Right now I am at the beach. That is why I have been a little plugged out. I needed some time to detox. There has been a lot going on with my book-good stuff-but I want the answer now. Granted all packages were mailed to Cali and it takes a week yet still, I want to know the answer. I am a little bummed Madame Cleo is out of business. Of course God supposedly doesn't tell you straight away. He jiggles a plant or something. Buddah and Allah, they haven't appeared on this mission. What I am trying to say is I am a neurotic woman on the brink. Can't you tell? I know, my neuroses go well with my pearls. Ask all my old boyfriends.
Oh and I had some haterade drama that I will not even begin to describe.
Anyway I am at the beach with mi familia. Our big vacay for the summer. It's my sister, myself, and my parents. It's her big trip before the world is forced to call her doctor. It's our big trip before our book signing at Brown next week. And it's my big chance to get my brain together.
The nice thing about the ocean is that it is just is. It doesn't try to be anything else. Earlier this week I imagined being swept away. I mean, not dying, just plopped down to a desert island. That way I could shirk out of my responsibilities. Of course I would probably be eaten by a shark and that would totally suck so I thought screw that.
Then the anxiety returned. The beach ball in my stomach. What would my audiobook turn out like? Would the magazines say nice things about my book? Oh and I have a book signing at an Ivy League school and my mother is driving me crazy about the joint event I have planned with my siblings?
I began to think what if all these things failed. Where would I go? What would I do to hide? Why didn't I become a doctor like my sister? Damnit why can't I be Iron Man? That is when I get a phone call from a fan of mine. I end up telling this fan who I adore about how I have a lot of followers, 5k on one page, and then two more, and how I can't always talk to everyone. And then some get testy when I don't get back to them and blah de blah.
That is when my fan said, "You have been on TV, you have a book, and you have fans. You have it better than most people, April."
My fan was right. Although I am a whacko woman on the brink most of the time the work is finally starting to pay off. My twenties which were spent onstage whoring myself like a stripper, performing with my puppets in the street, dressing in costume for a living, and writing my first book in a dingy apartment with no air conditioning are starting to come to something. I have fans. Better than all those throwing haterade at me. No one likes those fools.
As I was on the beach with my mother in my bikini I lamented about how I had grown gender paranoid as of late with all the hatred coming from entitled male working comics who wanted to slam me, and bitch female comedians. My mom, who is magic like Jesus, but actually might be more awesome because she gave birth to me, says, "I used to think there was a strike against me because of my size (she's 4'11"), my age and being a woman. But I can go places guys can't and do things guys can't. I mean, why would I pay a few bucks to burp and fart and watch football when I can wear makeup, perfume, and have a good time?"
My mom is right.
I look out and see the ocean. It comes and it goes. It has fish. It is gentle and rough. But bottom line, it just is. At the end of the day sometimes you have to be like the ocean. You have to be where your feet are. You try your best and that is all you can do. Otherwise like any neurotic I build castles in the sky.
Why do that when you can build a castle in the sand? Adults do it. Kids do it. And it doesn't end up putting you in a straight jacket.
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook
available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Greenpeace
PS. Book signing at Brown Bookstore Saturday May 25 from 4-6. Be there or be square
Oh and I had some haterade drama that I will not even begin to describe.
Anyway I am at the beach with mi familia. Our big vacay for the summer. It's my sister, myself, and my parents. It's her big trip before the world is forced to call her doctor. It's our big trip before our book signing at Brown next week. And it's my big chance to get my brain together.
The nice thing about the ocean is that it is just is. It doesn't try to be anything else. Earlier this week I imagined being swept away. I mean, not dying, just plopped down to a desert island. That way I could shirk out of my responsibilities. Of course I would probably be eaten by a shark and that would totally suck so I thought screw that.
Then the anxiety returned. The beach ball in my stomach. What would my audiobook turn out like? Would the magazines say nice things about my book? Oh and I have a book signing at an Ivy League school and my mother is driving me crazy about the joint event I have planned with my siblings?
I began to think what if all these things failed. Where would I go? What would I do to hide? Why didn't I become a doctor like my sister? Damnit why can't I be Iron Man? That is when I get a phone call from a fan of mine. I end up telling this fan who I adore about how I have a lot of followers, 5k on one page, and then two more, and how I can't always talk to everyone. And then some get testy when I don't get back to them and blah de blah.
That is when my fan said, "You have been on TV, you have a book, and you have fans. You have it better than most people, April."
My fan was right. Although I am a whacko woman on the brink most of the time the work is finally starting to pay off. My twenties which were spent onstage whoring myself like a stripper, performing with my puppets in the street, dressing in costume for a living, and writing my first book in a dingy apartment with no air conditioning are starting to come to something. I have fans. Better than all those throwing haterade at me. No one likes those fools.
As I was on the beach with my mother in my bikini I lamented about how I had grown gender paranoid as of late with all the hatred coming from entitled male working comics who wanted to slam me, and bitch female comedians. My mom, who is magic like Jesus, but actually might be more awesome because she gave birth to me, says, "I used to think there was a strike against me because of my size (she's 4'11"), my age and being a woman. But I can go places guys can't and do things guys can't. I mean, why would I pay a few bucks to burp and fart and watch football when I can wear makeup, perfume, and have a good time?"
My mom is right.
I look out and see the ocean. It comes and it goes. It has fish. It is gentle and rough. But bottom line, it just is. At the end of the day sometimes you have to be like the ocean. You have to be where your feet are. You try your best and that is all you can do. Otherwise like any neurotic I build castles in the sky.
Why do that when you can build a castle in the sand? Adults do it. Kids do it. And it doesn't end up putting you in a straight jacket.
Love
April
I
Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery GirlPaperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Greenpeace
PS. Book signing at Brown Bookstore Saturday May 25 from 4-6. Be there or be square
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