When someone else gets something you want (or has something you want), does it make it better or worse that they deserve it? When you can look at them objectively and see that the object of your jealousy may be smarter, more talented, heck, younger and prettier (or simply more attractive), more creative, nicer or all around a better person...does this make it easier or harder?
If, for instance, someone gets cast in something I wish I could have done...if that person isn't good in the role, then I can comfort myself that a mistake was made. But if they are not only great, but better than I can imagine ever being, I might feel worse, but at least I know justice was done.
There's someone I feel vaguely jealous of, and as I clicked through to find out more about them I could hear my own voice saying, "Why are you doing this, this is a wretched, stupid thing to do..." And by then I'd done it, and couldn't undo it, and was trapped. It wasn't even painful, just eye-opening, sort of like the sensation I imagine people who cut themselves have as the blood wells up from a slice but the synapses haven't communicated any kind of hurt yet. The way people describe being shot, and looking at the hole where the bullet went but shock blocks the comprehending of any pain.
Smarter? Check.
More attractive? Double check.
More talented? Obviously.
In every way a better choice? Yes.
And I don't even mean this as a self-pitying rant - I have good qualities, I have talents, I have a modicum of intelligence and I'm attractive in my own way. I'm not saying woe-is-me. I'm just wavering between whether it's easier or harder to let an idea go when you know you didn't ever deserve it in the first place.
I think I'm leaning towards harder. Because it's one thing to lose. It's another to realize you don't have the talent to win.
As Iris Murdoch wrote: "One must perform the lower act which one can manage and sustain: not the higher act which one bungles." I too have failed accurately to estimate my own resources.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Holiday
I love my family, and they are great. I just wish I could handle them better. There was one really great line in "Winter's Bone" which I watched the other day, something about the dad being an informant: "he didn't and he didn't and he didn't, and then one day, he did..." That's not an accurate quote but I feel like that about snapping at my family. I can handle it, I can handle it, I don't mind the backseat driving and constant correction...and then I do, and I lose it, and I regret it.
Because all I want them to know is that I love them, not that they also make me want to tear my hair out.
Because all I want them to know is that I love them, not that they also make me want to tear my hair out.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Un-fraught
I was going to bend your ear about sadness and elation and worry all fusing into some electric dance step today, with a score of kick-ass music behind it. I was going to steal outright an idea from someone's tumblr about the fact that you can be wandering around in a store and some schmatzy, old-school song comes on (for me the other night it was "On the Dark Side" by Eddie and the Cruisers), and without preamble you are teary-eyed with longing for a past you barely remember.
I was going to try to break your heart.
But instead I've realized I am hungry, and I'm going to just put everything I wish I could have and don't on hold and go make some dinner.
Because despite what I tend to give off, underneath the wild aura of fervent drama lurks a pragmatist. A girl's gotta eat.
I was going to try to break your heart.
But instead I've realized I am hungry, and I'm going to just put everything I wish I could have and don't on hold and go make some dinner.
Because despite what I tend to give off, underneath the wild aura of fervent drama lurks a pragmatist. A girl's gotta eat.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Old
Tonight I was asked if the 23-year-old with me was my daughter. I have recently been feeling (and vocally complaining) that I look and feel old. Now it is absolutely confirmed that apparently any youth I had is behind me and never coming back.
I wish I could tell you I'm ready to be homely and wrinkled and not care about age, but instead I'm about to hole up in my bed and weep.
What makes me really sad is that I bet there are times in my life I've been really attractive, and times I've actually felt that I looked attractive, but any time I feel I look pretty the photographs prove me wrong, and any time the photo of me makes me think, hey, I look kinda nice here! I know at the time I felt ugly and unattractive. Why can I not synch these up better than that?
And why do I have to care at all? Why can't I just embrace getting old and having lines on my face?
Why must I be so very vain? It's annoying.
I wish I could tell you I'm ready to be homely and wrinkled and not care about age, but instead I'm about to hole up in my bed and weep.
What makes me really sad is that I bet there are times in my life I've been really attractive, and times I've actually felt that I looked attractive, but any time I feel I look pretty the photographs prove me wrong, and any time the photo of me makes me think, hey, I look kinda nice here! I know at the time I felt ugly and unattractive. Why can I not synch these up better than that?
And why do I have to care at all? Why can't I just embrace getting old and having lines on my face?
Why must I be so very vain? It's annoying.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Wish
If I could have one wish, tonight it would be this: to live free of superlatives. Better than, worse than, best, last, these words ricochet in my head endlessly, and I would love to be free of them. Even when I don't want to be thinking about it, some part of my brain is always feeding comparisons back to me, like a personal ticker tape: that girl is younger than me, that one is prettier, that one is fatter, that guy writes better and that one is cooler. That one is much much nicer.
And these comparisons nearly always stop me from doing whatever I'm doing. Because there is ALWAYS someone better. No matter who you are, what you do, there's better out there somewhere.
I imagine what it would be like to be wholly freed of superlatives, not to think that you were better than anyone else but just not to think about where you are in the scheme and strata of experience - not to be so very aware of what percentile of knowledge or beauty or wit you inhabit. I think it would feel wonderful. I think I would listen more.
Every so often I find a little space where no one else is, or at least where no one invokes this sort of petty classification of myself, and I just get to be. It's not the same as just being alone. I can be alone and still unable to halt my mind from its endless rifling through who's-better-who's-best. Like tonight, when every clever thing I read just strikes the gong in my head saying, "Yep, you'll never be as clever as that."
It's true, I won't. But maybe someday I'll pick my way past caring and just be me and that will feel like enough.
I suspect it will still take a while. Maybe you should check back in a few decades or so.
And these comparisons nearly always stop me from doing whatever I'm doing. Because there is ALWAYS someone better. No matter who you are, what you do, there's better out there somewhere.
I imagine what it would be like to be wholly freed of superlatives, not to think that you were better than anyone else but just not to think about where you are in the scheme and strata of experience - not to be so very aware of what percentile of knowledge or beauty or wit you inhabit. I think it would feel wonderful. I think I would listen more.
Every so often I find a little space where no one else is, or at least where no one invokes this sort of petty classification of myself, and I just get to be. It's not the same as just being alone. I can be alone and still unable to halt my mind from its endless rifling through who's-better-who's-best. Like tonight, when every clever thing I read just strikes the gong in my head saying, "Yep, you'll never be as clever as that."
It's true, I won't. But maybe someday I'll pick my way past caring and just be me and that will feel like enough.
I suspect it will still take a while. Maybe you should check back in a few decades or so.
Wow.
So late. Must sleep. Here's what I find out when I stay up late at home alone: I am an idiot.
Why, oh why have I put on the most appealing nightclothes I have had on in weeks, when I am in my house alone?? And the best I could hope for would be a phone call?
Makes no sense. I am an idiot. Or I want to give my neighbors something to look at.
I suppose one could argue that if I do wear sultry clothes to bed on nights I wasn't alone, I don't end up wearing them very long. In that sense, I see why the night I'm alone is when I'm wearing them long enough to notice I'm wearing them.
Further proof I'm an idiot: pretty much everything else on this blog.
I finally accepted something very obvious: the people who arrive at my blog by accident when searching for the terms "torture time" do not stick around to be charmed by my oddball voice. Nor does anyone stumbling across it when looking for a blueberry pie recipe.
So the four of you, sometimes five, I think all of you can be trusted with the info that I'm home alone, attractively clad.
Now I'm going to bed.
Why, oh why have I put on the most appealing nightclothes I have had on in weeks, when I am in my house alone?? And the best I could hope for would be a phone call?
Makes no sense. I am an idiot. Or I want to give my neighbors something to look at.
I suppose one could argue that if I do wear sultry clothes to bed on nights I wasn't alone, I don't end up wearing them very long. In that sense, I see why the night I'm alone is when I'm wearing them long enough to notice I'm wearing them.
Further proof I'm an idiot: pretty much everything else on this blog.
I finally accepted something very obvious: the people who arrive at my blog by accident when searching for the terms "torture time" do not stick around to be charmed by my oddball voice. Nor does anyone stumbling across it when looking for a blueberry pie recipe.
So the four of you, sometimes five, I think all of you can be trusted with the info that I'm home alone, attractively clad.
Now I'm going to bed.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
No way that person on tv uses that product...
I'm tired of being constantly sold to on television - sold to with young, pretty people. I'm finally realizing that I can't even pretend to be young and pretty anymore - that ship sailed, and I missed it. I'm starting to resent the very sight of the young and pretty.
Instead, can you sell to me with...hmmm....I don't know...
Tigers? I like tigers.
How about graciousness?
Or some good old fashioned whimsy - I'd buy things sold with whimsy.
Of course, there's the problem that I'm not the target for any of this advertising, because not only am I not young or pretty anymore, I have no money to buy things.
Wednesday, November 02, 2011
Just a little disappointment
Every time I ever go up for a SAG ad, I mentally spend the money I would make doing it. Fortunately, it's only mental - and technically spending is the wrong word, as I mentally assign the money to my various savings accounts.
Hey, what's a SAG ad? I hear some of you say. SAG is the Screen Actors Guild, and it's one of the unions that controls television advertisements. Like any union, it sets certain minimum payments a company has to give you for certain kinds of work. So if I were to book a SAG ad, I might not be a member of the union yet (it's complicated), but the company would pay me based on a certain scale.
I confess, I find that scale wildly confusing to follow in written form, so I really have no idea how much money I would make for any of these ads. But I know a friend made $20,000 for a SAG ad once. I don't know how often it ran and in what markets and for how long (all of these effect what you get out of it), but she had enough to make a down payment on a condo. So secretly, ignorantly (and presumably incorrectly), in my mind every time I go audition for one of these ads, I think of myself making $10,000, and mentally change my entire life.
Because I would go on exactly as I do now if I made an extra $10,000, but a lot of the stress in my life would be magically lifted. Firstly, just the very fact of making that kind of money doing the thing I love to do would be a personal victory. I would have justified a LOT of the time I have devoted to this profession. Second, I would immediately fund my entire Health Savings Account (and my husband's). Hey - for someone who basically pays for all medical expenses that would be an exciting event. (Yes, we have health insurance, but since we have it as individuals, the plan we can afford forces us to pay for nearly everything. In my world, there is no such thing as a co-pay. But if something catastrophic happened, we'd be covered.)
Third, and this may sound funny, but I'd pump up my savings accounts. I have been making ends meet in a time of economic disaster, but my savings have suffered. I want them beefy, not lean. I haven't cannibalized them, but I'm tired of having them erode a tiny bit every year.
I'd pay off some debt. Duh. (But honestly, I'd still fund the HSA before anything else.)
I'd throw some money in my car account so that I could pay next year's insurance without even wondering how.
Finally, if I could spread some money around all those places and feel like there was any left over, I would do as many of these things as I could afford:
1. Go to Macy's, give a personal shopper a chunk of money, and have her bring me scads and scads of beautiful clothes. I would then buy: three beautiful skirts, two tailored shirts, three tops of some lovely description, two sweaters or jackets that I adored, three pairs of really amazing trousers (one black, one pinstripe, one whatever I like best), three pairs of shoes and one pair of boots, and a dress that I felt drop dead fantastic wearing. Maybe some belts and necklaces. If there was enough money.
2. Buy a plane ticket to somewhere I have a friend I haven't seen in years. Spend some time there.
3. Get my engagement ring fixed.
4. Buy something terrific for my husband and my best friend. (That's two separate people, sorry, all you romantics.)
5. Get back to eeking out the rent a couple of paychecks at a time, but with a great deal of satisfaction.
If you've read this far, you can probably see this coming. I was up for a SAG ad this week - and I even got called back for said ad, which means there was an actual possibility I would get it. The callback was a blast - I had so much fun, and the woman I was auditioning alongside was phenomenal (I really really hope she got cast in at least one of these spots).
But I didn't get this one.
*sigh*
Hey, what's a SAG ad? I hear some of you say. SAG is the Screen Actors Guild, and it's one of the unions that controls television advertisements. Like any union, it sets certain minimum payments a company has to give you for certain kinds of work. So if I were to book a SAG ad, I might not be a member of the union yet (it's complicated), but the company would pay me based on a certain scale.
I confess, I find that scale wildly confusing to follow in written form, so I really have no idea how much money I would make for any of these ads. But I know a friend made $20,000 for a SAG ad once. I don't know how often it ran and in what markets and for how long (all of these effect what you get out of it), but she had enough to make a down payment on a condo. So secretly, ignorantly (and presumably incorrectly), in my mind every time I go audition for one of these ads, I think of myself making $10,000, and mentally change my entire life.
Because I would go on exactly as I do now if I made an extra $10,000, but a lot of the stress in my life would be magically lifted. Firstly, just the very fact of making that kind of money doing the thing I love to do would be a personal victory. I would have justified a LOT of the time I have devoted to this profession. Second, I would immediately fund my entire Health Savings Account (and my husband's). Hey - for someone who basically pays for all medical expenses that would be an exciting event. (Yes, we have health insurance, but since we have it as individuals, the plan we can afford forces us to pay for nearly everything. In my world, there is no such thing as a co-pay. But if something catastrophic happened, we'd be covered.)
Third, and this may sound funny, but I'd pump up my savings accounts. I have been making ends meet in a time of economic disaster, but my savings have suffered. I want them beefy, not lean. I haven't cannibalized them, but I'm tired of having them erode a tiny bit every year.
I'd pay off some debt. Duh. (But honestly, I'd still fund the HSA before anything else.)
I'd throw some money in my car account so that I could pay next year's insurance without even wondering how.
Finally, if I could spread some money around all those places and feel like there was any left over, I would do as many of these things as I could afford:
1. Go to Macy's, give a personal shopper a chunk of money, and have her bring me scads and scads of beautiful clothes. I would then buy: three beautiful skirts, two tailored shirts, three tops of some lovely description, two sweaters or jackets that I adored, three pairs of really amazing trousers (one black, one pinstripe, one whatever I like best), three pairs of shoes and one pair of boots, and a dress that I felt drop dead fantastic wearing. Maybe some belts and necklaces. If there was enough money.
2. Buy a plane ticket to somewhere I have a friend I haven't seen in years. Spend some time there.
3. Get my engagement ring fixed.
4. Buy something terrific for my husband and my best friend. (That's two separate people, sorry, all you romantics.)
5. Get back to eeking out the rent a couple of paychecks at a time, but with a great deal of satisfaction.
If you've read this far, you can probably see this coming. I was up for a SAG ad this week - and I even got called back for said ad, which means there was an actual possibility I would get it. The callback was a blast - I had so much fun, and the woman I was auditioning alongside was phenomenal (I really really hope she got cast in at least one of these spots).
But I didn't get this one.
*sigh*
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