Wednesday, April 27, 2016


Up. Had the audacity to have a Pepsi at 6. Duh...

This came out of a cashier's mouth my last night on the job. She's kind of cute on the outside and she knows it: "You wouldn't expect it of someone who looks like me, but I was taking 12th grade literature classes in 8th grade."

The initial phrase was repeated, with self (selfish) affirmation, that not only in fact did she have beauty, but she had brainnnnnnzzzzzz.

You wouldn't expect it. Of the supermodel who works at anonymous department store. Hey, if you were really that smart, wouldn't you keep your conceit to yourself? Or get a job that pays a higher wage? Because that's what I've done, and everyone knows I am the biggest village idiot at said anonymous department store. I do feel bad about leaving, but realistically, I will be replaced by another body, hopefully this time someone more competent. I felt like a number every time I would punch in, Les Miserables ringing in my head: do not forget me, 24601. Look down, look down. You're here until you die...

I may be working until I die at this rate. And as much as I am socially phobic I did enjoy working my booty off. Literally, my pants have started sagging because I lost weight on the job. I also gained a greater sense of who I am, and what I want to be doing with my life.

In short, I need to be performing in some fashion or I will never be happy. That's part of why I moved back, there are opportunities here that I could not find elsewhere. And I enjoy taking in artistic events perhaps more than even participating in them. My friends are also here, and they encourage me. Whether it's an (unrealized) attempt at auditioning for Opera Idaho or being an extra in a short film, the possibilities are right in front of me. I just need to have the courage to reach out.

Courage is hard to come by when you've been diagnosed with three different types of anxiety. Everyday life can be dautnting, and as with all people, I have good days and bad days. But I'm determined to make the good outnumber the bad in any way that I can. Call my foray into retail immersion therapy, if you will. Something that I simultaneously dreaded and needed. Because what is life, besides a learning experience?

You wouldn't expect it of someone who acts like me, but I majored in the arts in college. Even somehow wrangled a decent GPA while participating in various plays and musical productions. That's right ma. I've got braaaaiinnnzzzz. I still sing opera in the car. I geek out over composers. I love theatre and film, and even made the recent discovery that I adore ballet. I have friends who are musicians, writers, filmmakers, thespians, and comedians. I sing, and I act. More consistently, I write.

I am an artist. It's the repressed ones you have to look out for.