2005-01-25 @ 10:05 p.m.
I remember when the Jim Carrey movie, "The Truman Show" first came out, I was totally fascinated with the whole concept. If you haven't seen it, its about a man who one day accidentally realizes that his whole life has really a giant movie being filmed and broadcast all over the world unbeknownst to him. And what's worst, all his "friends" are really actors acting parts and all the events that happening to him, are more or less, scripted. Even the weather is controlled by the megalomaniac film director, played by Ed Harris, who sits somewhere high above Truman's world directing every last detail, until one day when Jim discovers his life is really only a movie and wants to excape much to the chagrin of the director.
I'm fairly certain this is happening to me. Why? Because I frequently feel like my life is being directed by someone in a control booth. Only my movie is being directed by some independent film director, who wants everything to be real and for the main character (me) to be raw, so instead of creating the flat Ozzie and Harriet world that Truman lives in, my movie/life is more like a Charlie Kaufmann film (think Adaptation, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind or Being John Malkovich).
And the only reason I really know that my life is a movie, is that sometimes there will be theme music at the weirdest moments...just like you would hear in a movie. Like today. Well, today was a weird day. I mean not that weird, not like floating above the toilet weird, but rather my emotions were so erratic, that I didn't know what to expect from moment to moment...kinda like a Charlie Kaufman movie. I guess logically I can only blame it on PMS, since that nasty bitch is breathing down my neck at the moment, but for the most part I was so at the mercy of my emotions today, that I didn't know which end was up.
See, that's what happens when you let an independent film maker make your movie?
Yesterday had been a pretty mixed bag. I got my car fixed. It was less than it was quoted which was good, but it still basically wiped out my bank account which was not good.
I felt my now continuing frustration at work. I went in for our weekly TWO hour meeting and it was trimmed down to one hour since nobody had anything to say except my boss. She was irate that a local radio station had run a skit satirizing mental illness. I didn't hear it, but she wanted the DJ who did it, permanently yanked from the airwaves and she wanted all of us to go join her for a protest down at the radio station.
But to myself I was going...whoa. First of all, there is this little thing called Freedom of Speech and I'm rather fond of it, having been a former journalist. If you don't like something you see or hear, ya just throw it away or...turn it off. Simple as that!
And naturally the conversation drifted towards Howard Stern and how he degrades women. Has Meryl Streep ever taken off her shirt on his program? No. But have a bunch of porn stars and strippers, who do that for a living, ever done that? Sure. That's the whole premise of the show...Can a guy get a girl to take off her shirt if he asks her to. Well naturally, if they want to be on Howard Stern's nationally televised show. But I guess many people don't get the satirical premise of the show.
So no, I would never go protest at a radio station where somebody was satirizing mental illness. I mean, I satirize mental illness every day in my diary. I think mental illness is pretty damn rich with comedic opportunities. It doesn't mean I don't have compassion for the people who have it, because I do, its just, for god sakes, get over it. It only a joke.
After the meeting, I went out and had a bagel with Lady O and then went back to the office for my first bout of Tai Chi. How Totally Californian am I? I had heard about the free Tai Chi group from the Lesbian chick, which met at noon in our building, so I decided to check it out. Unfortunately, I had on about 4 layers of clothes and big clunky snow boots because it was only about zero out, so I shed several layers of clothing and foot apparel to achieve total Tai Chi-osity. Fortunately the Lesbian Chick didn't show up, so I didn't have to worry about her making moo-moo eyes at my lovely ass as I was doing the Wild Goose.
I muscled my way into our Women's group, so I could make some money, but it was pretty boring...well, except for me. I did most of the talking, yesterday, because I think I'm so lonely, that when I have a captive audience I just talk their ears off. I did have to wake up Lady O though, because she was sitting next to me snoring. I was totally astounded that anyone could fall asleep sitting upright at a table full of people. But she did. I always try to stay awake when I'm working, but that's just me.
The bus ride home had its usual sights, sounds and smells of the ghetto. A gaggle of 12 year old girls named KA-neesha and LaQuisha were congregated in the back of the bus screaming and shouting the word "fuck". Fuckety this, motherfucker that. fuckfuckfuck. About the only time they lowered their ever lovin' voices was when they were talking about their boi-frens sellin' crack on the Nor' Side.
Yes, I love the bus! Can I go get my car now? I did finally pick it up around six and presumably all the leaking pumps and tubie thingies were repaired.
But then here was where my life started turning into a Charlie Kaufman movie. Tuesday. Tuesday morning to be exact. I went to the bank to cash a small $10 check my mother had given me and who do I see standing two windows over? Conservative commentator Bill O'Reilly. I swear to god, it was him. It looked just like him and I got all flustered as I dug through my purse to find my checkbook and glasses. So I mentioned this to the teller....you know the one from Central Casting, and she looked over at him, as he was walking away and then back to me, and smiled knowingly and said, "He certainly does!"
Okay, personally I think she said it a little too brightly, like she was placating me, or overacting a little bit and that's what made me suspicious. You know, a'la The Truman Show.
My horoscope for Tuesday was certainly apropos for the day I see my shrink. It went something like this: "Emotional matters will surface. Don't avoid what must be taken care of today. You can't move forward unless you clear the mess that is dragging you down and holding you back."
So I saw the ever-enlightened and equally intriguing "A" this morning. I had thought we were going to do another role play this week, since we've done one the last two weeks in a row, but today was my choice. I was actually kind of gunning for blood, since I'm PMSing. Plus I had turned on the radio on the way over and...get this...actually listened to rock and roll music. Gasp. Can you imagine? I mean, usually I'm listening to my pansy ass George Gershwin music when I'm driving. But I decided not to do rockem' sockem' with "A". Instead it was True Confessions Day. I fessed up to some of my bad, if not illegal behavior from the past three weeks and was lectured about it. He's the only person who knows the true extent of it. I pretty much felt like the dirt under a flea's elbow. But I just tend to go out of control when I'm stressed out. I don't really have any safe way to cope with stuff and since I don't have any friends to talk to, I basically just act out. Yay me!
I told him how much I missed being touched (i.e., getting massaged by Married Guy) and how lonely I felt. He did tell me that he was going to be speaking at a Singles Group tonight and suggested I come. He might have possibly slipped something in there about remembering to wear underwear, since that was part of our discussion. I told him I would try to get there, but I felt discouraged because whenever I went to any of these events, I usually just end up looking at the ground and not speaking to anyone. He still gave me the address though and I said I would try.
I then headed for the gym for a little special time with the old treadmill. I'm still not very bright about setting the digital control panel, so that I know how many calories I'm burning, but today, while watching all the news channels discussing the Oscar nominations (Go Jamie Foxx!), I managed to burn about 140 calories in a 1/2 hour. Go me!
I did take a brief dip in the whirlpool afterwards, but some old dude, who was reminiscent of Zenshrink in a Speedo, got in and I get really freaked out. So I only lasted about 5 minutes in the water and then headed out for my dentist appointment.
Now, I am possibly the most on-time person on the planet. I am virtually never late, and more often than not, I m early. But today, due to some miscalculations and some incredibly slow drivers, I was 15 minutes late to the dentist. And guess what? I nearly lost the appointment I had waited four months to get. Well see, its a Medicaid Dentist. Ya gotta wait with all the other poor people to get your toofies looked at. And what was upsetting was, that last time I went to the dentist, I had just settled into the dentist seat when I got a full blown panic attack and had to cancel the appointment. I guess I didn't like hands and things being shoved in my mouth.
So today instead of the cleaning which I was really looking forward to getting, instead, I just had a few cardboard x-ray thingies shoved in my mouth and then a very young looking dentist came over to look into my mouth. And talk about a movie soundtrack hitting a right note. Here I am a 46 year old woman, and while I was waiting, the Simon and Garfunkle classic "Mrs. Robinson" starting playing on the radio nearby and suddenly this dentist who only looked about 22, came and stuck his instruments in my mouth.
Anyone else see the irony in that? Older woman, younger man? Of course, I was pretty much pouting by then. I didn't care about the frickin' x-rays, since I have really excellent teeth (I didn't have any cavities today, which really wasn't surprising. Have only had about 2 cavities in my whole life). I just wanted my teeth cleaned.
But Mr. Young Toofie Doctor did give me a big vote of confidence. He said, "You will need your teeth clean, but look at your x-rays! You must floss reallllly well!!"
Oh, baby, more than you know. I actually floss while I'm writing d'land entries most evenings. I multi-task, you know.
Finally the last event of the evening was "A"s speech at Single Night at a nationally know restaurant chain. I wasn't sure I was going to go, but I felt I had to make some form of retribution to "A" for all my bad deeds I had done in the last couple of weeks. So I got dressed up nicely. No slutty clothes. Had the panties on. Curled my hair. Put on make-up. Part of it was for me. I wanted to look nice going to some singles thing and part of it was to please "A" and make up for things from this morning.
So I get to the restaurant, which is actually where my mom and I eat fairly frequently and I was ushered into this back room. "A" wasn't there yet, but my heart sunk when I got there. I had in my head...a SINGLES GROUP...as in people my age and younger. Well, it looked more like when I go out with my mom and HER friends who are in their 60's and 70's. This group of people looked like they had just broken out of some hot Bingo Game down at the church. They were so perfectly cast. I think there was only one guy who was even possibly born in my decade, but he was a mouth breather. Argggh! All this beauty for nothing! I finally saw "A" come in and I had to change my seat, in order to see him talk, and as I walked by, I said, "Where are all the men?" since in a room with about 25 people there were only about 4-5 men, and most of them were in their 70s. He said he didn't know.
His speech was very entertaining and funny. He was in competition with a waiter who continued to serve throughout his speech. Natually "A" had to get in his licks about sex and about being in love with Angelina Jolie because she's so beautiful and crazy. I'm not even sure if this crew knew who Angelina Jolie was or even who her father was (Jon Voight). I think possibly the only thing this group of people might have in common might be that they all voted for George W. in November. And for that reason, as soon as "A" left to some solid applause, I soon followed suit. They did give me a brochure of their future activities, but unless they involve a run down a steep, icy luge or a naked painting class, I think I will pass for now.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty