A wise person added a comment to my last post. I think it entirely meritorious, however, I think there are some larger issues at work in my case. Many of which I admit I don't understand, but I think my mother and I have already been through that phase where I realized she wasn't perfect and began to understand her as an adult and appreciate her as an adult. Whether she has ever figured out I'm an adult as well is a matter of debate in our family, and has been remarked upon by others.
I think between my mother and I there are some much, much larger disappointments going on. And fortunately for all of you, I'm not entirely free to discuss them in what is basically public.
Also, I am pretty much hardwired to assume everything is my fault. It's not always blame, per se, but it is always responsibility. I am responsible for all things that happen. It actually represents a step forward for me to say the following: I am entirely responsible for how I react to my mother, but I hereby cannot be responsible for how my mother reacts to life, or how she treats me.
So the post instantly made me regress to feeling as if all the anger, disappointment and conflict I'm having with my mother stems from my inability to appreciate her, to treat her as herself instead of what I want her to be.
I repudiate this suggestion.
On to something else:
Yesterday, my husband took me on a picnic. We went out by the lakefront and ate lots of yummy things and waved the gnats away and generally had a very fun time. And my wise husband said, "I bet we know lots of people who would never believe that we live in a city and just had that experience. Yes, we sat outside in nature where we couldn't hear cars and had a wonderful picnic and no one talked to us and we were perfectly safe. And we know lots of people who would never believe you could experience that in a city."
Interesting. We were safe, by the way, due to four incredibly savvy police on bikes. I prefer mounted policemen, myself, but I do like to see the cops on bikes.
Along the same lines, I had trouble convincing the woman cutting my hair on Monday that biking to work would be a safe and easy alternative to driving her SUV down to work every day and having to park it. A lone woman who doesn't have to haul anything at all drives an SUV to work every day. She also clearly didn't believe that biking would be faster than driving, which it could easily be, depending on exactly where she lives. My commute in the mornings is 15 minutes longer if I take the TRAIN, and the train doesn't have to deal with traffic. The bus probably takes an extra hour.
I sort of hate when it rains for that reason - I'm always late to work.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Inexplicable
I'm sad and I don't know why. It's a general sort of malaise, a nearness to tears. I'm missing my grandma, but I don't think that's entirely it. I'm hating my day job, but that's a constant. I'm frightened of impending failure, but that should inspire fear, not sadness.
My grandma. More and more I'm feeling I didn't really know who she was, but still missing spending time with her. She was a given, my grandma, and you take family for granted. You forget to ask the right questions to find out how this person ticks and what they love. Then you get old enough to wonder what's important to them and sometimes by then the person is lost in a fog of regret or dementia or self-centeredness or forgetfulness.
I loved going to see my grandma when I finally got old enough to do so by myself. What I loved is that I could make her happy. I'd drive over and take her to lunch and we'd talk and maybe I'd take her shopping or to visit someone. I wrote about our outings when she died in November and I don't want to repeat myself, but I've been thinking of those moments more and more.
Maybe I'm missing her because I loved her and knew she loved me and it wasn't complicated. As much as I say, oh, what a shame I didn't know her whole story, there's something wonderful about love without strings and without details. We enjoyed being together, and so we'd be together. Even towards the end, I saw her the Christmas before she died and as sad and frail as she was, she clearly perked up when I came in the room. The nurse even said, you must be one of her favorites. She's always been one of mine, I answered. I probably have written about that before, but it's that experience I miss - knowing that when you walk in a room, someone will perk up because your presence makes them happy.
I miss that, because every time I go home, I seem to make my mother unhappy. My relationship with her is more and more complicated, to the point that even when I do manage to enjoy her, she won't believe I enjoy her. She gets started on these long monologues sometimes on the phone, and I really love them. I love that she gets to talk about what's bothering her, because I can listen and that listening is one of the few things I can give her. And I love listening, because she's thoughful and personable and sometimes hysterical. But I can no longer convince her I enjoy listening. When I claim I do, she tells me I'm "laying it on too thick."
Also, I can't think of a single life choice I've made she actually approves. I don't make these choices for her, which is why I so often choose things she dislikes. It gets tiring, though, battling the distaste and disapproval. I'm frightened of her, of what she might say next. Because she's my mother, and I wish I could make her happy, but I can't.
Everything I need to do for myself seems to make her angry or disappointed. And she's the master at the pointed barb or, as my dad calls them, guilt arrows. A classic during my recent trip: "I know you don't like to spend time with me, but I don't suppose there's any way you can drive me to Sumter on your way to the airport?" There is no right answer. Even if you agree, it's not the right answer. Trust me, I tried.
I royally pissed her off with something that was ironically designed as a gift to her: cake. I ordered this huge birthday cake for all the different birthdays we were celebrating, and it turned out she had planned to make all these other birthday cakes, so she was mad that I interrupted her plan. (Of course, there is also the implied assertion that homemade, personalized cake is so much more valuable than anything storebought.) She did not, by the way, need to spend our entire vacation making cake, so I actually thought I'd be helping, but there is no helping my mother.
That's the killer: there is no help, no right answer, no way out of this maze of disapproval and anger. And I am disappointed in her. I am disappointed that she was so set on getting her way about the wedding and about everything subsequent to it that she was in no way emotionally there for me. Getting her way is becoming increasingly more important than any relationship we have. And I don't know how to get over that.
This may or may not be what is causing my blues, but it's clearly a factor.
Well. Have a good day, I guess. Go out and be brilliant and wonderful and hug the person who loves you absolutely.
And no, in case you're thinking it, my mother is not someone you can confront. You don't win, you only hurt and that hurt is never, never forgotten, even if the reason is eventually forgotten.
My grandma. More and more I'm feeling I didn't really know who she was, but still missing spending time with her. She was a given, my grandma, and you take family for granted. You forget to ask the right questions to find out how this person ticks and what they love. Then you get old enough to wonder what's important to them and sometimes by then the person is lost in a fog of regret or dementia or self-centeredness or forgetfulness.
I loved going to see my grandma when I finally got old enough to do so by myself. What I loved is that I could make her happy. I'd drive over and take her to lunch and we'd talk and maybe I'd take her shopping or to visit someone. I wrote about our outings when she died in November and I don't want to repeat myself, but I've been thinking of those moments more and more.
Maybe I'm missing her because I loved her and knew she loved me and it wasn't complicated. As much as I say, oh, what a shame I didn't know her whole story, there's something wonderful about love without strings and without details. We enjoyed being together, and so we'd be together. Even towards the end, I saw her the Christmas before she died and as sad and frail as she was, she clearly perked up when I came in the room. The nurse even said, you must be one of her favorites. She's always been one of mine, I answered. I probably have written about that before, but it's that experience I miss - knowing that when you walk in a room, someone will perk up because your presence makes them happy.
I miss that, because every time I go home, I seem to make my mother unhappy. My relationship with her is more and more complicated, to the point that even when I do manage to enjoy her, she won't believe I enjoy her. She gets started on these long monologues sometimes on the phone, and I really love them. I love that she gets to talk about what's bothering her, because I can listen and that listening is one of the few things I can give her. And I love listening, because she's thoughful and personable and sometimes hysterical. But I can no longer convince her I enjoy listening. When I claim I do, she tells me I'm "laying it on too thick."
Also, I can't think of a single life choice I've made she actually approves. I don't make these choices for her, which is why I so often choose things she dislikes. It gets tiring, though, battling the distaste and disapproval. I'm frightened of her, of what she might say next. Because she's my mother, and I wish I could make her happy, but I can't.
Everything I need to do for myself seems to make her angry or disappointed. And she's the master at the pointed barb or, as my dad calls them, guilt arrows. A classic during my recent trip: "I know you don't like to spend time with me, but I don't suppose there's any way you can drive me to Sumter on your way to the airport?" There is no right answer. Even if you agree, it's not the right answer. Trust me, I tried.
I royally pissed her off with something that was ironically designed as a gift to her: cake. I ordered this huge birthday cake for all the different birthdays we were celebrating, and it turned out she had planned to make all these other birthday cakes, so she was mad that I interrupted her plan. (Of course, there is also the implied assertion that homemade, personalized cake is so much more valuable than anything storebought.) She did not, by the way, need to spend our entire vacation making cake, so I actually thought I'd be helping, but there is no helping my mother.
That's the killer: there is no help, no right answer, no way out of this maze of disapproval and anger. And I am disappointed in her. I am disappointed that she was so set on getting her way about the wedding and about everything subsequent to it that she was in no way emotionally there for me. Getting her way is becoming increasingly more important than any relationship we have. And I don't know how to get over that.
This may or may not be what is causing my blues, but it's clearly a factor.
Well. Have a good day, I guess. Go out and be brilliant and wonderful and hug the person who loves you absolutely.
And no, in case you're thinking it, my mother is not someone you can confront. You don't win, you only hurt and that hurt is never, never forgotten, even if the reason is eventually forgotten.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Progress
I updated my resume on breakdown express today, and it made me feel hopeful. Well, it helps that I booked a nice voiceover gig last minute this week that I basically did on my lunch break from the office job. Naturally, I'd rather give up the office job entirely, and in general would prefer to skip it in favor of any kind of acting job, but it's still nice to make an extra $700 during lunch.
But back to the resume. Normally, I feel having an acting career that pays drags on as a nearly endless battle in this city. However, this week when I added a bunch of credits to my resume, I thought, well, looky there, I'm working. Not, perhaps, as much as I want, or on the level I want, but working. This week I had enough happening that I could:
1) Create a whole new "film" section. I have previously done some tiny bits and pieces on-camera, but until I shot a commercial as a principal in early May and shot this student film last weekend, I didn't feel like I had enough to make it a category. Now the "FILM" category looks quite respectable, if short. It's nice to have some progress in that area, even if it's small.
2) Take some old things off. I saw a resume of a friend recently and she has every single one of the roles she played in school, even ones where I know she just did a scene, not the whole work. I was looking at everything she's been up to since school, and feeling a tad jealous when I realized that if she was up to a lot, those credits would have been dropped by now. I've actually dropped all but one of mine, because I have been in lots of shows in this town, and the names of those companies are more meaningful than a list of Restoration plays that no one in Chicago would ever do. Actualy, I had to drop older in-town stuff because I have stronger credits with bigger theatres. And I'm FINALLY doing some Shakespeare this summer, which feels great for lots of reasons.
It's funny - you can always want more, and why not? That's what drives us forward as human beings. And I definitely want more work that doesn't involve an office. But for just a moment, I can look backwards and ignore how quickly other people are progressing and say, you know, I'm moving forward and enjoying the journey.
For instance, I can't tell you how excited I am to work on the Shakespeare plays. The company is a cool crowd - I think everyone is in their 30's, mostly, and everyone is pretty chilled out and happy to be working together. Most of them/us knew each other before we got cast. Now we get to play for six weeks learning 2 shows, and then we go to Michigan and perform them. It's like a paid 2-week vacation. It is AWESOME. One show a night for two weeks? Sweet! So that will be a blast.
It was also a great time to record the voiceover this morning. Ridiculous text all in a sexy growl - completely over the top and hysterical. The studio consented to send me a clip for my husband...I'll see if this program lets me add it.
Apparently not. If it was a video, sure, but it's audio.
But back to the resume. Normally, I feel having an acting career that pays drags on as a nearly endless battle in this city. However, this week when I added a bunch of credits to my resume, I thought, well, looky there, I'm working. Not, perhaps, as much as I want, or on the level I want, but working. This week I had enough happening that I could:
1) Create a whole new "film" section. I have previously done some tiny bits and pieces on-camera, but until I shot a commercial as a principal in early May and shot this student film last weekend, I didn't feel like I had enough to make it a category. Now the "FILM" category looks quite respectable, if short. It's nice to have some progress in that area, even if it's small.
2) Take some old things off. I saw a resume of a friend recently and she has every single one of the roles she played in school, even ones where I know she just did a scene, not the whole work. I was looking at everything she's been up to since school, and feeling a tad jealous when I realized that if she was up to a lot, those credits would have been dropped by now. I've actually dropped all but one of mine, because I have been in lots of shows in this town, and the names of those companies are more meaningful than a list of Restoration plays that no one in Chicago would ever do. Actualy, I had to drop older in-town stuff because I have stronger credits with bigger theatres. And I'm FINALLY doing some Shakespeare this summer, which feels great for lots of reasons.
It's funny - you can always want more, and why not? That's what drives us forward as human beings. And I definitely want more work that doesn't involve an office. But for just a moment, I can look backwards and ignore how quickly other people are progressing and say, you know, I'm moving forward and enjoying the journey.
For instance, I can't tell you how excited I am to work on the Shakespeare plays. The company is a cool crowd - I think everyone is in their 30's, mostly, and everyone is pretty chilled out and happy to be working together. Most of them/us knew each other before we got cast. Now we get to play for six weeks learning 2 shows, and then we go to Michigan and perform them. It's like a paid 2-week vacation. It is AWESOME. One show a night for two weeks? Sweet! So that will be a blast.
It was also a great time to record the voiceover this morning. Ridiculous text all in a sexy growl - completely over the top and hysterical. The studio consented to send me a clip for my husband...I'll see if this program lets me add it.
Apparently not. If it was a video, sure, but it's audio.
So, overall, if I'm not exactly as far as I'd like to be, at least I'm having fun, right? And where I want to be is in sight, sort of. I'm auditioning for companies I'd like to work for, at least.
In an effort towards full disclosure I should explain the following:
1) It's pay day.
2) I'm leaving tomorrow for a week at the beach in SC. Ahhhh.
3) I know when I get to SC there will be a glorious and wonderful cake waiting. I know because I ordered it.
I should not be so obsessed about cake. I know, I know. But I can't help it. I'm not sure why.
There, that's enough information to be getting on with. Anyone out there?? Hallooo??
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