So...turned 40 a couple of weeks ago. I'm going through my "let's go to the tape and review how bad we've stunk it up over the last 4 decades" moments. It's not pretty. I'll spare you a lot of the gory details of how I came find myself in the state I am in.
There's a hidden blog on here from a few days ago I wrote and am still in the process of writing but that I will most likely never publish for public viewing where I've pretty much put myself on a on a cold metal slab and mentally, emotionally and verbally dissected my mental and physical state. Searching and picking through myself in an effort to find out when the hell I (my character, my body, my hopes, my dreams, my drive, my courage, my mind) met an untimely demise and what the causes may have been. A virtual "autopsy" of sorts, if you will. Sadly, the results are still inconclusive. I, if nothing else, am quite sure that many, many factors worked in conjunction with one another to lead to a hypothetical obituary that would basically state:
Born July 15th, 1971, she suffered a slow and painful death of character until she left us on...well...we're not quite sure when she left us. Or did she actually? She was alive so to speak...but never quite "lived". She leaves behind a smart, talented and loving man who was more supportive than any girl could possibly wish for, 2 sets of parents who are at a loss as to what went wrong (by THEIR expectations anyway), friends who mistakenly assumed everything was cool with her and that "it wasn't that bad", a great and diverse music collection, an eclectic wardrobe, really old but expensive head shots, a theater resume that rarely saw update but was full of extensive formal training and a few shoddy local productions , a piece of shit corporate resume that she could care less about but was updated constantly with promotions (her best "acting" was done at work it seems, for she never really belonged at any of those places), many unfinished writing projects, a host of ideas never brought to fruition, fresh organic radishes in the fridge that she never really quite knew what to do with...and a cool grey fedora.
I'm not too fond of the possibility of being a zombie. I've come close many times. Much like dead puppies, zombies are no fun. I would much rather be a vampire. Luckily, my inner "coroner" is a vampire. She stood there examining my lifeless person, sifting through the remains, shaking her head, "Tsk, tsk tsk" and mumbling to herself "This is ridiculous...such a waste". The coroner's not happy. She's not having it. She stuffs the heart she has in her hands back into place and says aloud, "Resurrection is imminent, it will be a tedious and slow venture but the process must begin now."
I used to blog often and it helped me a lot. This blog will be therapeutic as well for me, I believe (at least until I'm off the waiting list for actual therapy..lol. Wow, yes I am actually on a "waiting list" for therapy, with several therapists, mind you. Question: What does that say about the mental state of our society and my particular generation in this day and age. So many of us are in line waiting for mental and psychological panacea like it's fucking government cheese (food for thought?). That's deep, folks.
So this blog is step one. My mind. This blog is for my mental, my psyche. I need it stimulated. Perhaps it will get me back into writing my fiction again. Haven't settled on a blog subject matter as of yet for this here venue. Been mulling it over and I don't think I really want to have a singular "subject" that ties all my blogs together. I'll write about anything I want. I'll write about that great movie, that horrible movie, that awesome new band, that song I can't get out of my head, that good book, that delicious meal I cooked. I'll highlight the fabulous things that my talented friends are doing, I may interview some folks about their projects. I may write about that "bummer" day I had, that RPG video game that I finally finished well and long after all my other cool-assed geek friends were done with it and on to something else, people like that ignorant mother last week who let her kid throw a tantrum because mom said no to "Cookie Crisp' or whatthefuck in the cereal isle at the grocery store I was at, people like the stupid fucker at the mostly white club where I had my 40th birthday party that came over to me while I was one of the few black folks over at the jukebox and stated several times "You're gonna play something 'good', right? I mean, you'll pick 'good' music right?" (as if at any moment his precious hang out would God forbid be filled with the sounds of that "rap music" and hip bumping R&B but he had to shut up when Queen and David Bowie surprisingly chosen instead by me), the political bill that's before Congress that will piss on us all if it passes, the rising cost of butter (butter prices...quite out of control, really. I would like to bake some homemade muffins but...damn). I'll write about my own personal triumphs and bumps in the road as I attempt to set out on the road to "Re-animation". Some things I do may be subtle and not worthy of your readership in your eyes, some things may be courageous, some things fabulous, some things may inspire "WTF?" in some and hearty laughter or even comraderie from others". But no matter what the thing, "Some Things" not just one thing, must be done.
Step two: My body. I'm over it. Seriously. If you're %100 with yours, I'm happy for you. I endeavor to be you when I grow up. I'm not Debbie Downer when it comes to my appearance, I still get looks a plenty. But I have to be honest with myself and recognize that my body is betraying me as we speak, plotting against me as I type this and I must hurry before it realizes I'm telling you this and and shoves 6 Matt's soft and chewy peanut butter cookies in my gullet to shut me up and makes me go to the couch to watch a Netflix movie or 3. It creaks, it aches, it makes weird noises, it disturbs my sleep, it runs out of steam at the absolute wrongest of times, and it's really pissing off my lingerie collection...oh..how I could go on but you get the picture. My body is turning on me in part because I've betrayed it in ways as well. No insurance right now so I can't get that all too needed check up at this time but there are other things I can control right now. My inner "coroner" also vowed "We will make her better, harder, faster...stronger." Bally's has been contacted (I know, I hate them too with their narcissistic and aloof training staff standing around texting, looking in the mirror, fawning over one another and giving sideways glances to those of us who do well to turn off the TV and get our asses off the couch to "hamster" the treadmill for 30 minutes, laughing at us and whatnot but they're close to home, have the best deal right now at $10 a month and we're on a budget). My membership begins officially on Friday. In addition to this, my first set of Burlesque classes start tomorrow. Yup, I said it. Burlesque. Why? For many reasons. I'm too conscious of my physical form in negative ways right now. Not digging the way I move right now, the way I walk, the way I do a lot of things. The exercise will help me get in shape so that perhaps I can stop beating myself up for not even trying anymore. The Burlesque is for the general overall need to "get some sexy back"..in MY eyes and wield my corporeal form with more confidence and power. Plus it's fun extra exercise to throw in. Both of these (gym and the "shimmy-shake" classes) I have deduced will assist me in getting up the courage to get new head shots and take my behind back out into the bustling Chicago theater scene, walk my butt onto a stage in front these critical and abrasive assed casting directors and start auditioning again. If any of you are actors, producers, directors, whatever...you know exactly what I'm talking about, let's be honest. I'm already black, already a woman, with beautiful nappy hair that I refuse to straighten who just turned 40 (although because of good genes no one believes it) but let's not add slovenly and "too outta shape" to the possible list of reasons NOT to get a second or even a first look.
Step 3: Who knows? I'm sure there's more but I think I'm off to a good start. The best place to begin is at the beginning. I'll take inventory of myself often enough to see what else needs to be done.
The confidence, the sexy, the stamina, the drive (been "driven" but never really "ambitious", it's just not me), the call to action, the creativity, the passion, the fun, the thinking, the stumbling, the voice, the "life" must be brought back, the awesome stories I used to share with my friends(when I was alive, there were moments where I actually had friends who said they "lived vicariously" through me, I was a wild one once.) , I need new stories and in considering what the last several months has shown me of some people, I need a few new "living" friends as well.
I'm not promising daily updates, but I will vow to occasionally pop in and update as to how it's all going and throw some entertainment, some funny or some "uh-oh" your way here and there if you wish to remain informed. If not, that's cool. No one needs to be more patient with me than I do with myself right now.
Commencing resurrection...now.
