Positive Discontent

First of all, let me just make it perfectly clear that I know that NOBODY blogs anymore. I don't even know why I keep this blog. I think I need to reach out to someone without bothering them in person. This is just one of those days. I feel a vague discontentment and I am asking myself if discontentedness can be a positive thing. I ask this because I honestly believe that a positive attitude, the law of attraction, is a very real thing. If that is so, then I am a complete failure today because it is so easy to let fearful thought demons get ahold of my mind. God Bless, am I alone in this? Or does anybody else ever have to fight negative thoughts with everything they've got? Then I think about how there are those who practice negative thoughts on purpose to balance their ego, to ward off the gods that would have you fail (because they then think you are already a failure, take pity on you, and they don't need to send lightning bolts). (I read about this in one of my favorite books "The Good Earth") ("the crops are so terrible this year") when the crops were just right. "Positive" and "discontent" just don't seem to go together. They can if they spur you to action because something has got to change if you are in any way discontented. Problem is that sometimes fear can spur you to action and then what happens- you overcommunicate, overthank, overpraise, overreachout, push, force, ugh. NO. I spent years working with patents. My. Day. Job. For twenty years. Innovation may have been taken over by oneupsmanship and greed but initially, in a pure sense, inventions were the positive outcome of discontent. The better way to mobilize or feed the masses, the more efficient way to procure, heal, process, kill weeds (or enemies). But discontentment becomes mean when we give up, or give in, or blame others when we are discontent? Have you ever gone to comedy clubs? Those crazy comics are really just canaries in the coal mine (I think I heard this very statement in Judd Apatow's doc on Shandling-talk about discontent). I recently attended a comedy club in Dallas and listened to comics whose new material was just terrible, or just wonderful, and others who played it safe by doing a seasoned set. It is always nice to know where the laughs are in advance and stick with that every time. And I was thinking that every audition, or every time you send out a script, is putting yourself in the position of being the canary again, and again, and again if you do it right- if you reach for an honest expression of a new characters or scene, if you don't phone in with your usual schtick. And if you are lucky enough to have an agent who allows you to NOT BOOK sometimes, even better. You grow. (I remember I had an agent who wouldn't send in tapes unless she was sure the someone would book it- as if presenting the same old people over and over didn't make her seem fearful, not willing to risk sending in a new face). (Who knew she had such a fear of failure?) But not booking or not getting published or not winning is painful and people GIVE UP. Who wins when someone gives up? Nobody. And even when someone truly brightens your day by sending a message out of the blue that praises your work, can't wait to work with you, whatever, we still hear that parent's non-supportive voice in our head, or hear that nasty reviewer remark, or remember the peer who did everything possible to sabotage our work. The discontent is something that just needs to clear out and move on. It's something from way back when, something from when we were immature, and it really has no place in the now. None at all. Because we're grown, we know the root of discontent, we know that there are ups and downs to every profession, and we also know that sometimes we do win. This tirade was much ado about NOTHING. I feel better now.

Having the sense to write the thing.

Recently finished reading one of Elizabeth Gilbert's book, now I've actually forgotten the title....but anyway it's the one she wrote about the whole "great minds think alike" theory. She'd had this great idea for a book, and somehow, when she didn't act on the idea herself, the idea leaped into someone else's brain and that person wrote a best seller with her idea. She was cool with it. She realized that the universe wants to get its shit done, you know? Not wait around for the procrastinator to get around to executing the idea. In light of that I had to wonder why my seven stories haven't leaped to other minds? I still have charge of these stories, for some absolutely insane reason since I can't manage to execute any darn thing I set my mind to. It could be that my ideas are really stupid. Maybe I'm the poor schmuck with too much life happening while I outline the stories, hardly managing to get past my index cards. Maybe I surround myself with distractions. But, and you won't believe this....and only ONE PERSON ON THIS EARTH can verify this to be the truth....and isn't it a shame to have to verify statesments....but about ten years ago I had an idea for a book I started writing. About the things that have distracted me since I was 24 years old, things which have gotten in the way of all my goals....yep, that book is still sitting in my computer, never to see the light of day, because that book is called "Food, Money and Men." Seriously. In the midst of writing this genius piece, Carl ran into the house one day..... with a book. "oh my God, Ang. You gotta stop writing. LOOK!" And he showed me the book. THE BOOK. And that is how I met Elizabeth Gilbert, whose idea was SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO good that it also jumped into my brain and probably a million others, but she had sense to believe in herself and write the thing. Full circle. Read her new book. Felt like the universe was speaking to me. Just do it.

The Lie He Chose

Hearing about it in the news- celebrities with bipolar disorder-people we all love to watch or hear about-celebrities with disabling mood swings during which a person goes from a high, manic phase to a low, depressed one- people who can afford nice rehab centers- whose famous husbands or wives or partners or parents can find an audience to listen to what it's like to live with someone with bipolar disorder- can bring it out into the open - acceptable- movie- literary icons with bipolar disorder- Scarlett O'Hara was possibly bipolar, we know Vivien Leigh probably was- a time when there were no medications, or ways to talk about it outloud-lost years for families, marriages, relationships, lost income earning years-suicidal thoughts- rebellion-the most famous of artists- like Van Gogh- suffering in lonely isolation for a life time- unsuccessful- cutting an ear off. I'm a woman in my fifties, usually have a couple of jobs to support myself, had a small, critically acclaimed theater company that I am most proud of- have a brilliant beautiful child and grandchildren- had difficult parents who probably both suffered from depression, most upsetting of all- a mostly homeless, angry brother who drank-who cannot experience "family" with the rest of us- but the saddest for me personally is the breakdown of a twenty year relationship with a funny, kind, talented man who chose bipolar disorder over me. Bipolar disorder without medications over me. And I am a very selfish person. I wanted him to choose me. Long ago, that was what I wanted. But bipolar disorder - the kind that takes over the brain and progressively gets worse and worse gave him no choice. If there were medications that could have given him a choice, he wouldn't have taken them. When he was sane he didn't remember that he had bipolar, that the episodes would come back. When he was insane, he didn't care. He was (and probably still is) a wonderful, talented actor on stage and in some films. A terrific director. He owned his own business twenty years ago. He was really. Adorable. Now he's in his fifties, mostly raging all the time, completely disabled as far as I can tell, with this absolutely insane way of processing information. He lives the lie he chose. I either live the lie with him, or try to save myself. Lawrence Olivier once said something along the lines of "sometimes there is only room in the lifeboat for one." I don't know whether he shoved Vivien Leigh out of the lifeboat or just ventured out on his own, but I sure know why he did try to save himself. My friends and family adored him, but everyone figured falling in love with an actor was probably not going to be the life I wanted to live- acting is so unstable financially- unless you "make it" and the chances of that are slim to none. But hopeful. Always hopeful. But the truth is this talented , funny, kind person I fell for twenty years ago? Well, laugh at this, but it's true. Everyone wants a Van Gogh in his house, but NOBODY wants VAN GOGH in his house." Nobody wants bipolar disorder . To love someone with bipolar disorder - well, don't. Just don't.

I hope I am spending my money well ....on wellness

So I hope I have not fallen for something I shouldn't have- something that costs thousands of dollars. It's called a "wellness program". Geared for the post-menopausal woman- seems we all suffer the same symptoms- and this guy can fix us. Did I say, he can fix us for "thousands of dollars"? The first day I had second thoughts, yes, the money.....but also because I had to do four saliva spits at exact times to submit by UPS to some lab somewhere. They were spits to test my cortisol and other hormone levels, including testosterone (which makes sense because the first foul a.m. spit is what they test what I imagine to be foul-smelling testosterone on) and whew....spitting at 6 a.m.....no coffee, in fact, no caffeine the whole day! I waited for that horrifying headache, but guess what? I never had a headache. I think because I drank CRAZY WATER all day, I was fine. It takes at least 45 minutes to spit into a vial and fill it up. But I did get to watch "Breaking Bad" while I was spitting.

I saw the Moon and the Moon saw me......

Recently on one hot night in Cuba, I was walking in Havana down a cobblestone street that led to the ocean. On that night the Super Moon was hovering what seemed like only inches above the water. I felt small in such a backdrop, the tiniest of creations on the planet. Feeling small and unimportant gave me a sense of freedom. I felt safe, but knew that the water could rise and take me away in a second, that I would be powerless against a rising tide. I got an earworm, too- the song from the musical "Carousel"- you know the one, that Billy Bigelow sang to Julie- "we're two little people, you and I, and we don't count at all." I heard that song first when I was small, and now, in Havana, small again, it came to me under the Super Moon that night. And maybe the song didn't really mean what I thought about next, but....nevertheless.... Accepting what "is"- when we're small it's easier. There is only so much we can affect. What I cannot change, what I cannot influence, what I have no control over, should not be on my mind at all. Worrying about what I cannot control or change is an earworm of another kind, a thief in the dark night, carving pathways in my brain that are driving to defeat me daily. If the waters rise, if the sun bears down, I'd better just get out of the way.

Ubuntu and Gore Vidal

Desmond Tutu once explained that Africans have a thing called ubuntu. "We believe that a person is a person through other persons. That my humanity is caught up, bound up, inextricably, with yours. When I dehumanize you, I dehumanize myself. The solitary human being is a contradiction in terms. Therefore you seek to work for the common good because your humanity comes into its own in community, in belonging." There is always room at the top. We are here to make each other happy, to lift each other up. To make the world a better place. To cheer each other on, hoping for the greatest success for the other. On the other hand, there's that famous Gore Vidal saying....'whenever a friend succeeds, a little part of me dies.' I think I might live somewhere in the middle.

Started a new production company in three minutes .....

About a year ago I hired a coach to help me get on track, set goals, and work on building a career in the arts. I needed someone to hold me accountable because I am a procrastinator. For the first few months he instructed me to set an alarm for one hour and write. Eventually he instructed me to set aside five hours each Saturday morning and go to "work". Recently he instructed me to make a list of everything I wanted to do and START working on them, for three minutes at a time. You want to read more? Read one page. Takes about three minutes. You won't stop. Soon you are reading. Even the things you don't want to do....get them over with! You want to run? Put on running shoes, get out the door, takes three minutes. You might as well at least walk somewhere. You want to clean your house? Three minutes to sweep. Three minutes to load the dishwasher....and on and on. So in increments of three minutes I was instructed by my coach to start ACTIVELY living my dreams. So yes, I started a production company in three minutes when I got a domain name. You see my friend, Lisa, and I decided that we wanted to self-produce a web series that would give us a chance to shine as writers and actors- the primary goal being that we would get enough material to produce a reel for our agents. So we went out for happy hour and brain stormed a few times, finally landing on the perfect idea for us. We put the word out to our pals and on social media, and by the end of the day we had the director we want, the editor, a domain, and the first meeting planned. The meeting included four hours of intense, hilarious, invigorating brainstorming and snacks. Deadlines for scripts, set ups to interview crew, and we are on our way. Oh, yes, putting some money into it to start the whole ball rolling. Now we are setting goals to do a whole web series- with the dream of selling it and actually moving forward to bigger production goals. Makes the work day at the day job almost worth it, right?