April E. Brucker's Blog, page 33

Half a Person (The Smiths)

I have always been super, duper shy in a way when it comes to dudes. There were the kids who were pretty kids. I wasn't one of them. You see, I struggled with my weight and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't look like the pretty popular girls. I had cystic acne, and had medication that made my face peel and lips bleed. Oh and then there were the braces with rubber bands that would have food caught in them. My mother also picked out my clothing, which made me super trendy.....NOT! On top of that, really wasn't allowed to date which was translated to April Brucker can't talk to boys which was translated to April Brucker munches rug. And this was outside of Pittsburgh, not New York. To say it was a tad homophobic would have been the understatement of the year.

Never really have been much of a dater. For the first part of high school I struggled with my weight. While I shed a few pounds for the second half, I was too busy. In between being at the cable access station, performing ventriloquism for senior, writing for the youth section of the local paper, the high school musical and literary magazine my schedule was packed. Then there were my Saturday acting and dance classes downtown, and bagging groceries at the supermarket when I wasn't there. Busy.

Plus I was more or less friends with guys. My brother Wendell played football, so I knew all those guys and their families. As a result, I was kind of grandfathered into a circle I would not ordinarily have been a part of, aka The Football Family as they call it. Not to mention I am wired more like a guy. So I would end up talking history and sports with these dudes, and then they would end up going to the dance with someone else. It didn't matter to me actually. I hated the idea of formals, wasting money on a stupid gown you were only going to wear once. I hated how everyone yelled, screamed, and cried over not having a date. Or then there was the drama with one dude was dating one girl and asked someone else. Actually, I was happy not to go.

When prom time came around, I didn't have a date. By that time, I knew I was going to New York and that's all I cared about. My mother on the other hand was a big dater back in the day. She went to an All girl's Catholic high school, and my uncle went to the all boys brother school. When it came to dances they would go with each others friends, etc. Before she met my dad, my mom also dated a lot of guys as well. So when I didn't have a prom date, my mother was losing her mind. It was my mom crying and freaking out as the encroaching deadline approached. Some kids had folders and had been planning prom since Christmas. I didn't care. The more I heard about it the less I wanted to go.

My mother, however, every time she met a random guy who seemed somewhat nice would say, "What do you think of Bob? Wouldn't he make a wonderful escort to the prom?" And then I would tell my mother I wasn't going. Fights would erupt, which hurt because my mom is a wonderful woman and we have always been very close.

Then my mom would say, "I am not going to be sitting at home when all those limos go by."

I told my mom I could go in a group of friends. To which my mom replied, "That's what fat girls do!"

I pointed out I was fat throughout middle and the first part of high school. "You aren't fat now!" My mom wailed. Still, it was one area where we didn't see eye to eye let alone relate.

I ended up getting a date at the last second. He was a friend of mine, and he ended up taking another friend of mine as well. We went in a group, it was fun. It wasn't anything to slit your wrists or cry about not going to though. So I did it, my mom was happy. We could be friends again. Plus my sister Skipper had a lot of guys asking her to formals. She and my mom could go dress shopping and giggle about that stuff.

Well as an adult I made up for lost time. Getting to college, well there were guys who weren't aware of my dork status. However it was a strange road map. I thought when one dude invited me to his room to watch TV that's what he really wanted, big mistake. Then there were some others I hung out with, but it never went anywhere. A part of me got a little depressed, but then a part of me was relieved. Of course, there was the trust fund dude who had a nice apartment who didn't want to be my boyfriend. But he got pissed when I talked to other dudes. I don't miss him. I miss his apartment, complete with wine bar and all. Plus he always had Groucho Marx cigars. Then I was allowed to drink, and alcohol allowed the shyness to melt away.

But then there was blacking out which always left me feeling like I took a ride in the Delorean and had to piece together the past and the future as I fumbled through the present. Jack Daniels also made me kiss a lot of trolls, and then I wondered how the hell I got under the draw bridge. And then when I met the former fiance, I thought I had arrived. Instead, it was a year long nightmare where at the end of it I got a different mailing address so he couldn't find me. He has reached out to make amends several times, but I have no desire to make contact. I forgive him, and played a role in making the relationship bad. But we will never be good for each other, and any contact we have is unhealthy.

Afterwards, my mom put his name and address on the refrigerator in case I disappeared. I should have pointed out he told me he wished he could have taken me to the prom, but I didn't. Instead I embarked on a series of mini-romances that included trust fund idiots, millionaires with drinking problems, ex cons, junkies, and any other degenerate under the sun. When each ended, my mom was more than thrilled. I was dating, right? Whenever I got a decent dude, he would run like he saw Godzilla. Most aren't into being shot by a stalker ex. Others saw I couldn't be nice, so they didn't bother. Or I just cheated on them and treated them badly.

What changed everything was the drug related death of my friend Chacho. Very gay and very out of his mind, Chacho and I both loved bad boys. Once, Chacho had acquired a prison pen pal, and sent the man his underwear. I believe the gentlemen was convicted of murder, and his panties were red. Anyway, Chacho and I had both managed to snag a boyfriend who was in some stage of married. We would giggle about our dysfunctional beaus and check out men. And then my friend died. Yeah, it was after having sex. It's the way we all want to go. He couldn't stop doing drugs and partied himself out of this world. I always wanted to tell him at least it wasn't on the toilet.

After his passing, something snapped in me. I am not sure if it was all together good or bad, but something shifted. Those disgusting guys ceased to lure me in. While the bad boys didn't kill my friend, they were one of the many factors that put the shovel in Chacho's hand as he dug his own grave. I didn't want whatever they had near me. Suddenly I was more driven than I ever was. Out of no where, I was gifted with a series of TV appearances with my puppet children. I always say that was Chaco's parting gift as he left the world. He was proud of me, plus he was obsessed with celebrity culture.

So for the last few years, it has been all about the career. I have worked tirelessly. I won't tell you all I have done because it will bore you. Things are starting to go well in a major way because of all my hard work though. There hasn't been anyone in years except for Holden for a brief time, and I ended that mistake. I have friends, I am a very good friend. In a lot of ways these past few years, I have felt more whole than I think I ever did.

Several weeks ago, my sister Skipper's boyfriend Boomer asked our father's permission to seek her hand in marriage. Now my mother's energies are spent planning this upcoming wedding which is at least two years away. Now once again, she is trying to get me to sign up for EHarmony. I think she is more upset about me being single than I am. Now each day she asks me if I have signed up for EHarmony. Recently, I booked a sweet gig. I called her to tell her.

My mom asked afterwards, "When are you going to sign up for EHarmony? I don't want you to waste that part of your life."

This reminded me of prom all over again. I was excited about NYU, and my mom couldn't stop reminding me that while it was true prom was coming up.

And then the shyness creeps back in. Yeah, I get a lot of fan letters from guys. Answering fan mail is different than talking to them face to face though. Plus some of the fan mail I get would honestly piss a boyfriend or husband off. Had one dude try to make me give up my career, never again. Or the idea of being someone's girlfriend comes into my head as I talk to a dude. At first I can entertain it, but then I just can't. I am back to being that junior high dork. I always think he's going to tell me it's a joke. Or we just end up as friends.

A few weeks back I did a show at a venue where there was another woman comic. When I come in off the streets, I always look like a waif and change afterwards to glam up. I hate looking good when I travel because then idiot dudes talk to me and no thanks, no likey creepos. I got to the venue, and I was the main event that evening. This woman gave me a weird up and down as I came in looking like I should have been begging for change outside. Actually, she kind of threw shade my way. It was like junior high again.

But then I transformed into my show gear, and she changed towards me completely. I think because she realized who I was. And then she offered me food. It was like 7th grade in a way. I was willing to let her start again though, and I was glad I did. We actually ended up hitting it off.

The point being, we all grow up I suppose. So maybe it's time to leave the awkward 13 year old in the past where she belongs. I don't want to ever forget her because she helped make me the woman I am. Maybe it's time to let go of that 21 year old mess who had the psychotic fiance who tormented and stalked her after the breakup, yeah there are good dudes out there. It's just that the good dudes don't want me. And maybe it's time to leave my Stephen King version of the dating game there too. But depending on the day, I feel like a shy teenager or a piece of trash who uses WriteAPrisoner.com. I have a career that is beginning to take off, and fans who love me. I don't need a dude, right?

I have puppets.

Part of me does want human things though like a romantic companion from time to time. So that is when the awkward, MTV watching 13 year old gets a piece of paper. On it she writes: Will you go out with me? Check yes, no, or maybe.



Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

Purchase my DVD Broke and Semi-Famous

Duck Soup

When I was a kid, my dad was obsessed with old movies. Because of my dad, I know about Mae West (visited her grave, hero worship) and the Marx Brothers. My first figure was a Groucho Marx figure. I still remember getting it under the Christmas Tree at the ripe old age of 13. It was my mom's present to me during a lost phase of my life. I had secretly been watching ventriloquists on TV, and looking them up on the internet, which was in it's infancy then. I also had been going to the library and reading about them.
Julius Henry Marx as a puppet

I was a weird kid, what can I say?

Truth: Loved the Marx Brothers. Brain Donors was a guilty pleasure of my sister Skipper and mine. During our brief careers as summer club swimmers, Michael Phelps we were not, we would watch the movie after swim practice. We knew it line for line for line. My dad pointed out it was a modern adaption of Night at the Opera. However, he told us the best Marx Brother's movie was Duck Soup.

I watched it as a kid, and feared it would be super, duper lame. Instead, it was funny. Very funny. The Marx Brothers were amazing as comedians. Groucho as a fast talking, verbal guy. Chico was just hysterical as the ethnic dude selling stuff and crashing the party. None could be complete without Harpo, the mute who stole every scene he was in by causing some sort of tomfoolery with Chico. Lastly there was Zeppo, the normal dude and love interest of the girl. "Hail, hail Freedonia." Note: I think this is similar to how the US does business sometimes.



When I was fifteen, I felt like my life was hell. I struggled with my weight. I yo-yoed like a bouncing ball and felt unpretty next to the bleach blonde cheerleader types I went to school with. I had a television show on cable access. Now people think it's cool I get on TV every once in a while. Back then, they made fun of you in school. I remember walking down the hall hearing how much I sucked. It was like being heckled in The Tunnel of Hate. Most of the time I would ignore them, but some days were easier than others.

I was also out as being a ventriloquist.  Doesn't exactly make you the most popular person to have at a party. I did shows at nursing homes and for kids. Some of my audience members thought my puppet was real, and asked Groucho to take them home. Maybe I wasn't the coolest girl in school, but one thing was for sure, I knew I was going to get the fuck out of there. I knew I was going to do bigger and better things than those idiots. In my mind and heart, I knew high school wasn't forever and I could get through. I was going to New York even if it was the last thing I ever did.
On TV as a kid in my hometown with Groucho. A little fatter and more awkward than I am now. Eh, screw it. I am less fat but still awkward. Some considered me a local sweetheart, and thought my adventures were cool. Other people thought I was weird because I wasn't obsessed with boys and other stupid teenage things. I had goals gosh darn it. Then there were those who outright hated me. I was too weird and didn't fit their standards for Middle American life. Or they were jealous of the things they could see coming to me. Either way, there were moments were I wanted to disappear but something told me hang in there. When I was seventeen, my sister's unused Charlie McCarthy became the first May Wilson. This is why I have the problems I do I suppose.

May after her first plastic surgery, Lynn Swann and myself. I couldn't rotate the photo. Yes, I am still an awkward failure in some ways. 

Years later I moved to the city as an old movie fan. One of the first guys to break my heart was a trust fund baby with a Murray Hill apartment. I hadn't dated much, and he was a lot older than I. What bonded us was our love of old movies, especially the Marx Brothers. I remember our first date, we went out and we both quoted Duck Soup. The relationship soured after that, because all I wanted was a boyfriend because I never had one and he was a jaded New York commitment phobe. Yet he would constantly talk about me to anyone who would listen, and would throw a hissy fit when I dated other guys. But whatever.....

After a lot of work, doors began to open for me. Last weekend, I headlined my first theatre. It was a two night thing. The first night was sparse, but the second night was packed. I killed both nights. Some of it was hard work, much of it was luck. On my way there, I saw a store where there was a Groucho Marx figure displayed in the window. Yes, it was the so called dummy I had as a child. I wish I had gotten a photo. I didn't know they still made them. It was a sighting that made my eyes well up. Either this was a crazy coincidence or an omen. I don't know.

Yeah kids, I followed Annie Ross and headlined a theatre. I just hope I remembered to shave my arm pits. 

When the second show was done, an audience member recognized me from TV. It was different than being a kid and going through the tunnel of hate. Instead, they thought it was cool. With that high, I booked something else. While I can't say too much it involves cameras and no, it's not a porno.

Yeah, May Wilson after the third plastic surgery. We got on national TV and got ourselves in some Duck Soup after this one, he he. 



Hint: In a month or two I will be back on national television. Basically, it's been an awesome last two weeks. I can't complain. And the sports broadcasting job is picking up. Getting paid to do what I love, becoming visible, and everything is coming together.

On TV again.


Then I got an email from my dad. All my mom has ever wanted since I was a kid was a pool. He is not a swimmer by the way. Anyway, it is warm and they just opened it up. Our neighbor's grandkids are there just about every chance they get. Well it rained the other day, and my mom had a covering on the pool. Some ducks took it upon themselves to get comfy because they thought it was a pond. While this was adorable and awesome, it was also awkward and problematic because ducks poop everywhere.

At that moment, I thought of everything in my life coming together. How things were happening. I thought of my journey with my first Groucho Marx figure and how my career was beginning to fly maybe US Air instead of Spirit.

Then I remembered Duck Soup. Then I remembered the Marx Brothers. Then I remembered the Tunnel of Hate that drove me to my dreams. And then I thought of the ducks on my parents pool cover.

No matter what happens in life, it is important never to take yourself too seriously. No one else does.

"Hail Freedonia."

Quack, quack, there are Donald and Daisy


Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

Purchase my DVD Broke and Semi-Famous

Love of a Woman (Travis Tritt)

Love is a hard thing. It starts out all bubbly until trouble arrives and then most people run for cover. Emotions are hard. This is where love gets difficult. Actually, love is easy. It's people who complicate it with ego and he said she said crap. You get my drift, right?

For me I have a weakness for two things, a man who lays it on the line to talk about what is really going on with him. And the other is a Marine. Reason being, two of my favorite original fans were Marines. Out of their minds, they were armed with an ego that said, "We are better than the army and navy." Slightly conceited, they sometimes like to remind people their boot camp is 12 weeks as opposed to the 8 of Army and Navy and the six of the Air Force. They are the few and the proud. And they proudly supported me on several occasions when a great number of people did not. The last time I heard both were deployed to the Middle East. I hope they are alright. Both wanted to re-enlist because they were having the times of their lives. The nice thing about those two, and I know I am digressing, is that you could hear their exuberant laughs anywhere, and usually when they began to laugh so did the rest of the room.

Also, my adopted POW/MIA was a Marine. Killed in Vietnam, he has found his final resting place in Sam Houston in Texas and is on a plaque in Arlington. His name is Antonio Sandoval, visit him if you get a chance. Oh and there is Lieutenant Colonel Dave Rosner. Not only is he an active Marine, but he also performs standup comedy and was one of the first friends I made on the scene. Oh, and he put the fire under my ass to get my book published. And then there is Just Plain Keith aka Keith Godwin or Semper Fi Keith, who books the recovery shows I occasionally do at rehab centers. So yeah, I love a Marine. I can't help it.

Today I delivered a singing telegram to a woman who worked in a medical office. It was from her Marine boyfriend. From what I gathered, the relationship was new because he had either missed her birthday or forgotten it. Anyway, he sent me all the way from Japan where he is stationed. Brent requested that I wear a WWE Championship Belt and sing the Travis Tritt song, "Love of a Woman."

The whole thing sounded quite insane, but he is a Marine. Marines in my experience are quite insane. My two original fans-Chuck and Bobby-both Marines as I mentioned, once told me about a grenade juggling contest they had drunk. This is just par for the course. The whole combination of things was quite insane, but completely funny. As I memorized the Travis Tritt song, I couldn't help but laugh. The heartland where country music is popular is notoriously homophobic and sexist as well as racist. However, they also lay their feelings on the line better than anyone. The lyrics to this song were very white straight male drive a pick up truck. And I had to stop from laughing. Travis Tritt has too many damn feelings.

I remember high school, and how when my friends would hear a song like this we would gag in the background. Then during my early comedy days we made a bet on how many black eyes the woman he was singing to received. Of course as I hit the road with my act and still do, this is either playing at an out of the way diner or last call at the bar. Either way, the emoting on the part of this probable homophobic country singer was much too much.

When I got to Brooklyn to sing to Julianna, the sun was shining. I went to the medical office, WWE belt and all. When I walked in, WWE belt and pink gorilla outfit, the nurses started dying with laughter. Julianna came out of the office and nearly peed her pants. "Can we do this in the back?" She said, her face turning as pink as my outfit

"Sure, " I said.

I began singing the Travis Tritt song, and her eyes began to water. As I laid into the chorus, one nurse filming it said, "This is so true!" No wonder country music was popular, people relate.

Julianna seemed like the shy type, unsure of what to do with the gesture. When she thanked me and informed me she had enough, I sang her Happy Birthday. I read the message:

"I hope you are having a great day. If you are not, I hope this made your day better. I am sorry I missed your birthday. Happy belated birthday! Your Favorite Marine."

At that minute, Julianna hugged me. "Awwww!" She said. "This was so sweet, thank you."

"You call that man, you call that man right now" One of the nurses said

"I can't, he's asleep." Julianna said, observing her beloved was in Japan and there was a 12-13  hour time difference give for take daylight savings.

"I think he would appreciate you waking him up just this once." I told her. The others agreed. And off she went, giggling and starry eyed, to call her Soldier Boy.

Brent MacAndrews made me realize that perhaps I am too cynical when it comes to love. While there are a plethora of idiots roaming the globe who use women, there are also a plethora of good men that don't. Brent MacAdams is one of those good guys. He is all man, and at the same time, is man enough to let a lady know how he feels. Maybe the song was cheesy, and I made fun of the lyrics the entire time, but sometimes a guy talking about his feelings is scarier than any bullet or grenade that could come his way.

He's a good catch. And he makes me believe in Happily Ever After.

Don't mess this up, Julianna.

Semper Fi kiddies.

And a man would be a fool to make it on his own.

Just a day in my life


Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

Purchase my DVD Broke and Semi-Famous

Ain't No Mountain High Enough (Marvin Gaye and Tammy Terrell)

Life recently has been pretty good. I headlined a theatre and had a big audition I did well at. Relax, I still didn't book the job. Thing is, if you do well they remember you and call you again. And the woman who referred me heard I did well. So even if I don't book this one I will book another one. Plus Ranter is going to iphone soon, and will be placing ads on the internet. Things are getting good. I also started an acting business class with a regional union rep, and am taking a graduate level creative writing class with two literary agents.

Headlining theatres, being seen by "important" people, having an app that is being pitched to "higher ups" and all that jazz is pretty cool. It brings me to a whole new level. I am a woman of faith, and I used to ask God for what I wanted as if He/She were Santa. Now I just let that spirit guide me. Sometimes I don't get what I want, but what I get is better. Sometimes I get what I want, just not in the way I thought I would get it. Relax, I am not a Bible nut, so my Godless Heathens reading this can relax. You are entitled to your beliefs too, and maybe you are right. I don't know.

In a way things feel too good to be true, especially since sometimes I spend my mornings answering fan mail. I found out I was on TV quite a bit in Australia which made me happy. The fan mail I got was awesome. Suddenly I had dreams of me playing the Sydney Opera House. I had only seen it in pictures, but have always wanted to go. Wouldn't it be grand if I was on stage there?

I have also always dreamed of performing at Carnegie Hall with my children. Lately I have been jogging past there to remind myself of where I want to be daily. It is a big dream of mine. As things fall into place, I know it will happen someday.

On the other hand, all his action seems a little overwhelming. Sometimes I feel as if it is an accident when good things happen to me. Partially because none of my career has been handed to me whatsoever. Additionally, I am always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for for me to screw something up. There are also a lot of people who don't think I am good at what I do. Either they think they are better, or that I don't deserve good things to happen to me. Many of them are eager to throw my gender in my face, reminding me that I am a woman. Or they are eager to throw a part of my past in my face I would rather forget, reminding me about how bad things used to be in my life and how I carried the mess rather than the message.

However, there are also people who want me to do well, and they are a blessing to have in my corner. There are also people who need me to do well. They need to see one can make their way out of the dark forest and do good things with themselves. They need to know anything is possible. One man's pariah is another man's freedom fighter. I am the freedom fighter for the misfits and the downtrodden. My puppets and I have come to bring them hope and Manna from heaven.

Note to self, I still have to clean my room before any freedom fighting can be done.
Love Aprilwww.aprilbrucker.com

Buy my book I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery GirlCheck out my DVD Broke and Semi-Famous coming soon

A Summer Place (Percy Faith)

When I was starting comedy, the big emphasis was on headlining. To headline it meant you were a star. It was your night.It meant you worked hard and were good at what you did. When they brought you up, your television credits were announced. The crowd cheered. You blew them away. Meanwhile the rest of us neophytes looked at you with admiration and idolized you. We were envious of your talent and television credits, but dreamed we would get there someday.

My big dream has always been to headline theatres. My act is one that is different. Club owners and bookers either want to grab me up or slam the door on my fingers. Casting directors want me because I am unique, or want nothing to do with me for the same exact reason. It is a two sided coin, a boobie prize sometimes but a prize in other ways.

A year and a half ago, I was ready to quit standup all together. I had just released a book, and wasn't hitting the stage as much. My focus was changing from comedy to just writing and I thought perhaps that was the path I wanted to take. Sure, I was making videos and stuff, and getting on TV had become "easy" for me. I thought standup was something I did when I was young and going through hell, and it had gotten me through.I had become sick and tired of the politics, and how I was always seemingly on the wrong end of the debate. It seemed being unique and being visible were the worst things to happen to me. No one wanted me. Male headliners were quick to remind me that they were men, and therefore I should make room for them for this reason. Not to mention I was reminded of how I was simply getting things because I was a "cute girl with puppets." Male bookers were something else too. Women were no help, telling me I pandered to men when they were more guilty than I was. I had paid my dues and was getting shafted. It wasn't fair. I was done.

After one terrible night, I had a cigar with a headliner I looked up to who had always supported me. He told me that being unique wasn't terrible, and that a lot of people who make it are a one and only. My headliner friend also informed me my act was different, and this was good. He pointed out that my best bet would be theatres, and that when people like Dimitri Martin discovered this they took off. Instead of being an oddball, suddenly I felt like perhaps I was in good company after all. A dream I had since the beginning of comedy echoed through my mind. I wasn't quitting standup. I was going to pound it harder than ever. I had a growing fan base and a bizarre skill, there was a market for me and I wasn't going to let people tell me otherwise.

For the next year, I made an effort to develop more of my puppets. The inspiration for the long set had been a DVD of Taylor Mason I saw as a teenager. He did a headliner set in a theatre with multiple puppets. While he is more of a Christian comedian, he was still incredible and I walked away knowing that was the way to go. Still, I was not sure how I could put them in my act. Yeah, I was on TV and all, but I just didn't want to be the proverbial blonde. I wanted to show people I was good at what I did, and cared about being funny.

The dream of being a headliner had gotten me through some of the darkest times in my life. It got me through a lot knowing that in my heart believing I was destined to do things with the weird little talking doll skill I had acquired. This past winter had been particularly brutal. Money was tight, and I was more broke than I had been in some time. There was a lot of uncertainty with my career. Familial drama was at an absolute high, and there were a lot of distressing events on that front. So I did what I always do when shit hits the fan, I threw myself into my work.

In the words of Winston Churchill, "The only way out of hell is to keep going."

So I made it my business to record a DVD and got an offer to headline a theatre. These were two big things I dreamed of doing since I started comedy. The DVD taping was a few weeks ago, and this weekend I headlined my first theatre. Night one the crowd was a little light but they were good. Night two the house was packed and the crowd was amazing. The energy was off the wall and fantastic. Both nights all of the comedians who proceeded me onstage were amazing. The level of professionalism was top notch as well. I was blessed, humbled, and gifted to enjoy such a wonderful weekend.

The thing I have to get used to is the nerves. I always am a jumbled set of nerves before I get onstage. It's the perfectionist in me coming out. As the emcee, you are the sacrificial lamb, and they either eat you up or eat you. As the middler, you are hoping the emcee isn't the sandman so you don't have the wake the crowd up, but also that they don't eat you alive too. Oh and sometimes they forget the middle man. Headliner though, you are the main event. So it can feel like forever before you get onstage. The nerves are like, "AHHHHHH!!!!"

But then as always when you get up there, everything is fine. And then when you hear the audience laugh at your first joke time flies cause you are having fun.

 Of course, after the show an audience member did recognize me from television. She confessed my voice and look were familiar, but when I pulled out May Wilson, it all came together. The whole thing was pretty funny. After all this hard work and effort, I am outshined by a damn puppet still. But the gift of this situation was that I got to be the main event at a packed house, got paid, and love comedy more than I have in some time. Thank goodness for my friend who not only talked me into soldiering on, but convinced me theatres were the way to go. As my hard work is starting to pay off, I am grateful I didn't quit five minutes before the miracle.

Now I am no longer the emcee or the middler, those days are gone. Now I am the main event, and the one everyone has come to see. Before I step onstage they announce my television credits, and everyone expects me to be good, and in my heart I know I earned this slot. I step onstage to deafening applause.

Yes, I am the headliner.

Yes, I will be here all week.

Next stop Carnegie Hall.

Shit, that's my alarm clock. One step at a time Ventriloquistdolly.


Love Aprilwww.aprilbrucker.com

Buy my book I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery GirlCheck out my DVD Broke and Semi-Famous coming soon

Penis Envy.....LOL

A Diesel Dyke is a woman who is of lesbian orientation. Most often butch identified, she works on big rigs. Okay, I am not butch identified and do not work on big rigs. What my sexuality is, I will let you come to your own conclusion about. Okay, I am bad with cars. I am a terrible driver. However, I could probably assist and fix in the middle of no where if I needed to. I am very good at being self-sufficient and figuring things out on my own.

Still, I find I personify Amazon Feminism. More often than not, I find myself in a male identified role. I am the sole occupant of my space, therefore when something is fixed I do it. For the last several years I have installed my own air conditioning. I am getting better and better with a screw driver. I carry heavy suitcases to and from my apartment. Not to mention I can lift heavy things on my own. Are my installations and repairs the best? Not always. However they get the job done.

I always find I get along best with the guys actually. Some dudes will say I am a Feminazi when I speak about gender roles and start throwing out the term feminism. Others will call me a Guy's Girl. But all discussion stop when we begin to speak about things like history. I click with guys on that level because I am a history buff. I know my wars, generals, presidents, and dictators. When you turn on the War Channel, I am glued. Football, I am glued. I can talk sports with most guys, and enjoy the conversations. Many times,when my dude friends get tickets to sporting events they take me along because not only will I enjoy it, but I'll know what's going on.

Then there are times when dudes don't like this side of me. Some men don't enjoy being bested by a woman. No Sir, you don't know all your dictators and Big Battles. And then when it comes to sports, there are guys eager to remind me about how much of a woman I am. I was doing a sports thingy recently, and one dude kind of took himself serious. I could tell he didn't like me off the bat. Aside from the fact I am extremely opinionated and can stir shit, I could tell he didn't think I belonged there. I can just feel it at this point in my life.

I don't take it personally. As a woman who is beginning to headline in the male dominated realm of standup, I am used to being reminded I am a woman. There are such polarizing views in the great rape joke debate. I just want to be funny. When I say I am a ventriloquist, people follow up with, "You don't see many women who do that."

I then inform them my sister Skipper is both a doctor and champion marksman. Women aren't plentiful in medicine and there is always a push for them. Women don't typically like guns. She likes both. So lets label comedy, ventriloquism, war knowledge, sports trivia knowledge, science, medicine, and marksmanship male things. Yes, it is offensive because it punishes people who are gender nonconforming in any way, shape, or form.

I enjoy friendships with most dudes. They are low drama and more loyal than women. I have several male friends who are like brothers to me. I would never get involved. It's not about preserving the friendship, but just the fact it would be like friend incest. I can't do it. However, they are there for me if I need anything from computer help, to joke writing help and everything in between. They don't take themselves too seriously, and nothing is off limits. This goes for my gay and straight male friends.

We run around and we have run. One of my friends Pachul is sort of a ring master for out of control people, and recently started dating a girl seriously who surprisingly does not shed clothing for a living. Another is Vinnie, who had a brief career as a pimp before he discovered women were a pain in the ass to employ. Mixed in there are the alpha males from the corner store who I discuss sports and exchange dirty jokes with. I am one of the guys in a way, if you want to gender identify me in that manner. Oh and sometimes when one gets a broken heart I even take them to the strip club. Yes, I put a dollar in her G-string, girl is working like a boss, yo.

I don't get offended by rape jokes. They are told my men who probably don't get laid anyway. I don't get offended by the c word. If a dude drops it constantly like bitch he isn't getting much and we all know it. Not to mention if a guy who doesn't ordinarily use it uses it, sometimes someone is just being a giant Ganghus Cunt. And only Cunty McCunt Cunts get offended if you drop the c bomb. Any woman who throws a hissy fit over that is probably some liberal pretender who cries racism when she has no black friends. Duhski.

Maybe this is why relationships are so hard for me. It's not that I can't get a dude, I am just wired too much like one. And there can't be two of us belching, cheering, and falling asleep after a big meal.Both of us can't know about the Odyssey and like action films. Both of us can't be buffs about sports and war. And not to mention I can take care of myself, pay for myself, and don't need his male ego in my affairs, I have a male ego of my own trapped in a petite blonde frame. So in the end there can't be two masculine forces in a relationship. Men want a lady to dote on that depends on them and constantly tells them that they are right, not an Annie Oakley who misplaced her rifle. So in the end we either become the best of friends who refuse to date again or the most bitter of enemies.

Ideally the woman I personify most if Calypso the Cave Witch. A minor deity, she imprisoned Odysseus because she could. It wasnt about love, it was an ego thing. I think she is my soul sister, unlike the game player Helen of Troy. Jesus Christ, Mr. Tietz is having a gas in the after life. Of course Calypso would share the same annoyance I have with my gender, and that is why I can't be friends with women sometimes. We want equality, but when the dude makes us split the bill on a date we scream. We want respect and equal pay, but then we use our periods and wonder why male employers don't take us seriously. We crucify women who don't chose husband and family but elect to become career women, yet we would never say that about a man who makes the same choice.

Basically this is me and this is where I am. If you don't like it don't support my career. You can go get hit by a car thus leaving my planet.

Until that time, I will be a hitchhiking survivalist who likes sports and war. Does it make me a lesbian? Does it make me have penis envy? Am I secretly a man in a woman's body? You decide.

Love Aprilwww.aprilbrucker.com
Come see me at the Soluna Theatre, May 30-31 Happague, Long IslandBuy my book I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery GirlCheck out my DVD Broke and Semi-Famous coming soon

Carving My Own Path

My name is April Brucker. I will admit I idolize Mae West. We are kind of built alike and have the same look, although I could only dream of being as awesome. I still remember the first time I saw her on my screen. I was ten years old and my family didn't have cable. Instead we had three channels and PBS. To live on Foxtail Lane you were a thinker. We were not television watchers by any means. Instead, we read. I was in fourth grade and had a high school reading level. It's not that I was smart. I was simply anti-social.

However, we were decorating our Easter Bonnets on the rare occasion we were allowed television. Sometimes my home could be like a POW camp. TV was a reward for a week's work. You could lose your reward through bad grades, bad behavior, and even worse, a run in with the guard aka my parents. Gluing the flowers on my bonnet, I remember a beautiful woman graced my screen. Talking through the side of her mouth she said, "Come up and see me sometime, any old time."

My dad explained that was Mae West. He said she was a comedian and actress well known in her day. The film was in black and white. This was different than the noisy, color television and cartoons we were sentenced to as modern beings. I was sucked in. My dad asked if we knew how old she was. We guessed her 20s. My Pops said she was in her 40s. Wowsa she was hot.

My favorite Mae West pic of all time

Fast forward to high school. I still remember having pictures of my idols, specifically Mae West, plastered all over my mirrors and walls. Sometimes they were even on my ceiling. I read about her, and did lots of reports whenever I could on her. What I liked is that the world was closed to people like us. People like her because she didn't look like a flapper at a time it called for that. People like me for the same reason. I knew that if I were to go anywhere, it would be my own way. I had puppets and I had dreams. Call me crazy but hey, it worked for Jeff Dunham.

Years later, fast forward, I moved to New York City. Things seemed to come together and fall apart all at once. It was shortly before I turned 26. Chacho and I had a falling out, and shortly thereafter he died a brutal drug related death. My roommate Nikki had a nervous breakdown over a man and moved back in with her mother. And I was set to do a show in Woodside, Queens at Neirs Tavern. It was a stormy night, and a tornado had come through that borough. Going to and from the gig was going to be quite difficult. However, my life sucked. I had to go. Getting onstage always made everything better.

When I got there I remember being the only comedian who showed up. May Wilson and I did a set. They asked me if May was named for Mae West and they said no. Then I was informed once upon a time before she became who she was, Mae West had performed there. My mouth dropped open. When I was 17 the cards were down and I was cast as the Witch in The Wizard of Oz, a musical containing a twister. My hero had been Mae West. Could this be another turning point?

Two weeks later I got a call. My puppet children and I had been chosen to be on TLC.

From there we did a press tour, I worked at an online television station, and I wrote my book. I also covered a song that was number one on internet radio.

Now I am at another turning point. I have dreamed of playing theatres since forever. A year and a half ago, shortly before the release of my book, I was ready to quit standup forever. I could do music and would make my videos. I could write. Then another comedian suggested that I do theatres, and told me that's where I belonged. Immediately I remembered dreaming about that since forever too. But how would that happen?

Pic inspired by the one above

Recently, it has been happening. I filmed a DVD and am doing my first big theatre gig on Long Island this weekend. The idea of being under the lights and having adoring fans is every performer's dream. But what if they hated my guts? This is a real fear in my line of work. Walking down the street, I had a panic attack and lost my ability to speak. Tears began to fall down my cheeks. I felt like the awkorkable ugly duckling from Foxtail Lane again.

Then I remember what we fear most never happens. Another dream I had since my brother Wendell played high school football was working in sports broadcasting. This was cemented in my mind when I attended the Heisman's with my sister Skipper. Recently, this door has opened through Ranter. I feared the male talking heads would regard me as an inferior. That hasn't happened yet. Every once in a while I make a joke and mix things up in my mind cause I think fast. But I haven't been dropped yet, and am starting to fit in quite well.

When I got home I looked at my bathroom door and saw a familiar figure, gleaming smile and black hat. She was giving me her blessing to take the next step. Yeah, I have always been a big mouthed woman in a man's world. I have always been the only one like me, which sometimes works to my favor but sometimes has been a detriment because people don't know how to peg me. Yeah, I have always been an oddball. Yeah, I have had some rough shit happen in my life, too. However, I lived through all of it and came out still slugging. I was always a fighter, and will always be.

I didn't let fear of failure stop me from moving to New York and chasing my star.

Mae West didn't let hederosexism and the myth of youthful supremacy stop her. Hell, she didn't even let jail get in her way. And we both like to cause trouble on a national scale. Watch my Rachael Ray clip.

As she smiled my way, I knew I was going to be alright. I knew I wasn't being taken this far in order to be dropped. I am going to the next level baby!

Now for the love of God, God don't drop me!!


Love Aprilwww.aprilbrucker.com
Come see me at the Soluna Theatre, May 30-31 Happague, Long IslandBuy my book I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery GirlCheck out my DVD Broke and Semi-Famous coming soon

Slam Team is a Slam Dunk

When one thinks of poetry based theatre pieces, they can either be performance triumphs or utter disasters. When I heard Slam Team was such a piece, I will admit I was a tad nervous. Written by poet and playwright Gina Inzunza and directed by Marcus Yi, this was a risk. As a critic, performer, and theatergoer, I knew the experience beforehand left me with mixed emotions. However, I would soon be proven wrong. Slam Team turned out to be a slam dunk.
A well crafted tale, Slam Team is the story of four high school kids at Manhattan High School For The Arts that start an after school poetry club. All four are lovable mixtures of philosopher, out of the box thinker, and rebel without a hall pass in a blender. The characters are Lorna the founder of the club. Played believably and skillfully by Nicola McEldowney, she frequently butts heads with her father who wants her to be a violinist, but her true desire is to be in a rock band. Then there is Jonathan, the gay friend and sometimes moderate, calm foil to those around him. Portrayed with a likable vulnerability by Nick Imperato, Jonathan also battles with familial acceptance of his homosexuality as well as an absentee father who often tries to buy his son’s affection with money. Of course there is Lulu, a gifted artist who often butts heads with her strict parents. Given a quirky charm by actress Thanh Ta, she is often the comic relief who struggles with promiscuity and has shoplifted, traps some young women fall into. Lastly, to round out the group is Dario, a student from the Dominican Republic who is an illegal immigrant. Luis Restrepo gives Dario a youthful energy and a sort of freshness and is brilliantly juxtaposed with the fact the young man works and has lived well beyond his years.
During this period other themes are explored. Lulu has an obvious crush on Dario. When she sees her would be beau with his arm around another girl, her heart falls. Despite her fast pace when it comes to men, she has a soft heart and truly wants to be loved and accepted. Jonathan later finds out the girl was Dario’s cousin, a freshmen who is being made fun of because of her accent. It is later revealed both Dario and his cousin are able to attend the school because of their uncle’s work as a janitor. This is also a highlight on the racist elitism that can exist within some of the top schools still. The two begin a budding romance. Instantly, the audience is drawn to this high school love story, and through empathy, experience, and a pure wish for a happy outcome we are rooting for them.
Dario proves to be a good perspective boyfriend, and does not judge Lulu for her past with men and shoplifting. Rather, he appreciates her talent as a visual artist. With his help, Lulu moves in a positive direction and builds a website for her art.
Meanwhile, Jonathan pours his heart out revealing he had a crush that lived next door to him. He says Neighbor Boy doesn’t come around but doesn’t say why. Later it is revealed that Neighbor Boy was killed after wearing a rainbow tie. It is implied it was a gay bashing. While heavy and heart wrenching, the theme is also relevant to the struggle for LGBTQ Rights, and the unfortunate bigotry many gay teens are still subject to. Rather than anger, Jonathan turns it into art.
Lorna, meanwhile, fights to keep Dario in the US by enlisting the help of her father’s friend who is an immigration lawyer. The gang teams together, and decides to enter the talent show. They decide to do a well composed piece on freedom. However, the night of the talent show Dario is a no show. It is revealed that he has jumped a turn style because he did not have money to buy a Metro Card. Due to the fact he had no ID and was illegal, he is being detained and possibly deported.
Dario is then shown in jail orange, as he does a spoken word peace about his struggles for freedom. It is unclear whether or not he was deported, and this is never revealed. In the wake of this crisis, the Slam Team goes onstage without their lynch pin, and are at first heckled. However, Lorna then silences the heckler and begins the peace. The show ends not only in a spectacular fashion, but there is also not a dry eye in the house.
While the acting was excellent, much of the credit belongs to the creative pairing of Yi and Inzunza. The casting choices and direction were perfect, making the story believable. The tale was masterfully written with dialogue that had a nice mixture of stark realism and innocent humor. These teenagers were true embodiments of young dreamers, and as an audience we were cheering for them every step of the way. Additionally, the poetry was well written, thought provoking, high energy, and at times fun. Not many poets are also gifted playwrights. Inzunza has the rare gift of being both.

Slam Team shows this generation of writers, thinkers, and dreamers is far from being doomed. Energy for creativity and change is alive and well as it has always been. The message is, always keep an open heart, an open mind, and above all things, leave room for poetry. 

Old Days (Chicago)

Not too long ago I was walking down the street and saw a friend from my past. Let's just call him Zeke. To give you an idea, Zeke met me at a time in my life that wasn't so hot. I have written about this time before. Yeah, the ex who was psycho, getting the different mailing address, being scared for my safety. Before that having been forced to give up my beloved puppet children because he didn't approve. Zeke met me as I was coming out of that rough time and trying to find my own.

We had spent a lot of time that summer at the diner. In those days Zeke was smoking. He still wears the painted on jeans and has the metrosexual wardrobe. We would sit outside as a host of characters went in and out. There was Chester, who had eight children and was always finding out about more of his new creations. There was Willie, a former sax player turned former heroin addict who had declared 95 dependents on his tax return. Oh of course there was Ricky, who worked as a stage hand and every damn thing tied back to his stage handing job. Lenox of course was a black queen who would talk about how he used to smoke crack, and how he got busted once for having a blow torch on a plane. Julianna was a high drama artist who thought she was Madonna, and in between getting kicked out of living locations she liked to draw. Deidre was once a groupie for the Grateful Dead, became a mom, cheated on her husband, and then a divorcee. Yasmine was a lesbian activist similar to Maureen in Rent.

Those were the days, kind of. It was wild. It was crazy. It was visceral. I really talked a lot about how all I had wanted to do was comedy. Those were my dreams then. On my way home of course I passed Joe Franklin's Comedy Club, or what it used to be. So many nights I did shows in that back room tourist trap. So many nights I did spots for audiences that couldn't speak English. Afterwards, so many times I got drunk and stumbled my way home through the night. Sometimes the punchlines hit, sometimes they missed. My mom and sister came to see me there, and my sister and some friends came once, too. I was young and ambitious. I had all these goals. The goals had sent me to New York, and the fear was that they wouldn't come true.

I still remembered the comedian characters from those days. There was Barry Lawrence, an older brother type who was destined to be a star but became an even uglier drunk and destroyed a promising comedy career. Last update, had two baby mamas that hated him. Not to forget Shira Katsburg, who had show business ties that she claimed and wore a fur coat no matter what the weather. Donny Lamell hosted a radio show, and showed natural talent onstage but also had a knack for pissing off people that mattered. Mikey Goldman was funny looking and that could get a laugh, but never wrote new jokes so you could say so much for that. Sheila Simmons was sleeping her way through every headliner until one got a restraining order against her when she showed up to his home in a drunken rage. So many people came and went. It was like a revolving door.

The thing that kept me going aside from my dreams was seeing the lights of Times Square only several feet away. I knew someday it was going to happen for me. No one was going to simply hand it my way. In show business, there is entitlement running like the Mississippi through the center of Middle America. The sight of the lights kept me working. Over the years faces from my life came and went and all I could do was keep moving.

Last night I was watching RPaul's Drag Race. Bianca Del Rio won. I remembered Chacho who first introduced me to drag culture. He knew every drag queen there was, and the gossip surrounding them. I found myself missing him and how he would dished on every queen walking. The pain of losing a friend of addiction never goes away. Yeah, it hurts less but there is something about it that always stings. I still remember how one of his runs landed him in the hospital and he told me he was telling people there that he had "a famous friend on TV." Then I realized Chacho meant me.

I also found myself more than ever wondering what happened to the cohorts from the diner. My old comedian chums who had disappeared. I longed for a yesteryear where I could go back and laugh with them about the bullshit. Before I was so wrapped up in myself, and had a cinderblock on my shoulder about who I constantly think I am. I also longed to let them know about all the things I had been up to.

In my journey before the drag race I found myself arranging a venue for an NYC signing of my book. During my meeting with the booker, we spoke about another character we knew, Rick Ocean, a promising comedian who struggled with bipolar. Rick fell off the radar and was homeless the last time anyone heard. He was also seen clad in a tiara and prom dress, don't ask. Anyway, the lights flickered on and off. The booker, a flamboyant man named Brooks Goldberg, explained the ghosts were friendly.

At that moment, it occurred to me my friends from the past might not be physically with me because life tore us apart, they moved on, or they died. However, they didn't leave me. I am sure the characters from the diner follow me wherever they are. Zeke had been eager as ever to get an update on my comedy. Some of my chums from Joe Franklin's back in the day keep in touch, and I know they would keep up with me. And of course, Chacho is keeping track in between the havoc he is wreaking wherever he is.

My visit with Zeke was also significant because it is a marker of how far I have come. After all the work, crying, and continual showing up, my dreams are starting to come true. Some have yet to happen, but it's not a question of if but when. One thing is for sure though, I got out of a relationship with an abusive partner and would never let anyone hit me today. I would never compromise things that were important to me, puppet children included. Sometimes you have to walk through hell to get to the other side, and the gift of a rock bottom is it forces you to take action. However, the only way out of that hell is to take action and to keep going.

I am doing a book signing at a MAC award winning venue it looks like, releasing a DVD, work as a talking head for a sports app, and am getting ready to do a theatre in two weekends. What does April of the past think of that? Eh, she still can't believe it. First she has to take care of her mascara.


Love Aprilwww.aprilbrucker.com
Come see me at the Soluna Theatre, May 30-31 Happague, Long IslandBuy my book I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery GirlCheck out my DVD Broke and Semi-Famous coming soon

Dance to the Music (Sly and the Family Stone)

Once when we were kids, we were driving back from a Pirates game downtown. That was the 90s and the team was decent. The song “Dance To The Music” came on the radio. My dad told us he saw Sly and The Family Stone live as they were getting to be big. He was about six feet away from them and Sly was coked out as shit. Yeah, coked out. Then again, that whole generation of musician did drugs, right? My dad mentioned Sly was just dancing and the whole place was on fire. I believe the whole band was actually related. It was the late 60s, early 70s. Aside from the Family Stone there was The Manson Family. Yes, I am talking Sharon Tate. That whole horror movie. Every member of that family has tried to get paroled but none have succeeded. But it was a weird time, a time of change. It was Civil Rights, and there were people who opposed them. Now there are people who oppose Gay Rights. It was Vietnam. My parents both knew people who were killed. Now we have the whole debacle in The Middle East. I have a high school classmate who drove his jeep over a landmine and was mortally wounded. People opposed both wars, and the only thing that was different was there was no draft in my generation. Otherwise people would be helluva pissed. So some things change, some things stay the same.Over the past year there has been a lot of change in my family. Not all of it has been for the better. Both my Nunni and Pop Pop, my mom’s parents, passed away. Nunni was a trendsetter and feminist before the word even became coined. She worked as a nurse during the war, went back to school in her 60s, and traveled the world after raising six kids. My mom then discovered words on scraps of paper, and Nunni confessed she had been writing poetry. So my mother implored her to publish. Nunni did, and akin to Grandma Moses began a writing career that spanned from her 70s to her 80s. Also, she acted as the grandmother in the local Nutcracker until her last year on the planet. Age wasn’t a number.Pop Pop was also pretty progressive before the word became colloquial. He served in the Navy during World War II, and I believe even achieved the rank of First Lieutenant. In college, he had also majored in engineering and had boxed. When my mom was a kid, he installed a chin up bar and made his kids do chin up when they entered and exited a room. This was before people knew anything about fitness and the importance it played in their children’s lives. Pop Pop also supported Civil Rights. His belief was blacks should have the same rights as whites, and someone of a different color was welcome to be his neighbor as long as they caused no trouble. Pop Pop also supported gay rights too. His belief was they were people, and if they chose to live peacefully he had no issue with what they did behind closed doors. Both were funny, both loved to tell a good joke. Both died within months of each other after being married sixty something odd years. There have also been some changes for the better. This past week I was away with my family at the beach. My sister Skipper brought her beau Boomer. The two met when Skipper was completing medical school, and Boomer was the brother of one of her friends. Lately things have been heating up with this relationship. When Skipper got a job in Nashville, Boomer interviewed and once he was hired moved down to be with her. I saw them together and they were attached at the hip. Like the characters in Commedia Del Arte and the Tarot archetype, their love is pure and without the wear and tear of baggage. Thus I have nicknamed them The Lovers.The Lovers proved to be ready and able vacation companions. I have to say although I don’t always agree with his Ron Paul friendly anti-government political leanings, I do like Boomer. He was telling me he met my sister and she kept blowing him off. Boomer’s sister Lena had organized these dinner parties in order to get Skipper to come and socialize with him. Out of the three, Skipper showed up once. Boomer was discouraged until his mother told him she and his dad had been engaged twice, and his dad didn’t give up. Well neither did Boomer. Eventually Skipper gave in. Well the plot thickens. Boomer had hinted that he wanted to propose to Skipper, and they had been looking at rings. Skipper had received a bridal magazine in the Easter Basket my mother sent her. Boomer mentioned he was going to ask my dad for my sister’s hand in marriage. I told him I didn’t know people did that. He mentioned his brother in law Jimmy had spoken to his father. Needless to say, when it was Boomer and my dad by the pool, they had the talk. Boomer went for it. He told my dad things had been getting kind of serious. And then he asked my dad for my sister’s hand in marriage. Well my dad’s best friends The Reveres came to vacay with us. Dr. Revere is an academic, and his wife Martha is pretty neat. Both met on Match.com. Anyway, while we were taking a pic on the beach my dad announced Boomer had asked him for Skipper’s hand in marriage. It was fun, it was joyous, it was a change for the better. Mother’s Day occurred during that trip and my mom, who took the passing of my grandparents quite hard, said that now there was no one to call when good news happened for any of us. I told her this simply wasn’t true. Our family structure was not diminishing but rather changing. Now when Skipper was called to get familial news, good or bad, Boomer would be attached to that announcement. There would still be people to get the good news, it is just that those people had changed. The network was evolving, not disappearing. Boomer would be a good brother-in-law and son-in-law. He understands family, and would have an idea on how to play his role. It wasn’t a bad thing. It was a good thing. It’s just that it was different.There has been some change in my work life as well. I got passed over for a huge opportunity this winter, and was rejected completely for a job involving my writing. Both killed my self-worth. Additionally, I am still waiting to hear on another thing and Lord only knows what is going on there. The winter involved a lot of darkness. The things that were going on were very bad on one end, and very good on another. There was a lot of uncertainty. Uncertainty is worse than death in some ways. With death you know what happens, uncertainty, not so much. The killer was, I came close to both. When I say close, I was touching the top of the mountain and fell.However, there have also been some opportunities revealing themselves that have been beyond words. I have started a new job for Ranter, a phone app where I work as a talking head. It is for sports nuts and sports fans everywhere. I don’t know what will happen or where that door will lead, but I have wanted to do something with sports broadcasting forever. This is a door I have wanted since I was a teenager, and now it has appeared. Also, I am doing a theatre show at Soluna Theatre May 30-31. I have wanted to do theatres forever too. Now it is happening. Additionally, I am also taking a graduate level class with a former editor of a big publishing house in regards to my writing. And a few weeks ago, I taped a DVD, a dream I have had for years. So some of the change is good.On the other hand, the change is scary. As a woman working in sports broadcasting, I am well aware of the sexism I will face from my male counterparts. While that word is getting better, it still has a long way to go. The theatre show is a go, but anything could happen and I am well aware. Also, there is the fear that now that I am a headliner, will I be able to cut the mustard? And I know I can write but I have never been a Grammar Nazi or school person, will I be able to hack it? As for my DVD, how to get it sold and how to market? Also, will I be able to watch myself, since I do talk like a red neck chipmunk on crystal meth. I love my puppet children but damn, they creep me out too. Then I remember another archetype in Tarot, and that is the Moon. The night Boomer asked for Skipper’s hand in marriage there was a big, brilliant full moon. We had gotten back from dinner, and we were on the patio. Boomer mentioned walking to the water, and Skipper mentioned she feared snakes. After some chiding, Boomer got her to go. The three of us journeyed to the beach. The bright lines from the moon illuminated as we stood at the ocean’s edge, the cool water kissing our feet. At that moment, it occurred to me that the future was not just unknown to me, but to everyone. Yes, my path currently is single career woman who eats, sleeps, and drinks her work. I don’t know what is next, but the only thing I can do is trust that I am doing what I have been called to do, and to know I have not been taken this far in order to be dropped. Additionally, Skipper and Boomer don’t know their future. Yes, the Lovers are young and optimistic, but their journey will have bumpy roads. No one’s path is smooth all the time. However, they trust that they have been brought together, and are walking into the future as a unit. So yes, in Tarot The Moon is the card of uncertainty, but however, it is also the card of faith and knowing the choice is right.Today was street fair day and I heard the song “Dance to the Music.” I ended up dancing with a woman missing some teeth in the front. But as we danced, it occurred to me that while change could be scary, life wasn’t that serious. Jobs come and go. Careers ebb and flow. Lovers disappoint, disappear, and are replaced with better lovers if the one you have doesn’t work out. The only thing you can do is have gratitude for what is good because that too shall pass, and know that anything that is bad shall pass as well. In the end you only have yourself, and you have to be able to handle a curve ball or home run and anything in between.
“I Say ‘Ride Sally, Ride.”
Love Aprilwww.aprilbrucker.com
Come see me at the Soluna Theatre, May 30-31 Happague, Long IslandBuy my book I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery GirlCheck out my DVD Broke and Semi-Famous coming soon