So this is ironic. I had this whole ongoing list of items for my manifesto, and I was waiting until the perfect time to post it. Then through a series of complicated actions still unbeknownst (doesn't that seem like a fake word?) to me, I just now accidentally erased the entire thing.
So I think that’s a sign. It means – life is too short to effing POLISH your manifesto. Manifestos are not masterpieces. You dash them off and move on to ACTION.
Now that I am forced to start with a clean slate – what do I care about, right now? What will I stand for and what will I not stand for? What items from that list can I even remember? Here goes:
1. No more crazy bosses. No bosses at all. I don’t know how I’m going to make this work but I don’t want another crazy boss.
2. No making excuses for artistic geniuses. Like Roman Polanski. You know what, I’m not even convinced he’s a genius. The Piano was okay. Wait, his movie was The Pianist, right? Not The Piano. Which was in my opinion a terrible film. I would support packing Jane Campion off to prison even if she didn’t rape a child, just to stop her from making more overwrought movies about pianos and people’s fingers getting chopped off and Holly Hunter and Harvey Keitel getting it on. Wasn’t her last movie about Meg Ryan and boxing and weird sex? That sounds like a good premise but I bet it wasn’t.
But we were talking about Roman Polanski. The Pianist was ok but not as great as everyone said it was. And the reason this is on the manifesto is: I don’t care how effing great his films are, doesn’t excuse his actions. His wife was horribly murdered and that is sad, but also not a good excuse for nice-raping* a twelve year old. Sorry.
* nice rape: a term I just made up, to describe a scenario where it’s definitely rape but the guy was super sweet and drove you home afterwards, and maybe had a bitchin’ hot tub and bought your mom a car. In case my sarcasm isn’t reading: this is not a serious term and please do not start using it. God. Now I sound like I’m minimizing rape. Sorry about that.
3. NOT sorry! Goddamn it. No more apologies. You don’t APOLOGIZE in your manifesto.
4. I guess this means I can’t make excuses for Michael Jackson, either. True, they did not prove he was a pedophile, but it doesn’t look good. Especially now that the one kid’s father killed himself. Hm. Well, I’m not making excuses for him personally, but the fact that he may have been a pedophile doesn’t mean I don’t love his music.
5. Beets are a magical food and I don’t know why they have such a blah reputation in the U.S. Boil them in water with onions, carrots, celery and then squeeze in lemon juice and you have a magical, delicious elixir that wards off colds and sore throats.
6. You know what, I’m a cryer. I believe in letting it all out sometimes. Sometimes everything is not okay and the only way to feel better is sit down and feel bad about it and have a good old fashioned cry. All together now: it’s all right to cry. Crying takes the sad out of you. It’s all right to cry – you just might feel better!
So, to sum up my life philosophy as manifested here, right now I stand for crying, Michael Jackson and beets, and I do not stand for Roman Polanski, Jane Campion, apologizing and crazy bosses. Huh.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
I'm different, different, different
I posted this over on the Hand2Mouth blog, perhaps you'd like to read it?
On not being different from everyone else
On not being different from everyone else
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
I drew a picture of my business plan and it looks like a kindergarten classroom
Hm. I guess the title kind of says it all there, doesn’t it.
So I read about this exercise, where you draw a picture of what your business plan looks like. Here is my problem. My business isn’t really a business. It’s a weird combination of artist haven / social service agency. It looks like a kindergarten classroom, if kindergarteners had an amp/mic/delay pedal station. And a waterless shower where they get to sing their favorite songs and shout imagined rants / visionary speeches.
Problem: it didn’t really answer my basic question, which is: WHAT AM I SELLING?
I am selling dreams and rainbows and story time and a place to talk about your fears and practice becoming the badass you already are but don’t know it.
Yeah. Um… is that something I can sell? What would make me qualified to provide that? Can I just say I want to do that, and it’s cool? Will anyone buy it? Am I wacky enough to pull something like that off?
Two years ago I went to this women-in-theatre conference in Denmark that blew my mind. Not in the ways I expected. There were a lot of women doing solo work there and I came away thinking, “the last thing I want to do is make a solo show” which apparently subconsciously translated into “I will immediately start making a solo show” because that’s what I did. But that is a topic for another day (I’m going to keep mentioning my solo show but always say it’s a topic for another day and then never get around to discussing it straight on. FYI.)
Anyway, conference: the thing that blew my mind was having conversations with women of all ages, backgrounds and nationalities – all of whom were making crazy, groundbreaking theater nd all of whom were having the same struggles, triumphs and failures I was having. I bonded with women from Sweden, India, Egypt, England, Peru, Spain – women in their fifties, thirties, twenties – with or without babies, with or without careers, with or without money. Amazing.
One of the workshops I did was with this Australian artist, Margaret Cameron. At first she was so woo woo that I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. But halfway through she won me over. She had these great mantras – she would have us walk around and hug each other and say, “what if where I am right now is exactly where I need to be?” Then she’d say, “I know it isn’t… but what if it was?”
She kept asking over and over and it finally sunk in: what if I stopped doubting myself for ten minutes? What if I believed that I was on the right track? What if everything in my life has prepared me for this exact instant?
Maybe this sounds trite – but the thing is, as a woman (maybe for men too, I don’t know) I struggle with these doubts and fears EVERY DAY. It seems radical to think of going even one day without them.
And I would love to get to where I can embrace my own wacky, woo woo, stumbling dreams. That is what I want: to believe in myself enough to go there, to lead people in wacky, crazy workshops where they spend half the time thinking it’s total bullshit and then have a breakthrough. To have a space where I can work on my stuff and other people can too. Where they can show up and I’ll make them a cup of tea and we’ll sit on a big old rug in the middle of the room and I’ll pull out a book and read from it and we’ll put some music on and dance out the stress. I mean, if a space like that existed and I could pay $10 and spend an hour there, I’d go. But maybe I’m alone in that. And maybe that’s a silly way to approach business.
Well, we'll see. I need someone to take me from the kindergarten classroom drawing on posterboard to the part where it's an actual business. Maybe I can partner with a therapist who already has a practice and would like someone to be out in the lobby sitting on a rug singing songs and making tea and stuff.
ARE YOU A THERAPIST WHO NEEDS A WACKED OUT ATTENDANT? If so, call me.
So I read about this exercise, where you draw a picture of what your business plan looks like. Here is my problem. My business isn’t really a business. It’s a weird combination of artist haven / social service agency. It looks like a kindergarten classroom, if kindergarteners had an amp/mic/delay pedal station. And a waterless shower where they get to sing their favorite songs and shout imagined rants / visionary speeches.
Problem: it didn’t really answer my basic question, which is: WHAT AM I SELLING?
I am selling dreams and rainbows and story time and a place to talk about your fears and practice becoming the badass you already are but don’t know it.
Yeah. Um… is that something I can sell? What would make me qualified to provide that? Can I just say I want to do that, and it’s cool? Will anyone buy it? Am I wacky enough to pull something like that off?
Two years ago I went to this women-in-theatre conference in Denmark that blew my mind. Not in the ways I expected. There were a lot of women doing solo work there and I came away thinking, “the last thing I want to do is make a solo show” which apparently subconsciously translated into “I will immediately start making a solo show” because that’s what I did. But that is a topic for another day (I’m going to keep mentioning my solo show but always say it’s a topic for another day and then never get around to discussing it straight on. FYI.)
Anyway, conference: the thing that blew my mind was having conversations with women of all ages, backgrounds and nationalities – all of whom were making crazy, groundbreaking theater nd all of whom were having the same struggles, triumphs and failures I was having. I bonded with women from Sweden, India, Egypt, England, Peru, Spain – women in their fifties, thirties, twenties – with or without babies, with or without careers, with or without money. Amazing.
One of the workshops I did was with this Australian artist, Margaret Cameron. At first she was so woo woo that I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. But halfway through she won me over. She had these great mantras – she would have us walk around and hug each other and say, “what if where I am right now is exactly where I need to be?” Then she’d say, “I know it isn’t… but what if it was?”
She kept asking over and over and it finally sunk in: what if I stopped doubting myself for ten minutes? What if I believed that I was on the right track? What if everything in my life has prepared me for this exact instant?
Maybe this sounds trite – but the thing is, as a woman (maybe for men too, I don’t know) I struggle with these doubts and fears EVERY DAY. It seems radical to think of going even one day without them.
And I would love to get to where I can embrace my own wacky, woo woo, stumbling dreams. That is what I want: to believe in myself enough to go there, to lead people in wacky, crazy workshops where they spend half the time thinking it’s total bullshit and then have a breakthrough. To have a space where I can work on my stuff and other people can too. Where they can show up and I’ll make them a cup of tea and we’ll sit on a big old rug in the middle of the room and I’ll pull out a book and read from it and we’ll put some music on and dance out the stress. I mean, if a space like that existed and I could pay $10 and spend an hour there, I’d go. But maybe I’m alone in that. And maybe that’s a silly way to approach business.
Well, we'll see. I need someone to take me from the kindergarten classroom drawing on posterboard to the part where it's an actual business. Maybe I can partner with a therapist who already has a practice and would like someone to be out in the lobby sitting on a rug singing songs and making tea and stuff.
ARE YOU A THERAPIST WHO NEEDS A WACKED OUT ATTENDANT? If so, call me.
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