Just came up for air to say...

that I've been pretty doggone useless for days now and would be loving it if I could just shake off the guilt for being pretty much inert since Monday. I've had immense difficult prying myself off the sofa at all. perhaps a pulley system would be the thing I need to haul myself off the tar pit that is my sofa... Today is the first day I've actually managed to leave my house for anything other than DVD rentals or munchies. But now, though junk food is grossing me out, I'm too lazy to want to have to get anything else. Where is that manservant of mine, Julio?

So, the reason I'm so lazy and exhausted is because I've finally finished the School Tour for Afrika Solo. I'm sad and thrilled all at the same time. I loved being with Janet all these weeks. There were many joys and many frustrations as well, but I learned so much about myself as an actor. And I really needed to just get that experience under my belt and start trusting that I have been given a gift. And honeys, I plan to work it till I cain't work it no mo'!

To tell the truth, I've been a teensy bit in mourning since the tour ended. The beautiful thing about theatre is that it is a living entity, and so it's exciting and ephemeral and very precious. The sad thing is that it has a very definite life span, and when it's gone, it's gone, and you can't get it back. It dies. Not like film, which you can preserve. So, after the weekend, the final closing of the tour, I cried a little for its death, we struck the set, and then it was time for the wake. With three beautiful men and ME! (So two of them were gay, and the other has a devastatingly pretty girlfriend, but it doesn't matter, because) I was macking out at the Cock 'N Bull with a Guinness in one hand, and a slice of pizza in the other, and nothing but good looking men all around the table. Yes indeedy, I sure was living right that afternoon.

(I babysat my friends baby that evening, who has such a haunting and persistent cry that after I got home, I dreamt about it later on that night. Twice. Dreaming about that little donut's cry woke me out of a dead sleep that night.)

I really will clean my room. And all the other stuff I said I'd do this week. I really will. I will work out this week and try not to blow up to the size of a baby killer whale. I really will try. Oh right, and I have to deal with ACTRA this week. Crap.
(But at least I may manage to actually get paid for that webcast thingy, which would be good. And the only reason I haven't been paid is because I'm whatless.)
And schedule some head shots. Double crap. More money spent, because to do that, I'll need to get my makeup done. Crap.

I thought it would be easier to get all kinds of stuff accomplished this week, since I actually have time, but the second I slowed down to get a little rest, it's like that's all my body wants to do now, is catch up on missed sleep. I walk around feeling drunk most of the time. Maybe that's the other reason why I don't want to leave the house. I don't need people to think I'm some kind of welfare mom, crack-ho refugee from the movie Jungle Fever. 'Cause my hair is crazy too, nowadays.

Well actually, I had to work today, which was a strong motivator for making me leave my house. Thank God for weaves. Got a little bit of cash in hand, whee-ha! So now I'm plotting my first return to the hairdresser since October. (Lord, that sounds frightening and whatless, doesn't it?) I also need to put some cash aside for rent. Which would be good, (can I get an amen, Stephanie?) and also so I can scare up enough money to pay for a therapy session.

He's cutting me a deal, is good 'ol Alan, so it's not going to be as expensive as I anticipated, but it's still kind of daunting. Nevertheless, the mild panic attack I suffered at the prospect of actually leaving the house today indicates to me that professional help is a must. Yes, we've got ourselves some self-esteem issues a-plenty. Funny, I thought I was manging pretty well, up until I made the decision recently that I have to stop sweeping all my stuff under the rug and putting off the dealing with all those little neuroses that make me so charming, so complicated, so attractive, yet so repellant, and so utterly infuriating to others. It's even been said once that living with me can make one suicidal. (Okay, it was my ex, and so perhaps he's not exactly objective about the whole thing.)

Anyhoo here I am, stayin' alive, and whether I want to or not, unable to avoid getting back on track. I still have some work to do, getting off-book before rehearsals for Blacks Don't Bowl next week, and I need to do my directing homework for all of the Youthworks projects to come in May. I'm in the midst of rehearsals and there is just so much work to cover and not enough time.
You know, I think I'm going to go and find some place where I can chill with a beverage and begin to organize my thoughts with regard to working all that mess out. Or I might go to bed asap and try to start fresh tomorrow.

Hm. Beverage and work, or home and sleep. Tough call.

The Home Stretch

Oh yes...

Two more days to go, and the school tour is done and done! Playing for an audience that ranges from 6 to 24 years old has been quite the interesting challenge! I'm happy and sad, that it's almost over, but truth be told, I'm mostly happy because I'm in desperate need of sleep. Having next week off will be amazing! I'm sure that I'll veg a fair bit, but I'll be able to do so many things I've put off for ages, like clean my room, get my hair done, get a massage, do my filing and other miscellaneous administrative-type stuff that I've put off forever, see my family, see my friends, see my therapist...

Hm. Actually, if I'm not careful, next week will end up being as jam-packed as usual. Good Lord, I'm a compulsive schedule-filler.

Oh, and my cell phone got stolen this week, so I've lost all my phone numbers. Call me and give me your phone numbers again, please! (I'll even try to call at a decent hour!)

Loving you!

Wh...wha???

I woke up this morning a full four pounds heavier than I was over the weekend. Sources say that I went on a mad chocolate and potato chip binge, but I'm not buying it until I see photgraphic proof, or until it shows up in People Magazine. Then you know it's fact.

This week was an awesome one for the tour. Some truly warm and receptive audiences. Wow. It made me really grateful that I have this job. What a way to make a living. Meaninful theatre that stimulates discourse and love and deep thought. We were out in Prevost yesterday at Batshaw, and it was an extravaganza. Once a year, they have a special to-do for Black History Month. We set up, and then sat down to lunch with all the students before doing the show. And the food? Whoo-ee! It was a festival! Somebody's mama was all up in there cooking, because there were accra, stewed beef, fried chicken, jerk chicken, spicy jamaican patties, peas and rice, ackee and saltfish, fried cod, plantain, fried dumpling, and chicken roti. I ate some of everything. Oh, yes I did, and I don't even feel bad about it, because it was the BOMB!!!! That lady knows how to throw down in the kitchen.

(any of you wiseguys in the background suggesting that that's where all the weight crept on can put a sock in it, thank you. I defy Ghandhi or anyone else with superhuman self-control to resist the magic of that feast. Even the little teeny-bopper girls couldn't front: they loaded up their plates too.)

After the show, they had an awards ceremony and gave us plaques and flowers to thank us for being there, and then this young man came up and did some spoken word poetry that he had written about Black History Month. I can't lie: I cried, because it was so beautiful, and so painful. (perhaps the upcoming visit of my Aunt Flo has something to do with it too, but that's the only reason why I couldn't hold it in, because I would've felt the same way, no matter what time of the month I heard it)

Okay, that's it for now. I loves ya, lots and lots. Call me or something, okay?

Now's Your Chance!

To come see me in AFRIKA SOLO!

Yes indeedy, on Saturday, February 25th, at 2pm, you can come to the MAI (3680 Jeanne Mance) to Black Theatre Workshop (4th floor) and check out the show! It's only $5, and the seating is limited, so reserve your tickets today!

(514) 932-1104 xt. 226, ask for Craig.

Cheers!

It's a celebration, Snitches!

Heh heh.

Actually, I'm just fired up about this week. It's full of theatre and all the good stuff I like so much. last night, I was with the Youthworks girls, working on their performance piece that'll be going up in May. It's so awesome.

However, tonight, I've got an interview on CKUT to plug the school tour. H'ray. I'm a little nervous about that. I'm never as articulate as I want to be under pressure. Oh well.

Tonight I'm going to see Criminals in Love at the DB Clarke. Some friends of mine are in it, and the play is actually a pretty funny one, although a little absurd. George F. Walker. I don't know if I like his work or not. Anyway, does it matter?

Tomorrow, I'm going to see Ghislaine's dance show at Tangeante. I'm fired up! I haven't seen her dance in over a year!

Saturday, I'm taking Angie to see Johnny Canuck. Whee-ha! Sunday, it's closing night for the burlesque, and I plan to rock out my costume. Can't wait!

Ended up with the day off, so now, I can have a leisurely session at the gym, and then actually get some reports filed for Youthworks, I've fallen a bit behind. It'll be nice to feel like I'm earning all of my paychecks. I do earn them (believe me!), it's just that sometimes I think I could be giving more and better than I am at present.

One week down...

Had my first Monday morning gig on the tour. Ouch. I mean that literally. My back is spasming something awful today. I need to look into getting a massage or something.
Although I don't feel that I gave my personal best today, I can say that it was nonetheless a competent performance on my part. I'm a lucky woman, I have a great job. So, next stop, the gym for a light workout and a long relaxing stretching session in the sauna. Hopefully, I'll feel better in the morning...for my 7a.m. call!
(No, we're less than thrilled about that.)

If any of you like burlesque, you've got to see Johnny Canuck and the Last Burlesque at Mainline theatre, St. Laurent Blvd. near Duluth. Last Friday was the best!

Saturday was Angie's sweet sixteen party. 'Twas cute. I fried up a mountain of plantain.

Anyhow, I'm off into the sunset again. Love and kisses, Beautiful People!

As I was saying...

Last night (now two nights ago) I watched my new DVD, Pride and Predjudice, with Colin Firth! (sigh...he's so purty.)

H'ray, second day of the tour was a smashing success yet again. Cool kids, and a cool show, and a cool crew. And a cool actress, apparently. This show is the most amazing way to begin my professional career. A light workload (comparatively, I mean, normally there are twice as many schools scheduled on the tour than we have this year), lots of love and appreciation from the audiences, and work that's just hard enough to prepare me sufficiently for future gigs and to teach me to be really grateful when the time comes for me to actually get a dressing room. Ah, what a thought.

Tonight, I'm helping out at Johnny Canuck and the Last Burlesque. Hee hee! It's a hilarious and saucy show! Good clean(?) fun for all, eye candy for everyone! Good looking and funny people. It's a winner. I'm going to be the cute usherette at the bar who gets chased around by the Marx Brothers at Intermission. Haw haw!

Black History Month

It's on, Baby!

So, I did my first shows of the tour and they went really well, better than I expected from a high school audience. I had fun. I'm learning all the time. But I am knackered. In new and deep ways I have never yet felt. I was going to go to the Luther Vandross tribute tonight at the Lion D'Or, but fergit that, I have two shows again tomorrow, and my call is 8 am. No, Downtown Miz Brown will be sleeping tonight.

And in the end, I shopped a little bit yesterday. Got two cds (Alicia Keys live and John Legend--so talented, the pair of them. I'm in Rn'B heaven right now.) and a proper discman. Stephanie has now put me on a month-long shopping fast. No shopping for anything, except groceries for at least a month. But it was worth it. Of course she's right. I still have stuff like student loans and whatnot to take care of. And it would be nice to make it to April with some kind of savings put aside. (Check back later to see if this happens.)

So, I'm teaching tonight and then, beddie-bye.
Ooh, but I must say this! Last

Afrika Solo

Howdy howdy howdy!

Tomorrow, we open for our first show of the School Tour! I'm fired up, boys and girls because we did our dress rehearsal today and were finished in record time! I really feel that we are ready for this run! I'm actually excited. As opposed to sick with worry and insecurity, which is a good thing. I'm really proud of this show. You have to come and see it at Black Theatre Workshop on February 25th. It's free, I think. And free is always good. I'm a big fan of free.

And I can't believe we're finishing rehearsal early today. I don't know what to do with myself!
I could go home, but then I'd feel guilty for not running my lines and cleaning my bedroom, which I really don't want to do.
I shouldn't go shopping, because I'm trying to save money (although the chances are still pretty good that I'll do it anyway), so I could do something like catch a movie, which I haven't done in ages, or go get a pedicure (it's been forever, and my feet are turning into hooves) or I could go and park my butt down in Indigo for a marathon reading session.
Mmm...sounds like good, clean, free fun. (And you know how I feel about free stuff.)

Ah. I know I'm not going back to the gym, because that would be obsessive...I'm finally back on track with my eating and exercising, and being balanced about it. I don't work out like a marine these days, since I don't have all t hat unresolved anger and misery that I was feeling last summer. Which reminds me that I still have unfinished business on that front to take care of. Well, it's not on my plate right now, so I'll deal with it when it's time.

Oh yes, it's looking like Indigo will be the way to go. Maybe I'll shop there. No I won't! I'll be good.

And then I'll go home and do all that responsible stuff I really should do. But most of all, I'm going to to get lots of rest. And be fresh and so clean, clean for tomorrow. We start bright and early, but not obscenely so. Which is cool.

So, please give us a call when you can. I know my cell is always off and goes straight to the message, but it would be tacky beyond words if it rang in the middle of a performance. I know you understand. And I promise to call back. Meet me halfway, okay? You know my love and affection is unabated, it's just that my attention span, sadly, is what it is. I'm soon going to have some hanging around time for the people I love, so call me and set it up. First come, first served!

Hey, Dad's finally back from Africa! I missed him so much! This poor man goes through all kinds of adventures (of the embarrassing, uncomfortable and vaguely hazardous and unsettling kind) when he goes overseas. If you know my dad, call him and show him some love! And yes, I am practicing what I preach. Just so you know.

Stephanie is doing so amazing these days! We've been on a diet together, and exercising. Let me tell you, in the beginning, she called me Coach, and it wasn't the gentle motivational kind. I was kicking her butt (so she says). Now, she's the one who's motivating and inspiring me with her diligence, her discipline and her perseverance. She's kicking my butt. And it's cool. I like this mutual support deal. I kind of always wanted to be the lone wolf, because somehow it feels really cool when you know you've reached your goals on your own steam. But you know what? It takes a lot longer to do it that way, and quite frankly, it's not a bad thing at all to be grateful to someone else's hand in your victory. So this is T-Bone saying, "Thank you, thank you Stephanie. You are the wind beneath my wings..."

Heh heh, ain't it always the way? You don't hear from me for ages, and then when you do, I blather on and on and on. I love you amigos, don't give up on me, okay? Stay in touch, because I need you, and I need to know when you need me too. Then I can help. Which I want to do.

Breathe, Stretch, Shake, Let it Go

Did anyone see American Idol last night? It was painful, irritating, rarely funny, and only fleetingly gratifying. You look at these crazy people who come dressed up as the Statue of Liberty, or howling like dogs and ask yourself : why are they even showing up at these auditions? Either they want their 30 seconds of fame (read: infamy) on television, or their friends and family lie to them, telling them that they are really good. And as I watched the two hour special, I could feel my shoulders creeping up beside my ears.

And I ask myself: why am I watching this? I'm afraid to examine too closely the side of me that is willing to watch and mock others, and to masochistically wade through the trough of bad notes. The fact that these people willingly seek this kind of humiliation out somehow doesn't make me feel absolved of my part of guilt. I can't laugh at people's disappointment and disillusionment. It's too reminiscent of experiences I've had in the past, and it touches on my deep-seated fears for my future as a performer. Let me tell you something: Auditioning sucks. The only time it's not a stressful experience (thus far) is when you don't give a hoot about the outcome. In which case, why show up in the first place?

I've decided to skip the cattle calls for the next few weeks and wait and see what happens once they all get to Hollywood.

I woke up today to a crazy, drippy, freezing, rainy morning. My shoulders shot right back up around my ears.
Let me tell you: Puppies, I have witnessed the darker side of humanity this morning.

It has taken me one and a half hours to get to work today. An hour longer than usual. And this was with a cab. I thought I'd spring for the extra 5 or six bucks from the subway just to avoid the rain, treacherously icy sidewalks (why wasn't there any salt today?), and the crush of the bus (because I sure as sugar wasn't going to actually attempt to walk up the matterhorn that is Jeanne Mance). Partway up the hill in the cab, we had to back down again, because there was an accident at the top of the hill.

So we took another route about seven blocks away, and don't you know, there was yet another accident on that corner. Once we finally negotiated our way around it (16 dollars and twenty minutes have rolled by on the meter by now) and started up Aylmer, which is yet another hill, although less steep, we began to skid backwards all the way back down the street, and were not able get any traction. Homeboy had neglected to install his winter tires.

Ten minutes later, the cabbie is spewing a string of Creole profanity at top volume, waiting for one of the cars behind us to back up a foot and half so he could try to build up momentum. I finally lift my head out of my hands to see two people slip and fall down on the sidewalk and to see a TV camera filming our pitiful attempt to get up the hill. I wish I could say that I was able to appreciate how funny we must have looked. I confess that I seriously struggled against the desire to flip the cameraman the bird and ruin his shot. But the important thing is finally, we made it up the hill!

The rest of the trip was relatively uneventful, save for a few people trying to hop in our cab everytime we stopped at an intersection. I never thought I would fear the elderly, but this one lady filled me with an unholy terror when she banged on the window. Still, the poor thing. She was wet, and cold, and exaperated. And yet, I still locked the door. (Crazy wench wasn't going to get me, no sir.)

When we pulled up in front of the MAI 30 minutes or so after leaving Place des Arts Metro, the cabbie stopped the meter and looked back at me expectantly. I looked at the meter and looked back at him. I don't have the heart to tell you the final total cost of what was supposed to be a four block trip amounted to. It only took him a moment to catch on and decide to only charge me ten bucks for the whole ordeal.

Which is a good thing, you know, because I didn't want to begin my day of rehearsing a play about loving black people by committing violent, black-on-black crime before 9 am in the morning. Why do I ever take cab rides anywhere? You'd think I'd have learned my lesson how badly a simple, ten-minute ride can go awry.

Oh...right, because I'm lazy. I knew there was a good reason.

My shoulders are only just beginning to relax now, but I really do wish I had a handy manservant to give me massages. Where is that Julio when I need him?

Eye of the Tiger

Good morning, Darlings!

Last night I saw the conclusion to the season premiere of 24. Oh yeah, it's ON, baby! But can we just take a moment of silence for the loss of President Palmer? Brother, you hung in there for three seasons before they killed you off. That's gotta be a record somewhere.

I've just returned from the gym and am now enjoying the few calm moments I have left before rehearsal. When I got there this morning, I was so tired, I wished I was dead. (No, really.) My theme song was "I don't like Mondays," even though it's Tuesday. It felt like a Monday.
But upon leaving, I felt charged! (Dun! Dun-dun-dun! Dun-dun-dun! Dun-dun-dunnnnn!)

So, I'd better make the most of this calm time before my ridiculously exhausting rehearsal today (this, more than anything convinced me of the need to get back in shape, I thought I was going to hyperventilate at one point yesterday) and get to work on my lines. Ah, I look forward to tonight, when I shall have no plans more rigorous than collapsing onto my sofa to watch American Idol. Judge me if you dare.

Aaaaaand....we're back!

Hello Beautiful people, and greetings for the New Year!

Atlantic City was a trip, let me tell you. I met some mafia people on our final night at the casino, which convinced me that more than ever, I do need a break from that line of work. All I have to say about that experience is that the days of black folk on the auction block are PAST. Sisterfriend ain't for sale. Can I get an amen?

Anyhoo, I got home and the moment I let myself relax, I caught a cold (ain't it always the way?). So honeychile, I slept and slept and slept and slept. With brief breaks for eating and other kinds of sloth in front of the DVD. But don't think for a moment that that week was unproductive. Oh no. I managed to find time to give to others. Namely my cold. To Stephanie. (Sorry, Mommy!)

So this week has been a big one! If you know me, you know that of course I'm working stupid hours (that's just how we do. Keeps me out of trouble and probably makes me feel like I'm doing something useful instead of just taking up space, I dunnno) but I'm having fun. Constantly learning!

And feeling like I'm in over my head to a certain degree. Which is not a bad thing in the sense that I'm really open to learning and observing. I'm a bit intimidated by the company that I'm keeping which gets me a bit stressed and nervy. I just need to relax and be here and not try so hard. I think it's the switch in mentality from being a student and striving for grades and being a professional and just reveling in the process, in the experience of being an actor. Good Lord, I'm getting paid to act! Shoot, I'm getting PAID! That in and of itself is wicked.

Anyway, gotta run. (Big surprise.)

All good things...

...sadly can't last forever. Today is my last day in Ottawa, where I've chilled with Mom, slept (although not as much as I needed), read books, watched movies, and ate shocking amounts of food. It has been deeply good.
Although sadly, I look like the Michelin Man (which couldn't come at a worse time--horrors!--right before I have to go sing in AC at the casino for a few days) I find myself in either an advanced state of denial or one of rebellion about the whole thing.
Either way, I've just about had it with the kind of job for which my appearance is more important than my ability (although, to be strictly fair, it is not the way my truly decent colleagues feel about me).
One can never say never (particularly when you live from contract to contract) but I can say quite confidently that I would be ecstatic to never, ever have to sing in casinos ever again.

But enough of that. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, and best to all you you this holiday season, whatever your faith may be. I'm not sure whether or not I'll post again before the new year (seeing as I have two scripts to bang through and start memorizing before January 9th and haven't even begun to look at them although I've had them with me all week) so if I don't, let me just say this:

This past year has been a horrible one for the entire world. So much tragedy and disaster on a global scale, and so much heartache and suffering on a personal level: not only in my life, but in so many other's lives, and perhaps yours. Things just seem to keep on going from bad to worse, with no apparent end in sight.
But you know what? There have been some incredible moments this year too. Some monumental victories, and also some incidental, sunny moments that relieve the gloom, if only for a little while. They may not outweigh the challenges, but they do lighten the load. And for those moments, I am grateful, and I must remind myself to cling to those things, those moments, and most of all those people who make it worthwhile to carry on.

Because in the end, that's the stuff that stays with you when there's nothing left, isn't it? To all of you who who've made it worthwhile for me to keep going through what is hands down the worst year of my life up until now, I thank you and love you.


Still I Rise

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard'
Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Maya Angelou

Boogie Down Motown

I saw the Rene Simard production of Génération Motown at the Hull Casino, and let me tell ya, it was a good show. We were at a table right in the front row, and it was cool! Big ups to my babees Snooky, MC (who is hands down, my favourite person to sing with EVER), and Dawn! The little things that got on my nerves didn't really leave a lasting impression on me, because the setup was hot, the music selection was the bomb, and the dancers were amazing (although there was this one scary dancer chick who was scarily coked-up hyper and was wearing a pair of pants that gave her a serious case of camel toe. Let me tell you, cute as she was, noone wanted to see her hot dog bun.)

And dayumn, they had a new addition to the troupe, Franck. Brother can SANG. That is all.

At one point, when the Rick James tribute came out (yes, you heard me) I desperately, burningly, wanted to shout out, "CHARLIE MURPHY!!!" but I was too close to the stage. If I'd only have been like, three rows back, I could have been loud enough for them to hear me, but not close enough for them to know it was me.

Sniff!

Rent was so good! Jesse L. Martin is amazing! and so was Wilson Jermaine Heredia. I was weepy for a solid fifteen minutes after I left the theater, just thinking about that performance. They were just so GOOD! I'm on the verge of crying again. What fun! It feels good to cry at movies. I'd so much rather cry for a movie than for my life, you know what I'm sayin?

Ahhhh...that's better.

Chillin' chez Maman, eating yummy (if not strictly health-conscious) food, reading books, going shopping, watching movies, uninterrupted surfing time all makes for a truly dynomite beginning of the holidays. I made it through the semester alive! H'ray!

Tomorrow I'm going to go see Rent with my Mom, and maybe after we'll go out and eat some ribs. (yum!) And on Wednesday, I'm going to see Génération Motown at the Casino! Some of my friends are in it, so I'm excited to finally get to see the show! Third row seats too, baby!

It's unbelievable, now that I'm in Ontario (and Mom has cable) I'm seeing my friends in all these movies, tv shows, and commercials that don't seem to get aired much in Montreal. I'm shrieking at least two times a day with excitement. Which is quite a fair bit of progress from the days when I'd see former classmates and colleagues onscreen (big or little) and be thinking "what the hell am I doing with my life, then?" -type reflections of my own loserdom. Now I'm just happy for them.

And nowadays I know I'm not a loser.
I may be a little chubby.
But still cute nonetheless.
Which helps.

Finally

The semester is done, I'm chillin at Mom's and I'm trying to catch up on sleep. I may just eat far too much, my fatness be damned. I'll be back in January, but I'll try to keep y'all posted of any new and exciting events and/or revelations that come up. For now, all that's happened is this:

Am re-reading Memoirs of a Geisha for the 11th time.
Played Cranium for the first time.

It's all good.

Yippee!

Y'all know that I'm a Potterphile, right? Well, Lianne and I are going to see Goblet of Fire tonight, and I'm fired up! I loved that book, and I can't wait to see Ralph Fiennes at work. It's a darker movie for sure (PG 13 now!) and I like Mike Newell's work (Four Wedding and a Funeral director--hee hee!)

And well, it's my second time going to see it, so I'm looking forward to being able to take in more the second time around. The first time I saw it, I was mostly troubled and preoccupied by Brendan Gleeson as Mad-Eye Moony (I had nightmares about his character the night I saw the movie) and by how the kids are growing up. I mean, I remember cute little Dan Radcliffe in the first movie and now...he's growing up to be vaguely hot! He has muscles and hairy legs and all, and I feel a little bit like a dirty old woman for noticing.

So yeah, I'm looking forward to noticing other stuff like the effects and the acting and the pacing of the story's narrative and whatnot.

The Knitwit

Yes, dear friends, it's that time of year again, when the weather gets cold, and the holidays approach, and melancholia about my non-functioning marriage sets in again.
These are the times when I'm a little hard on myself: eating unhealthy food, drinking alcohol, not sleeping enough (but when I do manage it, doing it at odd hours), neglecting my fitness routine, and smoking cigarettes.

So since the smoking thing has gotten out of hand, I've taken up knitting once again! Keeps my hands busy and me from getting bored. I don't know what it is about the process of knitting, but the rhythm and the repetition of it is soothing. It might be the fact that you can see your progress, even when it feels like things are going slowly, you can measure it and see that you have moved ahead. And then there's the fact that if you make a mistake, you can just pull it out and start over. There's also something about the sense of accomplishment you get when you finish a project. It's quite therapeutic actually. Sometimes I wish life could be more like that.

Anyhoo, the point is, scarves are forthcoming again my lovelies! If you have never received one from me yet, there's a good chance you might get one this winter!

More Funk Defenders

Yep, we'll be doin' our thang at Brutopia on December 3rd. Tell a friend!

Oh, and by the way, I've tried The World's Greatest Sandwich as featured in the movie Spanglish, and it is the bomb! It must be accompanied by a tasty glass of beer, though. (Which I had, and it was gooood.)

That is all.

The Flavour of the Month

Check it out, Check it out, Check it out y'all!

I have just gotten word that I've been cast in the Black Theatre Workshop School Tour next spring! It's a one-woman show (which I've never done before) called Afrika Solo about a girl who goes to Africa to get in touch with her roots!

So now, as of January next year, I'll be working exclusively at Black Theatre Workshop! First working on Afrika Solo, and then two days later on Blacks Don't Bowl! And all the while I'll be teaching in their Youthworks theatre training program! I'll be working pretty steadily from January through until May! I'll be for once doing exactly what I love, making a (really) decent living at it, without having to work more than two jobs at once!

So all of y'all best be coming to see me act in the show! How amazing is this???!!!?? Not only do I get cast in my first professional production, the same place wants to keep on working with me for other productions!!!! I'm really really excited!!!! (Can't you tell by my excessive use of exclamation marks?)

Go, Me! (Someone pat me on the back or something...)

Part Deux...

So anyway, I finally phoned my bandleader, and he came down to rescue me. SO then I had fifteen minutes to get changed, throw on some makeup and choose from an assortment of wigs before we go on stage. Guess who's supposed to kick off the festivities with a rousing rendition of Aretha Franklin? Yep, yours truly. Anyhooo,

Who says women take forever to get ready? I managed to just slap on some lipstick right before we had to rush down to the backstage and get ready to go onstage. Where I learned that all of our chit chatting, and entertainment had to be in French, and that we were performing for an awards night. The Association of Chefs in Montreal or somesuch. And the Director of the Association was completely hammered and having to hang on to the podium microphone to remain upright. She skipped right over our segment of the evening's festivities and continued to to present awards and blather on (with only the faintest detectable slurring). Oh, the sound crews were vexed. I learned colourful new curse words in French (wish I'd have known them when I was in the taxi) and laughing so hard, and yet so quietly that I was sure I would burst my corset. Happily, I didn't and all of my bits and pieces stayed inside the costume where they belonged.

Half an hour later (yes, we're still waiting in the wings offstage) they manage to trundle the poor drunken sot offstage, and we went on to do our bit for the remaining ten minutes alottted to us for our first set. And when it came time to do our second set, which was scheduled a mere twenty minutes later, we had another twenty minute wait while the aforementioned Drunken Duchess giggled into the microphone.

But we made it through alive, all of my naughty bits remained covered, although I didn't feel personally it was my best show ever. The sound man didn't route my voice into the stage monitors, so I had to bellow to hear myself in the speakers in the room. He couldn't seem to understand my sign language gestures indicating to him to raise the volume in the monitors--perhaps my gestures were too subtle. But he didn't seem to notice the musicians frantically windmilling their arms to get his attention either, so...maybe he just thought it was our band choreography. Dunno.

Gotta love those corporate gigs. And why? 'Cause we got paid. And they liked us anyway. So how about that? Just goes to show you, the product they're looking for has little to do with musical virtuosity and everything to do with chicks in sparkly outfits with lots of decolletage.

Thus ends the saga.

While I'm bellyachin' about my life, I'd just like to say that the Concordia Library computers in the lab are CRAP. This is the third time they have corrupted my diskettes and I have been unable to access my homework. We are not amused.

And the snow is pretty innit? If only I could watch it through a window by the fireplace in a lovely chalet while being served glasses of wine, and buckets of Popeye's fried chicken, bags of swedish berries, and philly cheesesteaks by a hunky manservant named Julio.

Cooking With Gas...

Kay has been good enough to remind me that I never told you how it went at the Casino. Well, let me tell you--t'was an adventure.

I had to leave class a bit early to get there on time, as my bandleader had asked me to pick up a VHS tape so that we could record the show for promotional purposes.

I hailed a taxi from downtown, with fifteen minutes to spare before I was supposed to check in at Security. Yes, I was cutting it close, and feeling a little stressed. I hopped in the cab and requested my destination.
"What route do you want to take to get there?"
"Listen, if you don't know how to get to the Casino, I can just take another cab, no problem."
"No, NO! Just wait a second...(He pulls over and pulls out a map.) I'm a new driver, and the regulation is that we don't drive off until we know exactly how to get to a given destination."
Five minutes later...
"I'm in a hurry, I'm just getting in another cab, I have to be at work, it's my first day."
"No, no, I've got it."
(Ten minutes later, after a scenic tour of downtown Montreal and its bridges)
"Miss, I'm going to be honest...I'm calling another cab to take you the rest of the way because I'm lost."

I yelled. A lot. Stuff along the lines of I knew it! Why wouldn't you let me out of the car, you're an idiot and prideful, if you cost me my job, I'm going to cost you yours...stuff like that. What can I say? I was vex. I am proud to say that profanity never entered into the conversation, I wanted to maintain my dignity as much as I possibly could, but I also didn't want him to turn crazy and drive me out even further in Nowheresville while there was still a chance I could get another cab. But as long as we're all being perfectly honest, it's also (to a tiny extent) because the above conversation was happening in French and cursing in French doesn't feel like cursing to me. No satisfying venting of emotion possible, and it's hard to curse with any sort of authority when you get the accent wrong.

Ten minutes later, I finally arrived at the Security desk (ten minutes late) to get my badge. Problem. Noone's there from the band, or the staff associated with our contract to lead me to the backstage area where I can get dressed and changed. I have no idea where I'm supposed to go, and the security guard cannot leave his post. What's more, he's not particularly interested in my plight.

What happened next? Tune in later for the next installment of Cooking With Gas, sponsored by Pooty Pootwell and Co.

Go Shawty, it's ya birthday...

Actually, it's not, but it's the song that popped into my head when I realized that this was my fiftieth post. Oddly enough, I don't like 50-Cent at all, or anything that he stands for, although lately my life is somewhat reflective of his motto: Get rich or die tryin'. But mine's the bargain basement version: Make ends meet or die tryin'. Maybe if I could bring myself to be a goldigger (and I could manage to rid myself of the cold, sick, and frightened feeling I get whenever nice lookin--actually, any--men smile at me) I could.

Singing at the Casino de Montreal tonight...woo.
(I guess that seems rather ungrateful of me, doesn't it? Sigh...it's a living.)
Big bisous to all of you, call me write me, show a sister some love!

Can you dig it?

What a nice feeling to be on top of your game...For the second week running, I'm managing to stay on top of all my tasks AND find time to exercise (which I hadn't done for a little while).

Although I can't lie, a big motivator for the exercise thing is the gig at Casino de Montréal coming up on Tuesday. Got to look the part, blah blah...and if that gig goes well, maybe our band will start getting corporate gigs in town instead of having to go to Atlantic City! Which would be fab. I don't know if I can stand another extended period of time at the Quality Inn over there...although the band members and I fondly(?) dub the place Calcutta.

Anyhoo. I had an audition for the Artistic Director of Black Theatre Workshop today, although I wasn't really auditioning for any specific role (to my knowledge) I presumed that Tyrone (call him!) just wanted to see if I was any good as an actor. And well, not to toot my own horn, but I am. The Bomb. His words were, "You rock!" How gratifying. Wouldn't it be nice if next year I made a living as an actor for even six months out of the year? And I wouldn't have to be a maid, a hooker, or a criminal of some sort! I've got a big stupid grin right here in the computer lab just dreaming about it.

Speaking of dreaming...I've been dreaming for the past week about being involved in romantic-type relationships with random people of my entourage that I'm not even interested in or attracted to. I wonder if this is my subconscious warming up to the concept of eventually one day in the next decade being somewhat willing to consider actually getting involved with someone, or if it's my subconscious telling me not to bother, that it's not going to be worth it. Dunno. In any case, who has the time? I don't have any social life to speak of, for one. Secondly, I'm really digging just being with me these days. I really enjoy my own company and I feel like, alone isn't a bad thing at all. I've got friends and family that I love and who love me right back. Would a relationship with a man really be more worthwhile than that? Does the lack of being involved with someone make all my other relationships insignificant? Hells no!

So check it out, y'all: this is me saying that I loves ya, and even though my head is down right now while I'm plowing my row, you're still in my heart every day, and you matter to me a lot, even though I don't tell you so as often as I should. I'm blessed with understanding and faithful family and friends and I'm so grateful for you.

I can dig it.

Because I can...

Well here's a fun and new thing I've tapped into: being really direct with my students. Telling them like it is (in my mind, without editing it for delivery or basically coddling them)! And you know what I've learned? People are a lot more resilient than I give them credit for. Being honest is awesome, when you know (and the other person knows-because there's a relationship!) that you say what you do out of love, and that it's nothing personal, but all about working towards that shared goal. To quote Liz: "Sweetheart, stop wasting my time." Man, when people are playing it safe, they know it, and on one level, deep down, you want to be called on it.
What a revelation. Thank you Liz!

So, whatchu got to say to me? I'm listening...If I can dish it out, I can surely take it.

She Works Hard For the Money

I don't know why it just dawned on me today that I'm currently working four jobs and am taking a graduate level course this semester. I have 60 students in five different classes, not counting my private clients.
The h*ll was I thinking?

But seriously, my teaching and artistic resumés are starting to look pretty awesome if I do say myself. I'm supporting myself (decently) through my art for the first time in my life!

Guess WHAT? Now you don't have to be a member of Blogger to post on my site! YEAH!
So holla back at me, OKAY!

My New Favourite Word...

is knackered. That's me. It's the only word I can find to express the extent of my fatigue, and still be able to laugh at it.

Here Comes the Rain Again...

Whoa. There is some serious rain going on here in New Jersey. Everything is flooding. It's just re-doggone-diculous.

Love Poetry Jam

Was cool. I didn't win the contest (would have liked the money, I can't deny) but the most important things were that:

1. I finally wrote some original poetry again after 10 years (got scared and intimidated, the more time passed between pieces, the suckier I feared I was)
2. I finally performed some spoken word in front of an audience after 10 years (same story as above)
3. I got to say something that was true and honest about how I'm living, and what I feel about love, and my experience of it, which was somewhat cathartic in that I needed to process what had gone down
4. People enjoyed and appreciated both my content and my delivery.

Of course, I didn't particularly enjoy my delivery, I was absolutely petrified, my knees were shaking, I felt naked in front of all those people and was on the verge of nervous collapse after having bared my soul and my pain to a room of 150 people. I went outside and cried for ten minutes, nearly threw up, but ten minutes later nearly passed out on the way home, and then ate a huge bowl of black bean soup, two protein bars, six slices of toast, a bagel with cheese and a bacon cheesburger. I don't like feeling rejected and worthless and fearful of the future: will anyone get to really know me and love me? Then how come no man has yet? Am I really such an emotionally poisonous person? Would I be doing the world a public service if I stayed single and refused to procreate? Actually, has any man ever really seen who I am?

Why do I care or want or need a man to love me that way? Why can't love for myself be sufficient? I don't want to have a big, gaping sinkhole in my heart and expect someone else to fill it. No one else can fill it. I need to start with loving myself (for the right reasons) and reinforce it with my faith.

I also need to do my homework and correct some student journals and memorize my lines for Thursday and learn two songs for rehearsal tonight (which I may very well back out of) and...never mind, the list is too daunting. I'd better get on that right away then. Right after I go to the bathroom, of course. And maybe get a bite to eat. (Hmm, could be the beginnings of yet another Procrastination Extravaganza!)

Oh, and if y'all want to hear me sing with the Funk Defenders again, check us out at 1221 Crescent Street this Thursday at 11. That is all.

Life is like a bowl of oatmeal...

You see, I used to hate oatmeal. I thought it looked nasty, smelled nasty, tasted nasty, and had a nasty texture in my mouth. Granted, my early exposure to oatmeal was the overcooked hot cereal, served with white sugar and milk, which inevitably got cold and gluey and more vomit-inducing, making the transition with every passing second from wallpaper paste until it cooled, congealed and hardened into something you could use to hammer nails into your walls.

More than once, brave souls tried to open me up to all of the wonderful ways in which oatmeal could be served, but after a few mouthfuls, the gag reflex would kick in and years would pass before I tried again. Oh, I love me some oatmeal in baking: oatmeal cookies, oatmeal bread, date squares, or other cereal forms of oatmeal: oatmeal crunch cereal and granola, and...ohhh, I'm hungry again.

But I digress. As I learn about nutrition, healthy eating, weight loss, and weight training, I can no longer escape the benefits of the soluble fiber that is found in hot oatmeal. Darn it. I came to the point where I had no choice but to learn to like it, if I wanted to make progress with my health and whatnot. And thus began the painful first week of learning how to cook it to the consistency and texture that I could manage to choke the mess down. Then I learned to find how on earth I would flavour and disguise that lumpiness so that I could stand the taste. Let me tell you, the initial efforts didn't look much like oatmeal.

But I've begun to get the hang of it, get used to it, and even begin to like it! I eat it every day! I don't even mind eating it cold! I'll eat it with fruit and topped with yogurt, but lately, just a bit of cinnamon and stevia and boom! I'm good to go. It's actually kind of...I admit it, comforting to eat.

I'm noticing in my life, there are things and situations like oatmeal. Not very palatable or pleasurable at first, but necessary, even good for me, and shouldn't be avoided. But with time and acclimatization, I learn to like, even love and crave it. Just goes to show you, you can get used to anything.

Pathetic Maudlin Sadness

Also known as Plentiful Memory Slips, Persistant Mental Sleepiness, Pretty Massive Seat, and a host of other monikers (any suggestions?) has been camped outside my door for the past week and a half. I couldn't figure out what was with the pity party and general lack of motion as of late. But ah, then I had the happy recollection that Aunt Flo will be dropping by any day now, and she always chases all that away like the Pesky Misery Salesman it is. Granted, she's not the tidiest of houseguests, and her visits are like banging your head against a brick wall (feels good when it stops), but hey, after all these years, she's like family, and well, I've gotten used to her.

So hey, Gang! Don't despair, because once Aunt Flo leaves, well, I'll be back in the saddle again and my usual cheerful self. Big bisous for all of you!

Pummeling my brain...

Must...stay awake...can't...stay in bed all day eating chips and chocolate and gummy bears and peanut M&Ms and sour skittles, and...oh, dear. Not being able to really work out on a regular basis over the past two weeks (1st week, mad busy, 2nd week, sick as heck) is taking its toll. I feel slow and sluggish and lazy and am gaining weight and I don't want to work. Except that I love my work! I just don't feel like doing it. And to be perfectly honest, today I wish I had a boy toy to make me feel beautiful again. It sucks to have been rejected. I want my mom!

Right. No more whining. Must focus on class plans, respond to student journals, get my administrative stuff out of the way--YEEEARRGH! Okay, now no more whining.

You know what else I'm looking forward to? Payday. Should I actually go all the way down to the office to pick up my check? Hm. I won't decide now, but the chances are actually pretty slim that I'll do anything of the kind. I'd probably just go and buy some of the abovementioned junk food, and that won't be helpful. (But it shore would be tasty! Mmm...guacamole, pizza, doritos, chocolate, cheese, sugar...*drool!*) Although I could get useful stuff for the house like garbage bags and dishwashing detergent and pay some rent sooner rather than later. Nice how I can justify my junk food jones, isn't it? "But I neeeeed to pick up some stuff for the house, too!"

I haven't gotten any messages on my old phone line in two weeks. This is odd. Are you people phoning me at all? Is it that you don't have my cell phone number yet? I suppose it's time to sit down for an hour or so and call everyone I know again. *sigh* the last time I did that, it was a happy occasion--telling everyone my husband's and my new phone number. Well, I'm living with a new Steph this time, and it's a happy occasion, but I can't help but feel a sense of loss, in spite of how happy I am with the new direction my life is taking. Nothing ever does turn out the way we planned, does it? Sometimes it's a good thing, and other times it's bittersweet.

Anyway, now I've gotten maudlin and it's time to stop avoiding my work. Happy trails, Beautiful People! Show somebody some love today!

Stupid Busy

Sorry I haven't written lately, for the short version of the story, see the heading above. For a slightly longer version, read on...

So now I've been living with Stephanie for a week and it's swell! She's so easy to get along with and we enjoy many of the same things...she's very easy to be around. So I'm presently working at four different jobs right now, not counting singing gigs and a class at Concordia (reminds me of the Headleys on In Living Color: Meh got fahteen jeeyabs, mon. Him 'a have just two jeeyab? The lazy limabean! heh heh...)

And I'm still unpacking. Would you believe, I haven't yet dealt with my tax declaration yet? (If you know me well, I guess it wouldn't come as a huge shock.) I miss my mother terribly and would love to see her, but there is just no time to get away for more than a day. Phew. But you know what? I'm still grateful for my life! It's good to work and do what I enjoy most for a living. A few weeks ago I visited a former colleague at the office where I used to work, and I seriously left that place with mild palpitations and the beginnings of hives. So no, I don't miss the place, and I'm glad I stuck to my guns and toughed it out in my field. It's finally beginning to pay off. (Not pay particularly well yet, hence the multiple job situation, but it's a start.) I'm hoping to hear back from the Saidye Bronfman Centre to see if I'll pick up a teaching gig there on Sundays. That would be the BOMB.

Okay, I've avoided my homework for long enough. I don't often get access to a computer anymore, so I'd better make the most of it. Bisous to every last one of you, be healthy, be safe, and show somebody some love today!
Cheers!

Incidentally

The grief over the move was dispelled pretty quickly actually, as soon as I saw my gorgeous new apartment! Yee-HAW! And well, I got a rousing early morning Brown Special first thing in the morning on moving day, which also helped. You may be asking yourself, what is an early morning Brown Special? Ah. You'll have to sleep over at my folks house to find out...

A New Page

So the Festival Rhythmes du Monde is past, and I've finally (after putting it off for ages) finished my packing. I feel a nagging sense of grief, actually. Yes, I'm excited about the future, about moving in with Stephanie, but at the same time, I feel the apprehension of leaving behind my security net. Because whatever else these past ten months at my Dad's house has been, it's been a soft place to fall. Rent-free, yo. Holla!

But in all seriousness, through the rottenest time of my adult life, I've had my family rally around me, and champion my cause. They have comforted me, and given me so much space (which is a big deal for a family as close as mine) to just be alone, to sit and hurt, but most of all, to heal. Dad and Brigitte have been the bomb. Never a hint of any variation on the theme: it's time for you to get the heck out of here, you freeloader. They accepted me where I was at, not on the condition of me getting to where they knew I ought to be (and was eventually capable of being). Love does cover over all sins.

Now, I must truly be a grown up again, and begin to take care of myself, through good times and bad, and there will be no more hiding from the world. It's a good thing, I know, and I've been wanting it for awhile now, but nevertheless, it's still hard to let go. Maybe if my little bro woke me up in the morning blasting some crunk music for old times sake, that would tip me out of the nest with no regrets...

The Message

I've had it for a week now (a paraphrase of the Bible in contemporary language) and I've got to say, I'm loving it! For the first time in awhile, I'm eager to be reading the Bible every day again! It's such an interesting and engaging read, I just can't put it down. Wicked.

A Retrospective...

In the midst of mad busyness, and the beginnings of feeling overwhelmed to the point that I want to play hooky from all the work I'm supposed to be doing, I wanted to just let a little steam out of the pressure cooker and stop a moment to take stock of all that's happened since I first began this little chronicle:

In April, I had been living in my parents' basement for 4 months. Domestic drama, and we'll say no more about that. I only ever got out of bed to go to Concordia and teach some acting classes. This was the one thing that motivated me to not slowly kill myself with grilled cheese sandwiches and bacon double cheeseburgers (but what a way to go!) I had stopped sleeping at nights, was crying at weird random moments throughout the day, every Sunday at church, and had what Alan my psychologist kindly dubbed "dark thoughts" (which I prefer infinitely more than "she prays to be hit by a shuttlebus, the crazy broad") etc. etc. blah blah blah, poor me. I put on all the weight I had lost the previous summer, and 15 pounds extra to boot. Which put me over 185 lbs. Okay, yes, I can say it now. I was ugly AND miserable. Oh, and also, not gainfully employed.

Today:
I'm teaching again at Concordia (not yet started my Master's degree, but it's in the works) also teaching at BTW, singing in a couple of bands (incidentally, my up and coming gigs are September 11th at the Rhythmes du Monde Festival with Shar(on) Brooks, and September 17th at 1221 Crescent-beside Brutopia, once again, with the Funk Defenders), got a two-week contract with Concordia Student Services (a foot in the door, baby!) and will begin my first professional theatre gig in January! I'm writing poetry again, and will be performing in the Black Theatre Workshop Love Poetry Jam on Sunday October 2nd at the Green Room, 5390 St. Laurent, corner of Viateur at 7pm. Let me tell you, things are not the same anymore. I'm not the same. Sure, my personal life tanked, but on the positive side, I've decided to stop waiting for someone to love me and to want me. I'm going to love me and want me.

I've been so afraid to take the leap and try to make a living in my field, but now, it's actually beginning to take off! I'm not making crazy amounts of money, but I'm actually getting by! I just may even keep on getting by. Who knows, one day, I may do well! I think that once I began to open up my life to the possibilities, then life opened up to me. And the possibilities and opportunities are endless! I'm going to move in with my girl Stephanie in a week! I can actually afford it now! I actually have a cell phone! And business cards! And a web site! I'm really beginning to be a grown up! Well, I'm going to keep working at it, anyway.

And, I've lost 35 pounds. I'm presently at 150 lbs, and in the best shape of my adult life. I don't recognize me sometimes. I'm sure I look vain, because I keep checking reflective surfaces to make sure it's really me. I didn't look like this last year when I was (then) the thinnest I had ever been in my adult life. I look even better than I did then! Because I have muscle! I eat better! My skin is clearer! I have washboard abs! Who knew? Working out and dieting have been great ways for me to vent my frustration, anger and grief. I'm not entirely sure of another way I'm presently able to process these things in a way that won't have me doing unhealthy things to myself.

So now, in order to stay off the path of self-destructive behaviour that I know so well and almost always drift back to sooner or later, I find myself needing to find new fitness goals, goals that aren't based on appearance. It's an elusive goal when I think about it, and the motivation is hollow. Look good? What for? Doesn't change anything fundamentally important about me, and anyway who cares? And why should I care about the people for whom that kind of thing matters? Sure, appearance helps me to have more work and feel a little more confident, but that won't keep me motivated. And besides, when it's all about looks, when is it ever enough? How do you know when to stop? Couldn't our thighs always be a little thinner, our butts a little hgher, etc. etc. I don't want to start parcelling out my body into little segments. I want to be whole.

No, I think the thing that will keep me on track is to have new goals, not number goals. Although they're so tempting and quantifiable, you know? Whay not aim for a BMI or a fat percentage of 18%? It's still healthy, and at least it's not just about the scale. Well, I suppose that's one thing, but I think I've about had it with numbers the last two days. I've had a harder time sticking to my diet (got bored) and I think that's a sign that something needs to change. I have strength and stability goals for my back and my knees, but I don't know how to measure that kind of progress. I just do want to be as vulnerable to slips and shocks and falls and twists as I am now. I don't want my back to ache when I get out of a chair anymore. I think those are long-term goals that I'll always be reaching for and seeking to maintain.

I know! I'll dream of being able to jump rope for 15 minutes at a time. I'm telling you, as fit as I thought I was, I can't even do it for an entire minute. So that will be my new strength goal. If I lost more fat and got stronger and firmer in the meantime, cool. But for now, I need to stop working out for the sake of appearance, and start thinking about health and longevity, of flexibility and resilience.

And I need to keep on making career plans and steps forward. I can't run forever. I need to start moving toward my future and not be afraid that I'll fail at it, or that I won't have anything to offer. I mean, I felt that way about myself for years every time I thought about contacting BTW and looking for work in the past. Now I see that I have been wasting time with my insecurity and fear. Well, I can't let that stop me anymore, who knows how many awesome years I've missed when I could have been in the company of those cool people? Huh. No more of that. And I need to stop being a chicken about the UQAM application and stop feeling retarded just because it's all in French. I AM bilingual. I just need to trust that.

And start thinking about a nap. Shoot, it's Labour Day. Tomorrow will be nuts. I think I'll rest now. Thanks, as always, for being there. I now know y'all don't reply because you don't want to have to start a blog, and that's okay. Just as long as you find a way to let me know you're out there...if you're a close friend, you have my email. Drop me a line....

I got it!

Check it OUT y'all! I'm in a state. All giddy and whatnot. I'll tell you why: today, I got my first professional theatre gig! With Black Theatre Workshop! I've had a goofy grin on my face all evening...

So last weekend, I filled in for this actress while the cast was workshopping a new play called Blacks don't Bowl. I had a great time--what an intelligent group of people, and a whole lotta talent in the room. I was very sad when the weekend gig was up, but I figured, hey, at least now they know who I am, and they can decide for themselves whether or not they like my skills.

Turns out they do. A lot. Yeah, baby!

It just goes to show you, sometimes man, you can just never let up and never mess up, because there are limited opportunities for black anglophone actresses in this town and the minute you mess up, someone else will be right there to take your place. I'm not sure how I feel about that though. I don't think I could live my career always looking over my shoulder. Bag that. I'll be as professional as I can, do my best to always be growing and that's all I can do. Either they'll like me or they don't, they'll want me or they won't.

More Me!

Courtesy of lovely EvaBlue Designs, I've got a website! How about that! Next stop, cell phone and business cards. Initially, the website was to have something to link to while promoting the Festival Rhythmes du Monde, (check out the press release yippee!)but I'm totally going to start using it to advertise upcoming gigs and whatnot. So pretty soon, you'll always be able to know where I'll be next! How about that?

Whoo-hoo! Check me out:

So much has happened!

Went to Atlantic City...it was a god gig, I was proud of me. Ate super tasty sushi, and shopped. (I know, I know, but I've lost weight and a lot of my show clothes don't fit me anymore)

I also got to see Elvis Story for free, because they were playing at the same casino as us! Let me tell you, it was a wicked show. I never really liked Elvis, I kind of thought he was corny, and the rah-rah American patriotism, southern guy mentality is not appealing, you know? But let me tell you, if he was anything like the guy who impersonated him in the show, then Elvis must have been wicked sexy and now I understand why he's an icon.

Chris is friends with one of the guys in the show. It was amazing meeting them, like meeting your next-door neighbours by chance in a foreign country. Or long-lost cousins...anyway. Some truly great people, and I really liked them. I actually cried a little when it was time to leave. I really hope I get to see some of them again.
Since I didn't have a camera, I got them (cast and crew) to sign a souvenir scarf for me. Maybe one day it'll be worth hundreds...or thousands!

I also met two of the guys from the Four Tops in the hotel gym where I worked out everyday. Apparently the last original surviving member of the group, Levi Stubbs, is about to kick the bucket. Too many drugs and women in his past. Bummer.

Teaching at BTW Youthworks is awesome. I finally have gotten into my groove and settled into things. I feel like myself as a teacher again, which is good. I'm also excited at little side opportunities this job opens up for me as an actor. Here's hoping for future paying acting gigs that won't require me to be a hooker, a maid, or a criminal!

As of today, I have lost 30 pounds. I'm fired up, yo.

I can't wait to move in with Stephanie. So much I could say about that, but if you know me, then you'll probably know what I'd have written anyway.

I'm going to be the closing act of the Festival Rhythmes du Monde on September 11 in a big outdoor concert, Sunday, September 11, at 5pm in the Place du Canada. I have the website somewhere, I'll add it later. Lots of publicity up and coming for yours truly. The question is, am I ready for it?

I need to stop avoiding: my psychologist, doing my filing and other grown up things likr budget, calling back all the family and friends that 've been neglecting, getting my act together on a spiritual level.

I can't wait to get my hands on the most recent demo I did with the Funk Defenders. Let's hope it will scare us up some decent paying gigs...Yeesh, I'd settle at the very least for not sounding like a complete loser on the cotton pickin' thing.

I'm about to turn down a contract as a singer in Asia. I'm committed to BTW every weekend from now until next May. I'm going to be commmitted to Concordia from now until next April. Sadly, it's not the most financially lucrative commmitment, although it is faithful to who I want to be and where I'm going. It's just that at this rate, if things don't pick up, it's going to take a long time for me to get there. Darn it, an Asian gig would be the easy way out of debt which would have been nice, to be sure. Maybe one day in the future, the time will be right and I'll actually be able to experience it, because I'd really like to, just once.

Je me sens un peu vidée...

I have discovered hydrotherapy. Yes. Some also call it colonic irrigation.
I actually went to see the very same Lucie from the article below. (oh, and it's from the Mirror, so if profanity offends you, don't read it)
Spring Fitness
There's so much that could be said about it in general, my experience with it and all, but no one needs more jokes about the colon at this hour of the morning, so I think I'll just leave it at:
whoa.

Yeah, boyeeee!

I. Got. The. Job.

Go, me!

The rain doesn't get me down today because...

I had my second interview with Black Theatre Workshop for the position of Lead Artist in their YouthWorks program. I find out on Monday if I've gotten the job.

I weighed in this morning only 13 pounds away from my goal! That's a 22 pound loss so far, kiddies! Can it possibly last? Who can say? But I'm hanging in there, hanging in there. Thanks for all the encouragement (which somehow never actually makes it onto the comments page on the site, but anyway) it means a lot to me. Happily, this time around, I've not encountered the passive-agressive or backhanded-type compliments: oh, but you looked better before! Oh, you should stop now, you're too skinny! Yeah, maybe if I was built like Nicole Kidman, but let's face it, honeys: that just ain't never gonna happen. Not with the Awang thighs. Heh heh, but that's okay, I'm growing to love my thunder thighs. Kind of makes me sound like a comic book heroine: look, up in the sky! It's a grizzly, it's a kangaroo, no, it's ThunderThighs! Strong enough to crush SUV's, enough friction to start a campfire, gentle enough to roll the finest Cuban cigars. (Okay, now I'm just being silly.)

Erm...

I actually don't have anything significant or entertaining to say today, except: MAN! Is it ever hot today! I'm melting, melting!

Whatta weekend!

Let me tell you, Friday night was something else, waiting in Chapters for the release of HBP. Oy. But I've finally gotten my book, and finished it. Heh heh...I'm fired up. It was neat to see how the things I anticipated played out, which events were complete surprises, how characters developed and changed...in short, it was nearly impossible to put down and I enjoyed it thoroughly. I'm not yet sad about waiting for the next book, but I figure I'm going to begin to get impatient for the final installment roughly a year from now. In the meantime, I'm just going to read and reread the series and marvel at how that woman can craft a story with care.

So the Funk Defenders show has come and gone, and it was actually quite fun! First of all, I didn't have to pile on a lot of makeup, wear sparkly stuff or high heels, and do girly girl choreography. Yeah baby, I wore running shoes! I refused to sidestep! I changed it up! I danced if I felt like it, the way I wanted to. And it was a nice change. Thanks to all of y'all who checked out the show!

Half-Blood Prince spoilers...Get your HBP spoilers right here!

I'm sitting here, kind of cheesed off because my one-stop shop for discussion of all things Harry Potter just got shut down because of some goofy people posting spoilers. not that spoilers bother me, I'm a big girl, and it wouldn't spoil the experience for me. To tell the truth, I'm going a little stir crazy waiting for the book to arrive chez nous on Saturday, so I'm devouring every editorial and half-baked theory out there on the net to tide me over. I actually began looking for spoilers. What's the big deal?
I mean, look at the great Greek tragedies. Right off the bat, from the very beginning, the choragos tells you what's going to happen in the play. But it doesn't spoil it for people, and they don't all go off home in a huff because the surprise is ruined. No, they stick around because the truly interesting thing is how it all unfolds. That's what makes a great storyteller, in my opinion.
Er, got any spoilers? Come on, give! (Oh oh, I'm starting to sound like a junkie...don't hate!)

In case you were curious...

Every time I began to fall asleep, my brother would wake up yelling about leg cramps. No, really. And once he was truly awake in earnest (which was of course just as I had finally fallen asleep) he started in with the rap music. I was too irritated to sleep anymore by that point and decided to get on with my morning. This afternoon, I couldn't take it anymore and came home for a brief nap, and...well, *sigh*. Let's just say I feel that instead of the stop sign on my back, there must be a cosmic "kick me" sign because I feel like the butt of a sophmoric prank in a lame sitcom.

It never fails...

How it never takes days, it takes weeks, even months to regulate a sleep cycle. Case in point: recent late night gigs, although beneficial to my wallet (when I eventually get paid in the not too distant future, come on, Money! Momma's got her Visa bill to pay!) have completely thrown off my desired sleeping pattern. Up until two weeks ago, I managed to consistently get to sleep by midnight after months of gigging until three, and now it's all over. Again. If I miss that brief window of opportunity somewhere around 11pm, fuhgeddaboudit, I'm up and wired until at least 4 am. Never mind that I wake up early, forego afternoon naps and stumble around all day in a stupor, a danger to myself and others. And if I manage to forget to put in earplugs, which inevitably happens whenever I want to sleep in, then for sure, my brothers will wake me up early in the morning with blaring rap music. And it happens every single time. You think I'd learn by now.

Anyway, here I am at 4:15, after another excruciatingly long day with little sleep, and everything points to tomorrow being another such day. Maybe I should tape a stop sign to my back in case I stumble out into traffic. Although, knowing Montreal drivers, it's probably no insurance. The best I can hope for is the patented Montreal "rolling stop" right on over me.

Hey! If I'm talking stupidness, that must mean that I'm tired! Maybe I have another window of opportunity to get some sleep. Hm. I'ma get on that and hope that when I close my eyes this time I'll fall asleep.

Sweet dreams!

One more thing!

Come check me out this Saturday, July 16th with The Funk Defenders at Brutopia! I figure 10 pm is as good a time to show up as any...Brutopia is easy to find, being right downtown on Crescent Street. The address is 1219 Crescent which is between Ste. Catherine and Rene Levesque. You can always call at (514) 393-9277.
For more information, you can check out the website:
http://www.brutopia.net/main/index.html
Show some love!

Said I wasn't gonna talk about it...

But I couldn't keep it to myself! Happy news darlings!
Not even my little brother ranting incessantly in the background can dim the bright shining of my latest little victory!
Hmm. Maybe I shouldn't wind y'all up so much: the news may be anticlimactic.
What's more, I think I'm setting myself up to appear really quite frivolous and shallow.

But well, if you know me, you know that it's not so. Through persistence, healthy habits and discipline (within reason), in spite of bouts of sadness and mild depression, discouragement and setbacks, I have managed to lose 18 pounds so far. I'm now past the halfway mark of losing all the weight I put on over the winter, and I've done it without starving myself, making myself throw up (and the other nasty mean things I used to do to myself) and without hating on my body image (very much).

It makes me think, how funny we women can be sometimes. Because now I've come to a crucial point in the process where I usually lose momentum and sabotage myself. If I'm not careful, I'll do something to punish myself for feeling good, for acheiving something.

Before you start thinking I'm a head case, ask yourself this: how often do you put other priorities ahead of taking care of yourselves? How often do you put yourself "at the bottom of the pile" (to quote my friend Eric) but for all the wrong reasons? I truly admire self-sacrifice and humility, particularly when there is a greater need than your own (all you mothers out there, much respect!), out of reverence for your spiritual beliefs or for the good of another human being. But sometimes we do these things not out of love for others, but out of self-hatred.

Which leads me to remind myself to be vigilant and take care of my spirit. To know that diminishing myself out of self-loathing or to make others feel better about themselves doesn't serve the world at all. I too, have as much right to (or as little, depending on how you look at it) health as anyone else. And while I have the resources and the opportunity to do so, I'll take advantage of it. My back and my knees have begun to thank me already!

Wishing you a hapy and healthy day,
T-Bone

I admit it...

I am a Harry Potter geek, I have written editorials on fansites and I'm waiting for my book to be shipped to me on Saturday. A very sensible friend of mine said: but no post comes on Saturdays. Well.

Never mind, I'm going to blithely ignore that bit of common sense. Hey, the Dursleys got their post on that fateful Sunday, didn't they?
(I know you're quietly judging me, but I'm frankly beyond caring, because one way or another, I'll have the Half-Blood Prince to keep me warm. At least for a weekend.)

Oh, and Kay was saying that she wanted to see a picture of me with a sunburn. Well, happily there were no pictures taken since I stupidly crisped myself in my mom's backyard last Monday, and absolutely none since the wretched thing has begun to peel, but I can show you the last decent(in a manner of speaking) pic of moi before the whole sorry business went down.

Chez Brian, with Fabian, Mom and Lianne. And Brian's pit bull, Chaka. Wasn't sure if she was waiting for me to play with her or looking for which part of me to start eating first. Apparently, my parents weren't so sure either. In the end, she wanted to play, but my regret about my wardrobe choice displaying potential meal items on the menu to a pit bull returned in full force once I saw the picture. Ai-yai-yai! The thunderthighs! Oh well. The Awang women have always had big legs. Whatcha gonna do?

The Honeymoon Capital of the World...

So I'm back from Niagara Falls, the watering place of swarms of khaki-clad Canadian honeymooners, harried middle-aged parents trailing sticky kids hopped up on overpriced ice cream from Denny's and exhausted from the overpriced activities available in town. But mostly everyone, Americans and Canadians alike are converging at the casino (luckily? for me) , while overhead, this dude with helmet hair and a blue sequined jumpsuit walks a tightrope above your head from the top of the Hilton to the top of the casino. And all the while an Elton John impersonator on the street sings Candle in the Wind, Can You Feel the Love Tonight and Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me. In a loop. For four hours a day. Everyday. Never at the same time, though. Only when you decide that you want to take a nap. Seriously, you can't make stuff like this up.

And now the aformentioned sunburn has darkened into a burnt toffee colour.
Update: And now the sunburn is peeling off despite my best efforts and my chest looks like a speckled bass. No pictures, please.

The day that we arrived (Thursday) the security people were all over us in the band, going through our bags before we went to dinner and whatnot. Yes, the good people over at the Fallsview Casino are a little gung-ho about security (they never fail to card me. Every. Single. Time. Though any sensible person, even one blinded in one eye could never possibly mistake me for a seventeen year old), but this went beyond the usual mindless adherence to policy and reeked of distinct overtones of fear.

"Well this is only because of what happened today in London."
"London? What happened? We were in the car driving all day to get here."
Sigh.
That night, as we performed, my throat was so tight I could hardly sing, and not because of stage fright while I watched the crowds drinking and partying in up on the dance floor at our feet. These are times when I feel like what I do is really frivolous.

A Cure for What Ails Ya...

Chunky Monkey. (Ah...That's better!)

Okay, hanging out with Mom is pretty darn awesome too. Who says you can never go back home again?

Whimper...

Okay, Tamara has a sunburn.
Owee.

Happy Birthday Brian!

Today was my brother's 25th birthday. Happy birthday, Brian!
Here's a pic (hope it works):



I remember 25...it was a mixed bag of blessings. On the one hand, I hit a major landmark in my life. On the other hand, I almost died that year from a brand new nut allergy that popped up out of nowhere. Oh, and then, there was the back injury and the missed year of work. The surgery totally didn't work either.

But then again, I got to spend almost a year away from the office recovering (read: watching movies, playing video games and eating lots of molasses cookies and drinking vanilla soymilk with Eileen) which was also one of the best years of my life, because I learned to really enjoy my own company. To this day, I'm still my favourite person to hang out with.

That was also the year of my very first real boyfriend. We eventually got married, and although in the end, things haven't worked out, I wouldn't trade those years because I've learned a lot and have grown a lot too. Of course, it's all a fairly new phenomenon, so I'm probably still in shock and denial and haven't truly begun to grieve or get mad about it, but at least just once, somewhere, I can look back to a time where I was grateful instead of bitter.

Stranger in a strange land

Ah yes, my lovelies...I'm back in Atlantic City, and not much has changed here. The roach motel still reminds me of Calcutta, and there's nowhere you can walk without getting hooted at. Ah, the US of A. Nevertheless, I'm fired up because I've managed to find a salad that isn't salty and deep-fried.

Of course, I'm kicking myself because in spite of my stupidly heavy suitcase, I've managed to forget my bathing suit, workout shorts and one of my outfits for the show. And my toothbrush. Guess that means I'll have to go shopping. I know, I know, oh the humanity....

Sigh...

You know what a diet is, don't you? It's DIE with a t on it.

Aw yeah...

It's a Saturday, it's a Saturday!
The house smells like chocolate because Brigitte's in the midst of baking a wedding cake.
It's looks like it's going to be a good day. Oodles of potential. Ladies, can you feel me?

Giddyup!

I'm feelin' good y'all. It's hot and sunny, I just got paid, and I've lost 13 pounds so far.
Here's to the little victories!

BOOYAH!

Back in da house!
Hello darlings! Mummy's missed you! Finally, computer problems are fixed and I'm back to give you the skinny about...something worthwhile...just give me a second though to think about what that could possibly be...

Er...

Wow. You know it's not good when you've been offline for two weeks and have nothing to say about it. Scary. You joke about having no life and then--

Hold it, hold it, it's all coming back to me now. Maybe I've gone daft since I began watching my diet and working out daily. All that time in the sauna has obviously softened my head. Ah, but it's a necessary evil, darlings. Casinos and agents can be quite mean about extra junk in the trunk when you're a singer, and let's face it, if you're in the know about the other drama in my life (that does not get discussed here on the blog), then you know I just really don't need anyone to be mean to me right about now.

Nevertheless, all this discipline and whatnot has started to spread into other areas of my life. You know how it is, one little victory sparks another, and another...or eventually tempts the proverbial piano to drop down out of the heavens onto your head. I suppose it all depends on your perspective, doesn't it?