I've heard it said that the "Earth Goddess Type" sometime need a good dose of spiritual vinegar to cut through the fat/cushy life living.
I fear that my comfortable furnishing have created someone out of touch with the wicked edge that was the rocketfuel that propelled me forward. I long for darkness, for some sort of gothic romance that has elluded me since my arrival here. "Comfortable" isn't sexy, dangerous, or even pretty.
Everything is vanilla in the heartland. It's all goodytwoshoes "Golly gee wiz" thinking...the sheeple are all decked out in their finest xmas garb, credit cards maxed out, children sautering down the church aisle, exchanging cookies in attempt to suck in all that holiday cheer...it's all in the name of "good." These types will, eventually, sweat it off at the gym next month, undertake another failed diet, and drone back to their day jobs next week, their master controls on autopilot in order to feed the offspring that they were instructed to produce.
Dont get me wrong, I'm a big fan of good. I'm a big fan of doing good because it's the right thing to do. It feels good and I would like to think that paying it forward is a way of thinking that will pay off in the end. Will it?
I feel like I have been caught in the lie of "Give! Give! Give till it hurts" and the painful place of not seeing any payoff. I can make the decision to do well, but lack the experience to see the bigger picture of "why." Why? Why? Why????
I long for the wrong. I want to swim in the inky, sticky goodness of a three day bender, complete with beautiful companions and funny pictures to gaze it, especially on those days forthcoming that will be held with headaches, toothaches, butthurt over spilled milk, and wrestling with the beaurocratic monster that is DHS.
We are on the edge of something big and my solar plexus is screaming out.
"Find a deep cave to hide in..."
The Husband tells me that its always the last 5% that I get very anxious and simply cannot finish. I push from the beginning and somewhere in the madness, I give it all and forget to refill the oil lamp. I dont know any other way that to give my whole heart, but lately....the goal seems too fleeting that I am stuck...in my spirit, in my heart, and my head is a mess of swirlling ideas.
The rocket has taken off and instead of a forward thrust, something in the master control decides "not yet" and they whole thing explodes into a fit of tears and heartache.
I am sick of waiting. This entire mess is out of control. There are forces acting in my life that I do not own the controller to, or the translation ring to claim the prize inside. Instead, I'm all dressed up, standing outside the courtyard gates, watching others dance and swirl in their happiness, and my only companion are those also stuck outside the gate, telling me how terrible it is inside. It's all a mirage and I'm a fool for believing otherwise. My heart says differently, but wasn't it my heart that got us into this in the first place?
I find that in this time, I have no more grace, no more patience. I am quite simply: very very sick of doing "good."
Tonight was supposed to be tech rehearsal for the last show I am stage managing for American Theatre Company. I love tech week...we work for it for weeks and weeks. The anticipation is so sweet, then finally! A few chances to rehearse in the theatre, the spiral of opening night, the push to get through to the end, and the sweet tears when it's over.
I was robbed tonight.
The Set Designer I dont get along with, showed up, decided to take over as Technical Director *last week* and was given the chance to run tech rehearsals. This wouldn't be such a big deal, except I had painstakingly worked on every nuance of the show, creating a mountain of paperwork to carefully outline every movement of 25 cast members, well over 175 light cues and 30 major set changes.
To further squeeze lemon juice in the wound? The "scenic designer/tech director" showed up unprepared and attempted to use my supplies, my prompt book (which he dropped all over the floor in front of everyone) and belabored a process that should have taken 3-4 hours into a six hour painfest.
To quit or not quit? We open in a week.
I emailed the director tonight. He was sweet and supportive. He claims tomorrow will be better. My heart is broken.
Finally fended off the Strep Throat Monster. I was terribly, terribly sick for three days. I haven't been down like that since my surgery back in 2008. I dont know what I did to deserve that, but holy crap! It was awful. Now? It's the ragweed. Jeesh. It's like we cant catch a break at my house.
Speaking of my house, we are stone cold sober and it completely sucks. The husband has made the rounds of job interviews, none of which panned out. I'm still waiting to hear back about an Arts Writer position with the trendy, progressive paper in the area. If that doesn't work, it's all good. I really would like to score it, tho.
I'm beginning the month of hell with the show I'm Production Stage Managing: Full Monty. Yep, there's nudity. And drama. And good friends. And saucy flirtations. And extreme fatigue. I love it and hate it. There's a novelty to it: it will be the last one for a while. I'm sure glad it ends on Halloween because I know I will be a total fucking wreck when it's over.
I no longer work for American Theatre Company in the daytime. It ended well and I left with my head held high. I collected my last paycheck, which, of course, caused massive money-head-spins, but I think I have that worked out as well.
I have been waiting for answers about October, and now that I am no longer horizontal and wishing for death, they are smashing against my noggin like a freight train. I gotta keep my cool, but damn it if all these decisions aren't eating me alive.
In an effort to take some major adult steps forward, we are supposed to be looking into home ownership...mostly with the adoption in mind. It's rather difficult to do that without the actual children here. This process is taking FOREVER as we are waiting on the State of California to come back with our background checks. It's been nine months...I could have hired someone to give birth for us by now!
I guess I'm answering my own questions about whether or not to keep renting: I want my own house to destroy as I wish, but that goal just keeps walking away.
Off to garden. I need some major grounding, earth-loving energy.
Also? I need to walk away from the theatre for a bit. One would think that having one's ass kissed all the time is fun, but, honestly? I dont really know who my friends are anymore here. I have a trip home to LA on the horizon in April. I'll put that in my heart and attempt to get my head straight this week.
"No one would blame you, for walking away
Too much rejection, no love injection..."
You know it's going to be a bad post when I start off quoting labyrinth!!
All of my striving and trying has landed me a role of respect with a theatre group I hate. I wanted this day job so badly and now that I've gotten into the middle of it, I really dont like what I see.
It's all sparkly and pretty on the outside, but inside? It's filled with rotting elders who are just out to re-capture their glory days. I am consistantly angry, talked-down-to by a set designer that I wouldn't pee on if he were on fire, and my boss? She's frail, elderly, mean, nasty, and despite all of this: I respect her.
I am severaly burned out. It's not the first time. Theatre life is like a sickness: they lure you in with the prospect of doing professional work and then! The reality sets in that this is just all a flim-flam....