I Am... A Channel. Tune In.

I have found myself starting blog posts and getting lost in what the heck my point was supposed to be and then not finishing them. Maybe also because a lot of the time, I'm writing this at work when I should be working or I am working and I get distracted by what I'm actually getting paid for. This small detail aside, I have thought several times in the past few months about shutting this blog down. I actually had a externally-tearful internal battle about it a little less than a month ago: staring down the behind-the-scenes interface like an ex-lover with whom I had a fat fucking dinosaur femur to pick. But here we are, still, and I'm still unsure I'm ready to deprive my three readers deeper insights into my psyche than my inevitable changeover to Twitter would provide. (By the way, I was on Twitter before all y'all - early 2007 when my friend Al introduced me to it. And then I deleted my account last summer, then re-joined as brashlionroars. And I've updated exactly 30 times in like 4 months. Over it.)

As per usual, I'm experiencing a lil' bit of an existential non-crisis and coming to love myself for the unfocused renaissance woman I am. Instead of beating myself with the question, "Why aren't you famous yet?" or "Why aren't you making money as a performer?", etc, etc, etc, I'm quieting down and enjoying each day as it comes. In reading the latest New Yorker, in an article about the late David Foster Wallace, the sentence about his perception that people with lower intelligence are happier, having the attitude of "one day at a time," jumped out at me. Because this is the attitude that I have been cultivating within the past few years: day by day, moment by moment. There is no future, there is no past. It is only right now. We are all waiting for Godot.

Now, I'm not as smart as some people and I'm a lot smarter than a lot more people, but I'm not going to debate the stupidity of someone that decides to relinquish a great deal of control and settle upon the fact that, hey, the past is gone. I did it, it's done, and all I can do is learn from my mistakes. And maybe I'll make the same mistakes over again. But one day - I'll get it right. And as for the future, it is unwritten. What I am living is the NOW and that is the only place wherein I can institute change.

That said, and since it's taken me over two hours to write this freakin' post (see beginning of post), I don't know how this will correlate, but I have been thinking and re-thinking a lot about what my destiny in life is. I have, for as long as I can remember, wanted to perform. I am good - no - fabulous at it. I have been blessed with a captivating stage presence. I don't think this is bragging; I have been told this by many, many people. And no one has ever had the balls to tell me I sucked, so either I surround myself with gutless scaredy-cats or I just don't suck. Even when "Super Glossy!" was lightly panned as an uninteresting script, each reviewer commented on my ability to sell it through a stunning performance.

I have tried many different paths to the stage, there has been something about every single path that hasn't totally clicked for me. I don't like the auditioning part of acting (and to be fair, I have never fully given it a shot; there is just so much fear around it for me that I have successfully talked myself into hating it), I don't like the memorization of good story-telling, and I don't like the pressure of coming up with new material that stand-up comedy demands (among many other things I hate about stand-up). However, with the radio show this weekend, something... just... clicked.

Now, I understand, I am a total amateur. And this makes me think of when my grandfather commended a youthful teen-aged me on my ability to move on to something new when something current wasn't working for me. I interpreted this to mean (I don't think my grandfather intended it like this) that I never let things ripen. I get discouraged and because I am lucky enough to have the talent to do a lot of different things, I just keep moving to the next thing that I think will hold me. The incoming of accolades and encouragement I have received from Sunday night's show (again, no one has had the balls to tell me I sucked, but would it matter anyway? I'm freaking high from what I believe I can do now) have me thinking that the life I've been meant to live is now right in front of me, if not shrouded by inexperience and the uncertainty of How.

I took the Myers' Briggs personality test a couple of weeks ago and discovered I am an ENFP. Now, one might take this to be a fancier kind of Zodiac, but it was all the sign I needed - I am the Inspirer. Ever since Mr. Moore's sociology class in high school when I drew what I wanted engraved on my tombstone, and I paraphrase, "An Influential Voice For All," I have known that I want to touch the hearts and minds of everyone I meet. Doing the show on Sunday rekindled my joy for listening to other people's endeavors and knowing that the world is a better place with their puzzle piece in it. And it made me realize that I just want to talk to people about how they're living their dreams and I want to do it in a public forum so that everyone can hear how simple it truly is. You just have to tune in, past all the stimuli we're inundated with; listen to your soul and jump.

So here I go. I discovered this past week (here's Providence working for you - BTW, my belief in a "higher power," has unexpectedly taken a handle on me... weird. 13-year-old Courtney would have not talked to me) that I have a couple of unrelated connections to the same local radio station. I have connections from the radio station I used to work at in San Diego. All of these people believe in my ability to do this. I believe in my ability to do this because it's just there. And - I get to do everything I'm good at: use my stage presence (which of course will be all vocal, but that's there), be funny off-the-cuff, talk to others, and inspire others. And go to work in a T-shirt and jeans.

This might be my new-fangled crazy idea, but I'm ready to go for it. Who's with me??

Stay tuned.

BAM.

I got it. My perfect apartment. I got it. I move in this weekend. Housewarming party to follow in a couple of weeks. Oh holy crap yes.

I deserve it, bitches.

Oh THAT'S what "being open to it" does.

Along with the theme of a feel-good Thursday night, I went to my $50 coaching session for my audition piece for the Unifieds out in fabulous BFE, otherwise known as Brooklyn Center (No! Sleep! Till Brooklyn! CENTER!) . Wary of acting coaches in the suburbs of the Midwest because I'm a brainwashed New York Theatre snob, I was convinced this woman - after conversing briefly on the phone and receiving via email a very elaborate instructional on how to get to her house and then wait outside in your car in the cold if you're early - was Crazy. Yesterday morning and the few days preceding were spent worrying off and on about how I wasn't going to connect with her and I would walk out after a minute of her insane Acting 101 bullshit. I finally decided to catch myself in these inane predictions and turn them around. I pictured her saying to me, "Wow, you're a wonderful actress!" and me beaming after performing the piece and the hour flying by because we're so involved in what we're doing. Driving out to her home in rush hour I visualized myself performing flawlessly and receiving the critique "I have no criticism for you." (*ahem* I would like to brag, if I may, that this happened to me in an acting class in college. We had the assignment of taking a song and making it a monologue, which is tricky to do if you know the song really well because the tendency is to recite it in the same cadence as the melody. I performed "Silent All These Years" and blew my professor away. *ahem*) Of course, this didn't happen, but what unfolded was an hour that truly reminded me why I love to perform. My coach reaffirmed my ability to act and take direction and upon finishing, she commended me on my great work. I left feeling energized and empowered. Then I went to the gas station and spent 20 minutes there waiting on the attendant to get his manager because the pump refused my card and also filling my car's various leaky orifices.

And on a completely different note, I have the worst under-the-surface zit right at the corner of my mouth. It's like a tumor or something. Oh man, I hope it's really not.