damp to dry

I left a very whiny and sad post the other day.

And I would like to gladly report I dug myself out of that hole with two things: house cleaning & good ol' exercise.

Who knew cleaning the house could raise such sodden feelings!?

Feeling Blue

Whenever I feel blue I like to look at the people I admire, and the people who rocked the 60s with fearlessness and a somewhat dazed path. Hence, Miss Brigitte to the left.

I have been feeling so down. It's like the spring upheaval. I always feel a little out of control in the spring. My mother says it's because there is a lot more energy coming up from the ground; new shoots, new flowers, everything is being born again. But I have just been feeling low, instead of newly born.

I have very little money. Never a great feeling. I put too much importance on money, this I know. But I do not like the lingering worries of not being able to pay my bills. Someone asked me the other day how I do it. I didn't know what she meant. Do what? I asked. Pay for everything, support yourself, do your parents help out? No, I pay for my car, my insurance, my school loans, my rent (a great rent price), food, gas, utilities, the list is long and starting to sound like a whine. I do not want to whine here; it just surprised me that I have been doing without my parent's support for a while. My mum helps here and there when she can. But I certainly don't have a savings or a trust fund or any kind of real net. And I've known for a long, long time I don't have my parent's support--she can't do it. My grandfather can't do it. My father doesn't make it available.

I got myself to carry and this I have always been able to do: jobs have popped up conveniently, money has come in at the last second, I have been a steady worker while trying to maintain my peace and my balance and my craft and love for acting. And soon to resume, painting.

I feel far away from my goals. And it's as if I have trapped myself from moving forward. It's like my thoughts of doubt and attempts at smoothing the present out are just putting up stone walls in the future, and I find myself smacking into them. There is very little action on actor's access. And I can't tell you how tired I am of non-union projects and student films, however great the content or lovely the people, it is not want I want to be doing. I can't help but envy friends who are booking pilots and filming features.

I feel broken and like I'm sliding down a hill, but trying to keep my eyes on the summit, but my heart is heavy and heavier all the time.

How can I turn myself around, alter my perspective? I just don't know right now. I just keep muttering, My Time Will Come.

West Coast Disappointment

Blind Man
Hurt Man
More of a child than a Man.
You don't even know what a mess you've made.
How many people have you hurt?

Is it easy for you to live in a tunnel or on a mountain?
I could never be so alone with my fears and my paranoia and my guilt as you do.

I've cast so much energy out into you; and you've either gobbled it up or let it pass right through you.
I am sorry for you. Perhaps you don't see it, but you are your greatest enemy. You self-destruct at every chance.
But it's you who needs more kindness than anyone in this world. You just never ask for it. You'd rather suffer. And we give you hot coals to walk on because you feed us a lot of fear and egg shells.

I'm leaving this stepping stone out on the walk way for you.
I've never been so close before, and now you want nothing but to be as far away as possible.
I'm leaving this stepping stone in case you want it.
Maybe in the fall you'll see it's always been there.

Yesterday was Mother's Day

You.
You are not the person I remember you as.
I look at you now through the eyes of another, one who has missed out on your glory, your flame, your spark.
You are a forlorn leaf.
Settling into your life now, or what you imagine is the way it will end up.
You fall upon little things, forgetting to look up and away from your scraped knees.
Did you know that you used to be God-like?
You once were a super hero whom I studied and watched and I found nothing wrong with you.
You influenced every core of my being: my cuckold knowledge, my efforts to balance out your outspoken & 0-10 anger, your fiesty, bandit nature.
Instead of mimicking, I often compensated with muteness or apologies.
I was afraid of the kind of thing you would pull.
So I chose a quieter tone of voice.
And now you have chosen to do the same, many years later. You've lost that blindness when you're in a room full of company, known and unknown.
Who was it opened your eyes?
Is it me you are copying?
Have you learned that it doesn't help to scream and shriek?
And yet it is still so hard for you to say the quiet things like "thank you."
Where have you gone? And what have you done with the pieces I loved so well?