Somebody has been bent on hacking my Facebook account.Thankfully, many folks know me well enough to
know when a private message does not sound like me.People, if we are Facebook friends, please
report any messages that seem suspicious.You can check with me first if you are unsure.I don’t know if the hacker is looking for
money or to destroy my relationships.I
don’t understand the mindset, but I do hope the person finds something
constructive to do with his/her life and leave me the fuck alone.I don’t want to leave FB.As a comic and a poet and a friend, it’s been
helpful.
I’ve had three sightings of a mouse in my house.My buddy set two mousetraps for me after my
second sighting.When I saw it the third
time, it took the path of one of the traps.I expected to hear it snap.It
didn’t.The mouse must’ve leaped over
it.I noticed I was not as hysterical as
I’d been in the past.I guess I’m still
growing (and not just in width).
Those of you who enjoy Thanksgiving, have a good one.Those of you who don’t, it will soon be
behind us.
Then we can look forward to, December 17th, a
lovely night on City Island, after Hanukkah and a week before Christmas.Lots of seafood options there plus other
foods.Then at 8pm, come enjoy the
comedy show I’m having at The Artist, 249 City Island Avenue.You may BYOB.You can purchase light fare and delicious desserts while enjoying the
hilarious comics.Looking forward to
your laughter.
Thanksgiving Hanukkah My Birthday My Son's Birthday Christmas New Years sprinkled with birthdays of loved ones who have passed and anniversaries of the passing of loved ones --- enough! Enough I say. I wrote to reconnect with an aunt who then called me, and her tone of voice reminded me of why there had to be distance to begin with. Ugh.
One of the nice parts of my birthday was the break from winter weather. That felt like a gift. The best part of my birthday was my best friend. I am very grateful. We both chuckled at this.
Honestly, I have so much digging out to do still -- in many ways -- and I don't really have any readiness for all this. The only evidence of holiday in my apartment this year is a display of the cards I received and a couple of rolls of wrapping paper for my son's gifts. I am glad I have been able to cover my bills without borrowing money so far. My evening job stops for a few weeks, so while I welcome the time to do other things, I am on less income for the month. I am glad my son is doing some purposeful things with himself. My old and wonderful dog is hanging in there. In the fall, I was upgraded on my day job. Earlier in the year, another poet whose work I like a lot asked me to collaborate on a chapbook of poems set in the Bronx. There are very good things happening that matter to me. But in many ways, I still feel like I am dragging bricks inside. As a result, I'm not as far along in some areas as I expected to be (the apartment is a big example). End of year time and birthdays and holidays just seem to highlight all of that because of the expectations that come with those special times.
Along with all of it all, I truly enjoyed performing stand-up at the Grisly Pear on 12/19. One of the show's producers is someone whose warmth has from time to time made me want to treat him as my pillow. But he is not available for pillowing. He is married, and by that I mean he is a husband. By comparison, I realize I had been married to the anti-husband. The show was on a Thursday and wasn't as well attended as I'd have liked. A co-worker/friend came to the show. The audience that was there was attentive. The other comics were attentive as well. In that sense, it was a supportive atmosphere. Plus it was special because one of the original producers of the show, who left to live in California, was visiting and performing. It had been a while since I was in a show doing stand-up. It meant a lot to me to do well not only because my co-worker was there, but I wanted the man who booked me to not regret it. He makes me feel accepted and appreciated. That helps me relax in a way where I can make off the cuff comments from stage, and they work. I feel proud that I finally have a bit about teaching. And it went well.
I was the only female comic that evening. It was a decent bunch of people, and at no point did I have to say "Eeeeuuwww." I appreciated the gay comic, Nick Haby, who helped open things up by asking the audience who takes it up the ass. I love the courage -- both to take it up the ass and to ask the audience who among them does.
The day before the show, I had to remind myself that no one is making me do this. I do this because I want to. The day after the show, I felt the experience was confidence building. I knew I would continue with this. I wish I had measured each life step that accurately.
For my birthday, my best buddy offered to do whatever might make me feel good. We worked on a part of my apartment mess, I donated two bags of clothes and shoes to a nearby shelter for women and children, and I finally opened a package containing a coat I had ordered for myself but never took out of the package. I tried it on and was pleased. Forty-five minutes after my birthday was technically over, I received a birthday text from someone I love dearly. However, I didn't see it until the next day. Still good. It's quite complicated and involves my son, his dad, and a whole lotta stuff. Not for blogging... at least not under my real name.
The day after my birthday, I was part of Dance of the Word, an Evie Ivy production at the Cornelia Street Cafe.
Sunday, Dec 22 - 6:00PM DANCE OF THE WORD, HOLIDAY EVENT Alan Baxter, MC Evie Ivy; Austin Alexis; Gordon Gilbert; Mindy Matijasevic; Robert Gibbons; Peggy Fitzgerald; Fred Arcoleo; Hau C Le
Ringing in the HOLIDAY Fun! with special poetry, music, comedy, and dance Performances by: Evie Ivy, Austin Alexis Gordon Gilbert, Mindy Matijasevic Robert Gibbons, Peggy Fitzgerald Fred Arcoleo, with guitar and song & Hau C Le on classical guitar in a special dance number with Evie $15.00 includes a drink http://www.gander.tv/event/cornelia-street-cafe-dance-word-holiday-event-1222-6pm-8pm
It was fun. Fred Arcoleo involved the audience in music-making. He gave out all kinds of percussion instruments and rocked it. He teaches high school, so he is more than qualified to get some audience participation going. Robert Gibbons delivered his poem part speak/part song. I love when he does that. There were a number of performers, poets and otherwise. I was scheduled to read poetry. One that I shared is a sonnet I was once asked to write where each line was to be one syllable.
Women Do Tell
She
said
he
pled
for
some
more
from
'tween
her
mean
fur.
Got
hot!
(c) Mindy Matijasevic 1996,2013
Though I made my selection that morning, I thought that since it was a holiday show, I should have something holiday related. So not in the spirit this year, I had to start from there. This is what I read.
I am exhausted. I have weaned myself off of antidepressants, Abilify (to enhance the antidepressant), cigarettes, and, unwisely, Adderall. I am soooo in need of stimulants I just want to sleep December away.
Yes, I snuck a ciggie from my guy's pack. It's not helping. I just want to curl up and fall asleep in a warm ball of sheets and comforter and soft pillows I want to dream the holidays away. I don't have the scrap to buy presents, I don't have the green to do anything but pay my cheaper rent for my new room in Queens and eat cheap food. I don't so much feel sorry for myself as just plainweary and wondering as I wander the streets of New York, worrying about next month's bills. Ho ho ho.
I had to ask my dad for money. Do you know how much that SUCKS? To be my age, to have some stupid advanced degree that is basically useless, and to suckle at my dad's money teat because I STILL don't have security in my career(s) and am wondering how I will make it through the spring? You know what? I bet you do understand, because so many of us are experiencing this, especially over the past twelve years of hell. Utter hell. Financial hell. Health care hell. 401K hell.
I know this is supposed to be some comedy relief blog that makes you forget your troubles and larf through the shit you are wading through. But sometimes you just have to acknowledge your friends who are foreclosing on homes that they built and raised their four kids in, who work their tuches' off and yet still can't put their name on a rental lease because their credit rating is now fucked and they don't know how they will pay for braces and books and they are curled up in a ball in their beds and wondering when the dark clouds will pass. Will they pass? Will they?
I called the lady from whom I am renting a room - after living for years on my own, in my own sweet studio - and was ready with the sob stories to have her understand why I am late with my December rent. She stopped me mid-wail and said "Baby, it's been a shitty, shitty time, and the hurricane made it worse here. We are fabulous, gorgeous, smart women who've had a run of bad luck, and honey, it's going to get better. We are going to turn things around and take over the WORLD. Don't you fucking worry about being a little late with that goddamn rent. It will come when it comes, and I told the landlord that he'll have to wait for once, as I've never been late, because life has handed us some fucking bad shit lately and that is what it is. So take a deep breath, know that you are fabulous, and pay me when you have it."
Holy shitballs, who says stuff like that? To take my grey cloud and tell me it is passing and the sun is getting ready to shine again, soon, soon? My true and wonderful friends, that's who. My family, who sends me loving messages of hope when I am under my covers. My buddy Dan, who fights the demon darkness as I do, but lifts me up as he himself is struggling. My guy, who kisses my ankles and makes me smile and feel like a million bucks when I want to cry. My dear sweet friend Sarah, who faces fear with tenacity and grace and humor, though she wonders if going off her meds is the best or worst thing to do right now.
My god, I am so tired, so tired. But I will keep on keepin' on because that is the only thing we can do through all this. Roll up my sleeves, grin and fucking bear it. Augh. It takes every ounce of strength but what the hell is living for?
Just tell me it will get better. It will. Right?? You better believe it.
SPOILER ALERT: I REVEAL SOME CLIMACTIC SCENES FROM CLASSIC FILMS!
Maybe it's that I haven't had my Pristiq antidepressant for a few days, or I am possibly premenstrual (oh, I can never keep track, and my PMS always starts so early - like ten days before,) or perhaps it is because I always miss my family around the holidays, but I am welling up like that penguin in the Looney Tunes cartoon:
Or the Marc Antony with the kitty cat cartoon:
I am brought to tears by beautiful music lately (okay, just the past couple of days, in my hormonal/non-drugged state) and was standing outside my bar Monday when I heard a group of high school kids singing a choral piece (Samuel Barber's "Agnus Dei" from Adagio For Strings) as they walked to/from practice. I instantantly choked up. I mean, felt my throat close up and tears spring into my eyes so fast I was taken completely by surprise. Just listening to it as I post this has me overcome with emotion. Oh Lord.
Last night - watching To Kill a Mockingbird on TV - this scene wrecked me. And all she had to say was "Hey, Boo...."
Kills me. "Hey, Boo."
Around these holidays, the TV runs It's a Wonderful Life. I weep every time George's brother enters the room and toasts him:
If you haven't seen the movie, it's just about the most ironic and poignant statement about the life of George - he is broke, feels as if he's made nothing but bad decisions in his life, and he's trapped living in a small town when all he wanted was to travel the world - and he sacrificed his dreams to take over the family business and let his brother be the one to travel the world. But George is rich with friends and people he's been kind to his entire life. He is the richest man in town, as his whole community gathers to help him out of a bad bind. He is rich with love and friendship, the most valuable assets a man can possess. And most of us tend to forget that.
Charlie Chaplin understood this even earlier, as he showed in the scene from City Lights that brings a sob to my throat each and every time. He is the Little Tramp, but helped a blind woman to regain her sight by finding enough money to help her get an operation. She thought he was some rich man. And she only knows the feel of his hands, and has no idea he is a tramp, until he happens upon her as she is settled in her new life as a flower shop owner. He didn't even know that the operation had been successful, as he had been in jail for months, until:
You see?
I am a ball of snot and tears now, and my chest aches. I am a sap. Especially this week. I am filled with gratitude and auld lang syne and holiday homesickness. I miss my mom and dad and stepmom and brothers. I miss my hometown in Wisconsin. I miss my friends scattered far and wide in Arizona and Ohio and Alaska and New Jersey. I want to run out and buy presents for everyone and spend hours wrapping. I am so touched that my guy asked me to spend Thanksgiving with him and and his family that I fear I will cry as we start to say Grace: "BlessedOLord, andtheseThygiftsthatweareabouttoreceive..." and I am not religious.
I miss my Grandparents. I miss my Aunt Mickey and Uncle George and my cousins Jeffrey, Jill, and Jerry, who used sing this in four part harmony as their dinner prayer (this video is not my family, just a great example of singing the Doxology - I am weeping as I provide the link. Oh, tomorrow should be GOOD):
Twenty-five years ago, when I was twenty-one and living in Manhattan on my own, I spent Easter with a famous playwright, his actress wife, and their family in Massachusetts. We went to a little white church where the actresss' mother was a member, and they sang the sweetest version of Amazing Grace I had ever heard. I sat there in the pew, tears running down my face, feeling so confused by my non-religious brain and aching, homesick heart. Judy Collins sings it beautifully with the Harlem Boys Choir:
I have to stop sniffling now and get ready to head to Queens to see my guy. Tomorrow we drive to Connecticut, and I will hold it together, hopefully. I will think of all my loved ones far and wide, and count my blessings. I will laugh and hear stories and feel happy to be with a man I really admire and adore. I have a place to live, food to eat, and people who hold me up when I am low and feeling lost. I am the richest gal in town.
I will likely watch A Trip To Bountiful some time this holiday season, where the song "Softly and Tenderly Jesus is Calling" plays so heartbreakingly, and Geraldine Page slays me with her performance. I can't wait to see my family again, and have my mom sing You Are My Sunshine with me, and hear my dad sing "O Tannenbaum" in German.
As my mom would say: "I cry because I am happy." It's true.
-hmg
Count your nights by stars, not shadows; count your life with smiles, not tears. - Italian Proverb
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