light reddish brown

so I haven't colored my hair or gotten it cut since... um... a few weeks before my wedding?  in April?  even in the dim bathroom light of the Days Inn last week I could see the gray amid the dark roots, and my hair has been gradually becoming more and more of it's own animal.  I finally gave in and called my salon this afternoon, and scheduled an appointment to tame the beast tomorrow - then I realized that, unless I addressed my hair color issue, they'd totally try to talk me into color.  which, I will confess, the cheapskate in me simply can't allow, not when there are perfectly good boxes of Loreal Preference Light Reddish Brown in my bathroom that cost $8.99.  

I first colored in college - I'm pretty sure it was for a play - and have since been every shade of auburn, some shades of brown, and one Snow White-esque black.  with my pale pale skin, I looked like a vampire.  I also seem to remember some in my family making fun of my colorings... which were never really crazy colors... and now most of them have their own favorite boxes.  my mom's haircolor is way edgier than mine.... in fact, I sort of take pride in the fact that my haircolor-in-a-box skills are so good that most people who've known me forever are convinced that I'm a redhead (for the record, when I was little my hair was totally auburn).  anyway, I love haircolor.  it's like reinventing yourself just a little bit every time. and here I sit, freshly colored and with a pep in my step I didn't have before.  I forgot how powerful taking care of yourself can be.  that could sound shallow, given that I'm talking about hair color in a box, but whatever blows your skirt up and mine is UP.

home sweet home

Coming back from Dallas late last Friday was like getting to take off your pants and put on sweats after eating too much at a buffet.  I made my way back down 45, marathon-ing podcasts to make the miles pass faster, walked into my house around 10pm, and 'hhaaaaahhhh'... breathed the breath that only happens when you come home to your safe space.  The house looked so good to me - and we've been through so much with this place that those words, that sentiment, means a great deal.  My sweet husband had dinner ready... baked chicken, cheesy bacony crispy-smashed new potatoes, asparagus with a bit of butter.  The food was a drug... when I'm away recording for hours on end every day, I tend to feed on Luna bars, english muffins with honey, soup in a box (better than it sounds!), microwave popcorn, trail mix, the occasional string cheese and triscuit, and whatever else is easily transported from hotel room to studio to studio throughout the day.  So I stuffed myself with my husband's substantial food love offering, as well as a bowl of brownie and ice cream the dear man brought me.  And then we did what any newlywed couple who've been away from each other for four days would do... we laid intertwined on the sofa and hit the DVR to catch up on So You Think You Can Dance.  That Cat Deely is the best show host ever and Mary Murphy absolutely slays me.    

The next morning, while I was helping to throw a baby shower for a friend, my renter called to let me know that last week's storms had split one of the trees by the house, and limbs were hanging precariously.  A shot of anxiety up my spine... the pressure to diagnose the situation, find the solution, find a good tree-man offering a good deal, address everything asap like a good homeowner, etc.  Then I had a second thought - 'Call your husband.  Ask for help.'  Asking for help began as "Honey, I'm headed to the house after the shower - can you find me a couple of Tree Guys to call?" and ended as, "Yes, I would love it if you could go over there as soon as you can and check it out."  The next thing I knew, the issue was addressed, a reliable Tree Guy was called, and everything was copacetic by  lunchtime.  For a girl whose been single and independent for such a long time, who'd sooner walk a mile in flip flops than ask for or rely on others for a ride, having a husband like mine and learning to share my life with him is one of the best and most gratitude-inducing things that's ever happened to me.  Oh, and to smack the cherry on top of my gratitude, he went and made us the most decadent lunch ever... crunchy fish sticks with shells and cheese.  served in a fish plate (see awesome photo that begins this blog).  The third grader in me was in heaven and had to take a nap afterward. 

Other things I thought upon my return home:

My cat has never had it so good... hubby plays with her as if she's a kitten and, after living outside for so long - because I always had housemates that were allergic to cats - she happily basks in the attention.

My dog is happy.  He can be sensitive, and has been known to not eat when I leave town.  I used to hire housesitters to stay at my house and take care of him, but now that he always has a 'parent' around he just seems to be a happier and better adjusted animal.  I've had these babies for a looong time... my cat is over 13, my dog will BE 13 in September... and I'm grateful that my husband is such a good dad to them.  

In short, we're all a great deal better off since meeting this man.

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Snaps to me for baking both banana bread AND a strawberry blueberry cobbler yesterday afternoon.

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I'm incredibly thankful for my experience with 12 stepping.  I'm convinced that most, if not all people would benefit greatly from program precepts, and the people I know who're walking in recovery blow my mind with their wisdom, general happiness, stability, sanity, and serenity... some of the other attributes I appreciate most in meetings are the spoken honesty, humility of spirit, and the respect and acceptance that is shown people regardless of their situation.  In those rooms, there is freedom from judgement - not only feeling the acceptance of others in the room toward me, but being free to accept them in turn without inner comment or comparison.  Which is rare.  As one older woman likes to say..."No one in this room will ever want me to fail."  And it's that palpable spirit that keeps so many of us coming back - to put one foot in front of the other toward spiritual progress, to drink in the support and gratitude that comes from shared experience and struggle and total freedom to be who we are.  My therapist once said that AA is what the church should be, and I understand what she meant.  I was lucky - I had a therapist, a supportive church and immediate family, a job with plenty of money... I've become aware of situations of those battling addictions who have no hope, no faith, no self-respect, no desire, no concept of how to live without a drug or a drink... I cannot imagine how they will find recovery, but I pray that somehow God leads them toward freedom.  I am so grateful to God for His goodness to me.

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Bitterness is grody, and thinking negatively about people turns my insides into a nasty blender of thoughts and emotions that, frustratingly, a part of me really enjoys.  I can literally conjure drama and feed on it, get completely pissed off and use the pets as my audience to really tell off so-and-so... gross.  I feel the poison of it, and I know it intellectually, but it can be a hard emotional habit to break.  God, help me think the best when I can and when I can't... to detach, do the next right thing, and let people off the hook.  

now to walk the walk...

workin'...

Husband just sent me a link to an AV interview with Billy West, a prolific professional voice actor.  wow.  knowing what I know and coming from my limited experience, a couple of thoughts came to mind:

1.  I sincerely admire actors like Billy who can move in and out of voices/sounds at the speed of light.  it's such a valuable skill set.  I can't really do that... I'm not a 'cartoony' VA per se, in the sense that I can trot out my Donald Duck and Bart Simpson at the drop of a hat.  I think I work a lot because I have a pretty large vocal range and control, I know how to read well, and I'm fast and easy to work with.  that goes a long way.  plus, because I currently work a lot in dubbing, the ability to match flaps helps enormously.

*side not on the 'cartoony' voice thing... fairly recently, I got to interact with a guy from Los Angeles at a voice audition.  it went sort of like this:

LA guy: "lemme hear your boy voice."

me: "what?"

LA guy: "just do your boy voice."

me "um, I don't really have a stock 'boy voice', like a Bart Simpson or something.  I voice a lot of boys but I'm mostly asked to do more realistic-sounding boys.  If you give me some adjectives and tell me what you're looking for, I can try to match it."

LA guy:  blink.  "oh.  okay."

this exchange happened after he benignly asked me if I knew anything about acting... further cementing in my mind the opinion that a lot, not all, but a lot of people who live in LA are under the misconception that living on the California coast makes you both talented and a professional.  and who knows... in a different world with a different bank account ten years ago, I probably would have ended up in LA or NY (NY was totally first choice) and might have grown some ego about geography, too.  but it is what it is, and here I am - a full-time actor working in Texas.  I get having to explain and defend the viability and professionalism of my business to the average Joe... it can be annoying, but understandable... so I'm super-annoyed at defending it to industry peers.

2.  A question was put to Billy, who's done a lot of commercial work in addition to animation, etc., something to the effect of, "is doing commercial work in your industry considered selling out?"    what in the world... I've heard this sentiment expressed before, and for the life of me it's mystifying.  sometimes the artist's work is about art.  but at some point it usually becomes about making money using your skill, and commercial work is one of the few genres that is a) fairly steady opportunity-wise, because businesses always need to market themselves on tv, radio, internet, print, etc, and b) the commercial contract is one of the few you have a shot at getting that may have residual income.  why do you supposed Sarah Jessica Parker hawks hair color?  or why Catherine Zeta Jones tried to sell you T-Mobile?  or why you'll hear James Earl Jones' voice on your tv until he dies?  I'm confused as to why making an honest advertising buck equals selling out... everyone's just trying to make a living.  how terribly unglamorous and un-artsy!  meh.

  

I have to get to work, but here are a few other observations about what I currently do for fun and money:

I love working for myself.  even when I had day jobs, I enjoyed being a contract employee for the freedom it gave me.  I love the changeable hours and different projects, and I like working with lots of people for bits of time.  something in my nature resists the structure of a 9-5 and working for other people.

It's a great day when a paycheck intersects with an acting challenge.

I've been very, very blessed.  and this career is now helping husband and I achieve our goals.  

people are intrigued by this industry... so you get questions like, "are you working on anything new?" or "have you had any new auditions lately?"  here is my job:  I audition for things, all the time.  sometimes I'm hired.  sometimes I'm not.  I don't much talk about it, either way, because this is what it's always like and it's... well, you just keep auditioning and working and moving forward and paying bills.  it's a job with revolving clients that come and go.

and one other thing:  for whatever reason, I don't really put people on pedestals.  like celebrities... take Oprah.  I honestly believe the adoration shown that woman is weird... or actors, or singers.  it's not that I don't think successful people should be shown respect... I believe very much in that concept.  and I remember feeling that sort of celeb love... the new version of Annie was on tv the other day, and I was telling hubby about my LOVE of Aileen Quinn, the original Annie.  I wanted to be just like her - got the wig, the dress, the whole bit.  I read all about her in Teen Beat, and desperately wanted a 'pink and red pre-teen dream' bedroom like she apparently had.  but somewhere along the way I stopped looking at people in the limelight in that romanticized way.  maybe I'm kidding myself and I'd turn into mush if... oh, who would I freak out about?... see.  I can't even think of anyone. 

first blogging...

so this is my first post here.  I confess, there's a part of me that's totally uncomfortable with the whole online journalling thing.  mostly because, let's face it, a lot of things we might feel like writing about might best be kept to ourselves or shared with an understanding face over the phone or a cup of coffee.  as soon as you put things down in type, it becomes a statement of something, you know?  I mean, unless you're just writing update-esque blogs, general keeping-up-with-people listings... which I sort of did on my myspace blog.  but sometimes what I really want to write about is totally opinionated and silly and most definitely feeling-not-fact.  which is scary territory, because then you run the risk of sounding like moany, whiny, dissatisfied, therapy girl... a shallow step up from the awesomely uncomfortable writings of the Young and Sensitive.  but I would like a place to put some things down... yes, I actually believe there's a Place for the semi-sloppy and largely un-edited sentiments of the Sensitive (which explains my love of Her Space Holiday... and by 'un-edited' I mean in honesty of expression, not spelling and grammar.  yikes, do a search or something.  and as I write that I note my rebellious penchant for not capitalizing the first letter of sentences at times.  let the riddle begin.)

so the point... the point is that I hope to be able to write here.  I'm not entirely sure it'll catch on for me, but we'll see.  and I hope to not lose any cool points with my husband... I think he's personally skeptical of people putting their private thoughts and feelings on display.  and I feel that!  seriously, why trot your stuff out for judgement and/or attention?!  but things are changing, technology is molding us, and my attempts to write longhand in journals petered off long ago.  I actually found some old journals from college/post when I was moving, and read through some of it.  ACK!!  such emotional pourings-forth!  such drama and chaos and idealism on display!  I know it was my truth at the time and I'm all about the journey we take... but I felt so removed from that time and that person, and really thankful to be in the now.  I certainly didn't want anyone else to ever read something so personal.  so I burned them all... I'd actually burned some others a couple of years before, and now they're all gone.  maybe that sounds overly dramatic, or sad.  but I'm not defined by them, and I don't need to keep everything to remember where I've been.  I want to keep things around that help me now, that keep me moving onward and upward.  anyway, there it is.  I hope things go well here.  some random thoughts for today:

- I note a selfishness in me that isn't very pretty.  I want to be a better wife to my sweet husband.  I see that he does a LOT of serving of others and filling needs... I want to learn from him and serve him better.

- I miss working out.  and it's bothersome that my will doesn't seem to be strong enough to force my body into motion on a regular basis.

- It seems as though I've never felt more scattered in my life.  that's probably not true, but it feels true.

- I would like to straighten up the guestroom today, stretch or work out a little, plan dinner for my husband, and get mentally prepared to spend the rest of the week in Dallas.  I just got word that I'm getting 4 more episodes to write by the 1st... which is fantastic for our debt snowball, but potentially challenging for my psyche.  thank you, Lord, for work!  help me to have the presence of mind and spirit to do it well and with grace!

- it's a good prayer:  God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.