I tell ya...

There's nothing like a good, strenuous workout to process all your anxiety/anger/frustration. Yes sir, I think I'm out of crisis mode (knock on wood) and am now getting back to myself again. It's easier to bounce back these days than it has been in the past, which is, I think a good thing.

What might I be anxious about? Many plates that I am spinning at once, and some of them are getting dropped. I'm having a hard time balancing all of my jobs. I keep looking for the kind of employment that might bring my weekly schedule down from 65 to something like 40 hours. My first interview for Vanier went well, but it's looking like I'd be stepping into a tricky political situation, and I just want to teach theatre. I dunno. We'll see how things go when I meet the hiring committee in the new year.

I wish I could get the kind of funding for YouthWorks that it needs. And to tell the truth, I kind of wish I didn't have to be the Program Director sometimes. I don't like all the administrative worries, staffing responsibilities and stuff. I don't think I'm particularly good or efficient at it. (Don't tell that to any prospective employers!) I like designing and conducting curriculum best. But hey, I do love the job and I wish I could do something great with it. I wish I was better equipped (read:educated/trained) to make it into the kind of program I know it can be.

And why am I not doing more work as an actress? Speaking of which, why don't I get an agent? I seriously need to look into that one of these days, to weigh whether or not it's worth it to have one or not.

I'm worried about my dad out there in Lagos. It's not a safe place to be. I wish he was home right now. I appreciate that he's gotta get the work thing on a lock (do I ever! I've realized that when it comes to my attitude about work, I'm totally my father's daughter.) but I wish he could do it in a safer context.

Also, I feel that I'm neglectful of my friends and family. I'm not keeping up with all of them the way I want to. Sigh. I know that I'm not there for all of them the way they would like and sometimes need me to be. If you're one of those friends reading this, I'm really sorry! Be patient with me, when things slow down with YouthWorks next week, maybe we can hang out.

But it's more likely that I'll just increase my working out, because it's the Christmas season and I have three shows coming up that I need to look good for. (Well, I know I look good, but I mean, that I need to be thinner to do them because of the clothes we wear) Wanna train with me at the gym? I've really gotten so good! And It's always better to train with someone than to train alone. Over the past three weeks I've lost 19 pounds, 6% body fat, and 10.5 inches. Not bad. And to tell the truth, I only started to truly be disciplined about my eating about a week ago. I'm talking about, no binges, no cheats, nothing, I've stayed on track with eating because I think I've found a good balance of discipline without deprivation.
Even though I pulled my hamstring earlier this week, I was good about resting it, but still finding a way to stay active and I am getting to the point where I think I'll be able to train it this weekend. All week I struggled with bloating and hitting a weight-loss plateau, but by drinking lots of water, eating right and training smart, I've broken through it and hopefully am on my way back to a weight that doesn't destroy my lower back or knees. Anyway.

Also, I'm feeling kinda lonely these days for male companionship. For those of you with delicate sensibilities I won't put too fine a point on it but the way I'm feeling is that, even though things were hardly always rosy with my ex-husband, my eyes were opened to the glories of some of the residual perks of being in a serious relationship, and now I'm vexed that I can't have it anymore. That's all I'll say about that for now. I don't know what I'm going to do about it. Actually, in the absence of opportunity there's nothing I can do about it, anyway.

Bleh, I'm too tired to be an entertaining, clever, insightful or witty writer today. I haven't been sleeping well lately for some reason. (Oh, that might be the anxiety thing.) For example right now, I'd love to sleep, but I've got a workshop thing to go to for work...something to do with fundraising. Which would alleviate one of the stresses I've got about BTW, so it's a good thing.

Anyway, I gotta go. Might sleep, might not. Mmph, probably not, can't afford to. Well, I'm off. Laters!

Check it OUT!

Some changes to the blog

I've gotten fed up with two of the webcomics I've been reading. And so they got the chop. They just aren't living up to their promise. I'm giving the third candidate two more weeks to win me back, and if not, that one's going too. I've just discovered Bird and Worm, and what's more, I think I actually don't hate it!

If you're reading some good comix these days, let a sister know, wouldja?

Forget Justin Timberlake

I'm bringing sexyback.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not hating on Justin, even though he exposes Janet's goodies to the free world at the SuperBowl and somehow she gets all the flack for it. No, any young man who digs women in their 30's is always gonna be alright in my books.

But my point is, since I started my new training regimen a week and a half ago, I've lost 13 pounds. Granted, we all know that most of that is water, but still. It's awesome. My lower back and my knees will thank me, I'm sure. And I eat. A lot. And often. For example, I had french fries yesterday. Not lapsing into Eating Disorderland (down the street from Disneyland?), it's just the by-product of the radical effects of a drastic change to my exercise regimen. Man, I've gotta switch it up more often...

Anyway. I just realized my 150th post went by completely unrecognized and uncelebrated. Thanks pals, for sticking around all this time. Cheers!

Also, I'd like to take this opportunity to put out a general request among members of my family (this also includes the honorary members, and you know who you are) to contribute to creating a 2007 Tamara's Family Demotivators calendar. You can either create a DIY demotivator at Despair.com (see quick link on the sidebar) and send me your link, or email me what you want and I'll fix it up for you. All contributors will get their very own colour copy of the finished calendar! My last demotivator was about dieting, who knows what my next one will be about...

Dreamgirls!

I saw a preview screening of this movie last night, and although I am the first person to admit that stage musicals adapted for the screen have their share of flaws, this was nonetheless a really fine piece of work. Only one or two instances of sung instead of spoken dialogue, which keeps the cheese factor way down, surprisingly enough, Beyoncé was not the weakest link as I anticipated (that turned out to be Eddie Murphy), and visually and musically, it was sweet. Lovely costumes and choreography.

I really think you'll like it when you see it. http://www.dreamgirlsmovie.com/

And darlings, I must say that Jennifer Hudson is such a star. When she sang, I felt the spirit, and I'm not even kidding or trying to be witty. That young woman moved me deeply. I cried unashamedly whenever she sang. And what's more, I think that as an actor, she is not slick at all or anything, but rather she is just completely and utterly raw, artless. She's like clear glass that you can see right through to her soul. And did I ever feel her pain about being the "big girl" in the group. She clean broke my heart. Loved it.

I hope the idiots who voted her off of American Idol feel like fools (but if you replace "fools" with some kind of expletive paired with some random part of the human anatomy, you're a lot closer to the term that's truly in my mind). She totally blew Beyoncé out of the water vocally, which I know was intended for the purposes of the story, but she really outshone her. To be fair though, Beyoncé has one truly spectacular solo towards the end, that made me cry too. But a lot of that has to do with the awesome songwriting (they were terrific lyrics that I could fully relate to and I felt with all my heart).

Eww. I sound gushy. Well whatever. My access to my emotions is one of my finer qualities and is what makes me an awesome performer, so there. I won't apologize for that. I like that dimension of my humanity, empathy, and fragility, and I don't want to blunt that. It's a strength. And besides, I prefer crying for a movie than for my life (and it's not just a phenomenon that happens with musicals) . I'd rather channel my grief/anxiety/aggression into something useful and productive, like into a role for the stage, or into working out at the gym.

And here's my bit of news:

Blacks Don't Bowl has been nominated for Best English Production by the Académie Québecoise du Théâtre, for this year's Soirée des Masques! The awards show will be televised on December 17th. Go, us! It's not a bad first professional show, huh? First the MECCA awards and now this.

I will not be attending though, because apparently, they charge admission. Ah 'eh payin' no fitty dolla fuh dat. Hello, starving artist here...

Never Underestimate...

1) The power of good friends. Thanks to everyone (family and friends) who's been there for me this past week to enourage me and to offer practical support. I've gotten some early Chistmas gifts in the form of some good folks helping me to pay for a few sessions with Alan. Hee-HAW! It means a lot to me to know that I'm not alone, and that I have friends who care about me. I'm a fortunate woman, baby.

2) The power of momentum. No matter how crappy or sluggish you feel, there's a lot to be said for sometimes just forcing yourself to go on and get on with your life. Momentum can really sustain you until your will to exert yourself again kicks in. Phew.

3) The power of a healthy lifestyle. I've been watching my eating and working out hard for the past couple of days, which is going a long way towards giving my body some happy endorphins and tiring me out enough that I think I'm actually going to break the insomnia thing tonight. In fact, as soon as I'm done here, I'm going home to bed! Also, it doesn't hurt that I'm losing weight and looking cuter on the daily. Go, me!

4) The power of prayer. Whatever your personal faith or philosophy, whatever you want to call it, sometimes it's just a good thing to turn things over to a higher power, to acknowledge that you're just a human being and that you can't control everything. It makes surrender a lot less harrowing. Yeah, I'll worry about what I can take care of, and the rest will take care of itself, or it won't. In either case, I'll be fine.

5) Keeping it classy. Even when life dumps on you, at least you can shake it off and respect yourself in the morning.

I give you great big kisses.

Whatta weekend!

In the end, Friday night I had sushi and a vodka soda, which was quite tasty. I've only managed to workout today for the first time since, because I was too tired out by my weekend to safely exercise, and I felt the onset of a cold coming on. Very congested and boogery. (Sorry, that was gross, wasn't it?) And then there are the raging hormones that only Aunt Flo can provoke.

Saturday night, against my better judgment, I joined my colleague Quincy for a quick salad and a drink on Saturday night, but as there was a play closing at the Mainline Theatre that weekend, a whole mess of friends dropped into La Cabane and stayed to talk with us. I love hanging out with Quincy. He's solid gold, baby. It was a late night, but it's so nice to get to connect with people, you know? I think my new beverage of choice will be vodka. It's less sugary and not as full of mold as beer or wine. And your breath doesn't smell. And because of the taste, I'm less inclined to overindulge.

I of course, I did end up eating something bacon-y this weekend, at Eileen's house. It was pizza. (And if chicken wings and fries and mayonnnaise happened to find their way into the fray, it was an accident. Yeah, that's the ticket.) It was only because I was up on Sunday morning at a thoroughly unholy hour to go take my CPR certification course, and then spent the afternoon playing Dance Dance Revolution with Eileen, Thiery, JJ, and JF. Pure jokes! I am not a coordinated chick AT ALL. Scandalous. We also played Mario Kart and then watched Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. (Again! I lurrrve Ralph Fiennes...)

So I slept over at Eileen's, which sort of meant that I slept in, because I got to wake up at 5 am instead of at 4 to go to work. It was awesome. Of course, I was still tired and sore from my last workout on Thursday (it was a doozy--the head trainer at my gym obviously has obviously been taken in by that Fit Test and so he gave me a doozy of a training program. Anyway.) and after a quick stop in to the office I found out something marvelous!

There is a chance that I may get a job teaching Theatre part-time at Vanier College! Pray hard for me! Send out all your bestest good vibes so that they know that I'm utterly fabulous and fall all over themselves to offer me a job. Shoot, I'd even take it if it was offered somwhat grudgingly. This means that if I can hang on to that job for awhile, well, who needs the MFA to be able to teach at a postsecondary level? I'll just accumulate the equivalent in teaching experience! Ooh, it would be so awesome to be able to not work three jobs!

But of course, Monday evening was crap. Deeply crap. Crappity crap. Luckily, there was no vodka in the house, and cigarettes are not an option, so I had to settle for channeling my anger into the self-destructiveness of eating a double bacon cheesburger, fries and onion rings.
(But truth be told, it was SO tasty. Thank God for comfort food.)

Yesterday had lovely moments in it, even though the soundtrack of the movie of my life was an unending refrain of crap. crap. crap. you're worthless. go back to bed. you're a waste of flesh. crap. crap. crap...
But getting back to the lovely moments, because they WERE there. I found out something really amazing about the play that I was in last year: Blacks Don't Bowl. I'm not allowed to say anything until it's made official next Monday, but suffice to say, it's awesome news. Already, we were nominated for a MECCA award for Best Ensemble this year (we didn't win, but it's still pretty amazing that my first professional play is so critically and popularly acclaimed). I also had a great time with Sandra, just talking, eating (healthily) and watching Nacho Libre. That film had such potential to be awesome, if only Jared Hess had been able to get Jack Black to dial it down about two notches. Oh well. It's still the only other Jack Black movie I've ever liked. (The other one was School of Rock.)

I think I'm back on track today, though. I've moved beyond feeling sad and depressed to channeling all my anger, hurt and other such icky feelings into the monster of a workout that Laurent had planned for me. And it worked. I was a beast. In the best possible way. I actually arrived at some new strength goals today, which is really cool. I'm so close to leg pressing 100 pounds, it's not even funny. And I can row 100 pounds. I can compress 120 pounds with my hip abductors and adductors. And all the while, I listened to Chaka Khan's I'm Every Woman on my discman. I feel much better now.

Ah, but will it hold? Tune in next time, I guess. Or not.

Have you ever been

so tired that you're a danger to yourself?

I'm a wee bit sleep-deprived today and feeling so lightheaded that I couldn't work out today. I sat down to lunch in the staff room at the gym and I put my head down for a second and woke up a half-hour later. And there was drool on my arm. Ewww.

Now I'm at the office, but I can't concentrate. I've tripped over the garbage can at the gym, banged my elbow on my desk, and I'm about ready to give it all up as a bad job and just go home.

I'm also feeling somewhat reckless and in the mood for a bacon double cheeseburger. Which would be seriously counterproductive to my efforts at exercise and healthy eating as of late. I think it's just Aunt Flo talking. I may not have the burger, but I'm going to have something special, I just don't know what yet.

Any suggestions?

Just a quick update...

My body is WIPED OUT from a Laban workshop last night with Liz Valdez (no relation to Juan) and from a new training regimen the head trainer at my gym gave me. Then again, I'm sure the sangria pitchers we shared afterwards didn't help matters either. Owee. But I'm gonna be supafly once it's all over, hurray!

(Yes it's a superficial entry, but these days, I really have no life except my imaginary one. I go to work, I come home and sleep. That's about it. Actually, no that's not strictly true. Lately I've been trying to squeeze in a social life of sorts, but my body will never be able to withstand the pace in the long run. Soon, I'll have to become a hermit again, just to avoid getting overexhausted, which leads to illness, which leads to decreased income, which, when you think about it is deeply depressing, considering that I'll gross just under 15,000 and that's while working three jobs. Something is very, deeply wrong here.)

But here's what has been entertaining my mind lately:

A Prayer For Owen Meany. Gotta dig that John Irving. I think this week may become a John Irving festival. I just finished the Cider House Rules, and I think my next stop is Widow For One Year.

Solitaire. But not just the regular stuff. Tri-Peaks, Spider, and all that good stuff. I'm a little Sudoku'd out right now.

What I'd do if I won the lottery. Bye-bye debts, put some in savings, share some with my immediate family, and then take me and my girlfriends (which happens to include my mom, stepmom, sisters and cousin Janice) to some tropical island for three weeks where they've got a celebrity spa and we all can come back looking gorgeous like Halle Berry. It's a pleasant fiction.

Reading Mr. Cranky. This review of Borat is so succint. I wish I could express what I feel about all the hullaboo surrounding this movie so well. (I mean for pete's sake, I just said "hullaboo," obviously I'm wallowing deep in a miasma of inarticulateness. And droppping ridiculously multisyllabic words in hopes that y'all think I'm clever. Heh.) Well played, Mr. Cranky. Well played.

Fallen Angels. The Noel Coward play I saw at the Saidye on Monday night. The ladies were the bomb, (especially Claire Coulter! I mean, she's all kinds of awesome. Whoa.) the men were competent, and the token pretty boy was a waste of flesh and space. Even his not-inconsiderable loveliness could not counterbalance his utter crappiness. I must be growing more mature if I've grown so unwilling to dismiss the utter insipidity of the mind-scramblingly beautiful. Good.

A Cow With Horns. The video clip of my dad in Nigeria documenting the cows he passes on the way to work, just before one of them began to charge after him. Poor Dad. It's always an adventure for him every time he goes over. I wish I knew how to upload the clip for y'all to see it. It's money, Baby.

Okay, now I'm off. And just so you know yet another piece of totally insignificant news about me (I told you my life is boring right now):

Tune in next week for my review of my first experience playing Dance Revolution at Eileen's this coming weekend! Thrills! Spills! And hopefully, Skillz!

Right now I'm craving...

With gravy. Yum! Oh so good.
(Of course, if I were to probe a little deeper, it may be more accurate to say that I'm craving some kind of comfort.)

Oh no! Actually, what I'm really craving is...



and especially....


Oh God, Mummy I miss you! That's what I'm craving the most. Your company.

And I'm sorry, the West Indian restaurants in town just can't compete. (And not because she's my mom, so obviously I think she's the best.) No, we ALL think she's the best. Anyone who's ever eaten her food knows what's up. She's a caterer, yo. Man, if she opened up a place in town, she'd have the lot of them up against the ropes.


I need to pay better attention when she cooks, actually, so that maybe I can satisfy my cravings myself. But somehow, I doubt that I can get that same special "something", even with the aid of my trusty Naparima Girls High School Cookbook. And if you've ever tried to pry your grandmother's recipe for something out of her and have gotten the response, "Well, put some of this and this and this and stir it until it looks right" or some other derivative of that response then you know. Some recipes can't be measured. You've just gotta feel it and know what you like.

Mmm....roti..... *slobber!*