north x west

north by west, originally uploaded by iorchid.

...for when I get lost, which was yesterday.

Depression and the Tsunami

It's really hard to be properly depressed when there's been a tsunami.

Since quitting my life as a minor movie actor money's been tight. It seemed before, money just flowed in, whether I was working or not. Now I have to actually sweat for every penny. Blech! I'm just not cut out for this lifestyle.

Where's my Trailer!?!?!!?

Anyway my depression.
I finally got my bank account over zero. It's been about 3 months in coming. I was so happy I decided to celebrate (albeit in a low key kind of way). I thought I'd top off the festivities by splurging on movies all week - a perfect activity in this time of suspension between the christmas and new years parties.

When pulling out of the parking lot of the theatre I drove, backwards, really fast, into a cement post. Weirdly enough, just my wheel hit it. Within seconds I could feel my whole back starting to sieze up - that ol' whiplash feeling. I haven't had that since the '90's - 5 accidents in 5 years, none of them my fault.

Anyway, turns out I broke my drive train. Yes, I hit hard enough to crack metal. No wonder I've had a headache for 3 days!
My insurance will cover it but my deductable is substantial, relative to these times. Wow, it's less money than I use to make for a 4 hour wardrobe call, but now it takes me days to earn that...freaky!

So today I fell down. I couldn't keep my chin up for a moment longer. My upper lip was as feeble as a noodle. No buck to up and so I sat down and cried in the elevator of my apartment building, as close as I could get to Grand Central Station* (*literary reference).

And then I thought of the tsunami and as I told my mechanic through bleary eyes, "I know my problems don't amount to a hill of beans but they're the only problems I got....God Damn it!" He thought I was weird, but he did empathize. He's a new mechanic, he'll get use to me.

So, contrary to my usual modus operandi, I decided to give myself 4 hours to feel suicidal. I ate chocolates and watched Tatum O'Neal on Oprah.

Now I feel much better. Must go wash my hair and put cucumber on my eyes.
Another party. A practice one for New Years!

Moral of the story: Sometimes God wants us to mope and schedules the appropriate television programs.

Date #2: The German Club

My whole life, I've been really careful about what I wear when I go out the door. I always try to wear fashionable but sensible shoes. The reason for this is the many and varied adventures I've fallen into when exiting my home equipped only with the intention to get milk, and maybe eggs if I was feeling adventurous.

Like the time I ran into D. at the bus stop on my way to return my video; hours later, after traipsing through various clubs in search of a certain band, signing off outside my house with a lovely bit of drawing under my arm, done during Talent Night at a seedy downtown club; they had wrapped the tables with brown paper and provided crayons. Drawing and beer - a very good combination!

Or the afternoon we decided to drag musical instruments and video equipment into the storm drain in Kits, lighting the space with candles and, accompanied by guitar and flute, reciting Rexroth's Orestes (or something equally Greek). Years later I ran into somebody who had actually stood outside listening to us wank on. They found it rather mystical.

This brings me to my latest adventure, milder but still interesting sociologically. We went to yet another art opening which didn't satisfy our social appetite and so my little Zsa Zsa suggested we go to the German Club for some social dancing. She'd had a good time at the Italian Club and was tipped off to this alternate venue by a frisky senior whom she was hoping to hook up with there.

Thank God I was wearing sensible shoes.

When we got there we discovered it was $7 per person. We asked the lovely older lady at the door if we could try it out for free - being poor artists and all. Her response, "We're trying to make money here!" So we cut a deal with her; 5 of us for 20 bucks. Once in, I scanned the room, competely unconsciously, I just can't help it. Everyone there was sure to have a seniors bus pass. We invaded an older gentleman's table; he was sitting alone and happy to have us. He was Portugese as was R. So conversation wasn't as stilted as it might have been. It was acutally delightful to see him light up when he told us stories of his homeland, he definately missed it.

After about an hour of waltzing and cha cha-ing to the very bored 3 piece band, a young man walked directly up to me and asked me to dance. He was under 30! and was as surprised to see me there as I was to see him. He'd fled East Germany in order to avoid service in the army and now had his own graphics company. He came to the club occasionally to speak German.

Later he joined us at our table and one of our party asked him why he'd asked me to dance. Now there are a number of reasons that could have spurred him on; my beauty, my sparkling laughter, my quick wit obvious even at a distance. But no, his answer took us all by surprise, mostly I think, because it was something we, myself included, tend to forget about me. "I like dark women" he purred, and a ripple of uncomfortableness scuttled down the table.

He later gave me his card.
I'm still contemplating it.
At least he doesn't have a crack habit.

Dating as a new Spiritual Practice

I've decided to start dating. "Practice Dating" really. It's like Dating with training wheels on, mommy's running behind making sure you won't fall over and nobody expects you to succeed on the first foray out anyway so all sorts of consessions are made for one's lack of ability and even when you drop bits of food on your chest (due partly to the new bra - otherwise they'd just end up on my lap) you inspire coo's of, "That's so sweet".

So I've asked out my first prospective "Practice Date". I was upfront and let them know the form I was inviting him to particpate in. He declined due to other commitments but I don't think it was a complete brush off. In fact, I could almost hear him cooing over the wire as he hung up, "That's so sweet".

my friend's hug

I have a friend who, when she hugs me, she completely unstucks me. This is because, well, it's like hugging God; beautiful and a little unnerving in how fully open and loving and accepting it all is. I suppose there's two ways of being unstuck
= ungrounded
and
= well...unstuck. Released.
All round it's a good thing (thanks martha, the file's on the way).

when things slide right in

sometimes you try and try and try...and nothing happens and then a mere slip of the tongue and a whole new life appears, laid out and ready to be zipped up. so i suppose we should just keep showing up and if it takes off, fly with it and if not, go for beer or have a bath.
next bus along in 5 minutes.

thank you to my commentator. that was very exciting! I have been asking people how are they being and it leads to a much more interesting conversation, longer, but more interesting.

don't try this if you're late for yoga