How’re things? Yeah… me too. Hanging in there.
Shut up about the election — and quit with your grinning gleefulness. I’m over it. Moving on. I refuse to care anymore, (but when it all goes to hell I’ll sure know who to point a finger at). ; ) Movin’ along. Nothing to see here.
Pondering sillier things that matter to no one else. For one, I just noticed that I need a real photo of myself. I’ve been trying to branch out a bit and join some “professional” networking sites and suddenly I realized that as vain as I am — I still do not have a decent photo of myself. I have my goofy photos, my old photos when I was an actress, but those won’t do any more. Nope. Gotta face it. I am who I am, now.
And I am lucky to be here.
Tonight, I spent time in my truck while waiting for my youngest daughter in dance class, penciling through my script that I have less than six days to rewrite. Just like High School — waiting until the last frickin’ minute to turn in the assignment, but I’ll get it in. Screw it. I’ll turn it in no matter what.
Ahhh.. so great to be so immature, so lacking of professionalism and suave-less at this point of middle age. I’m tired of trying. Truly. What does anyone want? I have all my teeth. I weigh less than 130 pounds. I’m a nonsmoker and I have ZERO tattoos — that’s saying something. I bathe. I smell good. Hire me. Love me. There.
By the way — as we approach the holiday season, it is worth noting that it is nearly impossible to get drunk on rum and eggnog. I’ve tried. The extra eight pounds is not worth the barely there buzz. Tomorrow, back to Chai tea, and curried short grain brown rice with broccoli. My kids will revolt. I will light some incense and pray over them with my hands up in the air. (They love that.) I will fast. Green tea and honey. Raw carrots, apples and broccoli until I’ve lost the ten annoying pounds. Maybe I’ll get a nose piercing. Hmm. Maybe not. My nose is not dainty enough to be pretty, a ring in it would only call attention to it. You’re right. I’ll puff up my blond hair and wear dangling earrings and long skirts for no one but you.
Listening to music tonight as I write, to you, my fictional person, my fictional love — here ’tis, tonight’s play list:
Star Crossed Memories 5:00 Robert Francis Strangers in the First Place
Some Things Never Change 3:52 Robert Francis
Being Alone (feat. Robert Francis) 4:40 Love On A Real Train & Joachim Cooder
Now Is the Start 4:43 A Fine Frenzy Now Is the Start – Single
When Will I See You Again? 4:55 Anders Osborne
Furr 4:08 Blitzen Trapper Furr (Bonus Track Version)
Pumped Up Kicks 4:00 Foster the People
Helena Beat 4:36 Foster the People
Amazing Eyes 3:46 Good Old War
Hold On 5:34 Tom Waits Mule Variations
Downtown Train 3:50 Tom Waits Rain Dogs
Foster the People was my 12-year-old son’s choice, but I like it. I’m in more of Tom Waits mood, but he closes the list so I’m happy to look forward to it. As it is I just attempted dancing in front of my kids and the look on their faces said it all: Stop. Please. Stop.
Okay. Sitting back down I am.
I should be working on my script anyway. I know. I do not know why I resist. It’s a good script. It’s a good concept. My writing has not yet met the level of the concept. I think I am doubting myself. (Really? Ya think?) Yeah, asshole other self – I think that ‘s what’s going on. I haven’t filled in the blanks that I’ve left in my story. It doesn’t scare me, but it sure feels like I am a C student, too embarrassed to hope for an A.
I am waiting for my kids to go to bed. I’ll tuck them in and pray with them. We’ll ask God to watch over and protect us, to guide us, to make us more than we are…
but as i look at my children I see them as perfect and lovely as they are. I am not anxious to see them acquire or “be” more. They are perfect now. With each passing day, I sense sadness as it goes while at the same time I am joyous to see them grow and transform. As God’s child — does he see me like that too? Am I enough yet? Am I good enough — and for what?
Here comes my Tom Waits picks. Listening to Hold On makes me sigh. Relief and Comfort from a song and a man I will never know. Just like writing to you. No one there. No one listening, but somehow it helps to imagine it anyway.
My kids, one in college, one on a Special Olympics trip, one at a sleep over and two who feel sad and left out have requested to camp out with sleeping bags in the living room. I said yes.
They are watching cartoons and I have ear phones on. Uh oh. Music ran out. What shall I pick? Boxer Rebellion? The Airborne Toxic Event? nah.. Going with Civil Twilight and letting genius pick the rest.
Ooh Yay… Group Love singing “Colours.” I love this group, don’t you? Oh, here’s my side of fries… could you pass the salt? Sure, another round. Live it up!
Smiling. Happy. It’s good. I’m grateful for your friendship.
Back to work.
but first I’m listening to Airborne Toxic Event’s recording of “Happiness is Overrated.”