April E. Brucker's Blog, page 58

Vision

The other day I helped a blind man avoid a wall. He was walking down the street. Basically he was about to collide with the friendly brick and perhaps get a black eye, broken nose, and maybe even get his teeth knocked out. I could see this, and so I helped him get where he needed to go. The blind man was immensely thankful. I couldn’t imagine what life would be like without eye sight.
In some ways it would be terrible. You could never see a sunset. You could never see a rainstorm. You could never see an art exhibit. On the other hand you would never have to see two ugly people making out in the park.
What one lacks one makes up for in other places. I have a friend Octavio who is blind. Once when we first met he guessed I was about five feet four and was blonde. He had never seen a picture of me and no one told him what I looked like. Once, when a friend of ours was having a moody day he approached Octavio. Octavio said to our friend, “Joe, didn’t see you there.”
Joe replied, “Cause you are blind.” And let out a smart assed laugh.
Octavio calmly breezed, “No, it is because your energy was off. What is going on?” Snap! Damn! And Joe’s crisis came out.
The thing about the blind is they have a sense of humor about their blindness. My mother student taught for the school of the blind. At twenty one she was a double major in physical education and special education at the University of Pittsburgh. When she got to the school and was in the same room with these high schoolers, my mother became aware of the fact she could see and they could not. This sense of guilt for her eyesight that she took for granted became apparent during role call. My mother didn’t want to be tacky and say, “Oh there you are, I can see you.” Well these kids were intuitive. Finally, after a painful minute of my mother’s stumbling one said, “Lady, it’s safe to say you can see us. We know we are blind. Most of us have been that way our entire lives.” Everyone laughed, my mother laughed, and it eased the tension.
These kids told my mother various disability jokes every day to make my mom feel at home amongst them. My mom actually thought this was pretty funny. When she taught them gym they had equipment that made sounds so these kids would know when the ball was coming their way. Despite the small difference to make up for their deficit in sight, they were actually hip, normal teenagers. My mom grew fond of them and was sad she had to go. However, many kept in touch with her and would send her cards from time to time written in Braille. Sometimes I think people get a little sensitive about disabled people and disabled jokes. Ironically, it’s the disabled people who have the best sense of humor.
Maybe they can see the world more clearly than we know.
Once I remember listening to an old episode of Howard Stern with a friend of mine that worked for the show. They had Stevie Wonder on. Usually when Stern has a guest on they insult them and the callers ask every vulgar question imaginable. However this was different. Stern was respectful and in awe of this man and his talent. The callers all called in with various requests. This segment was much different than the normal format in a magical way. Howard Stern did not make one crack at his man nor at the fact he couldn’t see. He was Stevie Wonder. Behind the piano he is a God. This man didn’t view his blindness as a handicap but rather used it at a catalyst to prove his haters wrong. Stevie is a legend, and they wish they had a tenth of what he had.
Point being, in this world we all have our strengths and weaknesses. It is not your weaknesses that stand in your way of being successful, but it is rather how you work around them that determines success. So I guess you have two choices in this world: to be blind or to see. What do you choose?April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN

Miss Julie

A poem I wrote a while ago about an August Strinberg character and a real life woman that reminded me of her. It is amazing how stupid women can be sometimes. And I have never been a fan of a stupid, weak willed woman.


Once a street girl
Now a debutante
Awkward in either dress
Trying to be nonchalant
When you can’t pull off either disguise
 
They laugh at you
Your stupidity
Trying to be a brain
Trying to write poetry
Like a high school girl-
 
So stupid and so asinine
About a boy
Why isn’t he mine
Why doesn’t he want me?
And then you wonder why you are empty.
 
You cannot hide your jealousy
Coming from the fact you are so ugly
Coming from the fact it’s the looks you lack
A personality changes for a man
But the mirror you crack
 
Seven years back luck
Or a lifetime of being you
Fake, phony, easy
However, never sleazy
Just like a train everyone takes a ride
 
So many jockeys
Oh Miss Equestrian
Over the years there have been a great many men
Riding the horizontal trail
Your happy trail
 
I heard the ride was cheap
I heard the thrill was hardly worth the price of admit
Most people probably quit
On you the second you open your mouth
With your borrowed rhetoric
 
What color is your hair today?
Despite being a lawyer’s bitch
You are still a cheap lay
Now you make the switch
Monogamous woman
A woman in a castle with a broken voice
Pretending to defend a woman’s choice
Faux activist your latest disguise
Oh so coy
Until you are seduced by the stable boy
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN

Moth to a Flame

Old poem I wrote. Enjoy


Well helloMoth is my nameI flit, I flyDon’t ask whyAs I eat my clothAnd devour your lampshadeOn my latest escapadeUgly sister of Madame Butterfly
They say it is bad for youIt will killBut I love the thrillMaybe it will make me illOr maybe tiredWill I be unsureOr wiredOr scared like a child running from a bee?
Oh the flame is so meDear Abby want some adviceI never met a viceI didn’t likeI didn’t befriendHow does the story end in the land of pretend?With my friends Tina, Mia and Jack?Or will it be a stranger I have yet to meet?
I go towards the flameThe flame I admireThe demise I desireOh woe is meWired to dieBut loving the thrillThe past times that make me highThe past time that will kill
The flame envelops meOh moonlight nightDeath, silence, blackDarkness, howling, pain,Loss, crying, dear motherSo sorry to go so soonBut wait, not deadReady to tackle another adventure
Fuck you Madame Butterfly


Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN

Chat With An Old Friends

Last night in my yuck of self pity I went to the Duane Reade to get some supplies for my sickness. On the list were cough drops, bubble bath stuff, makeup to hide the dark circles under my eyes, oh and vitamins. Plus herbal tea for my throat. Between the singing and talking I do on the regular I need to heal my throat. I do everything you shouldn't do. My last few times behind the mic in the sound booth I have sounded like a fifty year old woman who smoked every damn day of her life.
As I was on my way I saw an old friend of mine. We ended up going to Starbucks and crashing. We kvetched about life. Me being sick, my grandmother's recent passing, and all that jazz. This particular friend got divorced again and his wives were demanding child support, and his first wife is a nag. But the cool part is that he just got in the paper for comedy. We talked about perhaps making videos together. We laughed about people we both knew and how nuts they were. One is a set of twins that is so insane they should win an award for that alone. One twin is famous, the other is less famous but takes credit for their success. It sounds like a movie. No, this is my life. As we were laughing I forgot I was sick. It was amazing. 
Actually we talked about possibly making videos together. Beyond amazing. 
Then when I finally got to Duane Reade I saw another old friend who was getting ready to do a presentation for his MBA class. We spoke for a few which was good and caught up. Then he gave me a Mother Theresa kiss. 
Bottom line, I am feeling better. Sometimes running into old friends puts a smile on your face and makes you to remember not to take life so seriously.
My grandmother always made friends everywhere she went and she was a spiritual woman who trusted God greatly. She always said God had a plan. And maybe whatever is up there, if it chooses to be called God, wanted me to get my ass out of the house.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN

Ebbs and Flows

Lately I have been feeling like a stinking blob of shit. My grandmother passed this past Monday and I have been as sick as a dog. Not to mention working like hell all the time. I am not complaining about working. I am just tired as hell on top of being sick.

I am going through some career stuff right now. My audiobook is nearly finished. I am happy. I love my sound dudes but I am sure they will be happy to rid of me. But a Sunday without me in the studio is no Sunday at all. We all know that, LOL. But I have been running myself ragged and have been paying out of pocket for studio time. I will have lotsa more money. Now lets just hope the audiobook makes money.

After the experience from hell a few years ago and dealing with every failed actor turned agent or everyone who has fucked up at everything else in their life turned manager I was indie for quite a few years. I have appeared on TV more than many of my friends with representation. Not to mention I published a book. Oh and my book got on Britney Spears's website and was written up by Mensa. Their fancy managers never did anything like that for them. Oh and how many TV shows have my puppet babies been on?

After a heart to heart with a friend I have decided to start the quest again. My friend pointed out that while I am not supposed to send unsolicited most of the time I have been on TV enough that maybe I can. Well yesterday I saw he was kind of right. I called several places, one that said, "Don't leave." Their agents reviewed my stuff the same day and said while my TV creds were impressive I was not the right fit. They said the puppets werent a good fit for their department. What the fuck? I have been on TV more than probably half their fucking client list in the past Goddamn week. Still, they looked at my stuff. I was unsolicited which they technically don't do. Not to mention it wasn't personal. Plus I like one junior agent there who's a doll baby. And if I have more stuff without my puppets maybe approach them again. Still, it's farther than I have gotten in the past.

While some of this has made me want to stay indie, on the other hand this was a morale booster because now people will want to deal with me because of my TV time. Plus an agent and manager will be someone else in my corner. These days I have a lot of good people in my corner. Friends, family, and Bart Polin. I also get a lot of whackos wanting to do these bizarre projects with me because I have been on TV a bunch. They have these big plans and I am sick and tired of them wasting my Goddamn time. Plus with everyting that happened with the stalker fan I want someone else to buffer me from such crazies.

Not to mention people have been driving me apeshit with their free career advice. They tell me I should do VO. Do you know any VO agents? Then they say no. They tell me I should do commercials. Do you know any commercial people? Well yeah, but I screwed up our relationship and we are no longer on good terms. Then they tell me I should have a theatrical agent who can market me to kids shows. Do you know anyone? No, not really.

Want some of my advice? Shut the fuck up. Stop trying to tell me how to handle my career when you have none.

I filmed a TV pilot a few weeks ago. No word on what happened. I need to get more TV time soon or I will die. I need something to pop in my life, for serious. I keep reading my Tarot Deck and it is weird and so many damn love cards. I don't want love. I want career damn it. I want to see the pretty boy comedians who have their careers handed to them be crushed under the brutal heel of my stiletto. My big fear is what happened to me a few years ago, to get on TV a bunch and film a pilot only to have my momentum stop.

I work so hard. Oh well. No one fucking cares in this man's world as I am woman against the world.

Give me some good career news soon, PLEASE!

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN


 

Lady No One

A special poem about how women will destroy themselves for men who don't want them and men who aren't worth it. xo

Hello Lady No One
Must be painful to be
No One
You change your identity for a man
Like you change your underwear
I hope you change your underwear
That is, if you can
If your man
Gives you permission

Well Lady No One
You were once a party girl
Spreading your legs for a lawyer now
Is he rocking your world?
Or are you disappointing him?
Is his name Jack or Jim?
Or is it whatever he tells you it is
Well whatever it is
Who are you in this mess?

Sure Lady No One
No one knows you are a fake
Every day you wake and bake
Once you faked a story about a shoplifting conviction
And then sex with numerous women
But now is that part of you gone?
As you are your lawyer's whore
And he calls you a whore
Everyone does Big Easy

Maybe Big Easy is your name
Because you are easily influenced
Because you are easy to pick at
Because you are easily mocked
By your lawyers friends
Who see his ex girlfriend making the name
Who see his ex girlfriend on the TV
And he says that is my ex on the TV
So is that why you hate me?

Well Lady No One
Or Big Easy
You assume my life has been easy
You assume that things are handed to me
And then just to be me
You do everything that I do
I guess I want to say what is best for me
Isnt always best for you
Oh no

Lady No One
Big Easy
Single White Female
These are names they call you behind your back
For the identity you lack
Or you so wish you had
Maybe you could be a good person someday
Someday, maybe you could be a person of your own
Just lady.....

Lady No One
Big Easy
Single White Female
Wandering, lost
Being an activist to please her man
Writing poetry to please her man
Being just like his ex on TV to please her man
Doing so much to please a worthless bedroom companion
Are you really that empty
Sadly, yes

Lady No One
Consumed by a man
Controls her every move
Is she like the ex that broke him yet?
Blonde hair that is not hers
The cat, the pet
To get the ring
There will be no such thing
For this live in concubine giving away her best years.

Lady No One
Cries in her room
Wearing someone else's perfume.
Spouting out someone else's ideas
Spouting out her man's affirmations
Once a party girl
Now a lawyers wife
Perhaps tomorrow an astronaut
Today she wallows her body to a man wishing he were with a love he lost.....


Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN

It's Alright Have a Good Time (The Impressions)

Yesterday I found out my grandma, my beloved Nunni, had died. It was a shock, totally unexpected. My grandma was quite diabetic but never listened to doctors. It wasn't because she didn't care. She figured she was eighty-eight and wanted her damn candy. My mother tried to get her to go to doctors appointments and she would just cancel. Hey, there was a sale at the mall and there was an All You Can Eat Senior Special at Ean 'n' Park. My grandmother had other plans. She had raised six kids, lived through World War II and Civil Rights, oh and while we are there my grandmother also worked as a nurse and earned a teaching degree after her kids were grown. She figured she could do what she wanted. Personally, I think she was correct.

When I was a kid my grandmother got into a car accident. She had injured her head and they put her in a mental hospital. My grandfather almost died from a fatal blood clot. The backstory was that my grandmother had been doing her yearly role as the grandmother in the local Nutcracker when they were pulling out of the parking lot, someone wasn't looking and BAM! She was doing well in the hospital until they gave her the test. Due to the accident she had developed amnesia a la soap opera. Anyway she was regaining her memory until they made her do simple math as part of the discharge test. My grandmother failed the math test. They wanted to commit her because of what they viewed as long term brain damage. My mother, at the end of her rope said, "My mother is fine, she has the rest of her memory. Head injury or not, she was always terrible at math." And somehow, they got her discharged.

Yes she was terrible at math. I am too and so is my mother. My grandmother was the worst out of the three of us. Anyway, when my grandmother was trying to earn her bachelors in teaching they made her take a math class. The teacher was mean and nasty and there was no way my grandmother was passing. So she did what any desperate student would do. She started bringing the teacher candy. Well it didn't sway him one bit. Maybe he didn't like M & M's, I dunno. So my grandmother's GPA looked to be in peril and once again my mother had to step in. My mom met with her old college adviser who discovered my grandmother didn't need the math class after all and my grandmother was able to graduate. But still, the guy didn't pass her for all the candy she gave him which means he sucks as a person. Even politicos take bribes.

The thing about my grandmother is that she always had some sort of job. After retiring from nursing, teaching, and having six grown kids she took a job as a security guard at Walmart. Instantly, my grandmother was beloved and talked to just about everyone. My grandmother became so popular that they were making a local television commercial and they stuck her right in it. The actors painstakingly learned their lines but my grandmother stole the show on the merit of her personality. Needless to say, I think everyone was speechless. This lead to her being an extra in several films, one in which we say we could see her head.

But this job enabled my grandmother to make new friends, and instantly after befriending these people she would bring them to familial functions. We used to joke that grandma would say, "This is Bob. He used to be a convict but now he's a fugitive."

During one encounter we were having a Sunday lunch when we heard talking downstairs. Fearful we had burglars, my dad made the motion to get the shotgun he kept in order to protect the family. That is when we heard a voice say, "Annie, Bill, you home?" My dad's jaw dropped open. We had left the garage door open and rather than knock my grandmother just came in through the basement. Seconds later my grandmother and a bushy haired woman emerged.  With her she had some friend she met during her tenure at Walmart that she barely knew. My grandmother announced she met the woman that day and that this was her new friend and something else and apparently she had a birthday gift for my brother. At that moment, despite the fact my dad was probably ready to kill his mother in law, I couldn't help but laugh. The whole thing was pretty funny.

The thing about my grandmother was that she did whatever she wanted to whenever she wanted to. When I was a kid we discovered she could write poetry. My grandmother had written her poems on scraps of paper and left them lying around her house. Much like me she was  a hoarder. Anyway, during one cleaning that my mom did of their home she discovered them. My mother said to Nuni, "You need to publish these Mom." So my grandmother did, and at the age of 75 became a published poet.

I sometimes say my grandparents missed their calling as a comedy duo. They had been married for sixty something odd years. On the 60th wedding anniversary invites my grandmother wrote, "We have been married sixty years. We are one step closer to being dead." Of course my mom, aunts, and uncles were horrified. As usual I thought it was pretty funny.

But here was one memorable exchange my grandparents had.

Nuni: Fred, get up and stop being such an old man.
Pop Pop: Pat, being married to you is worse than life in prison. Because at least with life in prison I get the possibility of parole.

But this was only second to the exchange my grandmother had with my dad. Every year, my dad, who is a tax lawyer, did their taxes. After sixty something years of paying taxes my grandmother was fed up. So this is how the exchange between her and my dad went

Nuni: I am moving to Spain?
Dad: Why Mrs. Wallisch?
Nuni: That way I don't have to pay taxes.
Dad: Well Mrs. Wallisch, as a dual citizen you would have to pay two sets of taxes. So you would be paying twice the taxes.
Nuni: Oh-
Dad:Yeah.

Over the years my grandmother said countless prayers and novinas for my career. Not to mention she became the source for countless jokes just cause the punchlines wrote themselves. Throughout the weekend I found myself playing Yenta for not one but two Jewish families and they always tip well for their beloved Buble. But here is the thing, it's because everyone's grandma is somewhat crazy, somewhat whimsical, always adding levity and most of all just cool as hell. Bottom line, grandma rules.

Yesterday as my mother was falling apart I found myself having the day from hell. A job I was supposed to do got moved so I had to cancel my recording. I was also helping my mom write the obit. I don't think recording would have gone as well. But I just found myself at the end of my rope. Then I went to Penn Station and heard a bunch of street performers. They were singing "It's Alright."

At that moment, I looked over and saw a woman who was wearing a hat my grandmother used to own. As I heard the song and saw the hat I think it was my grandmother telling me she was at peace and had gotten successfully to the other side. After all, she gave me a lot of years of great memories and stories that are helluva funny.

And when grandma came, no matter how crazy she was, it was a gentle reminder life wasn't that serious. It was only as complicated as we made it. Hey, it's alright Nuni. I know you are causing some sort of mischief on the other side.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN

Smoke in the Alley

When I was growing up I heard about my family from Ireland. They were from the South of Ire, the part that was free from the UK. It was some crazy math like 26 plus 4 equals one. Meanwhile I had never been to Ireland and as an American it really didn't matter to me. But from what I heard my grandmother Blanche Haggarty Brucker was all about being Irish.

Her family had come over from a ticket they won on the sweepstakes and she was a pistol. My great grandmother smoked like a fish, drank like a chimney, and loved to gamble. She had a picture of the Pope as soon as you walked into her home and it was no question, she was a Catholic. She was not about Ulster, the Protestant North. She obeyed the Vatican. Meanwhile as an American who has studied religion extensively one favors the Virgin Mother the other not so much. It's really a lot of BS over one small difference but nonetheless they think it's big. Apparently she prayed to all the saints too which in my opinion seems like going through a bunch of operators before getting to the big man. But it was her life and it was the way she did things.

Once my great grandmother saw a woman on St. Patrick's Day who was wearing orange and she got into a fist fight with her. I had to give it to the woman, she did not take it lying down. You did not mess with my great grams.

During the end of her life her smoking in particular was bringing her down to her knees. The doctor told her she had to smoke less. But she was not hearing of stopping. Despite the doctor telling her to stop smoking she kept on. It wasnt about being self-destructive or being stupid, she just didn't respect the doctor. No one ever told my grandmother how. She was the child of immigrants, grew up in a rough part of town, and married a steel worker and had seven kids. She wasn't about to let some doctor run her life.

My grams thought she was slick and she would open the window when she smoked. She thought no one would know. But my grandfather would come into the room and say, "Blanche, are you smoking?"

My grands knew she was going to catch serious heat if she was caught. So she said, "No Bill, there was a fire in the alley."

Apparently there was a fire in the alley several times a day every day. My great grandfather always believed her. Maybe he didn't but just knew better than to fight with her. Either way, she continued to smoke and there continued to be fires in the alley until she eventually died.

I never met my grandmother. But they always said I had her sideways smile, the Irish smile. It used to drive my mother crazy when she would photograph me as a kid. As I got older, one evening, I was watching an Edgar Bergen TV Special and everyone couldn't do ventriloquism but I could. My parents glanced at each other. My mother grudgingly said to my dad, "Bill, it's your grandmother's smile. It's finally paying off."

I know my grandmother died before my time. But aside from the smile I know I am her great granddaughter in many ways. I am not afraid of a fight and never took anything lying down. In an industry littered with men who want to see me stupid and women who hate me because I am prettier and funnier than they are, I do things my own way. They don't know how I always run across the goal line beating them all as I don't follow their rules but play by my own each time. Those rules are hard work and no fear. The Irish don't have the luck of the Irish simply because they are Divinely Blessed, but rather they get knocked down, get up, and keep on going. That is the luck of the Irish, fearlessness in the face of the flame. That is why I don't follow the rules. I don't listen. And when I say there is a fire in the alley it rules in my favor.

Happy St. Patrick's Day Great Grams. Have a cigarette and gin on me. And no worries, you can smoke as much as you want in heaven.
Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN

Self Care

I have been working myself to the bone as of late. Last Monday I worked, worked, worked. And then had some errand to do that night that was work related. Then Tuesday I worked as well. Wedesday I shot a pilot all day which meant I WORKED. Thursday I did lots of duty with the telegrams which meant I WORKED. Friday night I WORKED and Saturday I emceed a Democratic fundraiser for a candidate which meant I WORKED. Sunday I was recording my audiobook and we are seeing the light at the end of the tunnel but yes I have been WORKING.

In between my working I was drinking a lot of coffee and not eating for as many as fifteen hours. When I did eat it was pure junk like donuts and cookies and pretzels. I was so charged from the coffee and sugar I ate I began walking everywhere. As in from my street to West 3rd. Translated, my blood was so wired I didnt require food cause of all the sugar and caffeine and didnt even feel the tired. However, I turned into a mega bitch.

Let's see. April's greatest hits included a near street fight with an idiot who used her kid to cut in line. Another near street fight with an idiot who opened his umbrella too close to my eyes. And then a third clash with a kid who was being a tool somewhere at some theatre who was just being a tool cause that's what he did.  I should have walked away but I screamed, "Asshole, don't you own a television. Everyone knows me and my puppet babies!" I should have gotten an award for holding it together......not. Needless to say he was quite stunned.

Soon after I spoke to my sister about my work load and she said, "That's a lot of work. I feel tired just listening." Meanwhile this is someone who is training to be an ER doc and spends nine hours on her feet.

When Monday came I was so exhausted I could barely move. I had been on so many trains and buses I felt myself moving. I felt depressed for no reason. Meanwhile I was on TV again, have been twice in the past two weeks with my puppet children-two different programmes. Not to mention my book is one step closer to being in a major chain and oh, my book was also reviewed my Mensa. Not to mention I am working with an excellent composer on my musical. Did I mention I have been recognized from being on TV? People write me fan letters. McBlah blah!

I spent the morning crying for no reason whatsoever. I had no reason to cry. I am working so I have money. My rent is almost 2/3s paid for the month already. I am doing fine and many would want to be in my shoes. Yet when I hung out on facebook I saw people posting their good news and all I could think was fuck you fuckin fucks. I got some coffee and breakfast and felt immediately better. And then convinced the whole world hated me because I had acted like an outraegous fucktard the week before I was looking behind me to make sure I didnt get shot.

I ended up going to the pool where I saw not one but two of my friends and went on a very therapeutic swim. Not only did I suddenly feel better but I didn't feel like this outraegous failure that no one wanted or loved. That evening, I had a booking that got cancelled and then hung out with friends.

Tuesday however, I was back to bitch mode. I woke up again in the morning crying and bumped my head twice and cried again. After that I did my two deliveries, clutch. That's when I visited a woman who is like my mom in Brooklyn, yelled at her, and she said, "Maybe you need to visit your mom. Seriously, you are out of control. You need some sleep."

The next day my mom called and I lied and said I was fine. My mom can always tell when I am lying though. Anyway I took a breath, messaged her, and then said I wanted to come home. I ended up having a mini breakdown on the phone where I told her that I hadnt been eating at all, was walking everywhere, and was TIRED. I also confessed I had been acting like a heel and she said, "I know you have. I have seen you like this and I know how you behave when you get in this state."

My mom is a trainer and exercise psysiologist and we discussed my diet and how to improve it. We both agreed that my diet was probably why I was melting down. It felt really good to get honest with my mom and it felt really good just to have her at my disposal. We also booked my plane ticket. It felt good just to talk it out.

It also made me realize how important it is to eat well. As my career picks up my schedule will only become more demanding. Someone once said, "You picked the hardest profession in the world. You don't need anymore problems." He was correct. And that is why I am saying it now in this blog, health and nutrition are no joke. The food pyramid is not there for decoration. In addition, you are never alone in this world. You have your friends and family. I also realized how easy it is for me to be a megabitch when I am alone and tired.

This week I have been eating better. I am just as busy but I am thinking much more clearly. I am also not compacting everything at once. I scored a job Sunday so I am moving my recording to Monday. I had a job today and had to take a train so I didnt take one that cut so close so I would be running. I also took the night off tonight so I could relax. I might take a bath and am currently watching a movie. I also am speaking to my composer Monday. That way I could do my job today, do the prep before hand, and then didnt have to rush him off the phone.

It is amazing how much better I feel when I take care of myself. I go from feeling ungrateful and overworked to being grateful that I am a working entertainer in the greatest city in the world. I also am happy for my sister who matched at Vanderbuilt for emergency medicine and my brother who matched at UConn for pediatriac medicine instead of pissed that the world is leaving me behind. I also feel happy for people who get good news whether it is a TV series or show rather than pissed that they have gotten something I never thought I wanted but suddenly I wanted at that moment. It's because I realize I am not a loser. I am someone in the lane, fighting the good fight, and running with the winners so I can be happy for other winners. It is amazing what a difference a hot meal and a good night's sleep makes.

Hungry and tired are no joke. But now I feel more relaxed. I think I will replace my snarl with a smile.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN



 

"I Let You Shave My Asshole"

The other day I was walking down the street after a long day. I had my puppets in tow and just wanted some food. People were moving too slow and frankly the guy in the front of me in line was using his kid to try to cut. Whatever.

Well I was walking down the street and two drunken gay men were having a disagreement

Drunk 1: I am a good friend.

Drunk 2: I am a better friend

Drunk 1: I am the bestest friend. I am the bestest friend. I lent you money.

Drunk 2: I paid you back which means I am a good friend.

Drunk 1: I am a better friend.

Drunk 2: No you arent!

Drunk 1: I am. I let you shave my asshole!

It is just the three of us on the street. There is an awkward silence. We all look at each other.

Drunk 1: She even thinks I am a good friend.

Me: Yes you are. Only in New York.

Drunk 2: Ha ha!

Sigh, welcome to my world.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audiofile this Spring
Portion of proceeds go to RAINN