To all my fertile friends: you and your little bundles of joy can go to hell. Seriously, can I just go one goddamn month without someone expecting or having a baby? Do you people know what a fucking tailspin it sends me into? Can't I just recover from one, without seeing another "We're preggers!" Facebook status update, another picture of a wrinkled, bloody newborn and a sweaty new mommy?
DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE ASK. Don't ask how long we've been trying, if we've been to the doctors, if we're thinking of adoption, if we're thinking of freezing eggs or implanting a surrogate or any of that shit. It doesn't fucking matter. And don't tell me what a great mom you think I'd be, because that REALLY doesn't fucking matter.
How many rationalizations have I come up with to justify my existence? I make art, not babies. I help Grandma, because I have time. I babysit so my friends can have a little grownup time, or work, or whatever. I can afford stuff. I can eat, drink, smoke, and sleep, based on my own needs and nobody else's. The truth is, though, I'm just killing time for the next fifty years.
The only purpose of a species is to propagate itself. I live every day with my failure to contribute to the continuance of the human race, particularly what I believe could have been some remarkably valuable DNA from Hans and myself. End of the line, fuckers. End of the line.
I could have had a baby, twelve or so years ago. When I found out, my first husband offered to push me down the stairs. If it had been anyone else's, I'd have kept it - but believe me, it was a life-saving measure that I don't regret.
Sometimes I think a God that doesn't exist is punishing me for that. Sometimes I think that when Hans and I got engaged, and an ultra-religious family friend asked what religion we'd raise the children, she didn't like our answer (it was "open-minded") so she somehow cursed us. And every month I still think "maybe."
All right, I didn't mean that about going to hell and taking your spawn with you. I'm friends with some wonderful, kind, intelligent people, and I'm glad you're elevating the gene pool. You have (or will have) amazing kids, and they bring a smile to my face like little else in this world.
It's just... give it a rest, you goddamn rabbits.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Saturday, June 6, 2009
I finally got the Westport show pictures off my camera... then I started to write a blog, saved it as a draft, and forgot about it. Anyway, a bunch of pictures should be up in the next few days, on the troupe website, www.AnomalyOrange.com. I'm not remotely an awesome web designer, but I am a good artist who kind of knows a little Photoshop and Dreamweaver. The website, for me, is as much a learning process as the improv itself. I'm just having fun making it look pretty while it does basic functions, and when I need it to do something else, I have to figure out how.
Anyway, here's my favorite shot, in which we get ready to pose for a picture before the show. Left to right: Brandon, Clay, Jess, me, Tom, Zak, and Joe.
Anyway, here's my favorite shot, in which we get ready to pose for a picture before the show. Left to right: Brandon, Clay, Jess, me, Tom, Zak, and Joe.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
The Night Before Prom
Anomaly Orange's first show is tomorrow night, and I don't mind telling you: I'm nervous as fuck. I'm not saying that to get any "you'll be fine" type of response - I'm just digging the anticipation. Like, holy crap, the show is tomorrow night. People are coming to see it. It's in the Pitch (print version available Thursday). Oh My Goddess, it's in the freaking Pitch.
The write-up makes us sound pretty ambitious. The bar is definitely set high with the note that we're doing the same format as Tantrum, one of the top troupes in town. So a couple details got mixed up somewhere between press release and final product, like the show name... but the date, time, place, and price are right, and at least the RB's got mentioned at the tail end.
Rehearsal last night was the first time I saw the Rubber Biscuits, and there's something beyond just the scene mechanics that I like about them. I think it's how they relate to each other onstage, their bond seems really strong. Clay rehearsed with us last night, too. His monologues are fun to play with, full of texture and people and odd little actions.
Denton Turley has been working with us as a coach, and after notes, talking about a different experience, he gave a timeline of show production v. show readiness. He said "After you've been rehearsing about two months, you put up your first show. After you've worked together for a year, you'll be ready to do your first show. And after another year, you'll be good."
I'm not afraid of a few weird moments. I know they're going to happen. And then they'll be over, and there'll be more awesome. It'll be fun! I'm a little afraid I'll forget to not say "fuck" in front of the children.
~~~
In non-improv related stuff... uh, I'm not pregnant.
The write-up makes us sound pretty ambitious. The bar is definitely set high with the note that we're doing the same format as Tantrum, one of the top troupes in town. So a couple details got mixed up somewhere between press release and final product, like the show name... but the date, time, place, and price are right, and at least the RB's got mentioned at the tail end.
Rehearsal last night was the first time I saw the Rubber Biscuits, and there's something beyond just the scene mechanics that I like about them. I think it's how they relate to each other onstage, their bond seems really strong. Clay rehearsed with us last night, too. His monologues are fun to play with, full of texture and people and odd little actions.
Denton Turley has been working with us as a coach, and after notes, talking about a different experience, he gave a timeline of show production v. show readiness. He said "After you've been rehearsing about two months, you put up your first show. After you've worked together for a year, you'll be ready to do your first show. And after another year, you'll be good."
I'm not afraid of a few weird moments. I know they're going to happen. And then they'll be over, and there'll be more awesome. It'll be fun! I'm a little afraid I'll forget to not say "fuck" in front of the children.
~~~
In non-improv related stuff... uh, I'm not pregnant.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Dear Mrs. Valenti,
Thank you for stopping me today as I was walking Grandma to dinner. Thank you very much for expressing your concern for her sparse eating habits. I need to stay and watch her pick at her dinner? What a fantastic idea. She totally listens to me when I tell her to eat. Besides, watching old people eat is hilarious, and clearly I DON'T ALREADY DIE INSIDE ENOUGH EVERY TIME I SEE HER, which is often. When you shared your earth-shattering observation with me that she needs more care, it's not like I'd just spent ten minutes showing her where the flush-handle on the toilet was, and convincing her to REALLY wash her hands, not just get her fingertips wet. Nah, I was just hanging out on the assisted living floor, not paying attention, 'cause that's what I do for fun.
All the best,
Jenifer
~~~~~~
Feh. If I pumped any more SSRI's into my system, I'd be too numb to do improv, and then I think my life really would suck.
All the best,
Jenifer
~~~~~~
Feh. If I pumped any more SSRI's into my system, I'd be too numb to do improv, and then I think my life really would suck.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Presenting... Anomaly Orange!
This is it! This is the new improv troupe! That's the poster for our first show! Check out the website too, at www.AnomalyOrange.com.
Okay, gotta go. Have a great day!
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Up All Night
The song of birds reminds me that I should have been asleep by now*. My schedule is creeping forward again. If I were a planet, I'd have one of those wacky orbits that takes astronomers centuries to detect the pattern.
Great. Now I want to watch Pi.
Improv ouch: pimping yourself into a roomful of folio edition Shakespeare, and blanking on a single damn quote. Stammering out some iambic pentameter that gets your eye poked out. With an appendage. Thank Dionysus for my creative, on-the-ball classmates who made the scene into awesome!
Improv happy: getting to be part of a beautiful French Braid scene with Guy and Martha Maggio. Emotional depth and breadth, interesting twists without invention, honest realistic relationships, and a punchline timed with a sharpshooter's accuracy.
More improv happy: Anomaly Orange is off to a running start, and preparing for our first two shows. We'll be at the Westport Coffeehouse on May 28 (Thursday, 7pm, all ages, $5) and the Roving Imp on June 13 (Saturday, time-n-price yet TBD). Official announcements, invites, and pretty posters coming soon! Can! Not! Wait!
Employment happy: So, you know, I'm mostly unemployed. I sell an occasional book online, babysit now and then, volunteer when I can, and remain available to help family and friends. I figure I contribute to the whole economic situation by not taking up a job someone else needs more, since we are able to get by on Hans' salary. But, a person gets to feeling a little useless and closed off and like a 1950's housewife (only less good at cleaning). Well, some seven years after giving up paid theatre work and answering to the arts-man, a series of connections led me back. I'm on the call list for changeovers at the American Heartland, yay! And I still remember how to focus a lighting instrument, yay! It will be occasional, not full-time nor even part-time. But the pay will cover the gas to get there (yeah, I don't even know how much it pays), and it's fun. I'd forgotten how perfectly at home I feel on a catwalk thirty feet above a stage!
Guitar happy: After about five years of messing around on the guitar, I finally had the chance to take a few lessons this spring. It's made a huge difference... or, in Hans' words, it no longer sounds like I'm torturing animals. I can finally hold a pick the right way. I'm playing scales and arpeggios, and can actually tell that my fingers are getting stronger and faster. I can play chords that used to hurt, like B minor. I'm getting fingertip calluses!
I wish someone in my life had taken the time, some thirty years ago, to explain to me the concept of muscle memory. I always had a pretty reliable brain for learning how something was done, but I thought once my brain knew, my fingers (in piano) or my feet (in dance) should be able to follow. And I never became amazing at anything with a physical component. It might be too late at this point in my life to ever be an amazing guitarist or improviser (and I can deal - I do these for fun and I bring my own skill set), but now that I can accept practice and patience as part of the learning curve, the process is much less frustrating.
*"Now" at the time of writing was about six in the morning. I fell asleep before finishing the post.
Great. Now I want to watch Pi.
Improv ouch: pimping yourself into a roomful of folio edition Shakespeare, and blanking on a single damn quote. Stammering out some iambic pentameter that gets your eye poked out. With an appendage. Thank Dionysus for my creative, on-the-ball classmates who made the scene into awesome!
Improv happy: getting to be part of a beautiful French Braid scene with Guy and Martha Maggio. Emotional depth and breadth, interesting twists without invention, honest realistic relationships, and a punchline timed with a sharpshooter's accuracy.
More improv happy: Anomaly Orange is off to a running start, and preparing for our first two shows. We'll be at the Westport Coffeehouse on May 28 (Thursday, 7pm, all ages, $5) and the Roving Imp on June 13 (Saturday, time-n-price yet TBD). Official announcements, invites, and pretty posters coming soon! Can! Not! Wait!
Employment happy: So, you know, I'm mostly unemployed. I sell an occasional book online, babysit now and then, volunteer when I can, and remain available to help family and friends. I figure I contribute to the whole economic situation by not taking up a job someone else needs more, since we are able to get by on Hans' salary. But, a person gets to feeling a little useless and closed off and like a 1950's housewife (only less good at cleaning). Well, some seven years after giving up paid theatre work and answering to the arts-man, a series of connections led me back. I'm on the call list for changeovers at the American Heartland, yay! And I still remember how to focus a lighting instrument, yay! It will be occasional, not full-time nor even part-time. But the pay will cover the gas to get there (yeah, I don't even know how much it pays), and it's fun. I'd forgotten how perfectly at home I feel on a catwalk thirty feet above a stage!
Guitar happy: After about five years of messing around on the guitar, I finally had the chance to take a few lessons this spring. It's made a huge difference... or, in Hans' words, it no longer sounds like I'm torturing animals. I can finally hold a pick the right way. I'm playing scales and arpeggios, and can actually tell that my fingers are getting stronger and faster. I can play chords that used to hurt, like B minor. I'm getting fingertip calluses!
I wish someone in my life had taken the time, some thirty years ago, to explain to me the concept of muscle memory. I always had a pretty reliable brain for learning how something was done, but I thought once my brain knew, my fingers (in piano) or my feet (in dance) should be able to follow. And I never became amazing at anything with a physical component. It might be too late at this point in my life to ever be an amazing guitarist or improviser (and I can deal - I do these for fun and I bring my own skill set), but now that I can accept practice and patience as part of the learning curve, the process is much less frustrating.
*"Now" at the time of writing was about six in the morning. I fell asleep before finishing the post.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Dear Blog,
How have you been? It's been, like, over a month since I've written -- I am SOOOOO sorry! There was just a lot of family and birthdays and travel craziness last month (or rather, Hans was traveling), and I haven't had as much in-depth analysis to give, so much as running from one thing to the next. We'll catch up soon.
Love,
Jen
Love,
Jen
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