All posts for the month July, 2013

I brought you here because I . . Am . . . Distracticus

Published July 30, 2013 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I don’t have a hard time getting started in the morning.  I have a hard time staying started.  If I don’t succumb to the siren song of Netflix on my tablet, which I have on the nightstand, because I can’t fall asleep without visual distraction like a normal person, and all I have to do to watch the next show is mash my paw on the touch screen, and if you don’t wake up completely, sometimes you will get a surprise, like Stan Smith screaming the American Dad theme song right in your ear! Fun times!

If I am able to  accomplish the impossible and actually get out of the bed, I will wander into the kitchen and then commence the morning stagger between the fridge for a mug of filtered water which I will then escort across the house to the Keurig ( I just now decided I should call the Keurig Kathy. It seems friendlier, and after all, Kathy protects the rest of the world from an uncaffeniated Writer Chick, so you should all really be nice to her.)

Once I have coffee I take the other chemicals that keep me from going on a nut punching spree. (It’s a delicate balance.)

After all of this, I have to harness my energy/rage/silly, etc and figure out what I should try to do with the day. It is at this point that I make the list of the bare minimum and then spend the rest of the day trying to avoid doing all of that until the last possible second. Then I just watch crime drama or something and go to bed and the whole process starts all over again.

This is why I need to get another job.

That and the fact that my financial situation is vastly approaching dire because of the massive life change brought on by the AWT and the EH’s dire transgression (World’s worst Roald Dahl story.)

So I am actively looking for a part-time or full time non-soul robbing job that would allow me to have a living wage (I know, horrifying concept, when McDonald’s won’t raise their prices the paltry SIXTY-EIGHT CENTS it would take to actually allow their employees to make the kind of money on which they would need to survive.

Ultimately I would like to find a job that would allow me to use my diplomas and credentials for good and not make me want to poke my eyes out with a melon baller and still allow me enough thought processes to write every day. It’s insane.

Especially when I realize that I just spent several minutes trying to explain how I get distracted and then distracted myself right up into a rant.

I should go ask Kathy for more coffee.

The Adventure Continues

Published July 30, 2013 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

Actor Boy is here and we like to have adventures of all kinds. Today’s involved us putting together our career lists (A group venture into the actual list of what we absolutely have to do.) We also spent some time with my mom and my brother to get their various inputs in the plan.  Then we had lunch and I purchased the pink button fly levis that Actor Boy has wanted for years.

I did not get cast in the play that I auditioned for. I mentioned it to Actor Boy and he said, “Oh, here look at this picture of a Squirrel eating corn.”

That kind of put things into perspective for me.

The rest of the day has been fun and  has included a giggle fest about a new member of the trapper keeper family, the monkey keeper. Wouldn’t that be fun? To just have a folder full of monkeys that you could release or not whenever you chose.

I think it would be fun.

It’s thoughts like these that will probably help nudge me into the asylum.

And just like that . . . brain day part 2

Published July 28, 2013 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

Ryan Roach didn’t make it.

I heard the news that Ryan, an actor I have worked with  who is my age, died of a stroke, moments after I had angry walked my way downtown with Actor Boy to my celebration dinner.

I was angry and upset because I had just seen the pictures of the very pregnant AWT posted on FB, that was liked by several mutual friends. Part of me was, and is, still screaming,, “Why does everyone still think this is OK?”

But now, knowing that a very talented and very loved actor person died suddenly at such a young age, my such young age, makes me less vexed. (Let there be no mistake, I am still a selfish bitch and I kind of hope that AWT’s pregnancy goes into several overdue days, because I’m an ass and I don’t really wish any ill on a blameless child, but I would like to see some karmic justice for those who played an active part in the whole monstrosity.)

I am less vexed and I am sorry for the theater community who lost Ryan.

I wonder if I have done enough with these last ten years to warrant the extra time and I am not at all entirely convinced that this is my time and not someone ‘s.

It makes me wonder what I should do with the rest of it. I can’t just let it sit on the shelf like the  Indoor S’more’s maker that I’m afraid to use because it might set fire to the house.

But I am a little less prone to making sarcastic references to that handful of folk who kind of wished that I hadn’t survived,because things would be simpler (Don’t pretend you don’t exist, I’m pretty sure I know who you are.)

It doesn’t matter.

I win this round.

Ryan, you will be missed.

Give Mr. Steve a big  hug and tell Larry to light you up a miracle for the rest of us.



It’s Brain Day! or thoughts left sticking to the bottom, part 1

Published July 27, 2013 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I think this is going to be a two-parter because I had something truly touching and warm to say, but then I got distracted by itunes, so I’m sure that later on I will realize that I left something out, so let’s consider this the beginning.

Ten years ago today I had a hemorrhagic stroke. This excitement added a little zest, zip and zing into what was already a truly crappy summer.  If you  are having such a rough time that  a week long coma is the best way out of it, you are not doing a good job with your life.

I have been ruminating about the events of that day and of the last ten years and while I was thinking/trying to lull myself into a nap, I was notified that an actor friend of mine, Ryan Roach, had a stroke early this morning and is not expected to recover.

Ryan and I are the same age.

It gives me a moment of Keanu “whoa”, because it makes me realize that things could easily have been very different. I want to believe that Ryan will make it.

If I had a massive stroke today, I don’t know what I would choose.  At this point, I don’t know if I’ve done enough to redeem myself for the extra bit of time that I got.

Given the choice, I’m not sure.

It’s a puzzler.

Actor Boy is hear to celebrate with me and it’s helping  me not focus on the what I don’t haves, like my husband and my best friend.  I have my Actor boy, my mom, my dad and my brother.

Thus far I trotted Actor Boy out to be stared at by the folk who usually share my Saturdays and we met my mom for an early movie.

I had a cold coffee beverage and some baked cheetos. Later on I will be meeting my parents and my brother for a lush dinner.

I have prayed for Ryan and entered a plea or two on his behalf with the universe.

I will be doing the best I can to focus on the bright side and not be a downer on the what I don’t haves.

And there will be vodka (premium, because, what am I? A savage.)

And there will probably be more writing.

Hang in there Ryan, one more year. I will if you will.

It’s news to me.

Published July 24, 2013 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

Every now and then I like to check in with what’s happening on the planet.  (Mostly I just make a list of the absolute minimum I must do on any given day. That doesn’t mean that I won’t do the list or actually try to achieve things, but sometimes I like to shake things up.)

I’m not trying to be an ass, but since the major shake-up in my life and income, I have gotten rid of my satellite television and am reliant on Hulu or Netflix for my televised entertainment, so if it’s not on the Daily show, which I get the next day, I don’t usually know what’s happening in the world. (Although I did know that Dennis Farina had died before anyone else in my family  did.  Go figure, I would know something marginally related to Unsolved Mysteries and Law and Order.)

First of all, I must say that Duchess Kate is showing a great deal of grace and civility by not screaming, “Will you people for God’s sake get out of my vagina?” or “Isn’t their a war or famine you people should be investigating?”

So in the news, that apparently doesn’t warrant investigation is that 94 immigrants were found packed in a truck in Mexico. To put a face on this, you can’t pack half that number of kids on a school bus.  That’s 94 people so desperate to change their lives that they would sardine themselves to get anywhere else.

I think that is of slightly more importance than invading a couple’s privacy as they welcome their child. I had to search for this story, because apparently Ted Nugent poking the racist bear and celebrity cousins and Kris Jenner’s balking at being called Grandma is more newsworth.

Is it crazy in here or is it just me?

Published July 23, 2013 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I realize that anything I say in my defense only makes me sound crazier.  My friend James says that it’s a good kind of crazy. (Actually he said that he has four cats and collects Star Wars figures so maybe he wasn’t the best judge of crazy.)

I don”t know how I should take that.

It has been a long day. There has been a headache building dully in most of my head all day. It hasn’t really slowed me down much, just enough to make me leave my shopping list at home.( I forgot bread and bug spray) So unless I planned to to either eat a poison sandwich or lure bugs into my house with toast and jam, I’m ok.)

The headache continued to build and I started to advance panic because you know, my head is just a time bomb waiting to go off. It’s a neat trick but I already did it, so I would have to top that incident. Or, hey, just not do it.

I have a good friend who is much smarter and sciencey than I and she once told me that the cracks in the human skull respond to changes in the barometric pressure.  Believe me, it is a relief to know that the headache is caused by the head gnome using his barometer as a lever to crank up the pressure in my head. And just in case that’s not enough to make me crazy, the gnome sees to have worked out a deal with Google Chrome.  A Chrome Gnome, if you will.

In the course of the time it has taken me to dazzle you with today’s report from the crazy front, Google chrome has crashed no less than 5 times.  I don’t know who is responsible for this. (perhaps the time weasels are setting up with Internet Explorer.  That is if the explorer in question was the kind that got lost on the search. )

It’s maddening. But it’s time for bed.

I wrote a review today that contained the phrase Warning: Multiple Alien Partners.

Tomorrow must be better.  Instead of reviewing the cheese, I will be writing the cheese.

How well do I want to be able to see? and other questions I ask myself when I’m preparing

Published July 22, 2013 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I am trying to do new and exciting things. I realize that for someone who loves knowledge (and in fact, yearns for it) I don’t really follow through with grand adventures.

I generally don’t like to do anything that requires me to wear real pants.

I made the mistake of musing aloud that I was thinking about auditioning for the upcoming production of Romeo and Juliet.

I should have kept my big muse shut.

Once I said it, I had to do it. ( I strive to always do what I say I am going to.)

I tried to use the excuse of not having the time to find and prepare a Shakespeare monologue. Then I harkened back to the last twenty years or so of my life which included several classes in performance, some that I attended and some that I taught.  Then some weisenheimer, probably one of my former students, reminded me that I should always be prepared and as I professional, shouldn’t I always have a Shakespearean monologue ready to go?

I hate it when they pay attention only to zing me later.

So I psyched myself up (not out, for an exciting change) polished my monologue and got my act and clothes together.

I am one of those people who is a firm believer in dressing well for an audition.  It’s shows respect for the director.

As I was contemplating my heap of make-up (I have a lot of make-up for someone who doesn’t really go anywhere.) I wondered if I should wear my glasses or contacts.

At this point in my career, most directors realize that what they see is what they get, a chunky  middle-aged chick with pretty good skin, so it doesn’t really matter and the choice was up to me.   Then I had to decide how well I wanted to see.  (The right contact lens with the correct prescription is slightly torn on the edge and feels a little pokey. I have a spare right lens that’s a little off, but not pokey. The left lens is actually ok.)   My glasses look great, but I don’t feel fantastic performing in them and if there’s a lot of movement, I don’t want them to fly off. (I realize that no one is going to ask me to do a tumbling pass, nor am I going to volunteer to attempt this, so I probably could have just worn the glasses.)

Anyway, I went with the non-pokey, slightly worse vision. I auditioned. I did my monologue.  I found my light. I took direction and didn’t  blow any lines.  I read a scene a couple of times.

The director didn’t barf or cough or otherwise voice any displeasure.

I feel pretty good about it.

I realize that if I am cast, I will have to leave the house more often. I think the pants are negotiable.

Is it crazy to make a poncho for a platypus?

Published July 20, 2013 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

Bill is a Fabricated American platypus.  Right now he’s sitting on the dining room table trying to keep the cat away from the good dishes.  He’s doing an admirable job. He didn’t even laugh when I spilled my coffee on the edge of the table, thus soiling the table cloth.  He hasn’t even given me the stink eye of not changing the table cloth yet because he knows that I have a lot of soul robbing things to do and haven’t had the time to rearrange the good dishes so I can launder the linens.

He’s very practical and patient.

I guess he is more highly evolved than the rest of us. (A little platypus joke. He thinks it’s hilarious.)

I have been teaching myself to crochet in the evenings.  The main reason is to relax myself when my brain is too full from trying to slam out 5,000 word short stories and editing other people’s lengthy tomes.

Every time I walk past the table to my craft tub,  (yes there is ONE tiny area of my life that has some semblance of organization.  True the various yarns and tools are in a heap, but the said heap is contained in the tub. Bill wants me to name the heap Uriah.  Strange sense of humor on that guy.) I notice Bill keep his constant vigilance on the dishes.  I always wonder if perhaps he might like a garment, a poncho perhaps.   I can’t get him a t-shirt and pants.

That would be ridiculous.


Vent to prevent Explosion

Published July 20, 2013 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I spent some time with a former student yesterday. He is a grown up now, so it’s ethical. Speaking of ethics, I try to stay on the right side of most things, meaning I make it a point to be courteous and kind and just generally nice to people.  I have even been known to pick up Fabricated Americans who have been tossed higgledy-piggledy by careless folk.   ( They should be placed right end up, so the fluff doesn’t run to their heads.  A fluff headache makes for a crabby buddy, which you don’t want, unless your buddy is a crab.)

These ethics have kept me from cheating and/or writing papers for other people.  I could clean up,  monetarily if I chose to, but I don’t because I have those pesky ethics.

These ethics are why I  provide links to anything I use from other sites. This is documentation and citing my resources so that the writers of this content can get credit for their thought provoking or rage inducing material.

I got my nose snapped with the rolled up newspaper because the site admins thought I was using this outside links to promote a business.

I am not.

I am trying to do the right thing.

But because someone else screwed this pooch for their own profit and gain (ewww!) I was temporarily penalized.

It almost makes you want to run amok and unfold shirts at the Gap or scramble the books and rumple the magazines at Barnes and Noble or commit some other benign pain in the assery.

But I won’t.


It’s much more satisfying to scream when you say that.  Try it.

Magic pointing bones: Why I can’t get my act together.

Published July 18, 2013 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

As I may have mentioned and has been observed, I have a natural tendency to wander. Wander in the literal and figurative sense. I am starting to believe that the universe is setting me up for some wildly intricate and bizarre practical joke. I am always vaguely apprehensive.

My Amanda friend offered a reasonable explanation of why such weird things happen to me in the course of one day, or even over the length of time that it takes me to walk from one room to the next. She suggested that perhaps there are several plains of existence converging on one spot in my house, thus explaining the Mystery of the Reappearing Roach Corpse and the fact that I can have one clear concise idea in my head and by the time I reach the next room something truly bizarre has occurred to me.

My degree in research has taught me that ideas become emergent for a reason.  Today’s mad phrase of the day is Magic Pointing Bones. The phrase popped out of the podcast “Stuff you missed in History class.” (Yes, I still listen to this in spite of the horrifying pronunciation incident.  My desire to learn far outweighs my disgust.)

The ceremony of bone pointing is a common ritual for bringing sickness among the [Australian] Arunta. The pointing bone or pointing stick is usually about nine inches in length, pointed at one end, and tipped with a lump of resin at the other. The stick is endowed with magical power by being ‘sung over,’ that is, curses are muttered over it, such as ‘may your heart be rent asunder’ and ‘may your head and throat be split open.’ On the evening of the day on which the bone has been ‘sung’ the wizard creeps stealthily in the shadows until he can see the victim’s face clearly by the firelight. He then points the bone in the victim’s direction and utters in a low tone the curses with which the stick was endowed earlier in the day. The victim is supposed to sicken and die within a month at the most. Two men may cooperate in the pointing operation. Spears may also be endowed with magic by ‘singing’ over them. A person who knows that he has been injured, even slightly, with a spear thus prepared will be likely to waste away through fear unless counter magic can be brought to his aid.

Practical application: the scene in the Color Purple where Celie casts a bony finger in Danny Glover’s direction and curses him to a life of ill fortune until he does right by her.

I think this is the perfect illustration of what’s going on in my head and why I can’t get any work done today.