You Try The Best You Can, The Best You Can Is Good Enough

PART THREE:

I know making the job transition was integral to this, pun intended, bitch-flip.  But another big part of it?  Pills.

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Yessirs and ma’ams, yours truly is on anti-depressants.  I have been dodging this bullet since my first suicidal ideation episode when I was 22 and I threatened it on the phone to my mother.  Her reaction set me straight till a good 4 or so years later when the thoughts came back while I was painting a piece for my brother and his soon-to-be-wife. 

And that lasted a few years, in New York City, and I tried to work it out onstage as a stand-up comic.  It kinda worked, but again what brought me out of that was when I walked out of my day job at the time.  I just left.  And instantly, I felt free.  

So I had never felt the need for anti-depressants because eventually, one day, even if it was a handful of precious years later, I would feel better.

This time was different.  It started back in 2009 when I started a business relationship I instinctively knew was going to implode.  Oh, hindsight and your Lasik, totally covered by the Universe's awesome health plan. I didn’t quite trust my partners from the very first time I met them and I pushed that feeling down inside to ride the enthusiasm towards my idea that these people shared with me.  And it worked for a little while.  Until my psychology caught up with my physiology (I was experiencing a lot of fear and anxiety, pains in my chest, depression, and reluctance/resistance around the project and my partners), wherein I practiced different ways to end it and eventually found what I thought was the best way to say it.  And then I was berated via email for what I literally felt necessary to my survival to do. Yep, literally.

I can see the other side, I really can.  Break-ups are rarely easy.  But they’re always for the best.  Nevertheless, the previous year in such toxicity had taken its toll and I gave my power up to the words in aforementioned email about my needing mental help and that I’m a raging egomaniac.

I took the words as truth, deep down.  On the outside, I think I successfully portrayed that I knew they were projection.  But those judgments ate away at me because they were already there and I think the author knew that.  

So, I did the thing any well-meaning depressed artist would do.  I ran a 5K that December and started going to yoga regularly (even if it was just once a week) that January.  I practiced my banjo with a metronome. I continued performing my work from the project and eventually got new partners to grow the project in the direction I never realized I wanted that badly.   But the whole time, I had those words streaming through my head, erupting from my subconscious, as they sank lower into that ether, whenever I would have a moment of forward movement. 

to be continued...

My Feelings Can Again Be Best Summed Up In An Obscure Pop Song...

PART ONE:

Well, hello, everyone!

It's been a while.  I always say that I'm not going to mention that I haven't written in a while, but I always mention it.  But I know all y'all have me in your fancy RSS Reader or whatever, so getting an entry from me is like a little surprise gift, isn't it?  ISN'T IT.

And now I'm going to make that oft-repeated blogger promise that I'm going to be blogging much more  now because I don't have a job where I *have* to be in front of a computer, hence whenever I'm in front of a computer now it's because I want to be.  But this promise can never be made because the proof will be in that puddin'.  That deliciously metal internet puddin'.  And in writing.

So, whatever.  We'll see when the next time is that I decide to update you on the lush life I'm leading as a performer/writer/whatever the fuck I want to do... and, a waitress.

(and drinking a fucking smoothie I made.)

Yes!  I am waiting tables again.  As a young lady who is going to be a whopping 35 years old in three weeks (a good 13 years older than the average age of a server I'm sure), my current day (night) job is shlepping Dutch-inspired bar food, strong gin cocktails, and fancy beers to the 21+ crowd in downtown St. Paul at a huge establishment called Amsterdam Bar & Hall.  By the by, you gotta read the high energy blog by my new Facebook buddy and co-worker, Brenda.  

I made the decision to quit my day job for many, many reasons.  One was that I was sick of sitting down for 8 hours a day.  I am a naturally energetic person (REALLY) and I felt that the four and a half years I had spent on my ass for half my life during that time had worn me down to the point that I had lost the Courtney of days of old.  Did I mention I'm pretty much middle-aged now?  Heh.  But seriously, my soul had been sucked out.  This wasn't because of my co-workers, who I had grown to love like family, or my boss, who is arguably one of the most supportive bosses I've ever had, most of the time.  It was just... being in front of a computer all day.  My interactions with nature have been much more frequent in the past two weeks since leaving that job.  

So anyway, I needed to be up and about.  I needed to be exercising, but the two days of yoga a week I was barely committing to wasn't cutting it.  I've put on about 20 pounds since moving to the land of cheese curds and meat raffles.  And I've lost 7 in the month and a half on my feet, running around in a very large amount of square-footage for 8+ hours, 4-5 days a week.  Of course, the best fries in the Twin Cities are the one step back for my two steps forward, but they're SO "DAM" GOOD.  (See what I did there?)  Anyway, it's working.  

To be continued...

I've Got A Crush On You: Episode 1

I think I fall in love with someone new, like, every other week. These people come into my life, whether they know it or not, and infuse me with drive and a renewed sense of purpose.

My latest, and the first profiled for this feature that I may or may not keep up with (to be determined), is a local actress, playwright, and historian (yup), Dawn Brodey.

I officially met Dawn a couple of weeks ago at the Bryant Lake Bowl when we were both involved in the Bill Clinton show of Salon Saloon. She presented a historical timeline piece on the controversial presidencies throughout U.S. History, ultimately positing that Clinton's Lewinsky scandal really wasn't so bad, in comparison with the Commander-In-Chief company he keeps. It was hilarious AND educational.

But I first discovered Dawn when I came out to visit the ex (and do Fringe) in August 2007 before I moved to the Twin Cities, he and I attended "We Gotta Bingo," one of those cheesy, interactive theatrical shows that gets suburbanites off the couch and "out on the town" to experience some "culture." I do not mean to be judgmental: there is something for everyone. And who am I to pick on this kind of entertainment anyway: I still have a day job that sucks my soul out. Dawn, with flaming burgundy hair and tattooed forearms, was clearly the coolest, punkest person in the cast... and clearly, she was A-OK with being involved in such a production. A production that Courtney-of-that-time cast off as artless and pandering. Maybe so. But Dawn was having fun with it, getting paid to be on stage, and - and perhaps this is me projecting - she was not taking herself so seriously that she couldn't do a show that made people I am way too quick to judge laugh and let go.

I remembered Dawn. I didn't really see much more of her afterward, nor was I looking, till I saw Facebook photos of her and another amazing actress about town, Mo Perry (another crush from before I started this blog), during a cross-country road trip on which they embarked together. Crush grew. (I did admit to her I had looked through these photos when we met. She responded with, "I would rather drive through Indiana than fly to some tropical locale" or something like that. I think I emphatically agreed with a dazed "Uh Huh." Wow, Court. Fountain of conversation. A geyser.)

Then there was Salon Saloon. She was on stage in a red and white-striped top and navy blue skirt like a sexy American flag, red lipstick, and earrings and bangles, CLASS all the way home. And her VOICE. Raspy, adorable, sexy, fun. Dawn seems like the kind of woman that never gets drunk or high and does or says things she regrets. It's okay if someday she ruins this image of herself to me because then that means we're partying together.

I also finally went to fellow Rockstar Storyteller Dave Mondy's quarterly BLB show, The Entertainment Machine, this past Sunday and there was Dawn again. I wasn't aware she was in this show, I wasn't sure she would recognize me from our meeting a few weeks prior in the same space, and I'm pretty sure she caught me staring at her on stage (she was on the "back line," not the focus of what was currently happening, so I "should have" been looking at whomever was talking... probably Dave). She looked amazing again! She was nautical American again! Cherry red lips and matching shoes! I was entranced and probably very creepy. Sigh.

Today I somehow stumbled upon her website (totally accidental, not stalking at all) and learned SHE LIVES ON A HOUSEBOAT. Thus sealing my utter girl-crush, seething envy, and desire to actually BE HER.

By the by, I texted The Leading Man right away and said, "Let's buy a houseboat on the Mississippi." "Okay" he texted back. AWESOME.

I Don't Know

"I Don't Know" always reminds me of my former-crush, present-performance colleague and buddy, Ben San Del's myspace page. Now it says he's "drawing a blank," but it used to just say "I don't know." And it cracked me up because I can hear Ben say it, with the deadpan of a not-yet-seasoned stand-up comic (at the time), but with a slight exasperation like his mom was asking again for the umpteenth time.

Or maybe that's just how I would say "I don't know."

I finally finished the third level of improvisational comedy classes at the Brave New Institute. I was extremely fortunate to have the fabulous, talented, and wise-beyond-her-years Lauren Anderson as my instructor. Lauren embodies one of the reasons I chose to study at BNI (aside from the fact that it was one of the only and seemingly most reputable long-form improv schools): the white light.

The White Light is, as explained in the Student Manual you receive upon your first BNI class, that space we pass through now and then where there is no thought, no identity, just purity, blankness. As an improviser, one passes through this space more often and if you're really good at your craft, you can go there very easily and return every day. It's a meditative space. You get it.

So Lauren has been talking to us about "I don't know." Her theory - and I regard it as the truth - is that we *do* know. When we say "I don't know," we're avoiding the answer for one reason or another. Specifically on stage in improvisation, you *know.* You always know what the other person on stage is talking about because that's how the scene progresses. Asking questions puts too much on your scene partner because you're making them do all the work by giving you the answers. Simply, the answers are already there; they're anything you want them to be.

It hit me last night that the biggest "I don't know" in my life that I'm aware of is the answer to the question, "What do I want to do with my life?" And already, as I finished typing that sentence, I totally know what the answer is.

I want to make art.
I want to encourage everyone else to make art.
I want to spread love, creativity, hope, and laughter.

Mainstream American culture, the one that's hardest to escape, really wants me to define this in the form of a vocation, and that's where I get hung up.

Because

I want to act
I want to draw
I want to play music
I want to make jokes
I want to teach
I want to improvise
I want to administrate
I want to run
I want to stretch
I want to travel
I want to make money
I want to be healthy
I want to collaborate
I want to perform

And in writing that list, I thought I was going to end it with "SEE? there's TOO MUCH I want to do." But I can do all that. But how to do it simply and fit it all in without stress? How to do it all and not have to have a day job? How can I love my life every minute of the day?

I don't know.

Yeah, that's bullshit too.

Just re-reading my 3 simple objectives (the first ones) makes me feel so much better about my life and my endeavors and my future. Because I think I have been living those 3 objectives; I have already achieved them on some level. But they're not destinations, they're Being and Doing. It's nice to know I've been doing it all along.

I better get rich and famous soon.

I have a vaguely ominous feeling sometimes that I might never have children. But then I remember that fertility technology is most likely growing at such a rate that there may not be a time in my life when I can't have children. Shoot, I might be able to transfer my consciousness into another body by the end of my time on Earth and if that happens, I might have a child when "I'm" 147. But right now, it's like, I have too much other stuff to do first.

However, I see stuff like this and feel like I gotta have a child (and I don't necessarily mean biologically; I should rephrase and say "raise a child," as I would love to adopt a gaggle of little humans I can program).

But seriously, this is a lovely 8 minutes of possibility:

"What Adults Can Learn From Kids"