Crazy people are my favorite...sometimes

In an effort to flex my performance muscle, I've recently started taking an improv class. I had my first session (of 6) on Monday night, and I really enjoyed it.

I did some improv in high school--sort of by accident--and really loved it. But I've never really pursued it, or attempted to get better. Turns out, I'm still pretty good; but this class is giving me the basic training I need to get better--as well as the creative outlet that I'm desperately seeking. It's truly a perfect fit for me right now.

I was a little nervous to begin. What if I suck at this? What if the teacher is lame? What if it's not as fun as I remember? But I was surprised at how much came back to me--and how much I have to learn. The other beginners are great classmates: no one was hogging the stage; everyone was there to have a good time; it was a no pressure environment, etc.

In fact, things were going so well, I almost couldn't believe it.

And then Gina showed up.

We had 40 minutes left in the class. All of a sudden this 50-something woman comes barreling into the theatre.
"I'm sorry I'm late. I've taken this class three times, but I want to take it again. And then I couldn't find parking. I forgot how difficult it is to find parking downtown. I was circling and circling and circling. Can I sit in?"

Although I used punctuation above, this came out of her mouth in a single breath. She was about 5'3'' and of an average build. Her bobbed red hair framed her face neatly, but there was a depth of insanity that seemed to seep out of her. The class began to fidget almost immediately.

My teacher nervously broke the ice. "Yeah, it's fine. We end at 9, but why don't you come and introduce yourself."

She got on stage, and by then it was clear we were doomed.

The introduction was supposed to be your name, what you do for a living, and why you're taking the class. Basic stuff.

What we got was a diatribe so ridiculous, it's almost hard for me to believe that it happened. I've done my best to paraphrase below:

"Hello," she started. "My name is Gina. I work for the federal government. And let me tell you, it's the safest place to be right now. Not the state, not the local, but the federal. I've been there for almost a year now. Hooray! (Picture arms in the air.) About three months after I started, they asked me to role play in my job. And sometimes, I really lose myself in the part. I mean, it's fun to think on your feet and pretend to be a drug dealer or criminal. This one time I brought a cane into the confession room and just started to hit stuff. I mean, people were scared. I was scared. Sometimes things just come out, like, 'Hey, there's a donut!' or 'Get off me!' Of course I have dreams of becoming an actress. Everybody does. But there are times when I really don't know where I end and the role playing begins."

This kind of chatter continued for a full 3 minutes. We were all sort of mesmerized by what was going on. My mouth was agape during her monologue. How could it not be? This lady was on par with a verbal train wreck of epic proportions. Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, something even more insane would exit her mouth.

My teacher finally cut her off mid-sentence.

"OK. That's great, thanks for sharing," he said. I can only imagine what he must have been thinking.

"Yeah, that's the end," she said, walking back to her seat. (Which by some happy accident, was right next to mine.)

But that woman is a liar. It's not the end. When class was over, she marched right up to the instructor and paid in full for the class. I understand his position: theatres are hurting right now, and an extra person in a six-week class is a lot of money. But still, I'm very concerned about future sessions.

I really hope she's sick next week.

Freedom of Choice

Over the weekend, I was thinking a lot about the choices I've made thus far:

1. I'm married.
2. I live in San Diego.
3. I work with books.
4. I go to church.
5. I voted for and am a proud supporter of Obama.
6. Et cetera.

But, it occurred to me recently that a big reason why I've been so bitter and angry about the layoff that happened almost one year ago is because I feel like I wasn't given a choice. My thinking was very circular: "This happened to me; I had no control; I'm a victim of corporate greed--(blah blah blah)--therefore my life is worse for it."


However, I've had a few job opportunities come to light--none of which have worked out. But effectively, I can't help but feel like I'm choosing to stay where I am. And ironically, there's a lot of comfort and freedom in that. Knowing that there are opportunities available--not great opportunities, but opportunities nonetheless--is really encouraging. I guess you could say that as a result, I feel less trapped.

I still feel, though, that I'm at kind of a loss when it comes to figuring out what I want to do with the rest of my days. I've always wanted to be a mother--but I don't want to be one right now. I've always wanted to be an actress--but that seems entirely unreasonable, and I don't necessarily want to put my kids through it. It's sad, but, in terms of real life goals, I'm entirely confused about where to take my life next.

Last night some friends and I were talking about the fact that I have a tender heart. And that I willingly seem to enter into people's pain (or joy) on a profound level. In a word: I'm empathetic. If I'm honest with myself, I really love people and could talk about relationships until I'm blue in the face. But... what kind of career does this lend itself to? It's not like I can be a professional friend.

I guess I'm just going to have to sit with this for a little while.

Spring Cleaning: A good habit or a task with a seedy underbelly?

I have to confess, when it comes to cleaning, I'm relatively awful. My husband is patient and kind, and therefore, he can put up with me and my bad habits. But because I love him, and don't necessarily enjoy being messy, I'm trying to do a better job of keeping things tidy around the house. After all, cleanliness is next to Godliness, as the saying goes.

But when enforced cleaning is required by my workplace, I get more than a little offended. Even when pizza is promised as a "reward for our efforts."

The reason I'm concerned is because a forced cleaning frenzy can't be a good sign. We've had 3 rounds of layoffs in the last 8 months, and I have a feeling that the powers that be in our organization are beginning to wonder why our office needs so much space in southern California. Perhaps I've become cynical; but I'd like to think I'm simply operating with an increased sense of awareness.

If I had to conjure a guess, I'd say that this is the beginning of a bigger action. Either a.) they're thinking of moving us to a smaller, less expensive space or b.) they're planning on getting rid of us all together.

Recessions are my favorite.

Sigh.

I find myself in the midst of an existential crisis. There are many reasons for this; all of them professional.

1. I was laid off from a pretty good gig last summer. Not because of bad performance; because the office closed.
2. I'm not particularly thrilled with my current job--which was supposed to be a temporary fix to pay the bills until I found something better.
3. It's been 8 months and I haven't yet found something better.
4. I was passed over for a new job by someone who had more experience.
5. I'm overqualified for yet another new job that would like to reduce my salary by about 30%.

What the hell?

I mean, I understand we're in an economic crisis, but seriously? I'm well-educated. I'm personable. I'm smart. I'm a quick learner. I'm responsible. I'm generally pleasant to be around. Why am I having such a hard time finding something that's worth my time? Is that so much to ask?

In all honesty, all I want is a position that's worth it. As Americans, we spend more time with our job than we generally do with our spouse. And so, if I'm going to be spending a significant portion of my life somewhere, I'd like to find a place that's fulfilling or inspiring or... better than what I'm doing now, which is merely existing. But I don't want to do that. I want to thrive. Maybe that's just not how American employment works.

Still, I can't help but wonder if the American rat race is responsible for everything bad in the world. I'm not just being dramatic. Allow me to explain:

1. People feel entitled when they come home because they've just spent 8-10 hours at a job they hate. They don't want to be bothered with volunteering, or donating, or recycling, or caring for anyone outside of their family--so they get sucked into tabloids, and reality TV, and Fox News instead.
2. They develop cancer because their cantankerous work environments are literally toxic. There's never enough time to relax or take time away or exercise or take care of themselves because companies are laying off people left and right in order to stay competitive.
3. People get bored and so they do stupid things like flirt and/or have inappropriate relationships.
4. They get bitter and complain, which in turn, makes their friends and family bitter, too.
5. People don't spend enough time with their kids. Then their kids get it in their heads that it's OK to spend more time at work than with their families, and they perpetuate the unhealthy cycle.

OK. So maybe nobody is out starting a war because they're pissed off at their employer. But they've become apathetic to the wars and injustices that are currently taking place. Which, in my opinion, is almost worse. And another shade of the same thing.

It's so rare that I come across people who are actually excited and passionate about what they're doing--or feel that they're making a difference or contributing to the greater good. It makes me wonder if our forefathers came up against the same kind of opposition when they were trying to organize a revolt against European rule in search of a better life... Actually, probably not. Opposition means that someone actually needs to form an opinion and take a stand against something.

A more perfect union.

I wonder what they'd think if they saw us now.