Happy birthday....to me???

This just in. My birthday weekend is going to be simultaneously dumb and awesome.

Saturday, June 14th
9:30AM: Donate blood for one of my best friends, who is having surgery and needs backup O-.
8:00PM: Arrive at Showtime Theater for Sick Puppies Show warm up.
9:00PM-10:30PM: Sick Puppies Show
11:00PM: Meet Youth Group and drive 14 hours to Manassas, VA for a week long Mission Trip. 11:00PM-12:00AM: Bloodlessly sing Kumbaya for an hour to annoy Youth Pastor.

Sunday, June 15th-My actual Birthday
All Day: Drive to Manassas. Sing more Kumbaya.

I'll be in VA til the 20th. Sleeping on air mattresses. In a church. There may be indoor showers. They may be communal. They may be outside. There may be a/c.  Participants make the meals. We'll be doing good work in the area and I get to hang out with some pretty cool kids. The adults are ok. :)

At least we'll be getting home some time on the 20th. I think. Who knows at this point?!?!?!?

Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me. I am an idiot who says yes to everything. 

Happy birthday to me 

My head is now public property.

"Hey, Baldy!" yelled the overweight man as he passed by my office door, light gleaming off of his completely shaven, bulbous noggin.  He had the back of the neck ripple. It's weird.

'He didn't even donate. How DARE Mr. Clean call me that,' I simmered, already angst filled from a frustrating day at the day job of doom.  I realized then that I gave up rights to my head of hair as soon as I posted my first notification for the St. Baldrick's event. People now have OVERT opinions on my choice to shave, on my appearance now that I have shaved, and the growing out process. And I want to punch them.

A kind gentleman today told me I was stupid for cutting all my hair off.  Another gentleman said that I was beautiful, and that I should keep it short. They feel like the own a piece of me now, and it's frustrating that I can't express to them that while I invited them into my life for the shave, I don't really need them now. It's hard enough dealing with my short haired self worth issues without adding on the opinions of strangers.  Do I like my hair this close cropped? Not really. I look like a q-tip stuck into a basketball with legs. It's ok. It'll grow out. Am I glad that I did what I did? Fuck yeah. But the commentary is wearing on my nerves.

I am not a person who feels a need to chime in on the physical appearance of others, unless I am complimenting them.  Hopefully, once the hair gets a little longer on top and stops looking so weird, the commentary will stop.

I may be a little sensitive right now. Especially since a member of the club just came in, pet my head, and told me it feels like his pussy cat.

LAUREN SMASH!

Mother's Day 2014

In honor of the day for Mother's and my own mother, here is a list of awesome things about my mom. I give you 16 Reasons My Mom is Awesome Sauce. 16 is my current age divided by 2. I was going to do 32, but my internet was down at home and this should have been posted yesterday.  So, I'm basically writing it at work the day AFTER Mother's Day.

1. She taught me that reading was an escape and a joy. 
2. She allowed me to choose what I wanted to read which lead me to a love of sci fi, horror, and fantasy novels more than anything in this world. 
3. She instilled in me a passion for the written word and to express myself in any way I could. This lead to newspaper articles in middle school and really bad poetry during my teen years.  Also, a cool web comic that I love and a blog that is only sometimes angry.
4. She encourages any endeavor I have ever explored. When I chose to pursue environmental science, she got me into a magnet program. When I ditched that and got into acting at age 15, she took me to auditions. She saw every show, and jumped in to help make costumes, sets, and even took over the drama department in high school when there was no one to teach. She bought tickets for my first show with the Puppies on Friday and encouraged me to drink wine afterwards. That's LOVE, people!
5. She encouraged any and all travel. She planned so many awesome vacations (obviously with my awesome dad, who I'll do 33 awesome things for on my birthday/Father's Day), drove most of the United States in a conversion van, and created a desire in me to see the world.  She suggested I travel with Up With People. She suggested I move to KY to start an acting career with Shadowbox. Come to think of it, maybe she just wanted me out of state.
6. Any time I have ever moved, she and my dad have been there. Even when we drove to KY. Mom and I drove my Chevy Cavalier, and made puns all day and night. "99 doctors walk into a bar...
7. Whenever I'm having a tough time, she's there. Just there. Maybe with a little guilt, but she's still there.
8. She has a cheesy sense of humor.  THE CHEESIEST.  And I got that from her.
9. Hanging with her is like hanging with a really good friend who has lots of advice. Sometimes I forget that she is my mom and not just some sassy gal pal.
10. My mom instilled in me a desire to try new things. Food...activities. Nowadays she pretty much just shakes her head when I tell her the next thing I'll be doing, but she was at my trapeze lesson with video camera in hand, laughing along with me.
11. She is fiercely independent and taught me that love sometimes needs a breather. When I was 5, she moved three kids back to Ohio to be near her dad, who was diagnosed with cancer.  My dad stayed in Florida because of work and visited when he could. I'll always know that my mom made a decision for herself and her kids, knowing that Dad would be there for us. 
12. She has a very distinctive laugh. It's "HA!" at an almost dog pitched level. I also have that laugh. I love it.
13. "Oh, Lauren" is a phrase I have gotten used to. I heard it the one time I showed up for a job I found in the paper in Cincinnati that ended up being a door to door art sales job.  I ended up an hour and a half away from home, broke and abandoned by some weirdo with garbage in her car and friends had to come and rescue me.  Told my mom about the debacle...and it was, "Oh, Lauren."
14.  She's helped me through some pretty awful times. Depression, anorexia, and a ton of other awful things and right there, always, was mom with a hug, a late night chat or a shopping day.
15. She made me want to learn new things always. Show an interest in the stars?  She got a telescope and had us out in the back yard on blankets. Then scheduled a drive up to Cape Canaveral to see a lift off. Then a visit to Kennedy Space Center. She wanted to learn more so she went back to school and took classes. She was and is what inspired my curiosity about this world.
16. She's my mom. As my little sister, Brooke, said so delicately yesterday, "Thanks for shooting me out of your vagina."

LOVE YOU, MARMEE (even though you hate that nickname!)

Chugga, chugga, chugga, chugga...

During a conversation with my mom on the facepage today, she called me the Little Engine That Could in response to me saying "I think I can."

I am the Little Engine That Could. We all are.  We're all dragging a load over the mountain, and perhaps this load was meant for larger engines.  Maybe no one thinks we can do it.  But we can.

I think I can...get out of bed today.

I think I can...forgive someone today.

I think I can...breathe. One breath at a time.  One step at a time.

I think I can...perform again.  As much as it causes me doubt, it also brings me so much joy.

I think  I can...be happy. Really happy.  Not just, "I'm pretending to be happy so you leave me alone" happy. But happy. 100 days, 500 days, all my days.

I think I can...do this.

I think I can...get motivated to love myself again. Care for myself again. Stop being afraid of anorexia and stop overeating.  I say this after emotionally gorging on Taco Bell last night and feeling like death today.

I think I can...stop blaming overeating on emotions.

I think I can...think of more things to say 'I think I can' about.

Maybe not the last one.

I'm tired right now. But I think I can get through this day, through the next and start believing in myself.

CHOO CHOO!!

TBT: Yellow Submarine

The Beatles tune came on the Muzak a few seconds ago and it took me back.  Way back to my 7th grade year, when I was dorky cool enough to be a part of the Kids Helping Kids Singers.

Yes. I was a part of the Kids Helping Kids Singers.

Let me explain a little bit what this was about. We were kids. We sang. And we raised money for kids with cancer.

See a theme in my life?

The first show I did with KHKS was a Beatles review. Yes. A Beatles review. We wore tie-dye vests with white shirts, shoes, GLOVES and pants.  I was a brace faced bleach blonde who was super awkward.  And I really wanted to sing "Let It Be."  I got to sing Ticket to Ride instead. He's got a ticket to ride. Not she. Cause I'm a girl.

We toured through the county, playing at church fairs, old folks homes and non-profits all over. We had props.  A yellow submarine. With portholes for our heads to fit through.  Fish made of wood that would swim around the submarine.  There were dancers...beautiful little girls who made me jealous cause I was uncoordinated and gawky.  We did one show where we were supposed to meet Joe Namath.  He bailed. I'm pretty sure that was the only KHKS show my dad came to see.  He was lucky.  My mom, not so much.

We were super dorks. I remember getting super excited about meeting my first celebs. The dude that played Peter Brady in the 90's film.  The chick that played the middle sister on Step by Step...the ditzy one.  You know the one.  I got their autographs. No one was impressed.

Our next big blockbuster was our rendition of The Lion King.  I should point out that the only color in our cast was a young Indian boy and girl. I sang Can You Feel The Love Tonight dressed like an angel while two young kids played Nala and Simba in front of me. It was lame, but it was at the Kravis, guys.  The mother fronting Kravis!

It was awful in hindsight, but when I was doing it I felt like I was making a difference through song.  We'd meet little kids with bald heads who were finishing treatments. We would perform and the older folks would tell us how cute we were and would give us standing ovations. It was the one place that this nerd felt comfortable and it has effected adult me in so many ways.

I then went on to do similar things with Up With People when I was 18, though that was on a much bigger and more professional level than anything I did in KHKS. It made me different.  It made me the butt of a lot of jokes, especially when I was already ostracized for having braces, pimples, and glasses. It also made me who I am today, and I would never change it for the world.

Improv hiatus...OVER!

I've been an improv recluse for the past couple of months year. It got so crazy for a second there, running my own improv troupe then deciding to no longer run my own improv troupe.  It was too much. Too much responsibility.  Too much stress.  Too much distress from trying to fund shows that were costing me more than they benefited me in terms of money and mental health.  Too much me being mean to people I should have been building up and supporting.  I tried it, and it failed.  I failed.

I distanced myself from improv in order to lick my wounds. Wounds that finally started to heal two weeks ago during a March Madness Improv show at Just the Funny when a director I had never worked with trusted me enough to do a two person scene with me. Wounds that continued to heal this past Sunday when I was invited to teach an improv workshop in Miami for Improv Rising. Someone I had never played with trusted me with his brand to teach an awesome group of up and coming improvisers.  Wounds that have fully closed and have left no scars after a rehearsal I was invited to last night with the Sick Puppies in Boca Raton.

Improv is hard to explain to people who have never done it before. It's a combination of terror and joy.  I've jumped out of planes, bungee jumped over a raging river, hang glided...and none of that even compares to the adrenaline that seeps into your body when you are about to head on stage with no lines, no blocking, and no idea what will be thrown at you by the audience.  There is nothing in this world that compares to the feeling you have after a great improv scene. It's like really great sex. You glow afterwards.  And you're pretty sore.

Last night was an orgy.  An intense, hysterical orgy of shared ideas, great characters, awesome jokes, and camaraderie.  I had met half of the people in the rehearsal before.  The rest were strangers. But it did not matter at all that we had just met and knew nothing about each other. What mattered was the art form. The banter. The back and forth. The emotional highs and lows created on the spot by people interpreting a word, color, sin, sensation into a scene for the amusement of others.

It was great. GREAT. I sobbed afterwards...you know, just like after really good sex. Happy tears. I didn't have a cigarette, cause cancer.   But I glowed.  And it's been a really long time since that happened.

Thank you, Just The Funny, Improv Rising and Sick Puppies. You are great.

Author's Edit: Negative Four Months hosted the March Madness event at JTF, so I should thank them as well.  I'm a jerk.

Throw Back Thursday

I'm hungry.

I reach into the large desk drawer that is dedicated solely to snacks.  Who needs places to file things anyway? I find a bag of Jolly Ranchers I bought when I was having vocal issues and decided that after a balanced breakfast and a small salad for lunch, I could splurge on a sour watermelon candy. Red dye #5 billion be damned.

My taste buds tingle. My senses flood with the fake aroma of watermelon.  My mind flits back to a simpler time, when my family lived in a brown and tan condo on Blue Ridge Rd. in West Palm Beach. My brother was 10, Brooke was 6 and I was 8. We walked to school every day, as Berkshire Elementary was a block from our house. We'd slip under the 6 foot wooden fence, backpacks sticking occasionally. There was a freedom to walking without an adult, though on the hottest days it felt like a chore.

One day, our parents decided to let us go ACROSS THE STREET to a convenience store.  BY OURSELVES.  It was heaven on earth. Mom gave me 5 dollars and we were allowed to not only cross the street, but to buy WHATEVER WE WANTED AT THE STORE.  This became a bit of a habit for us, as I'm sure Mom wanted us out of the house.  Brooke and I always got the same thing.  I grabbed the long, stick version of a Watermelon Jolly rancher. (See? I got to it eventually.) I usually got fancy and bought a Bluebird Pineapple juice, an odd pairing with the candy, but it tasted like freedom mixed with sunshine. Brooke would get a Sour Apple Jolly Rancher stick and apple juice.

I don't remember what Dan bought, as he was usually trying to distance himself from his stinky sisters as much as possible.  But he walked with us. He made sure we crossed the street safely.  He made sure the guy behind the counter gave us the right change. He was simultaneously protective and disdainful, a trait which lingers to this day.  Nothing tasted better on those summer days than that candy and that juice.  Never mind the home cooked dinners that always greeted us when we got home.   Ignoring the home made ice cream we had every Fourth of July. That candy and that juice taught us how to be independent. It taught me how to look out for my sister.  To bond with her. And any time I taste the overly sweet, somewhat sour taste of a Watermelon Jolly Rancher, it takes me back to those days of innocence that I will never, ever get back.

I hope that some day, when I have kids of my own, I'll be able to do the same for them.  I haven't give up hope for this world that we live in to get better.  There's overwhelming evidence that we are on a downward spiral, but there's also glimmers of light everywhere that make me think that someday, my kids will be able to play in their own yard with no fear.  That I'll be able to call them in from scraping their knees and enjoying the sunshine.

Eh, who am I kidding?  My kids will probably need to be called from their rooms where they will be reading.