Adventures with a Queen- Part 4 (Epilogue)

So for the final show we were told that Chris would be attending.  Drew had videoed most of the shows (including the queen's train wreck), but we were very glad that Chris would be able to see it in person.  All throughout the entire process we had Chris in our hearts.  We wanted the show to be good- for HIM.  Really, we were thrilled to have him there.

And it was the best show of them all.  Most of the people who prepared the food and the servers were in the audience.  It really felt like the room was filled with family.  Chris sat at the back in the queen's chair.  He thoroughly enjoyed the show and even gestured and conducted some of the songs.  It was great having him be a part of the show.  It was the perfect way to end the weekend.

So here's what I want to say about Drew and Walt.  First Walt.

Even though I wrote the dialog and directed the show, Walt was truly my partner.  He really took on half the burden and there's no way I could have done any of it without him.  He and I had so much fun together, onstage and off.  And all the craziness with the queen was really kind of fun because it was shared with Walt.  I'm so happy he's my friend.

And now, about my brother.  On the Wednesday before the show we still didn't have anyone who could run the music cues.  All we needed was someone who could sit at a table and work an iPad to advance to the next song.  We needed someone who could come to the rehearsal on Friday and do all the shows on Saturday and Sunday.  Without someone who was willing to make that commitment we didn't have a show.  I asked Drew if he could do it.

Drew came to the rehearsals on Thursday and Friday.  He helped set up lights and worked on anything else that needed to be done in the room.  He learned the ins and outs of the whole show and even gave me notes on my performance.  He gave useful suggestions wherever he saw they were needed without ever overstepping the bounds of manners or appropriateness.  Backstage he made sure everyone had a place to sit.  He set up background music for in-between the shows.  He poured tea for all of us!  And on top of all of that he's just an awesome guy to hang out with.  I'm a very lucky sister.  Thank you, Drew.

Man, this was quite an experience.  Lots of lessons learned!  Mainly about ownership.  Personal ownership of a role or a commitment.  Drew has it.  Walt has it.  So does Terry, the guy who was the chairman of the church committee for the Dickens Faire.  And his wife, Sue, and all the others at the church who worked so hard to put this on.  It was a pretty cool thing to be a part of.  Even the hapless lady-in-waiting who walked on crutches and rode around in a scooter making sure the queen was taken care of even though the queen couldn't be bothered with communicating with her about the whereabouts of that stupid script.  Maybe it's because her dress wasn't pretty enough.

Get well, Chris!  I don't want to do this again!

Adventures with a Queen- Part 3

It was time for Walt's solo.  This is a sweet, sentimental song that tells the story of a man whose son is away at sea.  Walt's speech beforehand is warm and thoughtful and relate's to the queen's own son who is also serving in the royal navy and who is also at sea.  It's a beautiful song and a nice opportunity for Mr. Bumblepitch to interact with the queen.  And then there are a few lines afterward.

When the song ended I was backstage listening for the queen's line.  Nothing.  NOTHING!!!  I stepped out onstage and said the lines so poor Walt wouldn't be left hanging.

And then the queen said, "Well friends, it is time for us to depart your company."

No, no, NO!!!  She skipped two songs!!!!!  She said her last speech and then they all stood up and WALKED OUT!!!!  I said, "Um, everyone please rise..." and the audience stood as queen and company left the room.  I whispered to Walt and Bethie that we would do the songs she skipped and finish the show.  When everyone sat down I said to Drew (my darling brother who was running the music cues.  More about him later), "Please Mr. Lang, we will do Rutherford Rhodes." just to make sure he didn't skip ahead to the end.  We did the last two songs plus another song at the end where we all gush about the friggin' queen.  We improvised the Felicity/Maisie-gets-exposed-but-it-all-ends-well part and finished the show.

Afterward, Drew came backstage and handed me the queen's script.  She had left the script behind even though we had another queen show on Sunday!  My head went KABOOM.  Again, we were all agape.  And it wasn't just us actors.  Everyone at the church who was involved with the show were also astonished and more than a little miffed.

I decided to take the script back to the Mission Inn and leave it at the desk.  I sat down and wrote her a note (Drew is telling me to stay calm) and stapled it to the front of the script.  I basically told her that she had skipped two songs and that it was important for her to take some time and PRACTICE her lines so we could have a great show on Sunday.  Then I took it to the Mission Inn.

Janet was in the lobby.  I tore the note off and approached her and handed her the script.  I was calm and friendly (really, I was!).  I let her know how important it was that she practice her lines and that she had skipped those songs.  She was apologetic, and it really wouldn't have been appropriate for me to rip off her wig right there in the hotel lobby so I left it at that.

Sunday!  That morning I redid the queen's script.  I removed the pre-show page and any other stage directions and put the song titles in bold print and colored them red.  That way she should be able to find her place both by looking at her own bold, blue lines and the red, bold, song titles.  I put the pages into plastic sheet protectors and put everything into a three ring binder.  I don't see how I could have made it any more idiot proof.  I headed off to the church.

We did a Jeffrey show, which went very well.  Drew and I decided to take a stroll and check out the rest of the Dickens Faire.  Right outside the church was our familiar lady-in-waiting.  She said, "The queen didn't get her script after the show."  I told her that we found her script and it has already been placed in Janet's hands.  I also told her that I had redone the script and that it would be placed on the table in front of her.  Once again the L-I-W said, "I will convey that message to Her Majesty."  I said, "Her name is Janet, you know.  She's not really the queen."  Really, I'd had it up to here with all this queen bullshit.  The L-I-W said, "I know.  I like to stay in character."  But you could see she thought it was a little silly.  Before we left, Drew dashed back in and took the script off the table and hid it.  He thought that just maybe the L-I-W would try to nab it.  I think he was probably right.

The entourage showed up a little early and the queen and I went through the script again.  She appreciated the simplified and straight-forward script.  Also, we had replaced the problem chairs with plain, wooden ones from the sanctuary.  I also told her that whatever Dick says in his announcement, they need to arrange themselves so the queen ends up in the middle.  And I told her that when the room is full of people, they soak up a lot of sound so she needs to speak loudly in order to be heard.

She said, "Sitting at the end of the table I was too far away from the microphone."

There was no microphone.

So, the show began, they all went in in the correct order and the queen said the correct opening line.  So guess who flubbed a line?  ME!

And the queen shot me a look that was laden with daggers and ice picks.  Seriously, bitch?  Well, now you know how we felt.

The rest of the show went as it should.   We had one more Jeffrey show after that.  More in Part 4.

Adventures with a Queen- Part 2

The show was going along pretty well, considering.  We added as many rehearsals as we could.  Walt and I visited Chris in the hospital and shared what I had of the script so far.  He laughed as I read it and said it sounded like something he would have written.  That's what I wanted to hear.  As I was writing it, I really had his voice in my head.  Walt and I were happy and relieved after our visit with him.  The path was clear and we were confident about how to proceed.  A few days later, Chris left the hospital and is now recuperating at home.

I had the completed script and now I needed to get a copy to the woman who plays the queen for the Faire every year.  The email address I had for her was an old one so I wasn't getting any replies.  Also, for some reason my Word files weren't sending correctly, so when I sent the script to people it came through in pieces.  I eventually got the "queen's" phone number.  I texted her and said I'd like to deliver a printed copy to her so she could have some time to practice.  This was the Monday before the show.  No reply.  More texts were sent.  I told her I really wanted to meet with her and go over the lines because this year things were different.  No reply.

(About the queen's script-  I had gone through the whole thing and made her lines in bold print and colored dark blue so she could easily see which lines were hers.  I also included the page with the pre-show stuff so she would better understand the whole story line.)

Wednesday evening she finally wrote back.  She asked me to deliver the script to some woman named Antonia.  I told her I didn't know Antonia and that my only affiliation with the church is through the Queen's Tea show.  Then she asked me if I was staying at the Mission Inn (?).  Um, no.  That was when I figured out that she doesn't live in Riverside.  Then she said (all texting here) she would be at the Mission Inn on Friday at lunch time and we could meet then.  She asked me to leave a copy at the front desk.  Ok, Friday is cutting it a little close, but all I need to do is go through it with her.  She didn't need to memorize anything, but I wanted her to be familiar with the story line.  I was planning to be at the church all day to decorate the room.  I could leave at any time and pop over to the Mission Inn, which is only a block away.

On Friday morning I left a copy of the script at the front desk with her name and phone number on it. Lunch time came and went with no text, no phone call from Janet, the queen.  So I called her.  I asked her if she got the script.  She said no.

No???

I said, "I left it for you at the front desk."

She said, "They didn't give it to me when I checked in."

Ever get the feeling that things are about to go terribly wrong?

She said she was having lunch with friends and that when she was done she'd go to her room and call me and we'd go over the script on the phone.  Ok.  So we did that.  She liked the story line.  She thought it was cute.  Oh, such fun.

Saturday morning!  We had two Jeffrey shows, 11:00 and 2:30.  After the first show, one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting (Yeah, she has an entourage.  For real) found me and told me that the queen has lost her script and do we have a spare one I could give her.  WTF???  Lost her script?  No, I don't have a spare!  After a short but circular conversation the L-I-W said that the script wasn't lost, but it was locked in the queen's hotel room.  Again, WTF???  I told her the queen's show wasn't until 4:00 and that there was plenty of time for someone to get into that room and get the script.  Oh, and by the way, the queen has more than the agreed upon number of people in her entourage.  We told the L-I-W the queen can have five people total, including herself.  The L-I-W said, "I will convey that message to Her Majesty."

WTF????

So, at about 3:30 the whole entourage shows up.  Queen Janet made a bee-line for the bathroom.     The L-I-W I had spoken with earlier pulled me aside and told me the queen needed to leave the show early because she had to go to the closing ceremonies.  I told her no, the queen CAN'T leave early because she's part of the show.  She has lines!  She's in the freakin' show!  I asked the rest of the entourage if the queen had found her script.  Blank stares all around.  When Janet finally came in I asked her if she had her script.  She and the others started rummaging around in their tote bags.  Then she grabbed a script that was laying on a table and started leafing through it.  I said, ok, fine.  We'll just high-light her lines and use that shitty, dog-eared script.  Then someone found the queen's script.  It had been folded in quarters and jammed down into the bag.  Oh my god.

She and I sat down and we went through the script together.  She seemed to understand it all.  Oh lordy.

(Here's some more goofy shit that happened-  We had her long table set up in the back of the room.  There were some pretty Victorian-looking chairs set up for them.  One of the chairs had arms, which wouldn't work well for the ladies because of the hoop skirts, but would be just fine for Prince Albert.  We had them arranged so the women wouldn't have to deal with the weird chair.  Usually, the queen's entourage traveled with a Beefeater dude who would come in and announce them.  This year there was no Beefeater, so one of the guys from the church (name's Dick) said he'd announce them.  I didn't want him to mess around with everyone's name, so we said just introduce the queen, the prince and Princess Alice.  So he did just that.  And then the queen, prince, princess and the rest of the entourage very obediently trundled in in that order, completely getting themselves tangled in the chair with arms and ending up with the queen sitting all the way at the end of the table, instead of in the middle like she was supposed to.)

So then it was time to start my interaction with the queen.  I said my first line.

"Your Majesty, we humbly welcome you and thank you for once again gracing us with your patronage."

And she said, "You're welcome."

AAAIIEEEE!!!!!!  That's not the line!  She couldn't find her line!  She was on the wrong page!

So, I just jumped in and basically said all her lines and got the show started.  Then we left the queen's table and went back stage.  Walt, Bethie and I just GAPED at each other!  We couldn't believe what had just happened.  Oh my god.

By the time we ended the first song she was on the right page and the show ran smoothly.

Until...

(See part 3)

Adventures with a Queen- Part 1

This weekend was the Riverside Dickens Faire.  For the last several years now I've been involved with the Queen's Tea show at First Congregational Church.  Yeah, me, doing a show at a church.  Hey, it's a cool church.

They put out a very nice meal with tea and a music hall show.  There are fresh-baked scones, finger sandwiches, pastries, fruit, and chocolates, lemon curd, jam and clotted cream.  It's really quite good.

The music hall show is written and directed by a dear man named Chris.  Over the years there have been many different people involved with the show, but usually the cast will consist of three or four people.  This year it was to be Chris, me, a guy named Walt and a girl named Bethie.  Walt had done the show twice before.  He's not an experienced actor, but he's got a lot of enthusiasm and he's very pleasant to be around.  This was Bethie's first time with the show.  She's sixteen years old and has an amazing and mature singing voice.  Everything started off in the usual way, but very quickly the show got into trouble.  Chris became very ill with a nasty mix of ailments, with pneumonia leading the pack.

At first there was very little communication with Chris' family.  Walt and I were reluctant to pester them with our issues about the show, but we really needed to know how to proceed.  Eventually we found out that Chris was in bad shape.  I also found out that the Dickens committee at the church had had a meeting where it was announced that two hundred tickets had already been sold, and that Donita could dive in and take over (and no, Donita wasn't at this meeting but heard about it the next day from Walt).  So, ok, here we go.

Mr. Walt basically leapt into action with emails and texts, while I privately bitched and whined about not wanting to do what I knew I would end up doing.  Whatever Chris had planned for the show had to be rewritten without him.  We had the recorded piano parts from last year on a cd, and the story idea he had come up with for this year.  Walt hunted down the missing sheet music and converted the piano music to an mp3.  I began to write dialog.  Two scripts were needed; one for the show that included Queen Victoria, and one for the non-queen shows.  Both scripts had to tell basically the same story

So here it is-

Mr. Treacle (Chris) took on a protege for the show this year.  She's a young, high-born girl who just wants to act upon the stage.  Since she's an aristocrat, this activity is forbidden to her.  Her real name is Felicity Farthingale, but she's calling herself Maisie Duckett.  Dame Hermione Fabersham (me) has been with Mr. Treacle's show for years and is very suspicious of this new girl.  Mr. Broderick Bumblepitch (Walt) is a wealthy benefactor of the music hall who just loves to perform, and is completely smitten with Dame Hermione.

The show is ready to begin but Mr. Treacle is nowhere to be seen.  Dame Hermione receives a note, flies into a panic and shares the news with Maisie and Broderick.  Mr. Treacle has had an unfortunate encounter with a carriage horse which resulted in him receiving a well-placed kick upon his bum.  The poor man cannot perform and the rest of the cast must make some hasty changes to the show before the queen shows up.  When the queen arrives, Hermione introduces the cast to her.  She recognizes Felicity/Maisie, but doesn't expose her just yet.  Hermione's suspicion goes into high gear and Maisie gets verrry nervous.

As the show progresses, the queen from time to time plays a bit of cat-and-mouse with Maisie.  The dialog links a total of nine songs together.  At the end of the show Maisie is exposed as the daughter of a lord, Hermione is furious, Broderick convinces her that Maisie's father may send his patronage their way when he hears of the enjoyable and diverting afternoon the queen spent in their music hall, and all's well that end's well.  Huzzah.

For the non-queen show we had Felicity's cousin Jeffrey (played by a guy named Jeff) show up in the audience.  When Hermione and Broderick leave the room, he pounces on Felicity/Maisie and threatens to tell her father about the whole thing.  Felicity/Maisie begs him to let her perform just this once.  Jeffrey (a bit of a cad) agrees to not tell her father, but lets her know he expects her to return the favor one day.  The show goes on and in the end Felicity/Maisie is exposed and so on and so forth.  Huzzah.

And so we commenced to rehearsin'.   We had three weeks to pull it together.

Hello 2014. Whatcha got?

Feeling meh.  Life in general is pretty great, but there are some important pieces missing.  Mainly, a job.  Income.  Something to do, someplace to go every day.  Cash flow.  If I had that, pretty much everything else would take care of itself.

I know I say I'm doing fine, but a lot of the time I'm not.  Not fine, not ok.  This isn't a comfortable place for me.  I know there are a lot of people in this world who are never happy, even when things are going well.  I'm not like that.  I'm a naturally happy person.  Happy is my default setting.  I can be happy when everything is complete shit.  I relied heavily on this natural tendency when I was going through all that stuff some years ago.  Even as a grieving widow who was caring for a crazy Alzheimer's dad, I was pretty perky.

But damn it, being unemployed is fucking depressing and this is my second stint.  The last time I was unemployed for a year and a half.  This time, it's almost been a year.  It was a huge mistake taking that stupid job at the water department, but even if I had stayed where I was I would have been out of a job in a few months anyway.  My old boss was caught stealing from the company and that whole office was shut down.  Awesome.

Depression is spiritually and psychically immobilizing.  Since leaving the job from hell last March I have done some productive things, which were wonderfully diverting, but all that means is I got some work done and did some fun stuff while the money drained away.  All that time I've been in the same situation I'm in now.  I get up every morning, do some shit, and then go to bed at night.  I can't keep doing this.

So I have to do something to make it all better while the tedious task of searching for a job continues.  There are some big events looming ahead (I shouldn't put it like that.  It's all going to be fun) and there is a lot that needs to get done before then.  I need to plow through the fog and get it on.  Rock and roll, goddammit!

A new set of mantras would help.  "Right foot, left foot, repeat" is a good one and it's gotten me through a lot.  So, let's see...

- Make sure you do at least one thing every day that will move things forward.  More than one thing if you can manage it.
- Putter.  There is power in a good putter.
- More out than in.  This has been an important one in the past.  Start using it again.  This means I have to get rid of more stuff and bring in less.  Sell, sell, sell!
- Move your ass!  Keep exercising.  This also means sticking to the diet (10 pounds lost so far).
- More art, more music, more comedy.  Especially more comedy.
- More people.  I tend to let myself get isolated.  I don't like that.

I guess that'll do for a start.  Just keep going.  Force myself to keep going.  It does feel good to be productive and this stupid job situation won't last forever.  I'm broadening the search.  You may see me in an orange vest flipping that sign that says STOP and SLOW.  I might be your barista.  Something will come along.

By the way, this is NOT a cry for help.  I don't need anyone to get all concerned and try to fix anything.  I appreciate the job alerts, (thanks for those) but no one needs to do anything for me.  I'm glad I have so many great friends.  We'll keep doing what we do.

A little rant...

This might piss some people off just a bit, but it kind of drives me crazy so, whatever, get pissed if you want to.

I've been doing comedy for two years now. I've been a performer for most of my life, but only two years as a comedian. I'm not the world's expert on anything but I'm pretty sure I'm right about this. I have a complaint about some comedians.

Audiences can be iffy. We all love it when we have a big room chock full of people who came to laugh. It's a great big, ego-feeding, energizing, tit-sucking RUSH. Seriously, it's just the best, and I love it as much as anyone. But we all have also experienced that small, shy, had-a-bad-day, ho-hum collection of barely conscious strangers who, although they've paid their money to see some comedy, will still sit there like they've been beaten and dragged to traffic school. The tough crowd.

But not all of them will be like that. Most of them do laugh at least some of the time. And even if they're not in an hysterical panic, they're probably having a good time. So why is it that so many comics are completely undone by this kind of room? For some reason they don't hear the laughter that is coming their way in a wimpy but steady stream, but instead will fixate on that one stone-faced guy in the middle of the room. Last night I was at a show that had this kind of audience. It was an undersold show that, in my opinion, was way overbooked with comedians. They could have cut the line-up in half and it probably would have been a better show. And here's where I could get into some trouble. I thought most of the material kind of sucked. But I have seen audiences that just about wet themselves laughing at that stuff, so you can't really judge a show by that.

The thing that drives me nuts is, I really, really hate it when a comic gets up there, gets a few polite giggles and then blames the audience for not falling out of their chairs. Last night many people WERE laughing, but almost every one of those comics were thrown by the modest chuckle level and they commented on it. None of them overtly turned on the audience, but the comics' own discomfort was noticeable enough to dampen the room even more than it already was. You could just feel it.

Some comics will completely bail on their own act. One night at a different club, a young female comic wasn't quite feeling the love so she just walked around the stage making comments about what was up there; the floor, the back drop, the mike stand. Then she picked up a menu and started reading it and saying how stupid she thought it was. That's the worst example, but I've seen stuff that was close to being that bad.

Audiences can be squirrely. Smaller audiences can be harder to fluff up. But I've had 13 people in a room that all laughed their asses off. I've also seen 60 people just sit there. Sometimes there's nothing you can do to make them laugh but the totally fucking WRONG thing to do is blame THEM. Jeez, I've only been doing this for 2 years. Almost everyone in the comedy world has been at it waaaay longer than I have. Haven't they figured it out by now that there's a certain audience dynamic you just can't control? And so what? You still have to be professional and do your job. Being able to get up on a stage as a professional entertainer is a privilege, and there are thousands who would love to do it, who work hard at being good at it and might not ever get the opportunity. The people who paid their money are there to be entertained. They're NOT there to stroke your broken ego. And if they aren't laughing you still have to perform as if they are! The audience isn't there because they love you. You are there because you love them. At least you should.

Hollywood Types

Last night I performed at a bar show in Sherman Oaks. It's called The Cork Lounge and the show they have on Wednesday nights is becoming more and more popular. Nice atmosphere in that place, and I'm glad to be a part of it.

When I got there I settled into one of the booths. A couple sat at the table next to mine. He was about my age, maybe younger, hair slicked back, glasses with darkish shades and wearing a nice suit. His girlfriend was a typical trophy girlfriend, blonde and boobylicious. When I did my set I checked out everyone in the room to see how my act was going over. Lots of people laughing, some not paying attention at all, the usual bar audience. Mr. Hollywood was sitting there with his arm around the girlfriend. She was laughing, he was just smiling an nodding. Every joke punch line, every song laugh line brought a smile and a nod, smile and nod, smile and nod. So, ok, he's enjoying it.

As I was packing up at the end of the show, he rose and shook my hand. "I really enjoyed what you did up there. Your songs are very funny." I said, "Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for coming." He said, "Have you done any movies? Has Hollywood come calling?" I said, "Oh no, not yet. I haven't been at this for very long. I would really love it, though." He said, "Well, I think a lot of people would love it. I think a lot of people would really enjoy what you do."

At this point I'm really wondering where this is leading.

I said, "Aw, thanks. I appreciate you saying that." Then he said, "Yeah, I think you could be the female Adam Sandler!"

I punched that motherfucker in the face.

And then I gave him my card.

Well that was one goofy-ass dream...

I was working in an office. I was told to fetch a file on one of our clients. His counselor was P.J. Walsh (a pretty brilliant comic everyone should see). He needed a form that was in the file. As I looked through it, it started to grow and get more complicated, which happens a lot in my dreams. A simple task becomes ridiculous and causes me to veer from the focus of the dream, which is usually way more fun than the task. This time the file became overly stuffed and included a box of old stuffed animals. I decided I could get that form online and left the file on the table. I went own the hall to find my boss's assistant. I went into my boss's (Barbra Streisand) office and found her on the phone, yelling angrily at someone. I retreated and shut the door. At the end of the hall was a storage closet. I knew the assistant was going to be in there. People were coming and going in and out of that room. They were busy setting it up so some dirty hillbillies could live there a while. I stood at the door for a second and decided I was in the way should step away and wait for the assistant to come out. A woman came out to talk to me with two of the hillbilly children. She said, "You can't disrespect these people like that. Looking at them is disrespectful." I guessed she was some kind of dirty hillbilly social worker. The two children said, "Yeah, you can't do that! You're stupid!" I knew it was useless to try to defend myself so I turned and walked away. I decided I'd go to the grocery store (also in the building) and get myself some lunch. The store was being remodeled and workers were restocking the low, open freezers. I wanted a chicken pot pie for lunch, but all they had was cartons of ice cream. I sat down at the lunch counter, which was really a row of freezers with a counter top, and waited for them to find the chicken pot pies. I felt a pair of arms encircle me from behind and a soft voice whispered in my ear. I knew that voice belonged to my dearest love, Michael Cera. We left the grocery store and went to the apartment we shared on the ground floor of that same building. I puttered around for a while. I looked up and saw that Michael Cera was driving away in a golf cart. The body of the golf cart was made of wicker (pretty cool, I thought). When he came back the cart was loaded with members of my family (none of them were my real family). As they got out of the cart they started arguing and accusing each other of several different crimes. They were yelling at each other and saying they all needed to behave because they were visiting me. I frowned at Michael Cera and he looked at me with a helpless expression. I knew then that he'd only wanted to surprise me with a visit from my loving family. --------------------------------------- I think I'm reading too much Game of Thrones.

Katherine Hepburn, Arya Stark

It's been ten years since Jim lost his job and we moved back to Riverside. It's been twelve years since I last had what I considered to be a stable life. Jim had his career, we had our two girls, many wonderful friends, and the first house that was our own. Then things started going south at Hewlett Packard. The founders were no longer in charge, and it was decided that HP would be split into two separate companies. Jim was so disturbed by this. The company hired consultants who instated policies Mr. Hewlett and Mr. Packard never would have tolerated. Employees who didn't adjust were considered to be a liability, and grumbling about the coming changes could get you put on the fast track to getting laid off. Jim took all of this personally and became very depressed. Watching all this happen was like seeing a train wreck in slow motion, and eventually he was laid off along with hundreds of others at the Santa Rosa division, many of them our good friends. -------------------------------------------------- Most of you know the story from there. We moved back to Riverside and settled in at the farm. Soon after, Dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer's and Jim and I became his main caregivers. Jim grieved over losing his job. It wasn't just a job. The culture at HP had been something he really loved. The company had the reputation of being very good to their employees. Holiday parties and picnics, perks and bonuses were the norm. Just about every friend we had was connected with HP, and most of them were musicians. The good times rolled. And when it was gone, my husband couldn't deal with it. The sadness lasted until the day he died. ---------------------------------- My girls and I had to build a new life. My daughters dove into the big adventure of building this new life because that's what young people do. Young people can fly without a net. Not so easy for me. When I was younger I worked mostly in dead-end retail jobs. When we had our kids I was a stay-at-home mom (thanks to that great HP job of Jim's). I went to junior college and dabbled in the fun stuff, but didn't take classes to develop any useful or marketable skills. So now here I am, a middle-aged widow who needs to find a way to support herself. It all looked pretty bleak, but because I had the good fortune of being part of a family that is completely awesome on several levels, I was able to get a good (although low-paying) job that gave me the opportunity to learn some skills, and to modify and apply my many nature-given talents. Things were looking up. Sort of. ----------------------------------- Still, I had no real stability. Hell, I still don't! The last twelve years have pounded me from all directions. Many, MANY great things have happened in that time, and I'm grateful for the mind-blowing opportunities that have plopped into my lap, but I haven't ever been able to get back that feeling of security and stability that was such a big part of my former life. I have taken all the blows and kept going, but I haven't been entirely ok. Lots of fear going on here. Depression, inertia, grief, anger, more fear, fuck-it-who-cares, failure and fatigue are all there just below the surface. I could lose everything. My inner Sarah Palin screams, "You're too old, too fat, too stupid, too whatever to succeed!" But I'm trying. I really am. That little motto at the top of this blog: Right foot, left foot, repeat. That sucker has gotten me through some rough times. --------------------------------- The last time we went to the river I bought one of those commemorative Life magazine issues to read under the easy-up. It's about Katherine Hepburn 10 years after her death. I've always loved her. The Philadelphia Story is my favorite movie. The dialog is loaded with the snappy, witty repartee typical of movies of that era. I totally dig that shit. And hell, I just love her. But in her live interviews there always seemed to be a certain amount of bullshit. I never really bought the real Katherine Hepburn. She always seemed to be just a little too much in love with herself. But there were some photos in this special Life issue that smacked me. One is of 80-something Hepburn in a bathing suit, running with a towel after swimming in an icy lake. Snow is on the ground. Another photo shows her at about the same age playing tennis. So, ok. Maybe she had to be in love with herself to accomplish what she did in her own era. She had endless energy and drive, style and beauty, and she died at age 96. That's not bullshit. She didn't mope and whine about life's hard knocks. I'm not even sure she noticed them. --------------------------------- Ok, on to Arya Stark. I came to Game of Thrones a bit late. I tuned in for the last third of season two and I've seen all of season three. I'm entertained, but I don't know who the hell anyone is or how they got there. I decided I'd read all the books before the next season starts so I can catch up. Damn, I'm loving these stories! I plowed through the first book in about three days. I decided to slow down a bit for the second one. I found myself going through my day in Game of Thrones mode, which might not be appropriate for 2013 real life in America (Do NOT impede my progress for I am bound for the check-out line! STAND ASIDE!). The character I love the most is Arya Stark. Holy crap. There have been a few times where she has shed some tears, but mostly she just gets it ON. Sneak, run, stab, survive, outsmart, hide, fight, stab some more, lie, run, run, run, sneak, stab... Dayum, girl! Does she boo-hoo because she misses the comfort of stability? NO! She's plotting who she's going to kill next! God, I love her. ------------------------------------- All this has been swirling in my head. And it's making me happy! I don't know what the future will bring. Some stuff is in the works but it's not a done deal. I'm no more stable than I was six, ten, twelve years ago. I could still lose it all. I might be completely deluded, but I feel pretty fucking good these days. I've been eating low carb, which reeeally helps. I'm finally getting some meaningful work done on my house. Lots of good stuff on the horizon, performing-wise. All that adds up for sure. But keeping Hepburn and Stark with me as I go through my day helps me feel empowered (and that's CRAZY!). Today I went to Costco. When I went to my car I couldn't find my keys. I went through every pocket in my purse but no luck. I was just about to look through the window to see if I had locked them in the car when I saw them at the bottom of my shopping cart, dangling, ready to drop and be lost forever. I laughed at myself. "Woman, you'd die in the wild." As I'm loading the car and laughing, "You're no Arya Stark." As I shut the back hatch, "You're more like that shit-for-brains Sansa."

It's too fucking bad, isn't it?

The news has been crazy lately. Two bombs exploded at the Boston Marathon, taking three lives and blasting the legs off of several innocent bystanders. The suspects were quickly identified, and an aggressive but well-executed manhunt ensued. The city was almost completely shut down as people sheltered in their homes. The response of law enforcement was massive and it didn't take long for them to find the two suspects. One was killed in a shoot-out and the other was apprehended, alive but with serious wounds. ____________________________________________________ There's so much sadness woven throughout this story. We've been seeing photos of those killed in the explosion, as well as the campus police officer that was killed later that night. We've seen photos of the other victims in their hospital beds surrounded by family and friends and (really?) Bradley Cooper (as if we all needed one more reason to adore him, which I do). We've also been hearing the stories about the heroes, and the helpers, and the sheer awesomeness of the cop who brought milk to a family who couldn't leave their home. All these stories are quite amazing and you can almost hear the frantic phone conversations of studio heads scrambling to secure the movie rights. _______________________________ But I'm also struck by the sadness of the story of the nineteen-year-old bomber who survived. Don't get me wrong. Hear me out. When the first photos and the security video were released showing the two brothers walking through the crowd, I felt immediately that the younger man, the one following a few paces behind, the one with the satisfied smile, wasn't like the older one leading the way. Even in those grainy pictures it seemed to me that this was the smile of a young guy who was just happy to be included in the plans of the older guy. I really felt that whatever the older guy's motives were for carrying out this horrific act, the younger guy didn't share them. Not entirely, anyway. __________________________ Once they were identified and the people who knew them began to share their stories, the picture started to become more complete (For me, anyway. All this is just my own idea about the thing). We heard that the younger brother was just a regular kid. His father described him as an angel. His former teacher said that he idolized his older brother and followed him around like a puppy. We've seen photos of a very attractive but serious young man with cold eyes. I wonder about that a little. I'll bet there are plenty of photos of him laughing with his buddies. We won't see those because it's important not to humanize him. He must continue to be portrayed as a monster. The media is doing its job. ___________________________________________ So here's a kid who looked up to his big brother. It's too bad that no one helped him to stand on his own. Big brother got involved with some jihadist group, for whatever reason, and the little brother was easily sucked in. Big brother didn't give a shit about the people that were killed and maimed, but he also didn't give a shit about his younger brother. Did he care at all what might happen to him? Oh well.______________________________________ So hey there, little brother. You went along because your big brother was everything in your eyes. You killed and maimed, and stabbed an entire country in the heart because you never learned to listen to your own. Your brother fucked you and now he's dead and you're laying in a hospital bed alone. The doctors will heal your wounds and you will get to live, alone, until you are placed in a cold room, alone, with a needle in your arm, where you will die, alone, with others watching.

Stuff

Boy, I have certainly gotten out of the habit. I really should (said it before, I know) get back into it. This blog has saved my sanity in the past, and now I'm in another crappy life phase. Blog, bitch, blog! ******************* So, once again I'm unemployed. This time around I don't have health insurance. Great. So, I need to cultivate those healthy habits. I'm walking more. Today I took my bike in to get fixed. On Fridays I walk with Jeff. Last Friday I went to our meeting place and waited for him in my car. I saw an attractive young woman jog up. She had probably the most perfect body I've ever seen. She was curvy, but trim. Her arms were toned and she was very well-proportioned. I said to myself, "Well, good for you honey. Congratulations. You've won the genetic lottery but you're also doing a great job of keeping yourself in shape. Good for you." When she jogged by I watched her in the rearview mirror. She got into her car, which was parked right behind me. I hadn't noticed it before. A brand new, white Mercedes. Then I was all, "Oh fuck you. Fuck you and your perfect body and your white Mercedes." *********************** I just couldn't support that. *************************** On Saturday I'm going to Flappers in Burbank to sit in on a Comedy Traffic School class. I'll be in training. We'll see how it goes. I do think it'll be a good fit, and I'll bet it'll be a good way to develop my audience skills. I really admire comics who can interact with an audience and do it well. And hey, teaching Comedy Traffic School will be something I can do on the side and make a little money. *********************** Last Sunday I went to open mike at Flappers Claremont. A comedian's open mike is an interesting thing. It's not at all like a musician's open mike. It's mostly comics who are trying out new material, which means almost everyone bombs. Even comics who are otherwise pretty good. But it's ok. It's really a pretty forgiving and supportive environment. Still, you'd better not go in there expecting a lot of laughs. It's not an ego feed. ************************* That's about it for now.

Nope.

Still no paragraph breaks. Blogger, you continue to suck.

Testing, testing

I've been having problems with Blogger lately. A kind blogger sent me this link. Let's see if I can make paragraph breaks. Like this one. Or this one.

Wow, soooo much better!

Hooray! A good show tonight! And a personal best for me, I think. A shift has occurred. Tonight I felt more comfortable than I ever have hosting a show. It felt easy and natural. And what a great audience! Another full house, which is always good, but this group was there to laugh. Stacey, Audra, and Scotty's sister, Tanya, came tonight. I'm so glad they got a good show. I'm really happy right now. _________________________________________________________________________ The icky girls from last night were replaced by a cute, funny, HAWT dude named Brady Matthews. Google him and check out his photos. Day-um. Anyway, he was really good, and Melissa Villasenor did a very nice job as well. At the end of the show when I was doing the raffle, Rick came out and made the stretch-it-out sign at me. Again, since it was a big audience the checks were slow to arrive and it was taking some time to process everything. I slowed down the raffle as much as I could, and then when it was over I went into the audience and chatted with the people who were still waiting for their checks. That worked pretty well. No one got surly, and they seemed to enjoy talking to me. I'm going to do that from now on. ____________________________________________________________ Rick was happy with my performance. He said, "Have you noticed we're booking you more often now? There's a reason for that." Awww. During the show Stacey came to the back and sat with me a while. That was so cool. I enjoyed sitting with my sis having a nice, quiet little chat about the show. It really was a special night. ________________________________________________________________ The 10:00 show was a bit difficult, but it always is. Just a bit. We had maybe 8 people. I did my best to give them the same kind of show a big audience would get. They were a nice, polite audience. At the end I didn't bother to use the microphone during the raffle. What's the point? They were just right there. __________________________________________________________________ It's been almost a year since I first started doing this. Last year, on August 8th we all went to see Bobcat Goldthwait at Flappers Burbank, and Tracey and I went into the bar before the show to use the restroom. That's when Deven invited me up to the stage to sing a few songs. Then, on September 2nd I stepped onstage at Flappers Claremont. What an amazing year it has been. _______________________________________________________________ So happy.

Last night

(Again, no paragraph breaks. This blog is broken)__________________________________ Oh man, it bothers me when an audience pays to get in and then they get a shitty show. Well, not the whole show..._______________________________________ The 8:00 was mostly pretty good. Melissa Villasenor is the headliner this weekend, and she's very funny. She was a semi-finalist on America's Got Talent, which helps to make her a big draw for the club. The featured comic was Esther Povitsky, and the guest comic was this friend of theirs who, I don't know, maybe got to perform because they asked if she could. She is an experienced comic, but I've learned that that doesn't always mean something._______________________________________ We met in the green room before the show. Melissa had also brought her sister along. I introduced myself and we chatted for a bit, but it was clear that I was the old woman in the room who was putting a damper on things. I asked them how they'd like to be introduced. Esther said, "Oh, I don't know. Just say anything." I told her I'm just not experienced enough to do that. I need something to go on. she said she'd think about it. Then I asked their friend how she'd like to be introduced. She said her name was Amy. Amy Cheapho, spelled C-H-E-A-P-H-O. It's Croatian. I kind of said, "Wha? What?" She said, "Yes, it's Cheapho. It's Croatian." Um, ok. I said (jovially), "Are you fucking with me, Amy?" She acted quite taken aback and offended, and I was instantly sorry I had put that out there. I tried to save it by asking her if the "ph" was pronounced as an eff, or if it was just Cheap-ho. Oh gawd.____________________________________________________ She said, "You can say I've appeared all around L.A. and I'm a big hit at my mom's Al-Anon meetings." Ok...heh, heh. Esther still couldn't think of anything to say so I decided I'd just say something about how cute she is. And she is cute. Cute as a button. Cute as a bug's ear. Just a teeny little thing. I can do something with that._______________________________________________ I left the green room so I could give them time to roll their eyes at each other and talk about what a clueless bitch I am. Something like that. Anyway, I didn't want to hang around with them any longer. Soon it was time for the show to start.__________________________________________________ The place was packed. A total full house, and the audience was lively. I had only 10 minutes so I zoomed through my set (Middle-aged Woman, Voodoo Doll, Phone Sex) and then introduced Amy. Oh my god. Am I that old and out of touch? Am I too unhip to appreciate that kind of raunchy gutter humor? I don't think so, as long as it's funny. The Claremont audience wasn't laughing much. She got a few good ones in, but I would say they ever really laughed. I thought it was pretty embarrassing. And then I thought about her acting so shocked when I asked her if she was fucking with me. I'm thinking, gee, a girl who tells jokes about her mother performing oral sex has no business being offended by ANYTHING I might say. _________________________________________Then it was Esther's turn. I introduced her with a joke about how cute and tiny she is, and how I accidently sat on her backstage. I give her set about a 7.5. It's this self-deprecating, I'm-so-ugly-and-undesirable stuff that can work if it's done right. There were a lot of long, uncomfortable pauses, but about halfway through it she got 'em going. Really, the stuff that worked was very good. Maybe I'll raise that to an 8. During her set Amy took a flash photo of her, which is a big, fucking no-no. Half the audience turned around to look. When Esther was finished I shook her hand as she left the stage. She has the tiniest little doll hands. I said, "Wow, I just shook Esther's hand. She's so tiny and dainty I just want to take her home, tie her up, dress her in something frilly and set her in front of a mirror." Then a guy yelled, "Turn her into a voodoo doll! Stick pins in her!" People laughed at that one! ____________________________________________ Then Melissa was on. She really is very good. She's a good physical comic and her impressions are spot on. If you're curious, just look up her Youtube videos. She's funny. ________________________________________ With such a big audience it took a long time to get everyone their checks. Like, way too long. People were getting surly. While the staff was rushing to get people their checks, I helped clear the room. Then it was time for the second show. ________________________________________The 10:00 audience is usually much smaller, and it can be harder to get them to laugh. I'm kind of used to that. This audience wasn't buying Amy's icky jokes. (Oh yeah, I came verrry close to accidently introducing her as Amy Cheap-whore. Really!) Again, I was embarrassed for the club. AND this time Esther took a flash photo of Amy! And again, people turned around and looked. When Esther went up I thought, ok, she did a pretty good job at the first show. Things will pick up now. Nope. She was so thrown by the second audience being quiet that she went into brat mode. She wandered around the stage and said stuff like, "Um, what should I do now? Um...." She picked up the menu and read some of the items. She picked up the raffle form and talked about how stupid it was. Jokes that landed well in the first show fell flat, and she didn't even do some of the good stuff she had done before. When she was done I felt like I had to fluff up the room, so I told the joke about turning her into a voodoo doll. It helped. ____________________________________Then Melissa got up again and her energy was just down. People laughed, but I couldn't help thinking that some of them were wondering why they wasted their time coming out. When the show was over I went back to the green room to grab my uke. These girls had left a big mess of dishes and trash for the staff to clean up. I was offended by that. I picked up their trash and bussed the dishes.______________________________________ Tonight Melissa is performing again, but the other girls won't be there. Different feature comic this time. The 8:00 show is sold out. Yay! We'll see how it goes.

Grrr....

Ok, I haven't posted in a while, and the whole set up looks way different. So, WTF is up with blogger? My last big post is one big run-on paragraph with no breaks. This will not do.

Whoa

Good golly, it's been a while. So much has changed. I don't like that I've neglected this blog. It really helped me through those tough times and I like being able to help myself remember all that stuff by going back and reading old posts. And I do enjoy writing, which these days has become kind of important. I need to write. Writing could actually get me somewhere. -*-*-*-*-*- Comedy just keeps chugging along. I've performed twice at the Ontario Improv (awesome audience) and hosting at Flappers is getting to be a regular thing. And that's why I need to write and why it's important to keep up with the blog. I just need the exercise. My song-writing rate seems to be stuck at one per year and that ain't no good no how. I am getting ideas, tho.-*-*-*-*-*- I got a job. I've been working for the last four months for a nation-wide company that, among other things, provides live-in care for people who are profoundly developmentally disabled. I work in the office. It's kind of funny. I applied as a receptionist, was hired as a temp Administrative Assistant, and, if the main office approves it, come December I will be promoted to Office Coordinator with a raise and bennies. This is big. I've spent too many years in financial drain. It kind of blows my mind that soon I'll have enough money. I'm tripping on the concept of "enough". Enough to live on and pay my bills. Enough to do some home improvements so I can protect my investment. Enough to put a few bucks away while also having some fun here and there. It's kind of hard for me to really see what that will be like.-*-*-*-*-*- Other than work and comedy, things have been a mixed bag. I'm pretty much always able to float along in a happy state (denial?), but it hasn't been as great as it could be. Watching my savings dwindle has been a drag. My house is kind of falling apart (no AC right now. FUN!), and it got very, very messy. I've spent the last few days cleaning and cleaning and it's still not done. Still, it's nice to look around and see progress. I mean, I'm reeeeally cleaning. Furniture is being moved, stuff is getting scrubbed. I'm looking forward to the next phase- PAINTING.-*-*-*-*-*- I had a big yard sale a couple months ago. Drew and Mindy brought over a bunch of stuff and we all moved some shit OUT. We put the leftovers in my sunroom intending to have another sale in June. Now the plan is to have the next yard sale on August 18th. After that, no leftovers. It all goes. Then it's back to the old tile game (remember that?), but I kind of like the tile game, and it should be easier because I've gotten rid of so much stuff already. I'm just glad this stagnation phase is ending.-*-*-*-*-*- I'm itching to do something creative and artsy. The mosaic supplies in the garage are calling to me. In my head I'm finalizing the design for my fireplace and I'm getting excited about getting started.-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- Oh yes, now I remember what it felt like to spend time with the bloggy. I like this.

Over the moon...

That's how I feel. What a great night!

This weekend was my hosting debut at Flappers. Barbara, one of the owners of the club, invited me over a month ago to start hosting. For me, someone who's just getting started in comedy, this is a pretty big step. I've been wanting to get into hosting, I just didn't know it would happen so soon.

Friday's 8:00 show was almost a full house and the audience was great! Friends, Rich and Cindy, and Tammy and Fernando, Jim and Colleen, and Terry and Sue came to the show (Thanks so much, guys!). Rick, the manager, took me aside before the show to give me some instructions. I've seen several shows at Flappers, so I pretty much knew what to do. Still, getting the instructions was necessary because I did make some mistakes. Rick gave feedback every time I left the stage. I felt pretty good about my opening and my set. People laughed. I wasn't as strong when I was introducing the comics. Before I host again I will be working on my weak spots.

The second show didn't go as well. The audience was much smaller and not as jolly. I kind of lost my focus and flubbed a lot of the stuff I was supposed to say. There was one woman in the front who was just a little drunk at the start of the show, but by the time the headliner (Drake Witham) went on, she was fully quite fucked up and wanted to "participate". That involved raising her hands and shouting, "Woo hoo!" at inconvenient intervals. Drake had some difficulty getting through his set. But he's very good at working the audience and he didn't let her throw him. She was annoying, but he made her outbursts part of the show.

At the end of every show, the host gives away prizes and is supposed to send everyone out on a big round of applause. Rick is pretty specific about how he wants that done. With my nerves and inexperience, I kind of messed that up. Not too horribly, I thought. Overall, I felt pretty good about how the night went.

When I arrived at the club on Saturday, Rick was in a bit of a mood. He kind of snapped at me about how poorly I had ended the show the night before. Not a lot, but it was enough to shake me up, and I could feel myself starting to crumble. I went into the green room so I could be alone and try to pull it together. Thoughts were bouncing off the inside of my skull and I was in a small panic. I told myself, look, you're trying to get into this show biz game and this is not the last time someone will be displeased with you. In fact, you're going to hear worse. You need to be able to deal with it. (breathe, breathe, breathe...)

I needed to walk around and get rid of some energy. I went out front to chat with Onely (sweetness and light). While I was out there I saw Rick kind of snap at her too. That actually made me feel a little better (sorry, Onely) because then I knew it wasn't just me. He was having a tense night.

(Before I go on, I need to say that ever since this whole thing started, Rick has been nothing but kind and encouraging to me. He's the one who first put me on that stage. I will always be grateful to him for what he's done for me.)

Posted all over the lobby were flyers about the show. James P. Connolly was making a guest appearance! I got excited when I saw his name. He was performing at Flappers the first night I got on stage, and he's very funny. I had family and friends coming that night, and I was happy that they were going to get a great show. I went back to the green room for a little while (breathe, breathe, breathe) and then went back out front to see who was in line. Jeff and his friend, Tim, were right at the hallway. Whew! So happy to see friendly faces! We had a nice chat (I told them to applaud wildly at the end of the show. Yeah, cheating, I know.) and then I saw Stacey and Scotty in line so I went to talk to them for a bit. Then I went back in and waited for the show to start.

FULL HOUSE! While Onely was making her opening announcement, I was offstage jumping up and down to get my energy up. Then she announced my name and I hit that stage like I was on fire! Hiya, hiya, hiya, ladies and germs! Well, not quite like that, but you get the picture. Oh man, that audience was great! GREAT! They laughed at everything! I was in love! I did three songs, told some jokes, introduced James P. and then I was off. When I went around the curtain, Rick was there and he just threw his arms around me. He said, "You knocked it out of the park, kiddo!"

YES!

I went back to the green room (fortunately it was empty) and did a happy dance, punctuated by fist pumps and giggles. I was higher than a fucking kite. It was an amazing feeling. Then I went back out for the rest of the show. It went fairly well. Still some mistakes and wavering focus, but overall pretty good, and I was HAPPY! After the show I saw my friend Chuck Craw. I hadn't seen him before the show and I was so glad that he had come. Then I talked to Lindsay, Paige, Kyle, and Samy for a bit. We all went out front for a big hug fest. Then I had to go back in and reset for the next show.

Heh! Big difference for the 10:00. Twenty-two people in the audience and they were like statues compared to the earlier show. Yeah, ok, whatever. I didn't care. I think they still enjoyed it. We got mild chuckles instead of guffaws. Some audiences are like that. You still need to work just as hard for them as the ones who love everything you do. After the show I went back to the green room to fill out a W9 form. Yep! I is a professsssional now!

Rick came downstairs and handed me a check. He said, "Donita, I've written checks for everything from a box of cups to paying big name comics. I have never taken so much pleasure in writing a check." He was full of praise and he even commended me on how well I took it when he snapped at me. He said he wants to put me in the hosting rotation. And I, true to form, burst into tears.

I went back into the green room to pack up my stuff. Drake was there. Heh! He asked me if I was ok. I told him I was fine, I'm just a big weeper. We sat and talked for a while. He said he thinks I'm going to do really well in comedy, and he liked my story about how I got started. A couple more hugs from Onely and Rick and then I went home.

As I drove I looked at the moon. I said, "Yeah. I could take that."

Still stuck, but better

Every day I do a little more with the house and every day more items go on the yard sale pile. I'm planning to have it in April. I'm researching and photographing the music and sound equipment and putting them on a blog I created for the sale. When the time comes, I'll put the blog address on Craigslist so people can preview the sale. Time for this stuff to go. Besides, I really can use the cash.

The kittens are almost ready to got outside. I'm looking forward to the day when I can unblock the cat door and get rid of the litter boxes. Paige and I have been letting them outside for supervised play time, and all of them have discovered the fabulousness of the loose dirt in the back yard. Not having the litter boxes in the house will be a big relief for me.

I can't move the treadmill on my own. I started taking it apart and found that the electrical connectors don't really want to be pulled apart once they're clicked in. I'm going to have to call in a professional. I'll do that after the yard sale, which will be sometime in April. Too much stuff piled around the house right now.

That's about it. The job search continues.

Feeling like a fuck up

Not looking for rescue, I just need to vent a little.

2:39 AM. Ugh! I'm feeling a bit off. I hate this restless, aimless thing I get into every once in a while. One problem I have with being single after being part of a couple for so long is I don't have anyone who will just tell me what to do. I don't always trust my own decisions. Sometimes my mind wants to go in a Lucy Ricardo direction and I have to rein it in. Right now I'm working on making some changes around here and I keep wondering if my energies could be better spent doing something else.

But I do want to get this stuff done. I think it will be good for me in the long run. I can't afford to do the major stuff that needs to be done to this house, but I can at least make things function and look better, which will help me feel better. I'm working on getting the tv room ready to move my treadmill in. It just didn't work for me to have it in the back bedroom. I don't know if this will be any better, but I'm going to try it. I've also moved all the records into the house (finally!). All my art stuff will move to the back bedroom. The nice room divider that's back there will move to the tv room and be used as a desk for the record digitizing project. One set of large shelves will be moved to the back for the art stuff.

All this is a lot of heavy lifting, but once it's done, it's done. And I think it will look much better than the mess it's been for four years. AND I can get started on the record project, which I think will be really cool and fun. The treadmill will be facing the tv. If I can sit on my ass and watch Maddow for an hour, I might as well get some exercise.

So, that all sounds pretty positive, but I'm still churning about stuff. I still don't have a job, and I fucking well need one. Soon. I haven't been doing a very good job of taking care of my health (treadmill in tv room, good step), and that's bullshit. It's foolish to let that slide. My car is on its last legs, and I can't afford to replace it. Really, pretty much everything that's bugging me would go away if I had some money coming in.

I'm registered for Spring semester, and if all goes well, this will be my last. Scotty thinks I have enough units to graduate. We're waiting to hear from the Evaluators about the math requirement. I might have taken care of all that at Santa Rosa, but he's not sure if it qualifies. If it doesn't, I'll have to take a math class in the Fall, which would SUCK. Oh well. So here's where I feel like a fuck up. I'm fifty-five years old and I have almost no skills that are useful in today's world. Instead of learning marketable skills, I stayed home and raised kids. NO regrets there, believe me. But, jeez, I sorta, kinda thought I'd have a husband to grow old with. The one I had had a good career and his earnings were going up year after year. I thought we were all set. We both did. Oh well.

So, now here I am. When I worked at RCC I did learn a lot in a short time. I do have some computer skills, but some of these job postings pretty much ask for the moon. I've even seen some that require a Bachelor's degree to do reception work! I know what kind of employee I am, but why should anyone give me a chance when there are so many more skilled and experienced people looking for work? So, yeah, quit whining and go get some skills. Well, I'm working on it.

I really didn't think I'd be out of work for this long. I was surprised when I hit the six month mark. Things are shitty all over.

So, it's more fun to work on my house. It's more fun to do comedy, and work on getting good at it, and dreaming about hitting it big someday (soon!). But I also don't like having that kind of dream, because it seems so foolish and juvenile. Like, when I grow up, I'm going to be a rock star or a pro football player. That shit doesn't happen to real people. But hey, it's already kind of happening to me. The question is, how far will it go?

In the meantime, I pay the bills and watch my savings dwindle.