Once a year I think about being a fetus.
Since I was born of someone I have never met, or at least been properly introduced. For 9 months I was inside a woman, I assume, since I have a belly button we can safely say I wasn’t hatched, she carried me around and then one day in February pushed me kicking and screaming into the world. I then went into foster care until my adoption was finalized. The only information I have about her is that she was 16, came from an affluent family in Philadelphia, and named me Cheryl.
I haven’t seen JUNO yet, and I think it’s on purpose. I have a feeling I will probably transfer a lot of my own personal history onto Ms. Ellen Page. In fact from what I have seen in previews she seems to fit the exact idea of who I thought my birth mother would be. Impossibly smart for her age, hilariously quick witted, not unlike myself. Clear headed enough to know that she had so much life to live before even considering keeping the baby and that in the end was doing the right thing in giving it up to a deserving couple.
Abandonment is a funny thing. Logically I get it, but somewhere in my DNA, or subconscious etc…I can’t let go of the fact that I wasn’t good enough to keep. It’s beyond my control, she did it for me so I could have a better life, I know that, but the fantasy of what my life might have been haunts my fertile imagination. It used to be a way of escaping my childhood at times. Suddenly I could be the lost heir to some vast empire if I got grounded for riding my bike in the street. That someday my REAL family would rescue me and this time they would never leave. Funny how you hold onto those self coping images that speckle the past.
I was lucky enough to get my family, a lot of kids don’t. I can play what if until my brain freezes, but again what’s past is past. I do wonder if she, my birth mother, if still alive thinks about me on my birthday? Does she feel a pang of something missing? Maybe she’s misplaced her keys or lost a glove. Thinks to herself, “What am I forgetting?” Then in a quite moment it comes to her. Oh, yeah I had a baby today.
I guess I will never know the truth. Adoptions are closed in South Carolina. We would both have to register with Catholic Charities in order to find each other and then only if we both consented would we be given contact information. After my mom died I thought about it. But then it just seemed silly. What would it prove? I think the idea came to me because being a motherless daughter is a very hard lifestyle. The adjustment is unending and frankly I don’t think one ever “grows” out of it. That loneliness made me want to seek her out. However, if I trade reality for my fantasy then I’ll have my answer. Then what? I’m not willing to take the risk. Her not fitting into my life suddenly becomes the problem. Which begs the question, if she’s not JUNO, then who’s not worthy now?
I will probably see the movie at some point when it comes on cable, I’m sure I’ll cry and laugh and vice versa. Every impending birthday has this moment and will surface again and again at least for me. Wherever she is, whoever she is, alive or dead, she got me to the door. It’s up to me to continue my walk through it and find out what waits for me, to make better choices and know that every second is a chance to turn it all around.
Thanks Moms…thank you both.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
I'm now OFFICIALLY part of the problem....
Yesterday, my dear friend Madeleine gchatted me to say that she had just gotten a text from our friend Danielle that she was at the gym on the treadmill next to Madonna. Very cool indeed. I then told everyone surrounding my Jew cube and they said I should call Page Six. I was like why? They were like why not? I was content to enjoy the coolness factor of my beautiful friend Danielle sweating along side one of this centuries biggest icons. I joked with Madeleine about Page Six or perhaps emailing Perez Hilton. I then decided I would do the latter I mean really he’s in LA what could happen? Here’s what I wrote:
Subject: Madonna...
Working her jelly right now on a treadmill at the Reebok gym on Columbus on 67thin New York City….Esther sweats just like the rest of us!! Love you on Gay Pimping with Jonny McGovern!!! Work grrrl!!!
Off flew my second hand sighting to a website address in the black hole that is the internet. Less than 10 minutes later I receive this reply:
Hot!
xoxo
P
Clearly, Mr. Hiltons cousin through another mother (i.e.: Paris) lack of vocabulary skills is still heavy on his mind, but I did appreciate the xoxo. The story doesn’t end there….the chat continues….
Madeleine: brandy! did you tell Perez?? Spotted: Madonna working her jelly Tuesday afternoon on a treadmill at the Reebok gym on Columbus and 67th in New York City. Esther sweats just like the rest of us!!
he even uses the word jelly
me: OH MY GOD!!! That's what I wrote to him!! hahahahaha
am I in trouble?
Madeleine: no that's AMAZING i didn't realize it was that easy
me: Me either!!!
Madeleine: you are hilarious, as soon as i read it, i knew it had to be you, haha
In a 20minute span of time and through the use of 3 modes of technology I was able to alert a gossip hound of the exact whereabouts of Mrs. Richie. What was worse were the comments made by people to the listing on Perez’s site. Evil, vile, mean, nasty comments, a few nice ones, but mostly embittered computer freaks who hide behind there screens passing judgment on everyone. Frankly, I feel dirty. I feel like I have put negative karma into the universe for outing the athletically minded diva. Becoming part of the paparazzi and media frenzy over every little thing celebrities do has made me remorseful. Madonna, can you hear me, I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to spill the T and totally T. I promise to endeavor to keep my nose out of your business and continue to buy all your albums even though people say you’re over. You’re not over you’re just at the gym, which is where I need to be.
As for Brittany, Lindsay, Jamie, and Amy you’re on your own.
Subject: Madonna...
Working her jelly right now on a treadmill at the Reebok gym on Columbus on 67thin New York City….Esther sweats just like the rest of us!! Love you on Gay Pimping with Jonny McGovern!!! Work grrrl!!!
Off flew my second hand sighting to a website address in the black hole that is the internet. Less than 10 minutes later I receive this reply:
Hot!
xoxo
P
Clearly, Mr. Hiltons cousin through another mother (i.e.: Paris) lack of vocabulary skills is still heavy on his mind, but I did appreciate the xoxo. The story doesn’t end there….the chat continues….
Madeleine: brandy! did you tell Perez?? Spotted: Madonna working her jelly Tuesday afternoon on a treadmill at the Reebok gym on Columbus and 67th in New York City. Esther sweats just like the rest of us!!
he even uses the word jelly
me: OH MY GOD!!! That's what I wrote to him!! hahahahaha
am I in trouble?
Madeleine: no that's AMAZING i didn't realize it was that easy
me: Me either!!!
Madeleine: you are hilarious, as soon as i read it, i knew it had to be you, haha
In a 20minute span of time and through the use of 3 modes of technology I was able to alert a gossip hound of the exact whereabouts of Mrs. Richie. What was worse were the comments made by people to the listing on Perez’s site. Evil, vile, mean, nasty comments, a few nice ones, but mostly embittered computer freaks who hide behind there screens passing judgment on everyone. Frankly, I feel dirty. I feel like I have put negative karma into the universe for outing the athletically minded diva. Becoming part of the paparazzi and media frenzy over every little thing celebrities do has made me remorseful. Madonna, can you hear me, I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to spill the T and totally T. I promise to endeavor to keep my nose out of your business and continue to buy all your albums even though people say you’re over. You’re not over you’re just at the gym, which is where I need to be.
As for Brittany, Lindsay, Jamie, and Amy you’re on your own.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Not good...but not bad either.
2008 recently has been serving up some unbelievable opportunities for me. I’m performing more comedy, I’m dating (I know, shocking!!), I got that raise at work; things seem to be turning for the better. Unfortunately, health wise things are going rapidly in the opposite direction. I’ve had the flu/head cold for 2 weeks, my baby leg symptoms have moved into my “good” leg, I’ve lost my appetite and I’m not sleeping. Now other than the baby leg I would look at this as warning signs of Heath Ledger syndrome. No disrespect intended, but until of late I have been a world class eater and amateur insomniac, I mean I am a night person on a 9 to 5 schedule so sleeping has always been problematic but not completely illusive as of late. So what’s wrong with me, so much is going so right why can’t I seem to get it all together at once. Surely once these pesky germs find their way out of my system things will get brighter, I need to figure out what to do about my falling tendons. Achilles was right once you lose them it’s all over. Maybe Eastern medicine has some ideas they love to poke things into your feet.
More happy news, Clive Owen and Naomi Watts were filming a movie on my block. Their trailers right outside my window. For those of you that know the Magic Treehouse you know that my bed is right there practically on the sidewalk. So does that mean we’ve “slept” together. Ok that’s reaching, but delightful dreaming none-the-less. LOL!
Then while walking Ms. Kayla on January 9th as I do every night when suddenly a cab pulled up on our familiar cross street. I then heard an accent not to be believed and when I turned around to see who the hillbilly was accosting my eardrums it was Mr. Clay Aiken. Dressed in white valour sweat pants and a blue hoodie. He was talking on his blue tooth and caring a white plastic bag with unknown contents. Then it happened he saw me seeing him and went, if you can believe it, 3 shades paler. I said, "Take it easy Skipper McGee!" (which is his Manhunt Screen Name-for those of you that don’t know Manhunt is a gay social sex network) That's when the pale burst into Rainbow Red and he scurried quickly into his Residential Suites Apt. I giggled all the way home!!
I wrote to Jonny McGovern the Gay Pimp, my favorite podcaster and told him the story, (since they are the ones that uncovered the Manhunt id name) he was thrilled that his little undercover gay baby “read” miss thing and turned it out for the Gay Pimping Crew. I am currently trying to get my friends Marc and Stephen to help me put out a podcast of our own. I think the format is so much fun and harkens back to the days of what was it called, oh yeah radio. On other creative fronts I am working on two theatre pieces one a dramatic interpretation of the 8min and 15sec LOST series run down currently posted on ABC.com for all those who need to catch up. Frankly, it’s genius and needs to be brought to life with interpretive dance. Then my cohorts in crime Chan Harris and Jacob Toth are working on a full musical production of a show destined to change the old, worn out face of Broadway, mark it people as soon as it’s written so will it be done! LOL!
Yeah things are great, if I could just walk without pain and sleep I’d be golden.
So, February, bring it grrrl, let’s keep this ball rolling!!!
More happy news, Clive Owen and Naomi Watts were filming a movie on my block. Their trailers right outside my window. For those of you that know the Magic Treehouse you know that my bed is right there practically on the sidewalk. So does that mean we’ve “slept” together. Ok that’s reaching, but delightful dreaming none-the-less. LOL!
Then while walking Ms. Kayla on January 9th as I do every night when suddenly a cab pulled up on our familiar cross street. I then heard an accent not to be believed and when I turned around to see who the hillbilly was accosting my eardrums it was Mr. Clay Aiken. Dressed in white valour sweat pants and a blue hoodie. He was talking on his blue tooth and caring a white plastic bag with unknown contents. Then it happened he saw me seeing him and went, if you can believe it, 3 shades paler. I said, "Take it easy Skipper McGee!" (which is his Manhunt Screen Name-for those of you that don’t know Manhunt is a gay social sex network) That's when the pale burst into Rainbow Red and he scurried quickly into his Residential Suites Apt. I giggled all the way home!!
I wrote to Jonny McGovern the Gay Pimp, my favorite podcaster and told him the story, (since they are the ones that uncovered the Manhunt id name) he was thrilled that his little undercover gay baby “read” miss thing and turned it out for the Gay Pimping Crew. I am currently trying to get my friends Marc and Stephen to help me put out a podcast of our own. I think the format is so much fun and harkens back to the days of what was it called, oh yeah radio. On other creative fronts I am working on two theatre pieces one a dramatic interpretation of the 8min and 15sec LOST series run down currently posted on ABC.com for all those who need to catch up. Frankly, it’s genius and needs to be brought to life with interpretive dance. Then my cohorts in crime Chan Harris and Jacob Toth are working on a full musical production of a show destined to change the old, worn out face of Broadway, mark it people as soon as it’s written so will it be done! LOL!
Yeah things are great, if I could just walk without pain and sleep I’d be golden.
So, February, bring it grrrl, let’s keep this ball rolling!!!
To Be or Not To Be...(posted late due to lapse in memory, ie: I forgot I wrote it..)
It's a famous question one that we all must struggle with, some of find it easy to live and dread the darkness of death. Others long for the peace that comes in the silence. Heath Ledger now knows this stillness. Whether by accident or on purpose, only time will tell, he lies with the fishes as they say.
My world weary heart can barely stand it. This lose does not ring true in a breast still beating. It feels strange, out of sync, something that came too soon, something that could have easily well been a plot twist, to take the hero at the beginning of the story only to have his spirit restored and by the end the would be lovers reunited with bliss within their finger tips. Unfortunately, life isn't a script. No one dies in the arms of their true love on a street with no name. Heath didn't get his close up before he faded to black. He was alone, in his home, naked, in bed with pills scattered about his head. Nothing red carpet or glamorous about it. No flashing paparazzi, no Access Hollywood.
My mind still tries to understand why? Was it an accident? Was it on purpose? We may never know the truth. How unhappy could someone so talented be? Who seemed to have everything in his grasp. Sure a marriage that seemed to have failed, but a baby girl. Matilda, 2yrs old who will have to watch the 15 films her father was in to even glimpse the man he was or could have been. I know what it's like to hold on the shadows, memories, things that make up the child you were and the woman you become. How could he leave her? How could they leave me?
What's really weird is that I just watched Brokeback Mountain from stem to stern this weekend. I know, I know they could take my gay card away for waiting so long but, I had seen bits and pieces but not the full film in it's entirety. I thought that Heath whose character said so little verbally, but said so much was a mark of genius and pain. A dear friend gave me A Knight's Tale as a Christmas present. It's playing in the background as I write this rambling. Now we wait to see if the toxicology will tell us anything, does anyone know why Mary Kate Olsen is involved (random!!!) whatever the out come, I mourn the lose of someone so young and talented. Young people die everyday and it's sad and tragic across the board.
My world weary heart can barely stand it. This lose does not ring true in a breast still beating. It feels strange, out of sync, something that came too soon, something that could have easily well been a plot twist, to take the hero at the beginning of the story only to have his spirit restored and by the end the would be lovers reunited with bliss within their finger tips. Unfortunately, life isn't a script. No one dies in the arms of their true love on a street with no name. Heath didn't get his close up before he faded to black. He was alone, in his home, naked, in bed with pills scattered about his head. Nothing red carpet or glamorous about it. No flashing paparazzi, no Access Hollywood.
My mind still tries to understand why? Was it an accident? Was it on purpose? We may never know the truth. How unhappy could someone so talented be? Who seemed to have everything in his grasp. Sure a marriage that seemed to have failed, but a baby girl. Matilda, 2yrs old who will have to watch the 15 films her father was in to even glimpse the man he was or could have been. I know what it's like to hold on the shadows, memories, things that make up the child you were and the woman you become. How could he leave her? How could they leave me?
What's really weird is that I just watched Brokeback Mountain from stem to stern this weekend. I know, I know they could take my gay card away for waiting so long but, I had seen bits and pieces but not the full film in it's entirety. I thought that Heath whose character said so little verbally, but said so much was a mark of genius and pain. A dear friend gave me A Knight's Tale as a Christmas present. It's playing in the background as I write this rambling. Now we wait to see if the toxicology will tell us anything, does anyone know why Mary Kate Olsen is involved (random!!!) whatever the out come, I mourn the lose of someone so young and talented. Young people die everyday and it's sad and tragic across the board.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Man or Mouse?
Jeter on my Mind….
As I find myself in the year of our lord two thousand and eight a funny little man seems to be at every turn. On December 31, 2007 not feeling well at the start of the New Year, I fell asleep watching Michael Jeter in the movie, The Green Mile. His performance as Dell (Eduard Delacroix) the Cajun on death row for molestation is one that is so layered and seamless that you struggle with the way you feel for the character, ultimately society would have you wanting to see him fry. However to me he seems broken like a child’s toy and I always end up rooting for him and Mr. Jingles regardless of how futile. Something about wanting to be forgiven, to make things better or different, to maybe have made other choices seems to rest behind his eyes.
That night I dreamed of mice and friends, or was that friends that were mice I can’t remember? Then while performing my morning ritual of coffee and playbill.com in my Jew cube. I’m reading Seth Rudetsky’s end of the year column when I stumble upon a Jeter reference while Seth was interviewing Tommy Tune (see below):
I asked him about that brilliant number he created for Michael Jeter in Grand Hotel. He said that they couldn't find someone to play the role of Kringelein and Tommy remembered seeing Michael play a door mouse opposite Meryl Streep in the Public Theater's Alice in Wonderland. He tracked him down and turns out Michael was working as a secretary in a law firm. Tommy brought him in and at the audition Michael Jeter told everybody that he didn't sing. Tommy wanted to know if that meant that he had never sung, or if he was literally tone deaf, so he had Michael match different pitches…which he was able to do. Tommy sat with him onstage and said he should sing something really simple for everyone and held his hand. He remembers Michael's hand shaking terribly as he sang, but he got through it. Of course, his acting in the audition scenes was brilliant and he was cast. But, Tommy forgot to ask him to dance. He said he likes to see how everyone can dance at an audition, just in case it's needed somewhere. Well, one day during rehearsals, Michael was holding himself on the bar (drinking bar, not ballet) and making his body do these crazy Raggedy Andy/spineless/no-bones-in-his-body moves. Tommy saw it, loved it and made it the basis for "We'll Take a Glass Together."
I can’t believe he wasn’t a dancer or singer!
In bold are the parts that struck me most….again with the mouse, secretary, never sang or danced in front of people. Needless to say the clip gives me goose bumps and fills me with such joy and optimism that I can barely contain the tuna sandwich I had for lunch.
Jeter had gone to school for medicine and switch to acting and became a character actor of the finest order. I just keep thinking about him winning the Tony for Grand Hotel and performing that number night after night. Then I find myself crying for no apparent reason other than the world seems a little dimmer with out him.
Showtime is running Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit on Friday Night, I have a date to watch my “mousey” friend kick up a fuss.
Remember kids joy is where you find it. So if your life is lacking and you need just that little something extra to help you through your day and remind you why you're here in the first place take a look around. You just might find an enormous heart wrapped in a tiny package.
As I find myself in the year of our lord two thousand and eight a funny little man seems to be at every turn. On December 31, 2007 not feeling well at the start of the New Year, I fell asleep watching Michael Jeter in the movie, The Green Mile. His performance as Dell (Eduard Delacroix) the Cajun on death row for molestation is one that is so layered and seamless that you struggle with the way you feel for the character, ultimately society would have you wanting to see him fry. However to me he seems broken like a child’s toy and I always end up rooting for him and Mr. Jingles regardless of how futile. Something about wanting to be forgiven, to make things better or different, to maybe have made other choices seems to rest behind his eyes.
That night I dreamed of mice and friends, or was that friends that were mice I can’t remember? Then while performing my morning ritual of coffee and playbill.com in my Jew cube. I’m reading Seth Rudetsky’s end of the year column when I stumble upon a Jeter reference while Seth was interviewing Tommy Tune (see below):
I asked him about that brilliant number he created for Michael Jeter in Grand Hotel. He said that they couldn't find someone to play the role of Kringelein and Tommy remembered seeing Michael play a door mouse opposite Meryl Streep in the Public Theater's Alice in Wonderland. He tracked him down and turns out Michael was working as a secretary in a law firm. Tommy brought him in and at the audition Michael Jeter told everybody that he didn't sing. Tommy wanted to know if that meant that he had never sung, or if he was literally tone deaf, so he had Michael match different pitches…which he was able to do. Tommy sat with him onstage and said he should sing something really simple for everyone and held his hand. He remembers Michael's hand shaking terribly as he sang, but he got through it. Of course, his acting in the audition scenes was brilliant and he was cast. But, Tommy forgot to ask him to dance. He said he likes to see how everyone can dance at an audition, just in case it's needed somewhere. Well, one day during rehearsals, Michael was holding himself on the bar (drinking bar, not ballet) and making his body do these crazy Raggedy Andy/spineless/no-bones-in-his-body moves. Tommy saw it, loved it and made it the basis for "We'll Take a Glass Together."
I can’t believe he wasn’t a dancer or singer!
In bold are the parts that struck me most….again with the mouse, secretary, never sang or danced in front of people. Needless to say the clip gives me goose bumps and fills me with such joy and optimism that I can barely contain the tuna sandwich I had for lunch.
Jeter had gone to school for medicine and switch to acting and became a character actor of the finest order. I just keep thinking about him winning the Tony for Grand Hotel and performing that number night after night. Then I find myself crying for no apparent reason other than the world seems a little dimmer with out him.
Showtime is running Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit on Friday Night, I have a date to watch my “mousey” friend kick up a fuss.
Remember kids joy is where you find it. So if your life is lacking and you need just that little something extra to help you through your day and remind you why you're here in the first place take a look around. You just might find an enormous heart wrapped in a tiny package.
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