Four and three and two and one (What up!)

When Mike D, MCA and Ad-Rock first organized as the Beastie Boys, they were among the hardest of the hardcore in 1979. Rather than abandon their sound for their love of rap music, they made music history by changing the scene instead of themselves.  As it turned out, they could do both. At the same time.

If only it were that easy for the rest of us…

The saving grace is that we’re not alone in this.  A month ago…

• I hadn’t read The War of Art by Steven Pressfield.
• I hadn’t heard any of the Question The Rules modules from Johnny B. Truant & Lee Stranahan.
• I hadn’t received optimystical clarity from Mynde Mayfield.
• I hadn’t asked a few particular people for guidance, or heard the rather confounding feedback I eventually received.
• I hadn’t gone to the NC CEO Forum or heard the amazing speakers discuss how they achieved a triple bottom line in their businesses.
• I hadn’t seen that (I can not believe I’m about to say this) Glee episode with Neil Patrick Harris about dreams.
• I hadn’t gotten my new tattoo, a cover-up for another tattoo that represented a period in my life I finally became ready to leave behind.

And really, it was the last one that came with a bullet because it was an intentional change made to represent this moment…this time in my life where I’m standing at the crossroads, looking forward at what my life could be, knowing the only thing these paths share is a change from what my life currently includes. I now have a permanent reminder of who I am today and I couldn’t be happier.

The tattoo sealed the deal, but it was a combination of all these things together that created a rather perfect existential storm.

Kickin’ the clarity…

I’ve seen how other people before me have worked through trying times when it feels like nothing is certain and everything is up for grabs. And I’ve seen how they rocked it into six-figure businesses that fulfill them.

I understand Resistance and refuse to accept it as my driver.

Most importantly, I’ve questioned everything I thought was solid (spoiler alert: there really is no spoon) and have come to realize I don’t have to change who I am in order to change what I do.

True, there are tons of people writing about sustainability. Are any of them business-focused pervs who are incapable of providing a value proposition without giggling at the word proposition?

There are a lot of people who discuss grieving and the importance of reconciling your past in order to be fully present for the now.  Are any of them twisted enough to tell you it’s okay to feel anger while cracking on the reaper with jokes that would make your mama blush?

Even if the answer is yes, I’ve realized I actually do have things to offer that won’t compromise my current line of work or my integrity.  I don’t need to take on an assumed name (yet) and I don’t need to write to you in a fashion that reads like comment bait.  While I certainly hope you comment, that’s not my goal here.

Short time frame, big difference…

If I learned anything from the last 30 days, it’s that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be right now. More, I’m exactly who I’m supposed to be.

I’ve been so focused on change that I forgot it’s okay to be the constant. I don’t have to be the one who changes all the time. And neither do you.

As I bless this site with a new header (created by the ever-awesome Marty Whitmore) that more accurately captures what I’m trying to do here, I also bless myself with a little kindness for all the crappy things I’ve been doing to my mind.  It is true that I’m a total freak, but people have built revolutions on this kind of thing… so why not me?

If this resonates with you at all, I’d love to hear your experience and insight.  It’s been so liberating to find I’m not as alone as I thought I was…

I hope you know the same is true for you…

Whenever people find out I worked at a comedy club, they immediately request a joke or otherwise expect me to be funny.  All I can say is that looks aren’t everything.

For the second entry in my now-dubbed Existential Resume expedition, I’m going to bring you to the job I landed immediately following the ever-scary Terror on Church Street: SAK Comedy Lab.

*I’d like to note for any would-be critics that the movie “Monsters, Inc.” wasn’t out when I decided to trade in screams for laughter.  Any further similarities are purely coincidental, and if they’re not, I’m owed some serious dough.

SAK was on the other end of Terror’s block, just off Orange Avenue in downtown Orlando.  They often enjoyed one another’s walk-up traffic, and as I said before, Terror made more money than SAK did.  But unlike Terror, money wasn’t why the performers or house staff were there.

My pay was miserable, but the positives far outweighed the negatives… I made my rent money another block over as a cocktail waitress at the Kit Kat Club, so I could afford to hang out with professional funny people on the side.

Which brings me to my first admission: I’m not a funny improvisational comedienne.  I followed my dream of becoming a world-famous actress and thought that meant I needed to work at a theater, mastering every dramatic challenge that came at me.  As it turned out, I wasn’t good.  At all.  I was an excellent straight gal in a scene, but terrible (I mean really terrible) at on-the-spot hilarity.

I could help grow stories with “yes, and” right with the best of ‘em.  I don’t block others or shut down the forward movement fellow players make in story lines.  I’m actually quite good under pressure, but my full in-character commitment to off-the-cuff concoctions just wasn’t up to par.  This should have upset me.  Thing is, I followed the third most important rule of improv and focused on the present, only to realize that what I really wanted was to be the house tech where I had all the buttons, levers and dials a girl could ask for.

I could have realized that I wasn’t cut out to be a funny girl and stopped devoting my time to an outlet with minimal compensation.  Instead I found something I liked a whole lot more that proved useful down the road when I landed jobs as a DJ and a stage tech at a couple other theaters.

Owning my shortfall ultimately saved me from a path that wasn’t mine, and being at peace with the fact that I won’t be the best at everything gave me the courage to try something completely different.

If I hadn’t adjusted the dreams I kept when I was 18 and ready to take on Hollywood, I’d be a very different and likely miserable person today.  Instead I’m saving the world (one energy efficiency measure at a time) and living the life with my wonderful family.

While theater teching at SAK wasn’t THE pivotal moment for my current reality, revisiting this chapter has reminded me that my aim doesn’t need to be perfect to still be on target.  Perfection is merely a measuring stick. Many times, close is close enough – then it’s up to me to put in the work to get to where I need to be…

You don’t have to work in a theater to know that we don’t need to be under a spotlight to shine.  That said, if we’re in the spotlight and we’re not there because it feels like that’s where we belong, it’s not going to be a stellar experience for any of us.  Shine when it feels right and your light will be impossible to miss…

(Quick plug: If you’re interested in getting a free copy of my theater tech materials and manuals, sign up for my mailing list.  I’ve scanned everything and will give them to those on my list through a super secret subscriber area, where you can access all the free randomness I share.  If nothing else, my tech doodles are worth the two minutes it’ll take to sign up…)