"Then I applied myself to the understanding of wisdom, and also of madness and folly, but I learned that this, too, is a chasing after the wind." Ecclesiastes 1:17
I couldn't hear the Director of Photography calling me by the wrong name as I was engaged in conversation with the stand in actress beside me. Quite possibly the only two women who have both been to Salzburg for the Sound of Music Tour and think the word Cunt can be sexy were discussing our similarities on a freezing cold set, while the name KIM resonated off the faux hospital walls, halting production. Oh dear, I hope they ask me back.
I don't write about my life in New York anymore as it has become just that...Life. A string of days which blend together in some sort of 'I should know where I'm going light', but dissatisfaction seems to shadow the shine.
Cunt doesn't bother me. The C word does. As does the N word. We've fallen so hopelessly in line with political correctness and prescription drugs, we only seem to take off the mask behind closed doors. Until the words are out of our derogatory vernacular, we shouldn't be referring to them by their beginning consonant as a nicety.
Speaking of behind closed doors, I don't find the word sexy when my husband is spouting off in a petty ridiculous fit of rage that worries me and cracks a five year foundation. Its one thing to be called the wrong name.
Marriage is hard. Autonomy though isolating, is a butter cream frosted cake walk. I pray for discernment and a sweet taste in my mouth.
It's true, after I've stepped over one too many tattooed covered bodies and their dirty empty bottles, come face to face with the werewolves and devils that run the streets, and realized that half the town is racing for some heightened pole position often through posturing, do I realize my limbs are tired from fighting back the inclination to become my surroundings.
Been thinking that I would find satisfaction in motherhood, then I catch a glimpse of the tired mom's hoisting diapered butts in wet swings at Tompkins Square Park and I think better of the conventional notion. I wonder when the toddlers replaced the needles and spoons...
Oh yeah, and then there's the name calling, I would detest perpetuating.
At this point in the show, do we just play the laugh track, keep calm, and carry on?
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