The way it is

Wow. So I got my first bit of hate mail on FB; that’s a definitely mile pole. It was over the little shit who confronted a First Nation Elder in Washington. You’ve probably seen it. A Catholic boy (which means he’s a liar; the Catholic faith teaches it’s okay to lie all the time and then do penance on Sundays) claims he wasn’t being disrespectful. Dudes! If you can’t recognize that schwarmy smile on his face as being taunting, you can’t read human body language AT ALL. Sent off a reply, calling a cunt a cunt.

Hm. Seems the Universe is trying to get me angry. It was going on all day yesterday and here it is continuing. I mean…this person who left this tirade is NO ONE. Not a friend of mine, nothing. Just some random person who probably spends all their time hunting out anti-45 postings to leave such hateful shit for replies.

Yesterday…Gods!! I love my teachers but I HATE my fellow students. I’m now experiencing the mean girls’ approach of ‘pretend she doesn’t exist’. No responses to my greetings, no acknowledging me if I walk into the room. I sat alone during the break. One female joined me and we engaged in stilted conversation for a short time. Her Dutch is terrible, even tho she’s lived her twenty some years. She puts a ‘ah’ after every single word. Granted, the Dutch do that a lot and combined with their accent that often drops the last ‘n’ in a word so it sounds like a ‘ah’ even tho it’s not, I guess in a way it’s understandable. However, I have a very difficult time comprehending this woman because of that. Hell! I have a difficult time understanding everyone in the class; no one speaks as well as I. I sure as fuck don’t want to pick up incorrect pronunciation from them, nor do I want to learn their poor grammar. Besides, their conversation (when I’ve participated) is all along 2 lines: children, and problems with immigration. Nothing I can add to, nothing that interests me in the least. No culture, no books, no fucking films, nothing I may have the slightest interest in. And then they break off into their native languages, leaving me well out of it… Anyway. She sat, we said a couple of things back and forth. Ho, hum. Then another student sat down, ignoring me completely, and they began talking in whatever language was native to them. I fiddled with my phone, looking at the apps and wasting time so it didn’t seem like I felt that diss. At some point, the new woman said quickly to me: Oh! Sorry, Beeps. I didn’t respond. Why? She knew what the fuck she was doing, positioning her chair so I was cut out and switching immediately into a language I don’t know. This is what happens, and I hate them for it. Just fucking leave me alone, you know? I’ll bring a book and happily read. But this fake back and forth, like you’re gonna try to be nice to me or some such shit, and then just using it to diss me one more time as you exclude me entirely -? Fuck off.

… *sigh* See? Things are just riling me up left and right.

Deep breath.

The snow is finally here, falling with soft flakes on everything, coating it that whiter than white only virgin snow has. My injections are scheduled to be delivered this afternoon, so I need to hang out here. But I may get my snow shoes and this morning and go tromp outside. Just to do it. Tromping in snow is fun, especially when a warm room is close by.

Note: I’ve woken up in the middle of the night a few times over the last couple of days. I’m not looking at the clock; I find no reason to do that any more. I wake up coughing, unable to stop. Found that sitting up in bed helps, tho I’m exhausted when I do it. And… I’ve taken to saying: ‘please leave me alone’ when this happens. Oddly after saying that, I’m usually able to lay back down and stop coughing.

Haven’t been writing. Letting it all just sit as I recharge. But I may get back to it today while I wait for my injections.

Feel I should wait, too, for…something. A change in the ether. A different energy. Really don’t know why I’ve felt so damned angry lately, nor why I’ve reacted so much to stuff that a month ago I may have just passed by with an eye roll. My thoughts are laden with images of First Nation. I’ve always been pretty sure I had an attachment with such a spirit in my childhood home. It seems like this entity has found me again. …Yeah, I know how that sounds: nuts. I also know what I’ve been feeling. This is very, very familiar to me.

Thursday I see Dr T. I’ll mention my angry feelings and how easily I’m getting riled up. Nothing else; there are levels of honesty, and I’ve learned where I should draw the line with shrinks. They don’t need to know every thought. Besides, I don’t like discussing it. Only in writing. Not out loud; never out loud! I avoid that like the plague. Somehow, no matter how real the experience, speaking it out loud drains the words of every bit of impact. They fall flat, stilted, odd – no matter what the room or audience size. Nope. You wanna know about that side of me, you gotta read my stuff.

That’s just the way it is.


It’s Saturday

Internet problems. Is it our older equipment? The foggy drizzle that is so thick it always seems to screw up the WiFi signal? Our server? Our provider? Who the hell knows? Discussed the possibility of switching providers. My bro told me his friend did that and suffered from no internet access for over a month as the first provider cut him off the moment they received the notice but the new provider dithered around and didn’t hook him up for weeks on end. Neither of us wants to go thru that, and our fear over it happening ‘helped’ us decide to keep sticking it out with our current provider.

Managed to sign onto the theatre website, all set to change the pages and update the blog. But the internet problems drove me insane. My blog post went up with a picture but not the 300 words I’d sweated over for close to an hour. Everything froze up on my computer. In the end, I had to do a restart. Also found 3 new people had signed up for the newsletter; I’d only received notification of one. Two long messages out there, as well. I actually felt guilty for not checking the site over the holidays, which, considering how we’re getting dicked around by a few Dutch companies and their very laid-back approach to work, I find amusing.

Ah. Nothing like the Universe throwing you supporting evidence out of the effing blue. Found a BBC article this morning about British passive-aggressive communication. Guess where most in the theatre people learned English? You got it: they took a year of study in England. I’m dealing with double entendre and no-speak, for sure. That sets my teeth on edge. I end up dissecting everything said and done during every encounter, wondering if I’m missing some hidden message.

Here’s something I’m learning, and I find it worthy to note about Dutch society. The people here have a reputation for bluntness in public. They’ll up front call you out on your behavior, scolding you and taking you to task. However, there is an inverse equation at work. That only holds true when they don’t know you, when it’s simply a group of strangers thrown together in some circumstance. The more the Dutch know you, the less up front and blunt they’ll be. As you gain entrance into their acquaintance and friend circles, they become far less forthright and tend to use allegory and ‘communication pussy-footing’ (as I call it) to get a point across. This is absolutely opposite of my instincts. I tend to be more circumspect with strangers, and I grow more and more frank and blunt with people as I learn to trust them.

*sigh* Great that I figured that out. Now I just have to figure out how to navigate through it.

Went out to eat with my bro. It was a good break for me; as we walked through the mall, just taking it easy, I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I’d left the house. Picked up some San Pelligrino at AH, the only store in the area that carries that brand. Nothing really exciting, other than the fact I got fresh air into my lungs for a few hours.

The weather continues being grey and drizzly. Wind warnings out for today. Lately I’ve had the feeling that the weather is holding its breath while I write. No idea where the end to this story is, so no guess as to how long it may take me. Sorry, Rotterdam. But if you really think about it, we need the rain.

Still having headaches every day. I think it’s eye strain, but I’m not sure. May need to make an appointment with the doc.

…Well. My bro’s at the comic shop. I have a film recorded that I’d like to watch. The house is relatively clean, so I don’t even feel the push to start work.

It’s Saturday, people.

I’m looking for that 80%

Eleven hours later, and here I am again. Sleep did not help my disheartened feeling.

I was happy to find on my schedule that we’re doing Act 1 tonight. Thank the Goddess! An Act in which NO ONE is an unhappy camper, in which everyone is enjoying the story, the tension, their roles. I can feel good again tonight, watching the scenes unfold as I wrote them.

And maybe L will spill something about D.

Stayed up late last night. Riled and angry. Took several hours for me to calm down enough I felt I could sleep. Been reminding myself the whole time the complaints are only coming from 20% of the cast; they just happen to be a very LOUD 20%. 80% of the actors love the story and have zero problems with the dialogue I wrote. *sigh* But when that 20% keeps going and doesn’t let up, I feel discouraged because no one from the remaining 80% speaks up to counter the negativity.

Damn it. Why is it that I always find myself under attack when I try to do something like this? I know only strong personalities would attract this much attention, but… I just feel like it’s out of proportion. I get these people ALL THE TIME. It’s always extremely personal and extremely angry. And they always continue to try and sabotage the project by needling at those that stay with me. This is a set-up for me from the age of 6. It has ALWAYS happened, no matter what I do or try.

Wishing my appointment with Dr T was this week. I’m ready to lay it all out for him, declare my incompetence and ignorance, and ask him what he thinks I should do. I can’t think of an alternative I haven’t tried. And, damn it! I need some support.

My bro has recognized my frustration and gone into super mode. Supportive, listening, patient. Got up this morning to find not only the dishes done but the sink scrubbed out. He had two earfuls last night about the group. I’m very grateful to him and don’t want to keep harping on about it. He shouldn’t have to deal with that.

Feels like I’m lying. I’m not pleased with what happened last night. But I had to keep that smiling and happy face on it. I said nothing about G’s wooden delivery first time through. I put up with her complaints and digs without returning the barbs. I agreed to more dialogue changes because my words ‘didn’t make sense’ the way they were written. Thru it all, I kept smiling. Didn’t feel like it. I wanted to complain myself, call G out on her fucking shit. I feel best when I confront emotional problems head on. This pussy footing around shit doesn’t feel right. Confront, communication, close. Simple. Okay, so usually when I get to the close part it means the other person walks away in a huff. But at least I’m not left sitting on a bunch of crap I don’t want to feel – while simultaneously feeling like I can’t share any of it with anyone. What I’m doing this time is different. Something new. Something I haven’t tried before.

It’s really difficult.

Am I earning gold stars from the Universe for trying this much? I sure as fuck hope so.

Skipped school yesterday. Good choice. I’d no sooner sent the text to my teacher than my phone started going off. Nine messages before I could even open the fucking thing up. Now, ask me if the director’s six hours of notice got anyone interested in helping back stage to come to rehearsal. We waited; no one showed. I’m quickly beginning to feel like we’ll get no one as usual. This lack of cohesiveness and purpose, this kind of flopping around limply with their schedule, is killing our chances of finding people who want to work with us. The only reason I stuck out all the shit in the first year was because I was very focused on joining and getting active with acting again. But the group didn’t make it easy: rehearsals changed last minute with no word to me, rooms moved so I couldn’t find them for rehearsals. I don’t expect to find another me out there, someone with so much desire and drive they see that kind of shit through.

Beginning to see/imagine back stage. Everyone turning to me for everything because we have zero help. I can’t do 9 people’s make-up, track the props and wardrobe, do video, and act. It’s too much, and they shouldn’t even ask it of me. But that’s what it’s shaping up to be.


Have to find some positivity to blog about today. Barely took any pics because I was acting the whole time, and I checked my account: for some reason, the pics I did take didn’t go to my Google account so now I can’t access them. *sigh*

My brother suggested I try writing to Clive Barker. It’s a one in a million shot, I know, but maybe pouring my heart out to him will help. I feel like we’re writing in the same genre, and I’m following in his footsteps by taking my horror ideas to the stage. It would be wonderful to get a few words of encouragement from him.

Reminders: I am not a playwright of Shakespearean proportions. I do not write dry, introspective pieces. My scripts are different; they are based in the narrative and action. More akin to film scripts than a typical play. Theatre snobs won’t like that and won’t like me because of it. Brush that shit off. That’s the 20% right there.

I’m looking for that 80%.

I know when people hate me

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly…

Good: Reminding myself all is over with D. Won’t have to see or deal with her bitchiness again. If the play fails it won’t be because of her underhanded sabotage. Also pleased to find my intuition vindicated. I knew it was personal, and it was. Even the director can’t really negate that one. So often people deny the truth and then I think I’m crazy. Here it is: I’m not crazy. I got it right. Absolutely right.

Bad: Still haven’t heard a peep from the director. I know he’s busy this week. But…it’s not helping my guilt over simply standing up for myself. My bro won’t let me discuss what happened. I tried, last night. He just got angry and I had to change the subject. So I feel very unfinished. I don’t have the support I need right now, the silence is making me paranoid, and I can’t seem to fully let go of what happened. Keep replaying it in my head. Trying to focus on the whole ‘I wouldn’t lurch you!’ because it’s so utterly stupid it makes me smile even thru the paranoia and worry. I’d like someone to say: You didn’t do badly. You kept your cool, I saw the disses and the eye rolls and heard how she was treating you. You did okay. I’m telling myself that, but… I could really use someone from the outside saying it to me.

Ugly: Oh, the revenge fantasies! I did not let loose on her last night, but I am letting loose on her in my imagination. Cutting words and jabs that break her nose. I’ve even imagined seeing her gutted and laying there with her bowels hanging out (and no, I didn’t do the gutting in that fantasy, I just enjoyed seeing her suffer). *sigh* I catch myself thinking that way, then bring back the ‘lurch’ misuse to try and diffuse it. Not really easy. I’m still angry over what she said and how she said it. And I’m still worried about the other actors and their reaction. Particularly M, who got kind of close to D. I think she’s gonna be the most set against me now. I also know she’ll be the one who hears the most vitriolic comments from D. Trying to keep an eye on that without being too obvious.

I feel kinda down. It was really hard for me to do, and now I feel like the rug’s been pulled from under me.

…Okay, more than a little down. Damned depressed. Part of me just wants to crawl back to bed and sleep for a few days. Ignore everyone and everything. Maybe it will just go away by itself.

Yeah, right.

Now I face the challenge of blogging for the group. I’ve gotta come up with something positive even tho I feel so damned down. Not easy, tho the rehearsal went well. What I want to do is just say it all: D is gone because of artistic differences. She didn’t like the story and couldn’t follow directions. She was rude to our playwright and negative towards the entire production. We’re glad she’s gone.

But, that’s not what I’ll put out there. I’ll hype the actors who’ve stuck it out and talk about how good the scene was last night. It’ll rankle D more if I just cut her out without comment. She wants the fight to continue, so don’t give it to her. Rise above it, at least in public.

In private, it’s gonna take me more time to let go of my anger. She doesn’t need to know that.

Happy to look at my schedule and find I’ve an appointment with Dr T on the 6th of December. Thank the Goddess; someone I can talk to! I hope he can help me find the strength to let go of it all. At least I’ll be able to speak my mind without fear of being snapped at or told I’ve gone too far.

…And you know, that’s a little tidbit that’s really biting at my ass today. D got away with eye rolls and dissing me AND the story, but as soon as I said, ‘I really don’t want you in the production if that’s the way you feel,’ M had to speak up with a: ‘Okay, everybody take a breath before we say something we can’t take back’. All I did was match D’s bluntness and honesty, but that was too far. Apparently in M’s eyes, D was justified in blaming me and belittling me. Which is precisely what I’m now worried about: that M is gonna become a problem because she’s gonna side with D against me. I don’t know why. Why is it that my stating I don’t want D on the production ‘too far’ and creating a situation where ‘everyone needs to step back and take a breath’. You don’t think I merited that when she dissed my work? You don’t think you should have said something to D when she rolled her eyes at me for the third time?

I feel sorely used. And needlessly blamed.

Why, exactly, was my asking D to play a government agent like a government agent too controlling? Never did get an answer on that because there wasn’t one. It was just the excuse. D would have nailed me for the next thing if it hadn’t been that. She was there to be disruptive. To ruin the play and undermine me. I don’t think it began that way, but she quickly made it her priority.

I’ve run into people like this before and I don’t know what to do with them. I don’t know WHY they have to be such assholes. I do what I do because I’m asked to. Somehow I think D blames me for one of the other actors being axed from the play. That wasn’t my decision at all; that came from the director. But she hated me, so I got blamed.

Like I said: no more doubting my spidey-sense on this shit. I know when people hate me.

One. week.

I should probably put a big red circle around yesterday’s date in my calendar; here’s where it began. Yep. I got back to the gym. Weak as shit, just trying to get moving right now. The quads in my legs are paramount. Lately I’ve taken a few running steps up stairs and felt that weird and awful pull in my right knee that says it’s straining. I really don’t want more knee problems. So build those muscles. Keep ’em strong.

Another rehearsal tonight. Lucky for me, it’s Act 3 which means I’m not in it. I’m there to sit, observe, help when and if I can. Must begin running thru my own lines. I think tomorrow I’m expected to start going off script…

Boy! Did I hit with the flyer. Everyone who sees it is pulled into it. What’s this? Oooo! And then they scan the QR code and start reading. Stats on the group’s website are up 23% over last week. Fan-bloody-tastic! While I want everyone to sign up for the newsletter, my first job is just to get the damned word out. I never again want to hear that we’re the best kept secret in the Netherlands.

T’s book is officially out and for sale – in Dutch. He’s so proud. And he should be! It looks really sharp and the sheer amount of work he’s put into the translation should earn him a gold star from someone.

Continuing having problems with my email connected to my bro’s company. Somehow we got blacklisted from our own site. Our new server sorted it out, and in came over 200 emails. Neither my bro nor I are happy with our new server. Compared to the last, they’re really not on the ball. But they’re here, in NL, and the annual cost is about 25% of what we were paying. For many reasons, this new server is the best choice right now. But as soon as we get some money in we might look for somewhere new.

Out of boredom, I took my Dutch homework to bed. Read the short story and began on the exercises. Have a feeling I’ll once again hear from my fellow students that they found it difficult. Me? It takes time to go through it and look through all my options, but I’m not finding it difficult. These are words I have, in a story. The exercises just ask me to use the story’s words in new sentences. Easy-peasy, or as they say in Dutch, ‘het staat als een paal boven het water’ (it stands like a pole above the water, a saying for it’s blatantly obvious). See? I can even use Dutch idioms in casual conversation. I’m getting better.

Trying to keep my ear open and listen for a time period when the house is quietest so I can record in the lines I need to do. The downstairs neighbor often plays loud music during the afternoon, and there are still workmen tinkering in places. Thinking I may just set my alarm, get up at 3 in the morning, turn on the computer, and record the lines then. It’ll be quiet; I can guarantee that! And…hm. Maybe I’ll even get a new and interesting delivery out of myself.

Had a good, long laugh at the director the other day. He gave the actors some instructions; wanted one of them to really engage in some horseplay. He asked one actor to hit the other on the back hard enough to throw him off balance, and then proceeded to run the scene several times in a row. I mentioned directors who put actors into dangerous and frightening conditions in order to keep them in the mood and get what they want on camera. The director looked me square in the eyes, smiled in a devilish manner, and said ‘Yep.’ He’d do that. And, in some ways, so would I. I’m willing to get bruises, bumps, and cuts. I’m willing to go that extra mile for a role.

Hell! I want to.

I guess it’s a 3 a.m. recording session for me…

At least the wet weather has blown itself out. For now. I’ve sunny skies outside and I find that heartening this morning. Maybe I’ll just go for a walk in the sunshine. Clouds are supposed to come back by this evening. Feels too long since I’ve felt sunshine on me.

Keeping up on juice and hand washing and everything I can do to keep myself healthy. I feel tired a lot. No big surprise; either my body is going or my head is. I feel like I’m holding a stallion back. Like I’m in the starting box of a big race and the horse I’m on is straining to take off and run. Letting the horse run isn’t wise. Holding him back is difficult and tiring.

One. more. week. Then Dr T will give me more meds and hopefully this will ease off.

Pleased to find I’m pretty comfortable talking about my mental health issues with the director. I use ‘shrink’ rather than doctor and kind of make fun of myself when I mention it – one of my big defense mechanisms. But the director is listening to me. He asked me on Tuesday if I was still doing okay. I told him I’m going a bit fast and I want the med that’s supposed to stabilize me upped. He doesn’t give me much feedback on any of it, just lets me say it out loud without judgement. That helps. Told the director I’m strung out, feeling like I’ve been going on nicotine and caffeine. Did not say it’s rather like the day after a cocaine binge – no need to admit to all my horrible past at once – tho it does feel like that. But the only upper I’ve been on (other than my paltry few cups of coffee in the mornings) is adrenaline. This is my version of mania.

Oh! And the venue we’ll be using has video projection capabilities and we can do it at no extra cost. I have the camera. My schedule might become tighter still…

One. week.

Little packets

Life is being portioned out to me in little packets.

My computer can only do so much. After a few hours, it seems to clog down and I can’t access anything. Well… I guess those out-of-date notices are finally coming to fruition.

I ask three questions and get an answer to one. Move forward, stop. Wait. Honestly, it’s like I’m some token on a game board getting moved ahead by a dice toss. I never know where I’ll land, or what I’ll need to do next. Thank the Goddess I can multi-task!

J’s health scare was a false alarm. I’m glad beyond glad. We’ve taken time to catch up with each other, as we do every few months. I miss him…

Down the rabbit hole. That’s what I’m going to title my autobiography. And yesterday, it happened again: I wrote. Created. Became possessed. Writing has always been a thing with me, but the last year I’ve been on a new level. Not just with what I write, but how I write. I register nothing outside of the story. As I said to J this morning in my note, if the house caught fire my bro would have to drag me out because I wouldn’t notice it. And who is this clipped language, tight action writer I’ve become? Half the time I don’t even recognize the style. This is MK, my new persona. She’s intimidating. Unbelievably brief and tight. I ramble; she doesn’t. I go with the flow; she’s extremely directed. Yesterday, she began (once again) the story of ‘the girl’. It was the opening line that haunted me and drove me to it:

The threats came wrapped in toilet paper and egg.

Again: true. MK can’t write anything that isn’t true on some level. This particular incident happened when I was 13 or 14. My parent’s house was egged and TP’d, and a threat against my life was left in our mailbox. From what I understand, my parents stayed up most of the night with the police and cleaning things up. There was no evidence of it the next morning, when I got up, and they didn’t tell me for years. Of course, they didn’t have to tell me. School was Hell on earth. Not because of the academic load, but because of the other students. I was always under threat. I only ever told once, when I was 10. The backlash of that incident taught me never to say anything to any adult ever again. …From the opening line, the narrative just continued. And continued. It’s still not done.

But I think, maybe, that whatever this is – the story of the girl – it will only be Dr T who reads it. I don’t know that there’s a market for it. There are specific memories in there that Dr T should know about, but… Hm. I’m not even sure I’d want it released anywhere. Maybe out here. As a blog post.

Can’t say I’ve ever quite been able to shake the feeling that no matter what name I use, if I write too close to my childhood reality someone from my family will discover it. It’s probably nothing I should worry about. None of them are readers, for one. And all are in such denial that I don’t know if they really remember what happened. Plus, it’s from my point of view, which none of them have ever acknowledged. I mean…Like they’d recognize my thoughts! Ha! Fat chance. Still. I can’t shake the feeling. The fear. Because I know what would happen: they’d publicly defame me. All those familial accusations would be published, in print, and in my face. That’s how low they are. And that’s why I’ve always planned to put gag orders on them the moment I can afford it.

hate my DNA relations. What they are, what they believe, how they act. I hope, someday, MK will give me some distance and release. I now know one thing: if she can put it into words, she’s made progress. I couldn’t use words to describe what happened. I dreamt over and over of having no mouth, or a sewn up mouth, or just no voice. It was horrible. More horrible than the dreams of rape, than the dreams of being chased, of being out of control. Being unable to speak was the most terrifying.

MK takes those fears and puts them into sellable packets. Her ability to capture fear on the page is stunning.

I couldn’t do it.

But she’s giving it to me: those little packets of life. Of memory. Wrapped up and ready to consume. Once she’s done putting her spin on things, I can deal with it. It gives me shivers, and sometimes her blunt honesty makes me shake and tremble so much I have to stand up and walk away, but then it’s done. Over. On the page and out of me.

Those little packets.

Bipolar II

We said we’d treat this as we go. And this isn’t a new thing in your life; it’s been going on a long time. (I nodded.) But it’s going to mean extra medication…

I’d calmed down dramatically by 13:45. If Dr. T had seen me at 11 am, pacing the house, wide-eyed, and talking a mile a minute to myself, he might have prescribed a higher dosage. I’m glad he didn’t.

Quetiapine tablets. Very low dosage of 50mg. Dr. T told me that’s nothing on paper, and most people start at 150mg, but he’s seen some good results from very small doses and considering all the meds I’m on for my RA he wanted to start me out small. I’m on board with that. This increases risks on my kidneys, and means even more blood tests. Maybe they should just insert a shunt into my arm; it would save me scar tissue.

But I was honest. And glad he understood me: I’ve nine months to go on this production and if I keep on obsessing like I’ve been doing this past week I’ll be in hospital in four months.

These are time-released pills, so I have to take them at the same time every day. Dr. T said to take them at night because they might make me drowsy. Decided to move my schedule around a bit so I can take them at 11pm. I’ll be off stage at that point, no matter when the play begins. It means staying up a bit later from now on, whether or not I’m on stage, but only by half an hour. Picking the pills up today.

More determined than ever to get my ass back onto my routine. You don’t have to remind me that regular exercise will help me maintain balance; I know. And I know I’ve been lax on myself. Now that I’ve a wee bit of help to break my obsessing, I’ll be right back on it.

I want the 50mg to work for me.

Here it is Friday and I still haven’t made a start on those homework letters I’m supposed to write. Guess with only two weeks of classes left I’m not that worried about it. Wish I was a bit more concerned about it. Wish I had that impetus to push myself with Dutch. It’ll be harder than ever to maintain over the summer. Oh, there’s always my Dutch films and every advert on tv is in Dutch, but it isn’t the same as talking to someone. I recall I made a vow to find a language cafe to go to every week. Where’s that resolve? Easily answered: out the window, bloody and bruised. That’s where it is.

Haven’t done my weekly house cleaning for a while, and the place shows it. Well, good test for the new pills: slow me down enough to do it. A little toilet scrubbing should remove any last stains of delusions of grandeur. I always say, you can’t be a king or queen while scrubbing out a toilet, and that’s true. It just brings you down to that base level: cleaning up shit. There’s no way to feel grandiose while doing that. No. bleeding. way.

Blood, bleeding, bruised…my language reflects my obsession even when I’m trying to not talk about it.

So talk about it.

Roughed in a playbill. Half-sheet, black & white, just like I said. It looks good to me. The joke I’m telling everyone is the little game I played with director, teasing him with my made-up bruises. It’s going over well, and people are showing an interest both because of what I’m talking about and my sense of humor. Will probably need to ask the director about read-thru dates. As usual, he was on top of it enough to create a Doodle sign-up page, but he hasn’t declared this or that date to be the one. Or maybe he has on Snapchat; that’s the app all the Dutch are using – except me, of course. My phone can’t handle it. [You want Snapchat?! You can’t handle Snapchat! (Sorry, I just had to do that.)] Anyhoo. Will need to follow up with that.

My obsession has not translated into going thru production notes. Yet. I’ve created this mountain of uphill crap in my mind: Oh, Gods! What a drag! It’ll take so long and be so fucking boring! Well, it will take some time and it won’t be the most enjoyable thing to do, that’s true. But it won’t take as long as my head now thinks it will. I feel like my mother, telling myself that. A truism the younger version of me just stubbornly refuses to believe, even tho she has a sense of precisely how true it is. Gods, I’m an obstinate cuss.

Have researched creating fake wounds. Saw a couple of great vids using only paper tissue, glue, and make-up. Still would like to visit the theatrical supply shop here in Rotterdam, but I’m also thinking on creating my own look. A lot will depend on the shop’s pre-made wounds. The on-line tissue and make-up wounds looked a lot better in the vids that the pic the shop showed me of their fake stuff. My problem is that creating my own wounds means I have to do it before the show starts and have them under my clothing the entire time. So I plan the full gambit: create the look, then wrap it up under gauze and wear it around the house for the day. Pull the gauze off in the evening and see if it survived. I’ll only have 5-8 minutes to do it all: bruising, wardrobe change into pre-torn clothes, blood. So it’s got to be quick and easy.

…As for finally being able to put ‘bipolar’ back into my tags because it’s on a sheet of paper… Well, I’m not surprised. Nor shocked. Nor much of anything, other than grateful to Dr. T for listening to me and for making it easy to be honest with him.

I’ve always known what I am.

All the world’s a stage

Someone who sees 5 a.m. as a regular thing shouldn’t have to set an alarm.

Yeah, I replied, but it’s been a long time since I woke up at 5 a.m….

And so I cursed myself. Hello, 5 a.m. You’re as grey and quiet as I remember.

Leaving the house today before my brother even gets out of bed. Have to be downtown at my rheumatology appointment by 8:45. Ho-hum. Go there, wait, see my doctor, get a new prescription for my meds, leave. Figure I’ll nap this afternoon.

Tonight’s the first audition. Don’t really expect many people; they called it quick and their advertising leaves loads to be desired. Had a message from the director. He’d like to meet early, to discuss the roles and go over things. Cool; I was thinking the same thing. And, thanks, because he assured me he really wants to do this by saying if we don’t get enough people with the first two auditions, he’ll call a third. My plan is to print up some notices and get them around to the libraries for the second audition. Been scouring the web for some sort of theatre call site. Found stuff for films, stuff for Dutch productions – all in Amsterdam. Nothing I felt was appropriate for putting out an English notice for a non-paid role. Haven’t heard from my film buddies, other than getting a thumbs up on the post. So far: two people have said on FB that they’re coming tonight. Two. I expect more to show, but…two. It might be a very early evening.

Well, I’m used to working hard on productions. Can’t quite figure out why the group doesn’t have certain things in place, like automatic notifications about auditions. But maybe they’ve been waiting for someone like me. Someone with the drive and the interest, someone who just does it. And I get it! I wasn’t willing to do this last year, for someone else’s script. But mine? Oh, honey! I’ll walk over hot coals to get this done – or close enough. Besides, it’s a labor of love.

Began working on a LinkedIn page. I don’t really expect to get anything from it. LinkedIn is for computer programmers and shit, not playwrights. Still. It’s my legit social page. Got stumped on the ‘summary’ section. Summary? I’ve only been at this for…what, a year and a half? Two years, max. As far as the theatre industry is concerned, I’m a bloody virgin. Not sure what to say yet. Hey, yeah, I’ve got loads of stuff the industry has rejected. Finally getting a production done; look at me! Ugh.

I’ll figure it out.

Meanwhile, I’m just happy. Happy to know my words are appreciated. Happy to say I’m a real playwright. Gotta keep reminding myself of it.

*sigh* Thinking I might have to go and get my eyes checked. Told my bro I think it might be time for bifocals. Not happy about the idea of spending more money – again. But these headaches are a bitch, and I can tell eye strain is part of it.

…My bro made a comment the other day about me hating men. Didn’t know what to say to that. My first impulse was to defend myself. But I just stopped, and thought about that. Thought about what my feminists rants sound like from the outside. I can see why someone might think that. I am very angry at men as a whole. I am very upset over the way women are treated like second class citizens (if even that well). And I am vocal about it because, baby, there’s plenty to be vocal about. But if push comes to shove I’ll choose men over women almost every time. I’m more comfortable in the company of men. I can just be me – the scruffy tomboy. The woman who’s ‘not like any other woman’. I feel more judged in the company of women. I see them look at my clothes, or my hair, or my lack of make-up or hangnails, and I feel it. It’s a combination of pity and disgust. If only she’d take some time with herself, try a little harder. She could be so pretty. Men, on the whole, don’t care. If you’re in a place with lots of people, men might care. They might want you to be attractive so other men get jealous of what they’ve “got”. But I have never met a man who confessed to liking to kiss a face full of make-up. Most men I’ve known (friends and lovers) have professed to preferring a woman in no make-up. It’s the women who think I should be doing my eyes, wearing lipstick, high heels, whatever. That’s where the real judgement comes from. Underneath it all: compete. Compete with me for men’s attention. Try and get the most desirable mate. Dude, I don’t want to compete with you. And I don’t think women have to be that way.

Yeah, yeah. I know. Show us the way. Be the model for it. Don’t think about it; just do it. No problem. This is my nature. It’s the prejudice and judgment I don’t like. So I keep pointing those things out. That’s sexist because… or Gee, they’re acting like that’s something new just because it’s a man saying it… All of it true. All of it building this reputation for me as a man-hater. Problem is, I do have a lot of anger over this. I am frustrated that so many people don’t see the same things I do. That comes out, over and over, in my statements.

…Why is all this coming out this morning?

Maybe it all has to do with the roles we play. The roles I’ve written, the roles I’ve played myself – and yes, I’ll admit to (in my 20s) playing the damsel in distress in order to get some guy to do something for me, like change a flat tyre.

I’m not a fan of Shakespeare. But he did get some things right.

All the world’s a stage.

Own it

Been wondering if the the things I’ve been blowing out of my nose get up out of the trash and walk around when I’m not looking. You know; like that Doctor Who adipose episode. Gross, but…I swear I’ve seen some fully developed things when I’ve built up enough courage to look after blowing.

Joking aside, I’m healing. Slowly.

Headaches are finally easing off, too. Seems to have been a combination of sinus pressure and eye strain. Had to stay off the computer all week, other than fast email checks. No gaming. Haven’t really missed it; the cough medicine I’m taking knocks me out.

With the latest ‘gods, am I gonna die this time?’ cold finally going away, I’m able to think again. And my thoughts are lovely, because I’m a real playwright. 🙂

That’s my new mantra. I’m a playwright. A real playwright. My work is finally being appreciated. Just letting that knowledge sit inside me. It’s very different to feel so good about myself and my work. It’s very difficult to take everything in and not discount it one way or another. I don’t want to jump around or draw a lot of attention to myself. I just want to own it.

I want to own that I’m attractive. Ditch all that ‘I’m so ugly’ bullshit that I’ve hid behind all my life. Ditch my complaints over my ‘huge ass’ which is really quite tight and appealing. I want to ditch the ‘I’m so stupid and dumb’ stuff, too. I’m neither. A bit naive, maybe…okay: more than a bit naive and it’s definitely not a maybe. Still. That doesn’t make me dumb or stupid. It just makes me innocent and trusting. So what if that’s an oddity in this world, especially at my age? Just one more thing that makes me unique. Own it, girl: you be smart. Take it in. Most of all: I can write a damned good story. Piles of rejections from every corner of the industry do NOT negate that fact. The truth lies in the eyes of my audience, those that read my work. I’m gonna stop dissing other people’s opinion of me and start saying ‘thanks’. Just ‘thanks’. No justification, no explanations. Acknowledge it. Own it.

Dreams have become fragmented. Neon colored, bright – memorable in pictures but not in content. All I can say for sure is: no, I’m still not dreaming in Dutch.

Auditions have finally been called. Not thrilled to find the first date is set for this Tuesday, only a couple of days away. Have another date set, a week off. Hoping my film posse can make that one; I asked the director for some lead time so they could make it and he didn’t give me much. As my bro keeps telling me: not my problem. I am the writer, not the director. Also not thrilled to find the notice difficult to spot on the FB page, an old photo from last year’s production used to promote it, and the title of simply ‘auditions’ with no word of the play or what to expect. Hm. Then again, as I mused to my bro, perhaps the director is set on the core group doing this. It’s a bit more challenging to the actors: give me fear, give me rage, let loose with it. Some of these ‘actors’ are really uptight (makes me wonder if that’s why they try their hands at acting). Happy to find the director wants me by his side during the selection process. Tee-hee!! I get to sit there and see everyone. Very jazzed about that. And honestly, I already know pretty much how it will go down. I wrote the damned thing just for this reason: I watched the group over two years, mapping their personalities and their work. I saw how newbies were reluctant to join the group due to their – erm, shall we say relaxed attitude towards productions. I know who’s gonna be in it from the core group: L and J, two core female members and decent actors; and M and E, two core male actors who can definitely do the job. I’ve already said I wrote a part for me, and I did. Add me in, and that leaves one female and three males to find. The director can always step into a role if needed. And yes, I even wrote a few roles that don’t need much from the actors so I feel confident taking on a few newbies. In my head, we’re looking for one female and two males. I’m interested to find out who comes to the auditions. Already heard the people who attended the reading were asking about it. Might we actually have more people than we generally do? Man! That would be uber cool!

And…*sigh* There’s this other theatre group. A bit of a break-away from our group. They’re based up in Den Haag, and run by a director/writer…A director/writer I don’t have much respect for. And they’re going to bleeding Italy with one of their productions. Italy. I mean… Okay, I’m jealous. Envious. Wanting similar for my work, because I know it’s better than his. The group I work with has already mentioned a few possibilities: festivals in other countries we could apply for grants to attend. This is the script I want to do that with. I want to to take it to these fests. At least one, please. Let’s really do this.

It’s a big ask. Coordinating 10 people on a trip like that. Wading thru all the Dutch paperwork. I can’t do it alone. I can’t do any of it, other than possible help on coordination (like finding accommodations). But I want us to try.

I gotta put it out there.

Own it.

When will I learn?

My brother began shoving decongestants down my throat yesterday. I’m sick from these allergies, and I think you are, too. Sure enough. Stuff began to drain out of my head. I was so knocked out I spent most of the afternoon sleeping in front of the tv. Snot, coughing, drainage…it’s a fun ol’ time in the household lately.

But DAMN! I shut myself down too fast. I’m not listening to my body. He knew I was sick before I did?!? Holy Hell, I’m off track with myself.

As usual, I’m just out of it. Never really been able to concentrate while I’m ill. When I finally admit to being sick I’m so sick all I can really do is sleep, eat, and drink juice. The grand trifecta of health.

Woke up to see the winner of Eurovision plastered all over the news. Didn’t watch last night; see above for my reason. Gods, they’re letting themselves into the shit next year, aren’t they? Have to say, I can’t support it. Especially after the comment from the winner. Might actually write to the head of the NL Eurovision board and ask them not to go. I don’t believe Israel’s rhetoric any more than I believe the rhetoric from the states. And I don’t trust that it won’t turn into a horrible situation, either with severe political backlash or some sort of attack to prove a point. Nope. Wouldn’t touch that with a twenty foot pole.

Been trying to get my way thru my homework. Lucky for me, the homework isn’t that tough. Back to simple verb conjugation. It’s easy to move on, try to learn other stuff, but it’s important we keep working what we already should know. Been a few months since we’ve had this type of homework. And all the advanced grammar rules are mixing with the basics in my head now: is it a T on the end of that word, or a D? Does it get a “ge-” prefix, or is it one of those pesky irregular verbs? Good to go back and re-work this stuff. If I get 100% on it I’ll feel like I can really move on. It’s in my brain, cemented, correct. If not…well…my teachers have hundreds of more exercises like this one.

Might ditch Beedle the Bard and move onto another book. It’s a step up in reading level, and I’m down to “So and so did something to this thing, and then that happened”. Getting the gist, but not all. Some sentences are just too far beyond me. I don’t recognize one bleeding word in those damn things. Others are simpler. And, nod to myself, I caught another name change and this time got the joke of it. But I’ll need to hang onto this book, and try it again later. It goes on the ‘work on this’ pile.

Here it is mid-May and still no word on the theatre production. I feel like I can’t prod the director again. Thought he was clear in stating ‘after the holidays’, but then I realized May is littered with Dutch holidays, so it might actually end up being the end of the month. I just hope once we get working everyone shows a bit of enthusiasm for the story. I’m beginning to feel like they think my work isn’t worth putting time into, that they feel it’s ‘just her story’ so they can slap it together haphazardly and it won’t matter. Telling myself that’s just my paranoia and bad experiences; it’s not happening this time. Also reminding myself that I held a room full of Dutch people spellbound just by reading one of my stories aloud; anything up on that will be just fine. It’s a strong idea. Even if it gets flipped by performances into the black comedy range, my core message still comes across.

Gonna try to get a shower in today. Nap, because I’m already feeling tired again. See if I can worm my way thru the rest of my homework, even if I do make mistakes. Just get something in on every blank spot. …Gods, I’m so bleeding tired.

Guess it’s a good thing it’s Sunday. A day you can sleep away and never feel too guilty over; it’s Sunday, for pete’s sake! Nothing’s really open and the focus is all on tomorrow. It’s a no-day. A day you catch up on whatever you didn’t finish during the week.

The only thing I feel up to ‘catching up on’ is my health. I’ve allowed my focus to shift off taking care of myself, and I fell ill.

There’s only one thing that matters in all of this: me. Take care of me, and the rest will fall into place. Take care of me, and I can see it through.

*sigh* One step forward, two steps back. When will I learn?