Flying- A Quick Drive-By Post

Lessons my 2 year old teaches me- 

Sometimes I lay on my back and put my kid on my legs and let him fly like superman. I sing the "I'm flying" song from Peter Pan.  He loves this and laughs like only a 2 year old can laugh.
Sometimes he asks for it. So he walks around saying "I FLY! I FLY! MOMMY- I FLY"
He says it loud and proud.  He doesn't ask, he demands. Not rudely, but with joy.
The metaphor here is too huge and weird and complex to even put into words. But I can say that hearing him walk around announcing "I FLY" makes my heart feel full. It makes me smile. It makes me think I am doing something right with this little man.

The Winter IS My Discontent

Winter, man. Winter.

When I was teaching I would freak out once a semester on a class for being low energy or apathetic, usually with some form of "Look, if I can get my ass out of bed and get here and be this FUCKING PERKY, then you can too!  So PULL IT TOGETHER!" Teaching moment of the year? Probably not. But it always happened and usually in the winter.  Winter, man.

Melancholy. Or maybe A Bit Touched. Or even Kinda Crazy. I embrace these terms more than the contemporary diagnosis of Depression. "Depression" is a weather pattern or an area on a topography map. The thing that invades my body has got a little more poetry than that. Teaching was good for me on many levels, but mostly because it forced me to model behavior that I knew was healthy. Even when I REALLY didn't want to. And THAT is what sucks about being a grown-up. I have done the work. I have learned the tools. I know what is wrong with me and how to fix. No more mystery. No more wondering what is wrong with me. No more excuses for self-medication or sleep marathons or 48 hours of bad television and endless crying jags. But that is not the end of our heroine's tale. No. Every morning is the beginning of a NEW adventure. A NEW mountain to climb or hole to dig out of. And that work isn't easy.

Luckily, I am a Pros vs. Cons kind of girl. And the Pros of doing the work, mental and physical, of getting out of bed and saying YES to the day and YES to the world so far outweigh the cons that usually it's an easy choice.  I can usually talk myself into making my lists or prioritizing or giving thanks or whatever it is I need to do that particular morning to motivate me towards forward movement.

But being a grown-up and doing the work also means I can also forgive myself now for those days I just take my son into bed and watch the snow fall and know we aren't going to leave the house today. Not once.  And I will let him watch some bad television with me despite the warnings from the American Pediatric Association. And lunch is going to be whatever he will eat cold from the fridge or room temperature from a box.

Because tomorrow will be better. Because I know how to make it so. Because I know I can. Winter or no.

Practicing What I Preach

January 13, 2013

So...what's next?

Ice Ring in the Freezer

The sad, sad tale of the ice ring in my freezer. Told through a series of vignettes with my husband...

December 3, 2012
Husband: Honey what the hell is in the freezer?
Me: I went to Trader Joe's today and...
H: No. No. The pan with ice.
Me: Oh. That's our Winter Ice Ring.
H: Am I supposed to know what that is?
Me: I decided that's going to be a tradition. As a start to the winter Holiday season, M & I went on walk to gather winter swag to put in our ice ring. We made it and now we will hang it up out front as a start to the holidays. It's going to be our thing. I did most of it this year, but he can help more and more as he gets older.
H: Okay. That's sweet. When are you hanging it up?
Me: First day of Hanukkah

December 10, 2012
Husband: Babe, you know your ice ring is still in the freezer.
Me: I know. I know. I totally flaked. We are going to hang it up the LAST night of Hanukkah instead.

December 18, 2012
Husband: Honey, can I toss this ice ring?
Me: NO! NO!! Stop!! I am going to hang it up!!
H: Okay, but Hanukkah is over and it takes up a whole shelf in our fridge.
Me: I know! I know! But we're going to hang it up this week before your family gets in town for Christmas.

December 24, 2012
Husband: Hey, did the ice ring melt?
Me: No. UGH! I tried to hang it up today, but I couldn't reach the branch on the tree out front and then I tried in the bushes, but it broke and shattered. So I remade it. It will be frozen tomorrow.
H: Uh..okay...but why did you remake it?
Me: BECAUSE IT IS OUR "THING"!! Look this is important to me. We need traditions as a family. Maybe this happened for a reason. Maybe your nieces can help tomorrow and instead of a start to the holiday season it can be something the kids all do together? Isn't that cute?
H: (pause. pause.) Yes. Cute. Okay. So tomorrow?
Me: Yes. Tomorrow. I swear.

December 30, 2012
Husband: No no son. Don't touch Mommy's Ice Ring. It lives in the freezer now. Forever.
Me: Don't be a smart ass. I am hanging it up January 1. It's a beautiful way to start the New Year. Dontcha think?
H: (silence)

January 5, 2012
Husband: Oh look an Ice Ring in the freezer!
Me: (silence)
H: This is nuts. I am tossing this.
Me: NO! Don't you dare.

 My New Years Resolution is simple and not so simple.

I am awesome at embracing process. I thrive in process.I thrive in possibility. I struggle finding the end.  I shun the completion of anything because I fear realizing what I could have done better and being unable to change it. I fear what comes next.  I am the queen of "Yes, and...", but sometimes life calls for  "yes" or "no".
This year I am going to practice hanging up the fucking Ice Ring.

This too shall pass...

I wrote this a while ago and was too chicken to post it. It's barely a post. I trot it out now as a gift for a friend. -spj

I read once in my teenage years, I think in my high school health book, that the human body cannot physically remember pain. It was probably the only thing I really learned from my high school health book, but think about that. That's huge. We can remember we were IN pain, but we cannot recreate the physical sensations of that moment. It's how babies kept being born before G-d invented epidurals.  It's how we fall in love with someone new after a broken heart. It's how we survive as a species. It's how we forget and move forward.


In my time on earth, I have had my fair share of pain. Thankfully first world type pain, but pain none the less. Broken heart,  broken soul, embarrassment, shame, death of loved ones, physical injuries, numbing fear, the list is endless. But that darn health book is right. As time passes, I can't remember the actual pain. And eventually I barely even think about the specific incident. And when I do, I remember it with a gentle gauzy filter over the lens of my memory.

Walking the Walk...A Confession

Confession time:
I went on an audition. Being back  in Suburbia means I live in close proximity to a Big City. And in this Big City they have them some TheeAYter. I should know. I was an actress in this Big City over 10 years ago.

OVER 10 YEARS AGO.

On one hand nothing has changed and on the other hand EVERYTHING has changed.  The rules are mostly the same, but the players have changed, including myself. Its like having one of those weird dreams which doesn't feel like a dream because everything is normal, but you still know it's a dream because things are just a little off.-"Wow. I didn't realize I could bring my cat to work. Wait. I didn't know I had a cat. Hmm and my cat is wearing a tiny fedora. Oh well, got to grade these papers." That's how I've been feeling. All the time.

So much that I have been kind of paralyzed. I have lots of good reasons to tell people why I haven't been doing anything artistic- still getting settled, not sure how the "must drop everything" schedule of an actor fits in with being the mom of toddler, blah blah blah. And that's true. BUT if I am being honest, I just didn't even know where to begin. I felt too old to be doing the whole "HEY CITY! Here I AM! LET'S DO THIS!" audition shuffle. Generals? UGH! I sucked at them when I was young and perky. I can not FATHOM managing one now. But at the same time, it's been 10 years. I can't just expect work to fall out of the sky based on my good name from a decade ago.

So when I saw this audition, I figured I had to take it. It was a union general yes (vomit, vomit, so much vomit), BUT it was for a specific show and there were no monologues, just preparing sides. Okay. Okay. Less vomit.  It was a new work and the play was about meth dealers. And one of the roles was for the pregnant girlfriend in her late 20's- early 30's. Okay. Okay. This was my thing. This is what I used to do- hooker just trying to get by?  runaway drug addict? good heart, bad decisions? I was your girl. And this sounded like  one of those kind of roles, but 10 years later. Perfect. Read up on the company- small, but very respected. Ensemble was impressive. Let's DO THIS.

And so I did. I took the Steve Martin adage "Be so good they can't ignore you" to heart. I picked up the sides even before I got a slot. I did my research. I did my homework and prep. I learned my sides by heart.  I made choices. I created backstory. I did everything a good girl should.

The people in the audition room were lovely. The reader was great. It was as perfect of an audition scenario as one can ask for. I relaxed, trusted my work and just let go. I felt good. As I rewarded myself with Starbucks for hauling my ass into the Big City and taking a grown-up audition, I was pretty darn confident I would get a callback.

I got an email that night. Thanking me for my time and my preparation, but out of respect for my time they wanted to let me know they were going in another direction.

Now first of all, thank you Small Theatre Company!! That was classy. I so appreciated that. How many times, back in the day, would I wait and wait and wait, holding on with a tiny glimmer of hope "Well maybe they all got malaria and can't have calbacks yet" "Maybe I was SO perfect for the part they don't even need to call me back" "Maybe I was SO perfect for the part, they don't need me to rehearse"  The denial of a desperate actor is so powerful that if it could be harnessed in some way, it could rival solar power as an alternative energy source. I am sure it was a pain in their ass to email everyone they didn't callback and they so didn't have to do it, but wow was that kind. And thoughtful. Just classy. They earned major points in my book.

But as kind and respectful as their message may have been, my next response was...WHAT. THE. FUCK. Holy crap! Was I that terrible?? It hasn't even been 4 hours. I thought I was good. Wait. Maybe I was not good. Maybe I thought I was good, but what I think is good is bad. Was I embarrassing? Did I embarrass myself? Did they all laugh after I left the room? Did they PITY me? Oh my gosh I bet they PITIED me because I obviously worked my ass off on this and then still sucked. And on and on I fell down the shame spiral.

 Oh shame spiral. We meet again, old friend. It's been awhile.

I rode that shame spiral right on down until I spoke the following words to my husband, who found me staring at my computer with unshed tears in my eyes, "Look honey, I just don't think this should be this hard. I mean some people are meant to be actors and I don't think I am. I can't even get a callback after I worked my ass off on this? I think it's a sign that I'm not supposed to do this anymore."
Pause. Pause.
Now, my husband, who has been with me for 14 years, always takes a pause before he speaks when he finds me in these moods. Because he knows it's like dealing with a rattlesnake or a ticking time bomb. Best to move slowly. No sudden movements and no one will get hurt.
"Babe" (yes he calls me Babe sometimes. I don't know what to tell you. I like it) "If a student came to you and told you after going on one professional audition and not getting a callback that it was a sign they should not be an actor, what would you say to them?"
"But it's not the same."
Pause. Pause.
"It's not?"
"NO."
Pause. Pause.
"Okay. I love you. Goodnight" And he quietly retreats. Hoping his not completely insane wife will be back in the morning and his words might help aid in her quick return.

And they do. Even in the depth of my shame spiral, I know he's right. I know in my head, but my heart still hurts and my stomach still aches. Was this part so amazing? I have no idea! It was a new freaking play! I couldn't even get a copy of the script since it wasn't published and there were no copies made available! I had never even heard of the company until earlier that week. But it really wasn't about this part or this company. It was about putting myself out on the line to a room full of strangers. It was about feeling judged. It was about feeling vulnerable. I was out of practice. My ego was flabby.

I have no pithy or inspiring end to this story. I went to bed. I got up the next day and still felt a little embarrassed. I have no idea if I should feel that way or not. I started to replay the audition in my head  a few times, to figure out if I really did a good job or not. Was I really just not right or did I suck? And then stopped myself. I'll never know. So why torture myself? Played with my kid. Bought groceries. Had lunch with a friend. Lived life. Went to bed, woke up the next day feeling a little less stupid than the day before. Lived life.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

Photo Essay the Sequel

So my kid responded to my photo essay from the other day with one of his own. Apparently he got the camera and took all of these pictures this afternoon. I say "apparently" because I was not aware of it happening in the moment.  Found the pictures when going to upload other photos. This little episode comes hot on the heels of receiving word from a former baby sitter that she had received a voicemail she was pretty sure was my kid eating the phone. She was indeed correct. Checked the phone log. I was aware he had the phone.  I was not aware he made any calls. I continue to be Mother of the Year. Enjoy...