Monday, April 9, 2012

What's A Girl to Do?

Okay, Gang: I’ll just say it right here, right now and out loud: Boy, did I indulge today. However, since I’m good most of the rest of the time, it’s okay. I didn’t work out today, either. Not only was there no Pilates today (Christ didn’t work His core, so I follow His lead), but I managed to kick my own butt pretty hard yesterday with weights (and the Wonky Right Knee has filed a grievance. When I pointed out to the WRK that we no longer have health insurance, the grievance was withdrawn). Part of the butt-kicking was fueled by the Red Sox getting the snot beaten out of them by the Tigers (Ten to zip). At least the Pinstriped Damned of the Bronx are also sucking right now (but we know that won’t last), the Celtics and the Bruins are headed to their respective playoffs.

You take your blessings where you find them. And a little schaudenfreude (German for pleasure in someone else’s troubles) every now and then is perfectly natural. Suck it, Mariano Rivera.

It’s been 3 weeks since I was laid off from my job. I’ve been applying for positions (and head hunters keep trying to place me at a former employer. Not happening; we had a bad breakup). No forward motion. Not good.

As part of moving forward financially, I applied for a secured credit card (yes, I have fucked up financially). Good news: I was approved. Bad news: the bank debited the security payment from my account. I don’t have access to it yet (nor do I want to run up the balance within days of approval. I’ve been looking at credit reports for a living for years. It’s not a good move). I filed for unemployment, but I don’t know when the check will arrive (they say they have up to 10 days). I have a whopping seventeen bucks (should be more, but there is that pesky loan that has yet to be repaid). I cannot sustain the cost of my current housing and the decrease in available funds prohibits (for now) signing up for West Side Rentals which is a relatively scam-free database of available rentals in LA. As an offshoot of being a financial fuck-up, I can tell you how to battle the third party debt collectors. They are predators, if they obey the law, it’s unusual and they count on their victims not knowing the law. Start by watching “Maxed Out”, available on Netflix, ITunes and Zune). With those bastards, I am Boadicea, the Warrior Queen (she deserves a biopic. If I write one, they’ll probably cast Angelina Jolie. Jennifer Lawrence is too young). No mercy. Ever.

Plus, I went to a great party for Easter yesterday and was among working actors and writers. I started to feel the bug biting again. However, that’s fees for headshots, fees for Reprographics to print them up, fees for LA Casting…see, when you’re sitting in Vermont and dreaming of having your own TV series or being on the couch chatting with Mike Douglas, Merv Griffin or Johnny Carson (Yeah, I know…that was a looong time ago and they’re all dead. Okay, so now it’s Ellen and Jay Leno), you don’t know about the costs of getting started (if you think about it, it’s self-employment and every business has start-up costs) or the classes you need to take (improv, cold reading, working with the camera, scenes…). I’m thinking, I’m thinking…

And the Great White Belly is proving to be as stubborn as I am about leaving.

What’s a girl to do? First of all, ask people to click on the ads so I can get paid for this blog. I’m not going to ask for paid subscriptions. Yet.

Okay, and after that? (Returning to a frequent theme of this blog)

You consult Journey, Dory, Edna Mode and Dr. Evil and apply the Law of Attraction.

From the Abraham-Hicks website (Law of Attraction), I got the following two quotes over the past couple of days:
“The Universe does not know whether the vibration that you're offering is because of something you're observing or something you're remembering or something that you are imagining. It just receives the vibration and answers it with things that match it.”

“If your desire is strong enough, it doesn't matter what your beliefs are. If you have a desire that is strong enough, that desire will be the dominant vibration, and it will over-ride any other vibration that you have.”

Well, that tells me not to dwell on the negative. This is good because it’s worrying about the “what if” that’ll pull me down into a slide where I end up just staying in bed all day. Not good. Positivity is a coping mechanism, but it’s an effective one.

“Don’t Stop Believing.” Steve Perry’s never lied to me yet.  (Okay, fine. The clip is "Glee." Same song)

I consult a psychic (insert snorts of derision here). She’s been on the money so far and since she’s telling me that things are going to be great, I can relax, I will take her advice. She tells me I’m going to be even better than fine, I listen. It’s just that, on days like this one, it can be tough to remember that (hell, menopause makes remembering things tough). A longtime friend (30 years) has observed that I “land on my feet” (could be why I like cats over dogs. However, if dogs could purr, they’d move up a notch).

“How many menopausal women does it take to screw in a light bulb?”
“I don’t know. How many?”
“Uh…Oh Christ, I forgot. And why is it so damned hot in here?”
I just wrote that joke. (Mine)

Dory the Fish: Keep on swimming.

I found this great blog called “People I Want to Punch In the Throat” (like her on Facebook and her friend, “The Underachiever’s Guide to Being a Domestic Goddess” which has a fantastic profile picture. Both are funny as hell) and she offered tips on how to become a successful blogger.

 In one particular post, “My Blogging Advice”,, she offered the sage advice that you just keep plugging away. You keep on swimming, just like Dory says. In my case, once I get this up and published (with all links and pictures added), I will go “throw weights” at the gym. And force the Great White Belly to work. Plus, the endorphins from working out will lift my mood or so the theory goes.

Edna Mode from “The Incredibles”:

We’ll skip past the “My God, you’ve gotten fat” (I used to do a great Edna Mode impression. I should work on it again) and go to “Fortune favors the prepared.” While I don’t think I’m going to need a super suit to go battle Syndrome, continuing to write this blog, editing my novel and writing comedy sketches builds a body of work so that, WHEN asked for writing samples, I can say, “Here, look at this.” Sitting on my ass pulling out my hair will not accomplish this.
Dr. Evil? Well, he’s not really a life coach, but the sequence where’s he dancing to “Beyond the Sea” cracks me up to a ridiculous degree. I don’t have the DVDS and the only clip on Youtube is 18 seconds long, but it works to make me giggle. And if that’s not enough, there’s “The Big Lebowski”, “The Blues Brothers” and “Monty Python and the Holy Grail.” (“Young Frankenstein” is the funniest movie of all time, period, but I don’t have access to my DVD of it. Storage).

So, I’m going to keep on swimming and not stop believing because…fortune favors the prepared. And dance like Doctor Evil.

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