akimbo

Someday when I'm independently wealthy and have government health benefits and lots of free time on my hands, I'm going to roam the country and perform monologues on big stages with fancy velvet curtains and small ones with no curtains at all. 
I think I'd be good at standing around and talking and talking and talking.  About any old thing.  Audience choice.  I think I'd be okay with whatever was thrown at me, I have lots of crap in my head. 

I used to have a blog called "tell me the one about..." where all posts were done by reader request, but no one read it and after the first three posts were done I ran out of readers so I closed the blog.

I went to an improv workshop last weekend and got to do a little alone-on-the-stage time. 
That's super awkward for me, but I like it.  I think I like it even better than doing things up there in groups, and I love doing that.
Being alone up there is great, once I figure out where to put my hands.

My hands are always getting in the way of me appearing to be calm and comfortable.  I like to cross my arms, but that pushes my boobs up and together and then I feel like everyone is staring at my boobs.  I don't know whether clasping them together is supposed to be done in the front or the back, and putting them on my hips makes me feel angry.  I like to hold one elbow and push my bottom lip up with my index finger when I'm listening to something, but I feel like that's maybe why I get clogged pores under my lip and sometimes they get so clogged that my skin gets dark and I'm afraid people will think I'm growing a soul patch.  (have you seen those Hanes commercials where Michael Jordon has a Hitler-stache?  I don't think that's something you can bring back.  Too soon, Michael, too soon)  I rub my thumb nail with my other thumb when I'm feeling looked at.  Watch me for a little while and you'll be able to tell when I'm uncomfortable.  It's really bad when I start pinching the pads of my fingers until my nails leave little marks that look like the pause button.  Or the number 11.

I wasn't prepared to talk about the topic I got to talk about, and there was some major sweating involved.  A moment of "I could either lie about this stuff, or just go tits deep and tell the truth". I almost cried. I got goosebumps.  But I got some laughs, some applause, and when we were done I was stopped by people I didn't even know who wanted to tell me that they've been through some of the things I spoke of.  One person told me she thought she was the only person in the world who ___ and feels better now that she knows she's not.  Another said that he never realized why he ___ but all of a sudden he remembered that when he was a kid ___ happened to him too and it all makes sense now.  A third person gave me a big hug and said "thank you".

I like that feeling.  I like making people feel less alone.

What did I talk about?  All sorts of stuff.  From shag carpeting to calling Laura Ingalls Wilder a dirty prairie calico see-you.  I'm still mad at her over the whole The Little House Books Are Fiction thing. 
All very personal accounts of some very personal things.
Me. 
On Stage. 
Disclosing.

If you would have told me a year ago that I would be able to do that today I would have laughed at you.  Then excused myself to the bathroom because I would have gotten the feeling that pants pooping is imminent. But today I am starting to do it, and I like it.

Improv-type monologues might be my next big project, so watch out for that.  As soon as I find the time.  Time is in short supply these days.

***

I'm sick.  Boo to that.  But I get to eat my favorite sickfood- those little star noodles in spinach and carrots with just a little bit of broth and lots of black pepper straight out of the grinder.  I make my broth out of Knorr vegetable bouillon cubes.  I used to use the canned stuff, and opened it by poking two triangle holes in the top with one of those oldenfashioned can openers, but the last time I used canned broth I couldn't find the can puncher and used the regular opener that takes off the whole top and I found mold in all six of my broth cans.  Three different brands, all different lot numbers, all moldy.  Black, slimey mold.  I called the companies and they offered me coupons for free cans of broth and said they know that can happen, but I shouldn't have a problem if I "boil the broth for ten minutes, which shouldn't be a problem if I'm making soup".  Ick.

What brands were they?  I don't know if I can use real brand names here but I'll just say this:
College Out
Swandaughters
Trader Shmo's

I probably should have told you that story six months ago during soup season when you could have used the information.