Month: July 2016

Vacuum

All I wanted to do was clean with as much impressive vigor as I could possibly muster. But this vacuum… it had so many little moving parts. I happily managed to vacuum the carpets of the house, but I needed to get the corners and crevices. I stared at the hose, pulled out the nozzle from the back of the cleaner, and pressed on a button with a “hose” symbol….

No suction came out of that hose.

Why wasn’t this working?

I stared at the couch and wondered if I could just lift the entire vacuum all the way up onto the couch… but … no… it won’t reach all the crevices in between the cushions.

I tugged and pulled and this pipe, and that brush thing, and looked for the button I was so clearly missing. I tried again.

No suction.

Joaquin was at work and we are leaving in a few days on our first week-long trip together. He likes to keep the house clean and in good, comfortable condition when leaving so that we can return without feeling stressed.

He is right. I am easily stressed. And so I agree! A clean house would be a delightful thing to return to after a five hour flight! Let us clean the house together!

You see, because I am between sources of hourly income right now– all four part-time jobs put on Summer pause… I choose to do my part in the house, something I don’t normally get to do too much of because I’m always… always… ALWAYS.. working.

But, you see, this was my choice. I chose the noble path of “following my dreams” because “It’s not about the money, it’s about what I get to do.” I put a lot of time, money, and effort into being able to live a life that is fulfilling, does not leave me sitting at a desk, and adds to my wheelhouse of all sorts of life experience! I’m a performer, an educator, a comedian, a singer, and a community outreach activist! I have three hundred dollars to my name right now! Aren’t you PROUD?

 

The clock showed there was about forty five minutes until he returned home and I wanted to show that I could be good at cleaning. I could be domestic.

But I can’t figure out this goddamn vacuum.

I can see that this little curved end of the hose is meant to lock into something… it’s not a nozzle… or the stretchy- extendable pipe thingy that helps you clean ceilings.

Is there a name for that?… Whatever, it’s stretchy- extendable pipe thingy now.

I push another button. Still. No. Suction.

A bead of sweat starts to trickle down my mid back as it nears noon and the house is growing hot. It’s supposed to get up to ninety degrees today… Good thing I went for a run in the early morning! I always try to run in the morning because it helps me stay goal oriented for the rest of the day. Nothing balances out a stressed out mind like a good cardiovascular workout!

Why. is. there. no. suction?

I have a degree… I am a feminist…. I believe in equal pay for equal work… I preach body positivity… I believe that I am just as smart as any man AND I CANT FIGURE OUT THIS VACUUM CLEANER.

I could wait for Joaquin to get home and help me but that would make me a failure. I would have to sit and watch him do exactly what needs to be done in 1.6 seconds while I hang my head in shame, looking dumbfounded. I can’t change a tire, I can’t remember the names of all the actors in any movie except for ‘Titanic,’ I can’t eat grilled cheese without getting heartburn, and I can’t properly vacuum my damn house.

 

 

Look, I never played with legos as a child. I never dug around in the dirt! I never really learned how to use a computer. I can’t memorize the years of important events in history. I never received any praise for taking things apart and putting them back together again… I was told to put on pretty dresses and stand there and sing songs because that’s what young ladies do…

 

Suddenly, the entire torso of the vacuum cleaner pops right off, the flat thingy that goes across the carpet is sitting on the floor, the rest of it in my hand… I BROKE THE FUCKING VACUUM.

 

And then I realize… It’s supposed to do this! I was pushing the button that separates the two pieces by accident … what a clever design! The pieces separate so that you can carry the thing around while you suck up filth out of the stretchy-extendable pipe thingy. I’ve seen white, brunette ladies with bob haircuts do this in commercials for Swiffer and Oxyclean! I didn’t know our vacuum did this! .

Ok.

Progress.

 

I’m still sweating and I still haven’t figured out how to make the suction thing happen. I’m starting to feel like the biggest idiot this world has ever seen. What a fool I have been all these years…  I am the reason America has a glass ceiling.

I notice the accordion- like hose dangling from the back of the vacuum now. It has a hole on the end. I turn the motor (is it a motor? I don’t know… a car has a motor… what is this part called? The tornado torso? The windy inner demon? … I don’t know…) Air is sucking out of an open pipe— AN OPEN PIPE.

I turn the vacuum off, and slide the little nozzle of the hose sideways, and screw it to that beautiful open pipe….

On button.

 

SUCKAGE!!

 

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN WE HAVE SUCKAGE!!!!

I have never been so happy to clean ceilings in my entire life! Couch crevices? SUCKED. Oh a cobweb? SUCKED. Dust around the moulding? SUCKED.

Drenched in sweat and as if a huge weight lifted off my shoulders, I used all of the little moving parts of that glorious vacuum cleaner, and BY GOD I did not ask for help!

I am a sad, privileged, woman who JUST figured out how to use her vacuum cleaner, and I will CLING to this moment of adulthood glory for as long as possible.

 

 

As a side note, I also broke my french press today while doing the dishes.

Domestic realness.

 

Later dudes. xoxoxo

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“Die, Vampires.”

Has anyone ever been tormented in their head by the things others have said about you?

Actually, you know what, that is a ridiculous question.

EVERYONE HAS BEEN TORMENTED BY THE THINGS OTHERS HAVE SAID ABOUT THEM. 

We all have had this experience, even if it was back in the third grade, when Johnny called you a stupid-face and told you to eat dirt. Johnny was an a- hole. I really hope you didn’t eat dirt… I would have been the kid that ate the dirt in silence, not told an adult, and then cried about it at home. But I digress….

Anyway, this really got me thinking about the narrative we have in our heads when our tormentors, bullies, relatives, coaches, etc., tell us things that are completely detrimental to our well-being. We may not be able to control what people say or do to us, but we have 100% responsibility for the way we react to it, and how it controls our behavior in the future.

Unfortunately, I have been a pushover most of my life. I’m still grappling with the terrible things that have been said to me. But recently, I got an idea. I read in a book that if you can imagine yourself achieving a goal as vividly as possible, you’re WAY more likely to achieve it in your life. So I thought, maybe that could work the other way around as well. Maybe I could replace my responses to the jerks with something else, something I wish I had said, and that can make me stronger now.

So lately, I’ve decided to change my narrative. Entirely through the use of imagination (yay Theater Degree!) I’m working on replacing my memory with something the a stronger, older, wiser me would say the the A-holes.

 

The following is a list of things things that have been said to me in my past, how I responded then, and the new narrative I am now using so I can move the eff on with my life.

Hater: “You’re too fat for the standards of this performance group.”  

Old Me: “Yeah I know, but it’s fine I’ll just be in the back where I can sing. I’m good at singing anyway, I’m not here because I’m good-looking.

New Me: “Hey! F*CK you! I made it just as well as anyone else. Also, I’m a beautiful, talented goddess, and my body is not your business.”

 

Hater: “I’m cutting you from this dance. You look like a horse.” 

Old Me: Continues to rehearse in silence until the tears pour out of my face uncontrollably.

New Me:  “You know, it takes a really specific kind of person to look a twelve-year-old in the eyes and compare them to a barn animal. Although, horses are majestic! So I guess that means I’m majestic! Would you like to do something else in this scene? Or can I call my mom and go home?”

 

Hater: “Do you think you could lose ten pounds before opening night? None of these costumes fit you.”

Old Me: (Awkward laughter) ” I’m sorry. I could try? ”

New Me: “I hear crash diets are really unhealthy, especially for fifth graders. So, should I put your name down for being held responsible for my early onset anorexic tendencies? I’ll just give you my therapist’s address and you can write her a check directly.”

 

Hater: “Your body is fine, it could just be… you know… firmer. More toned.” 

Old Me: Oh yeah, I agree. That’s why I’ve been trying to lift weights and eat more lean protein. Firmer definitely is better.

New Me: Continuing to eat cake. We’re breaking up.

 

 

Hater: Good luck trying to find someone who loves you as much as I do. You’re a lot to handle and I doubt anyone else will understand how to deal with you. 

Old me: Cries.

New Me: Those two sentences make absolutely NO sense! And my worth is not defined by whether or not a boyfriend can “handle” me. I can handle myself, thank you very much! Giggity!

 

 

Hater: Ugh, you’re so irresponsible and dreamy. Why can’t you pay attention and be smart?  

Old me: I don’t know. I guess my mind wanders too much. I’m sorry.

New Me: I’m a creative person and I’m very smart about a lot of things. My intelligence is defined differently than yours, and maybe you would realize that if you actually attempted to listen to me once in a while.

 

 

Hater: Your involvement in the Theater Arts is making you vulnerable to Satan. You’re doing the work of the Devil and you don’t even know it. That’s why you’re not happy, and you never will be until you change your ways. 

Old Me: Frantically searches the Bible for answers, prays to God to take away my passions and to change my heart to love more “Godly” things.  

New Me: You’re insane. If you don’t have respect for my passions, then you don’t respect me. We’re breaking up.

 

 

 

You guys, don’t get me wrong. The experiences in our past that sucked make us who we are. They are a part of ourselves that give us the fuel to live out our passions and connect to others. But if the a-holes in your past are holding you back from anything in your present, try to change the narrative and see what happens.

 

xoxox

 

 

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