Embarrassment takes a back seat

Hey everyone.  It’s me again…about a year later.   There was a bunch of things that happened between the last time I touched this website/posted a podcast/added a video.  Things like:

  • Moving to San Diego
  • Living in San Diego for literally 2 weeks then getting a job offer from NYC
  • Moving from San Diego to NYC on the company’s dime
  • Living in NYC for a month then moving again to New Jersey (NYC was a temp apartment)
  • Starting a new job
  • Getting to know new people at said job
  • Adjusting to the fact that NYC back in 2008 is not the same now (well, duh)
  • Dealing with a crappy X-Files season
  • Finding out that I have thyroid condition
  • Dealing with depression and not telling anybody about it
  • Being ashamed about being depressed
  • Giving up all creative pursuits because of it
  • Getting help
  • Getting back into my creative pursuits
  • Finding out that my website had deleted it myself
  • Yelling at the website people because they are dumb
  • Rebuilding this website
  • Deciding what I can and cannot write (see: admitting depression on a public forum)

So, here’s the deal.  All my life, I’ve been told what I should be embarrassed about.  I should be embarrassed that I have big boobs. I should be embarrassed that I’m not a size 2.  I should be embarrassed about having depression.  Being embarrassed that I’m loud.  Don’t talk about politics. Don’t talk about religion.  Don’t talk about personal stuff.  Don’t talk about this, that and the other thing.  What was left was generic posts about pop culture.   As much as I love pop culture (and I LOVE pop culture) I really wanted to talk about something real and real stuff is embarrassing.

At the root of it, I feel deep down in my bones that I am a creative person.  I always have been.  I wrote and drew short stories for my younger sister about “The Rabbit Family.”  I have always kept online journals (hi there livejournal.com and diaryland.com!).  I have made music videos, radio shows, short stories, scripts and beginnings of novels.  I always thought that I would be doing something creative in my future and hopefully, getting paid for it.

Right now, I’m a creative person wearing a technical suit.  That is, I work in Media and Technology (I capitalized it to make it feel and seem important, but it’s not).   So a lot of my colleagues after college know me as very technical but before my first full time job with health benefits, my friends knew me as a creative person.  I was the person in Chemistry class who theorized that problem with the formula is that the scientist forgot to put the lid on the canister (a classmate piped up “What is this, Creative Writing?”…professor said “Well, she has a point”.) <—-by the way, I have no idea where to put the period. In the parenthesis? Out of the parenthesis? It looks wrong to me either way—>  Or the time my history teach said to write about the war and I wrote about the great war of the white blood cells fighting against the cold infection (he wasn’t specific…)  Or the time I was asked to write a paper about schizophrenia and I asked if I could do a PSA instead and did this silly video where I show the symptoms and accidentally broke my mom’s china.  Whoops.  I was also a broke ass in high school and college, so as presents I made my cards or presented video birthday montages to my bffs.  I always thought I would be doing something like this.

But, I’m not.  I’m here.  Working and not being creative.  In fact, I work FOR the creatives.  As I work for the creatives, I look dreamily that one day, that will be me and I struggle with the idea if it’s even possible.

So, in the meantime, I will be doing this.  As for the title of embarrassment, I’m going to stop giving myself restrictions about what I can and cannot say.  I’m going to write shit that I, myself, would like to read — real stories about real shit whether it makes me look good or not.   This decision was…uh, decided, two-fold :

Fold 1 — I was watching an episode of Crashing and in one of the first episodes, Pete (the main character) was trying his stand-up.  While funny, it was generic.  His mother says “but where’s your voice?” and that spoke to me.  Where is MY voice? Where it the truth?  Truth is I like blue humor, I like to swear and I have opinions but always afraid of offending somebody. No longer. This is my site, I say what I want. God help me.

Fold 2 — Upon coming out of my depression, a friend of mine told me she listened to a podcast of mine and LOVED it.  In fact, I have always gotten good feedback on my podcasts.  I had a love / hate relationship with it because I hate my voice (but I think most people do, for some reason) and because…who do I think I am with my dumbass opinions?  So, I listened to two podcasts.  It had been so long since I had listened to it, I forgot what me and my guest had talked about and I was laughing at my own shit.  Then I told my boyfriend “Yo…I think I’m actually kind of funny!  Where do I come up with this stuff?” and my boyfriend said “Yes, this is why you have funny friends…because you are funny yourself.  You can be hysterical.”  There was longer conversation about that but that’s for another post.

So, it’s time to stop beating myself up about stuff and just start being real, like the real world (true story!) but actually real.  I think the Real World is not that real. Not anymore anyway.  So, embarrassment, go sit back there in the back seat, will ya?

……and away we go!