Heart Art and Romance.

Today was a good day. I worked my desk shift at the gym, got to talk a little trash/indignation about the leering guy who came into class yesterday … and got kicked out. A “back spasm” doesn’t allow you to sit & stare at women whose legs are up over their head with their cooches hanging out. Then I came home, began to boil some cinnamon for ghetto air freshener, and cleaned my apartment, including the dishes.

I normally would not have done that, having been awake at 6:45 this morning, but I had a girl friend coming over to meet for an hour, and if it weren’t for those weekly meetings, my house would likely devolve into a sanctuary for monocellular creatures. So, it always makes me feel good to clean it up – I do believe that my home environment is a direct reflection of my headspace – hence the post-nuclear disaster.

After she left, I took a good old fashioned nap. After that…I went on Theater Bay Area, and took my own kick-in-the-butt from this morning’s blog and emailed 2 casting directors…and…signed myself up for an audition slot in January…for a musical. That’s right. A musical theater company. Cuz, whatever dude. I’m gonna suck at anything I do in the beginning. and this IS the beginning. So, whatever. I’m going to try my best – maybe NOT do what I did for Sunday’s audition and actually learn my monologues and songs far enough in advance to really feel confident. ... well, confident-ish.

There are two more casting calls to apply to, but they only list phone numbers, which is a whole new level of fear ;P so, that’ll wait until Monday – normal business hours, right?

Then, I got ready for a party. A holiday glitter dance party to be exact, and man was it fun. I saw people from SF I hadn’t seen in a while, and met new people who live here in Oakland, plus my SF transplant/defector friend, who I’m really glad to have on this side of the Bay.

I danced, I was silly, and energetic, and shy and awkward, and *tall* in my lovely heels and skirt I wore again :). And I drank a lot of ginger lemonade punch, and laughed at others’ silly dance antics – and some really good dance battles! It was fun. I hadn’t felt that in a long time. I was really glad to be there, social awkward self-centered fear aside. I had fun.

Some of the women were part of an Artist’s Way group who had their annual “check-in” today, and were going to do an intention setting. It’s like new year’s resolutions, or any resolutions, only instead of all the self-will-power of a resolution (damnit, it’s gonna happen – THIS year), it has the openness and groundedness of being rooted in love, truth, self-respect, and ultimately, Faith.

So, I got to write down my intention on a piece of paper, and we all walked out of the house party to the backyard like a wonderfully powerful, giddy coven under a full though cloud covered moon, and around the circle we voiced our intentions, burned them, and said a little prayer/blessing of honoring our intentions into the universe. It was pretty affirming – and so unexpected! I’ll tell you mine, because, hey, an intention isn’t a birthday wish, it’s a statement of what I intend to do, and to bring into my life through my action and adherence to my core. It was short, as I didn’t know it was happening till last minute – but that also helped me to edit.

“To follow thru with my heart, art, and romance.”

Simple, yeah; silly, to some; but, to me, that’s what I’m doing, and I intend to continue doing it. 

While the going's good

Hey folks - how you been? I'm currently sitting at the desk shift at the dailey method - yes at 7:15am. I traded my shift from last Friday with this Saturday, as I knew I needed the morning free last week, as I was getting ready for my teaching demo etc.

What I did do this Friday, yesterday, was my classical song for voice class - in Italian. Surprisingly, that song went much better than "Have yourself a merry little christmas," which was the holiday song I chose to sing. My teacher emailed me earlier this week to say another student was going to sing that for our "Holiday Performance" class, and I could do it, but I might want to choose a different song.

So, I paused, and thought about it. And the next morning, Wednesday, my mom texted me to say that Meet Me in St. Louis would be on TV that night. ... For those of you who don't know, Judy Garland sings the above song in that movie - and it's really sad and beautiful. It's at this moment after a little girl has just slain the snowmen she made of her family in the backyard because they're moving from that house, and Judy come fetches her and comforts her (all while in this gorgeous fur coat and bright red dress), rocking her and singing that, "We'll all be together, if the Fates allow, Until then, We'll have to muddle through somehow."

The song always gets me, I cry like a little girl.

So, when my mom texted me that the movie would be on, I decided to sing Have yourself a merry little christmas anyway. And when I sang it yesterday, all drama and all aside, I dedicated the song to my mom. And I totally teared up then too. Now, granted, it was not the performance of my life. I was really nervous, and all full of jiggling emotions, and I was all dressed up in heels and a really hot pencil skirt I've worn once because it was a class party, and we're supposed to dress up for classes when we perform - which is all to say I was also a little ...embarrassed? about looking so nice.

But, I sang it, and as is almost always the (genuine) feedback, the class and the instructor said that I have such emotion and presentation and stage-presence. So, maybe my voice is not Judy today, but I showed up with my whole heart & body anyway. And sometimes that's enough. I've heard the "stage-presence" thing often enough to maybe stop dismissing it. My teacher actually said That's something you cannot learn. So, that felt good. And next it'll be time for me to leap again and show up for another audition, or rather, email back to some casting calls.

I had an interesting moment this week. I was offered a temp gig over my winter break from school at the awful, Office Space-esque company I worked for before. I'd hemmed and hawed on it, trying to see if I could stay with the interior design firm instead, but they couldn't guarantee that they would need me in January, or for how long. So, I accepted the job.

Then, on Wednesday, I'm being driven home from class by a school-mate and she's telling me how she'll be using the break to really begin thinking about jobs after graduation (in MAY!), and I tell her, well, I'm going to be working full-time in the city, and I'm not going to have one day of holiday the entire break, and I'm actually looking forward to when classes will begin again (in over a month!), because then I can finally breathe again.

Anybody else sense a *warning* in the above? Any tinge of resentment against the job I haven't even started yet? A large bout of self-pity for not having any time off at all? An intense feeling of overwhelm? Well, yeah, I finally got that too. And on Thursday, the next morning, I met with a girlfriend at lunch to talk about NOT working AT ALL over my winter break from school.

It hadn't even occurred to me that I would be able to afford not working over winter break. But, it did in my morning pages on Thursday morning, What if I don't work over break? Can I?

So, that morning, I crunch the numbers. If I don't work over break (3 weeks - as I'm with the interior design firm til Christmas), I will be entirely covered - entirely covered - through the whole month of January. And what happens mid-January? My student loan replenishes, and I will have enough. I do have enough. I *don't* have to work over break.

But... being the mind-f*king woman that I am to myself, I work the numbers as to how much I'd earn if I did work (despite ALL self-care information to the contrary). How much would I earn? Enough.for.a.car. A used car, but enough for a car.

What could I use that car for? AUDITIONS!!! Holla!! .... What else? The live modeling gig - they require you have your own transportation as many of the gigs are all over the Bay, at various schools, universities, studios. So... I need a car, right? I need a car to help follow my dreams right? I need a car to be more available for auditions & for gigs, right? ... I need a car under these circumstances when I would be working myself so hard that I nearly cried talking about it with my girl friend at lunch on Thursday, right? ...

Luckily, my friend is wise, compassionate, and has a mountain of faith in all of our dreams. She said that she doubts that the Universe would make it this hard - that she doesn't believe in the kind of Higher Power, if you will, who would make us grind ourselves to the bone for our dreams. If it's meant to be, it usually is simple. That does not mean easy - we have to do work on our end - but look at so many of the things that have just "fallen into place" in my life (See "Wordless but Effective Chant" blog). In each situation when I've given up forcing myself into a situation which did not fit, I was led to something which was immensely better.

That continues to happen. So, ... my friend and I made an action plan for me. First was to call my temp agency and to decline the job in cubicle purgatory. Also along those lines was to affirm that I would be more conscious next time I was offered a job before I accepted it. I actually hadn't really asked myself whether I wanted it (I knew/know I didn't; I was just focusing on having continuous work, as I thought that's what I needed). So, that's my action of reparation for the future - to do things differently. Hopefully.

I did call the temp agency, and she said, So you can't work even a little? And, I said, No. (with all the attendant thank yous and I apologize, etc). And she said, Okay, Thanks for letting me know. And that was that. Cuz, despite the fact that the woman at the new job asked for me specifically (I'd worked there last year and she and I got along really well), and that she rejected other applicants, and that "she only seems to want you," ... (some ego may be mixed in here too, huh). Despite all that - I AM NOT the only woman able to adjust the margins of a 300 page Word document. I am not the only woman able to recalibrate your Table of Contents. Yes, it's hard, because the whole document is fucked and it's mind numbing to highlight and tag and adjust and readjust - it's time consuming and takes patience and diligence - but guess what, I'm NOT the only woman, or person, able to do this job. I appreciate your faith in me, and your appreciation of work I have done in the past but,

Anty needs a recharge. ;P

The other action items were to look into getting away over break. Getting somewhere out of the city, somewhere warm. So, I'm looking into that. Reaching out to my network of elves, I mean friends. If it doesn't work out, my girl friend will be out of town between Xmas and New Year's and offered me her place in the city. So, that would sort of be vacationy, and also would mean I wouldn't have to commute in if I'm doing city related friend things. It's just an offer, a generous and sweet one.

But, just to know that I will have OPEN TIME. FREE TIME. Time that isn't filled with dubious stains on BART seats; institutional recycled air; or resentful exhaustion - that's my Christmas gift (or Chanuka rather!) to myself.

My part of this whole bargain is also to *do* some of my thesis. To email the theater companies. To check out an open mic (that's one of my self-assignments lately).

But, also, Super Molly, part of my assignment is to take a long walk in some semblance of outdoors, even a park in the midst of a city. To paint my toenails. To see friends. To see new friends. This is a vacation after all.

If the Universe wants me to have a car, it'll be easier. If the Universe wants me to get an audition, I'll go "buy a ticket" and apply. If the Universe wants me to feel calm, useful, and available, I'll let it.

Priorities

Sorry ladies and gents: School is taking precedence to my “blog-a-day”, with sleep a close second. Therefore, till next Wednesday night at 11:59pm (when my last paper is due), I can’t guarantee to quench your daily thirst for the blogosphere. ;) 

Thanks for reading – I do enjoy it, but I need to sleep now.

Must Be Present to Win

There’s a parable that goes something like this: A man in Italy goes every day to a statue of Jesus, and prays every day, “Jesus, please let me win the lottery, please let me win the lottery.” This man, every day goes to the statue with the same prayer. “Please let me win the lottery.” One day, the statue comes to life and says back, “Then buy a ticket.”

So, today I bought a ticket. Metaphorically. I threw my hat in the ring. … Also metaphorically, I really like my hat.

If my audition back in April or so was a belly flop with my eyes open (OUCH), then this was a belly flop with my eyes closed. So, it means, I’ve learned ;)

On my way out, I texted several friends to say I sort of blew it – my 2^nd monologue went better than my 1^st, the first being too much of a Shakespearean tongue twister I just couldn’t get memorized. But, that I did it.

A friend then called me and told me her story of her first audition and not even knowing what they meant when they asked what she’d “prepared.” And so, we learn. I learn. Sure there’s a twinge of disappointment, but more than that twinge I feel like I now know several things: first off, I know how long it takes me to memorize something – and it’s more than 12 hours!! Yep, I really only started to memorize today, although I chose the monologues…yesterday? Friday? So, yeah, good to know. and then also good information to not beat myself up. I gave it a really good go. But it was also, as I’ve said, a week of insanity with school and work, and so, good enough is good enough here.

I give myself an “A” for effort. And next time, perhaps I can prepare longer in advance.

The other things I’ve learned are, a) I can show up (Hurrah! good for me!) :) b) where to get headshots done; c) I have allies.

More than any of my other times of leaping off a cliff, this time I asked for more help, followed through on those suggestions, and reached back out to people – this is a newish thing for me – as I sometimes feel that if I’ve asked you for help once, that’s it, my lifetime supply of asking that one person that one favor or for one bout of help is used up. No more, well dry, try someone else.

That’s.Not.True. Sure, some people aren’t the giving type, but for the most part, the people in my life are invariably giving, kind, supportive, and generous. So, I asked for help a second time, and my acting friend showed up for me. And you know what? She’ll probably even take my call next time too ;)

So, that’s the end of this one round (at least I believe so – callbacks are tomorrow, so I’ll know soon enough whether I am or not). But it’s one round, not the match, or game, or series.

I’m also more willing this time to “fail,” which I’ve heard is the key to any success. Being willing to stumble is the only way to learn to walk, right? Persistence. Patience.

And maybe my next belly flop will be a cannonball instead. (Whether that’s a “better” thing or not, I have no idea) ;) (thank you friends, for your support)!!

Somebody feed the models.

welp, if i still took drugs, tonight would have been a nice night to do it. as it was, i was perfectly present for the shrieks of the event coordinator, the reverberations of increasingly drunken model cackling in a room the size of a postage stamp, and the soreness of my toes.

That said ;) It was pretty cool. It was just a long night – from 5 – 11, and I left just as things were really getting “swinging” – there was a band who was just getting their gear set up on the runway we all walked – I more like ran, than walked. I was first, and I felt like I didn’t have anyone’s cues to follow, and just sort of went, spun a few times and left! I’m sure I did just fine :P

I did meet a lovely man as I was passing out chocolate balls. (yes, but, no, they were not schweaty.) But as I was leaving I didn’t see him, so what will be will be. It was nice to flirt in a very light-hearted not too serious way. Just talk-ish as we watched the other models in the non-profit clothing.

I also wrote out my monologues for tomorrow, as I’m one of those kinesthetic learners, and need to write something down in order to really remember it – tell anyone who has seen me with a sonnet of scribbles on the back of my right hand (I’m lefty – and I won’t lose my hand – perfect note-taking).

It was intense with a lot of chaos happening, but it was a gorgeous old Victorian house in San Francisco right on Alamo square park – near the Painted Ladies aka the Full House houses.

There’s not much else to report today. I’ll get to see if any of the photos will be useful for my portfolio, but really, I’m more intrigued by acting these days than modeling. I did see one girl I’d done modeling with earlier in the year for the same non-profit – this sort of very Kate Moss accented blonde model…who is studying to be a teacher at this really prestigious union of schools. So, she said she’ll let me know next time she does stuff, and sometimes she even gets paid ;)

It was my first “runway” show – I’d done a little bit of photo modeling before, but mainly for friends, and nothing “serious”, really. I do have a profile on a professional website for photographers and models, but, hell if they’re not really creepy.

I once met up with a photographer over coffee to talk about his vision, as he’d emailed me, and I was new to the site and thought, well, I’m not going to say yes without meeting him, but sure I’ll meet him – IN PUBLIC. He did a lot of nudity, and I wanted to talk about that, as I wasn’t sure I was comfortable with that (with google these days!! I may be a teacher myself one day, or a mom!). So we met in a café, and he was telling me about his “vision”… and in walks a woman who really seemed surprised to see him there – and he introduces me to his wife. The woman glares at me, then at him with a politely plastered smile on her face. Then when she leaves with her coffee, he tells me that she’s a therapist over at the hospital that’s nearby.

Hm, a guy with a thing for having women place realistic skulls over their vag while otherwise totally naked, and a woman who dives into often sick people’s brains. Yep, a perfectly fucked up match.

In the end, I declined the offer to shoot with him, despite his protestations that his images were “relatively tame.”

So, I sometimes troll my profile on that website, but for the most part, keeping my clothes on when recording for posterity seems like a good idea. Well, that is until the artist’s live model audition in January! (but, it’s paid, accredited, and highly professional – really!) ;)

Undoing Betty Crocker

Almost finished with week one of the end of school insanity shuffle. Tomorrow i do my friend’s fashion show. Sunday I have my audition in SF. and today I did my teaching demo for my Creativity and Spirituality workshop.

It went really well – my professor almost cried as another girl was sharing – and this all about a 20 minute collage. I felt really grateful to be able to share that work with these women. It was good – I did a collage too – and this one also had someone at a microphone. (In the spring when I co-facilitated this workshop, I pasted a rockband mick jagger cartoon yell/singing into a microphone).

But, to get heavy for a minute, that’s not really what’s on my mind at all. If you’re not in the mood for heavy, read yesterday's or check back tomorrow – I’m sure I’ll regale you with something fun about the fashion soiree.

But, for now. This Calling in the One thing. An exercise of a few days ago was about making peace with our bodies, the next was about peace with our sexuality.

I’ve used the terms before “Betty Crocker” and “Vixen” – I vacillate between one and the other. Most of my Vixen happened when I was drinking. It was like the side of fries. The cigarette with a drink. It was just known that if I drank, I was going to sleep with someone – or at least make out – and likely in public, to everyone else’s discomfort.

It was a continuation of “just fucking make me feel better.” The more anonymous, the better, because then I never had to face the shame I actually felt, or the reason I was running with scissors in the first place.

When I stopped drinking, it was like – well, not to be crude, but if you put a plug in the jug, I sort of put a plug in me otherwise. I had a friend around that time who used to be a male prostitute and he told me that he didn’t have sex for a year after he got sober because it was just associated with all kinds of other things. So, I became Betty Crocker again.

Here’s the heavy – add in to this damage and abuse I’m already doing to myself the fact that like one out of six American women I’ve been raped and sexually assaulted, you can imagine the chiasma of all this creates a rather dark misshapen understanding of what sexuality is, or what sexuality can be.

In CITO, she does say that for people who have particular trauma to seek help around this as we move forward, and I’ve been back with my SF therapist for about two months now, since I started keeping track of my money and knew I needed it, and could now afford it.

So, yesterday, I’m in her office, and loathe as I may be to bring this up, I start talking about my feelings of ambivalence around sex – how I dissociate, or how my sexuality, locked in a box, comes striking out in a ravenous bolt of acting out, and then quickly retreats before I can … stop it? question why it…I…need to treat my sexuality like a, well, sin, i suppose. Something you indulge in secretly, silently, shamefully.

We’d been talking about other things, my audition, my new headshots, and then as soon as we begin on this, my body tenses, I stop breathing (or breathe so shallowly, it’s like I’m not), and she says, well, Molly, you have sexual trauma.  --- My brain goes SO WHAT. So do most people walking around. So What?? They don’t all suddenly go all fight or flight.

Therefore, today, when thinking about singing this song I haven’t rehearsed for class – to prepare to perform in one of the most vulnerable ways there is – to sing – there’s no hiding in that. It’s just your voice, your breath, what you are able to pull out from your soul, and sorry lady, my soul is just a little too rattled for that today.

I asked her if I could sing next week – and lovely woman, she said yes. (She asked if I were well, and I said, “Physically” – she understood immediately.) I’ve been a mess all day, the dragon at the head of the cave having been poked wide awake and sensing impending approach. So, yes, I rented a zipcar to get to class (and to get, finally, to the grocery store and get much yummy food) – but I needed the cocoon. I needed to not feel more jostled by the world today. 

So, why tell you? Why “reveal” all this? All this hard, and yucky, and “nobody wants to hear about this stuff” – Because that voice is the voice of my pain and fear, and it has kept me a wounded antelope for years. Repression, denial, they’re our natural responses, but this has outlived its usefulness. So I’m seeking help; I’m giving voice.

I don’t want to be Betty Crocker, nun of the knitted socks and rom-coms. I don’t want to be the Vixen, fly-by-night assassin of self-esteem.

I want to be Molly – human – with scar-tissue – but preeminently, whole. And available for the wonderful thing sex can be.

The girl just wants ta dance.

I just came back from a Keb’ Mo’ concert. if you don’t know him or his music, I highly encourage you to youtube him. It’s delta bluesy funny + sad + honest. I don’t know how I found out about him, but I’ve been listening to him for at least 6 years now, and he's in my top at least 5 musicians.

The show was incredible.

He was funny and humble, and so freaking talented (a steel guitar could melt my soul). and his voice. what emotion that man has. I actually welled up a few times in the beginning when it was just him and his guitar – just out of pure joy and appreciation that a man, and music, like this exist in the world.

It was wonderful. I smiled til my cheeks hurt, I stood up with the two ladies next to me when no one was dancing yet, and just clapped and hooted and shimmied till… well, not till anything. I just did. I just was. I was happy.

The only downside to any of it is that I yelled and howled so much that I think I strained my throat and I have a vocal performance for my singing class tomorrow! But – It was so worth it – it was worth being out on a “school night”. Worth taking BART home from the city. It was worth it to be able to sit at the bus stop with an older African American lady who’d been in my row at the show and gush about how just tickled pink we were.

I won’t go on about his music, but well, everyone left feeling joyful – that was the palpable emotion. The induced and provoked and invoked emotion. And not all music shows are like that. I do also love the harder more rock-y stuff to dance myself out to, but that produces a way different emotion - more RWAHH!! LIFE IS LOUD AND RIGHT NOW!!! Lol, but then again, you can't really dance to punk rock either – it’s more like snap your head in time with the fastest beat, throw in some shoulder, and occasionally shimmy some hips. I dance at the shows. I’m that girl now.

I used to not be – or only when I was drunk and became … well, let’s just say lecherous and often involving Elaine-like flailing (and falling). So when I wasn’t drinking when I went out anymore, at first I felt I had to be “super cool” by not acting like I was into the music – which likely I wasn’t cuz I was probably too busy thinking about what everyone was thinking about me. Yeah, I have that kind of self-centeredness. But, it’s gotten WAY better. And I love to dance. Perhaps I’m not a particularly good dancer (I hold with the view that the best dancer is the person having the most fun) but I do have rhythm of sorts and I just love to let my body just get into the stream of the music, to just let it do what it wants to do in response to what I’m hearing, what I’m feeling from the bass and the crowd.

So, yeah, me and two middle aged white ladies stood up and danced. Eventually more people did too – the domino effect, because likely I’m not the only one who thinks about what other people will think of me. But this is certainly a period of “but do it anyway” for me.

On the way out, a guy asked me out – and I said Not right now but thanks. On the way to BART a guy told me he liked my outfit and that he had “nothing to follow that.” It was sweet.

It appears to be true – the happier I am, the more approachable I am. Not that that’s the end goal – it’s just interesting to notice.

The last thing is, Keb Mo’s last song of the encore went, “She’s not lookin’ for a lover/She’s not lookin for Romance/The girl just wants ta dance.” Amen.