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.


Making friends

What’s with your eyes?

One thing I can say unequivocally: People here look you in the eyes more than anywhere else I’ve lived. No one said squat about it in Ireland because no one ever looks you in the eyes on that island. But here! More than any other country, people in the Netherlands see my eye condition and comment on it. Granted, it’s freaky looking. Unsettling. My left pupil remains rather small but my right dilates to huge proportions until you can’t even see the blue iris around it. Dark theatre, at night, then into a bar for a congratulatory drink… Last night was a set-up for that strange unequal pupils look. Not that it takes a lot to get that look; I’ve had it all my life. But once again I experienced a weak echo of what it must have been like to live as a freak in a freak show: people just staring at me. Intently. Some even scrunch up their faces, like my eyes are something a little bit disgusting and VERY weird.

…So, the play. I’m very happy I went. Very. The director of our theatre group showed up and sat next to me. We talked; he mentioned he received my spoof script but he’s had to do some reading for work so he hasn’t got to it yet. C, the PR board member I kind of replaced, was also there and we greeted each other warmly with the traditional kiss, kiss, kiss I’ve been taught to do. Was told this play was done in Amsterdam the night before and only drew 6 people. All of this made me very glad to be there; I know how tough it is to get an audience in to see a play. And how discouraging it can feel to look out and see so few faces.

Just before the lights went down, I looked over the audience. Guess who sat in the second row about 6 seats away from me? D, the actress who was such a shit to me about my own work. I had a small jolt of ugh in my head and then ignored her.

L’s performance was sterling. She truly is a really incredible actress. Loved the props on stage. They had need of a few small settings and created a module set of boxes with scenes painted on the sides of the boxes. When the scene changed, the actors flipped the boxes over to the new ‘scenery’. It was one of the best prop uses I’ve seen to date and very inventive.

Waited afterwards for L. T and C joined me, we chatted happily about the play until L came out from backstage. She was very excited, naturally. I was begged to please stay for a drink, and of course I said yes even tho I had no plans to drink anything other than a water. We filtered slowly to the bar, joined by L’s co-star, S (whom I loved immediately because she immediately said she loved my work in the last performance of our group).

Someone brought up D. Didn’t I see D in the audience? What happened to her? It was agreed by consensus that D must have just left after the performance. Then something went thru both S and L. I wish I would have had a camera on at the time. S got this look on her face and said: Oh, what a shame! L half smiled and said: Yes, a real shame. It was a bit too fast and bit too sarcastic, and I got the distinct feeling that either they’ve had a run-in with D or L shared the story with S of what happened on our last play. I felt like everyone kind of closed ranks around me: We stand with Beeps. If you want to talk to us, you’ll have to deal with her because we think she’s pretty damned great.

It was a good feeling.

Got home around 11. Hung out with my bro ’til midnight, watching tv and talking.

One other note: I think I’ve learned how to apply make-up to my older face. Got home last night and looked in the mirror – no creases, no touch-ups needed. I looked as good as when I left the house. *air punch* Yippee!

No plans. Stuff to do, naturally. I can always say that. But today I just want to bask in the after glow of last night. It was L’s night, hands down. Her performance was great. But, in a strange way, I felt like it was my night, too. I experienced a victory last night and for me it was very heady stuff. …No words, nothing out front. Just a closing of ranks, a tribal feeling of support.

I think I’m making friends.

Bring it on

Put those gold stars all over my forehead. I did good.

Not only did I ‘get up off my ass’ to do laundry and errands, I also tackled garbage, recycling, and dishes, jumped thru the ring of fire for my pharmacy and ordered new injections, and updated the theatre website.

Feel a bit bad about the last; L actually sent me a note yesterday asking for the password for the website so she could put up a notice that we were NOT doing my trilogy in 2019. I apologized to her; that’s my job. She must have received one too many messages referencing the production. I mean… Great that people got enthused over my story and my write-ups. But she shouldn’t have to be the one to explain to everyone that we’re not doing it and regrouping. Down came the graphics, down came the long thought over write-ups. *sigh* It was the last nail on the coffin for me, the final confirmation that my dreams of a European premiere will not happen in 2019. Posted in the blog, too. Kept it light-hearted. Wound up with a final mention of L’s play on Saturday. She deserves it.

Looking ahead: M is gonna be very busy after his first child is born. He certainly won’t be performing in anything for at least 6 months, and he may find it difficult just to make board meetings. T, the director, is not officially listed as a board member. He comes to all the meetings and his opinion matters because he’s the one who has to head every production, but in reality it’ll just be L and me. I won’t be too much help with venues; despite everything said here, you’ll only get an earful of Dutch when you talk to anyone in the city. You need fluency, and I don’t have that.  Once again, I find myself determined to support L in any way possible. She’ll have to work her way through venues and dates and tussle with a lot of behind the scenes problems. She needs to take the lead, too, due to the language thing. Plus, she’s the senior member. I want to be her right hand, the person who steps up and takes care of what needs to be done as quickly as possible. That’s why I worked hard to update the website yesterday, and why I was so pleased to send her message saying it was all done by 3 in the afternoon.

Haven’t heard anything about filming L on Saturday, so I don’t know. Haven’t bought a ticket online. From what I can see, if I did that I’d get an E-ticket to print up. I don’t have a printer right now, so it would be a pain in my ass to try and send it around and get a copy. Easier to pay right at the door. I don’t expect the show to be sold out.

The weather is just getting worse and worse. Snow by the weekend seems inevitable; everyone expects it. Happy to say I already bought a new pair of snow shoes when they were on sale. Not the best on the market, but certainly the best option for me at the time.

So…bring it on.

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.

How naive I am

Headed downtown in a light rain for our theatre meeting. I was not first at the meeting point; I seem to be getting better at ‘Dutch timing’ and arrived just moments before the agreed upon time. But, first person there was M from Act 3. She’s nice enough, I guess. But I don’t want her in the podcast. She can’t do it; not good enough. This is the actress who insisted every single line of dialogue end on an upward inflection. It drove me nuts.

Most of the group arrived on time or soon thereafter. One didn’t; we waited and waited on her. After two hours, a cup of hot chocolate and a fizzy water, I just said my good-byes. Happened to see her on my walk back to the metro, but her head was down towards her phone. Didn’t catch her attention. It was still raining and I just wanted to get home.

Bo-o-o-o-oring. Gods! We all have theatre in common; we all love being on the stage. But that’s all we have in common (at least on my side). Obligatory New Years wishes were exchanged as well as the polite enquiries into how the holidays played out. We were all sat around a long table, and G chose to sit next to me. It was more than an hour into our talking that G mentioned this was the first time she’d been out of the house for three days because her husband is sick with the flu and she’s been taking care of him. For the entire evening, she leaned past me to talk to everyone – meaning I got full on blasts of her undoubtedly germ ridden breath. Of course this happens now: I just took my big meds, so my system is weak. I’m just getting over another illness, again making my system weak. And I’m trying like hell to stay healthy enough to go to L’s performance next weekend.

L sat kitty-corner from me, and we didn’t get a lot of conversation in. 😦 But I did sense a warm connection between us: I was genuinely happy to see her and she felt the same about me. I told her I’m doing my best to get back to 100% health so I can go to her play. Really? You’re coming? she asked. Her eyes went soft and I sensed she was very grateful for my support.

Oh! And before I forget. We discussed possible script ideas, with the peanut gallery throwing out whatever ideas they had. G mentioned some play that has an all female cast. It’s about a 60 year old woman who gets together with friends to re-live a holiday they had in Australia, she explained. Then she turned to me: You can play that part! Not sure what look crossed my face in that moment. I know there was a short beat of silence before she chimed in with a: Oh, but you’re a little younger than that, aren’t you?

I took it well. Didn’t get angry or anything. Just said: Yeah, that’s a little older than me. But what. a. BITCH.

Doing my best to keep the group on track. L’s got to get past next week’s performance; that’s the critical point. Then we can secure dates and venues and settle on a script. Mentioned this and everyone agreed we should meet again in the first few days of February.

It’s time to get out and post on the group’s blog. Announce on the site that we aren’t doing the trilogy and we’ll announce our next production as soon as we’ve settled on it.

Wish I felt less awkward in these social situations. I just sat for most of the night, not saying much. I wrote over the holiday and didn’t go anywhere. I don’t have children and care not a whit to talk about pregnancy or toddlers. Why must adult conversations always go down that road? I suppose it’s important to most people. I’m just not most people.

Happy to get back to my writing. When I write, it’s just me. If it’s an uncomfortable situation, it’s because I made it uncomfortable. I understand the motivations of my characters and don’t sit there wondering if they’re trying to politely tell me something in a very indirect manner.

But, learn from it. I did, too. M brought up a personal problem with someone at work and asked advice from the group. Everyone chimed in with something different, most suggestions falling into the passive-aggressive category. I was the only one who said she should simply confront it. Good information to keep tucked away in my head.

Does nothing to alleviate my anxiety with the group, tho. It only confirms it: these people will not be upfront with me, they will use allegory and subtle means to try and get their point across. I thought I’d left all that behind when I said good-bye to the family.

How naive I am.

As bipolar as I am

I’m writing. Don’t want to jinx myself with anything, so I’ll leave it at that.

Pulled some info on another story idea and put the PDFs in a folder. No in depth reading right now; a fast scan tells me more than enough. Save it, have it there for future use.

Tonight is the theatre meeting. Managed to shower yesterday, so I’m as fresh as possible. We’re gathering by Blaak, which means I can stop by TrefPunt and buy some smoke along the way.

Funny thing – and I did get a good laugh out of it: FB recommended D, the bitch actress whom I can’t stand, as a friend suggestion. Felt it was one last annoying poke at me from the Universe. Are you sure you don’t want to hit that fucking smile off her face? Well, sure I’m sure. I’d love to. But I won’t. All in all, I’d prefer to see that smile slide off her face over the years as her life fails to satisfy her at every turn. It’s far more satisfying.

Took stock last night, too. Was watching Funniest Home Videos (yes, we get the syndication of it) and in one bit a 20 something guy said he was going to surprise his mother who was turning 50 something. That always makes me perk up: Oh! This is what you’re supposed to look like at 50? There’s a heaviness in older people’s faces. It’s not really age, but a lack of youth. The features grow heavier, stockier – almost as if the entire face scrunches down on itself (like a carved apple). I don’t really have that, and everyone who meets me comments on it. Can’t figure out why. I know DNA plays a large part in it, but so do my personal habits: daily water consumption, cleanliness, etc. It’s like my face is stuck in time. Other than a bit of puffiness under my eyes (which my imagination generally blows out of proportion to what I actually suffer from), my face is my face. I look very similar to when I was 20. And when I was 20 I still carried many child-like features; it never took a lot of imagination to view a pic of me at 3 or 4 and see my adult face in it. But there are loads of people out there who seem to have a temporary teenage/young adult face, because as soon as they hit 30 or thereabouts you’d never recognize them. It’s truly as if they become someone else. And honestly…I’m more than half convinced that’s precisely what happens. They’re no longer the teenager I knew. They become strangers, with strange mannerisms.

Need to take my weekly injection (ugh) and do dishes. Want to take the afternoon to keep writing. Break with plenty of time to put on make-up and make myself presentable. Head off to the meeting with a smile on my face and my thought arrows out: listen, respect, be warm and kind – but not to my own detriment. That takes a deep and steady feeling, a surety of one’s self. I don’t often have that, but lucky for me I’m in thrall with my work right now. That’s hard to shake, no matter from whom the disparaging remarks come.

…My pen name is very apt. I chose a new one when I embarked on horror writing. For so many years I thought that surface stuff I wrote was me. How wrong I was! It is only now that I have the ability to get to the core stuff and express it. My pen name is a play on that idea, in Dutch. So far, no one’s caught on (I chose well!!).

Feels like I’m recovering my sense of humor, which is odd because I’m getting it back by writing horror. Maybe it’s just my yin and yang of writing; I don’t really know. What I do know is that I’m currently working on the yin and the yang at the same time (and we’re talking FAR yin and FAR yang, no blending of the two).

*snicker* My writing is as bipolar as I am.


I may never eat again.

Nervousness was the word of the evening. I was nervous and so was my bro. We hauled ass to Den Haag, taking 2 trains and a tram to get to S’s house. Thank you, Google, for getting the mapping correct. Even tho I got out at a different station than I did when we filmed, I walked straight to the house with the online directions.

S greeted us at the door, looking lovely. We walked into a family gathering – aunts, uncles, a few school friends of S. Loads of Dutch. I was pleased to S’s parents again; they treated me very well during the filming and I really enjoyed their company. Nothing had changed: her family members greeted me with hugs and the traditional three kisses.

As soon as we sat down, the food came out.

First: a beet salad. Next: a plate of hors d’oeuvres. By that time I was more than full, but no! Dinner was called around 9 p.m., and they just wouldn’t hear of us leaving before the cake was cut and enjoyed.

Conversation was a mix of English and Dutch. I was very happy to see my bro conversing with people. He later told me his stomach was in knots, but he didn’t show it at all. Kept his cool thru it all. I kept encouraging him, telling him no one would know how nervous he was and he wasn’t ignoring others in the conversation.

We left around ten thirty, thanking everyone. Hugs and kisses from everyone. Within a minute of walking out the door, my bro started farting loudly. He’d been holding in gas from nervousness and finally let it all out. And out. And out. Farted almost the whole way back to the tram station, poor guy. That couldn’t have been comfortable for him.

I am still burping up last night’s dinner. Too late to eat for me. Don’t really think I’ll need much in the way of food today. Don’t plan on doing much and I can tell I’m still digesting everything.

And, oh! That was my last thing during this break. The last thing I needed to be concerned about. The last thing I needed to make an effort for.

Now, I’m free.

Do not think I’ll get out of my jammies today. Sloth and digestion: that’s all I want to do. Maybe a bit of Poldark.

My head is turning back to writing. Plan on setting aside a few hours every day to just sit and do it. Finish off the comedy and get it out. Steady work; that’s what’s needed. No need to get lost for 10 hours at a time. No need to go all haywire so I can’t even hold a conversation. Just…putter. Here and there. Tinker. It’ll write itself.

If ever I can get past my oh so full stomach, that is!


Ready to work

Met with L yesterday. Many things hung off that meeting: would I continue to be a board member, would the group ever see another script by me, etc. I was a bit nervous.

Got down to the place we were meeting early. Stopped at the library and returned my finished book. Haven’t looked for anything else for over the holidays yet; want to head to my local branch and see what they have.

…Have I expressed my regret over any dissing I ever did of L? Let me lay it out: I take everything back. Everything. If she ever asks for recognition, she bloody well deserves it. She’s the one arguing with venues, probably getting ulcers as they diss her on replies and dates months after we thought we had everything taken care of. She’s the one kicking the director in the butt to get on schedule. She’s the one talking and working with M, the other board member, 24 hours a day because they happen to work together at the same place and, like me, L never really shuts off. If it isn’t our theatre group, it’s her other theatre group.

I suspect the other board members asked L to feel me out during the meeting. lol! Here I was, doing the same on my side, trying to pussy foot around a few things and find out where we stand without being vulgar. Bless her. She asked me straight up: How do you feel about working with D? She said she wanted to audition again. I didn’t miss a beat: I won’t work with her. Not in the same production. But I’m happy to do the PR, take pictures, write the blog, and do everything I can to promote the group. I told L I felt completely dissed by D. I relayed to her that I knew I was shaking really badly during the episode and I regretted that, but that’s how angry I was. I told her I still don’t know what happened, that I thought I was being good and not saying much, but obviously I said or did something D didn’t like. I discussed my decision about wanting to be part of the solution rather than the problem, and L smiled. We then spent a good ten minutes talking scripts. I left with: Anything I can do to help you over the next few months, just let me know. I see who does the work behind the scenes. L laughed and hugged me. She asked if I’d be willing to film her other group. That’s what she wanted the camera for, but the tripod is a tiny thing and it would be better if I was there running the camera. Of course I jumped at that: a chance to see her behind the scenes in another group, a chance to see the play without having to pay, and a chance to help her out. I’m all for it.

Came home to find the director had finally replied about Tuesday. So far, all the board can make it. L and I decided we needed to push that meeting thru so we can come to a decision before the holidays.

I feel better. Assured. Ready to help and be a part of the group.

And the best thing? L still REALLY wants to do my script. She even mentioned getting an October venue date set in stone and doing it for Halloween, like I originally wanted to…

We may get snow this weekend. It’s been cold enough that the frost behind the building hasn’t melted for 2 days. Every time I think it’s damned cold I remember the paintings I’ve seen of the Dutch canals frozen over so hard that people skate on them. THAT’s cold. We’re chilly. Brr.

Time to hang Xmas lights. Time to do the dishes, my laundry. Get back to the gym and walk out my back.

Thank you, Universe, for not giving me the worst case scenario. Thank you, me, for hanging in there and keeping the panic from driving me to do worst. And thank you, L, for everything. For meeting with me, for talking straight with me, for the hugs and the smiles, for everything.

For the first time in weeks I feel totally clear. No hidden anxieties eating me up.

I’m ready to work.

Tit for tat

Another life line: a bright rope of hope sent to me from L. She’s more than busy right now, resurrecting her last play for a few additional performances before Christmas. But she managed to fill in the interview Qs and send them to me, each answer as perfect as anyone could ever want them. I’ve now 3 actors and myself for the newsletter, enough to ‘pass’. For a while there I thought the newsletter would go out like this: interview with me as actor, BIG interview with me as writer, a bit of other stuff, small answers from the cast. Ugh. Now I can balance it out more.

Thank you, Universe. Last night the rain was lashing at the window. Really lashing; I just sat there listening to it for a minute, thinking about my umbrella that I had to throw away en route because it blew inside out and broke to pieces. I said: It would be great if this blew itself out overnight. Today, unscheduled by meteorology, is a sunny and bright day. So thanks! I didn’t really want to get wet.

Managed to get a shower in yesterday. Didn’t color my hair; we’ve another hot water hog down the line. It’s not as bad as it was, but I do have to check and make sure we’ve got warm water before I begin something like that. Using cold water to get hair dye out… Oh, I’ve done it. Like most things, when you get old enough you get to experience them sometime in life. It isn’t pleasant. Cold showers even less so.

Class today. Dutch is pretty much the furthest thing from my mind right now, but I’ll give it a go. Don’t want to miss 2 classes in a row.

Will put in time on the newsletter this week. Finish up my test final recordings. Work to learn my lines.

Notes: my left thumb still hurts like Hell. Problems picking things up and holding them. Sleep is odd. Somehow I manage to curl up and sweat my shirts thru. Then sometime later I wake up in a cold, wet shirt, freezing my proverbial ass off. Had another ice pick in my head last night as I was watching tv. Started at the right temple suddenly, just like it always does. The pain kept up for about an hour. I managed to eat more food yesterday; been slipping back into a small bowl of soup for the day and nothing else. Ate 3 times yesterday. Taking lots of paracetamol. Haven’t yet pulled out the oxycodone. But I’ve contemplated it.

Hoorah; my shrink appointment is this week. I can talk about it all. Headaches included.

Fix me. Fix me, fix me, fix me! I’m so tired of reacting this way. Even when I think I’ve got it under control, those damned headaches come at me. I do my best to get thru them, but… It’s not like I’m capable of much. All I can really do is hold my head and massage that point at my temple, hoping a bit of pressure on it might eventually ease it off. I’ve never vomited from these headaches. But light and sound hurt me, and I can’t do much. Probably time to get them documented as real migraines. Or cluster headaches. Whichever. Maybe I’ll even get a drug to help when they come on. Usually the best thing I can do is go to sleep and hope it solves itself.

…Ach. I’d hoped, really hoped, that a few meds might be just what I needed. That all I really lacked was a small edge on my emotions. I’m finding that’s not the case. Dr T is finding that’s not the case. A comment during our last appointment: Well, you obviously have issues… Sure I do! I’m bipolar I, depressive baseline, and 53. You can’t get there without gathering a few issues along the way. *sigh* Thought I’d been pretty honest with myself, facing my fears, but my continued physical problems point to something else. I’m just stuffing things. Either that, or I’m developing brain cancer or something. Can’t count out that possibility, can we? Happy thoughts, happy thoughts…

That pain at my temple… It’s still there. Very low key. But still there. Better close the drapes. Make sure I wear my sunglasses when I’m out there. Close the blinds in the classroom, even; it’s often too bright in there for my eyes. Pretty obvious I’m on that edge; the pain has been coming at me for days now.

Hm. Maybe I should break out the big pain pills…

Was reminded this morning of a meeting on Thursday evening in Den Haag that I’d like to attend. It’s a feminist meeting, an open discussion of the issues we’re facing today. My bro’s band practice is moved from Wednesday to Thursday, so he’s not home and I’m free to do whatever. Thinking it may be a good thing to do. Hook up with like minded people. T’s encouraging me to go. It’s even at a venue close to the train station and really easy to find. I’ve written it into my agenda.

Finding the more I concentrate on me, the less I think about everything else. Good medicine. So my thoughts are all about me: my reading, how I feel, should I do my cuticles again, etc. Nothing heavy in there. I’m purposefully emptying my head of all that crap attached to baggage. Let other people worry about other things; that’s not my job.

From here I’ll brush my teeth and hair. Get dressed. Gather up my books for class. Chill.

I silenced my phone last night, and I think I’ll keep it that way.

Tit for tat.


The silence is deafening.

My left thumb hurts like hell. Was told that metaphysically the left thumb equates to your incoming connection to the supernatural.

Have not cursed anyone. Yet. Have thought of long, protracted deaths for many people. Have watched in my mind as they’re gutted in front of me. Not thrilled by this reaction in me. But, over time, those violent imaginings help me channel my anger. I am less angry and more resolved. So, healthy thoughts or not, I find they help me. I’ll take it.

Dutch switches on and off like a light. I’ll be reading and doing just fine, then my mind wanders a bit and when I come back to the text I don’t understand one effing word.

Today is as grey and dark as my feelings…

Did nothing yesterday, other than watch Hellraiser 3 and 4. Didn’t even shower.

Don’t have a lot of oomph for anything.

Confident I can get the last pass for my test sounds done during the day. They don’t have to be perfect; these aren’t the finals. They’re test finals. Something to try in the auditorium and check our signal. Should really get on that. Hard to care right now; telling myself I will care soon enough, so get on it. Besides, it’s something to do today.

Treat others as they treat you. I know the Golden Rule is treat others the way you want to be treated. I’ve done that and had shit results, so now it’s the Beep Rule: treat others the way they treat you. Get eye rolls, give eye rolls. Get shit, give shit. I’m done. Mic drop.

The Beep Rule is why I haven’t messaged the director to remind him about December’s schedule. The Beep Rule is why I’m remaining silent on WhatsApp. The Beep Rule is directing many of my actions now. It’s actually a bit restraining for me, but maybe that’s a good thing. You don’t want to talk; fine. I won’t. Figure it out yourself.

The way things currently stand, the winter newsletter will go out with an interview with 2 actors, myself as an actor, and myself as the playwright because no one else has got back to me. And I’m not asking again.

My bro keeps trying to tell me that some people don’t want to make a big deal of their projects. I don’t get that. If we’re performing, we all agree we want an audience. And the bigger the audience the better because we all have to chip in money to secure the venue in the first place. So what the fuck is going on? I’m working my ass off to secure an 80 seat full audience for our performances. And everyone seems to be working against me.

The director’s 6 hours notice before our rehearsal last week didn’t result in anyone showing. As we currently sit we have no backstage crew, no agent for act 3, and no idea where our entrances and exits are because we don’t know what venue we’ll be in. We don’t know how we’re handling Eve’s boyfriend in act 1, live actor or recordings. We have no idea about video right now, either. Can we use it, or not? Feels to me like we know less right now that I felt I knew 2 months ago.

Gods. All this shit is why I prefer to work alone! When I make a decision, it happens. Even if I then have to admit I made a mistake and go back and do it again, at least something happens. I feel like all we’re doing is a couple scenes from each act and nothing else. I know we have to solidify somewhere and somehow, and the scenes the director chose are good for that. But… we are going to get to the rest of the scenes, right? I’ve told the director ad infinitum that the fight scene will take extra work, maybe at a gym. I’ve mentioned my schedule and how I need certain things done before the Xmas break or they won’t get done. I’ve talked about my observations and anxiety over the entire D and friends fiasco. I’m getting nothing in return other than empty assurances and unkept promises.

Smoke run today. Don’t feel I can count on my bro for that, so I’m planning it in soon. Get it over and done with; I’ve got other stuff to do today.

And frankly, just getting through this silence is work enough…