pain of the needle piercing my palm and penetrating through to my wrist. I wanted someone's hand to hold and squeeze, but none of my friends were there. And the really strange part is not so much that I felt this horrid pain in my dream, but that I was aware that while I was dreaming about this pain in my hand, I consciously knew I was lying in my own bed at home with my hand resting on my stomach. I could feel that position in real life at the same time. It was odd. And painful. And when I woke up for good this time, I checked my hand first thing to see if there was a mark on it. Which, of course, there wasn't.
So the common threads in these dreams were feelings of solitude, sadness, and nonchalance. Add these to the dream I had a couple of nights ago about single-handedly fighting blue zombies with machetes (and eventually losing when a child zombie bit my thigh) and I'd say I'm about due for a really happy dream. A dream wherein I feel loved and safe and secure and happy. Or, there is something going on in my life that is making me feel very isolated that I need to examine. These sorts of dreams certainly don't make sleeping very restful.
Last night, I had a dream that I was going to my own engagement party. It took place at a church (which was strange enough to begin with), and when we walked in, the walls were covered with white pieces of paper that had names on them. I think they were supposed to be roses or some sort of decoration for the party, because there was a basket of them on one of the side tables and a sign that said, "Name and Relationship." My guess is that people were supposed to write their name on the rose and how they knew the bride or groom and put them on the wall, maybe so we could see how supported and loved we were? Thing is, I didn't recognize any of the names. I had arrived at the party with my mother, and watched her very determinedly fill out a rose and stick it on the wall in an act of "even if we don't know these other people, I love my daughter" and I love her for that. She's that kind of mom. But my fiance was suspiciously absent from the party, as well. Even in photographs. There were pictures of him and pictures of me, but only one of the two of us together and for the life of me, I can't place his face. In my dream, I remember saying, "I guess maybe we should start taking some pictures together." And I knew that I wasn't terribly excited about this marriage. Whoever this guy was (I remember his name was James and I think he was a friend of my brother's?), I wasn't marrying him because we were head over heels in love but because he asked and who else was I going to marry? So that dream left me feeling rather sad. My own engagement party was a) not really about me and b) not cause for much celebration.
So I woke up, scritched my cat behind the ears for a few minutes and went back to sleep.
I had another dream, this time that I was in the emergency room of a hospital giving blood. I gave two pints from my left arm and they wanted to get another one from my right, and then they had to collect some bone marrow or something from my right wrist joint. After they got the third pint of blood but before the wrist joint thing, I saw some other friends of mine in the emergency room who were there for other various procedures and I chatted with them for a bit. I felt safe when I hugged them and terrified of going back to my "bed" for the wrist joint thing. Because I knew that in order for them to get whatever it was they needed, they would have to insert a very long, very large needle through the heel of my hand to the bones in my wrist. I didn't want my friends to let me go, or I wanted one of them to go with me, but they had their own procedures to have done. So I went back to my bed when I had no more excuses not to, and they had adjusted it so that my feet would be higher than my head, presumably to facilitate getting the right angle from my palm through to my wrist, but they adjusted it too far and I slid right off, head first, onto the floor. We all laughed about that for a minute and I climbed back onto the bed (I stayed on this time) and hoped against hope that it wouldn't hurt as bad as I thought it was going to. But it did. In my dream, I could feel the pain of the needle piercing my palm and penetrating through to my wrist. I wanted someone's hand to hold and squeeze, but none of my friends were there. And the really strange part is not so much that I felt this horrid pain in my dream, but that I was aware that while I was dreaming about this pain in my hand, I consciously knew I was lying in my own bed at home with my hand resting on my stomach. I could feel that position in real life at the same time. It was odd. And painful. And when I woke up for good this time, I checked my hand first thing to see if there was a mark on it. Which, of course, there wasn't.
So the common threads in these dreams were feelings of solitude, sadness, and nonchalance. Add these to the dream I had a couple of nights ago about single-handedly fighting blue zombies with machetes (and eventually losing when a child zombie bit my thigh) and I'd say I'm about due for a really happy dream. A dream wherein I feel loved and safe and secure and happy. Or, there is something going on in my life that is making me feel very isolated that I need to examine. These sorts of dreams certainly don't make sleeping very restful.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Stupid and Angry
I'm angry today and feeling stupid now.
Let's say your internet company calls you up and says, "Your internet isn't working, we'll send a new router to you and you'll have it in 3-5 days." And a week and a half goes by and you don't have the new router yet, so you call them back and say, "I thought you were going to send me a new router. Has it shipped yet?" And they tell you, "Oh, we issued a new router but there was something wrong with it so your account is on hold."
"Why is my account on hold?"
"There was something wrong with the router."
"What?"
"Please hold." *muzak* "Okay, we've located a working router and taken your account off of hold and you'll have it tomorrow."
"Groovy, thanks."
So tomorrow comes and they sent the new router to your mom's house instead of your house. So you call the delivery company and ask them to change the address (since your mom was smart enough to refuse the package) and they process your change of address request so that your router will be delivered to where you are between normal delivery hours the following day.
Except, the delivery guy shows up an hour late. You've already left because you had other commitments. You're hoping he'll not actually deliver your router since you're not there to receive it and will try again the next day but no, the tracking information for the delivery says he delivered it and left it outside the front door an hour after the front door is locked for the night.
So you hurry in the next morning, hoping to find your router waiting for you outside the front door, but it's not there. It's not in the hallway. It's not blowing down the street. Your router is nowhere to be found and all the delivery company can say when you call them is that they don't know where it is, either, since the delivery guy said he left it at the front door. And at this point, you've been without interweb for two weeks and it's getting ridiculous and you're frustrated and angry. So you call your internet provider back and tell them that the delivery company lost your router and they need to run a track and trace on it and they need to disassociate the serial number of that router from your account since it was never in your possession and you don't know where it is and you don't want to be held responsible for something that the delivery company lost. Your internet provider reports that router lost and after quite a bit more hassle, agrees to overnight another router to you, shipped to where you will be the next day when you will be there, because this whole thing is just a freaking mess at this point and you're freaked out and angry and you've been a model internet customer for a really long time and I'm sure they're pissed off that one of their routers is now lost, too.
And then, ten minutes later, your neighbor knocks on the door with your router that was delivered to him last night when the delivery guy showed up an hour late.
So I'm angry. And frustrated. And feeling stupid. If the delivery company had just said they left it with my neighbor instead of at the front door, I would be in possession of my package now and all would be good. As it stands, I have to camp out at home tomorrow until the delivery guy shows up with the replacement for the replacement for the replacement because someone got frisky and messed with my account in the first place.
And I will freely admit that maybe I should have waited a bit before completely freaking out on the delivery company and "internet service provider" (this has nothing to do with my interweb - it's an adjacent metaphorical story), but wouldn't you? If sensitive information was supposedly left somewhere in the open where it then obviously wasn't?
I could use some happy today. I could really use some happy. I don't like feeling stupid and angry. I don't like yelling at people on the phone. I'm sure they are all very nice people who are just trying to do their jobs but when they can't answer my questions or provide reasonable solutions to my problems, I get frustrated and start to yell. I don't like that. I'm sorry if you are one of the people I yelled at today. You didn't deserve that. And if it helps at all, I'm mad at me, too, for not just waiting two hours to see what else would develop (even though I feel justified in my irritation at the incorrect information given to me).
So I'm sorry that I'm stupid and angry today. I'm going to go try to find some happy now.
Let's say your internet company calls you up and says, "Your internet isn't working, we'll send a new router to you and you'll have it in 3-5 days." And a week and a half goes by and you don't have the new router yet, so you call them back and say, "I thought you were going to send me a new router. Has it shipped yet?" And they tell you, "Oh, we issued a new router but there was something wrong with it so your account is on hold."
"Why is my account on hold?"
"There was something wrong with the router."
"What?"
"Please hold." *muzak* "Okay, we've located a working router and taken your account off of hold and you'll have it tomorrow."
"Groovy, thanks."
So tomorrow comes and they sent the new router to your mom's house instead of your house. So you call the delivery company and ask them to change the address (since your mom was smart enough to refuse the package) and they process your change of address request so that your router will be delivered to where you are between normal delivery hours the following day.
Except, the delivery guy shows up an hour late. You've already left because you had other commitments. You're hoping he'll not actually deliver your router since you're not there to receive it and will try again the next day but no, the tracking information for the delivery says he delivered it and left it outside the front door an hour after the front door is locked for the night.
So you hurry in the next morning, hoping to find your router waiting for you outside the front door, but it's not there. It's not in the hallway. It's not blowing down the street. Your router is nowhere to be found and all the delivery company can say when you call them is that they don't know where it is, either, since the delivery guy said he left it at the front door. And at this point, you've been without interweb for two weeks and it's getting ridiculous and you're frustrated and angry. So you call your internet provider back and tell them that the delivery company lost your router and they need to run a track and trace on it and they need to disassociate the serial number of that router from your account since it was never in your possession and you don't know where it is and you don't want to be held responsible for something that the delivery company lost. Your internet provider reports that router lost and after quite a bit more hassle, agrees to overnight another router to you, shipped to where you will be the next day when you will be there, because this whole thing is just a freaking mess at this point and you're freaked out and angry and you've been a model internet customer for a really long time and I'm sure they're pissed off that one of their routers is now lost, too.
And then, ten minutes later, your neighbor knocks on the door with your router that was delivered to him last night when the delivery guy showed up an hour late.
So I'm angry. And frustrated. And feeling stupid. If the delivery company had just said they left it with my neighbor instead of at the front door, I would be in possession of my package now and all would be good. As it stands, I have to camp out at home tomorrow until the delivery guy shows up with the replacement for the replacement for the replacement because someone got frisky and messed with my account in the first place.
And I will freely admit that maybe I should have waited a bit before completely freaking out on the delivery company and "internet service provider" (this has nothing to do with my interweb - it's an adjacent metaphorical story), but wouldn't you? If sensitive information was supposedly left somewhere in the open where it then obviously wasn't?
I could use some happy today. I could really use some happy. I don't like feeling stupid and angry. I don't like yelling at people on the phone. I'm sure they are all very nice people who are just trying to do their jobs but when they can't answer my questions or provide reasonable solutions to my problems, I get frustrated and start to yell. I don't like that. I'm sorry if you are one of the people I yelled at today. You didn't deserve that. And if it helps at all, I'm mad at me, too, for not just waiting two hours to see what else would develop (even though I feel justified in my irritation at the incorrect information given to me).
So I'm sorry that I'm stupid and angry today. I'm going to go try to find some happy now.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Yeah, You Don't Need to See That
I was cast in a couple of plays that open in January (yay!) at the theater where I took all sorts of classes about a year ago (yay!). For the most part, I am very excited about it. It is an evening of short plays, six in total, and I appear in two (which doesn't happen often - they don't like to double cast these shows because they want as many people working as possible). I really enjoy both scripts and both directors and both writers and both casts - I think it is going to make for a really fun night of theater.
In one of these shows, though, I will be wearing clothing that a woman of my age and body type really has no business wearing. That's kind of the point. And on the one hand, I know it's a sort of sight gag (not quite the right term, but I can't think of a better one), and I'm totally on board for that. Having been a costume designer, I know that the clothes do a lot to tell the story of the character and when I'm only on stage for three pages, there's a lot of story that needs to be told in not a lot of time, so whatever the costume can do to help is great. But on the other hand, I have body image issues. I think we all know this by now. I think we also all know by now that I don't have washboard abs or a cute, pert little rear end. I'm curvier and squishier than that. I take comfort in the fact that my cat likes to sleep on my curvy, squishy tummy. And I try to be an advocate for non-lollipop women in the arts to get more screen time, so to speak, so this would seem to be a great opportunity to showcase an extremely talented woman with a less than Hollywood-perfect physique.
But it's still freaking me out a little that I will be seen wearing...that. Like people will love me less if they see my exposed, fish-belly white, curvy, squishy tummy. Or like they will be so blinded by the stark whiteness of my legs that have not seen the light of day in years that they won't be able to focus on my performance.
I will do it. I will wear that costume on stage and I am sure that once I am in the scene, I won't even be thinking about it. I usually don't, once I'm in the scene. The anticipation of it is freaking me out a little. Almost motivating me to stop eating for the next two weeks and do lots of crunches, but I know that doing that would then fly in the face of the aesthetic of the piece. That wouldn't be true to the character or the director's vision or the writer's vision.
Anyway. I hope people come see these shows and enjoy them. I hope people are able to focus on my performances instead of my tummy. Though if you do come see them and stick around to talk to me after, I may need you to tell me that I'm pretty and you still like me.
Maybe.
In one of these shows, though, I will be wearing clothing that a woman of my age and body type really has no business wearing. That's kind of the point. And on the one hand, I know it's a sort of sight gag (not quite the right term, but I can't think of a better one), and I'm totally on board for that. Having been a costume designer, I know that the clothes do a lot to tell the story of the character and when I'm only on stage for three pages, there's a lot of story that needs to be told in not a lot of time, so whatever the costume can do to help is great. But on the other hand, I have body image issues. I think we all know this by now. I think we also all know by now that I don't have washboard abs or a cute, pert little rear end. I'm curvier and squishier than that. I take comfort in the fact that my cat likes to sleep on my curvy, squishy tummy. And I try to be an advocate for non-lollipop women in the arts to get more screen time, so to speak, so this would seem to be a great opportunity to showcase an extremely talented woman with a less than Hollywood-perfect physique.
But it's still freaking me out a little that I will be seen wearing...that. Like people will love me less if they see my exposed, fish-belly white, curvy, squishy tummy. Or like they will be so blinded by the stark whiteness of my legs that have not seen the light of day in years that they won't be able to focus on my performance.
I will do it. I will wear that costume on stage and I am sure that once I am in the scene, I won't even be thinking about it. I usually don't, once I'm in the scene. The anticipation of it is freaking me out a little. Almost motivating me to stop eating for the next two weeks and do lots of crunches, but I know that doing that would then fly in the face of the aesthetic of the piece. That wouldn't be true to the character or the director's vision or the writer's vision.
Anyway. I hope people come see these shows and enjoy them. I hope people are able to focus on my performances instead of my tummy. Though if you do come see them and stick around to talk to me after, I may need you to tell me that I'm pretty and you still like me.
Maybe.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Big Happy, Little Happy
I dream big.
I think anyone who knows me at all knows this by now. I can't help it - it's what I do. It could be an overactive imagination or some coping mechanism for dealing with disappointments in the real world, but I dream big. I dream of the day when I no longer have to worry about money. I dream of the day when all I have to do is be an artist. I dream of finding my life partner. I dream big.
Thing is, the big things don't happen very often. That's why they're the big things.
Often times, I find myself getting annoyed with the fact that the big things don't happen often. I know I've posted before that I sometimes feel like I need that "blow your face off" exciting thing to happen - like I'm owed some enormous debt by the Universe. I'm sure that's not true, but sometimes it feels that way, and then when all of the other little annoyances in life pile on top of that, I get grumpy.
What I need to remember is that there are a lot of "little happys" that happen all of the time. Getting a hug from my niece. Snuggling with my cat. Making someone laugh. I think I'm usually pretty good about recognizing these things and appreciating them for what they are. I was on the train not too long ago (I think it was when I was in New York) and this guy on the train sat next to me and ate these sour candy straws one by one out of their little package and it struck me as so beautiful that this man was enjoying his sour candy straws on the train that I almost started crying. So I think I'm good at recognizing the "little happys."
This time of year, though, is one wherein we're sort of taught that the big happys are supposed to happen. Movies and television shows pump us full of the idea that the holidays are magic and magic things happen just in time for Christmas. And when they don't...it can be disappointing. When the object of your affection doesn't suddenly pull you under the mistletoe for a quick kiss that you know in the movies means the start of a long, beautiful relationship. When the Christmas bonus doesn't happen at all. When you discover that all of the little holiday treats you've been enjoying really weren't calorie-free and you don't fit into your favorite trousers anymore. It can be easy to be grumpy.
But I got a little happy today. Maybe even a medium-sized happy that came with a nice side of ego boost. So I'm going to smile for a little bit and maybe even hope that it does snow because the world looks pretty when covered with new snow and I got enough little happy today to let me enjoy that. So go enjoy some happy - big or little - today. Maybe even spread it around. Today is a good day for happys of all sizes.
I think anyone who knows me at all knows this by now. I can't help it - it's what I do. It could be an overactive imagination or some coping mechanism for dealing with disappointments in the real world, but I dream big. I dream of the day when I no longer have to worry about money. I dream of the day when all I have to do is be an artist. I dream of finding my life partner. I dream big.
Thing is, the big things don't happen very often. That's why they're the big things.
Often times, I find myself getting annoyed with the fact that the big things don't happen often. I know I've posted before that I sometimes feel like I need that "blow your face off" exciting thing to happen - like I'm owed some enormous debt by the Universe. I'm sure that's not true, but sometimes it feels that way, and then when all of the other little annoyances in life pile on top of that, I get grumpy.
What I need to remember is that there are a lot of "little happys" that happen all of the time. Getting a hug from my niece. Snuggling with my cat. Making someone laugh. I think I'm usually pretty good about recognizing these things and appreciating them for what they are. I was on the train not too long ago (I think it was when I was in New York) and this guy on the train sat next to me and ate these sour candy straws one by one out of their little package and it struck me as so beautiful that this man was enjoying his sour candy straws on the train that I almost started crying. So I think I'm good at recognizing the "little happys."
This time of year, though, is one wherein we're sort of taught that the big happys are supposed to happen. Movies and television shows pump us full of the idea that the holidays are magic and magic things happen just in time for Christmas. And when they don't...it can be disappointing. When the object of your affection doesn't suddenly pull you under the mistletoe for a quick kiss that you know in the movies means the start of a long, beautiful relationship. When the Christmas bonus doesn't happen at all. When you discover that all of the little holiday treats you've been enjoying really weren't calorie-free and you don't fit into your favorite trousers anymore. It can be easy to be grumpy.
But I got a little happy today. Maybe even a medium-sized happy that came with a nice side of ego boost. So I'm going to smile for a little bit and maybe even hope that it does snow because the world looks pretty when covered with new snow and I got enough little happy today to let me enjoy that. So go enjoy some happy - big or little - today. Maybe even spread it around. Today is a good day for happys of all sizes.
Thursday, December 08, 2011
Another Day, Another "Thanks Anyway"
An actor's live is full of rejection. I knew that going in, and anyone else who considers this career path should know that. For every fifty auditions you go to, you may get one role. It is the odd lucky streak when you get to work consistently. Even amongst our big movie stars - from the time a movie is shot to the time it is released can be a period of anywhere from six months to two or three years. So when you don't see someone in anything for a while, just imagine how long it has actually been since they worked.
But I digress.
An actor's life is full of rejection, for all sorts of reasons. This morning, I got another, "You were great, but we're going another direction" email. On the one hand, I like that theater companies are sending these emails now. It used to just be if you didn't hear from them within about a week, you cross that one off your list. At least now they let the non-cast people know they weren't cast so we can stop thinking about it. That's nice. But it is still disappointing to not get to work on certain projects.
Which brings me back to my feeling that I need something to happen in my life that is so amazing it blows my face off. I feel like I need to define that a little better, because I am surrounded by lots of little things that go right and are lovely and I am thankful for them, but none of them blow my face off.
I have an amazing family and some really wonderful friends.
I love it that my apartment has been warm so far this year.
I love it that my cat is super snugly.
I'm thankful when I find parking on the street so I don't have to pay for parking at work.
I'm thankful that I have one of the all time great heads of hair.
It still makes me smile every day that I get to drive a little green bug.
I have been getting a lot of compliments lately on this one ring that I wear that I wasn't sure I'd be able to pull off in the first place.
All of these things are amazing and humbling and they make me smile and I am thankful for them on a daily basis.
The thing about the "blow my face off" thing is that I feel like it needs to be a game changer. It could start with something small, but it needs to produce some big end result. It would be best if it was also surprising.
For example, I got a phone call from a theater company with a bit of a reputation for putting on good theater, inviting me to come audition. That's pretty cool. Didn't blow my face off, though, because unless I get the part, nothing really changes. Now, if I get the part and we get really good reviews, that could be a bit of a game changer and maybe it will turn into the blow my face off thing, but it isn't there yet. For now, it's just really groovy. I do appreciate the awesomeness of some cool random thing in my day - like when I get to see a really amazing sunset, or when a puppy I've not met before licks my face - but my face is still in tact.
What I would really like, in terms of my face being blown off, is, like I said, some surprising game changer. David Tennant showing up at my door with a cupcake for a chat. Someone deciding to pay my rent for me one month (or one year). A significant bonus at work. Finding my life partner. Suddenly waking up twenty pounds lighter. Some movie producer using one of my songs in a blockbuster film. Landing a role on the BBC. You know - the big goals. Not the daily awesomeness that surrounds me. I love the daily awesomeness. I'd just like to mix it up a little, you know? Because there's a lot of daily crap, too.
So anyway. Someday. Someday my face will be blown off and I won't know what to do with myself. But it will be amazing.
But I digress.
An actor's life is full of rejection, for all sorts of reasons. This morning, I got another, "You were great, but we're going another direction" email. On the one hand, I like that theater companies are sending these emails now. It used to just be if you didn't hear from them within about a week, you cross that one off your list. At least now they let the non-cast people know they weren't cast so we can stop thinking about it. That's nice. But it is still disappointing to not get to work on certain projects.
Which brings me back to my feeling that I need something to happen in my life that is so amazing it blows my face off. I feel like I need to define that a little better, because I am surrounded by lots of little things that go right and are lovely and I am thankful for them, but none of them blow my face off.
I have an amazing family and some really wonderful friends.
I love it that my apartment has been warm so far this year.
I love it that my cat is super snugly.
I'm thankful when I find parking on the street so I don't have to pay for parking at work.
I'm thankful that I have one of the all time great heads of hair.
It still makes me smile every day that I get to drive a little green bug.
I have been getting a lot of compliments lately on this one ring that I wear that I wasn't sure I'd be able to pull off in the first place.
All of these things are amazing and humbling and they make me smile and I am thankful for them on a daily basis.
The thing about the "blow my face off" thing is that I feel like it needs to be a game changer. It could start with something small, but it needs to produce some big end result. It would be best if it was also surprising.
For example, I got a phone call from a theater company with a bit of a reputation for putting on good theater, inviting me to come audition. That's pretty cool. Didn't blow my face off, though, because unless I get the part, nothing really changes. Now, if I get the part and we get really good reviews, that could be a bit of a game changer and maybe it will turn into the blow my face off thing, but it isn't there yet. For now, it's just really groovy. I do appreciate the awesomeness of some cool random thing in my day - like when I get to see a really amazing sunset, or when a puppy I've not met before licks my face - but my face is still in tact.
What I would really like, in terms of my face being blown off, is, like I said, some surprising game changer. David Tennant showing up at my door with a cupcake for a chat. Someone deciding to pay my rent for me one month (or one year). A significant bonus at work. Finding my life partner. Suddenly waking up twenty pounds lighter. Some movie producer using one of my songs in a blockbuster film. Landing a role on the BBC. You know - the big goals. Not the daily awesomeness that surrounds me. I love the daily awesomeness. I'd just like to mix it up a little, you know? Because there's a lot of daily crap, too.
So anyway. Someday. Someday my face will be blown off and I won't know what to do with myself. But it will be amazing.
Tuesday, November 08, 2011
Tired and Ready to Move On
I've been thinking for a couple of weeks now that I want to make a vlog about this, but I just have yet to sit down and do it. So I'm writing about it, too, because it's sort of important to me and I don't want to forget about it. I may also need help sticking to it, but here goes.
I still fit into my high school prom dress.
I have told a couple of people this tidbit and their jaws kind of drop, like, "Oh my gosh, you're so lucky that you're still the same size you were in high school!" Thing is, it's not a tiny dress. I've never been the sort that fits into the tiny dresses. But I do still fit into my high school prom dress. Which means that even though I'm not tiny, my body hasn't changed all that much since high school.
I have spent I don't even know how much time dieting since then. I've tried Weight Watchers and SparkPeople and plain old calorie counting and some weird thing that was supposed to help me lose eleven pounds in ten days and I've tried various pills and cleanses and various workout programs and spent I don't even know how much money on gym memberships and supplements and other assorted associated crap. And for all of that, my body hasn't changed that much since high school.
Yes, there was probably a time between then and now when I was smaller than I am at this very moment. And there may have been a time when I was bigger than I am at this very moment. But the net gain/loss is about zero since high school.
The net gain/loss is about zero since high school.
So you know what? I'm done with it. Or, at the very least, I want to be done with it. I want to stop obsessing about how much ketchup I put on my soy dogs. I want to stop counting celery sticks. I want to stop berating myself for eating when I'm hungry or skipping a workout when I'm sick. I want to stop doing these insane things to my body chemistry that will ultimately end up leaving me with a net gain/loss of zero. I want to stop wasting the energy hating myself.
Now, I'm not saying I'm going to totally let myself go and let my health deteriorate. I still like going for walks, and I'll still do squats in the ladies' room when nobody is looking. I'm still vegan, so I'm still going to get my six or seven servings of fruits and vegetables a day. But I'm tired of limiting myself to twelve grapes when I want a snack. I'm tired of feeling guilty for eating! I'm sick of it. People need to eat to live. People need to eat carbohydrates for proper brain function and fats for proper nutrient absorption. I'm tired of not eating mashed potatoes because white starches aren't good for you. I'm tired of not having spaghetti for dinner because my lunch was kind of carb heavy if my body is really, really craving spaghetti. I'm tired of berating myself for having a snack at 10:00pm when I get home after a show and my stomach is growling. I'm tired of restricted calorie diets that leave me grumpy. I'm tired of hating myself for my food choices which are 80% of the time very healthy.
There are those who would argue that as an actor, I am acutely aware of things like this and that there is extra pressure on me to look a certain way so I can get certain types of roles. Thing is, I have come to the conclusion in the last year or so that I wouldn't get those roles anyway. I'm not an "ingenue type." I never have been. The closest I got to an ingenue type role was one I played in college because the girl who was originally cast got really sick and they needed someone to fill in and as the costume designer, I already knew the whole show so I did it. I would never have otherwise been cast in the role of the sort of flighty girl looking for her best friend's approval of her new boyfriend. I'm usually cast as the best friend from whom the flighty girl is seeking approval. Which is fine. Those characters are much more "me." So why am I killing myself to look a certain way so I can try to get roles I'm completely wrong for? It just doesn't make sense.
And how sad that it has taken me this long to figure that out?
But I am figuring it out. Which is the good part. Thing is, I have a pretty face. And I'm not obese. I am a very healthy person - good blood pressure, good cholesterol, all of that stuff. There are men out there who find me quite attractive, just the way I am. Not all of them, but that can be said about stick-thin women, too.
Being thin won't make me smarter.
Being thin won't make me a better actor.
Being thin won't make me a nicer person.
Being thin won't increase my contribution to society.
So why do I do all of this shit to try to be thinner?
I'm tired of it. And I want to stop. I want to eat when I'm hungry and listen to my body cravings to tell me what to eat. My body is pretty smart - if I need more protein, it will tell me - and if I listen to it, I'm pretty sure I'll get what I need. I want to enjoy a slice of cake on my birthday without feeling like I've failed as a person. I want to stop getting angry when I eat a meal that is 400 calories because that is too much food to be eating in one sitting (even though I'm perfectly happy to eat a whole bag of chips in one sitting). I'm just sick of how much time and energy I waste worrying about food and exercising because the majority of it is negative energy. Really negative energy. And I would like to be done with that.
I'd just like to get to a place where my body can kind of self-regulate. So far, it seems to be working, too. I'm not spending time hating myself for eating, which is actually getting rid of some of the urge to overeat.
So I'm going to stop worrying about my cravings for Fritos. When I want Fritos, I'll pick up a bag, eat a few until I don't want them anymore and put the rest away for later.
And I'm going to stop worrying about days when I don't work out. There are days when I walk six miles, and there are days when I spend the evening curled up with my cat on the couch.
What it all works out to is I am still a healthy person, a nice person, a talented person, a kind person, an intelligent person, an attractive person and a lovable person. Regardless of what size dress I wear.
I still fit into my high school prom dress.
I have told a couple of people this tidbit and their jaws kind of drop, like, "Oh my gosh, you're so lucky that you're still the same size you were in high school!" Thing is, it's not a tiny dress. I've never been the sort that fits into the tiny dresses. But I do still fit into my high school prom dress. Which means that even though I'm not tiny, my body hasn't changed all that much since high school.
I have spent I don't even know how much time dieting since then. I've tried Weight Watchers and SparkPeople and plain old calorie counting and some weird thing that was supposed to help me lose eleven pounds in ten days and I've tried various pills and cleanses and various workout programs and spent I don't even know how much money on gym memberships and supplements and other assorted associated crap. And for all of that, my body hasn't changed that much since high school.
Yes, there was probably a time between then and now when I was smaller than I am at this very moment. And there may have been a time when I was bigger than I am at this very moment. But the net gain/loss is about zero since high school.
The net gain/loss is about zero since high school.
So you know what? I'm done with it. Or, at the very least, I want to be done with it. I want to stop obsessing about how much ketchup I put on my soy dogs. I want to stop counting celery sticks. I want to stop berating myself for eating when I'm hungry or skipping a workout when I'm sick. I want to stop doing these insane things to my body chemistry that will ultimately end up leaving me with a net gain/loss of zero. I want to stop wasting the energy hating myself.
Now, I'm not saying I'm going to totally let myself go and let my health deteriorate. I still like going for walks, and I'll still do squats in the ladies' room when nobody is looking. I'm still vegan, so I'm still going to get my six or seven servings of fruits and vegetables a day. But I'm tired of limiting myself to twelve grapes when I want a snack. I'm tired of feeling guilty for eating! I'm sick of it. People need to eat to live. People need to eat carbohydrates for proper brain function and fats for proper nutrient absorption. I'm tired of not eating mashed potatoes because white starches aren't good for you. I'm tired of not having spaghetti for dinner because my lunch was kind of carb heavy if my body is really, really craving spaghetti. I'm tired of berating myself for having a snack at 10:00pm when I get home after a show and my stomach is growling. I'm tired of restricted calorie diets that leave me grumpy. I'm tired of hating myself for my food choices which are 80% of the time very healthy.
There are those who would argue that as an actor, I am acutely aware of things like this and that there is extra pressure on me to look a certain way so I can get certain types of roles. Thing is, I have come to the conclusion in the last year or so that I wouldn't get those roles anyway. I'm not an "ingenue type." I never have been. The closest I got to an ingenue type role was one I played in college because the girl who was originally cast got really sick and they needed someone to fill in and as the costume designer, I already knew the whole show so I did it. I would never have otherwise been cast in the role of the sort of flighty girl looking for her best friend's approval of her new boyfriend. I'm usually cast as the best friend from whom the flighty girl is seeking approval. Which is fine. Those characters are much more "me." So why am I killing myself to look a certain way so I can try to get roles I'm completely wrong for? It just doesn't make sense.
And how sad that it has taken me this long to figure that out?
But I am figuring it out. Which is the good part. Thing is, I have a pretty face. And I'm not obese. I am a very healthy person - good blood pressure, good cholesterol, all of that stuff. There are men out there who find me quite attractive, just the way I am. Not all of them, but that can be said about stick-thin women, too.
Being thin won't make me smarter.
Being thin won't make me a better actor.
Being thin won't make me a nicer person.
Being thin won't increase my contribution to society.
So why do I do all of this shit to try to be thinner?
I'm tired of it. And I want to stop. I want to eat when I'm hungry and listen to my body cravings to tell me what to eat. My body is pretty smart - if I need more protein, it will tell me - and if I listen to it, I'm pretty sure I'll get what I need. I want to enjoy a slice of cake on my birthday without feeling like I've failed as a person. I want to stop getting angry when I eat a meal that is 400 calories because that is too much food to be eating in one sitting (even though I'm perfectly happy to eat a whole bag of chips in one sitting). I'm just sick of how much time and energy I waste worrying about food and exercising because the majority of it is negative energy. Really negative energy. And I would like to be done with that.
I'd just like to get to a place where my body can kind of self-regulate. So far, it seems to be working, too. I'm not spending time hating myself for eating, which is actually getting rid of some of the urge to overeat.
So I'm going to stop worrying about my cravings for Fritos. When I want Fritos, I'll pick up a bag, eat a few until I don't want them anymore and put the rest away for later.
And I'm going to stop worrying about days when I don't work out. There are days when I walk six miles, and there are days when I spend the evening curled up with my cat on the couch.
What it all works out to is I am still a healthy person, a nice person, a talented person, a kind person, an intelligent person, an attractive person and a lovable person. Regardless of what size dress I wear.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho
And so begins my work trip to Italy. I made it from my front door to the gate with detours through a Jamba Juice and a currency exchange in an hour and a half. Which means now I get to wait here two hours for my flight. But it's fine. I'd rather be early than late.
I'm nervous about this trip, in part because it is for work and people are depending on me, and in part because I don't speak Italian. I've done a little bit of research on Milan and I should be okay - its not like I've never traveled internationally on my own before. I'm just nervous. My mom thinks that's normal for overseas travel. She's likely right about that.
I should get some time to walk around while I am there, and that should be fun. Probably just what I need. I will keep you posted (kind of) and will likely have pictures and video to share when I get back. Have a good weekend!
I'm nervous about this trip, in part because it is for work and people are depending on me, and in part because I don't speak Italian. I've done a little bit of research on Milan and I should be okay - its not like I've never traveled internationally on my own before. I'm just nervous. My mom thinks that's normal for overseas travel. She's likely right about that.
I should get some time to walk around while I am there, and that should be fun. Probably just what I need. I will keep you posted (kind of) and will likely have pictures and video to share when I get back. Have a good weekend!
Friday, October 14, 2011
Dream a Little Dream
I have been in desperate need of DTWAC for a while now. Maybe a month? I don't know if it started around the time my grandmother passed, or if it has anything to do with the fact that I've not yet really said goodbye to my friend who passed away from ALS while I was out of town at a wedding or if any of it is residual crap from this character I'm playing at the moment who is very...put upon? But I've been feeling, in general, very put upon lately and in need of DTWAC. Or something good. And surprising. I would like someone to be overwhelmingly nice to me for a minute without me having to ask for it. And now that I've typed that, I've asked for it, which means I'm going to feel ooky if anyone is overwhelmingly nice to me in the near future. So if you have any plans to be overwhelmingly nice, hold onto them for a few weeks and get me when I'm not expecting it so I can fully appreciate it. Deal?
But then last night, I had this completely lovely dream about Liverpool. I dreamed I was visiting a friend in Liverpool and it was absolutely gorgeous there. He didn't live in the city proper, but sort of on the outskirts, so when we wanted to go into the city to go exploring, since he doesn't drive, he rode a Big Wheel. While wearing a helmet and goggles. And he didn't have to pedal it for some reason, so it actually sort of looked like he was luge-ing on a Big Wheel down this twisty, gorgeous, remote mountain road. Because in my dreams, the space between the Liverpool suburbs and Liverpool proper is mountainous and forested and gorgeous. Like the opening(ish) shot in Tucker and Dale vs. Evil (which is brilliant, by the way. If you have the means, I highly recommend checking that movie out. It is extremely funny and very well done). And I thought he was crazy for luge-ing down this road on a Big Wheel, but I was keeping up with him somehow, without being on the Big Wheel. I guess I was flying? I did get some nice aerial views of his trip down the mountain into town, so I must have been flying, and laughing most of the way, too. When we got into the city, it was the kind of place where there was a Barnes and Noble on the corner, but there was also this tiny one-room shop full of all kinds of crap and some books that served both as a store and a kind of library. He grabbed a book and tossed it to the proprietor (a nice little old lady) and said, "Sign that out for me, would you?" I have no idea what the book was, but I thought it was cute that he could borrow a book from this tiny shop. And we went to get lunch somewhere that must have been like a food court or something, and while we were eating, he kept moving closer and closer to me - he started out across the table, but with every bite, he would scooch around the table until he ended up sitting right next to me. Which was kind of nice in and of itself. Nothing unseemly happened, it was just a nice day spent with a friend in a beautiful place.
And I woke up feeling better than I have in a really long time. Not grumpy. I'm kind of amazed at how much my dreams can affect my moods. Bad dreams can leave me in a funk all day. But this good dream has me feeling somewhat optimistic today. And I have no idea where it came from. Yes, I'm traveling next week, but not to visit a friend. The scenery came from Tucker and Dale. But the happy? No idea. I guess I should just be thankful for it and enjoy the dream time I got to spend with my friend.
Keep on dreaming, kids. It's good for you.
But then last night, I had this completely lovely dream about Liverpool. I dreamed I was visiting a friend in Liverpool and it was absolutely gorgeous there. He didn't live in the city proper, but sort of on the outskirts, so when we wanted to go into the city to go exploring, since he doesn't drive, he rode a Big Wheel. While wearing a helmet and goggles. And he didn't have to pedal it for some reason, so it actually sort of looked like he was luge-ing on a Big Wheel down this twisty, gorgeous, remote mountain road. Because in my dreams, the space between the Liverpool suburbs and Liverpool proper is mountainous and forested and gorgeous. Like the opening(ish) shot in Tucker and Dale vs. Evil (which is brilliant, by the way. If you have the means, I highly recommend checking that movie out. It is extremely funny and very well done). And I thought he was crazy for luge-ing down this road on a Big Wheel, but I was keeping up with him somehow, without being on the Big Wheel. I guess I was flying? I did get some nice aerial views of his trip down the mountain into town, so I must have been flying, and laughing most of the way, too. When we got into the city, it was the kind of place where there was a Barnes and Noble on the corner, but there was also this tiny one-room shop full of all kinds of crap and some books that served both as a store and a kind of library. He grabbed a book and tossed it to the proprietor (a nice little old lady) and said, "Sign that out for me, would you?" I have no idea what the book was, but I thought it was cute that he could borrow a book from this tiny shop. And we went to get lunch somewhere that must have been like a food court or something, and while we were eating, he kept moving closer and closer to me - he started out across the table, but with every bite, he would scooch around the table until he ended up sitting right next to me. Which was kind of nice in and of itself. Nothing unseemly happened, it was just a nice day spent with a friend in a beautiful place.
And I woke up feeling better than I have in a really long time. Not grumpy. I'm kind of amazed at how much my dreams can affect my moods. Bad dreams can leave me in a funk all day. But this good dream has me feeling somewhat optimistic today. And I have no idea where it came from. Yes, I'm traveling next week, but not to visit a friend. The scenery came from Tucker and Dale. But the happy? No idea. I guess I should just be thankful for it and enjoy the dream time I got to spend with my friend.
Keep on dreaming, kids. It's good for you.
Wednesday, October 05, 2011
Happy Mug Is Happy
When I was in Pennsylvania for that wedding, we had breakfast one morning at a place with this very happy coffee mug (I'm going to try to post the picture, but I'm not sure if my blog is set up to do that).
Anyway, it occurred to me as I'm in the middle of a silly picture text message exchange with a friend of mine while I wait at the airport for my flight that this could be a wonderful thing to see first thing in the morning or something actually kind of horrifying.
See, on the one hand, you have your coffee telling you that you're awesome first thing in the morning. Most people could use a compliment first thing in the morning, so yay for that.
On the other hand, you are about to consume the contents of the mug, exhaust the mug's entire purpose in life, and then either leave it sitting in a sink all day or scald it with boiling water and soap before relegating it back to the dark, non-ventilated cabinet. And it is telling you, with a happy smiling face, that you are a very important person. Isn't that a rather unhealthy relationship?
Happy mug is happy. And sadistic.
Anyway, it occurred to me as I'm in the middle of a silly picture text message exchange with a friend of mine while I wait at the airport for my flight that this could be a wonderful thing to see first thing in the morning or something actually kind of horrifying.
See, on the one hand, you have your coffee telling you that you're awesome first thing in the morning. Most people could use a compliment first thing in the morning, so yay for that.
On the other hand, you are about to consume the contents of the mug, exhaust the mug's entire purpose in life, and then either leave it sitting in a sink all day or scald it with boiling water and soap before relegating it back to the dark, non-ventilated cabinet. And it is telling you, with a happy smiling face, that you are a very important person. Isn't that a rather unhealthy relationship?
Happy mug is happy. And sadistic.
Tuesday, October 04, 2011
Hotel - Part 2
When I stay by myself in a hotel, I don't necessarily think the room needs to be cleaned every day I'm there. Factor in the water savings and all of that "green" stuff, but I'm also not that messy. They might need to empty one carry out container from my trash bin and that's about it. I mean, think about it - do you change your sheets at home every day? Do you scrub your bathtub daily? So is it really necessary for them to do that in a hotel?
Anyway. I'm out here for four nights, so after the second night, I hung the "service please" thingy on my door. When I got back to my room last night, I found that they had given me a top sheet for my bed. On top of the comforter. Which, again, kind of seems to defeat the purpose. And they took my damp bath mat (damp from me showering wrong with only half of a door), folded it up, and draped it over the edge of the tub. So it was still soggy when I replaced it on the floor so I would have to stand barefoot on cold tile. Instead, I got to stand barefoot on soggy bath mat. Yay.
And one final side note - the thermostat in my room tells me that I have to put my keycard in a slot by the door to adjust the thermostat. Even when my keycard is already in the slot by the door. But it's kind of moot because in New York City, they can only provide heat or air conditioning one at a time, not both. So with the nighttime lows in the forties, they've kept the air conditioning on. Good thing they put that sheet on my comforter.
Anyway. I'm out here for four nights, so after the second night, I hung the "service please" thingy on my door. When I got back to my room last night, I found that they had given me a top sheet for my bed. On top of the comforter. Which, again, kind of seems to defeat the purpose. And they took my damp bath mat (damp from me showering wrong with only half of a door), folded it up, and draped it over the edge of the tub. So it was still soggy when I replaced it on the floor so I would have to stand barefoot on cold tile. Instead, I got to stand barefoot on soggy bath mat. Yay.
And one final side note - the thermostat in my room tells me that I have to put my keycard in a slot by the door to adjust the thermostat. Even when my keycard is already in the slot by the door. But it's kind of moot because in New York City, they can only provide heat or air conditioning one at a time, not both. So with the nighttime lows in the forties, they've kept the air conditioning on. Good thing they put that sheet on my comforter.
Monday, October 03, 2011
Hotels
I don't understand some things about hotels, and maybe it is because I don't stay in them very often and I've watched too much "Hotel Babylon," but there are some things I just don't get.
I am currently staying in a hotel in midtown Manhattan that normally charges upwards of $300 per night for it's cheap rooms. I understand the room I am in is one of the cheap rooms - no frills, basic amenities. Well, basic for midtown Manhattan. I was in another hotel in rural Pennsylvania a couple of weeks ago where a hair dryer was not a standard amenity in every room. Where I am now, it is. And it's a pretty good hair dryer, too. But mine is not the sort of room where rock stars would stay and trash the place. It's nice for the business traveller who needs a bed, a shower, and a TV before going to work in the morning.
And yet, there are no sheets on my bed. There is a fitted something over the mattress, but no top sheet. Just a comforter and blanket. It would seem to me more sanitary and easier to clean sheets than comforters, but what do I know? And there is a huge crack in my bathroom sink (and I keep seeing the shape of the crack throughout space and time...kidding). And the elevator is unreliable at best - I don't mind taking the stairs on occasion, but I'm on the seventh floor and it has almost made me late a couple of times.
But the biggest thing that baffles me about this fancy-schmancy hotel in midtown Manhattan is that it only has half of a shower door. And this is the second time I've stayed in a hotel in midtown Manhattan that only have me half of a shower door! It is literally a piece of glass that has been caulked into place that is only half the width if the shower. Which makes it awkward to turn the water on and off unless you are already in there, and it also means the bathroom floor gets soaked any time I bathe. Am I showering wrong? Are other people able to maneuver in this half-shower in such a way as to keep all of the water in the tub? Are they trying to be semi-European where they don't have shower doors or curtains at all because they bathe sitting down? Because the last hotel I stayed at with half of a shower door didn't have a tub, so sitting down wasn't really an option, or at least not an appealing one. And at this place, the shower head is mounted to the wall, so I couldn't sit down with it, so to speak. I just don't get it.
This is why I would either be an awesome hotel reviewer or a horrible one. I'm just not trendy.
I am currently staying in a hotel in midtown Manhattan that normally charges upwards of $300 per night for it's cheap rooms. I understand the room I am in is one of the cheap rooms - no frills, basic amenities. Well, basic for midtown Manhattan. I was in another hotel in rural Pennsylvania a couple of weeks ago where a hair dryer was not a standard amenity in every room. Where I am now, it is. And it's a pretty good hair dryer, too. But mine is not the sort of room where rock stars would stay and trash the place. It's nice for the business traveller who needs a bed, a shower, and a TV before going to work in the morning.
And yet, there are no sheets on my bed. There is a fitted something over the mattress, but no top sheet. Just a comforter and blanket. It would seem to me more sanitary and easier to clean sheets than comforters, but what do I know? And there is a huge crack in my bathroom sink (and I keep seeing the shape of the crack throughout space and time...kidding). And the elevator is unreliable at best - I don't mind taking the stairs on occasion, but I'm on the seventh floor and it has almost made me late a couple of times.
But the biggest thing that baffles me about this fancy-schmancy hotel in midtown Manhattan is that it only has half of a shower door. And this is the second time I've stayed in a hotel in midtown Manhattan that only have me half of a shower door! It is literally a piece of glass that has been caulked into place that is only half the width if the shower. Which makes it awkward to turn the water on and off unless you are already in there, and it also means the bathroom floor gets soaked any time I bathe. Am I showering wrong? Are other people able to maneuver in this half-shower in such a way as to keep all of the water in the tub? Are they trying to be semi-European where they don't have shower doors or curtains at all because they bathe sitting down? Because the last hotel I stayed at with half of a shower door didn't have a tub, so sitting down wasn't really an option, or at least not an appealing one. And at this place, the shower head is mounted to the wall, so I couldn't sit down with it, so to speak. I just don't get it.
This is why I would either be an awesome hotel reviewer or a horrible one. I'm just not trendy.
Saturday, October 01, 2011
Flying High
I'm blogging on a plane. In a plane, according to George Carlin, but you know what I mean. With my lovely iPhone Blogger app, I am writing a blog post while 30,000 feet in the air. Give or take. Of course, I'm going to wait until I land to publish this because even though I'm on a wi-fi plane, the wi-fi rates are ridiculous.
But seriously, when did this happen? When did our world become the sort if place where a) we can connect to the interweb from ANYWHERE and b) we feel the need to do so?
The other fun thing about this flight (well, "fun" is subjective) is that it is a 6:00am flight headed east, so we're flying into the sunrise. I do like that this is the time of year when I get to see more sunrises, but it's pretty cool to watch one from this high up. I took some pictures out the window, though I don't think they can quite capture the beauty of it.
Does anyone else sing "Movin' Right Along" from "The Muppet Movie" when you're trying to remember where the sun rises and sets? "Hey, I never saw the sun come up in the west? Movin' right along (buddy dum buddy dum)..."
Anyway. Not too much else to say from up here. It's going to be a long five days in New York at a trade show and I've been up since about 2:00am, so maybe I should try to sleep. Happy October!
But seriously, when did this happen? When did our world become the sort if place where a) we can connect to the interweb from ANYWHERE and b) we feel the need to do so?
The other fun thing about this flight (well, "fun" is subjective) is that it is a 6:00am flight headed east, so we're flying into the sunrise. I do like that this is the time of year when I get to see more sunrises, but it's pretty cool to watch one from this high up. I took some pictures out the window, though I don't think they can quite capture the beauty of it.
Does anyone else sing "Movin' Right Along" from "The Muppet Movie" when you're trying to remember where the sun rises and sets? "Hey, I never saw the sun come up in the west? Movin' right along (buddy dum buddy dum)..."
Anyway. Not too much else to say from up here. It's going to be a long five days in New York at a trade show and I've been up since about 2:00am, so maybe I should try to sleep. Happy October!
Monday, September 19, 2011
Life, Death, and Marriage
This was sort of an intense weekend that reminded me very much of the cycle of life. For very good reason.
The first event was the birth of a daughter to a friend of mine with whom I have recently sort of reconnected, thanks to the interweb. I think it's lovely that he and his wife now have a little girl in their family, in addition to their adorable twin boys. Congratulations, and welcome to the world!
The second was a wedding, between two friends of mine who might be the cutest couple I have ever met. She is certainly one of the most adorable people I have ever met, and I think the two of them have a very healthy attitude toward their relationship. They are partners in life, and are still fantastic individuals. Their wedding was gorgeous, too - on her parent's property in the northeast corner of Pennsylvania. It was very "them." It was friendly and earthy and welcoming and fun, with all sorts of people pitching in to help out in whatever ways they could. And dancing. Lots of dancing. Which killed my knees. Honestly - my knees are really hurting two days later (probably from all of the jumping), which is making me feel very old. As is the fact that for most of the wedding weekend, I was being hit on by a twenty-year-old. What is it with me an inappropriately young men I meet at weddings? Apparently, according to him anyway, I'm still hot even though I could practically be his mother. But a lot of fun was had at this wedding by a lot of people who came from all over to celebrate the love that these two share. It was gorgeous.
And the third was the passing of a dear friend of mine. She had been diagnosed with ALS in late February of this year and now, seven months later, she is no longer fighting. She was surrounded by friends and love when she passed, and we all know that wherever she is now, there's a huge party happening filled with love and laughter. Always.
I haven't really started mourning my friend yet. She was the woman you wanted in the audience at your shows because her infectious laughter would encourage everyone else to laugh, too. She was an amazingly talented designer and seamstress. She had a heart bigger than anyone I've ever met and was beloved by everyone who met her. I'm sad for all of the things she never got to do - she never married or had kids, so there are no little Vickys running around. I can't really say she never found her life partner because I think she did in some of the friendships she had. She had a beautiful family and beautiful circle of friends with her always, though it is a little sad to me that she never got to start her own family. And from a professional standpoint, she was adored by the theaters for whom she designed the costumes, but her name never got "out there," you know? And it should have because she was so talented. On a personal level, she was the one friend from my circle of college theater friends who came to my shows after graduation. Not all of them, but when she could, she came and that meant the world to me. For as thick as my heart can be sometimes, I believed her when she said she loved me, and I am forever in her debt for that. I used to dream that if I ever got married, I would ask her to make my dress. Or that if I ever went to a big award ceremony like the Oscars or something, I would ask her to design something for me so as I walked down the red carpet, I could tell people I was wearing an original Vicky Strei. I will miss her smile. I will miss her laugh. I will miss her hugs. Life dealt her a lot of shit. A LOT of shit. But she will always be known amongst her friends and family for her tag line "Love and laughter." Even when she was diagnosed with ALS, she kept smiling, she kept laughing (as best she could when she could no longer speak), and she kept loving the people around her. We should all be so lucky to be that positive, and to know someone that positive. The world needs more positive energy, and the world is a poorer place for the loss of Miss Vicky Strei. I love you always, Miss Vicky. Always.
So kind of a lot to process in one weekend, and a very immediate reminder of the circle of life and death and celebration and mourning. Life is weird. Sometimes it sucks and sometimes it is gorgeous. And I guess the best we can do is love with all our hearts and keep laughing always.
The first event was the birth of a daughter to a friend of mine with whom I have recently sort of reconnected, thanks to the interweb. I think it's lovely that he and his wife now have a little girl in their family, in addition to their adorable twin boys. Congratulations, and welcome to the world!
The second was a wedding, between two friends of mine who might be the cutest couple I have ever met. She is certainly one of the most adorable people I have ever met, and I think the two of them have a very healthy attitude toward their relationship. They are partners in life, and are still fantastic individuals. Their wedding was gorgeous, too - on her parent's property in the northeast corner of Pennsylvania. It was very "them." It was friendly and earthy and welcoming and fun, with all sorts of people pitching in to help out in whatever ways they could. And dancing. Lots of dancing. Which killed my knees. Honestly - my knees are really hurting two days later (probably from all of the jumping), which is making me feel very old. As is the fact that for most of the wedding weekend, I was being hit on by a twenty-year-old. What is it with me an inappropriately young men I meet at weddings? Apparently, according to him anyway, I'm still hot even though I could practically be his mother. But a lot of fun was had at this wedding by a lot of people who came from all over to celebrate the love that these two share. It was gorgeous.
And the third was the passing of a dear friend of mine. She had been diagnosed with ALS in late February of this year and now, seven months later, she is no longer fighting. She was surrounded by friends and love when she passed, and we all know that wherever she is now, there's a huge party happening filled with love and laughter. Always.
I haven't really started mourning my friend yet. She was the woman you wanted in the audience at your shows because her infectious laughter would encourage everyone else to laugh, too. She was an amazingly talented designer and seamstress. She had a heart bigger than anyone I've ever met and was beloved by everyone who met her. I'm sad for all of the things she never got to do - she never married or had kids, so there are no little Vickys running around. I can't really say she never found her life partner because I think she did in some of the friendships she had. She had a beautiful family and beautiful circle of friends with her always, though it is a little sad to me that she never got to start her own family. And from a professional standpoint, she was adored by the theaters for whom she designed the costumes, but her name never got "out there," you know? And it should have because she was so talented. On a personal level, she was the one friend from my circle of college theater friends who came to my shows after graduation. Not all of them, but when she could, she came and that meant the world to me. For as thick as my heart can be sometimes, I believed her when she said she loved me, and I am forever in her debt for that. I used to dream that if I ever got married, I would ask her to make my dress. Or that if I ever went to a big award ceremony like the Oscars or something, I would ask her to design something for me so as I walked down the red carpet, I could tell people I was wearing an original Vicky Strei. I will miss her smile. I will miss her laugh. I will miss her hugs. Life dealt her a lot of shit. A LOT of shit. But she will always be known amongst her friends and family for her tag line "Love and laughter." Even when she was diagnosed with ALS, she kept smiling, she kept laughing (as best she could when she could no longer speak), and she kept loving the people around her. We should all be so lucky to be that positive, and to know someone that positive. The world needs more positive energy, and the world is a poorer place for the loss of Miss Vicky Strei. I love you always, Miss Vicky. Always.
So kind of a lot to process in one weekend, and a very immediate reminder of the circle of life and death and celebration and mourning. Life is weird. Sometimes it sucks and sometimes it is gorgeous. And I guess the best we can do is love with all our hearts and keep laughing always.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
I Just Need a Little Motivation
I think y'all already know I'm a geek. I'm proud to be a geek. I like being a geek. And a geek I am. Not in the "bites heads off of chickens" way, but in the Lisa Simpson is a geek kind of a way. Geeks are cool now and I dig that.
So in a rather large "geek" moment last week, I downloaded an app to my iPhone from a radio station in the UK for the sole reason that is has an alarm clock that you can set so that David Tennant is yelling at you to wake up in the morning. I thought it might be funny to have Mr. Tennant wake me up. I wasn't sure if it was going to work, though, as often times, I sleep through my alarm and usually the horrid, horrid alarm clock buzzing sound is just about the only thing that will get me. Which is weird, because I am a terrifically light sleeper. Anyway. I didn't know if David Tennant's voice shouting, "Wake on up! Wake on up! This is David Tennant telling you to wake on up! Come on, move!" would do the trick.
It does.
It completely does.
I start to anticipate him yelling at me two or three hours before the alarm is actually set to go off.
And when it does go off, I feel guilty snoozing it and making him yell at me again ten minutes later. Which means I've actually been waking up when my alarm goes off. And not just waking up, but getting out of bed and going on about my day. I've done quick little 10-minute yoga workouts the last two mornings before work because I've had the time to do them. Crazy, that.
The sad thing is, I sort of decided that I feel guilty snoozing him because it's like I'm letting him down if I don't wake up when he tells me to. WHICH IS REALLY FRIGGIN' SAD, I know. It's a friggin' iPhone app with a recorded voice! Nobody except maybe my neighbors would know if I snoozed it and made him yell at me again. But it's true - I feel like I am letting David Tennant down if I don't wake up when he tells me to. And considering he is the sort of actor I aspire to be, and the sort of actor I would love to work with one day, I don't want to let him down. Not even his yelling, pre-recorded voice.
It then occurred to me that there are other areas in my life where maybe a little bit of this sort of guilt trip would come in handy. For example, when I start mindlessly snacking in the evening, wouldn't it be nice if I had a little alarm in David Tennant's voice to yell at me saying, "You don't need to eat that. Come on, you know better. You're just eating 'cuz you're bored! Put the snacks down and read a book!" Or when I don't feel like exercising, a little alarm in David Tennat's voice to yell at me saying, "Get up off your arse and move! It'll make you feel better, you know it will. Move your arse!" I think it would work; I honestly do. I just need someone who I look up to like that to yell at me on occasion to do the things I know I should be doing for myself anyway to keep myself on track.
Just a thought. There's money to be made here, Mr. Tennant. 'Cuz, ya know, I know you're sitting around twiddling your thumbs at the moment, wondering how you're going to make ends meet. Tee hee.
So in a rather large "geek" moment last week, I downloaded an app to my iPhone from a radio station in the UK for the sole reason that is has an alarm clock that you can set so that David Tennant is yelling at you to wake up in the morning. I thought it might be funny to have Mr. Tennant wake me up. I wasn't sure if it was going to work, though, as often times, I sleep through my alarm and usually the horrid, horrid alarm clock buzzing sound is just about the only thing that will get me. Which is weird, because I am a terrifically light sleeper. Anyway. I didn't know if David Tennant's voice shouting, "Wake on up! Wake on up! This is David Tennant telling you to wake on up! Come on, move!" would do the trick.
It does.
It completely does.
I start to anticipate him yelling at me two or three hours before the alarm is actually set to go off.
And when it does go off, I feel guilty snoozing it and making him yell at me again ten minutes later. Which means I've actually been waking up when my alarm goes off. And not just waking up, but getting out of bed and going on about my day. I've done quick little 10-minute yoga workouts the last two mornings before work because I've had the time to do them. Crazy, that.
The sad thing is, I sort of decided that I feel guilty snoozing him because it's like I'm letting him down if I don't wake up when he tells me to. WHICH IS REALLY FRIGGIN' SAD, I know. It's a friggin' iPhone app with a recorded voice! Nobody except maybe my neighbors would know if I snoozed it and made him yell at me again. But it's true - I feel like I am letting David Tennant down if I don't wake up when he tells me to. And considering he is the sort of actor I aspire to be, and the sort of actor I would love to work with one day, I don't want to let him down. Not even his yelling, pre-recorded voice.
It then occurred to me that there are other areas in my life where maybe a little bit of this sort of guilt trip would come in handy. For example, when I start mindlessly snacking in the evening, wouldn't it be nice if I had a little alarm in David Tennant's voice to yell at me saying, "You don't need to eat that. Come on, you know better. You're just eating 'cuz you're bored! Put the snacks down and read a book!" Or when I don't feel like exercising, a little alarm in David Tennat's voice to yell at me saying, "Get up off your arse and move! It'll make you feel better, you know it will. Move your arse!" I think it would work; I honestly do. I just need someone who I look up to like that to yell at me on occasion to do the things I know I should be doing for myself anyway to keep myself on track.
Just a thought. There's money to be made here, Mr. Tennant. 'Cuz, ya know, I know you're sitting around twiddling your thumbs at the moment, wondering how you're going to make ends meet. Tee hee.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
To Tweet, or Not to Tweet
To Tweet, or not to Tweet; that is the question
Whether 'tis cooler on the net to join the
Throngs and masses of shortened conversations
Or to stand strong against peer pressure
And by boycotting, maintain individuality
To join, to Tweet with them; and by a Tweet
To say we reduce the thought process to
One hundred forty characters; 'tis a limit
Strictly to be followed. To Tweet, to chat
To chat, perchance to meet - ay, there's the rub
For in that chat of Tweeting what friends may come
When we connect on the interweb
Must bring us joy; there's the conflict
That makes the sign up process such a conundrum.
Whether 'tis cooler on the net to join the
Throngs and masses of shortened conversations
Or to stand strong against peer pressure
And by boycotting, maintain individuality
To join, to Tweet with them; and by a Tweet
To say we reduce the thought process to
One hundred forty characters; 'tis a limit
Strictly to be followed. To Tweet, to chat
To chat, perchance to meet - ay, there's the rub
For in that chat of Tweeting what friends may come
When we connect on the interweb
Must bring us joy; there's the conflict
That makes the sign up process such a conundrum.
Friday, September 02, 2011
My grandmother passed away today.
In a way, it was sort of a relief - she has been suffering so much for so long, it is good that she won't have to suffer anymore. But it's always a sad day when someone you love dies.
I think she knew that I loved her. I told her as often as I could, but in her mental state, I'm not sure how much of that got in. I'm not a terribly religious person, but I did get the image today of her in a happy place, where it is light and warm and she is back to her normal self, the woman I grew up with. A smile on her face. A warm, inviting house with the radio on in the background. I picture her with my grandfather, and how happy that reunion will be. I know she believed in those things and I hope they came true for her. I'm taking comfort in the fact that they did.
I love you, Grandma. And I would like to remember you with a smile on your face, arms outstretched for a hug, with the "WARNING: These premises patrolled by an attack grandma" sign on your door. I'll miss you. But I hope you have found some peace. God knows you deserve it.
In a way, it was sort of a relief - she has been suffering so much for so long, it is good that she won't have to suffer anymore. But it's always a sad day when someone you love dies.
I think she knew that I loved her. I told her as often as I could, but in her mental state, I'm not sure how much of that got in. I'm not a terribly religious person, but I did get the image today of her in a happy place, where it is light and warm and she is back to her normal self, the woman I grew up with. A smile on her face. A warm, inviting house with the radio on in the background. I picture her with my grandfather, and how happy that reunion will be. I know she believed in those things and I hope they came true for her. I'm taking comfort in the fact that they did.
I love you, Grandma. And I would like to remember you with a smile on your face, arms outstretched for a hug, with the "WARNING: These premises patrolled by an attack grandma" sign on your door. I'll miss you. But I hope you have found some peace. God knows you deserve it.
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