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  1. Comedy Stuff

    Tuesday, June 21, 2016

    I heard a young male comic recently say, from the stage, that he did anal, yep he did that.  That was it.  Maybe, amongst his dudes, that alone is something to laugh at.  I was waiting for a punchline, but he just said it as an accomplishment, a credit of sorts.  I didn’t get how he should get credit, unless it was his ass. 

    I had a good time being part of the Real Bitches of Comedy show last Saturday.  The trains were trying, but the woman running the show was totally in the know about what was happening with the trains, so she was so cool about it.  Two of my students went and got there before me.  They bravely sat up front.  Another person with whom I have a mutual friend showed up.  It was the first time I met him in person.  He was the audience star of the show – Rudy.  He seemed totally comfortable being part of the show.  Nice.

    I don’t tend to make anyone feel sorry for sitting up front, but I couldn’t guarantee no one else would.  They were game.  My guests all sat up front and had a good time.

    Heather Apostolidis was great to work with.  She’s funny and kind and human.  I hope to work with her again.  Her almost-husband and his family were such good-vibes people.  I enjoyed them as an appreciative audience. 

    People came over to me later to compliment my set.  That felt great.  I felt uplifted and encouraged to continue on with my funny stuff. 

    Bonus: my students drove me home.  That was a totally unexpected cherry on the cake.  


  2. I recognize that Trump’s personality disorder is one that involves loving the fight more than the prize.  It’s not so different from parents who take pleasure in robbing the child of the other parent, fight for custody just to win, wins, and then has little skill or desire to build a happy person.  The fun is over, the fun of hurting everybody.  Now it’s just a path of destruction left behind.

    Well when Trump was called the presumptive nominee, he looked pale and frightened to me.  The part he liked was over – knocking out others in a junior high bully style.  Now he’d have to deliver something of substance.  But he only has the fight, not substance.

    So he creates conflict and manipulates others to act on his feelings.  In a family, children believe lies and become alienated from and hostile toward the actual loving parent.  In a country such as ours, race riots could become commonplace as he makes America something again.  We'd be in wars all over the globe.  All of it deflects the attention from the orchestrator.

    When Trump decided to complain about his unfair life and named the judge presiding over the Trump U case and the judge’s ethnic heritage, my first thought was he doesn’t want to be president.  It may not be conscious on his part, but this is how he will sabotage himself.  He doesn’t want the prize, only the winning. 

    I wonder how long his third marriage will last.  He can chase them and get them, but then he’s got nothing of substance to offer.
    He’s consistently narcissistic.  I’ll give him that. 

    On a hopeful note, on Sunday after the heavy rain became a light drizzle, I looked up and saw this which looked magnificent and colorful unlike the photo.  I know it is a great big sky, but seeing the rainbow above the buildings right across the street felt wonderfully personal.


  3. Brief Update

    Tuesday, May 31, 2016

    Slowly rising from Mother’s Day depression. 

    Will be auditioning at a comedy club in a few weeks.

    And since there’s a suspicion that part of my income might end in a month or two, getting passed at a comedy club for paid work would be good timing.

    For those of you who have been wanting to come out for some laughs and a generally good time, I'm pleased to announce that I’ll be at Silvana’s (116th Street and 8th Avenue, NYC) on June 18th at 7pm.  I’ll be performing on the Real Bitches of Comedy show.  


  4. Full of Rocks and Being Funny

    Tuesday, April 26, 2016

    Last week, my internet, cable tv, and phone services were temporarily suspended. I had written the start of a blog, but after the NY primaries, it was dated. I had moments on a computer at my day job, but to write anything, I like to be home.

    Being without the tv and internet wasn’t easy. I sleep with the tv on. I awoke when it went off. I’ve not lost perspective. I had a place to go home to, food, running water, hot water, electricity, good-enough health, freedom, and my jobs. Most importantly, my beloved son, my best friend, and I are alive and well, and for my son’s sake and my step-son’s sake, I’m also grateful their dad is alive and well enough.

    Being without those services felt a bit like fasting. I knew it would be temporary. It felt uncomfortable and even irritating. Like any other change, it opened up other things. I discovered videos that were in my Dropbox. I watched myself do a stand-up set in 2008. The audience was with me that night. I couldn’t even believe it. And I was braver than usual. I also made myself look at the videos of my canine child on his last day. It was okay. I had been afraid to look at pictures and videos of that day. Intellectually, I know it is better to not run from pain but to look at it. However, I haven’t been doing so courageously in recent months, so this was an opportunity to disrupt some of my habits. There’s definitely value in “fasting” and I can understand why most religions include a time for it in their practice.

    In case my ex doesn’t think I suffered enough over our son, the weight of grief is upon me every day. Every fuckin’ day.

    In spite of it all, I do stand-up. I know this site is called She So Funny, and I ain’t been funny in my blogs for a while. I will share this. In mid-June, late on a Wednesday night, I have an audition at Broadway Comedy Club.  If I “pass,” I become one of their paid comics they book.  So I better get fuckin’ funny. 

    Though I am grateful to be able to survive, I’d really love to not need 2 survival jobs, so I can get out there and do my thing!





  5. Still Hopeful, After All These Years

    Tuesday, April 12, 2016

    In spite of having a heavy heart, I registered for a comedy festival. 

    Announcements will be made by September 1st. I like me for moments like that where I don’t totally surrender to the unfortunate parts of my life or to depression but instead “keep hope alive.” I am as aware of my gifts as I am of my suffering.
    Adding to everything, the director of my main job is moving on; most of us are sad and worried.


    She is exceptional and rare. I even asked her if she has a friend she can recommend. It is going to be a trying time.
    No matter how long or short she was our director, she did real good, and I just hope some things stick even after she’s gone.

    The good part (I think) is she will still be involved in our program as she is promoted to head our parent organization. I just pray her new role fits her caring self. I’d hate to see the demands of the job force her to be something other than who she is (ya know how jobs can do).

    In terms of the country, there is hope on the horizon:

    The lone Bronx elected official supporting Mr. Sanders, Assemblyman Luis Sepulveda, said at the rally tonight that the Democratic machine had pressured him into endorsing the more moderate Ms. Clinton—and he had to say no, citing the devastation of the Iraq War. Bronx Councilman Ritchie Torres, who is officially neutral in the primary, also attended the rally.

    “Bernie is a man of integrity,” Mr. Sepulveda said. “Bernie is a man who’s gonna lead this revolution.”


    Sen. Bernie Sanders made his second campaign stop in the Bronx Saturday.


    As he has in other states, Mr. Sanders told the crowd that a high voter turnout would be critical for him. “Bring your friends and your family,” he said. “Let us make the world know that in this great state, New York is part of the political revolution.”
    Amanda Hooper, a 26-year-old waitress who lives in Brooklyn, said she was excited to see Mr. Sanders in her borough. She said she dropped out of college because she couldn’t afford tuition after her scholarship money was reduced as part of state budget cuts in Florida.
    Now, she’s hoping Mr. Sanders can help people like her afford school and said she felt confident that Mr. Sanders could win New York’s primary.
    “This is his turf. He’s from here,” Ms. Hooper said, adding that Mrs. Clinton might have worked on efforts in the borough but didn’t have the same connection as someone who grew up in Brooklyn.
    “That’s her turf, all those buildings over there,” Ms. Hooper said, pointing to Manhattan’s maze of skyscrapers. “Brooklyn, I think, is Bernie’s.”


    Mr. Sanders stopped to take photos with people as he walked into Nathan’s. “I love you Bernie,” a woman screamed to him. “I trust you.”



    My fuchsia flowers are still upright and looking wonderful. They are in a vase I once bought for my mother.

    The day after Good Friday/divorce anniversary was a year since my Luigi went to Heaven. Though that was a very hard event, it was surrounded by events that had made it harder. A scene followed outside the place. I haven’t really gotten through all the trauma of that day. I know by how I find it so hard to walk on the block of the vet’s office.
    Much of my life feels like PTSD. That was once thought to be unique to soldiers returning from war. It has now come to include those who suffered under emotional and/or other kinds of abuse for long periods of time. I was born into a war that didn’t cease for the arrival of a baby.

    My marriage was a different kind of war; in a way, more eerie.

    (I know in my comedy, I make it sound funny, but that comedy did not come for free; it was long-earned. Writing my stand-up material is part of my healing journey. Everything I make us laugh about is something I once cried and/or fumed about.)

    The ongoing heartbreak is how my son was not protected throughout the divorce war, the pain caused him, and my ex going to lows I hadn’t thought he would (out of human decency and parental love – BUT I was wrong). My mistake was not only believing in something that just was not there, but not believing in the evil that was.

    What an education.*

    I found it difficult, but I got through the week.

    Each day I felt surprised that the flowers are still doing so well.  It helped me on a level I am not ready to discuss publicly.




    *(Aramis, I wasn’t able to receive when you tried to tell me certain things about the existence of evil.)

  7. It Was My Fuchsia Anniversary

    Tuesday, March 29, 2016

    Though Good Friday does not land on the same day (or even the same month) each year, my divorce was on a Good Friday, so I consider it my anniversary. This year, my anniversary began waking up after a full night’s sleep. That still feels like a luxury to me. I opened an email I received from a woman who is part of a comedy group. She was responding to an inquiry from me. She thanked me for my communication and told me she’d have me on a comedy show in the summer. That was a really great way for me to have started my day.

    Then I had to meet a co-worker to give him some papers. He was coming to the front of my house which made it real easy on me. He also happens to be a pastor. Though I do not follow a religion (other than the Golden Rule) and he and I were not born into the same religion, I find him very comforting. I told him what Good Friday meant to me, and he laughed. I said, “I know that’s not what the religion had in mind.” Then he, in his way, connected it by saying it was the end of one thing to be followed by something better. He emphasized “better.” I said that just coming home to me is better since I’m a nice gal. I let him know that though I had no religious connection, hearing what he said did feel comforting.

    I was meeting with my best friend for breakfast and for doing some chores together for me. I am more challenged by some daily tasks than I used to be. I’m still in process of finding my way back to me. (When I speak to God, after safety and health for my son and me, I typically ask God to help my son find his way back to himself, his own heart, and reclaim his loving soul.)

    Before my buddy and I met, I wanted to accomplish something I had been neglecting (there are many choices, unfortunately). I turned one disaster area into a sparkling, good to the touch, once again usable area. That felt so lifting to my spirit. Then I did other stuff and got five bags of garbage out. Whew.

    My buddy and I enjoyed each other’s company as we typically do. We shared our current happenings. We find humor where we can when we can. I can’t be thankful enough for such a wonderful friendship. We managed to buy some stuff I needed, from a fly swatter to lightbulbs and all sorts of things like that. He did things for me in the apartment. He is such a brother to me.

    After we parted, I bought fuchsia flowers for myself. I also bought a bottle of wine.

    I managed to fill a couple of more bags of garbage. This time when I took it in the alley of my building, a rat ran by, I screamed, set the bags down on the ground, and scooted out of there.

    That evening I had plans with Debbie Bazza. We went to an open mic in New Rochelle. I met other people doing comedy which is always a good thing. Then Debbie and I went to one of my favorite places – the Starving Artists’ CafĂ© on City Island. She was planning to drive me to a point where instead of 3 buses, I’d only have to take 2 buses back home. However, after drinking some, I wanted to stay past the time she wanted to. So I was willing to take the 3 buses. But Debbie asked her friend to drop me where she would have. That was nice. I was good with that. But when it came time to leave, I was offered a ride all the way home by one of the musicians. I accepted.

    The ride home was comfortable. Conversation felt easy. Driving wasn’t frightening. I asked if I can contribute to gas costs. He said no. Then when we were already on my block, he asked me something that felt uncomfortable, over the line, and disappointing. My eyes must’ve bulged. He swore that it was a joke because in my comedy I mentioned a penis-free zone. I told him the zone was real. (It is those attitudes and comments and the hurt they cause that is part of why the zone exists.) He was laughing and apologizing. I really felt he was regretful because up until then, it felt nice. He even seemed like he’d be snuggly. When I got out of the car, he didn’t just zip away. He waited until I got inside. I wanted that to speak louder to me than his turn-off comment. I turned around and waved goodbye.

    I came home to me, my somewhat improved apartment, and my beautiful fuchsia flowers.