#whatever i guess. first step call and see wtfs going on w my insurance

[angelstrawbabie420]

crazy how i have no one

[monolid-monologues]

Wtf is going on - Part I.

#12.

READY OR NOT..............

The next three weeks feel impossible. 

My KNEES are KNOCKING.

TOO MUCH IS HAPPENING

Fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m losing my mind lol. I’m going to take myself through this week by week. Breaking up my next 3 blog posts into a Three part series, and i’m going to slowly tread wtf is going on.

1.) MY JOB, MY LIFE

Karina and i drove LA >> Oakland >> LA in one day to audition for 5 minutes. LoL. We’re crazy and we know that. The troubling fact is this job means quitting my current one and moving to Oakland.

In February at the festival in Oregon, we were invited to audition for Kaiser Permanente’s Educational Theatre. They employ actors to perform shows for kids.

It pays more than my current job. It is less stable than my current job.

I’m TERRIFIED of having *that* conversation with my dad, and my office.

Desperate to avoid a serving job (having worked them since i was 16), i approached my dad for a job at his company. He knows about me and theater. He knew to be cautious. He asked me commit 2 years. I promised my dad 2 years; it’s only been 6 months. There’s a voice in my head chiding me for even considering this new opportunity.

And part of me is very very resistant to the reality of this new opportunity. Moving to Oakland means moving away from Robin, from Heather, from my studio, from all the work i’ve been doing in L.A to lay down some roots. Working full time at a corporate theater. Suffering bay area rent. Potentially losing my dad’s support (he is helping me with car and insurance payments). And pouring so much time into someone else’s theater. And potentially neglecting my own dreams -- risk of being too burnt, busy and broke to manifest my own theater projects. Not to mention all my fears around the importance of artistic freedom to me and needing to comply with a higher authority for paycheck’s sake (literal nightmare). And i just, might, very well, possibly, end up hating the job. 

I fear breaking my promise. Going back on my word. Owning up to the fact that i am not the loyal bitch we hoped i was. I fear these feelings of betrayal. I fear upsetting my dad and losing his support. I fear the disrespect i am slamming on my director & cecillia’s time and energy and trust in me. I fear that there is no “good” decision, but i can see Regret sitting atop my worst case scenario and i’m afraid that it doesn’t even really matter how things go, whether i stay or go, it’s all a sticky situation. 

If i get the job, but don’t go, i am still at the office. Sitting. So much sitting............clutching my small studio time like the life jacket it is...

If i get the job and want go, well, fuck, that’s a lot of, fuck. Can i put my independent theater dreams on hold? Is this experience worth pursuing? Is it worth upsetting my entire life here? Wow. Since when did i get so attached to my life here? I’ve worked so hard since i’ve been here, to seek, and seek, and plan, and build. I’ve been planning for my life here in L.A. I NeVER imagined relocating this soon. Turning my life upside down when i’ve literally JUST managed to get it looking right-side-up. f$&%@#$!

OKAY Normally, i’d wait to see if i got called back to start worrying. But this opportunity requiring 600 mile drives, requiring me and karina to rearrange chunks of our lives, to even be considered for the job, makes every step in the audition process so costly o_o.  We’re asking ourselves “if we do get called back, how are we even going to get there?”  We’re investing and sacrificing for a huge Maybe. Even pursuing the possibility is TOO MUCH!!!! yet here we are. Why? Why am i this crazy about a maybe?

L.A.’S BEEN GROWING ON ME. AND I MIGHT NOT GET THE JOB. LET’S KEEP IT SIMPLE, STUPID -- 

Tomorrow, we will find out if we’re called back. If we’re called back, the one thing i need to do (the scariest fkn thing ok) is ask for another day off (to secretly attend). If god blesses me with a Yes and my director is NOT fed up with my bullshit, the next thing is figuring out how tf to get there.  And that’s it. That’s it. That’s it. For now.

* * *

An interlude.)

What changes when i decide i’m tired of doubting myself? Staying off social media is a great relief. I stepped back because i was starting to carry some duty to entertain or cater to the tastes of the people who engage with what i post. The anxiety that begins to stir between myself and thoughts of people far away -- with heavy social media comes this baggage we pick up and hold nearly voluntarily. 

Just as we are curious how someone else’s life is going, we imagine other people are curious about ours. 

We second-guess what we want to post.  When it’s about what we want to share in the first place. How anybody receives it is their business. Leave them tf ALONE, LOL. Leave YOURSELF alone!

If it’s your career, you chase one of few formulas. If it’s your hobby, you draw from these formulas and mix in your personal flavor of “idgaf”. And if it’s mostly irrelevant to what you do/what you want, you’re not even bothered. *shrug* 

Every fuckin body will tell you, people who don’t frequent social media are happier. 

Do you think so? Do we think so?  I’m skeptical.  It’s easy to believe, given how much (admit it) time and attention social media sucks. But actually? Let’s be clear: who can know? Lol. The very point around people who don’t use social media is they are beyond the reach of our prying eyes. They are safe, much less susceptible to the wandering imagination of a distant relationship. They are out of bounds. 

Sometimes i wish i was that kind of person. Whoever that means.

I’m not. 

There’s something about getting to show something to hundreds of people. There’s something about connections waiting to be made. Paths that could cross. Click-holes where we lean outside of our usual environments. We are open to exposure and being exposed. We are creative with our public image. We narrate our own lives. We seek others’. ThaT PART. That part. “I will engage!!!!!!!!!!” 

Is it possible to have a healthy relationship with social media?

What does that look like?

There’s so much in our culture that discourages social media use - from mental health to physical health - we are told every day what the pitfalls are. We know it ourselves in living our lives. The common denominator to these warnings is usually over-consumption. Too much. Much too much.

If we are using social media, we are at risk. We know the risks. We live with the risks. ALAS -  we believe we can manage the time/space distortion that the social media universe rips into our lives. 

With social media comes this massive gravitational pull sucking us into a manufactured world. This tech, as far as i’m concerned, insanely complicates our lives - adding data to bodies, instant X long distance everything, and a level of productivity concerning online metrics that is often inversely proportional to our productivity offline. 

The most estranged relationships continue to fizzle quietly with mutual following. Our brains buzz “To post or not to post”. And our eyes are getting tired, our thumbs sore; our time and attention sinks and slips away from us. Like retribution for the discontent, disinterest, and laziness we risk habituating with social media.

We give access and have access and the ride is crippling or energizing depending on whatever people or time in your life. 

Do the rewards outweigh the risks?

* * *

II. SHOWTIME

IT’S GO TIME.

While i’m floundering in the dark about my job, my life, March is ending soon and come April comes the premiere and one-month-run of my new production, 1-800-PERFECTION. 

This is my first show in socal. My first show outside of Davis. My first full solo work. My first script-based PLAY in YEARS.

March Timeline:

meeting with studio manager to settle performance dates (today)

last full rehearsal (3/24 SAT)

tech rehearsal with Heather (3/30 SAT)

preview performance w/ talk back (3/31 SUN) YOU’RE INVITED. rose.artrat@gmail.com | please come! TIME: 1-3pm LOCATION: 1183 Kraemer Blvd, Anaheim, CA

April Timeline:

Dress Rehearsal  (week 1, TBD)

1st Show (week 2, TBD)

2nd show (week 3, TBD)

3rd Show (week 4, TBD) Tickets: $12 venmo  (seat reserved) or $10 cash at door (exact change!!!)

My radical marketing plan is to do it in person.  I wanna shit my pants thinking about it, but i’m determined to go out there into public places and invite people to my show face 2 face. I will certainly let you know how it goes. The experience may turn up a giant dumpster fire. :-)

Common questions when opening a new work include: what if ppl hate it? what if i hate it? what if no one comes? what if this is the end of my reputation as an artist as we know it? as i know it? what if i’m not ready? 

What if i didn’t rehearse enough? THIS ONE’S BEEN HAUNTING ME.

My best friend asks me how long i’ve been working on this play. I tell her i can afford 20 hours of studio time a month. It’s been almost 4 months now. And then she’s like, isn’t 20 hours...less than a day?  *brain explodes* Have i only worked on my show for LESS THAN 4 DAYS? IS IT LIKE THAT? 

It has been living, growing, changing with me day to day. But of course, 20 hours is really it of dedicated work time/space. 5 hours a week. 

I am used to working 30 hours per weeeeeek on a show.  that’s what i’m used to.

....................................................

I remember when i first found this studio offering exactly what i was looking for and could afford, i was ELATED to get 20 hours a month. Considering the ZERO work i was doing my first 2 months back in LA -- Getting 1 step closer to where i would be today - on the cusp of running a whole original ass show - was mooooreee than enough. 

But this is honestly one worry out of SO MANY, literally so many, that it’s all looking - sounding - and feeling increasingly ridiculous. because there’s just so much. *laugh cry emoji* * * * I’m never going to forget what i signed up for. Everything on my plate, i set up for myself.

Was i ready for all of this? No. Did i dream this up and seek its fruition? Hell yes. Even i know that only time will tell me What was What.  So, i will take it one fkn day at a time.

Maybe this is a lesson to follow your dreams no matter what, precisely BECAUSE you’ll never be ready for it. I can’t imagine being ready for what i’m going through these days. There’s no fucking way i could’ve known how stickyyyy things could get when i made my first studio payment in December, or asked my dad for a job in October.

But go through with it, we will, because we’ve reached the point where we must. I’m. Not. Looking. Back.

BUT I AM REALLY TRYING TO TAKE CARE OF MY HEALTH WHILE I’M WHIZZING ACROSS THE STATE AND PREPARING ALL THE SHOW THINGS. WISH ME SOME HONEST LUCK ON THAT.

So, I don’t have a dramatic poignant closer for you on this one. Let’s, uh, give that to Part 3, when we wrap this whole mess up. (ie. is Oakland rlly happening? how was canvassing the brea mall to advertise my show LMAO? did i lose my damn mind, or nah?)

Hi.  I just want to say, thank you for reading. Really. thank you.

I think my writing is suffering from the craziness atm.

* * *

i’ve committed to being vulnerable in writing every week.

previous letter: #11. detox,

drop me a line

http://monolid-monologues.tumblr.com/ask

[gibbyj]

goodnight and goodbye handsome

7.13.21 / 2:21 am

fuuuuuck i’m high!!’ turns out if you don’t smoke all day you get literally blasted. anyways hahaha, that’s not the point is it?

if you’ve gotten this far, i assume you’re reading this. honestly, i assume you’re reading this anyway. maybe not tonight, or tomorrow, but for some reason you’ll come. in a few days, you’ll visit my page.

here’s the thing, i know why i visit you. i’m in love with you. it’s really that simple. i tell people that, and i think that. deep down, i fear it may not be true. i’m terrified i’ve wasted years of my life craving a fling. and yet, deeper down, i’m drawn to you. i’m trapped in your fucking wave.

that’s a song you told me to listen to. do you remember why we broke up? hahahaha, i guess that’s a dumb question. in this world, everyone genuinely has their own truth. their own steps they’ve walked in this world to get to the version of themselves and their surroundings in their mind. [side note: that’s pretty fucking poetic right? i came up with that in 10 seconds high as a kite, please start writing again? i miss it, the world misses it. what happened to your notebook? ik you have ideas in there]

anybays, here’s my full version of why i genuinely believe you broke up with me. 1) you had a crush on her, and you were attracted to her 2) you were hurt bc i had been in texting him 3) we were fighting a lot 4) we had been getting bored 5) i was kinda petty and a bitch 6) i had been lying to you (and the world) for most of my life 7) i had been intentionally distancing myself and avoiding you 8) i’m SURE things i’m forgetting

i’m sure that’s incomplete, and perhaps incompatible with your version of events. i had also already broken up with you, that was a major factor. i used to point this out to our friends, and anyone who would listen to me, that you followed a similar path. when was the last time you were genuinely single, 14? 15? i don’t point that out to say that you weren’t able to grow, i’ve spent most of my grown life in love. but you always had someone lined up. you didn’t get rid of me until you had someone else to kiss.

i did that too, but i got bored. i really thought you would get bored. and i’m sorry, i wish i didn’t wish that. every part of me wants to have been able to let you go after i had written my first goodbye. but here’s the thing. you responded, quickly. and i’m sorry, im genuinely sorry for all of the times i reached out to you. im sorry for trying to add you on snapchat. im sorry for messaging you when i thought you were trying to talk to me. and im really, really, sorry for blacking out and texting you.

but here’s the, thing. you responded. you respond quickly. why do you check on me? seriously, why? sometimes i think, probably more like hope, you’re here bc i look good in my pictures, bc obviously that’s my intention. but why do you talk to me? and no, you dont. that’s really hard to explain to the people closest to me. no, we don’t talk, he like subtweets me? but i swear i’m not crazy. no really, they’re original posts, what else could they be?

and i dissect them, over and over again. i listen, i think about it, i picture you singing in your car, or smiling with your eyes closed. i think of you in your bed, thinking of me, and i don’t know why. because you don’t talk to me, you don’t seem to like me, and you don’t seem to be unhappy.

i drove past your house tonight. and in my FUCKING defense, it’s an alternative to my gd house, no one seems to understand that it’s literally like not a detour and i get home in the same amount of time. but i really don’t know why i do it. because i’m never happy. it’s never what i want. here’s what i want, i want you walking to your car, and seeing me drive past, i’d wave, slow down, and say hi. and finally ask for a goddamn explanation.

but that’s never going to happen. and i have to accept that. that’s never going to happen. i’m never going to rest my head in your neck, or hold your hand, or kiss you, or hug you, or laugh with you, or sing, or drive, or talk to you ever again. and that makes me so sad.

as i write that, i can feel the blood draining from my arms, and my stomach fell. i will probably go to sleep tonight, and even though i’ll distract myself with cormac mccarthy, i’ll be sad tonight.

my grandmom died on thanksgiving. i’m sure you don’t remember, but she was my best fucking friend. i’m not gonna talk about that, but i bring it up to say that if i’m being honest, my bones feel the same now as they did then.

we’re dead. the glimmer of me that believes in us, that picture going to concerts, seeing you drunk, dancing and laughing and singing and kissing and fucking and driving and watching movies and making jokes and living life together is gone. it’s dead. it has to be dead.

i went to barnes and noble today, and i looked for your car in the parking lot. i went to ocean city, and i scanned the top of the crown looking for your smile. and then i went to hammonton.

i got drinks with an ex tonight, don’t worry it wasn’t you. we have nothing in common, but he’s a good friend to me, and he’s really supportive and is always there for me, which tbh isn’t a common trait among my good friends. we talked, and it was pretty boring, but it was nice. and i asked him wtf you were doing. what it meant. why. if i should drive past your house.

he said no, i shouldn’t. he didn’t understand why i would choose to hurt myself that way. i showed him your page, and he chuckled a little. i dissect your feed, i visit you in the morning and the evening. every original post a message. a reaction or a plea in some way.

he told me i was crazy, which he isn’t wrong about. and the funny thing is, the truth is probably somewhere in the middle. sometimes, i fear i’m just a joke. maybe you guys watch me together, listen to my songs and laugh at the desperation between the lyrics. but, i really don’t think that’s it. you’re better than that. you’re nice, people don’t know that, to be honest you don’t always show that, but you have such a pure heart. and i don’t think you’re that gross.

maybe i’m wrong, and gd if i am gg sis you really found your person. but i don’t think im talking to both of you. i really, really think im talking to you. sometimes, it really feels like im talking to you. like you’re next to me, if i close my eyes, i can almost feel your hands on me.

but, im not. you’re in that deer town, and im in the college court. we’re thirty miles, and three years apart from one another. we’ve grown and changed and flipped upside down from those kids hanging out at the voorhees mall.

and so im left to figure out by myself why you’re here. why despite you being far and happy, you come to haunt me. you know, most exes emotionally haunt their ex, not legitimately leave unnecessary and misleading breadcrumbs.

i have a whole slew of degrees now, so i’ve come to my best version of a guess: you’re filing your insurance card. and you know what? four hours ago, i really would have been okay with that. i would have dated and waited and dated and waited until you came crying back, because you were my person. you were my goddamn dream boy. and i couldn’t believe i had you.

i let you go so quickly. and goddamn julia you didn’t let anyone go. here’s what i realized: anyone can fight for anyone. if you wanted me as badly as i want you, you would be here. here, here. but you’re not. instead, she’s there.

and i finally realized, what’s the goddamn point? i don’t know if you realized bro but i’m literally a gd catch. also, tbh i’m a lady w 38ddds so i can laid truly anytime i need to. and more importantly, i’m funny. i’m nice. im kind and i’m compassionate and caring and giving and smart as hell and really fun to hang out with. im a great singer, and a really fun dancer. and guys realize that.

there are so. many. guys like you. and i don’t mean that to be rude, trust me i didn’t know that this morning. but there are funny guys out there. there are guys who will go crazy when i take my clothes off and call me when i’m sad, and they’ll be happy to do it. they’ll be excited to be with me, i won’t be a back up.

and so, i’m giving myself that opportunity. i’m letting myself let go of you, to bury you and us alongside the memories i’m grateful for. so thank you, for teaching me all of my favorite bands. for making me laugh, and holding me when i needed you to. for kissing me, for loving me, and for reminding me that even now, im still a little special.

but i’m not going to sit around and wait for you to react. im not going to check on your songs, or your liked posts, or drive past your goddamn house. im not going to obsess over what you’re trying to say, because if you wanted to say it, you would. you wouldn’t hide it in spongebob songs, you would just message me. you would say hi.

but you dont, and deep down, i know you wont. god, even now, i want this to turn you inward. but when it doesn’t, or if it does and you still want nothing to do with me, i’m not gonna cry. because i really, really, really believe i’m gonna be okay.

i hope you’re okay too. i really, really wish you nothing but the best in this world. whatever this world brings you, i hope it comes with happiness, the ability to find joy in any situation, laugh at the small things. i believe in you, i hope you learn to believe in yourself.