Thankful!!

I can't believe I haven't updated my blog in so long!!

I got settled into my new home in Florida... just in time to come back to AZ to work a 7-week contract. I extended my return ticket so that I could stay in town for Thanksgiving, but I go back to FL on Monday.

It was a whirlwind visit... and I didn't realize I'd be as busy as I was. I didn't get nearly enough time with family and my daughter is quite peeved as a result. But I'm thankful for every stolen moment I have with them and can't wait to have them out for a visit in December.

Two of my three brothers were there with their respective broods and it was nostalgic to have all the kids gathered at the 'kiddie table'... like we once were.

Carving the turkey with my mom, teasing my sister-in-law for braving Black Friday, bantering with GGma (who might possibly think I'm a lesbian), and generally enjoying what may be my last holiday in AZ for who knows how long...

I'm thankful to have a job that brought me back to AZ for this holiday. Thankful that my kids will both be out to visit in less than a month. Thankful that I have an adorable apartment just begging to be decorated for Christmas...

I'm excited for the prospects that are around the corner and though it's always hard to leave my ol' home, I'm thankful to be going to my new one.

2200 Miles Across the Sea... An Odyssey

It began on Monday morning... at about 6am...

Ann and I loaded up the rest of our belongings into my Jeep Cherokee, transported two cats into their traveling cage and set off for a 2200 mile journey across the country – towing everything I own in a 6x12 trailer.

We made it 20 minutes from Tucson when the gaff tape securing the front end of my Jeep came loose and began flapping in the wind. We pulled over to reaffix the tape when we heard a torrential downpour coming from the underside of the vehicle. Alas, it was raining coolant. Everywhere. The entire undercarriage was dripping with the green stuff. After a quick call to Jason and to my mechanic, I was reassured that I had merely overfilled the reservoir and as the Jeep heated up, would have to purge somewhere...

We drove into Tucson for our first fuel stop – no raining undercarriage – and decided that all was well.

We realized we had a problem about 20 minutes later... somewhere around mile marker 290. My temp guage started to spike and my RPMs were running really high on some of the smaller hills... and having seized an engine once before, I knew I wanted to get off the road before I did permanent damage.

We pulled over at mile marker 295, called AAA and waited for our tow. And since we were two girls traveling with two cats and stranded in the middle of the desert, we were put on 'priority' status – meaning someone would be there within 30 minutes.

An hour and ten minutes later, “Big Dave” arrived.

The first words out of Big Dave's mouth were, “Didn't anyone tell you you're overloaded?!!”

Umm.... no?

Big Dave proceeds to tell us that he can tell just by looking at how low the Jeep is sitting that she's hauling more than she can tow. I tell him that she sits that low with the trailer empty. He says he's not surprised and that if the guys installing my hitch didn't catch it, the guy who popped the trailer on the back of my Jeep should have.

Great.

So, he pulls the Jeep up on the back of his truck, hitches up the trailer and tows us (and the cats) to his garage in Benson, Arizona.

It's now crawling up on 11:30am Monday.

They run diagnostics on the Jeep and decide that she's fine... but there's no way she'll haul our load all the way to Florida. Time to improvise.

We call U-Haul and they offer to transfer our contract over to a 10-foot box truck with a tow dolly on the back for the Jeep. So, at 3pm in 112-degree heat, we transfer all of my belongings from the trailer into the box truck with nary an inch to spare. (With special thanks to our new friend, Matthew – a truck driver waiting for a repair at the same shop – who was enthralled by our cats and happy to have audience for his 'cwazy stowies'.) The cats have to give up their spacious crate for a single cat-carrier that will fit between the bucket seats in the cab of the truck, but it looks like we're all going to fit.

The mechanic disconnects my drive line and hooks the Jeep up to the tow dolly and we close down the shop at 5:30 after paying $350 for the tow, diagnostic, and drive line disconnect... and another $1900 for the new U-Haul contract. (I didn't actually get a receipt or contract for this new set-up and was told the $1900. was only for the tow dolly... this will be important information later.)

After a quick stop at Wendy's to pee and get situated, we were back on our way by 6:30pm. A 7-hour delay in Benson, Arizona was enough to take the wind out of my sails without the added $2000+ expense... but we were determined.

We drove until we hit Las Cruces, New Mexico.

We hit a rest stop around midnight that overlooked the city lights and caught a 4-hour nap. As the sun was beginning to light the horizon at 4:30am, we drove to meet it... dreading the day ahead of us.

My timeline gets fuzzy around this part because there was no change in landscape between Arizona and Texas, but we crossed the state line somewhere around 8 or 9 in the morning (Texas time?). I knew going in that this would be the longest, most tedious stretch of the drive. And it was.

We crossed into Texas at the Mexico border and drove right into the Wild Wild West.

Federales, Border Patrol, Dogs... several miles of high fences and SUV's parked on their not-so-grassy knolls watching the south... we held our breath as they asked us to state our citizenship. I stammered... as it's not a typical question I get... and said “Here?” (Blank stares.) “OH! America!! I'm an American citizen!”

They waved us through while Ann was still rolling her eyes and giggling at me.

An entire day of Texas... Texas... nothing but Texas... Everything is NOT bigger in Texas. It's mostly the same size. Except their speed limits are slightly higher - which would have been cool had we not been in a 10-foot box truck towing a Jeep Cherokee and only capable of going about 60-65MPH. Even that speed had Ann screaming “SLOW DOWN” at regular intervals, so.. thanks for the thought, Texas.

Ann took a shift behind the wheel later in the day which had her going through Houston during rush hour traffic – an ordeal that required a stop afterward so we could both change our soiled underclothes.

The landscape changed very suddenly when we got into eastern Texas. The desert virtually disappears with a monolithic cityscape, which then dissolves into trees and rolling plains.

Now, Texas wasn't horrible... it's just a HUGE state and much of the drive is tedious (and contrary to common belief that the drive is straight and flat, it's got some frequent hills and valleys.) So, it only added to the general state of panic to discover that Wells Fargo had frozen my debit card (after having been used at only gas stations from south AZ to Texas) and the $2000+ from 'Big Dave's Towing and Auto' had maxed me to my limit on those funds. I had a four-hour stretch in Texas where I was genuinely and sincerely concerned that we were going to be stranded in the middle of the country without any gas money to get us to our destination. I was seriously sunk.

Until Jason saved the day from all the way back in AZ – after having sold some of the items I left back home, he went above and beyond to make sure I could have access to those funds (even cancelling his own birthday dinner to make it happen.) It worked out that funds became available mere minutes before we'd have to stop for gas.

We had some serious guardian angels hooking us up along the way.

And so we crossed into Louisiana territory sometime in the dead of night and began the harrowing experience of navigating the bayou.

I will add here that Louisiana was the ONE state we were both looking forward to seeing. Of course it was just our luck that we'd drive through in the dead of night.

As if that wasn't bad enough, I discovered (the hard way) that Louisiana has the worst roads ever. EVER. Two slender lanes of highway traffic were hugged on either side by cement barricades and the only other vehicles on the road were ginormous trucks captained by sleepy drivers. We were run off of the road by one such driver... who, in an attempt to pass us, never quite made it all the way over to the left lane and started drifting back almost immediately. I pulled over once he got within inches of my rearview mirror and we sat on the shoulder for a second – shaking and breathing and willing our heart rates to return to normal. We watched him bob and weave his way through about the next 60 miles before we lost him. Scariest moments of my life so far... driving in Louisiana at night. Not cool. Not cool at all.

There was a stretch of road between Louisiana and Mississippi that was particularly bumpy and I swore I saw two cars swerve out of the way behind me... we stopped to check that the back of the Jeep hadn't popped open and after satisfying our curiosity that nothing was amiss, we continued.

At the Mississippi state line (and after 26 hours straight since New Mexico) we hit a rest stop for another nap around 6am... this one lasted only about an hour. I woke up realizing we'd been boxed in on either side by huge semi trucks and were breathing in the most toxic fumes I've ever inhaled in my life (and I've inhaled a LOT of toxic fumes!) After a cowgirl shower in the rest stop bathroom, we continued on – ignoring the slight headache and the stench burned into my nostrils.

Mississippi and Alabama were a bit of a bleary-eyed blur – I saw my first water in the form of a bay entering Alabama and I cried. But as soon as we entered those states, we seemed to be on our way out of them.

We crossed the state line into Florida – elated – and got pulled over within about 5-10 minutes.

Why?

Apparently I missed the sign for the Agricultural Inspection Station. I thought it was just another weigh-station for the commercial trucks, but there's a little addendum that says “All Rental Vehicles” are required to stop. To skip it is a ticket, $180. fine and a Class II Misdemeanor on your license.

Oops.

After my “I didn't see it and I'm new here” speech, the cop had me unlock the back of the truck so he could peek and made me promise not to miss the next one. I had my speech all prepared when we drove up to the perplexed looking inspector.

“Coming from Phoenix to Sarasota. Two domestic cats, no fruits or vegetables, no live plants.”

We were waved through without a second glance.

Jacksonville teased me for hours. I saw a sign that said 279 miles to Jacksonville. After driving for at least an hour and a half, I saw another sign that said 282 miles to Jacksonville. I'm not kidding you. It's like being stuck in the Twilight Zone. The more you drive, the further away you get from your destination. I was cursing Jacksonville at regular intervals.

We finally arrived in Tampa and celebrated with more gas and some food before hitting the last hourlong stretch.

We arrived at our apartment somewhere around 10:30/11pm and I promptly had a breakdown in the parking lot of 'Barnacle Bills' (across from my complex) where we parked the U-Haul and the Jeep.

Part of my emotional collapse was having been through the ordeal of driving for three days (with a 7-hour delay and truck transfer in Benson, AZ) with the cats and all of the other minor setbacks. Part of it was the relief that we finally made it here. Part of it was arriving road-weary and emotionally spent and having no one on my destination end to hold me and tell me everything was going to be ok.

Yup. I'm still a needy little princess, aren't I?

But hey, I drove 2200 miles across the country under less than stellar circumstances and got all of my stuff here intact. Humans and animals included!

I mean, it's no huge accomplishment. People used to make that same journey in covered wagons and shit, so who am I to crow?

But man, do I feel like a beast!!!

We had another slight hiccup when we returned the truck to U-Haul only to discover that when they disconnected my drive line, they didn't secure my drive shaft properly. We believe it fell out somewhere on that bumpy road to love between Louisiana and Alabama – and that's why I saw cars swerve. It apparently bounced off of my gas tank and escaped the undercarriage without doing any major damage... but my first few days in Sarasota were spent tracking down a new drive shaft, a U-joint, and now a mechanic that can replace all the transmission fluid that was lost. Awesome!

All told, U-Haul made $2886. off of us this move (and we're fighting for credit back, since the first contract for the hitch and trailer only lasted two days before we had to change it up) and cost me an additonal $500 in repairs to the Jeep (which I've also claimed against their insurance). Not to mention the fact that we were supposed to get credit on the second contract and 'Big Dave' made it sound like we did, but paid through the nose for the dolly instead... not so much. Shady people, shady business.

Expensive? Yes.

Will I ever move with U-Haul again? Not in a million years.

Am I glad to be “home”?

Boy, you'd better believe it!!!

CYA, C-F-A, IMHO...

Marriage.
Marriage is what brings us together today. Love. True Love.
And ignorance.
And fear.
And intolerance.

I'm tired of the Chick-Fil-A argument and I've seen a good amount of political rhetoric from both sides, but no one is changing anyone's mind here.

My own family is divided over this issue - and we are a stalwart, passionate family - so the 'Chick-Fil-A' controversy is not one we've discussed very openly. (Though my daughter and I have had some fierce debates, we're on the same side with this one.)

So, here are my thoughts in a nutshell... or rather... fried in peanut oil to a delicious crisp.

1.) The 'First Amendment' issue.
The First Amendment protects free speech as it relates to government intervention. Our government can't (or rather, isn't supposed to) infringe on your right to speak your mind. It does NOT, however, protect you from criticism or offense from your peers. It doesn't protect you from accusations of slander or bigotry. It's not a blanket amendment that says you can spew vitriol from the rooftops without repercussion. The government will not interfere - but the closest 100 people who don't like what you have to say have the right to voice their opinions as well. And some may not do it in a civilized manner. You take the risk that they won't break the law and break your face in response.
And so, Mr. Cathy and his Chick Fellators have every right to say "We advocate traditional marriage and we support companies and organizations that advocate the same."
And everyone else has the right to say, "That's gay." ...or not.

So far, I have yet to see where anyone's First Amendment rights have been stripped away or compromised. Everyone is still talking. You don't have to like it. But you can say it. All the live-long day.
See how civilized it all really is?
Read up on the constitution people... and read it like you're reading copy from an audition for West Wing or LA Law by Shakespeare. Those words were chosen for a purpose. It's important to pay as much attention to what is said as what is not.

2.) The 'marriage' issue.
I've been married. Twice.
The first time... the marriage meant more to my family than it did to me. My grandparents begged me to marry my 'baby daddy' with more fervor than he did when he actually proposed. They didn't want to be the "great-grandparents of a bastard". No concern about what kind of relationship I might actually have with my on-again/off-again boyfriend - more important was to present a picture to the public that said we were a 'wholesome, traditional family'. Needless to say, that marriage was a sham... two kids playing house... and despite our best efforts to make it work, we divorced within 3 years.
This whole controversy starts to unravel when you consider the backbone of their conviction. Marriage is not a 'Christian' institution. Marriage was not designed by God. It was created by man. A 'traditional' marriage changes based on your geographic location. Americans have a much different idea of traditional marriage than what is commonplace in Israel, Asia, Europe, and tribal communities.
Marriage was initially created (we believe, because these unions predate recorded history in some cases) as a way to claim sexual exclusivity, protect lineage and bloodlines, and to determine the inheritance of possessions and land. Is that really what everyone is fighting to protect as God's 'sacred and holy' institution? I guess I don't get it.

I understand if conservative Christians want to balk at the idea of gay marriage and take a NIMB stance - hell, I can't get married in a Mormon Temple or a Catholic church without jumping through some hoops, so I get that... I don't list those places on my list of potential wedding venues. But the Mormon church isn't telling me that I can't get married on a cruise ship or in the Grand Ballroom of the Hilton because I don't follow their 'traditional' values. I've had no Jews deny my womanhood because I never went through a bat mizvah. So, I don't understand the mentality of any group or person saying to ANY individual "You can't do this thing I believe in 'cuz you do it differently."
To be an individual is the hardest thing in the world, because nobody likes you to be an individual. We like to make sheep of one another and relegate each other to our respective 'flocks'.

I think it's wonderful and glorious and romantic that there are people out there who aren't bitter and disillusioned like I am - people who still believe in finding that one true love for life and spend thousands of dollars celebrating their love and making it all public and forever-like. It's beautiful and I wouldn't dare deny that to anyone. ANYONE. You have your traditions. I have mine. Nothing says they have to be the same in order for me to respect and admire you. Period.

3.) The Dan Cathy issue. “We are very much supportive of the family — the biblical definition of the family unit. We are a family-owned business, a family-led business, and we are married to our first wives. We give God thanks for that.”
I'm glad Dan Cathy found what works for him. I think it's important to believe in something bigger and greater than ourselves. Whether it's religion or spirituality or community or whatever - he has every right to support the biblical family unit. He can support the Shakespearean family unit. He can support the Oedipal family unit. None of which comes without criticism from someone somewhere. I don't take issue with what Mr. Cathy does or doesn't believe in or support. I don't even take issue with the fact that he spends millions of dollars to support organizations that are dedicated to criminalizing homosexuality. I would feel the same way if I knew he was working towards criminalizing dancing. I'd still think he was an idiot of a businessman.

"We’re inviting God’s judgment on our nation when we shake our fist at him and say we know better than you as to what constitutes a marriage. And I pray God’s mercy on our generation that has such a prideful, arrogant attitude that thinks we have the audacity to redefine what marriage is all about."

I don't think Mr. Cathy is aware of what constitutes a marriage. I'm not even talking about the archaic Leviticus talk of the Old Testament kind of marriage - I'm talking about what people have done for centuries. How is Dan Cathy not shaking his fist at God and saying he knows better than Him what constitutes a marriage? God did not define marriage as Dan Cathy does. Nowhere in the bible did he define it that way. Show me the scripture and I'll show you passages that directly contradict Mr. Cathy's lifestyle. It just doesn't work to say ANY of us know better and it's counter-intuitive to say anyone has the "audacity" to redefine something that has been constantly evolving and redefining itself with every culture and generation.

Having been raised in the church, I remember the push to evangelize and convert and recruit and become "fishers of men". It wasn't enough to believe... success as a Christian is directly related to your ability to "save" others. It's not a mutually-tolerant religion. Anyone who doesn't believe in my God the way I do is going to hell. Plain and simple. Black and white. If you love someone... save them from eternal damnation.


"Love with eyes knows when to say no, when to say yes. Love neither interferes in anybody's life nor allows anybody else to interfere into one's own life. Love gives individuality to others, but does not lose its own individuality." That's what I believe.


No matter how much we may be able to identify and strive towards our own happiness, there will always be someone else saying, "That's not the right way."

It will take time. It will take tears. It will take tenacity and grief and heartbreak. It will take a generation of children raised by two moms or two dads to affect the lobbyists and lawmakers, but it's happening. Slowly... gradually... the evolution of the 'nuclear family' has already overtaken yesteryear's traditions and rituals. I only hope the evolution of Christianity can keep up.

Let them pity and protest and "pray the gay away". Let them make ignorant statements and ridiculous investments. I know that a great majority of my friends and family were nowhere near Chick-Fil-A yesterday. Some, out of protest... some out of health... and some out of apathy.
For those that did go... Well... I guess I pity them.


I'm sad for them. I'm sad that they think their dollars are best spent supporting organizations devoted to stripping away the rights of others. I pray that their eyes and minds will be open to all of the places in those towns and communities that could have used those chicken dollars to better someone or something.
What if, instead of buying a $4 sammich, every Christian believing in family values donated that $4 to their local homeless shelter or food bank or orphanage or animal rescue? I don't know... maybe it's my whacked-out sense of tradition or values, but I would find that much more gratifying than putting money towards keeping marriage a private club for breeders. Plus, I think there might be a quicker and more visible result on a smaller scale; rather than my meagre drop-in-the-bucket of millions already invested by a business like CFA. I can say that I've never seen lines that long or a rally this big to feed or shelter the homeless in own communities. Which is something Jesus actually WOULD do...

So, do with it what you will... I have no problem boycotting places that support organizations and people I'm not fond of for one reason or another. I have no reservations about raising my voice - or my blog - to say that I think this argument is as ignorant and ridiculous as segregation was 50 years ago.

I think that sin and the bible create chasms between people where there need not be any.

I'll defend someone's right to marry as quickly as I'll defend their right to have a vegan diet - though I have no intentions of personally adopting either lifestyle choice any time soon.

I guess the long and short of it is that I think it's important to be educated. I think it's empowering to know where your food comes from and where your money goes - and I think it's imperative that we understand and believe that there is happiness for others along different paths than our own.

Respect man, love man. Respect his individuality, respect his differences. And that is possible only if you respect your own individuality. That is possible only if you are grounded in your own being and you are unafraid.

I was never that impressed with their waffle fries, so really... I feel no great personal loss.

Parting is such sweet sorrow...

I hate goodbyes.
HATE them.
And I don't mean the "Goodbye, 'cuz you're leaving the theatre and I won't see you 'til Tuesday" kind of goodbye. I mean when out-of-town actors return home or graduated students leave for college or friends and colleagues relocate permanently.

I will hide.
I will ditch.
I will send flowers and cards.
I'll text or Facebook.
I'll write a song and make a personal video.
But I loathe in-person goodbyes.
I get too attached to people too quickly and it becomes overwhelming. I either cry and babble and carry on like someone is dying a slow and painful death - or I shut down completely and then go home to bawl in the shower or eat my feelings in shameful solitude.

Opening Night Party = Awesome!
Closing Night Party = Torture!

It's 3am on Saturday morning and I can't sleep because my very own farewell party is tonight.

I have been purposely immersing myself in the logistics of moving - the paperwork for the new apartment, getting utilities scheduled, repairs on the Jeep, packing, donating, tossing, selling and packing some more... Anything and everything I can to live in blissful ignorance for just one more day.
But the truth is, I'm going to have to say goodbye.
Not for good. Hell, I'll be back in six weeks to do a show at ABT and will be here through Thanksgiving, so there's that.

But there's after that... and then after that, too...

And finally, in the solace of an empty bedroom - I give in to my denial.
I bitch and moan and gripe about my home state constantly. If you've known me long enough, you've heard me gripe about the weather, the politics, the landscape, the economy, the idiots... or all of the above.
But the truth is, there's a reason that I've lived here for all of my 36 years. There are many reasons.

Even if the weather was unbearable, the politics ridiculous and the economy in the toilet, the people... MY people made it worth living here. My family. My neighborhoods. My theatre community. The people I grew up watching... the people I grew up with...

YOU... reading this right now... are one of the reasons it is so hard for me to leave.

There are too many people to list in a blog post, and I suspect it would get boring... but I'm going to do some shout-outs via Facebook and perhaps an individual blog or two to help me get all the sappy out of my system.
Truth is, I hate goodbyes... and tonight I'll have no choice but to face them. Many of them.
Thank HEAVENS I'll be doing it mostly drunk! :)

It's bittersweet, but I'm at least excited for the chance to have so many of my friends in one place at one time. Plus it has been a good while since anyone threw a party for me.

Hmmm... maybe I should move more often.  In fact, maybe I should have a 'Farewell Pary - Part 2' when I close the ABT show!

Regardless, I'm ultimately grateful to have people in my life worth saying goodbye to - even if it does mean doing the ugly cry in front of them all.

My Planned Parenthood/Brewer Rant

Yesterday, I linked this article to my Facebook:
http://news.yahoo.com/abortion-battle-planned-parenthood-sues-arizona-003707537.html

It discusses the law passed by Jan Brewer to block funding to Planned Parenthood from the state. In response, Planned Parenthood is suing the state of Arizona (and five others that have followed suit by pulling or blocking funding.)

Here's my problem with this whole situation: Leatherface (and those that support this legislation) is basing this decision on moral grounds because Planned Parenthood offers abortion services. In fact, a whopping 3% of their clientele require abortions or abortion referrals. Three percent.

I have personal experience with Planned Parenthood. When I was active with my church group, there were regular protests and rallies against PP. This was in the late '80's when the ProLife movement was really gaining steam. My uneducated self only knew that PP was 'bad' and associated with the dark, seedy abortion clinics of my imagination. Evil lived there!

Fast Forward to my Senior year of High School... I had just turned 18 and a home pregnancy test confirmed that I was pregnant. Without knowing where to go or what to do, my boyfriend and I ditched school one afternoon to drive to the PP in Phoenix (where no one was likely to see or recognize me).
Once there, they ushered me into a room where they administered a pregnancy test (again, positive) and set about asking me a series of questions about my support system at home, my academic and work history, my economic and financial plans. After answering their survey, my boyfriend and two counselors joined me in a homey little conference room where we discussed my personal options. I knew abortion was not a choice for me... and because I didn't bring it up, it was NEVER discussed. Not once. Adoption was discussed. Keeping the baby was discussed. But I wasn't pushed for any kind of 'decision' in that room and when I left, I had an armful of pamphlets for adoption and a stack of coupons for diapers and baby formula, and a sample bottle of prenatal vitamins to get me through until I could arrange for legitimate OB/GYN care - which was encouraged.
Since then, I've been without health insurance on a number of occasions (such is the case when you work as a free-lance artist) and during many of those times, I've relied on PP for birth control, my yearly lady-exams, as well as breast cancer screenings and specialty referrals - all on a sliding scale directly proportional to my income.

I am the 97%.

My daughter is a Senior in High School this year. I'm thrilled to death that she can be covered under her dad's health insurance for several more years. (A luxury I didn't have at 18, even though I was still a student - my mother's insurance rejected my prenatal care and so the state paid for it entirely under AHCCCS.) So, in my case, the ACA would have helped me out and actually saved taxpayer money - which is why I roll my eyes at those who rail against it.

If my daughter were stuck in college with no health insurance and no money and needed to get her monthly pills or a well-exam, PP is precisely where I'd refer her.

She is the 97%.

I don't understand the mentality.
It's like saying you can't support a restaurant because there's a dish on the menu that you can't eat.
Or calling for the closing of all pharmacies because they are stocked with the 'morning after pill'.
Really? So no one will get their Cumadin, or their Darvocet? Screw the people who need their inhalers refilled or their oxygen tanks replenished. Evil lives here!!

No one says you have to agree with it. Hell, I don't agree with the idea of getting wasted every night 'til you puke... even though it's perfectly legal.

There's a sense of entitlement that permeated our moral fabric and resulted in the 'right' to reject anything that isn't part of our chosen lifestyle, and I fear it has affected our common sense.

We cannot rid this world of all that is undesirable or wicked. We cannot sanitize it to everyone's liking. There will always be poverty. There will always be war. There will always be starvation and oppression. There will always be serious issues requiring serious debate and laws to 'protect and serve' the people of this nation and this planet. They will not always 'protect and serve' you. Sometimes they protect and serve your neighbor. Sometimes a corporation.

What I don't understand is why we can't support an entity or organization that is 97% "good", but rather must do away with it because it is 3% "bad"? Where do we make that distinction? Based on what is undesirable to us?

I'll tell you this... if I used that rule to toss out students, I'd have no one left to teach!! My theatre kids are amazing, creative, talented, energetic little creatures... but as teenagers, they run about a 95/5 ratio of helpful qualities to undesirable ones. I'm sure that I run at about 80/20... some days, I'm straight-up 50/50.

In the meantime, the law doesn't go into effect until August 2nd, so go get your well checks now. Who knows what will come of these services in the near future. Also, AA Women's Health at 4135 Power Rd. in Mesa is holding a 'Well Women's Care Clinic' on July 21st at 8am - offering free services for the day to promote their new facility... presumably to the 97%.

Thank you, Jan Brewer, for saving us from evil - and ourselves - by limiting the funding available for women's services. I'm sure that someone out there will look back at this and say, "Well, that's the smartest thing she ever did."

Someone.

But not the 97%.

Mathematically Speaking...

Moving is expensive.
Moving out of state is just ridiculous.

What was left of my rather small 'nest egg' is now almost gone, leaving me to reflect on how long it takes to build up savings vs. how rapidly it depletes.

I do not appreciate math for the 'universal language' it is purported to be. Numbers stress me out. This is why I became an actress. I deal with words and pictures and thoughts and ideas and emotions... not numbers. That's what agents and managers and accountants are for. They are the universal translators that speak a language I do not.

That being said, I've been overwhelmed with the administrative requirements in setting up a home 2,000 miles from where I am currently located.

Establishing a new home is expensive. For renters, there's first and last month's rent (or one month 'security' and first month's rent) plus any applicable 'pet' deposits or non-refundable cleaning deposits, administration fees, application fees, etc. In my case, $50.00 in application fees for myself and my roomie and $1970.00 in deposits/first month's rent. Total: $2020.00... gone in the blink of an eye. (Or the click of a mouse.)

Then, of course, there's the utility deposits. I had forgotten about these. Since I haven't had an account with any utility company in Florida, I get to pay deposits for EVERYTHING. Power & Light: $200.00, Water: $95.00, Internet: $190.00.  Running Total: $2505.00. Boom. Gone.

Now, that's just to move IN to this place...
The transportation TO Florida for myself and the cats is going to run about $1000 between the rental car, gas, food & lodging. Total: $3505.00. I weep.

Moving what's left of my pared-down furniture and belongings will run approximately $1500-$2000.00... Running Total: $5505.00. I weep uncontrollably and begin listing everything of value on Craigslist.

The items I'm NOT shipping (the couch, my bed, my TV and entertainment center) will eventually have to be replaced (I've estimated $1500-$1800 total) but not before I spend some time sleeping on an air mattress, I suspect.
Running Total: $7305.00. I faint.


My Jeep is staying here, so I'll be without a vehicle in Florida. I'm thankful to have a bike in storage because I just can't add any more numbers to the growing tally without it having severe repercussions on my long-term outlook. I have about $4300.00 left to earn/raise/save in the next month - which seems impossible, considering the fact that it took me AGES to save up the $3000.00 I started with.

And so, I don my black armband - in memory of my savings. I loved him once. I know he felt neglected, but it was because he was reserved for a higher purpose. I cried when he left and still haven't been able to completely shake the funk of knowing he is no longer there to comfort me... and I will miss him. More than he (or Wells Fargo) will ever know.

In the meantime, all I can do is look at my running total and think, "That's a downpayment on a house. It's a car. It's my salary for 2-3 months. It's a semester of a college class for my kids."

No, math is not a universal language.
It is subjective.
Just like art.

                                                                          Me on math.



**Update: As of noon o'clock today, I've decided that I'm going to try to drive my Jeep across the danged country. Between Jason, his buddy, and my mechanic, I'm told I can get it 'adventure-ready' at a lower cost than renting a car. Plus, I won't be so whiny about being in a new town without transportation. So... there we go. Cutting costs already!!

It's really all about the cats.

I've been surrounded by pets for as long as I can remember. We've had cats and dogs, rats and turtles, fish and tarantulas, and even snakes from the time I was young through the present.
Animals have always been a part of my life and my children's lives.

What I'm trying to figure out is when and how they became the primary factor in every decision I make!

I began to plan my move with the logistic discussions that I assume are normal - How much of my stuff will I take? Do I hire long-distance movers or drive a U-Haul? Rent a 'Pod'? Do I drive or fly? Where will I live when I get there? Etc, etc.

Enter: The Pets.

It was decided between Jason and I that he would keep the dog and two of the cats and I would take the other two cats with me. (One of which is 'my' baby, the other of which is my baby girl's 'baby'.) And this is where easily half of my options were eliminated.

My cats are privileged. They are spoiled, coddled, and prissy. AND... none of them travels well. They go bat-shit crazy in a car. If they're in a carrier, they protest. LOUDLY. And they are persistent. Just when you think they're going to stop or get hoarse... they just keep going. I am wholly impressed by not only the stamina, but the volume that these cats can produce. You know that cat fight you hear in the middle of the night like it's right outside your window?   ...Well it's happening THREE MILES AWAY!

So, flying is out... I can't sedate them and I can't subject an entire plane full of passengers to their wailing for four hours. That's just mean. Plus, I can only fly with one cat, so someone else would have to fly with me in order to get the other cat there. No dice.
That leaves driving. Across the country. With cats. Cats who don't travel well.
That also means driving something big enough to fit the cat crate and all it's catsessories. And it ain't going to fit in the front of the U-Haul or a Ryder or any other rental truck suitable for hauling my crap.

It turns out that my cheapest route was to hire long-distance movers, since I'm not taking a ton of stuff (well, actually, it's just under a ton by weight) and to rent a car (or a small SUV or minivan, rather) for the trek from Phx to Sarasota. Conundrum solved... and now I'm just obsessing over how much wailing I'm going to have to listen to for the multi-day journey. I swear that moving these creatures is giving me ulcers.

Not to mention the fact that - when renting - cats present another set of problems. Many private owners don't want to rent to tenants with pets for fear of the damage that the animals can cause. Apartment complexes that do accept pets usually charge ridiculous 'pet deposits' and sometimes even a monthly 'pet rent'. I'm thanking the heavens and my lucky stars that my roomie and I found a 2bdr/2ba townhome that accepts pets with only a $250 additional deposit. Cue choir of angels.
So, the two biggest logistical issues have been put to bed. I know where I'm going and how I'm getting there... I'm still fundraising and saving my pennies to cover the moving costs, and I will have some big ticket items to replace when I get there. (My couch, my bed, my TV.) They're either too old or too cumbersome to bother with the expense of shipping and will cost less in the long run to replace. Hello, Craigslist!

I'm also realizing what a pain in the butt it will be to rebuild some things like my spice cabinet... but I'm trying to pare down all my crap and go as minimalist as possible here.

In the meantime, the cat crate is assembled and looming in the corner, promising quite an adventure (and giving me heart palpitations) any time I look at it.
My saving grace is the knowledge that my destination has a pool, a jacuzzi... and is 3000 yards from the beach.
The cats don't give a shit about the pool.

Click here to donate to my moving fund! (Or just send Valium?)

The Blog about Moving...

Moving sucks.
I've lived in 7 different places in the last 11 years.
I hate moving. Hate it. HATE.

Number One, I'm a pack-rat. I save EVERYTHING. Not valuable stuff, mind you... sentimental stuff. A poem I wrote in Kindergarten, ticket stubs from shows I've loved, the kids' first lost tooth - which is understandable. But floppy disks full of furniture for 'The Sims' and a misspelled fortune cookie slip? Move on already! Needless to say, I've amassed a lot of crap in the last decade.

Number Two, I'm not an organized person. Half of my craft stuff is in the linen closet and the other half is in the studio where I built an emergency prop 6 months ago... that's just how I live. Getting all of my stuff into boxes is one thing - getting it organized into the same boxes... well, that's just impractical. Half of my bedroom kitsch got packed into boxes with my pots and pans.

Number Three, I hate manual labor. More notably, I hate anything that requires upper body strength. I will walk miles upon miles (uphill both ways) before I will pick up something heavier than 40lbs and move it from point A to point B. I am an upper-body weakling and I don't like being reminded of it, so I just don't try.

So, the week of June 25th - after returning from a glorious overnight trip to San Diego with my other two witchy cohorts, I set about 'downsizing' and packing everything into boxes.

Photo proof of the first broken nail in the process - which also accurately expresses my opinion about packing and moving.









By the end of the week, my goal was to have everything of mine in storage and ready to load for Florida. With the exception of the washer and dryer (which required help from the guys and their truck) I made my goal... with only two monster bruises to show for it! 

And although I had wonderful company during my days, they weren't much help at all. 







I have NO idea what she's smiling about. It's MOVING DAY!!

Calling upon the powers of my daughter's favorite demigod, I sally forth unto the adventure that is schlepping crap from one place to the next....

And, in the end... after much scrubbing, sweeping and swiffering.... I say 'goodbye' to my last home in AZ - and 'good riddance' to the craziest landlord - and possibly the craziest person - I've ever met.

The final bruise count is inaccurate, but it looks something like this:

And when all is said and done - I'm 95% moved into storage, awaiting departure for Sarasota - Jason is moved in to his new apartment... and we take a well-deserved break for wine and spa treatments.

We're both a few hundred pounds lighter - having relieved both our households of furniture, clothing, knick-knacks, crap, junk and shit. Here's to hoping that the next move is as easy or easier than this one... Good God, I have to do this again in a month!! 
 ...more wine, please.

The Artist

I am an artist.
I live in your city, walk your streets, frequent your businesses.
I am the woman in the corner of the Starbucks, sipping my Chai and reading my script. As you stop for your iced coffee after work, my workday has just begun.
I teach your children to embrace their imagination and creativity. I nurture essential skills like complex problem-solving, analysis, communication and teamwork.
I sang at your cousin's wedding.
My best friends' brother painted the landscape hanging in your living room.
I coached your boss for six months before he could speak in front of large groups without vomiting.
I'm performing in a musical at the theatre downtown.

And soon, I'll be leaving.

Arts in education programs have been cut, so public schools can no longer afford our workshops. I now only teach the kids who can afford the arts.
I sing at fewer weddings. More often, DJ's are brought in to play Rhianna or Bruno Mars or Selena Gomez instead. I'm sure it's much more meaningful and sentimental.
My best friends' brother finally landed a corporate job after being homeless for two months. He doesn't paint any more.
Your boss has conquered his stage fright and sends me emails on occasion to thank me or offer referrals. It's legitimate work, but I feel like a surgeon who is only hired to sew stitches - it's the very basic foundation of what I actually DO.
The theatre downtown is closing due to lack of funding. Government grants have been pulled and private donations have all but dried up.

In the past two years, I've had to travel outside of my home state for work. It has afforded me the perspective to see how other states and other cities treat their arts organizations and their artists. It makes me very sad for Phoenix.
I'm sad because I wish I could stay... My family is here. My friends and my co-workers are here. My support system and my enablers are here.

But my work... is not.

So next time you see that empty table in the corner of the Starbucks, remember that an artist sat there once.
...And maybe set aside a few dollars to donate to a theatre so that the next artist can afford to stay...

The Drunken Understudy -Vol. 2

More adventures in the life of the drunken understudy....

The Drunken Understudy Vlogs

So I clearly didn't update the blog often while I was out of town... but I did take a decent amount of photos!

The best updates, however, were in the form of video. You see, my cohorts - specifically the keyboard player, the bass player and his wife, our sound mixer and the deck left ASM - and I came up with the Drunken Understudy Vlogs.

They're pretty self-explanatory.

The video can also be viewed on YouTube at http://youtu.be/vQsLxRXE3IY

N2N - Dance it out, Diana!

I will admit that I was a little nervous about doing Next to Normal.

The show is a heavy one - the story of a family struggling to find themselves and each other through the heavy veil of grief and mental illness. Certainly not like the 'feel good' musicals I've been doing recently.
I obsessively stalked any information on the show when it won the Tony - knowing I was mere years away from being age-appropriate for the role (my own son and daughter are now the exact ages of the son and daughter in the show). I also subscribed to Alice Ripley's (the original Diana) YouTube channel and watched her post certifiably insane 'Diana' videos.

Like many actors who have played Hamlet or Ophelia, Lord or Lady Macbeth... it's easy to bring a little of the crazy home with you. And after reading, watching, and hearing stories of leading ladies going nuts just trying to play this role, I got a little spooked. Especially with issues that hit so close to home - how do you leave it behind?
Throughout the process, I cried at every rehearsal. Every. Single. One.

Then we got to tech and something strange happened.
I danced.
I danced in the lobby, in the aisles, backstage, in the tech booth, on the way home, in the hall, in my living room... and once in the shower before I realized that it was not only very limiting, but slightly dangerous.
Next to Normal is a cathartic show. I can't get through either Act without leaving it all on the stage - tears, snot, angst and all - and at the end, there's nothing left but gratitude.

Gratitude that I've been able to experience this journey, that my children are alive and healthy and well-adjusted, that there is clarity and 'light' in my world... and the ultimate blessing that my life is not Diana's.
There was a buoyancy in my step as I left yesterday's run behind me. I can't help but smile easier and laugh louder. Even though my life is chaotic and unstable, I can appreciate both what it is and what it is not. There's nothing like stepping into the grief and discomfort and insanity to appreciate the love and light and sanity around me.

I will be sad to leave this show - and ecstatic to revisit it in Kansas City, MO as part of Theatre League's Broadway series! It's a show I could do again and again and always discover something new and different and heartbreaking.

Cheers to Diana and her Next to Normal therapy.
And now... I dance.

Linguistic Intolerance

I was having a phone conversation with a dear friend who has more in common with my grandparents' generation than my own.

After a bit of banter, he exclaimed "I really hate how generous your generation is with the word f@#k. Back in my day, that was the mother of all offensive words and you kids throw it around like it's nothin'."
I instantly replied, "I really hate how generous your generation is with the word n#%%*r. To me, that's the mother of all offensive words and you kids threw it around like it was nothin'."

After a moment or two, we decided instead to hate the types of people that use the two together.

Peace achieved.

Shame on me...

I know, I know. I said I'd be better about keeping up with the blog....
Don't look at me like that, baby. You know I love you.

It seems that when my life is most blog-worthy, I don't have the time or inclination to document it. By the time the dust settles, I sit down at this thing and have precisely nothing to write about.

So, here are all the reasons I haven't been blogging.

1.) It turns out that Diana (the mother in Next to Normal) is a pretty big role. I'm very guilty of repeating the phrase, "Oh, I'm only the understudy" which suggests that I don't have much work to do. The truth is, I have the same responsibilities - learn the role and stay healthy - without the nightly show schedule. And learning this role is an on-going process. Every time I see the show or open the script/score, I learn something new about this woman and her relationships. I haven't done this much book-work on a show since the Shakespeare days (admittedly, my most recent 'bubblegum' musicals haven't required a ton of dramaturgy.)
Needless to say, I find myself nose-deep in the script while simultaneously looking up mental/psychological dysfunctions and ailments on the web.

2.) I'm moving! TWICE! What began as the most stressful decision I've made all year is slowly making way for the administration and logistics of moving across the country. All while being halfway across the country. No, no stress here at all. (lies.)
My lease is up on June 10th and my landlady has prospective tenants already, so she doesn't want to extend through the end of June. I'm home for a week at the end of May before going to Kansas City for the show, so during that week (6 days, actually) I will attend my son's graduation and cry my face off before packing and sorting and moving everything into two functional households. One household will stay with Jason in Mesa and the other will get stored (Hey Mom, how empty is your garage?) until it goes to Florida with me in August.
I will be teaching classes and workshops through June and part of July - and will sell what I can, beg, borrow and fund-raise to help make this move possible - since, let's face it, I'm flat broke. Aside from the fact that I have more crap accumulated, I'm basically just as broke as I was at the age of 18. Except I had a better job back then. How pitiful.
So, while I've been in Little Rock, I've been searching for apartments, contacting realtors, mentally inventorying my costumes and props for donations to local theatres, and pricing U-Haul vs. U-pack vs. Movers and trying to figure out how the hell to make it all happen in such a time-crunch.

3.) I've been a phone whore. Fun fact about me is that I'm actually not much of a 'phone' person. That great job I had at the age of 18 was working customer service. I would go on to work 5 jobs at different communications corporations before the age of 32 - all of them heavy on the 'customer service' and 'phone contact' categories. This doesn't include the many temp jobs I worked as a receptionist. Phone voice? I haz it. But I got burned out on the phone - and my job is such that I can't get calls while in rehearsal/performance - so text and email are usually my preferred methods of communication. In the past few weeks, however, I have spent an average of about 2 hours on the phone with my future roommate (Ann) almost every day since tech. At times, it's a typical conversation between friends - discussing movies and music and boys and life. Or a conversation between roomies - will the furniture fit, what's going on the walls?
More recently, however, the conversations have turned to mutual creative and business ventures that could very well be a lucrative adventure for both of us. At very least, it promises to be fun and entertaining. So, we've been throwing ideas back and forth on the phone (and via text) a lot - which is how you do things when you aren't in the same state.

So, stay tuned. As I settle into the chaos that will be the next three months of my life, I promise I'll have more fun fare to post and share.

I swear it, baby. You're my only blog and I love you.

If you read it on Facebook...

First, I have to begin with a disclaimer. I've been talking about moving out of Phoenix for about the last five years now. Perhaps even longer... but as my kids entered into High School, the culmination of my 'five-year-plan' became a larger focus in my own personal and professional life. For those who are tired of me talking about it, I'm making it official.

And since it's not official unless it's on Facebook, I figured I'd do one better and blog about it as well.

So, here's the deal...
Phoenix isn't a sustainable theatre market. For me. I specify, because I know several successful actors in Phoenix that are able to make a living with their creative talents. I have struggled and supplemented, but it has become more difficult with each passing year. While staying in Phoenix was a priority to maintain a stable life for my kids, I no longer feel the need to pretend that we're remotely stable. I joke. Truth is, the kids are older and in order to make a living, I have to travel for work. Sad fact.

I've been back and forth to NYC to audition for regional companies and tours. I've got family, friends and professional ties in most of the active regional theatre markets and was almost positive that I was going to end up on the west coast or in Chicago. Logical, right?
Except that something(s) kept pulling me back to Florida.
Florida?
As one of my friends retorted, "Aren't you a bit young for Florida? People usually go there to die."
Yup... that's kinda what I thought - which is why it was 10th on my list of possible destinations.
As cost of living or lack of sustainable work eliminated cities, Florida moved up to 5th... and then to 3rd...
Last year, I was in Little Rock weighing the possibilities of Chicago, Oregon and Florida (in that order) when I decided I could do another year in Phoenix - maybe two, if I had to - while I did more research.

Everything - from the most innocuous reference to the most blatant sign - was pointing me in the same direction.

And so it is, with equal parts anxiety and excitement, that I announce my move to Florida in August.

With friends, family and loved ones in Tampa, Ft.Myers, West Palm Beach, Naples and Sarasota, the siren song of swim-up bars and year-round dinner theatres is just too much to resist.

My hope and prayer is to find work - anywhere - and get established in the Florida market. The good news is that I'll always have housing with most of my family still in Phoenix - and I have every intention of coming back for shows for as long and as often as they'll have me.
The kids will hang back in Phoenix for a bit. Christina will finish up her Senior year and probably loathe spending Spring Break and the summer in Florida, but I hope she'll survive. David is still deciding whether he wants to enlist or get a job or register for college - but renting out bikes on the boardwalk has also been thrown around as an option. (Not that I'm trying to impose the hippie-gypsy lifestyle on my kids, but I like to bandy about some influence.)
When Jason and I first talked to the kids (years ago) about moving to another state, we believed it would be a much different scenario. But serendipity works in funny ways... and no matter how old and cynical I get, I still believe in magic.

Now the true magic will be downsizing all of our crap, finding a short-term place in Phx that will take the pets, and financing a cross-country move in three months (one of which is spent working logistics from Little Rock).

Keep your arms and legs in the vehicle at all times, kids. It's gonna be a fast ride!

Next to Normal in Little Rock

Hi Blog!
I've been in Little Rock for 11 days and have been horribly remiss in posting my typical fare of photos, videos, vlogs, blogs and anecdotes. So, here goes:

I'm back at The Rep doing the Tony award-winning stage show, 'Next to Normal'. I was here one year ago at this time doing 'Hairspray' with one of the most amazing cast and crew that I've worked with to date. Doing a musical comedy like Hairspray is a much different experience than doing a dramatic rock-opera (which is kinda where I'd qualify Next to Normal). Not that the content isn't just as valid, but one is a laugh-fest and one has me doing the ugly-cry on a regular basis. I'll let you guess which is which.

I knew that this experience would be much more academic than my past few shows - and it did not disappoint. I am literally being schooled on a daily basis. Big time.
I am here as the understudy for Diana, which is a capacity that is new to me. It is simultaneously the most awesome gig and the strangest.

For those unfamiliar with the theatre world, an understudy (or stand-by, stand-in, cover or swing) is akin to the 1st Runner-Up in the Miss America pageant. If Miss America is unable to perform her duties, the understudy steps into the pretty dress and waves from the float in her absence.

There are pros and cons to being a stand-in. You still have to attend the rehearsals, but you're watching from the sidelines, writing down blocking and choreography, taking music notes, observing character choices, prop-juggling, costume changes, etc. But it's a lot less responsibility. You don't have to do the press junkets, the media appearances, theatre events, Q & A, talkbacks, etc. In some cases, you might never even perform the role. But you'll also be familiar with the role and the show for future productions. So... like I said, pros and cons... it's give and take.

I'm one of those actors that relies on repetition throughout the rehearsal process to help get the show into my body - both physically and vocally, so the challenge has been significant. We have 7 hours of rehearsal during the day and our evenings off. Nine of my last 11 evenings have been spent going over music and blocking in my little apartment. My living room becomes the Goodman dining room and the Dr's office, my kitchen is the upstairs bathroom, my hall is the staircase and my door is the entrance to Natalie's room, which Diana doesn't actually enter fully... but if they change that blocking, I might have to restructure my mock-up so I'm not rehearsing that scene outside of Mo's door.

Of all the pros and cons, however, the most amazing part of this experience has been the ability to observe. Stepping outside of the box (or the stage, as it were) allows me to see everything that is going on (sometimes behind or above or below) and how it all fits together in the bigger picture. I get to watch a director with a clear vision and how that gets infused with the personalities of the characters. And when I say I'm being schooled daily, I mean I get a master class from some extremely gifted artists. Each and every actor on that stage is a brilliant storyteller. I fall in love with this family over and over again as I watch them discover themselves and one another.

Now that I'm feeling a little more comfortable with the show, I'm hoping I'll be more inclined to blog and vlog. (Little Rock is STILL just as beautiful as it was last year - Lord, I love the south!)

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to drown myself in some sweet tea. :)

Finding and creating work...

I wrote a play once.

Scratch that... I wrote a full-length historical play about the women's suffrage movement (minus one scene of dialogue that was never really to my liking), a one-act black comedy about intervention, two outlines for a dysfunctional family comedy (that I wrote while I was high on drugs from my oral surgery), and half of a two-woman/one man cabaret.

While a few close friends have heard about (and some have even read parts of) the former, none of my latter works have been seen by human eyes.

I had originally hoped to workshop and premiere 'Ain't I a Woman' (which is still a working title) this spring, but negotiations fell apart and I ended up booking so much acting work that I had little time to write, edit, refine, etc. Furthermore, the local actresses that I would call upon for casting have been quite busy themselves, so the project was put on hold indefinitely.

I'm two weeks from going to Arkansas for a show, where I'll be a bit more isolated than I am now - a perfect opportunity (with fewer distractions) to write during my free time. I'm almost giddy at the prospect!

Over the next two weeks, I'll be packing and prepping, learning lines and music, and finishing production of the show I'm currently running. Then it's two months in Little Rock followed by two more weeks of packing to move out of my rental house by the second week of June. It's both frantic and static - which is difficult for me to deal with. I have no plan for post-June. The work I have for next season doesn't start until after the holidays - which means I have six months of work to book. Stat.

I proudly cling to the fact that I live in poverty in exchange for working in an industry that I have great passion for. But being an actor means I'm basically professionally unemployed. I've never collected unemployment from the government in my life - though I did have AHCCCS (government insurance) when I was pregnant with my son. I'd like to keep it that way... but I find that my home state is no longer as fruitful in the arts as it once was. There's just not enough sustainable work year-round and so I've had to travel more and more with each year to find enough work to pay my bills.

And thus my decision was made... to transition out of the desert and to some place more artist-friendly. I've been to NYC twice in the last 6 months for auditions, but I don't feel comfortable living there because it's SO freakin' expensive!! Unfortunately, Chicago isn't much better.
And so it begins that in the next three months, I will be finishing my plays so they can be submitted for workshop. I will be crashing every general audition and cattle call that I can get my happy ass into. I will be canvassing agencies and littering their offices and email inboxes with headshots and resumes. And I will continue pricing and scouting real estate in Florida, New England, and the Pacific Northwest.

Down to a wing and a prayer, I embark on this journey that will be 'Next to Normal'... holding my breath and keeping my fingers crossed the whole way. I will find good work and I will create good work. This is my goal.

I guess I'm hoping this will serve as a heads-up that I intend to be a bit of a recluse for the next two months. Little Rock is a beautiful city that I find artistically inspiring, so I will use that to my advantage as I finish writing... if nothing else, because I want to be able to claim more than just "I wrote a play once".

Why, Monday? WHY?

So today is my one day off this week.
Well, Monday is typically my one day off every week.

Today, however, I decided I wasn't going to take it for granted. I woke up in a decent enough mood and was being really sweet to Monday. "How about you play some video games?" "You want Chinese takeout and a foot massage later, baby?" You know... giving Monday the full 'Watson' treatment for a good time... but to no avail. Monday shat on me yet again.

You see... Monday is an imposter.

For the rest of the world, Monday is negative. It's the beginning of a long work week, the start to the unbearable week of school. There are cliches that make 'Monday' and 'depression' synonymous. While Friday gets accolades and even a chain of mediocre restaurants.

This is becoming a problem for my reality.

I want to love my Monday. I want to revel in its sloth. When I open the door at 3pm in my pajamas with a glass of wine in hand and remote control in the other and proclaim, "Hey, it's Monday!", I want my neighbors to understand. (Rather than whisper "intervention" under their breath.)

But because the majority of humans consider Monday to be 'all business', I feel like I'm forced to participate in the same vein. I take the call from the bank. I agree to meet my landlady. I get out of my fracking pajamas before 9am and run errands. I catch up on laundry and dishes and menial housework. I wait until after 5pm to pour my glass of wine.

Monday has fooled me into thinking I have a day off, but manipulates me into working just the same.

I have a plan, however. I'm three weeks away from going to Little Rock for 'Next to Normal'. And I vow - with all that is in me - that on at least ONE of those Mondays, I'm going to stay holed up in my apartment in my pajamas with a bottle of wine and my Netflix. I will stand proudly in my antisocial den of sloth and reclaim my Monday. I will reignite our love affair and prove to her that the masses are wrong about Friday and that she - Monday - is and always will be the best day of the week.

Oh yes, Monday. I haven't given up on you yet, you wily succubus. I will strip away your business disguise and expose you for the beauty that you truly are.

One of these weeks...

AZ & Birth Control -or- Debbie Lesko is an Idiot

After the Keating scandal in the 80's, the SB1070 controversy and the debacle that is Jan Brewer, I didn't think it was possible to be more disillusioned by my home state.

Boy, was I wrong!

Yesterday, a Senate Judiciary Committee endorsed Republican Debbie Lesko's HB2625 by a vote of 6-2, which would allow an employer to request proof that a woman using insurance to buy birth control was being prescribed the birth control for reasons other than not wanting to get pregnant.

Nevermind the fact that I want to grab Debbie Lesko and shake her violently by the ovaries. I feel betrayed as a woman and as a 'minority'. Yes, Arizona views women as minorities. But that's another rant for another day.

So, here's my current rant about this preposterousness.

First, there's this little thing called HIPAA (Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act) that came about in the 90's to protect people from having their private health information disseminated to the public AND their employers. The Department of Health and Human Services (OCR) sanctions FINES for revealing identifiable medical information. It's a national organization that adheres to national laws. Any person who knowingly obtains or discloses individually identifiable medical information in violation of the Privacy Rule may further face criminal penalty of $50,000 and up to a year in prison. (Those are the minimal consequences.)

I first learned about HIPAA when I was working as a union steward for CWA while working at AT&T. At the time, I was very interested in taking my corporate career into Human Resources and immersed myself in the inner-workings of these corporations and their laws, bylaws, guidelines, compliance, etc. An employees medical history was treated with a great deal of respect and many managers refused offers of disclosure from employees themselves for fear that just KNOWING identifiable information could find them in violation.
How the hell did we go from that example to one in which employers have a right to know an employees medical history? Based on my knowledge of HIPAA and why it exists, I have to conclude that Debbie Lesko is an idiot.

Second, we all know that the pharmaceutical industry is a money-making GIANT for our country and our government. I can't watch TV for more than 15-20 minutes before I see an ad for a pill to combat depression, obesity, allergies, impotence, AND... you guessed it... birth control. No one in their right mind could believe that the pharmaceutical industry is going to allow limited access to its all-powerful drugs. Current legislation has been moving towards the legalization of so many substances, it makes my head spin. Money speaks in this country and I'll bet there are more than a few pharmacological lobbyists shaking their heads in bewilderment as they think to themselves, "Debbie Lesko is an idiot."

Third, I'm sure Debbie Lesko has never been scared that she might lose her job because she's pregnant, but it's a real fear. I've been there. Thankfully, we have laws that make it very difficult for an employer to fire someone for being pregnant... but that doesn't mean it doesn't happen. It does. And it sucks. It would be even worse to be fired for preventing pregnancy. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. I can't help but see the similarity in attitude to those opposing the suffragettes 100 years ago. It's a HUGE step backwards in evolution. Proving again, that Debbie Lesko is an idiot.

And last... my 16-year-old daughter has been on birth control for months even though she isn't sexually active. As a parent, I've never questioned my decision to educate and support my children when it came to permanent decisions regarding their bodies. I knew before my daughter was even born that I would educate her as much as possible about sex, her body, and her rights as an independent and liberated woman. It never occurred to me that those rights would be stripped away or require justification to anyone - let alone potential employers. WTF!?

I wonder then... if legislators are successful in limiting birth control for women or making it more expensive or difficult to obtain... what then would be the recourse for a woman to prevent pregnancy or regulate hormones? I could see this leading to a national outbreak of celibacy.
I'm sure every man out there who has been in any kind of long-term relationship understands what happens when his lady is peeved. He ain't gettin' any.

Considering the amount of dudes in charge of passing these bills, I don't think it would take very long for their wives to convince them that Debbie Lesko is an idiot.

Just shaking my head... and pricing real estate on the east coast...