You Can Take the Girl Out of the Theatre...

I'm an... office-managery-reception-adminy-creativey-wannabe type person at my office. It is advertising. Thanks to Hollywood and the way the creatives around here dress, one could think we are a casual, boutique, SoHo shop, but in fact we are a part of a large international corporation. The man. Big Brotha. Good insurance.

Since graduation from higher learning I had to find a way to make a living not acting so I've learned how to act 'corporate'.

Or so I thought.

I recall the time I was working as an executive admin for an upscale real estate development company. I was taken into the President's office and told I was getting a hefty Holiday bonus. I was absolutely convinced they were punking me.

CEO: Jennifer, we think you're great and you deserve this.

Me: OHHHhhh-kay. Good one guys.

President: This isn't a joke.

After a lot of eye rolling, I shut the door behind me and went to my desk. Then I sat and thought about all of the other folks who'd been called into that office before me and after. They probably wouldn't take too kindly to a joke about their income. Especially the grumbly VP's. I called the Office Manager. She assured me they wouldn't joke about such things. Reality hit, I burst into tears and the first chance I got, I ran back into the President's office to give him a bear hug.

Corporate gal. That's me.

One time the President of our sister production company walked up to my desk asking me a question.

Me: 34

President: What?

Me: I'm 34. Wait. What did you ask me?

He only wanted to know what time it was, but I obviously heard something else and well...in corporate-land you can't go around asking folks their age. In thespian-land they'll ask the circumference of your cervix. Old habit...putting it out there...whether they want it or not.

At least I didn't hug him.

I was recently in a conversation with the President of my present employer and was asked my opinion on a touchy subject. I hope she either accidentally lobotomized this part of her memory or she thinks I'm cute.

President: Would you mind sharing your thoughts? What do you think about my decision? How have others responded?

Me: Well I'm impressed you had the balls to do it!

I don't recall her smiling and I remember looking for one. I decided I had to own what I'd just said so I sat there quietly. I thought about hugging her, then I changed the subject.

I should have learned to wait tables. I think you can cuss and hug more.

The Invitation

As I took this picture, I remember thinking, "I'm going to marry this man."

Greg has asked me to do many things from going to have a drink to going to Amsterdam. He has asked me if I wanted to watch a show he's taped. He's asked me to baseball games, concerts, surprise dinners, movies, his parents' house, his shows, lunch. He has shared with me his thoughts, feelings, articles off the Internet, excerpts from his favorite books, movies, music, plays, art.

"Baby, you wanna hear this?"

Greg has asked me to live with him, help him with lines, sew on a button or two, not add too much salt to his mother's chicken parm, walk the dog, help him get the laundry, enjoy myself, my job, my life and not to be too scared of how much he loves me.

"You are my life."

I can honestly say with each experience big or small he has single-handedly taken a brick out of all of the other paths I could be on, spray painted them yellow and added them to one road. I've started gathering the bricks myself and I'm now adding sequins and gold lame.

Last Friday night, Greg asked me to be his life-partner, his wife. When I came-to I said I would. Actually, I said, "YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES!!!!" Then sobbed for about fifteen minutes straight. Then I said a few more resounding 'yes's', stumbled around the streets he led me on, alternately crying, laughing and pausing under every store-front light to look down at my hand.

I still can't think straight. I've never felt so grounded and at the same time I'm floating at 'such great heights' I just smile at everything below. I wish everyone could feel this way. [Stupid California.]

12:27a 11/05/2008

Standing in Times Square, two grown, black men were standing right next to us and talking to each other between hugs. One mentioned his Grandfather who served in World War II and one mentioned his Great Aunt who'd been a slave.

One of them looked right at me, smiled and said, "People can change. People is decent."

We can still hear people screaming in the streets. Our windows are open and we welcome the sounds of honking horns and voices singing God Bless America.

This is really happening.

Easy Rider

I have this theory. EVERYTHING is new to us. Every moment before the next. Ok. Not so much a theory but a fact. Let me start over.

I have this REMINDER. Of course there is a such thing as experience and as humans we have that one little pesky trait...learning...but when I'm rationalizing about my lack of knowledge or making myself feel better about fear of something in the future, I tell myself, 'we've never experienced this next second, minute, moment, day, week, holiday, party, hair color, smell before...' and I feel a little better.

Like I'm not alone on the roller coaster.

In a tunnel.

A dark one.

I hear other screams too.

You know how you don't really know what is happening when you are in the middle of it? Remember on September 11th, 2001 how we talked to people on the phone that morning, hung up and didn't realize we wouldn't have phone lines for the next few days? How we all lined up to give blood? And volunteers from all over drove in to help out the staff of the hospitals? And then, we waited. And then, no one showed up. Remember how we just assumed we'd see all those people again?

Whoa. I just went down kind of a morbid path to make a point. See, I didn't know I was going to do that. Or this. Or this...

So here is my little reminder for change. It is always happening. You can't really prepare for it except to hold open your arms and be awake... and hopefully be able to duck if you hear someone screaming in the seat next to you.

I'm Pro-Anti

[For full effect, read the following entry out loud a la Jennifer Tilly meets Downtown Julie Brown.] Maybe it was because I was just a wee zygote, but I completely forgot about filling out the 'Country Of Preference' questionnaire before I was born. Were the American Indians American before we came here? They must not have been. And they must have really hated America and Americans. That explains why we made them move to a casino in Oklahoma. Wait, that must be why black people hate America. They found some crazy loop-hole in our Constitution, the Constitution that Jesus wrote, and they shipped themselves over here from Africa so they could hog all the saxophones. What creeps! Not to mention the Irish and Italians, with their beer and their wine. I'll bet those Mexicans are coming over here because they just want to show off! Manual labor and English-as-a-second-language crap. ONE language Americans and ONE desk job thank you very much. That is how we do it here, Anti's! And those ANTI-British that came here on the Mayflower. Stupid. Definitely NOT American.

I think the anti-Americans in the United States Civil War definitely caused the worst problems. INSANE people who were just out there on that 'fringe' and changed things up for everyone! If things CHANGE then they won't stay the way they are!! Hello!!??

What If...

http://www.grizzlybay.org/SarahPalinInfoPage.htm

P. O. V.

My stepmother called me last night and left me a beautiful message.

She wanted me to know:

1. How much she and my father love me and support any decision I make...

AND

2. She thought I quit ballet 'cause my feet were too big.

Occam's razor.