Silencing the Noise

The past several days I have been steeped in the tizzy of April being April. Sometimes I am so neurotic, self-centered, egocentric, and just plain crazy I should win an award. Seriously. All weekend long I was running around, working. Nothing seemed to be coming together. My buses were late, or when they were on time they were running the milk route or the weekend schedule and I had to schlep and have a mini-adventure. If people were supposed to show up, like our model for our video, they flaked. Even though they screwed themselves because we will never work with them again, in a way we felt like we were being rejected. My friend Marcus and I discussed this. Yes, rejected. On top of that there is so much to be done with promoting my book. So many people to send press packs to. So many people who don't answer my emails when I want them to which is pronto, right after I send them. They must be at their iphones and blackberries. They can't have life, outside work, family, lunch breaks, eight hours of sleep. No wonder I work with puppets. They are always there when I need them, and when I pull their strings they say what I want them to

Monday was the beginning of a nutty two days for me. I felt this panic and anxiety. The last time I felt this was when I was nineteen years old, alone in New York City. I was surrounded by all these people. The girls were so slutty that they were getting action all the time. Meanwhile they were ugly on top of being slutty so I wanted to know how this was happening. The good girls were so nauseatingly fake and could quote scriptures. It seemed everyone was smart and talented and I was just this dirty impostor from Pittsburgh with her puppets. So I broke my back to prove to everyone I belonged. It was painful. I was lonely. Eventually it got easier but damn that was a lonely feeling.

Now here I was feeling it again. Of course the last few weeks have been big and everything with my book. Big steps are scary. Sometimes when you take a big step, you don't know what's at the top of the landing. Will it be a pot of gold or a scary monster? Either way I was like a five year old kid scared of the dark again.

Tuesday felt even worse. I had to talk to a few people about my book and felt so lost. Nevermind Stephen King once had a first book and there was some of this drama. He probably worried that people would embrace him. Finally, after a mini meltdown I walked in the rain. Although I was risking pneumonia, I just needed to clear my head. I ended up meeting a woman who is like a mom to be to give her a duplicate set of my house keys in case of emergency-don't ask. Anyway, I poured my heart out and she laughed and told me to relax. What the hell was she talking about? I was soaking wet, unsure of the next step for my future, HOW THE HELL WAS I SUPPOSED TO RELAX!!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

This morning I woke up feeling no better. Steeped in self-pity, I realized my birthday was next week and I was getting another year older. That I had accomplished nothing. That I wasn't on Conan. Nevermind I was on Entertainment Tonight, TLC and a slew of other shows. Nevermind I wrote a damn book. I just felt this worthlessness. I pictured myself alone with my six cats, three hundred pounds, eating iced cream with my hands at the edge of a cliff with my puppets as my only people to talk to. They would have to be because all at once I realized I was allergic to cats and that they would never work in this nightmare. Yes, nightmare. I was going to die without my dreams ever being realized.

Then something happened this afternoon. A friend of mine and I met and I signed her book. Something about the whole thing made me happy. Maybe it was because the noise in my head was finally quiet. The itty bitty committee had stepped out for lunch. It felt good. She is starting my book after a murder mystery she is currently reading. A murder mystery is a must finish in my opinionation. Then again, being an egomaniac my opinionation is the only thing that matters in my world. This particular friend is one who has come in my path recently and she writes too. I am anxious to see her book when it comes out. Plus she has been ever supportive with all the stalker/fan drama I have had in some of the past weeks.

When I got home I read on facebook a message from a fan in Canada who wanted to buy my book. The fan letter they wrote me made me smile and get teary eyed at the same time. Fan mail always does. At that moment I took a deep breath and decided to tell that chatter in my ever speedy brain to shut the hell up. I wrote the fan back instructing them on how to purchase my book. As I wrote I realized if I wanted people, young and old, to get one thing out of my book it would be that their dreams mattered-that they weren't stupid but in fact counted. That everyone's ideas and dreams were important. And that my hope was that my book inspired people to follow their dream whether it is to move to the city to perform/write, become a teacher, become an engineer, diplomat, whatever. The world needs all kinds of people. If the world were run by performers nothing would ever get done.

Just then my phone rang. Pink gorilla in Greenwich, CT. Okay, can do. The window is a little tight and I will have to run now. I talked to the client. They wanted a bottle of Scotch to go with the present. I have to run to the liquor store. Then they call again, they want me in CT before 9. It is 7. They also wanted me to sing the song Maniac from Dirty Dancing. I have to take a train and then haul the Scotch which isnt as light as you would like to believe and take a cab to some side street because he might not be home. Oh and then they need to give me the message and one is calling from a cell and the other from an office and everyone is making me CAT SHIT CRAZY!!!!!! As my serenity and selflessness I had achieved an hour before went out the window something hit me. I was just a person

I began to lose my mind as I ran to catch the train. It would get me there in time. I pull up my iphone learning Maniac when I see a text from the client. The birthday boy was going to be downtown in NYC. My jaw dropped. They were trying to kill me it seemed. I took a breath. Then another beam of whatever from the universe hit me. I did an om. It was something my boss at the telegram company, who by the way is a certified meditation teacher, taught me to do. During that om, it occurred to me that my job was to be of service. That what I did was a gift. That there were people who would chase my dreams in a second if I didnt want to. Plus the folks in Cali were probably going as crazy as I was, because this was the client's assistant booking this whole thing. Poor thing was probably losing her blessed mind, and if anything probably was ready to kill her boss and if she saw me in person would have been chugging my Scotch. During our texts and phone convo I put her at ease so she could relax and therefore her boss could be happy and that meant everyone could be happy.

When I got to Soho, despite my running around I didnt feel tired. Instead I focused on a huge rose statue. Despite the New York buzz around me I felt a sort of peace. I had put one foot in front of the other, I was going to take a breath, and just do the best job I knew to do. I was going to be okay. Everything with my book was going to be okay. My job was to make this guys night and give him a memory. In a lot of ways, I have the greatest job in the world. Many a day and night I am invited into someone's family or an intimate moment in their world for a wrinkle in time. I give them a smile and we share a memory knowing the world isn't all that big. That we are all connected.

That's exactly what happened tonight. I gave the bday boy the surprise of the night. The whole party joined us on the sidewalk to take photos. Other diners in the cool late summer/early autumn snapped me with their camera phones. We were all smiling, laughing, having a good time. The client in LA was happy. His assistant wanted to know the name of the Scotch I purchased, probably because she wants to polish off a whole bottle after the stress she has been through. Eh, it happens. As the cameras snapped the bday boy said, "Blakey, you da man." For the record, I hit Maniac. On of the members of the delegation even fixed my mask because it was making her crazy. I had a laugh and felt beautiful. This was all good. I think he will remember 40 forever!

After I was done I saw a bunch of lights. Then I realized down the street was the Festival of San Gennaro. I walked it having never been, and dodged a procession for the San or Saint or whatever he calls himself. It was blocks of food and other festivities as well as a mini off season freak show. I ended up getting Buffalo Calimari. I was taken aback at how family orientated and well behaved people were. Going down the street I felt even more of a peace. Sometimes I work myself to death. I am ambitious and hardworking, never missing a beat and this is why people tend to like me and hire me. At the same time, I know I make them nuts but not as nuts as I make myself. That's why I just took the time to enjoy the festivities.

I came across the statue of San Gennaro. The people who worship at the church pray and pin a dollar or two to the little ribbon on it. My great grandmother was into stuff like that, just like my grandma is to some extent. My mother used to bless us with Holy Water from said locales during stressful events. My attitude was, "Eh, whatever makes you feel good." I ended up chatting with the man at the booth and asked if he believed and he said he did and gave me a pamphlet. I pinned a buck and said a prayer. My prayer to whomever is upstairs, assuming they might be named Buster Brown but no one knows, that I would stop being so crazy and be more of service and loving to others. And that I was unsure and scared of the next step in my quest with my book, and could unnamed divine force guide me. Within a moment I heard "Dress You Up in My Love" by Madonna. That song is a song of mine that is lucky. Maybe it means something. Maybe it doesn't.

On my walk back I saw an indie bookstore. I walked in and nervously explained to the clerk who had a buzz cut and nose ring that I had written a book. Immediately without judgement, she gave me the names of the two people that headed the memoir and humor section in order to give a book pitch. While my book is not yet in the store it is an exciting next step. Perhaps San Gennaro answered my prayer. Or maybe he didn't. Either way, that bookstore just happened to fall into my path which was awesome.

As my treat I took a cab ride home. I will burn off the fried food tomorrow in Jeanene's class. Sigh. Life is an adventure. When it is good and you are of love and service you can smile. When it is bad you have a funny story later. My advice is so good and this is so insightful maybe I should follow it next week when life starts happening to screw up my best laid plans.

Love, April

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

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www.buybooksontheweb.com

UnPretty (TLC)

The other night I ended up going out with an old friend of mine. We had dinner which was what I needed. I actually don’t get to see Josh enough. He is one of the few straight, male friends I have that isn’t a comedian. Actually he’s one of my few straight male friends in general. Nonetheless it was good to see him again. He had been having a rough month being unemployed, having lost his uncle and then his cat. So the dinner was good for the both of us, plutonic friends out for a stroll.

We went on a walk after dinner and I ended up going to my place for a sweatshirt. It was a University of Pittsburgh zip up I had gotten for my birthday. As I ran downstairs I didn’t know how I felt about things getting cold. While I love the fall and live for it being a fall baby, October is a strange month for everyone. It’s Halloween and then of course it’s a sign Christmas is around the corner. Nonetheless I love the change of the leaves and the different colors they become as they fall to the ground.

When I got downstairs my friend Josh and I walked towards the Yotel. It’s this new bar of sorts by my house and sort of a mock hotel. I don’t get it. I just know my friend Marcus’s ex of sorts worked there until he partied his way out of the job. For the record Marcus has a new man who is much better for him. Anyway, Josh and I wanted to check it out so we went in. There was a bizarre robot there and apparently it was to store luggage. To me it looked completely useless.

We rode the elevator up to the bar area and on the elevator with us were girls who looked as if they crawled out of the perfectly packaged case at the Mattel store. The guys all looked gay or metro sexual. Of course they weren’t the kind of gay that would be friends with me. My gays more or less do the drag balls or work in high fashion. These guys looked like they were out of the J. Crew catalogue. Josh and I of course were in our sweatshirts and jeans. Looking at the girls in the designer clothes I felt the need to head to the nearest sports bar, order a Budweiser, crack some peanuts, and root for the Steelers.

We got to the bar itself and sat down on some cushions. The place actually looked pretty cheap. As I saw the girls walk by in their designer clothing and with their girly drinks that would probably be a breakfast favor for Amy Winehouse even dead I prayed for them to fall off their Jimmy Choo shoes. And the guys with them fawned over these plastic goddesses. It was like high school all over again. The insecurities were returning. I pictured myself some thirty pounds heavier with worse makeup than I have now. Of course there were all these skinny, pretty bitches rubbing it in that their lives were perfect. I tried to remind myself of every wonderful thing I had done in my life but it wasn’t working.

Looking at the plastics I wondered why I had left my Abercrombie and Fitch at home?  Better yet, where was my Malibu Dream Home when I needed it? While Josh was wonderful company, I should have chucked him and brought Ken. It was one of those moments of my life where I truly felt there was something wrong with me. Again I tried to remind myself of all my good points and accomplishments but one thing remained, these Cinderellas were ready for the ball and I looked like I was on my way to do the laundry. I tried to remember I had been on TV, was about to publish a book, had several projects in the works, hung out with celebrities and not to mention recently had dinner with someone who won both a Tony and an Emmy. But nevermind, I wasn’t plastic. I had a burger and fries for dinner, a food group a plastic would never stomach.

Josh and I joked about this and wondered if our lives would be easier if we were shallow. We agreed they would. After all, we wouldn’t care as much. At the same time we wouldn’t have the friends we had, friends who had been to jail. Instead they would have probably robbed us. Still the feelings from high school remained. How was it so easy for those plastics to look pretty and not care? Not to mention listen to a club mix that would have made Michael Alig kill Angel Melendez all over again. Yes it was that bad. Of course these kids probably all went to Vassar too, or a Sarah Lawrence or a place where people believe they did something important for four years.

Either way, when I got home that night I felt like the ugly, fat, fifteen year old kid all over again. I just remembered kids like that teasing me. They told me the ventriloquism was stupid. I would never get to New York. Then to make matters worse I saw a bitch I hate is doing well. That was the worst news of all. I found myself praying she got hit by a truck. Then I saw two friends of mine were doing well. These were two people who had always been kind to me. I found myself hoping that they failed on their quest for success which was mucho evil. Why the hell was I so pissed about the happiness of others?

I tried to remind myself yet again of all the wonderful things that had happened in my life and the wonderful things I had to look forward to. I now have a web talk show. I am on my way to publishing a book. I have a webseries I am a part of that may be getting picked up by a big web channel. I have another webseries I guest starred on that is launching and the host is a big freaking deal and a hero of mine. Not to mention I am covering a song produced by a relative of a Hollywood legend. And earlier this month I had dinner with a Tony and Emmy award winner. I am friends with Tony and Emmy award winners and Heisman winners.

Needless to say after watching some reruns of Unsolved Mysteries on Youtube I cried myself to sleep.

In the morning I woke up and went for my jog. As I was running it dawned on me. Sure the kids looked rich and shallow and dressed in labels in Yotel but I didn’t know them. Maybe if I would have spoken to them we would have gotten along. Maybe they had struggles of their own. Maybe, just maybe, they too were picked on in school. I didn’t know that or them. Maybe they detested the club music as much as I did. Of course there was the visit from the Green Eyed Monster. It was only right I be happy for some of these women because they had been happy and had always been kind to me. As for the one I didn’t like, well she can enjoy the break all she wants because she is fat and old. Sure it is a gig I would kill for, but I have had TV time she will never have. And I will continue to do so.

I thought of all the wonderful things I had done this year, was currently doing and realized not only is this the beginning but there is no need to be jealous of anyone. I am doing well myself and just need to focus on that. And the fact I am friends with people doing well means I have positive people in my life who are doing positive things and I should be flattered by the fact that not only do they congratulate me but want to keep my company. That’s what I would tell someone who writes me at my advice column (aprilbrucker@hotmail.com if you have a quiery)

I guess the crazy thing is, no matter how bad or good things are, we all are a little guilty of drawing the big old less than sign in our direction in the equation. God does an attack of low self esteem suck the big one. Maybe I should talk about this on my web talk show, Confessions, on younow.com every Sunday night from 8-10 pm EST on younow.com. Love April