Yesterday felt like Friday to me. Mentioned it to my bro, who said he felt like it was Wednesday. Figured we balanced out to a Thursday between us.
Woke last night to a sharp pain in my left leg near my hip. Was sleeping on my side and something must be cutting or putting pressure on a nerve: hurt like hell, and my leg felt half-numb. Changed position. Eventually it left, but it took a long time. Do not like that. Long overdue for some walking during the day and I feel that was my alarm going off: move, or hurt. NOW.
Been wishing there’s a PPA group (Paranoid People Anonymous). Don’t know if I’m being paranoid or reacting sanely these days. The theatre’s WhatsApp group, once so vocal it made my phone go off a dozen times every day, is silent and remains silent. Hm. Has another group been started, one that doesn’t include me so everyone can safely bitch without me knowing? Yeah, I know: that’s a paranoid thought. Not very probable. But not totally improbable, either. I’ve watched the director whip together new WhatsApp conversations on a whim, including or excluding as he feels necessary.
Nothing, still, for December. No schedule, no request for me to fill in a calendar with my free times. Nothing.
I never liked this group’s lackadaisical approach to things. The last minute ‘can you do this instead?’ questions and the actors needing scripts right up to performance night because they’re not memorizing their lines. But DAMN! I can’t tell if I’m extra hyper about all this and therefore just extra sensitive, or if I’m right on the mark. It feels like I’m right on the mark, but then, that’s the way it always feels. I mean… I’m not too far off, right? It’s 30 November and I’m talking about December here. I should be concerned, shouldn’t I?
Letting go is… Well, I’m finding ‘letting go’ means letting go of everything right now. Relinquishing all control over the blog. Spit out the newsletter whenever. Can all my plans for video. Trying to shed all those other jobs and just be an actor. Think about my role, concentrate on learning my lines. I’ll get a picture or two here or there. I’ll be able to blog once in a while about the group; I don’t have to post after every rehearsal. Yeah, it’s better to post after every rehearsal. To get this shit down to a science. But I feel like I’m dragging everyone through it, like everyone is reluctant to even give me their answers to 8 simple questions for the newsletter. It feels like they resent me doing these things. And I’m tired of working so hard and feeling unwanted and dissed.
Spent lots of time thinking about how I want to handle this and what I’ll do. I need to find that non-caring zone: the one where I let go of my expectations for the play and just participate. That’s the only place I can speak from and not cause trouble. Have decided to simply confront G and M on their attitudes. When I hear from G about how stupid my use of ‘creepy’ is (and I WILL hear about it again, I’m sure) this is my response: You were told you could change that to something you feel more comfortable with. It’s not really an issue anymore, so why do you keep bringing it up? The only reason I can think of is that you want to make me feel bad about my work. Is there something you need to say to me? Similar with M: I thought you enjoyed this script when we began. Now you seem to hate it. What’s going on? M doesn’t get as much thought because I skipped her rehearsal. I got an evening full of attitude from G, tho. She deserves to be called to the carpet.
No more dissing me. I’ll take joking around; I like to do that, too. And generally I feel like I have a large capacity to make fun of myself. But no more telling me my words are stupid, or something doesn’t make sense. You’re not even giving me the minimum respect any human deserves when you roll your eyes at me time and time again; THAT I will not put up with.
Thinking about being scary Beeps. Scary Beeps is very effective; I’ve used her in the past. It usually only takes one well placed threat to make people back off. I may be short, but I have an intensity about me that people respond to. Maybe it’s my bipolar effect. Or maybe it’s because I issue the threat the way I act: I feel it, every part of it. When I lean in close and with a small smile say, ‘You don’t know who you’re fucking with,’ people get frightened. Perhaps that thin line that’s preventing me from punching them finally gets their notice. Gee, she’s really angry! Yep. And most people have never confronted the type of rage I carry. Yesterday I indulged in a bit of ‘crazy talk’. But here’s a story for you: someone once pissed me off. Mightily. I cursed him without thinking. This was before I recognized the effect I have on my surroundings. Two weeks later I got a call telling me he’d committed suicide. I’ve no proof the two things are connected. Then again, I’ve no proof they’re not. But experience tips it to the connected side. There’s also the story of getting mugged in Chicago one night (I ended up in hospital with a head injury). I cursed that person, too, loudly and quickly. The next morning I received a phone call from a man in Chicago. One of his employees had found my purse with everything in it behind a bush in a park. They returned it to me, in tact. Nothing gone, nothing stolen, and no explanation for what happened. Other than my suspicions.
I feel like I can ‘get even’ with D, G, M, or anyone else. Not directly. Most of the time I won’t even hear about what happens; that’s the way it works. But it does seem to work.
You don’t know who you’re fucking with.