Going to Work - Alone.

I talked to G the other day, the person I may direct to email, because he didn't call me back. This is the second time he's done that - He'll say - I'd love to talk this evening, I'll give you a call when I'm in! -- And then sometimes there's like an emoticon or something, which is just not acceptable.

Anyway, I feel bad - sort of - his inconsistencies aren't my fault, but I feel like I can't accept him and keep giving so much to him.

It was good to talk - it was a month since we spoke. He said - you have such a beautiful voice have you ever thought of voice overs? And I just signed up with an agency that does business ESL, and they have a media department which does. So, I'm going to do it.

Typically, now I want to write about him and how awesome he is, when deep, deep down, I know he's not for me. When I asked the I Ching about him I got 2 Hexagrams - 51 and 50. Sex and creativity.

When he and I first got together I dreamt: I am a lesbian, I go up these stairs to meet people, these famous designers. They say " We have been waiting for you". I thought about it:  I woked up thinking, I'm taking this relationship the wrong way. He is going to help put me in my creative drivers seat.

 Here is a little peep though. I don't know if I will wind up with a woman or man, but if it was a man, it should be someone like him.

Be truthful - and Patient

I am writing instead of watching a Julia Roberts movie, this is good. I don't hate all of her stuff, but this is the low, hateful, "Something to talk about".  Must love Dogs, on previously, was much, much better. I'm serious.

Good truthful actors in an agreeable movie, that I did not expect to catch late night. T.V gold.The John Cusack character was this deep, truthseeking philosophical artist who brooded over his lost love, who fell for a ridiculous, cheesy asshole. She gets back together with him after telling the truth. He waited, it came just in time. It's a movie, I know.

I am still thinking alot about the most previous guy I was involved with. So much good there! I wonder if he still thinks about me... probably not. I think I should probably cast him in my mind as the dickhead character and move forward. I think I will go chuck his number right now... hmm. Is he horribly ridiculous, pretty inconsistent, as am I?  I don't want to be a hypocrite. I think I will gently direct him to email.

Also, I like women as well. Something I should be more honest about. Whatever with my hang ups; I am LUCKY. I am an NYC bisexual - my dating pool is VAST.

I'm a Woman's Man, No Time to Talk

I almost bumped into an old lover last Saturday. He was headed down the street, a determined look on his face, he is still completely sexy.

When I met him, I thought: who gets to date this guy? C is elegant, and witty, handsome and smart. It meant something to me that he thought I was beautiful. I got to know him, he told me he was wounded from exes. We dated, flirted. There was a lot of smoke but no fire when we got down to it. He is, I hope still, in AA. I may be there. If I saw things through my mother's eyes, I would say : he wound up in AA. I don't see things her way, really.

I am trying NOT TO. I judge myself through her eyes.I'm not in AA, but if I was to be, I'm almost afraid I'd be done for - not, as I'm seeing myself (maybe too much?) as a work in progress, but like it is all here's where you are, here's what you are, you are totally damned: You are a cater waiter, you are 37, (no, almost 38).

I am in trouble, but I need to believe in myself - I let that go a long time ago, in terms of putting myself out there. Consistently. Openly.

Acting - Heart - Comes and Goes

I'm thinking about what art form is good for me. Even though I have acted on and off as a kid, it has often been difficult for me as an adult. It hasn't been about the work itself - it's been a competition between myself and other actors (often to see who sucks and can be blamed for the failure of the scene/play. Not uncommon, but not healthy either, and hardly in service of the play).

Also, with acting, I've had this thing for some time - If I perform, I am submitting to this energy/adrenaline, and I get very fearful: what is this churning up inside of me, and where will it take me???Then, when I perform, suddenly what I had unconsciously recognized about the scene and character gets expressed; like I am turned inside out.

When I was younger I called it was scary, but I trusted it -  I was more excited. Overall I tend to come and go from acting as my heart opens and closes. I remember being in high school, my sister had left home and moved in with her friend's family. My parents were heartbroken, and my mother in particular, was vicious to me. I became heartbroken that she kept her pulling me in and then pushing me away. She had done it too many times and one day I remember going to my room, and whispering over and over again : "I want to make a pact with the devil - I never, ever want to feel again."

The next time I auditioned for a play, I read for a part, and it fell flat. My friend said he had thought I was kidding, and I didn't understand why, but I hadn't been; I just felt removed. I didn't make the connection (I didn't really believe that the devil had taken me up on my pact offer), but years later I saw that I had buried my feelings.

It's hard to act when you are numb, whether from alcohol, or from shutting your heart.

Perfectly Good Heart

I meant to connect with my friend A this evening - I couldn't, we couldn't. All I can say about how we connect is" perfect, perfect perfect - I want to be perfect". (We both like Black Swan).
 I feel, "I know, I know, I know - I want perfect expression of that".

Probably better that we didn't hang out; Here's what I did instead:

I went to work at D's. Out of the 3 babysitting jobs, she remains - I really connect with them. But it was hard today. Just, she is the woman who works for Martha Stewart. I'm impressed, but not. She comes home tired, talks about how Martha likes her writing, "this time" (she looked down when she said it), I meant to connect - you know? It got lost - I would love to ask her - how did you get your job? Can you refer me? But, how do you do that? Still getting to know her and not sure if it's "appropriate". Maybe I could just be straightforward/business-like?

I was so exhausted, (like my acting teacher had said he was at 37)  - I didn't go home though. I thought of A how much she works, struggles and hustles. I bought myself a cup of coffee , which was believe it or not a budget stretch, and forced myself to go out.

I went to an event at SC that was so cool. There were about 8 people there and it was a superhero event to help homeless people. We made care packages for the homeless (toothpaste, soap, razors), that the men in costume would then bring to them. One of the guys said " Yeah a lot of these homeless people are schizophrenic, and you have to be careful not to scare them when you approach them. (Probably easier if you are not wearing a cape).

However. The point is that our task as participants was to make a costume that represents your best gift, your "super power" and make sure it is the one that serves the community and then take the package and give it to a homeless person.

I thought about mine - I think - I am good at making images with words, but was fuzzy about it. Everyone had a great time, but I couldn't really think of a costume to represent this. Is it a mirror? Wasn't sure.

I bumped into B on the bus ride home. I used to work for him - he has an autistic son, and I slaved away at that job for months and didn't get a reference finally because I got into an argument with his wife over my "habitual messiness" and other bullshit, and she refused to sign it on my last day. Months of anger blew out of me like a giant gust of wind --  I let her know that I wasn't her maid or personal assistant, and I left without it.

He happens to be an artist and he gave me his business card - I think he'll give me the reference, ha ha. I didn't know that he makes documentaries on artists. Interesting that we wouldn't have met today had I not been inspired by A and pushed myself to go out.

I gave my package to a homeless person yesterday and it felt so good. We understood each other - He said thank you, and we connected, perfectly.

I'm Not Perfect Yet - Tomorrow, I think

 I always think to myself: Am I really beautiful inside and out yet?



I want it to be perfect, me to be perfect - every expression to be perfect.

Every time I act - on a stage, in life -  I hear this voice in my head that goes: are you KIDDING ME? I'm really hard on myself. Everything I do, say, think, goes through a strict bullshit detector. It's like my friend from acting school said: "You think to yourself: Is this really the truth - no really, really, really, the truth?" Ironically, actors are such good liars, devoted to the truth. Maybe this is because if you know the truth, you know how to hide it?

I'm listening to Madonna. I'm a fan, but I come and go - I pretty much like her music, but on a different front, hate her acting. One of the reasons I give it up to her is this: Cher. She was interviewed, and uncomfortably - checked her ego for a moment and truthfully admitted : she's the best at what we do.

I love Cher for her honesty - she's a good actor, she had a human response that revealed her weakness and insecurity, but told the truth. Madonna is never really real. Madonna is all mask, every moment is STRIKE A POSE (or, this is painful, am I projecting?)

I always think about acting school. I let it all hang out - a lot of weirdness and self-sabotage.It took me years to get over it. I made a fool of myself constantly, and not just in the service of art. I prayed and I got through, and at the end of the year, a particularly mean girl admitted she'd been harsh, and that she's appreciated my work.

Still. This one girl stands out - my harshest critic (next to me). We'd tried to connect after having both had a bad day in class, in the beginning of the year. I was embarrassed; so was she, but she covered it perfectly. I (horribly), did no such thing. We tried to connect. I thought she was boring, but was too devastated by just how much I'd sucked to share, and she thought I was weird. And told me so, though adding: I SUPPOSE THAT IS WHY YOU CAN ACT WELL.

(That was thoughtful.)

We both sang well. She occasionally acted well. But really. It went on hatefully between us. One time I was in a group with after class and I said something that offended her, and she said she felt sorry for me.

I held back - then. Later in a scene study I  kicked her ass. I got through to her. Everyone was like - HOORAY. But I always fucking think about her comment to me and the one I bit back: Bitch I've seen Madonna act better.

Here is Where I AM

Back from hustling - I'm babysitting for D, a woman who works for Martha Stewart; her son has a hearing problem. It feels alright because - I've tried 2 others jobs in the city, and they sucked. Here, its like, we both live in Brooklyn and get each other somehow.

My therapist said - I think you would like working with kids who have disabilities, but I have hang-ups. My mother was judgemental (I am putting that gently. She'd say things like: "Did you hit your head? Are you retarded?"here or there, but really why ever?)

I had a friend from college - my best friend - who came to dinner and acted the fool. My mom laughed at her,  and said in Farsi - " Oh, she's the one who's going to get an M.A. is special education? If I didn't know that I would think she was retarded herself." Though my heart sank, I didn't tell my mother NOT to talk in Farsi, NOT to talk about my friend this way, or just: you are hurting me.

I trusted this friend (C). But did not respect her.She didn't really respect herself - I think I asked her about her "shtick" later - why she acted the way she did, and she said her motto was " just be a dummy, they'll love you". I'm revisiting this and its painful. Because I accepted abuse from my family, because I thought it was true. I loved them and accepted their version of me (their dummy) so I wouldn't lose them.

At the Library. Hustling

I am at the library - avoided crazy landlord. Last year we had bed bugs and my entire summer was spent looking though black plastic garbage bags. I'd tried to avoid them, and even tried to warn my landlady to be aggressive when they first appeared in the building:

Her: If you get them, we will spray.

Me:( Fuck you cunt.) I don't want to wait until I get them. My upstairs neighbor has them, I will get them.

Her: Meh.

So this summer I really do not want to: hustle, physically/or emotionally.  Not fun.

So here I am, working hard to make sure it is not the case.

I am listening to Empire State of Mind

My brother cuts in with IM bullshit. He is my mom's emissary, since I've been avoiding her. My sister is her hench person. I am not being paranoid. This is how my family operates, AND, my sister in law who lives here and is an artist, understands and agrees. I am not talking to any of them at the moment. The have successfully delegated THEMSELVES to my spam folder, where all people who piss me off go.

Strange wonderful things: I am writing an email to a potential voice over person. I somehow click into foreign script in Gmail - it is Farsi, my parent's language. I've never done this before, and I don't know how it happened.

I actually feel like it is too much to ask for me to get paid for something I am talented at.. so its brilliant to me, feels like a sign to me, that maybe I am on the right path.

Not strange, but funny - a woman who is in her 40's comes into the library complaining that the book - The Rules - is "cheesy like Snooki". I recommend a book I loved, which has kept me strong: the book: Why Men Love Bitches.

Growing - Connecting with My Body/Heart

I love PJ Harvey. She has a song  - Grow - that I'm thinking about right now. I also love Fionna Apple. I don't care that my ex-boyfriend K says he met her, and she was crazy. (Men always think woman are crazy and I enjoy her musical company).

I bumped into him yesterday. We both live in Greenpoint - here's how we met:

I was living with 2 older female artists in LIC. I had super cheap rent ($300 month). I met them through their post at a Midtown arts center.

I hadn't had a relationship in 5 years. Sometimes painful, but I had needed to be alone. When N, the lease holder, started driving me crazy, I started to think: Maybe I will head out of the apartment, asap. Because it was spring, summer ahead anyway, and what was on the menu for love, etc..

I lived awhile from Vernon. Blvd. I listened to Madonna's album at the time - American Life. I really like this album. I was all: Love Profusion - stretching, stretching, walking - far, and I went to LIC bar frequently. I vibrated up - love - and down, beer.

I had come out of a horrible, traumatic obsession with a guy, my acting teacher, K. When I asked the IChing about it, I frequently got 50 --  the Cauldron: a golden transformation, but for me this has usually meant an ugly, painful depression. And it was. I hadn't know such horrible obsession since I was a kid.We didn't wind up sleeping together, but it helped me change, and it delivered me here: I was hungry -  I had known pleasure before, and thought it came around everyday.

I had dated an Aries when I was 25, it was and intense and hot, but our relationship was short-lived; we actually only had sex 3 or 4 times - I had nibbled because I had assumed life would continue to offer this, but I was wrong; Now I understood better. I prayed: another Aries, please.

One evening I was particularly plagued by N, and I decided I had had enough of both her and abstinence. It is funny that I was pushed out of the apartment by her "crazy" ass - we argued, and as I left she was yelling:   " LIFE ONLY GIVES YOU SO MANY CHANCES!!!  She hounded me all the time.

I went to LIC bar, and as soon as I sat down, and guy came up ordered a beer, and introduced himself - he had the same name as my acting teacher. Cute -- we clicked, and talked. Eventually we left to go to my apartment.

He walked me home - a twenty minute stretch down Vernon Blvd. no subway, or bus, just a football field's length to my rent controlled apt. We got there had a drink, a warm, Pabst beer on my stoop. I couldn't have him in without some bullshit. He went and bought cool beer and we shared cigarettes.Dating him was looking like a good idea. We were on the same wavelength (hate the expression) but there it was. Is.

Pausing to drink a beer and smoke a cigarette.

We went back to his apartment and slept together - it was pretty nice. He asked me for my number and I wrote it down quickly and then didn't think about it.

I was at work a few days later, and he called me because he tracked me down. I worked at a local arts magazine and had told him. He was all - you scribbled your number, not sure if you want to hear from me or hang out.

We did. An awkward start, it heated up after that. We went back to his apartment and slept together again It was the beginning of a 4 year relationship; later I found out he was also an Aries. It just came. Right on time. He told me a year into our relationship: "When we slept together, I woke up and was happy". He had walked, walked -  across a bridge, before he met me.

I loved and needed the time I spent with him. Its done. Nothing disastrous happened; My fears were outrageous: but a part of me guided me through: You have nothing to worry about. The ugliness I cut through - with my heart - I was so insecure.

That's the past.

I'm Bi. I'm truthfully looking - O.K, browsing, for a woman to sleep with.

I just got in touch with this woman on Craig's List. Such bullshit for me in the dating department. I've only made friends there.

This one girl wrote in her post: "Seeking friendship first," and I thought - O.K -  because I'm the type of person who thinks friendship is the foundation of romance.

But when she got back in touch with me she clarified  "People should start as friends because jumping into bed with each other right away is disgusting, LOL." I don't agree - and because she sounded prissy and ridiculous, I didn't respond.

I can just tell by how I click with someone. I know by trusting my instincts and have been obsessed about making them accurate so that I can best connect with people.  O.K, I don't have money  -   I've cared about this -  and still do.

My body knows. I do things, I show myself in ways that can haunt me. But it connects me with the truth and with others.

All I Want to Do is Continue to be High & Artistictic...

Continuing with the theme of honesty. It's painful/interesting that I'm dealing with this now. I asked my therapist to be supportive. She writes down everything I say, so why not how much I drink?  Personally, I'm also trying to  keep track of how productive I really am, and how I spend my money. All of it. (Got that from my acting teacher).And none of this adds up.

I'm scattered, creatively. I'm starting to feel superficial, and pretentious. Smoking and drinking, pushing around jewelry that doesn't get finished and shared. Toying with creating a voice over demo. That is not who I am - I value honesty, integrity, creativity- but where is it now? What am I producing, really?

People I've been involved with also didn't focus on the accuracy and organization. They were like: "FUCK THAT". I'm finding it painful to step away from that and find new people.

I was more productive before moving into my present apartment. First it was like - O.K, I'm going to relax (drink/smoke cigarettes) and roll up my sleeves, and make/do something. Lately it feels like all that is left is relaxing and drinking.

I knew I'd love living in Brooklyn.  I also knew there would be trouble, and there is. It's acceptable to drink all the time, and people joke about being alcoholics.

I'm waiting for my Dr. to call back to discuss my anti-depressants. I can't stand that I am on them, and I feel ashamed and defective. She recommends A.A, and says that I'm self medicating when drinking, and that I'm a survivor - it feels like one step up from addict. Its a label I can embrace (it supports my romantic notion of myself), and also makes me feels like I have the power to change. Everything and everyone is connected. I'm working on getting support, but I don't tell people about where I feel vulnerable.

I keep thinking of the book Women who Run with the Wolves. The author wrote about how you learn things, and then you have to learn to carry them out. You practice. You go through a period (I was 25), you discover truths that you need to live by.

 I can't tell you how many times I wanted to kill myself, because all my fuck-ups feel so painful, and  if I hadn't read that, I might have. I'm still here, but feel like through depression, I've died several times. This one I am going through right now feels huge.

I keep doing my tarot cards, and getting a card where someone comes out into a new place and survives.

Moving Forward - Jobs/Bullshit

I just got the job at a company tutoring business ESL students.. I'm glad - I worked for them ages ago doing a proofreading assignment, and something told me to go check back in with them, since I am considering ESL certification.

Otherwise, the woman L who I babysat for and  who I was so enamored with -- fired me. I worked for her a week. She asked me to buy a 10 pack of train passes, she covered $30 of it; it was $60.The second time I worked for her, I overheard the neighbors talking about her "high turn over rate"  Intuition kicked in and was ignored.The next week she cancelled on me. I asked her to confirm on Thursdays and she cancelled on me again. Finally she got in touch this Friday, and let me know via text, that she didn't need me; all kinds of stuff, totally disregarding my request. I wrote her a straightforward email, calling her on all that - I tried for positive, professional, and asked her for a referral, etc., and she didn't respond.

Meanwhile, I'm catering. I signed up with a new booker the other day. A cool person, but not totally. When I asked about payment he let me know what he pays (above average), but that it takes him up to 3 weeks or longer (because, "checks get lost in the mail". )Um, yeah. I hate that. You don't get charged a cancellation fee each time? Didn't adjust and just offer direct deposit, etc? I can't really deal with that right now.

I recognize my hypocrisy. I'm thinking a lot about my financial integrity. This is good. Before it was often very one-sided as in -  I'm thinking a lot about financial integrity: yours towards me.

It was funny/painful, because I wound up working for this guy at an event on Saturday. Upper West Side, Food/Wine. The kind of event I love - and have been to before, via a job I had with a magazine. But I was catering. It was lame. My tie was weird, catering feels subservient because of my upbringing, and because, it is.

I really felt it when I bumped into L, the mom. She was there with her husband. He eyed me with the same appreciation he did when we met -  she moved rapidly into the direction of some crudite. 

I really wanted to say "Pay me. Now." I was desperately in need of money, and it ached to bite my tongue. I'd never really felt so servile, and humiliated. I felt my mother's judgements, echoing my own, about my humble station in life.

In retrospect, it was a very Les Miz, "I dreamed a dream" moment.

It's also a big reminder that I am not wrong in my assessment of people. I thought L was a flake. I think I doubt myself because my parents always thought  I was woefully trustful and naive.

I am lucky to have been told, "That is your greatest gift", by the acting teacher I respect - and to have read,  " I create art with the 'stupid' part of myself, and write with the intelligent part", otherwise I think I would have written myself off along time ago.

Looking for More Right Work

I am looking for more babysitting jobs, teaching jobs, maybe even catering, but I do that already.  It can be hateful, but it totally motivates me to do more with my life, (and feeds me well).

I will not do housework while babysitting. I've done it before, and felt like the maid. I will not be paid poorly, I've done that before and it was bullshit. Hopefully writing this will help me stick with it.

I had an embarrassing incident recently at an interview. I came in and the mother was like" Yeah, take off your shoes, please." (High maintenance tip-off), so, I did. I had on these awful shoes my old roommate gave me. They are hard to unlace, so I tend to try and kick them off, which has made them worse, because now the soles are loose. She was watching and waiting, so once again, I kicked them off, and made them fall apart even more. I looked down at her feet and she had those pedicure flip flops on, and schnazzy dragon- red toe nails.

Anyway, I go in and they are these really nice interesting people, with a cute kid. I was gazing around liking what I saw: interesting art, furniture, and the apartment was light, spacious. Way up in Harlem, in kind of a dodgy area, but still. I told them about myself  and watched the wife's reaction to me - I sensed jealousy. So I tried to connect with the husband. He was hot - a musician who tours a lot, German. I looked down. He had his (red) shoes on. So I'm back to the wife, because I wasn't sure if I could talk to him without flirting. Anyway, I'm thinking - why is she jealous of me? Maybe because I was talking about some work I'd done in publishing? The grass is always greener... (I guess).

They had a copy of the Cheap Bastards Guide to New York. I joked that I had read it in a bookstore so that it was, The Cheap, Cheap Bastards Guide to New York.We chatted about that, and they seemed like the type of people who I would be friends with, which made meeting them  under the circumstances a bit awkward for me. The husband eventually went to tune his guitar, and I was left to discuss finances with the wife.

I explained that paying for transportation out of my own pocked would mean I would be paid $7 and hour, so I preferred $15 hr, not $12. She did not look interested or convinced. She explained somewhere in there that they would be out of town for 2 months in the summer. I had a feeling that I probably wouldn't get it due to my asking for more money. However, she did ask me to stay take care of her daughter for an hour, which I did.

Towards the end of the hour and then she came out and was like... blah blah blah, we'll let you know, but I knew I didn't get it. She walked me to the door, and I kind of wanted to make a swift and graceful exit, but my shoes refused to cooperate. I struggled while she watched me - she said " oh the broken shoes," and I attempted to be glib and dignified while struggling to get in to my shoes and away from the job I didn't get.

I finally made it out of there. I rode the long subway home, feeling like complete shit. I pulled myself out of it, tried to think straight -  Note to self: wear better shoes to interviews. And: these people are selfish, they guard their own bottom line, and I need to as well without the guilt.

So, onward. I am trying to get work in business ESL and have an interview to prepare for... I want to try to focus on that instead.

Home Now

My roommate isn't here and I'm SO GLAD. She went out of town for a week.

I was in a tight spot when I accepted her, it was an awkward time of year to get a roommate (March).

When G came to see the apt, she could pay the rent, I basically liked her - but when I listened to my intuition -  it said - WAIT! I usually take my time and choose the person when I feel the perfect intuitive click.

So here we are.

She is younger than me, and grew up middle class, like me. I haven't gotten all of the details. She has let me know that her mom was wealthy before she met her dad, who is Googleable...whatever. Who she is now is the person who is in my converted living room/loft and home. All.The.Time, but then, so am I.

She also wears a headband, smokes pot, stays in most evenings. She went to Columbia and says "Word" or "Yo".  She judges me and the apartment - we judge each other. She does like my kitchen cabinets, though, which she called, "sick", because it's pretty and you can add shelves as needed.

On Sundays, she pulls out her laptop and works from home - I hate that. She's an irritating person's irritating person.

We hung out and talked one evening, drank, and smoked her pot. She opened up to me and told me that she  is bipolar, and that it runs in her family. Later, I heard her crying; strange, muffled sobs, that sounded like quacking at first.

She leaves her medication in the bathroom cabinet, and I always just ignored it to be polite. The next morning I looked at it - it's the same ones I take for depression.

When I told my friend, he said," You waited to check out her medication till after you heard quacking sounds?"

Acting/Life -- Integrity - Shhh. Don't Talk, Show me

I had an acting teacher, R, when I was 23. I still think about him almost everyday. He had a lot of demons, but when I think about geniuses and their timeless art, I think about him. I am still learning from what he taught me.

I met him after a big transition. There had been a fire in my building; my neighbor died, and I had been trapped in my apartment, but survived. I moved, started to mediate, and fell in love. That summer my friend dragged me to his class, and I felt my acting come back to life for the first time in years. I wasn't afraid of flopping - mistakes didn't exist, and I flew creatively. This is a dream I had about him at the time: My mom yells at me all the time and hurts me. I cross a great river and get to R.

He invited me into his fall master class. By that time though, I was obsessed romantically, and meditation had made me self-conscious, and egotistical. He had a lot of praise for me, but I didn't do much. I just sat there, judging people, and then offering them authoritative, deep insights during critiques. I had become afraid to make mistakes.

He said at one point that I am a writer, and also a dreamer. That part hurts (as I am waking up again). He cast me in his play though, and I flew again, then died in a fire when my romantic life blew up.

I traveled, and when I came back to his class months later, I had been in a deep, ugly depression for months. I was scared, and disconnected from others. I did a monologue, which he watched expressionless - then he told me to watch his.

I'd never seen him perform before, and the experience was like a shock treatment for my spirit. I left the room and cried, suddenly aware of my living death, because I had been hurled out of depression and brought back to life.

Since I am getting moving, I've been thinking of the acting expression - show - don't tell. You can tell who a character is through their actions, but this is also what it means to have character. Saying what you believe and doing it is integrity. I want to be this person.

In improvisation, you make a decision, and commit. I haven't been applying what I know fully; I'm sometimes half-hearted. I don't believe in myself because I look at my life, see my mistakes, and I'm afraid I'll fuck up. Then there is another part of me that says: Get up - I'm learning. Trust me. I can move forward. If you give me an action, I can do it. 

To do so, I can't sit in judgement of myself, with people who aren't artists, like my parents.

 I know who I am in my heart - I am a work in progress - 

.

I Know Where Love Lives

Here is a poem I found many years ago that speaks about loving yourself and not making someone else necessary/responsible for those beautiful feelings we have when we fall in love.

It also reminds me of something I read once which said: "All love is self-love".

It takes practice, and this is a good reminder.

Poem for the Woman Who Doesn’t Want a Daughter

                        By Karen Ethelsdattar

I want you to look at yourself in the mirror & say

“& God created Woman & she is good”

I want you to look at yourself in the mirror

& say “God is a Woman”

I want you to look at yourself in the mirror

& say “I am God’s Daughter”

I want you to look at yourself

with a lover’s eye

& write a poem about yourself that way

I want you to taste yourself & feel yourself & smell yourself

& study how to please yourself

the way you study

the way you were trained to study

to please men

I want you to study women walkin’ down the street

the way you study men

How their hips swing & their breasts sway

& their hair goes free in the wind

& I want you to exult & sing,

“I am one of them”

I want you to bathe yourself like a baby

with scented oil till you gleam

I want you to watch the muscles of women ripple

& say to yourself

how beautiful it is when women are strong

I want you to go to your hairdresser

& say, “I want it natural.

I like the way I am.”

I want you to go through a hundred women’s magazines

& tear out every page on cosmetics & beauty care

& how to reduce yourself to a shadow

& make a fire & let them burn

I want you to boycott perfumed toilet paper

& use an outhouse for a week

in the heat of the summer

& sit there with the door hangin’ open

& look out at the trees

I want you to study proud women

& character lines

in the faces of old women

& think on every woman in your life

who did you good

I want you to find a portrait

of a great woman

& paste it over your television screen

I want you to ask for help from other women

& help them in return

& every time you feel turned on

I want you to close your eyes & say

“This is me. This comes from within.”

Blech. Why Did I Do That?

I keep doing this thing with men: they hurt me and I go back to them. The broken record of my heart says, "why, why, why?" I don't want to let go; I'm tired of starting over. I'm thinking of the line in the Pretenders song: "We fall but we keep getting up, over and over and over".

I know what my therapist would say:  that I keep seeking out love that is familiar to me - hot, then cold, (like my mother), but I think at least I'm ready to stop learning with the same person more than once.

Tonight I was thinking about a man and a woman I became friends with in my 20's, when I was a waitress. They'd sit in my section, drink wine all evening, and when I was done, I would join them. So they indulged me when I talked about the loss of my first love. It was a deep cut; He'd gone again, and I gushed. "WHERE IS HE??" The woman replied, "There is no 'he' there." I was so confused about his disappearance and re-appearance in my life. When I was with him I felt love, gained faith in my instincts, and flew. But he could only take me so far - he was wrong for me, and when I believed he was the source of my love, he'd let me down and leave. This was the gift and lesson of the relationship - it had only been meant to bring me to the source of my love - myself. But I wouldn't accept it. I wanted it so desperately to be HIM. Alone, I'd struggle to grow strong, then he would turn up again, and I couldn't resist him, or the hope that I was wrong. But I wasn't, and the cycle would repeat. Over and over.

I remember, too, that the man, an old Scottish minister, told me to take heart: "Your true love will always surprise you."

I think I understand the gift of the latest relationship: it was to help me develop my creativity. I am alone again, there is no "he", and I am not surprised.

Mothers That Wallop

My mother told me how horrible I was when we last spoke. It was quite a "mother wallop".

Sharing her hatred towards me was actually the best gift she has given me in ages. It was her honest opinion. I know it is there, but her typical m.o. is to deny it, and have it hang over me, which is worse. I feel it, and it conflicts with my own self-opinion, and I seem to always try to nudge her towards honesty. To move forward, I have to let her and her opinion of me go. I left home, literally at 17, and never came back. I think they always expected me to. Emotionally, I stayed put, under her thumb.

I am babysitting these days for extra cash. Really time to kick it up a notch and do more with my life. (Actually I was working the other day, and I thought, " OH MY GOD. I HAVE TO CHANGE MY LIFE!!") I work for 2 families - one in Brooklyn, and the other is just outside of the city. The second mom is cool and nice. The kids, smart and wonderful. I found myself looking at everything in their apartment enviously: Their wine glasses sparkled!(They had more than one of them). They had a dishwasher. The mom is also creative....   I suddenly found my motivation for babysitting suspicious. Am I slowly, semi-consciously making the trawl towards suburban motherhood? Am I getting away from you mom, or imitating and becoming you?

Loving Correctly - How to Move Forward

I'm thinking a lot about men/women and loving well and correctly --

I'm often in so much emotional pain; sometimes thinking and moving at the same time feels like cutting myself. I spoke with someone at the bar this evening who seemed so hurt when I stepped away from our casual conversation. I checked back in with her and said " Hope you didn't take that personally - my walking away had nothing to do with you"  and she said:" No, I'm much harder than I appear. I mean I'm sensitive, but I'm like a raw nerve that has been exposed too long".

I totally understood; I'm older than her, my drink was lighter, but I am still tending to wounds constantly. With distractions of all kinds - nothing correct, that feeds me properly, that moves me forward.

I spoke with my bartender friend about his creative projects and he said: "Whatever - I'm exhausted - I'm not fueling my creativity - I just keep barreling through."

Are we all just numbing ourselves?

I'm thinking about men and women, the correct use of energy, and the balance between heart and head.

I just got out of a short-lived relationship. It seems pointless, and I feel stupid. I keep trying to love people correctly and I'm hard on myself and others. I do use my head but I am viciously perfectionistic. Often perfectly vicious.

I went outside last night to take a photo of a "Beware of Dogs" sign to send to a girlfriend of mine who shares my cynicism and issues regarding men. I took the picture and sat down in front of an apartment building. I looked across the street and there were these lovers and it was so sweet. There was moonlight, and a shared beer and they just stood there holding each other. When she walked away, she didn't look back, but he just stood, with a look of awe on his face, watching her go for awhile. I drank it in from my stoop. Then another girl came running around the corner and sat down next to me to wait for friends to come downstairs. She told me she was a photographer and told me where she lived. It was my old street.

The synchronicity made me think: maybe the relationship wasn't completely useless; when we were together I dreamt that I had met him in order to move into the drivers seat of my creativity.

I'm thinking about synchronicity and how people can move you forward - both of you imperfect, your art can be imperfect - but these moments of sweetness are so worth it.

Magic(k)

Creativity is a spiritual calling, and a magic is described as working with the divinity in you to create something -

I don't understand people and artists in particular, who don't believe in spirituality or magic

When I say a spell that works, I see it rise like a shadow in my mind's eye, and feel my way into a place of belief, then the release in my body as I let go in faith. Getting it to work on a consistent basis has been difficult.

Both magick and art are collaboration with the divine.

Background - Family - the Bold Female Escapes

My parents are Iranian, and they came to NY in '69, then moved to Philadelphia before I was born.
Everyone in my family is in medicine -  education and status is a big deal.

I came here to study theater after getting a B.A in English, 11 years ago. I've also been a part of 2 theater companies here - one Shakespeare, the other was comedy/improvisation. I've worked in education, and publishing; on the side, I've worked childcare, catering, and backstage in fashion.

I haven't really done anything that I feel is substantial. I'm well-read, and creative.  I've done a lot of interesting things. It doesn't feel like its enough anymore for me to feel O.K about myself. And it definitely is not the best I can do. I am so much stronger and more resourceful than when I moved here, and although I'm passionate about art, I haven't applied myself diligently to putting my creative work out there.

Focus is a problem for me -  I have a hard time choosing between writing, acting, singing, design, which I'm learning to do. I know I should choose something, work on it until it is self-sustaining, and do the next one. As a child this was a problem as well. In elementary school we chose an instrument to learn; I started with the flute, went back for the violin, and returned yet again to exchange it for the viola, at which point the elderly music teacher yelled "NOOO! GET OUT!!!" (I eventually studied the piano elsewhere. For a little while.)

I've had R.O's. (romantic obsessions). Focus is not an issue in this area. It's a major distraction.

I've been reading the IChing/Kuan Yin for about 15 years.  Hexagram-wise, a lot of these relationships were:  50  - The Cauldron. Vessels that help me transform. Painfully. A lot of hexagram 44 (bold female, don't marry her), as well as 56 ( The Wanderer).

I prefer the feminist Kuan Yin - because yes, I am bold (and single) but I don't feel I'm judged/condemned in that version, and I don't think anyone needs to be warned about me.

I don't live in the same city as my family because: (a) I'm the black sheep (b) Their notion of family seems to be: let's hold hands till we die. Nobody go anywhere!(d) Accepting abuse/bullshit from people who tell me I have no sense of family otherwise is ridiculous.(e)  I wanted to be in New York, and I don't believe there is a difference between being true to myself and to others.

Just the Basics

Here are some basics about myself -  I'm a female artist in my 30's, who lives in Brooklyn.

"T" is for Tabitha, a pen name.

I am writing a blog to be more active creatively - and to look more closely at why it has been difficult for me in the past.

Topics that interest me that you will find here:

My day to day life, and also how it supports me or doesn't work

Art, (White) Magic, spirituality

Sex, relationships, feminism, self-esteem

The I Ching/Kwan Yin, dreams, numerology, astrology

Writing, acting, singing, design, authors/books I love

A lot about work - I want more right work in my life, and focus, follow through, consistency, accountability, feel particularly relevant to my life right now

Addictions and whatever else I use to stall myself