If I Don't Make Fun of Myself, Who Will? or What a Difference an Essay Makes
Here I was. On my morning hike. Having all of these crazy epiphanies, all ready to share them. And then I had a good day. Which was far more exciting than the epiphanies. Well, not really. I mean, the epiphanies last longer. Or at least they're supposed to last. That would suck if they didn't. Well, just in case, I'll share one.
I was watching this thing on 60 Minutes last night about how most of the people who buy lottery tickets are people on welfare because they want out of their situation so desperately and they don't know how to get out. The controversy is that we're paying for them to gamble and yada yada yada. So my epiphany had to do with the fact that in the last five years I have bought lottery tickets. I never did before. I also went to clairvoyants and astrologers and healers and yeah... you get where I'm going with this. Getting hope from these people was important. Feeling confident that it would all turn out was important. BUT so was finding a solution and a different strategy myself. All on my own. I kind of forgot about that part.
I realized I was so lost, I started listening to everyone else but myself. And you know, myself used to get me where I wanted to go. Myself taught me alot. And learned from my mistakes before because I made the choices that caused the mistakes. I created the strategies that made them and got me out of them. When the strategy is coming from somewhere else, there's no accountability for the mistake. There's no rethinking it. Which is bad. Instead, you (or in this case, me) just go back to being lost and sad and make more mistakes. I'm kind of over that now. I've been retreating lately -- while posting my stories-- and been working on a new strategy.
What is this strategy you may ask yourself? So far, it's this: I will still make fun of myself. After all, if I don't, who will? I will still write. And maybe, just maybe, even continue to write on the blog. Depending on whether or not I have something worthwhile to say. Not that it's really stopped me before. I can pontificate about air. I know. I also know I could write about celebrities and that would make me popular in the blog community. But I don't like celebrities. I could also write about beauty. But the only thing I like to write about beauty-wise is how interesting it is to me that so many people care so much about products or fixing their problems but not preventing them (Note to people with hyperpigmentation: it took a lot of time to get your skin looking that way. It's going to take a lot of time to fix it. And sunscreen. You have to wear sunscreen. Skin lighteners make your skin sensitive to sun aka you can do more damage. So. Sunscreen. They even wrote a song about it).
That all being said. I got lots of amazing calls and emails from people who read my article. They didn't miss the jokes that weren't there. They just liked it. It's fun when people like it. It's fun to get calls.
I leave tomorrow for Boston. Then, Virginia and Washington D.C. I'm kind of excited. I've gotten over the fact that Boscia is paying me late. A month and a half late. That I traveled last month to have money to pay my bills and then... no money. Which is when I was negative. Which would NEVER have happened if Caren was still there. But a lesson I learned from working in publicity for Samantha-- a woman who treated me bad in the beginning, during and after the whole situation-- that people who treat you poorly will always treat you poorly. And if they pay you late once, they will always pay you late-- and not care, be it for their own sakes or to prove a point. Whatever. I do find humor now in the fact that I have to leave town to keep my place here. But truthfully, being gone has been better for me than being home. Home wasn't working for me. Now, it is. But still. I get to see my friend Emily in Virginia. And Sam'n. A publicist who worked for me and the evil one (Samantha). She's great. And married now. No longer publicizing. God bless her.
And God Bless Kelly... for covering the rent until I'm paid. And Kristine... for covering my bills until I'm paid. And Romy for putting $100 in my account without question or comment so I wasn't negative. And my mother... for getting it. To John for beating me up. To Kate, for not letting me beat myself up. And the random guy on the plane for being random but prescient. And speaking to me. And me... for finally being able to say this: Yes, I did used to write for "The Drew Carey Show." But that was the past.
I was watching this thing on 60 Minutes last night about how most of the people who buy lottery tickets are people on welfare because they want out of their situation so desperately and they don't know how to get out. The controversy is that we're paying for them to gamble and yada yada yada. So my epiphany had to do with the fact that in the last five years I have bought lottery tickets. I never did before. I also went to clairvoyants and astrologers and healers and yeah... you get where I'm going with this. Getting hope from these people was important. Feeling confident that it would all turn out was important. BUT so was finding a solution and a different strategy myself. All on my own. I kind of forgot about that part.
I realized I was so lost, I started listening to everyone else but myself. And you know, myself used to get me where I wanted to go. Myself taught me alot. And learned from my mistakes before because I made the choices that caused the mistakes. I created the strategies that made them and got me out of them. When the strategy is coming from somewhere else, there's no accountability for the mistake. There's no rethinking it. Which is bad. Instead, you (or in this case, me) just go back to being lost and sad and make more mistakes. I'm kind of over that now. I've been retreating lately -- while posting my stories-- and been working on a new strategy.
What is this strategy you may ask yourself? So far, it's this: I will still make fun of myself. After all, if I don't, who will? I will still write. And maybe, just maybe, even continue to write on the blog. Depending on whether or not I have something worthwhile to say. Not that it's really stopped me before. I can pontificate about air. I know. I also know I could write about celebrities and that would make me popular in the blog community. But I don't like celebrities. I could also write about beauty. But the only thing I like to write about beauty-wise is how interesting it is to me that so many people care so much about products or fixing their problems but not preventing them (Note to people with hyperpigmentation: it took a lot of time to get your skin looking that way. It's going to take a lot of time to fix it. And sunscreen. You have to wear sunscreen. Skin lighteners make your skin sensitive to sun aka you can do more damage. So. Sunscreen. They even wrote a song about it).
That all being said. I got lots of amazing calls and emails from people who read my article. They didn't miss the jokes that weren't there. They just liked it. It's fun when people like it. It's fun to get calls.
I leave tomorrow for Boston. Then, Virginia and Washington D.C. I'm kind of excited. I've gotten over the fact that Boscia is paying me late. A month and a half late. That I traveled last month to have money to pay my bills and then... no money. Which is when I was negative. Which would NEVER have happened if Caren was still there. But a lesson I learned from working in publicity for Samantha-- a woman who treated me bad in the beginning, during and after the whole situation-- that people who treat you poorly will always treat you poorly. And if they pay you late once, they will always pay you late-- and not care, be it for their own sakes or to prove a point. Whatever. I do find humor now in the fact that I have to leave town to keep my place here. But truthfully, being gone has been better for me than being home. Home wasn't working for me. Now, it is. But still. I get to see my friend Emily in Virginia. And Sam'n. A publicist who worked for me and the evil one (Samantha). She's great. And married now. No longer publicizing. God bless her.
And God Bless Kelly... for covering the rent until I'm paid. And Kristine... for covering my bills until I'm paid. And Romy for putting $100 in my account without question or comment so I wasn't negative. And my mother... for getting it. To John for beating me up. To Kate, for not letting me beat myself up. And the random guy on the plane for being random but prescient. And speaking to me. And me... for finally being able to say this: Yes, I did used to write for "The Drew Carey Show." But that was the past.
posted by jodypwrites | 4:11 PM
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