Serotonin

A Happy picture of me and my Bo. Yesterday when he was late I thought he stood me up. Then I said, "oops, only  a straight boy would do that."

My sad and depressed pic. 

Lately I have been feeling depressed. Actually it started Wednesday when a callback I had for a job that is sort of in the bag but not really got moved. Part of me fears they are looking for someone better and giving me the runaround. The other part of me knows I am a good ventriloquist, but it’s like that little devil is on my shoulder. It’s weird because up to this point it had been a good week. I am part of a project where we are currently in touch with a hip hop legend. Then of course there were my not one but two press interviews I just did. Oh and then the pilot I was up for, they went in a different direction and won’t be using me.

Sure, when I signed on for  a career in show biz I accepted disappointments. Sometimes I am used to them. It’s a part of the game. Yet sometimes I just feel like a mess.

I know I am not one of the darlings. You know, the ones who live on easy street. Either way I am in a ton of physical pain. My life feels that it is falling apart. I am fucking dejected as all hell. I tried calling my mom yesterday and she told me she felt the pilot would be a reach because I dealt with the network before and they are flaky. But I was looking forward. My parade has been rained on. Why don’t we just add a hailstorm?

Then as if my life isn’t already falling apart Holden and I are over for good I think. It’s for the best but I still loved him. It sucks to lose the one you love. None of the other guys are like him. They are either too freaking pathetic, or they are just plain liars. I don’t care that he’s a fugitive from justice but perhaps he will have to face the law alone. But this fugitive stole my heart. I penned a country song. Lyrics to come later. The thing is though, I loved him and always will in a way. I know, I am a mess because he told me I was beautiful and smart. No guy has ever done that before :(

What’s next? Broken heart, no pilot, potentially no new show, potentially no celebrity interview, and broken heart already? Maybe I will get fired from the jobs I already have and be unemployed and then worse yet, get shot. Get shot? Could I really be that lucky? No, if I got shot I wouldn’t die. I would just be an annoying cripple and would have something else to bitch about.

Me and my gay husband Hassan. He doesn't get in trouble with the law, lie to me, or let me down. 

Maybe I should take my hits lying down like a woman. It works for the rest of the girls. When I say girls I use the term to apply to both genders because many resign themselves and accept being in the middle. They try to drag me to loser land with them, partially because they are so miserable that they want my esteemed company and partially because they are pissed I have had as much TV time as I have. Either way, I swing like a freaking man and am unafraid to fight one.

I think I have to stop blogging about my ex-fiance. He’s not a happy topic for me. My mother doesn’t bring him up because she knows it upsets me. I have been thinking about my time with him lately, partially because of my writing and video activism, and it doesn’t make me feel good. Actually, it has made me feel raw. I think it’s better that I ended it with Kindred Spirit because in a way he reminded me of the ex-fiance. Aside from being a judgmental mongoloid who couldn’t spell, like my ex he wouldn’t think before he spoke and was rather hurtfully blunt and played moral high ground when he had no place doing so. And the rules were different for him because he was a man. Unlike my ex, I don’t think his intent was to be hurtful for abusive.

But, like my ex, Kindred likes his bitches tattooed and trashy. What am I even doing calling these women bitches? I know many tattooed women that are so called trashy that are quite nice. And I don’t think again, that Kindred meant to be hurtful and abusive when he shot from the hip. Actually he wasn’t at all. It’s probably the South Brooklyn coming out of the boy. Either way, it was becoming all too familiar and I found myself lashing out at him for all the ex’s wrongs. So perhaps it was better that we parted ways before he became my whipping boy. Still I won’t be blogging about my ex anymore. It just makes me sick.

On top of that, with the weird weather my old injuries have been acting badly like Eric Roberts. Between my flagging career, my broken heart over Holden and my physical injuries I feel like getting a bottle of Jack Daniels and handful of perks and just calling it a day as I slip under my blanket.

Actually, that would all be a sucky idea because that would make me fat. Plus if I overdosed my beautiful puppet children would be without a mother. Still, think of what an OD could do for my career. Or maybe not. Scratch that. I wouldn’t leave a very pretty corpse if I were fat and bloated. My gay friends wouldn’t show up to the funeral on principal alone.

I have to focus on positive goals like finding an editor for my book and being grateful. Plus my mom invited me to the beach with she and my dad in two weeks. I think I am going to go, sun myself, get out of the smog.

Alas, time to start my day. Time to sing upbeat showtunes. Time to change my outlook. Time to get those brain chemicals in a happy place.

Love

April

PS. I saw a picture of a girl I hate and she got fat. Already smiling. 

May Wilson and I being happy. Thinking of this picture and smiling. 

Nice looking chocolate love bucket Trends Locario likes me but will be dating other women. I can live with that. He always counters my feminist rhetoric by saying something completely offensive. 

Performing at the benefit for Tom Finland. I picked that outfit out. It  makes me happy. 

One of my favorite photos of myself. That makes me happy.