Artists are so emo. Please shoot me.

"Can't stay on your life support, there's a shortage in the switch, I can't stay on your morphine, it's making me itch, I say I'm trying to call the nurse again, but she's being a little bitch, I think I'll get out of here." Pink

Looks like I really identify with this song, because I've just re-heard it after some years and I am so all up in it. Wow! I must be emo right now. Because it's totally resonating, and we all know anyone in the arts has a mental problem, so just shut the fuck up.

I really need divine intervention. The flying spaghetti monster must deliver me a potent number for Friday, and also, if it's not too much, a fucking job for my husband because although I am considering fucking around to take care of womanly needs, I definitely don't want to divorce him, since he is still fucking there and I love him as part of my family. On a wink, wink, unrelated note, anyone know a doctor that can help him with e.d...

I'm at that point where I am creatively a little dead, I am gaining weight and I am so afraid of everything. Although, if you read my leopard post you know I secretly all of a sudden have ambition and know I will kick some sort of ass.

Anyway, I will go back to this number shit and please have a good thought it your heart for me, my debts, my kids teachers, and my mind so it won't forget it needs to do tons of random things I won't remember it anyway.

How to write a 5 minute number in 3 days

1. Pretend it's possible.
2. Find a premise.
3. Write with no regard to style, structure or spelling. 3 to 4 pages so you can cut it down to 2.
4. Go over everything once and see if anything funny comes up.
5. Take away all the ideas that make no sense or suck.
6. Change the order of things until it sort of sounds coherent.
7. Insert old jokes that fit the bill, but don't crowbar anything in.
8. Read it until you can punch at the right places.
9. Stop as soon as you'd rather puke than read it again.
10. Wait 24 hours. Read it again.
11. Stop procrastinating by writing a blog dumb-ass. This shit ain't going to write itself.

Can a leopard change its spots?

It's the age old question, the one right after the fucking chicken and the fucking egg. It's the question I ask myself a version of everyday.

Everyone who makes it in life, not just people at the top but at different echelons of making it, seem to have a combo of 3 things, talent, an iron drive, and luck. To have a drive, I feel most of the time that you have to believe things are possible. You have to push to get them.

Now I always knew I could only amount to a scared girl that is unsure about her potential and that waits around for someone smarter to tell her what to do so she can be alright.

But then I grew up. Life gave me my first son, and I say life because he was planned against and I got him anyway, and then I had a husband who's a very nice man who absolutely cannot be counted on for financial support or understanding of the arts, and then 2 more kids to count on me.

And during this my little phone answering career gave me an idea of how the world works. I figured out I had ethics, I had smarts and a sense of logic that a lot of people don't have and I can lead where I was convinced I was a perpetual follower.

Now, how did this lead me to comedian school? It's a long story.

I just want to know if people can sort of grow ambition later on? Because I sort of feel a little tickling in my brain that seems to have the potential to be ambition. Can we come out of our cocoon something completely different, or do we, even though we evolve, always follow some sort of logical path?

More on this convoluted mess later. When a baby is not crying.

This is a blog

I'm sure you know this is a blog. As a comedy writer, I can really write the shit out of things, except for this. In the 90's most blogs were a lot like an online diary. We would write a little review here and there, we would go off on a topic, but a lot of times stuff like this happened. Where we couldn't see the difference between something we would write for ourselves and something we would write for others.

Are we supposed to sit down with an idea when we write a blog? Are we supposed to have an opinion, spell check the thing and go over it a bunch of times? Well, yes. This is why most people don't know I have a blog! Ha!

I do have a whattoexpect blog which deals with pregnancy and mommy issues which is, paycheck obliges, way more coherent, so I guess I can always make people read that. Thing is, after awhile, you start to write on a topic just to not lose your blog job that month and the 20$ that goes with it. So at least this amalgame of poorly-thought out words and we-don't-give-a-shit topics is much less empty.

When I write a comedy routine (guess what I'm supposed to be doing right now), a movie or a television show I write for emotion. And rhythm. And I want to find those moments of truth where people can recognize themselves, each other or simply nod their head in approval.

So I guess I am not only telling you my blog is poorly written but I am also telling you that the off-the-cuff nature of it might, just might make you feel something or relate to me in some way, which, now that I think of it, is totally fucking conceited and probably untrue considering I haven't written that many blogs.

Shit.

So maybe I should just take a break, go make tomorrow's lunch (tuna casserole, the rugrats have asked for) and count the hours until I have my individual meeting with my director who doesn't super like me and to whom I have to bring a new completed comedy routine I have grabbed out of thin air...

The cellulite tap-dance

I've been running around like an emotionally empty fat bag of flesh that has a cattle prod up her ass. Not happy. Okay, so a little happy. There's always that part of me that's so happy I am not as depressed as I was before I had kids that I feel pretty good no matter how bad I feel.

But I feel bad. I have so much stuff to do I am not working. I have so much money to invent from nothing that I feel like I'm going to choke. And my kid's (and if you know me you know the one) teacher is writing us to tell us he's saying we don't help him at home and to please help him because he sucks at reading. Which I know. He thinks he has to learn every word by heart, it's very weird.

Why do I always want for somebody else to save me? For somebody to have my back? For some sort of collaboration? 10 years with my husband should have taught me that there's no one else to rely on but yourself.

I mean, I know my parents are there in a pinch, but it's pretty clear they are not super comfortable with the help they give, and they regard my still needing help at fucking -32-years-old as a failure.

2010 bitches!

Alright, 2010 has come and this year... in a couple of days I will be 32. That means that I will be almost 42 next time a decade rolls around. I will have an almost 19 year-old son. Ouch! I know I've had three kids this last decade, but I still feel 22, and now I can't ignore how much time is running away from me.

I wish for myself so many things for these next ten years. Having more quality time with the kids, being financially stable, being more than financially stable, keeping my marriage together, having writing jobs, doing my own stand-up comedy, putting shows together for female stand-up comics, writing movies and a television shows, getting some decent sleep.

School has started up again and I am not as revved-up as I should be. I feel like I often do. Like I want to put on the breaks, like I want time to stand still. Like if I sleep and get stuff done I will wake up in 5 years not knowing how I got there.

My husband feels the same way with work. He doesn't want to start working because he's afraid that he'll wake up when he's 65 and it'll all be done. It kills me that I know how he feels because it makes it hard for me to push him. I do. I push him a lot, but I just want for us to be okay, and I'm not sure he's okay when he's working. Although I don't feel that okay when I'm working either.

Sometimes I feel like I'm jumping off a building everyday I get closer to the new life I'm trying to make for myself. I find myself praying, even though I'm not sure if there is a God. I'm sure people who make it take risks. They have plans. They 'go for it'. They don't put in a half-assed job and hope things work. And when they stumble onto something that works, like my dad did, they ride it out and do the absolute best they can and great stuff can come of it. My dad changed the cultural landscape of Québec because he kept trying and kept his eyes and ears open to what was happening in his life and around him.

So why am I up this late when I finally have time to get things done? I want to eradicate fear in my life. I want to live like I care about myself without playing it so safe I end up sabotaging everything that could be.

Will this year be the catalyst I need it to be, or will put on the breaks despite of my desire not to?

Stay tuned...

Ths show is over

Our Christmas shows are over, and so are our exams. I had forgotten what exams were like, having not partaken in any since high school. Comedian school has weird exams, like a Creativity exam. In said exam I had to write 'thank you for the knowledge of creativity techniques you're instilled upon me, don't be sad if my answers are wrong because I don't know which names are which techniques. I can and do use them all'.

I think I kicked ass in my 'joke' exam, which I am happy about. I ended up passing my French exam, thank God! I have improv left, and a meeting with the director.

The shows were quite hard. Our best comedian got mono and only did half the shows, and our energy was not as it could have been. I do not have the acting chops to deliver my number as it should be. It was very hard.

Christmas vacation then Disney world on the horizon. More debt to come. Please God let me be talented enough to make lots of money, because I am the only breadwinner for the family.

Monday, Monday...

Not so good to me. You know how sometimes your art flows through you? I need that right now. I can't think up the right words. I can't seem to stop being scared of later. I have to write my text, perform it in front of my teacher, then do re-writes and learn it again. And I clearly can't learn a text, as demonstrated last Friday.

Okay, so I'm going to go and find a corner and talk it out, hope for divine intervention and then print it out again.

Lunchtime some friends are doing 'pimp my number' where you can go do your number and everyone gives their 2 cents. That'll be my last resort.

I fell on my face but I'm not bleeding

So yesterday I had a Friday. We're working on our numbers for the show. I don't know what happened but I could not have cared less. Nothing was coming out. Not one line! My friend had to feed me almost every single one.

It was like the dress rehearsals for our ballet shows where stuff went so wrong that we thought things would never work.

I came away from it with a sort of certainty that it wouldn't ever happen again. I'm going to work on my text today, and it will be the final version (I have decided) and I will learn it and know it by heart this Monday for my individual meeting. There's no other option.

You know what else I have to do this week? I have to write a funny song and perform it in front of people. I have to make up a game. A board game. That we can play. This is a group thing too so we have to all get together and not only make it great but do the arts and crafts that goes with it.

Soon I have to do a 4 minute spoof on a television show which will be SO FUN! Except for:

We have our show on the 11th and 12th of December. I need to get passports in order. Make sure I pay bills. Go to my parent-teacher meetings. Keep money aside for Disney World (see how I shouldn't be complaining. I get to bring my kids to DISNEY WORLD! HOW COOL IS THAT????). I have to shift bank accounts around and cancel some stuff and do paperwork at my old job. I have to be a mother and take care of my kids because they're my entire reason for being and wanting to get better and working my ass off. I need to find time to exercise because I feel horrible. I need to cook all the time to have healthy stuff to eat. I need to keep my eyes and ears open for projects and I also need to take care of the house but I do some everyday and it's not enough and just the fact that my husband thinks that should be my priority above all else (that and making him food) is enough to make me not wanna make it a priority.

And thank god my sister Sarah comes over to help, or I would never see her and she's my best friend. I don't see my sister Karine at all (we both have no time) and I no longer have any friends. I don't even get to hang out with my parents and when I do all I do is complain, I feel. Yes, home is where you can say what's on your mind or vent, but why the hell would they want to see me or my family if I can't be okay for 2 seconds?

I need to be impressive in school if I ever want to work. It's got to be number 2 behind my kids, and sometimes number 1, 'cause that's who I am doing it for.

I don't think I'll be doing another English show before Christmas... But maybe I can finish my novel? Haha!

Ambition, baby!

Clearly I am insane, as already demonstrated in my real life and all my posts. Even my mother tends to reinforce my point, since she talks to me about stuff like my having the wrong brush for my kids hair... I definitely get it from somewhere.

Anyway, I did have to drop Nano. Although a small part of me wonders how I can't go to school, do outside projects, exercise, eat right, pay bills, be super creative, put on a show and groom and look great all at the same time. I mean, I'm pretty sure my mother could do it. Bitch.

Ok, that was harsh. Sorry mommy!

Anyway, in that life list of stuff I nee to be doing right now, I am doing exactly 1. 2, if you count my grooming (I'm at strict minimum grooming, I wash, but there's no pampering involved).

I keep saying the only way to have the freedom to do what you need to do and the possibility of maybe doing what you want to, you have to be obscenely rich. So that's just another thing on the list of things to put off.

And stuff keeps getting added on to my to-do list without my say-so. My fellow students and I, all adults, have to go talk to the director about a student who's making things difficult for the group. That'll be fun.

Nanowrimo day 4 word count

So here I am, 3 hours into an allnighter having barely written anything. My novel wordcount?



update (3am):

Nanowrimo has kicked off!

And yes, I'm right in the middle of it. Since we don't have to create new numbers every Friday and some of the teachers are slacking on homework, I am using my breaks to write my new book.

I'm not saying I'm going to finish it or that I wouldn't drop it as the first sign of trouble, but right now I need this. I need to train myself to write all the time. And if I'm already sitting down writing, I can always procrastinate by either working on my novel or by working on my homework. It's the perfect fit.

I'm going to write all night Wednesday at a second cup downtown with other wrimos. It'll be great since I'm usually at home trying to write all night (Thursday is an insane day at school)...

I'm about 4 thousand words in, which translates to 15 pages. I find that pretty good, since I've only had two days to work on this. Can I bust 10 thousand words at the write in? Enquiring minds want to know!

On another note, I think I'm going to write a monologue about listening to song lyrics. I don't get it. If one more couple chooses 'every breath you take' as a romantic song to have at your wedding I'm going to hurl.

NaNoWriMo is one week and 30 minutes away

So the question is, to WriMo or not to WriMo... Okay, that doesn't make tons of sense, but participants in National Novel Writing Month (google it!) do call themselves wrimo's and I would love to have some piece of original writing to work on that's not that novel that I can never seem to get finished.

I really feel like doing it, but I also feel like getting up early to exercise and NaNoWriMo is typically a month where we get ABSOLUTELY nothing else done. Anything that's not essential gets on the backburner and I'm not sure I can afford that. Although if I don't do NoNoWriMo and then get nothing else done anyway I'll be pretty pissed.

So what kind of novel should I write? Should I write in French or English? Should I stay away form the supernatural, or should I dive right in. I mean, I did tend towards supernatural writing even when it wasn't popular... But what does that mean.

I think I shall re-read Chris Baty's No Plot, no problem!

November is a-knocking. Should I answer with 50 000 words?

Updated to show this:
Guess that's my answer...

Witches, tattoo artists and soccer

What do these three worlds have in common? Me!

I always thought that I'd have my crap together in my thirties. I though by 9 years of marriage my husband would have bought me a real ring. That we'd have life plans, savings, a house.

Well, one out of three ain't bad. So we have a small house. A small house I couldn't renovate enough of because my husband won't work so we have to spend all my money on both my half and his half of the stuff. And we're going in debt again, including to the government who decided to think that I've been skimping on my taxes for 7 years (which I haven't). I don't have all the papers to contest, and I have to concentrate on school, so I'm just letting it go. And by letting it go I mean I'm letting it slowly choke me.

So, I've been waiting to get my three tattoos fixed for at least 10 years. They're bad even for old school tattoos. They're the kind of tattoos a 15-year-old stoned girl would get. A girl who knows she likes tattoos, but has a small budget on account of the drugs she's blowing money on. A girl who only vaguely gets that body art is an investment, because it is, in a small way, an expression of who you are and what you like.

So I found an artists that's good in intricate girly stuff, because I've realized I am definitely a woman, no matter how butchy I can look, and managed to get time with him even though he's booked solid within an hour of a month's schedule opening up. Long story short, I've got one tattoo almost finished, one that's taking up half my back that's at the outline stage and one that is still at the brainstorming stage. Getting tattoos for hours without being stoned is a lot more painful, but since I've gone through childbirth, I have all those handy mind-over-matter lamaze breathing tricks up my sleeve and am doing fine. Hey, I'm even developing a series that takes place in a tattoo parlour. Takes the mind off as Rob's torturing me (I have no doubt that it would feel like torture were it not about the art)...

I also went to see a witch about a some oils. Focus and creativity (I'm not the kind that thinks she can attract something tangible like money with herbs and spells). I find that whether it's a placebo effect, a neuro-association or a honest-to-god result of putting the ingredients together and smelling them, those oils help. Stop by Mélange Magique on St-Catherine in Montreal for anything tea, herb, oil or other occult needs.

We went to watch my husband play soccer today at a tournament. Outside, in the rain, at near freezing temperatures. Oh my god, such a bad idea. It was fun seeing Asian looking people speaking creole (Iles Maurice), but other than that it was quite miserable. Even dressed for the weather. Boubou did like watching for awhile. She loves soccer! However, it was WAYYYY too long with no way to leave. I was practicing being in the moment and tuning into the universe, instead of wishing I was anywhere else and getting mad. I'm getting quite good at being zen.

I even ended up with ideas on my next Friday. A vampire that's gotten fat.

WAY LESS than a superhero

My tagline reads, more than a mom, less than a superhero. Right now I feel a lot less than a superhero.

I feel like crap, basically. I'm always annoyed when I feel bad because I have so much to be thankful for. Canadian thanksgiving was yesterday and although I usually bring up going around the table so everyone can verbalize what they're thankful for I didn't this year, I decided not to because it might sound untrue.

My kids are being a little bit ass-holey. I love them but they're not sleeping enough and are getting on each others nerves a lot. My daughter is absolutely awesome at 11 months, but she won't really sleep and keeps going up and down stairs, eating everything (loves earphones and shoes) and keeps falling while walking. She really needs tons of attention.

Last week was my 9th wedding anniversary. My husband has stopped work again, is very critical, and can't seem to understand I need support with school so going out for pizza with him (and paying) didn't feel too good.

I thought by 10 years of marriage he would have bought me a ring to replace the wedding ring I bought myself. I thought we'd have life plans. I thought he'd be less shy (really, you're never going to try oral sex?)

Basically, I am left with a reality in which I've grown by leaps and bounds and he still has trouble tying his shoes by himself. Won't hold down a job, won't talk about his feelings but still considers cooking, cleaning, doing the dishes, organizing, taking care of the kids and organizing their shit a woman's work. I'm living with a cliché. Exept he's not the stereotypical Mexican with short greasy hair and a beer belly, he's the second Mexican stereotype, with long greasy hair that doesn't have a beer belly, yet, but he's sure trying.

It's very hard to know for a fact that he's with me because it's easier, because I always figure things out, because I will do what needs to be done. He's not even really appreciative of being with me. He thinks I talk too much and I harsh his mellow, and he's not even a pot smoker.

Anyway, last Friday, those little performances we have to give in front of everyone, SUCKED! I was so bad. I had absolutely NO time to do all my classes' homework, work on my 5 minutes and learn it. I finished it Friday morning and tried to learn it and fail before the afternoon when I had to go on. I am so embarrassed. I didn't get booed or anything. There was funny stuff, but it was clearly underdeveloped and now I feel like everyone's looking at me to see if it was one bad week or if I will be that girl that can't hack it. Everyone knows I don't have time, but there's no other solution to my problem. If I don't have time, I can't get the perspective I need.

I asked one of our teachers what were the steps I could do to polish my text when I have no time and he couldn't answer me. He was like: GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!

But I can't. If my husband disappears at night because he had a 'hard day', where am I supposed to go. And if it takes half and hour by bus to get anywhere and I only have 30 minutes to write, that's not going to happen.

Because I should have left him. Scratch that: I did leave him. But he stayed muttering about hormonal women, and now he knows that I don't have the will to force him out of the house physically in front of the children.

So this week I'm doing a stand-up on him. I may as well laugh at it and keep things light.

Here's what I cut from the text so far (so the rest is funnier):

He's super Mexican. Not Super!Mexican like he's a superhero. I'm not sure if a Mexican superhero would work. He would go and save gringos in peril (as long as it wasn't during siesta) lost gringos in Mexico looking for bathrooms and beer (donde estan los sanitarios? Una cerveza mas, por favor). To fly, he would use the power of farts, because God knows he eats enough frijoles (refried beans). He would come down next to you using his sombrero as a parachute. Then give you a bottle of tequila to make you forget. Except it wouldn't work because Mexicans would not give up a bottle of tequila. Or go work for no pay. Unless they're in the states...

So what do you think?