the gun debate

Too many shootings. Just too many. *shakes head* In what seems an instant, a cold-blooded coward takes the lives of innocent people. And, as if to snub Justice, turns the gun on himself - the most cowardly act of all.

We've all heard the debates...

1. Guns are too easy to get. Guns should be under tighter restrictions or banned altogether.
   
2. There should be more guns available to law abiding citizens.

I have to say I am more of the side 2 mentality, but not because I believe that these instances would have a different outcome (though partially, at least, I believe that the number killed could be at least partially mitigated). It's because I believe that by law abiding citizens having the ability to carry their weapons concealed and for personal defense, and not be restricted as to where they may carry, it would stand as a major deterrent for these nutjobs.

But, of course, we're talking about crazy mother fuckers here, so with that in mind, I shall continue with my thoughts...

When is the last time you heard of a cowardly killer going to a police department or a military base or an NRA meeting and carrying out a shooting? That's right, never. Because in all of those instances, even a messed up wannabe murderer knows that there are no easy targets in those situations.

These campus killings, store shootings, etc, all have one thing in common - they happened in situations where sane, law-abiding citizens were prevented, by law, from protecting themselves or others. These innocent victims were asked to place themselves in a situation where they were fish in a barrel - ripe for the picking by whatever crazy-ass lunatic burst through the doors.

Getting rid of guns, having stricter gun laws does NOTHING to prevent whackjobs from carrying out these horrific murders. Because criminals will always be criminals. They don't care about tighter gun laws any more than they care about gun-free school zones any mroe than they care about paying sales tax. They will find guns, they will kill people with them, and it's just the average Joes and Janes who will be left with absolutely no recourse whatsoever to fight back. And don't even get me started on knives, mace, etc.

Just you try bringing a can of pepper spray to a gunfight.

necesito aprender español. google no funcionará más.

"Olle vato, que paso? Yo soy con mi mi que no? Cayate puto!"

That's what hubby's friend's wife said to say to my neighbor - who is outside right now (11:33pm CST) shoveling his driveway. Seriously. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU. You live in a dense residential area (dark green for you Sim City fans)... where the houses are 10 feet apart, tops...

what
the
fuck
is
wrong
with
you?

Tonight we had 1 inch of snow, maybe 2, tops.

The other night (we got about 5 inches overnight), he was out at 12am shoveling - and his toddler was outside with him...

This has to be against the noise ordinance, right? I mean there wasn't enough snow there to get stuck in. Seriously.

WTFIWWY?

I should open the door right now and say "¿Dónde está mi pistola?"

Alas, I am scantly clad - it's 11:38pm, after all.

the middle road

Last night was my intermediate comedy class graduation show... I didn't go up.

I am not sure what went wrong with this class - or rather not just one thing led me to these feelings. Maybe I'm just a bitch - but this was in no way an "Intermediate" class. The majority of the class had also been with me in the beginner class (which was a prerequisite for the Intermediate class). I really feel that had I had a chance to be in a class with those who had been doing comedy on a regular basis for a year or more, things may have been different. From day one of the class through last night, the instructor and even the co-instructors had no idea I had been doing comedy for well over a year - on a regular basis.

And while I don't think I'm good - hell, most times I struggle with doing an OK job, I'm not a nuts and bolts beginner. But I was treated that way. I know how it feels to get up in front of a primed audience who is there to laugh at everything you say. I know how that feels - it feels great... and I love that I have had that experience already - but that wasn't what I was looking for from the Intermediate class.

I wanted to network, to get some tips to write better, to perform better , to network and to be seen by the booker at the club.

Honestly, the class made me dislike doing comedy. Made me dislike writing comedy (which I already struggled with) and made what little confidence I'd built up over the past year and a half crumble beneath me.

Not fat enough to tell fat jokes - when in reality I'm not that much smaller than the biggest guy that was in my class. Not white enough to talk about how white I am - but I am truly whiter than the guy who used that for nearly 3.5 of his five minutes. And from week to week - the criticism I got directly contradicted what I heard previously. The criticism I had acted on and worked hard to remedy for the current class. I was lost - and the work I was putting in - for nothing. What I had on paper didn't even sound like me... and it was worse on stage. I was just reciting lines.

I emailed the class organizer last Friday and hope he'd have passed onto the instructor I wasn't going to go up (and even why) - but he didn't. So I had to deal with "Just go up, you'll love it." badgering from the instructor up to show time. Never mind he didn't care WHY I wasn't going up... he didn't even ask... And I didn't bother to tell anyone in class why I wasn't going up. I didn't want to cause a scene or any other such. Well, those who read this blog know - but I didn't go up last night - not because I'm chicken - I LOVE the stage. I LOVE comedy. I didn't go up because it would have been someone else up there, telling jokes I didn't believe in, that I didn't find funny, that I didn't feel represented me.

You see, I want to work hard - and then do my best. And if I fail, I fail because I didn't work hard enough, or didn't write well enough. And if I succeeed, I want to know I got that laugh because I worked damn hard for it. I want to earn my responses - good or bad.

So, given all of that, the way I saw/see it - I had 3 options:

1. Do the material "I've" written in class - and unfortunately I don't feel comfortable with, I'm not committed to it and and I don't feel like it's me - so that option means not being true to myself.
2. Do my own material I do believe in, which is disrespectful to the instructor and what he's asked for in the class.
3. Refrain from participating but be there to support my classmates by being in the audience.
   

So right before the show, just before the instructor came around with the order (he had me in the 2 spot, and was going to put me up regardless of what I said), one of the co-instructors actually took a few minutes to sit down and ask me why I wasn't going up. I told him all of it, and he seemed like he understood. I really appreciated that. He gave me his email address in case I ever want some feedback (and I do).

And right up until I walked out the door last night, people were commenting on how one day I'd get up there, and that I'd love it and they'd probably see me at open mics someday.

Someday...

This did do one thing for me - it solidified WHY I do comedy - for ME. It IS all about me - and if I'm not going to go up and be me, I'm not going to go up at all.

next stop: frustration station

I'm so frustrated with comedy right now.

I have been busting my ass for weeks now trying to nail down a new five minute set for a class I'm taking in Chicago. I really was hoping this would be a point where I could really hunker down and come up with some new material and solidify who I thought I was as a comic, but it's turned out to be the opposite.

Each week I have left class more frustrated than the week before. Each week I don't just show up, I really believe I've come prepared, acting on the feedback previously given, and really trying to turn on a new persona - and get away from resting on fat jokes. And each week I walk away feeling like I've accomplished NOTHING.

Last week I wrote and wrote and wrote and sent some stuff to a couple of my old comedy buddies in Texas for some feedback - and Dondo was right - it was ALL crap. It wasn't me. It wasn't funny. So I spent nearly 8 hours straight refining my premises, going over line by line - making sure my setups/punches/tags proved my premise. And I felt really good about 2 of the 3 of my bits, only to get another night of relentless unconstructive criticism.

And I *know* I hear more negatives than positives, I'm like that. And life's hard, princess - not everyone's going to like me. And comedy's hard. And I don't need my ego stroked ALL the time. But when you cough up a few hundred dollars, you'd hope there'd be something constructive there.

I've found this class harder to deal with than some of the toughest open mic nights I've ever been to. Should a class I've paid for and put so much into make me feel worse than getting heckled by drunk, unemployed men in a dark Irish pub when I haven't really prepared?

I'm not enjoying myself. I'm not having fun. And yes, I know comedy is HARD work, but it should also be fun, shouldn't it? And worse is that my instructor really isn't enjoying himself, either - which makes me feel like I'm not trying hard enough as a student.

So "graduation" is a little over a week away - on stage in front of a good number of folks I'd invited a few weeks ago when I believe I would have something worth seeing. Now I want to uninvite them. And I don't want the club booker to see what I've got - cause I don't feel like it's me.

I don't believe in my material. I don't believe in my new persona and I don't believe I've much of anything good to preform. And sadly, I don't believe I got a good value for what I've spent.

Urgh.

Your privates are not private

In the news, recently, has been story after story about a Maine Middle School who has approved giving birth control to its students.

Ok, without recapping the whole story, here's a breakdown of the facts, as I have understood them:

1. The school has a health center.
2. Students, with parent's permission, can utilize the health center for their health needs.
3. The school board has recently approved those who have parental permission to utilize the health center to get birth control pills (among other contraceptives).

Ok, so we can ALL agree that an 11 year should not be having sex. An 11 year old should really have the fear of God put into them and be told that their netherreggions will grow full of some scary monster if they have sex... but - ok, we all agree - MIDDLE SCHOOLERS SHOULD NOT BE HAVING SEX.

But thanks to our wonderful society and un-engaged parents, kids are becoming more and more wannabe adults. And thus, some kids are going to have sex.

I should say here, that my 7th grade year in middle school (back in 88), my cousin was pregnant - an eighth grader. And she wasn't the only one. So I know it happens.

Now, my entire blog post here isn't really about the health center, or the birth control, it's about another issue that struck me while listening to this news story: Kids who are approved to use the health center, and who request birth control - those kids - can do so without their parents even knowing what they're asking for or being given.

Ok, WTF? What the fuck?

When I was 11 I had no privacy. NONE. My parents knew everything I did. When I wanted to go spend the night at a friend's house, my mom would call her mom, and they'd talk, and agree, and then I could go. No talk, no go. There was nothing in my 11-year-old-life my parents didn't know.

Apparently there is a law on the books in Maine that protects the privacy of minors. Even from their parents.

What the fuck? Again, I ask you, WHAT THE FUCK!?

Until I was the age of 18 and had moved out of my house, my parents had every right to know every detail of what was going on in my life. And those parents, whether or not they give permission for their tax breaks to get to use the health center, should be able to count on knowing what's going on in that health center, as it relates to their child.

The problem isn't the school, or the birth control or the health center - the problem is the obnoxious law that prevents the parents and guardians of minors from knowing what is being put into their children's bodies!

I don't recall a doctor's visit when I was in middle school that my mom wasn't in the room for. I couldn't get a prescription for an ear infection without my parent's picking it up for me at the pharmacy - now we're protecting the PRIVACY RIGHTS of children who cant' even realize that at the age of 10, 11 and 12 they're TOO YOUNG to be having sex?

OMG.

So these little prostitots are off fucking around, get birth control, and the parents aren't let in on this big secret becauese the kids are protected? Good lawwwwddd!

Let me guarantee you, if I were 11, having sex --- within seconds of my folks finding out, I would have had all the birth control I would have needed. Most likely in the form of a wooden spoon or some other such.

The only privacy law my parents instilled in me was that as long as I was living in their home, under their rules, and under the age of 18, nothing was private - unless they let it be that way.