Powerless

I was in a six month battle with my insurance company and dentist over who was going to pay my $170 cleaning fee, and the answer is me. It upset me so much, so deeply. I had already worked out, but I went on another run trying desperately to shake the bad feeling. Replaying the condescending receptionist's tone over and over in my head. Toiling over aggressions I could launch at either company. But ultimately the truth is I am Powerless. Left the insurance company, not returning to the dentist. We like to believe we care when a business loses us, but they don't. Corporations want us to feel like they're our family but treat us like strangers. It's 5 PM and I'm still upset. I went to my coffee shop and wrote and had a development meeting and watched the new episodes of Bojack Horseman and texted a couple friends. But this heavy vest of Powerlessness won't leave me be. It also makes me want to cry. It makes me want to yell and cry at once. Perhaps I am mad to be unimportant and sad to be unsafe. Cheated as a rule follower because following rules is supposed to grant us power and it doesn't.

I started an online artists' business class. It is expensive, but the alum list is impressive enough and I was recently rejected enough to try it. Class Two was yesterday. There's a clear split in the class: people who really don't know their focus who will take this year to work hard at Something and people who know their focus and have already been working hard but now have to wait for Something else to happen. I'm always writing, so there's that, but I'm still in Camp Two. I watched an NYC actor practically implode explaining, "How can sit here and make a goal that by this time next year I will have booked two co-star parts when I can't even control when or if I get auditions?" I am in this second camp. The teacher says we only have about 5% control in this industry, which even I think is pessimistic, but, sure kinda. And yes, maybe that actor could write and film a short that gets her more attention. Or maybe she already did and it didn't help. Or maybe she's a bad writer, and it would be so bad her reps would drop her. To her someone saying, "Well you can always do more" is not so empowering. It's depressing. There is freedom to giving into the Powerlessness. It makes the failures or lack of opportunity less personal. You did your best vs. you can always be better.

Cat Calls

On Thanksgiving, my sister and I were on a walk, and she tweeted something I said to the effect of, "I hope Obama doesn't fix the jobs act soon because the bums calling me beautiful on the way to school is necessary to my self-esteem." I was kidding, but only kind of. Because in my short fifteen minute bike ride I usually get at least one cat call of some kind. I really have no idea why this is. I really don't understand cat calls--especially to girls on bikes.

A couple weeks ago, Ro and I were on a walk when a guy screamed out of his speeding car, "YOU'RE HOTT." I yelled in mock desperation, "Wait! Come back! If you love us, why would you leave us!?" And the car paused a couple blocks up, and we panicked before realizing there was a stop sign.

It's like...what's the purpose? It's not an actual pick-up. Is it some kind of hope to exert an uncomfortable power? To make women feel victimized for no real reason? It's not earnest. 80% of the time I'm on my bike I'm sweating my face off. And, as a strong, independent female, how does one react? I usually show I'm not intimidated and say "thank you" as I whiz by. Does this encourage that behavior? Is random yelling at women "Good morning, gorgeous" offensive in the first place? Because maybe it's not.

Today on my way to work I was stopped at a big intersection with lots of cars and people all around. A man jogged right in front of me as the crosswalk was blinking a red hand. He yelled out, "WOO! I MADE IT." And I smiled at him, because we should celebrate just making lights. He turned to me and boomed so allllll could hear: "Oh. My. GOD. You are BEAUTIFUL." Since I didn't have the security of motion, and all these people were watching, I blushed down at the ground, and put up my palm.

Immediately, a thunderous, "THAT WAS A COMPLIMENT. I'M NOT HITTING ON YOU. GET OVER YOURSELF."

And you betcha I felt victimized for no reason. And I bore a hole into the asphalt under my front tire, and I took off like a rocket when I got that green.

Getting Small

Things keep getting smaller.
I am aware of this, but
I am also powerless
to theses things that expand--wait--no, it's not things keep getting smaller.
It's that I do.
And my things do.
Because things keep getting bigger
actually.
And crowding out
things
that now feel so small.

Easter place setting. 2012.

Meanwhile, there's a meat industry.

Also, meanwhile,

I just want to sing "Call Me Maybe" on repeat.

Maybe have an all "Call Me Maybe" aerobic funk jazzercise class.

Before you came into my life I missed you so bad.

I missed you so bad.

I missed you so so bad.