Watching the Clock.

Now, let me preface this by saying I am very grateful to be employed and paying my bills. I work at an accounting office right now during tax season.  Yes, I thank you for your condolences and prayers.  Indeed, it does not get much more stressful especially considering that my employer is not exactly a bright ray of sunshine.

This is the first time I've done office work in a while.  Every so often I like to try my hand at what most would call a "normal" job, just to see if it will be enough for me.  I pray each time that it is.  I desperately want to go to work, 9 to 5, enjoy it, then come home and pocket that cash while I google my next big vacation and buy crap on Amazon that I don't really need but hey you can never have too many decorative throw pillows. 

I've said it before, I envy my friends who have chosen to leave NYC and even the entertainment business and are happier than they've ever been.  At least they seem to be.  Sure they have this small part of them that looks back on the tough times in NYC, schlepping it in the hopes of someday "making it" and then being able to grab cheap bottles of wine and hang out and bitch about how tough it is to be us.  But really, I don't think most would give up what they have now for anything.  They have families and pensions and 401Ks (I dont really know what that is but I'm told that it prevents you from being destitute when you are older).  They have stability and a savings account.  And I think that is beautiful.

So I try to take temporary jobs here and there to fill in the employment holes when I am in between gigs and try to see if maybe this will be the time that I can make a life out of it. Each time I fail miserably. 

When I work a theatre job, 9 times out of 10 I don't dread a Monday.  I don't even know what a "monday" is.  Then again, I don't know what a weekend is either.  I will most likely be working 6 to 7 days out of the week and only dreading that one day-off because that's when I'll be doing laundry and cleaning my bathroom.  My mother worries when I work that much but honestly, when you are doing what you love, work is not a bad word.  You may complain about things that annoy you (i.e. a demanding director or not having enough time to sleep), but you don't have that feeling of wanting to claw out of your surroundings.  There is a contentment in the chaos and creativity.  I never waste time and I never count it.  And I rarely resent it.

When I sit at this desk for seven hours a day, I watch the clock.  All. The. Time.  I wish for time to go faster.  How awful is that?  Wishing for your life to pass faster. Wanting a day to end. You will only get ONE March 27, 2014.  You'll never get another.  And you want it to be over. 
When I work a job like this, the weekends suddenly go too fast and the weekdays go too slow.  Or I forget what day it is at all.  I have a hard time staying in the present because the present is just too monotonous and claustrophobic.  I have never spent so much time on facebook and the internet.  And I don't mean that in a good way.  If I am tweeting or posting or googling, it means I am DOING nothing. 

When I was in my first college studying business, I had a bad bout of depression.  We're talking therapy, weight gain, a wee bit of prozac, and a whole lot of dreading Mondays.  Through that I learned that I am the type of person that if I am not DOING, being productive, and working towards something that matters to me, I begin to hate my life and myself.  I wish it wasn't so dramatic and that I could work a different way.  I wish I could autopilot my day job and then enjoy my nights.  But I'm not built that way.

Being idle makes me go crazy. 

I am a smart girl.  I could do many things.  But until I find myself being fulfilled by one of these "normal" jobs the way I feel when I am connected to theatre and film...well, it really ISN'T a choice. 

It is, of course, not without stressers.  I worry that my decision to live like this prevents me from building a good home and family of my own.  I worry that that is one of the reasons I have not done so already.  I worry that as I get older, the lack of funds will take a toll. 

But I also know that I'm very good at what I do.  There's an excellent chance that I'm going to do well.  I also know that going with my gut has yet to fail me.  Any decision I've ever made that mattered has felt "right,"  without explanation.  And I'd rather go with that than watch the clock and wishing for tomorrow.

You know the difference between having an unhappy day or week and being unhappy right down to the soul.  One is uncomfortable.  The other is terrifying and unbearable.  So I will finish up this temporary job, doing my best to please my good hearted but miserable boss.  I will keep praying and pushing myself to give myself the absolute best chance possible. And I will keep swimming. 

I Will Break Your Phone For You. You're Welcome.

I do not own a smart phone. My phone is not intelligent in any way.  Her name is Sugar (I name some of my possessions in the hope that I will take better care of them and they will stop getting lost), she is purple, she turns off when she feels like it (just like any woman), she is cracked, and her ringtones are embarrassing so I mostly leave her on vibrate.  And yet, most people when they see her (after they are done mocking me, of course) say, "Gosh, I wish I could go back.  I'm so addicted to my phone that it's disgusting."

Well, I am here to provide a service, friends.  I will break the sh*t outta your phone.  For free.  Because I'm just that generous.  Because I love you.  And because you are annoying the hell out of me when you ignore me at lunch.

Here's the deal about hanging out, going to brunch, or doing drinks with me.  I will give you exactly five minutes to take a selfie, instagram your food, check in on foursquare, and then turn the ringer off.  If you have any pending texts to your mom, significant other, or hot roommate that you are secretly in love with, then you can take another minute to warn them that you did not get blown up in a terrorist attack or eaten by squirrels, you are just at lunch with a friend and don't want to be rude by ignoring her.

Because that's what it is.  Unless you are showing me photos of your kids or your dogs (I'm a good friend, I'll look at them and Ooh and Aah with the best of them, knowing full well that if/when I have any of the above I will make you do the same thing), or you are waiting for a phone call from Christopher Nolan to star with Liam Neeson in Taken #542, then that phone can be turned off for 45 minutes while we finish our gourmet grilled cheese.

FYI: Unless that grilled cheese was grilled in a way that left a pattern that looks like the face of Jesus or for some reason the chef spiced it up with gummy bears, no one needs to see a photo of it. 

If you reeeeeeeally need to text your Ex because you just thought of an incredibly good come-back or were struck with a moment of nostalgia that you need to share with him, take your phone, go to the bathroom, emoticon to your heart's content, and I promise that I won't put something gross in your mimosa while you are away. 

When you spend more time looking at your phone than at me you are telling me two things:

1. I am wasting your time.

2. You are wasting mine.

Now, #1 may not be true but that is the signal you are giving.  And #2 is definitely true.  If you wanted to text and tweet, you could have done that at home while eating take-out and watching re-runs of Family Guy in your underwear.  And me?  I could have been doing a number of awesome things like my laundry, writing and then deleting pages from my novel, pretending to sleep, or watching The Killing and shouting at the telly that it does not, in fact, rain like that in Seattle.  See?  We could have been more productive with our time.  Because who has time to waste?  No one.

What if I was saying something incredibly charming and worth tweeting?  Hey, it could happen.  I may be tweetable, you never know.  What if I was considering you for a part in my project for the fall? What if I just needed a friend because I was lonely?  You not paying attention to me is like saying that I am not as interesting as Candy Crush. And that makes me incredibly depressed.

I saw a father and his little girl on the street today waiting for the M10 bus.  The little girl must have been three or so.  She was adorable with her hot pink puffy jacket and multi-colored polka dotted stretch pants.  She was looking up at her dad with her arms stretched up to him, tiny muscles straining and reaching for him.  He was on his iphone and texting away.  She reached further, teetering on her tip toes, arms even wider as if she was about to catch a beach ball.  And daddy was texting.  He finally picked her up minutes later and balanced her on his hip, and continued to text one handedly.  

...yeah.  That's how you make me feel when you do that crap.  Like I'm reaching for your attention but you have better things to do.  And I warn you, I have worse and more dangerous tantrums than a three year old.

I read an article once where this group of friends went to brunch regularly and the first thing they did was put all their phones in the center of the table.  The first person to reach for their phone pays the tab.  I think this is a brilliant idea.  Though beware, I'd win every time.  Hands down.

Of course, as always, there will be exceptions.  Your sister's having a baby, your mom is in the hospital, you really ARE waiting for Nolan to call you to star with Neeson, etc.  But then you just need to tell me in the beginning.  And then I'll just sit there scoping out the hot guys in the restaurant and text my mother while you do your thing and we're both happy.  

But I really will break your phone for you if you like.  Technology repels me.  And I can share that magic with you.  All you need to do is ask.

Your "Mystery" Makes Me Cranky.

Do you know what you require in a friend?   Not an acquaintance (for they are temporary and many).   Not a colleague (for there is a certain line that exists that cannot be crossed). Not a family member (you can't do anything about them).   I mean, a real friend.

People these days seem to worry about asking for too much when really you should demand a great deal of your friends.  There is no shame in that, considering that you, in turn, should give just as much.

Have you looked at your friends and seen what they might have in common with each other?
It matters, you know.  It isn't that you are the company you keep, but more like, the company gives and takes from you.  With the wrong combination of people, you may find yourself emptied out.  The right combination, and you may take steps forward towards being your best self. 

I can count on one hand the number of people that I have the deepest and most binding friendship with.  One never has many of these types because they are rare.  Sometimes, they are non existent.
Then there are the good and hearty friends that I surround myself with.  Of them, there are many.  And I am fortunate that they cover the globe.

I started to look at the people who were close to me. The ones I call upon. There seems to be a pattern.  The majority of my friends are Kind, Generous, they have Faith (not always in God, but in something).  They are Inspirational.  They have Hope.  They have Patience.  They do their best.  They accept flaws.  And they have Honesty.

Many of those traits are things I struggle with within myself.  Perhaps I am drawn to these people in part because they hold what I lack.  I pray for patience every day.  I ask for help so that I can let go of the choke-hold I have on my world, so that I can have a Freedom of Faith.  Perhaps I'd have less anxiety then.  I am not always outwardly kind.  Not immediately.  I try, but fail often.  But being around these people, I feel closer to all those things. 

I am a natural pessimist.  Growing up, they called me the "misery chick" in high school.  If there was a downside, I was already sliding down that banister.  But these days, though I still see the half empty glass, I've trained myself to avoid the whining (mostly) and just go get more water (or gin, depending on the day) to fill it back up.  I think the friends I've been blessed with are a good deal of the reason for that training. 

Now, Honesty.  That's one trait I've required AND have also given.  Honesty may be number 1 with me.  Because to me, honesty is respect. Respect is love.  It's all connected.  I had rather be hurt by honesty than lied to or having the truth withheld from me.  Because honesty is a brief cut that heals quickly.  Lies can sometimes give hope where there is none.  From that, you can live on echoes and never be filled.  It becomes an open wound that festers and never quite heals.  The quickest way to my heart is utter sincerity.  The quickest way to be voted off this island is a lie.  "Ain' nobody got time for dat."

I'm not saying I never lie or that I can't forgive.  We all do.  But what I'm mostly talking about is the type of Honesty in who you are.  It's one of the reasons I've liked NYC.  It's honest in its disdain. It doesn't try to cover a lie. I can trust it for its beauty and its evils.  I don't worry whether she likes me or she doesn't.  She's pretty clear how she feels even if she's bipolar and will change her mind the minute the stank wind changes.  But I know that.  I get that.  I can trust that.
That's what I like about my friends.  Not that they are bipolar and stank wind changeable. I can trust who they are.  They aren't predictable, they are dependable.  Mystery does not interest me.  It does not make a person alluring to me.  It makes you confusing.  Confusion tires me. I'm cranky when I'm tired.  So, in sum, your "mystery" makes me cranky.

When I see someone who is living exactly as they are, I have the utmost admiration for them.  They give me the courage to live that way myself.  When they tell me a hard truth, I know I can believe them when they tell me a beautiful one.  When I see them giving selflessly, unafraid that they'll have nothing left, I am encouraged to find compassion that is beneath my insecurity.

I am sure it is not easy to be my friend.  I can be quite the blunt pain in the bum. But I am also sure that if you are one of these truthful people who inspire and believe in me, you will never find anyone more loyal or accepting than (*points to self) this pain in the bum.

So in the words of the Golden Girls...

 


 
 

Being Talented Does Not Give You License to be an A$$hole.

Being talented does not give you license to be an asshole.

In fact, you could just as easily say: Being [insert awesome trait here] does not give you license to be an asshole.  Excelling at anything does not give you that License.

Don't get me wrong.  I totally understand the compulsion.  But you must refrain from being "that guy."  It makes you weak, pompous, and unlikable.  But more, it stunts your growth as well as the growth of others.  And that, my friends, is cruel.

No matter what business you are in, what gifts God has given you, there will always be something that you Can't Do and something that you Don't Know.  And that makes you just as flawed and ignorant as everyone else.

On the other end of the spectrum,  being ignorant does not give anyone license to treat you like a dumbass.
When you think of the word "IGNORANT", I bet you think it is a derogatory term; something synonymous with "dumbass."  Do you know what the definition of ignorant is?  Allow me to enlighten you:

Ignorant= lacking knowledge or information.   That's it.  Simple as that.

I guess if you didn't know that definition, that would make you ignorant of "ignorant."  But I digress.

You see, there is nothing in that definition that implies that you are less of a human, or that you are stupid as a whole and therefore afflicted with dumbassery.  (Trademark to come on the term dumbassery(C)).

You should never be ashamed of saying, "I don't know."  Because usually what follows those words, if you are smart about it and not in front of a person carrying an Asshole License, is you learn how to do that thing that you were ignorant of.

As an actor we are always learning, always changing, always finding the different colors of humanity. We know that.  But what we also need to know is that that applies to our normal life as well.  One is not separate from the other.


So, here's how to avoid earning your Asshole License as well as avoiding Being Afflicted with Dumbassery:

Know. Your. Worth.  But don't shove it down people's throats.

When we "toot our own horn"  we want everyone to look at us and GIVE us our worth.  We expect reaction and applause.  We look to others to fill us up when we feel empty.  You can get information from others, you can get tools and knowledge.  But you CANNOT get your self worth from them.  They cannot give it to you.  If they try, it isn't worth, it's them imposing their need for validation on you.

How do you recognize the difference between knowledge and people shoving need at you?

Well, one feels like a hug.  It feels like someone has handed you a decadent meal when you were starving.  And you can walk away from the experience on your own two feet.

The other feels like you've been patronized and dragged behind the back of a Buick on a leash.  You walk away (if you walk away at all) feeling bruised and small.

I saw a sign on the side of a church once that said "When you recognize your worth, you stop giving discounts."  That's the truth.  When you know it and live it, you don't feel the need to scream it at people or force "what you know" in their faces.  You also rarely allow people to speak to you in a way that is degrading or make you feel subservient without your permission (hence the not giving discounts).

Now.  Even knowing all this, I still fall victim to it.  But there is a difference between a person who is decent with asshole or dumbass tendencies, and those carrying their Licenses.  When I do something well or am rewarded for something that means a whole heck of a lot to me, a part of me wants to let EVERYONE know.  I want a pat on the back and I want them to ask how I did it.  On the other end, when someone I thought I respected comes down hard on me for something I didn't know, I want to hunch down into myself and take the whipping.  But I try to find that middle ground.

Tell your mom how awesome you are.  She already knows and she'll agree with you.  The only person who beeps that ego horn louder than you is your mother.  At least that's true with mine.  But leave your temporary superiority at the door.  It doesn't mean that you can't tell people about your successes, but don't then "school" them in how they can be more like you.  Don't treat them like a subordinate.

Instead, when you are feeling awesome and you find yourself with the opportunity to lift someone up by teaching them something new, treat them like a colleague, make them an ally, because someday you may be looking at ignorance yourself and they may be the one to dig you outta that pile of manure that is the "not knowing."

And when you feel like you are coming down with a bad case of dumbassery, don't beat around the bush.  Don't waste time.  Say "I don't know."  Then go find the answer from someone without a License.  You'll get where you wanna go faster, stronger, and there's no shame in that.