Just one more

It was three, not two. Three humans showed up for auditions last night. I guess I should be happy we snagged a whole other person to come in. Happy enough to say the three that did show were decent, and we’ll probably use them all in the production.

Ah, man…it was cool to sit in the back of the room with the director, like the cool kids. It was cool to give the text to the actors and go out for a smoke while they rehearsed. It was cool to see them get through my words, interpret my directions. And it was cool to see and hear their enthusiasm. My play. My script.

Lots to learn and accept, tho. I heard some lines delivered absolutely opposite to the way I wrote them. I just thought, man! how can you screw up the delivery of that line? But…let it go. This is where it begins to breathe. The director was helpful, pointing out that he finds it a good idea to let people go and do there thing first whether or not it’s good. That way, they feel like their creativity isn’t stifled. I saw that in action, and it worked well.

Hashed out role ideas with the director. We both want to see everyone, give everyone a chance. But knowing some of the actors coming in, we’re already honing ideas. We know, for instance, that the two females coming in next week are both solid performers and either could do any of the roles in the script. We know the scope of one of the male actors who’s always around, and narrowing down the role he can play.

Ugh…okay. And I felt a tug at my heartstrings when roles were discussed. I guess I really do want to play in this, tho I’m also very firm with my decision that I’d like to give everyone a chance. I had this moment of realization: shot forward after a performance, seeing the small venue and small audience. Heard the applause, saw the reaction. The usual reaction: the audience tends to react to the actors more than the writer. Someone in the crowd might say ‘It was a good story!’ but that’ll only be the one. The rest will be saying things like ‘You did so well!’ or ‘I really liked it!’. Their comments will not come to me. Trying to mentally prep myself for that, tho I think it might end up being like the whole role thing – I’ll do my best to say it’s all okay, and I’m okay with it, and expect nothing more, but when that moment finally comes I’ll feel a bit stung.

Well…scout rule. Be prepared. Expect to feel disappointed at some point.

Counter that reaction with your mantra: I’m a real playwright. The US premiere of my work happens in 2019. Yes, another theatre group is doing my work. That’s what happens when you’re a real playwright. Oh, yes…it’s a theatre festival. Possibility of more than 10,000 people seeing my work. No, I can’t fly out for it. Not this time.

And remember to do your happy dance once a day. Shake your butt, swing your arms in the air, and say “I’m a real playwright”.

Hope to stop all this napping. I get up, do some things in the morning, get tired from the medicine, sit down in my chair, and the next thing I know I’m falling asleep. I know it’s what I need to heal, and I’m trying to not fight it. But I feel very out of shape, unhealthy. It’s time to kick this cough and get back to the gym. Back to moving, breathing, pushing my body a bit. We finally have some rain, so that should help pull all the crap out of the air that’s making my nose so bad. Crossing my fingers that this will be it; whatever set me off is done now and I can just get thru the rest of summer.

Tomorrow is my shrink appointment. Meh. Gotta think in Dutch. Try. Maybe I should put on one of my Dutch films this afternoon. Hear it a bit, get it back into my brain. There’s a lot of info I’d like to communicate to him, but I can’t do it in Dutch.

Meanwhile, I still haven’t got back to my artist friend. I haven’t got online and responded to something I need to. Still getting headaches, tho I feel like I’ve just got to deal with it now and then and get some damned work done.

Here comes the lethargy. Took my allergy pill an hour ago.

Maybe one more day of napping. One more day of chilling out.

Just one more.


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.



My script was chosen to take to the 2019 Washington DC Fringe Festival. My work will be done a theatre troupe I have nothing to do with, and the show’s gonna be seen by thousands of people. OMG. I gotta make that playwright LinkedIn page. I’m a real flipping playwright!!

Also got an email from my theatre group, saying that maybe we should call for auditions. Yep. Cool! You guys nudge the director. I agree. Let’s get this going.

And hallelujah; today’s the first day I don’t have a migraine when waking up. I can move my head and eyes without pain. Blowing out really disgusting stuff from my nose, and still coughing like crazy, but no pain. I can deal with the rest.

Plus, the lift in the building finally got fixed.

The weather has cooled down.

Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d lost a kilo or two lately. Not that I did anything to that end, but…good stuff is just happening.

Is this my reward for slowing down and taking care of myself?

Haven’t done much. Somehow I’ve managed to sleep every afternoon even though I sleep every night, too. Still healing. Eating well; my bro has been stacking the house with fresh fruit and veg. Loads to do: unanswered emails, organizing, cleaning. Telling myself that stuff always seems to be there for me, so I shouldn’t sweat it.

Next week is the big baddie. An appointment with my rheumatologist AND an appointment with my psychiatrist. Need to get over to hospital for blood tests this week; hoping to do so on Thursday after my physio appointment.

I feel so jazzed I just want to get up DO things again. Dangerous. I’m still not healthy, and now I REALLY don’t want to prolong this illness.

So from my sick chair in front of the tv: WHOOOHOOO!

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?

Who I could be

Negative. The celiac test was negative. On one hand, that’s great. Pizza is still on the menu. On the other hand… Well. Still have more tests to do.

Got down to it. Ran thru the trilogy, made the changes. Opened up the lighting and sound notes, finished them off. Left checking all the page references ’til later. Brainstormed videos, made notes on what I think would work for the director. Ran my lines for Saturday.

Trying to break my inevitable early morning grousing about people who are related to me via DNA. It keeps coming up, and I keep reminding myself it’s not worth it. Not worth another round of circular, angry thoughts. They’ve been proven to be assholes. They’ve been proven to be abusive. I understand where they’re stuck, and why they can’t move out of their patterns.

Have been assuring myself they don’t waste time thinking of me. I’ve been reluctant to own up to being “the writer” in full – at least, out in the real world. Concerned that at some point down the road the family will come at me again. For so long, all I wanted was to disappear. Fall off their radar, escape their derisive notice. Now, I’m feeling like I want to stand up and take the acknowledgement I’ve earned. The people I’m worried about…they barely read much less go to plays. They’ll never find out. I can have my life, do what I want, without fear of any repercussions in the future.

I guess I’m finally feeling safe, and a bit stable.

Or maybe I’m just clawing my way out that hamster wheel.

Thank you, medication. It does not banish my repetitive thoughts, but it does make it a hell of a lot easier to say ‘fu-u-u-u-uck you!’ to them. I can shift my brain so much easier into forward, happier thoughts. Calming thoughts. Hopeful thoughts.

Sleep is getting easier and better. Still have occasional sweaty hands, but that seems to be pulling back, too. Good appetite. No headaches to speak of.

Still not back to the gym. I’m too feline at the moment, stretched out head to foot, completely relaxed, completely at ease. It’s a kind of rich relaxation I rarely experience, and honestly, I don’t want to jinx it. As long as things are good, just chill.

That’s a good reminder to myself to take control. I’ve got such a thing about those words. ‘Taking control’ is very negative to me, so I guess in some ways I avoid it. Especially of late. But…there’s been no news allowed on the tv for two days now. No commercial tv, actually. I’m running DVD series I own (at the moment, Black Adder). Gods, commercial tv is fucking annoying. We tend to just put up with it; I advise against that. Invest in good entertainment and shut that shit out. No annoying jingles. No nagging about all that stuff you can’t afford. No ‘you’re not cool unless you do/own this’. If you really want to see something on broadcast tv, record it. Nothing more gratifying than fast forwarding through that hated advertisement.

Gah, people are such sheep!

You know… I used to think sheep were cute. That was when my personal experience with sheep consisted of looking at fluffy caricatures of the actual animal. My time in Ireland taught me different: sheep are stupid, smelly, and damned annoying. They respect no fences. Adhere to no boundaries. Shit everywhere. Eat everything. They move in mindless mobs, and startle at the slightest provocation.

I no longer think sheep are ‘cute’.

Hm. Now, is that my statement on sheep or people? Hard to say. It fits both so well. But I’m not in the mood for deep delving into my psyche. Feels like I’ve done too much of that.

So, silly stuff. Comedies. Games. Simple food, regardless of the test. A bit of work, a lot of play.

The world is coming into focus. Balance. Calm. Work. Hope. Simple tasks done every day. Simple things, small things that add up over time.

I’m beginning to see who I could be.


Calm before the storm

I am on holiday. From myself. I’m not letting myself bully myself. I’m not jumping on every job, working through the holiday weekend. Telling myself everyone else is taking several days off; I can, too.

It’s weird. And slightly unsettling. Can’t entirely rid myself of that guilty feeling every time I pass the script on the table, or my homework, or see a dust bunny in a corner. The only thing I can’t take time off is thinking about my role in the upcoming production, but that’s well underway. I snort-laughed last night while watching tv; that’s Wendy, not me.

…Felt a bit nostalgic, as you do during holidays. Pulled up my oldest brother’s LinkedIn profile. Never took a look at it before, and I should have. His work history is nothing to crow about: a long line of employers, most jobs held for just over a year. Honestly, it made me feel better about myself. Here I’ve been allowing him to shame me through the decades over my choices, and his personal history is shit. Puts a new spin on it.

Been thinking, too, about being poor. Usually it’s not something I ponder much. Plenty of things I want to do but can’t afford; that’s life. But lately it’s been more in my face. Obvious differences I’m seeing between myself and others. That’s harder to take, especially when those same people turn to me and expect me to be able to cough up cash like they do. Or worse, when they pussy-foot around things because they know I don’t have the money.

Hm. I’d spend more if I had more. No doubt. But I find I’m not very materialistic. I’m not a fashion plate. Don’t need a closet full of clothes, don’t need 20 pairs of shoes, don’t need make-up. Too tired most times to go out at night, so no clubs or bars on the list. And I’m far more a peasant food lover than top shelf: give me a great rice dish and I’ll be much happier than serving me lobster. I’m not a great traveller, and my health has just made that more pronounced. All in all, I’m okay with hanging around the house in my sweat pants eating well prepared meals that cost less than three euro total.

I accepted a while ago that I live in my head. And I think if I had more trappings of modern life, I wouldn’t do that so much. I’d allow myself to become distracted. It’s happened before in my history. Then I go through long spells of not writing. Not creating. Feeling, but not knowing why. It’s never been comfortable for me. In fact, it’s always driven me so far that I’ve had to take time off because I break down emotionally and/or physically.

One thing age brings is a strong sense of what’s right for you. Although a part of me would love a penthouse apartment with beautiful furniture and fascinating paintings all done up in a stylized, modern look, I don’t think I’d be able to create in it. Nice to visit, like a hotel. Walk in and stay a day or two. But I need my mouse hole to create: eclectic, slightly too busy, a little disheveled, and very lived in. Make everything feng shui and zen and I’ll just go with it. But give me clashing motifs and bright colors, and I’ll create.

I suppose that would be my ideal: two homes. One the perfect zen, a place I could return to evenings and during my time off to kick back and chill out entirely; the other my mouse-hole, busy and bright and odd, for work mode. I’ve done the best I can with what I have, but when you live with a pack rat in a small space you can hardly achieve monk-like zen in any room. lol. And I know myself. I’d hardly spend any time at all in that zen room. My brother would have to lock me up in there, like it was a punishment: Go to your zen room! Now!

…I just made that into a zen room. Interesting. I’d been thinking I needed a zen living space, but I don’t. I just need a zen room. …So, what’s in that zen room? Carpet, for warmth and comfort. Pale walls with paintings and photos. Music. Plants. Bright light, big windows with curtains that can be pulled if needed but access to sunshine and lots of it. One comfortable couch, to lay or sit on as desired. Floor space, for yoga and contemplation and pacing.

*sigh* Sounds nice. At least I can construct it in my mind. Maybe that’ll help in visualizations.

Things to note: sleeping better. Longer. Feeling more and more like I’m healing physically, gaining strength. It’s…almost orgasmic. I eat and my body gains strength; I can feel it. Don’t really feel like challenging myself, so I’m sticking with walks around the neighborhood rather than going to the gym. Continually being amazed at how good ‘healthy’ feels. Really did not know how run down I’d become.

Controlling sights and sounds around me. Been burning through DVDs again, avoiding commercial content. Much better than sitting through hours of peddlers hyping their wares. I just sit at my computer, mindlessly playing solitaire while show after show plays. It is as if I’ve shut down on some level. Once in a while I try another game, something else, but… I keep returning to solitaire and eyeing the tv. This is a sign I’m working on something. That back burner is going and doesn’t want to be disturbed by frontal lobe thoughts. In fact, that back burner is singularly mysterious; usually I have a sense of what I’m working on. This time: Nadda. Niks. Rien. Nic. Zilch. I am as clueless as I’ve ever been.

And I’m letting that be okay. Regular me…she’d be upset. But I’m not regular me right now, I’m holiday me. If holiday me wants to spend her time zoning out, she can do that.

This is my calm before the storm.

I’m not strapped in

“We’ve never done a play by a female playwright, have we?”

“Sure – but only one: Agatha Christie.”

Okay, so there might be a million reasons why the local theatre group haven’t done more plays by female writers. Nonetheless, I felt like my name was tagged right up there with Christie’s: this is a worthy writer. The director grinned, his enthusiasm for my Lovecraftian work (he keeps saying it, so I’ll keep reminding myself that’s what he truly thinks) evident. Another support: I’d sent the script to a co-actor, one whom I’d had in mind for a specific role when I wrote the script. She’s finished it, LOVES it, and is determined to take part in the production even tho she lives in another town. I felt interest from several of our core members, which encourages me. Thought maybe they’d all take a pass on it, since I’m basically an unknown factor. But it seems like most of the group is onboard and enthusiastic.

Ran my lines before rehearsal. Gotta say, it reminded me very sharply why I grew annoyed with this writer in the first place. There wasn’t much to remind myself of; I’ve only one speech in the entire thing. Other than that, it’s ‘Yes’ or ‘Oh, dear’. As I watched the others rehearse, I realized just how chauvinistic this play is, how stereotypical. The women are either timid mice or roaring bitches, the dialogue is pat and based purely on old and tired cliches, and the men all have longer speeches than the women.

Not so with my work. I’m a bit female biased, as you might imagine. And I’m not afraid to put a woman in a lead role as a heavy. I’ve a bit of stereotypical word exchange between the male and female characters in part 2, but that’s in relation to older married couples. The rest…the women think. They take action. They make strong decisions, curse, and get right into the thick of things. I’ve one female character who’s a bit of a ditz, but I also have one male character who loses it, too. The rest run on logic, action and reaction, and basic human interplay. As I’ve said before, any of these characters could be male or female. I’ve swapped around the genders enough to know.

Got a dose of my own medicine last night from my bro. He had band rehearsal, and I didn’t know when he was coming home, so after relaxing for an hour I decided to head off and read in bed. Heard him walk in the front door as I was doing my back exercises. Came out of my room to chat. He was going a mile a minute. I’d already done my wind-down, tv on a good program, playing a few games on my computer. I saw in him what he sees in me every time I come home from performing: wide eyes, fast movements, angry outbursts. I asked him how his rehearsal went and he proceeded to dump everything out for 40 minutes. Finally, when he got it all out, he asked me how my night went. Ah, so that’s what it looks like! Well, it was a good lesson, especially on the heels of my last post. I will continue to work on winding down properly post-work.

Had my shoes adjusted yesterday, and wore them all night. No blisters, which is great. I was all ready to say no to a new pair of shoes, to tell them I just couldn’t afford it this year, so naturally the subject didn’t come up. Undoubtedly, they’ll accost me by phone when I least expect it. I dislike having to put my ‘no’ on hold. When I’m ready to say it, I’m ready to say it. It takes me a while to build up that courage. Then to ask me to sit on it and be just as clear and concise when someone decides it’s time to jump on me and finally ask… Ach! I do not like.

Still intend on taking it easy. I’ll get back to the gym soon enough. But last night I put on a pair of pants I haven’t worn in some months, and I noticed they were damned loose. While I’m always happy to say I lost weight, losing it from illness is not the way to go about it. Noticed I have color in my face again. I was so pale, so deathly pale for so many months! Now I have a warm glow in my skin. The difference between the before and after is drastic, and I’m taking note. My body was very run down. Reminding myself I just had 4 months on the edge. Taking two or three days (or a week!) is merited.

Want to get to the corrections and changes in the script this week. Need to look at my Dutch homework too; don’t want to let that go ’til the last day. But although I feel the mania just there, the reality of the work it will take to make my dreams come true sobers me up right quick. It doesn’t stop me from dreaming and hoping. The wind-up still occurs. But I never stop thinking about the work: the writing, the rehearsing, the sound work, the video work, the marketing. I find myself constantly on the look out for new and innovative ways to entice the general public. Latest brainstorm: drop info at the only goth shop in town. This is right up a goth’s alley. Besides, I’ve been meaning to walk into that shop and take a look. I like what they’ve got in the window. Reaching the public when you operate on next to zero cash is damned difficult. Your best bet is word of mouth, which means being social. Not my forte. But…I’ve done more with less. Hell! I drew in a family to Ireland from the states to see one of my shows. I know how to market.

…The palms of my hands have been dripping with sweat lately. Icky. And it keeps happening. I know what that is; it happened to me during filming: hypomania. My body’s taking off whether I want it to or not.

*sigh* And I’m not strapped in.

Sick of it. Literally.

Felt it start yesterday afternoon. The scratchy throat. The cough that hurt. This morning I awoke with full blown laryngitis, an annual side-effect of my summer allergies. I’m sucking lozenges, gargling with salt water, drinking juice, and taking it easy.

Suck-ola. Found myself getting angry at my doctor without ever actually visiting: I’m well aware that if I made the foray over to her office and actually wrangled an appointment within the next 48 hours, I’d be told to suck lozenges, gargle with salt water, drink juice, and take it easy. The only reason to go is to have medical proof that yes, once again I am ill. Seems I must justify myself to the medical community before anyone takes me seriously. As usual, I’m physically drained with this, and don’t want to do much more than vegetate in front of the tv. So, as usual, I’ll do that first line of defense on my own and see if it clears itself up.

Script: 4000 words and climbing. I’ve barely begun act 1 scene 3, and have a lot of territory to cover in the next 2000 words. But I’m allowing my characters a bit of verbosity. Easier to cut than to stretch a story. I like my soviet agent. A lot. She’s menacing without being outright threatening. My characters are fleshing out and surprising me. One is funnier than I expected. Another more vulnerable than I thought. And it’s not just the women; the men are more than I expected, too. These disparate roles are ready made for personal conflict.

To round off my life, my brother is on a kick of disregarding me and my personal space. Dirty dishes left piled in the sink. Washed dishes left in the rack, never put away. Miscellaneous shit, like an extra water bottle I’d emptied and put aside for personal use. Oh, was that yours? I didn’t know. Well, did you put it there? No? Then what makes you think it was left there for you? Did you imagine Santa Claus came in overnight and left you a present? Hanging his rain-soaked clothes directly over my face towel, thereby soaking said face towel with underwear and sock drippings. Get the picture? Feels like I don’t exist, my work doesn’t matter, and half the time I’m just in his way.

…Was gonna write ‘I’m sick of it’ and then I realized I really AM sick of it. Literally. Funny how that happens so often in my life.

Well, let’s make this a short illness. Pick up the box of tissues, the lozenges, the water, my pills, and head off for a nap.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.



I am no Wilbur Force. I do not seek out purposefully painful dental work. I am, in fact, on the terrified side regarding dentists and dental work: too much pain too many times to feel too comfortable in that chair.

So when I say I had the best ever dental experience this morning, I want to be fully understood. No genie could have magicked up a dental hygienist more compassionate, more careful than the one I met today. In 40 minutes of deep cleaning, I experienced only one flash of discomfort, and it was over almost before I could register it.

Another pleasant surprise: I was greeted back to my Friday lesson with an enthusiasm that really touched me. So many smiles, so many happy faces, wanting to talk to me, to say hello. Understanding and compassion when it came to my hearing problem, as well.

I feel so full up of compassion I don’t quite know what to do.

Makes me feel bad about going off on the world, and thinking every single person on the planet is a fuck-wit.

Here’s the weekend again, two days without much to fill them. I’ve got the normal stuff; cleaning, writing, fresh air and walking. But I’m wishing I had another meeting, something else to get me out of the house and into a group of people.

Damn! Did I just say I want to be social?

That’s what I get after so long in the house, waiting to feel better. Any little thing, any show of friendliness or just human decency sets me a-spin. When your only input is the news or television, you begin to forget that there are just people out there, too. Normal people, living normal lives. They’re not out to take everyone, to use and abuse; just to live. Part of that is smiling, nodding, saying hello and thank you – and when you don’t get that for an extended period, it’s amazing what it does.

It’s like daffodils blooming in my chest – a bright burst of sunshine, rainbows, and lollipops right where I needed it.

Update: Wishing the ringing in my left and right ears was at least in harmony. Unfortunately, it’s slightly dissonant. The more my the sound in my left ear diminishes, the more I hear the right. If I ever get my full hearing back, I’ll create something based on how I hear right now (I promise, promise, promise – now please make it stop). Dizziness is the same. Wore my orthopedics outside yesterday, gave them the best chance possible to NOT hurt my feet. That was a failure. Gotta make an appointment to go in and have them adjusted again. Checking FB every day for a new post from the theatre group regarding auditions. Wondering how long “soon” is. Wrote a letter to my bro’s friend, R, who might be able to arrange a room for me to use to workshop my script. Pitched an English-speaking theatre workshop to him. Decided I’d step slowly with all that; my bro’s brought up a performance poetry class, and R himself has discussed me teaching English as a language – all of which interests me. I just don’t want to stretch myself too thin, particularly with my health issues.

For right now, though, I am happy and satisfied. My soul ate a big meal of human compassion and kindliness this morning, and I hadn’t quite realized how hungry I’d been.


My compliments to the chef.

The waiting game


Relief. That was my reaction this morning as I turned on the tv to see the Dutch election results. The people of this country didn’t let me down; they turned out in droves and made sure Wilders learned he’s not the big dog in the yard. Not everyone on this planet is insane.

Been out in the world. Walking in the sunshine. Going to class. Trying to reach the world again. Since my hearing went wonky, I’ve felt there’s a wall between me and everything else. It’s hard to hear, I don’t taste much, and I can’t smell much. Case in point: I made my morning oatmeal as usual and didn’t notice the milk had gone sour until I tasted something “a little off” in the first bite. But I’m trying.

The gym is still a far off dream for me: turning my head, or worse still, tilting it, results in so much dizziness I don’t feel safe on any of the gym equipment. Hell! Walking straight is tough. And I should know; I’ve more than noticed how much I stagger down paths, never keeping a straight line. I have to pay attention, purposefully put my feet down straight, purposefully keep correcting my path to a somewhat straight line – and it’s hard.

Have cause to say yippee today – yippee! Received the bill from the dentist and it’s less costly than I feared. Tomorrow I’m back there, seeing the hygienist. Ugh. Not looking forward to it, but telling myself by noon it’ll be all over.

Language class today was difficult. I’m rusty speaking Dutch, and my teacher has the habit of holding her hand near her mouth and half-covering it as she speaks, which makes it tougher to understand her. But I got through it. Really want to find a book in the language I enjoy reading. While I’ve been tackling Bridget Jones, it’s not easy, and it’s not written in full, proper sentences. I’ve got a recommendation written down, and hope to get out this weekend to buy a copy. Goddess! Let it be something that captures my interest and gets me to read more. Slogging through a book in Dutch is so damned annoying! I don’t want to read silly stories about giants or a family of squirrels. But adult subjects often come with adult language and grammar, which are still beyond me. So I slog through adult stories I want to read, and lose interest in the giant and squirrel family stories I can read.

Meh. I want to do so much more. Physically, with the language…and all of it is out of reach right now. I believe I’m receiving a lesson in patience.

I’ve never been good at the waiting game.