I've started dying my hair red.
I LIKE it! It's fun. And it gets streaky and kind of orange as the color wears out. And I kind of like that too. (Soon, my roots will show enough to become obnoxious and I'll dye it again. This is how Clairol owns just a little piece of me.)
I am about a week from coloring my hair. Even a little girl asked me today, "Do you dye your hair??". I'm in full on-streak. There is nothing natural about this color. And I kind of like that (I've spent my life with colors that occurs naturally. Eventually, I'll be all grey and silver and that will be that. But until then...)
Today, I had an audition. The woman I auditioned with was truly, smartly, subtly funny. Straight on, unforgivingly, quietly funny. (As a person who self-identifies as 'funny', when I meet someone like this who is new to me, there's always a little part of me singing, "Who are you? How come you're not doing A? Why haven't I seen you? Why aren't you desperate for attention like the rest of us?" Ah. Because she doesn't have to be. Well played.)
When we said our names to camera, we were asked to say 'something funny' (which is a, honestly, a terrible thing to ask of someone on the spot.)
I said something about the class I taught earlier that day and how little kids like the word booger.
She said, "This is my real hair color."
I giggled. Just cause.. you know.. hair color. W00t. Support. Ladies who don't color their hair. Alright.
And slowly, after the next hour, realized that I might have been the butt of her joke.
And felt dumb. As I'm incredibly slow to think of jokes in that fashion. (and am usually so overly sensitive to shit like that). I just don't tend to joke that way. I would never zip off of someone I just met.
A part of me could really care less.
While another part of me also wants to be, "HEY. I saw what you did there. Or.. maybe.. you didn't. Agh."
Am I taking it personally? Was it personal? Either way, she.. wins.
If I wasn't (which is where I'd prefer to place the moment in my brain), I need to get over myself, over the over-analysis and feminist theorizing (women throwing each other under the bus, bleah bleah), the making-me-right, and go back to feeling neutral about the whole thing. (The audition itself was just fine. Kind of fun. Got to eat food and not say memorized lines.)
If I was the butt of the joke, it was pretty subtle and smart zing. Just sort of terrible and perfect - - said straightly to the camera, to the casting director, to whoever is hiring for this job.
I'm not capable of that in the moment, nor would I necessarily want to be.
There's a million different ways to make yourself feel bad or stupid, and like anyone who has dipped their toe in obsessive or depressive waters, I'm really good at holding onto those and rehashing scenarios, things people have said, things people might say, all the unnecessary drama that a brain can barf out to keep one's self down or humble or hurt.
It's so admittedly dumb, that my brain can grab one sentence and hold that as what is shitty. See? Dumb.
So: if indeed, it was a slam on my orange hair, it was a well done slam. If it wasn't, I'm obviously taking this way too personal, recognize the pattern and am letting it go. (By writing many paragraphs on my self-indulgent blog.)
In the shittiest (and non-shittiest) of times, there are always more reasons to feel good than bad. And if that's not true, then something needs to change if possible. Right? Right.
Good things: I saw my friends Phyllis and Michelle today (both forces of nature and TRULY FUNNY LADIES. I want to grow up to be Phyllis and help her with her chickens.) I got to share a smile and a conversation with another lady I'd never actually talked to. Michelle also introduced me to a local legend and I got to shake this woman's hand. There are more reasons to feel good than shitty. Also, I'm breathing and that's pretty lucky.
And even if, later that day, you then set your alarm incorrectly and fall asleep (I never take naps!) and wake up in a shock, MISSING THE GAME SHOW you were supposed to perform in at 4 p.m.(who has six contestants today. They're fine without me. But.. AGH! STUPID! I was looking forward to that.) and this makes you feel REALLY STUPID...
There's still more reasons to feel good than shitty. Honest.
Onward.
I LIKE it! It's fun. And it gets streaky and kind of orange as the color wears out. And I kind of like that too. (Soon, my roots will show enough to become obnoxious and I'll dye it again. This is how Clairol owns just a little piece of me.)
I am about a week from coloring my hair. Even a little girl asked me today, "Do you dye your hair??". I'm in full on-streak. There is nothing natural about this color. And I kind of like that (I've spent my life with colors that occurs naturally. Eventually, I'll be all grey and silver and that will be that. But until then...)
Today, I had an audition. The woman I auditioned with was truly, smartly, subtly funny. Straight on, unforgivingly, quietly funny. (As a person who self-identifies as 'funny', when I meet someone like this who is new to me, there's always a little part of me singing, "Who are you? How come you're not doing A? Why haven't I seen you? Why aren't you desperate for attention like the rest of us?" Ah. Because she doesn't have to be. Well played.)
When we said our names to camera, we were asked to say 'something funny' (which is a, honestly, a terrible thing to ask of someone on the spot.)
I said something about the class I taught earlier that day and how little kids like the word booger.
She said, "This is my real hair color."
I giggled. Just cause.. you know.. hair color. W00t. Support. Ladies who don't color their hair. Alright.
And slowly, after the next hour, realized that I might have been the butt of her joke.
And felt dumb. As I'm incredibly slow to think of jokes in that fashion. (and am usually so overly sensitive to shit like that). I just don't tend to joke that way. I would never zip off of someone I just met.
A part of me could really care less.
While another part of me also wants to be, "HEY. I saw what you did there. Or.. maybe.. you didn't. Agh."
Am I taking it personally? Was it personal? Either way, she.. wins.
If I wasn't (which is where I'd prefer to place the moment in my brain), I need to get over myself, over the over-analysis and feminist theorizing (women throwing each other under the bus, bleah bleah), the making-me-right, and go back to feeling neutral about the whole thing. (The audition itself was just fine. Kind of fun. Got to eat food and not say memorized lines.)
If I was the butt of the joke, it was pretty subtle and smart zing. Just sort of terrible and perfect - - said straightly to the camera, to the casting director, to whoever is hiring for this job.
I'm not capable of that in the moment, nor would I necessarily want to be.
There's a million different ways to make yourself feel bad or stupid, and like anyone who has dipped their toe in obsessive or depressive waters, I'm really good at holding onto those and rehashing scenarios, things people have said, things people might say, all the unnecessary drama that a brain can barf out to keep one's self down or humble or hurt.
It's so admittedly dumb, that my brain can grab one sentence and hold that as what is shitty. See? Dumb.
So: if indeed, it was a slam on my orange hair, it was a well done slam. If it wasn't, I'm obviously taking this way too personal, recognize the pattern and am letting it go. (By writing many paragraphs on my self-indulgent blog.)
In the shittiest (and non-shittiest) of times, there are always more reasons to feel good than bad. And if that's not true, then something needs to change if possible. Right? Right.
Good things: I saw my friends Phyllis and Michelle today (both forces of nature and TRULY FUNNY LADIES. I want to grow up to be Phyllis and help her with her chickens.) I got to share a smile and a conversation with another lady I'd never actually talked to. Michelle also introduced me to a local legend and I got to shake this woman's hand. There are more reasons to feel good than shitty. Also, I'm breathing and that's pretty lucky.
And even if, later that day, you then set your alarm incorrectly and fall asleep (I never take naps!) and wake up in a shock, MISSING THE GAME SHOW you were supposed to perform in at 4 p.m.(who has six contestants today. They're fine without me. But.. AGH! STUPID! I was looking forward to that.) and this makes you feel REALLY STUPID...
There's still more reasons to feel good than shitty. Honest.
Onward.
