So much has happened since my last post, almost 4 months ago that obviously I have not had time to write here. But I want to tell you what happened because it is a BIG pivot. My comedy class got CANCELLED. I was pretty upset. They didn’t have enough students to run it. However, the
I’ve always been a comedy junkie. It’s in my DNA. With British parents, the main form of communication in my family was sarcasm with a side of soccer. Burning one-liners were revered around the kitchen table and if you could do that while scoring a goal, you were the Pele-Christ. I grew up on Monty
Srinivas Rao sent me an advanced copy of his upcoming book, “Unmistakable”. I’m sure he sent out dozens of unproofed copies but still, to be on his radar is pretty cool. I’m reading it now, slowly. One section at a time and yes, it resonates. I’ve had 3 epiphanies just in the past hour. Ephinany
I know with my whole heart that if people are not honest about who they are, they will suffer – even if revealing who they are is distasteful or offensive or ugly or scary to others. You must do it or you will lose yourself.
I know this because I have been hiding myself all my life.
People sometimes tell me how brave they think I am and I laugh inside my head because I know that fear is a long time dance partner of mine. The only reason I do ‘brave’ things is because I can’t live with the alternative. I don’t think there’s anything brave about that, it’s just practical.
Well, I’ve been trying to un-school my daughter, battling shingles, re-imagining my marriage with my husband, reading, be-ing. I’m going inside. Inside without an agenda except to explore and chronicle. Stuff I’m reading is helping me re-member myself and discern what is important to me. I read Tori Amos’ biography. She is important to me
It’s strange how one day you can be living in the absolute bottomless mosh pit of despair but with one decision you’re suddenly a bird singing on a rainbow cloud made of cotton candy. I visited Amy, an older friend last week. She is 77 and one of the best people I know. Artistic,
They tell me I’ve been writing this stripper memoir for 50 days straight now. And that is why my mind feels like a massive plate of spaghetti- a mountain of random thoughts askew, piled up on top of each other, some even stuck together- the occasional meatball to chew on for a while and feel
I’ve been writing every day for the past 2 weeks- a minimum of 888 words a day so I’ve got a chunk of something under my belt now. The bad news is 98.5% of it is absolute crap that I’d be embarrassed to show my 11th grade English teacher. The good news is 1.5% of