Mama Who Bore Me

So, today I got called out by mom. She calls me out for this every year, but there was a bit of a dare attached to it this year.

I’m one of these assholes that hates buying cards. I think the greeting card industry is one of the more superfluous big businesses in America. I mean, for fuck’s sake, I’m an artist. I can write pages about a drug addict and a zombie hunting cannibals and chupacabra. I can express the very depths of my soul and expose everything that I am to the entire world. I can lay bare my insecurities, and tell the world I don’t have this shit figured out, but that’s ok, I’m working on it. But I gotta go pay 5 bucks for a piece of cardstock some dude got paid to arrange some words in such a trite and cliche manner that when paired with some lace, frills, the right font, and a pretty design, may elicit emotion?

Fuck that noise.

What’s more, fuck that noise if you’re NOT an artist. ESPECIALLY if you’re not an artist, because those words in that card are probably not words that you would have ever come up with on your own.

Remember macaroni art and stick figures? Big lopsided hand drawn hearts? Fingerpainted pictures with big smushed together letters that read “ILOVEYUO”? Construction paper hearts that weren’t perfectly cut out, with doilies glued to them? That’s the real shit. That’s art. That’s heartfelt. But, we get older, and we see stuff. Artists actualizing their potential. People better at expressing how they feel than we are. So, we somehow get this idea in our head that because someone can sum up our feelings better, we should allow them to do it. That instead of giving our mother macaroni art at 18-24, you can go out to wal-mart and buy a pretty card.

I say nay-nay.

Here’s what it boils down to. As of right now, I don’t have much in the way of accomplishment under my belt. YET. And if we’re being entirely honest, that’s what I’ve been waiting for. Because she knows I love her. I tell her all the time. It’s just a matter of holding out til I have something new for her to be proud of to include with said expression.

I know in my heart that at least one of my films is going to be inspired somehow by my mother. It’s a foregone conclusion. Family is one of the top 5 sources of inspiration for any artist, whether it be good or bad.

While I know that just like that macaroni art, or that heart-shaped rock, anything that heartfelt is going to mean a great deal; in the grand scheme of things, what I say right now isn’t going to mean nearly as much as when I present my mother with a private screening of a film that’s dedicated to her and the many things I’ve learned from and because of her in my life. When she sees her name up there in the special thanks section, or dedicated to section of a film written and directed by Josh Fonner. And I know she may say different. She has to. She’s gonna say that heart-shaped rock means just as much as a film dedicated to her, but let’s be honest here, it’s ok to be more proud of one than the other, which is what I’m expecting.

So here mum, for this year, this is my Hallmark card. This is me telling you that I’d be completely lost without you. That you’ve had a hand in a good 85% of who I am. That my sense of humor, writing style, and personality in general wouldn’t be what they are, hell, who I am as a person would simply NOT BE if it weren’t for you. So…I mean…for right now…that’s really all I’ve got that you can show for 24 years of work. Do with it what you will. I love you.

Thank God this moment’s not the last.

The Surfside Player’s 2012 production of RENT is officially in the can. So, ready or not, time for a Spatter Pattern debrief.

So, our final performance was a matinee. 2pm Sunday. Our previous two matinees had less than 100 people each. Sunday? We had 150. In all, over the course of the production, over 900 people saw me and my new found friends sing and dance our hearts out.

Bittersweet is the biggest understatement of the feelings that were coursing through me as we took our final bows. The entire second act was rough for us all emotionally. In particular, during I’ll Cover You (Reprise) (The funeral scene). Jesse (our Mark) has this bit of monologue, he takes center stage and basically gives part of a eulogy. I could hear his voice cracking as he was giving it. His monologue ends, and he turns around. His face was beet red and streaming with tears. I lost it. I said I had cried before after the whole Becky thing, but this? Wow. Just wow. I don’t like to allow myself to be seen like that in public, let alone on stage. It was probably one of the most REAL moments I’ve ever been a part of.

So, I’ve caught the bug. Officially. As long as 1) I have the time/resources and 2) there are directors out there brave enough to put me on a stage, I’ll be there.

If it doesn’t seem too self-indulgent, I’d like to end this blog post detailing what I’m thankful for in regards to this experience:

First and foremost, to the director, stage manager, and music director: Words can’t begin to express how grateful I am that you were willing to cast EXTREMELY outside the norm for this show. Not only taking a chance on a theatre virgin, but one so…outside of normal aesthetics. Also, thank you for being patient with me during rehearsals as I was finding my singing voice. I really hope I get to work with you all again at some point.

To the band: Out of anything that happened, something that struck me the most was how honest and transparent you all were with us. And you listened to all of us bitch incessantly without telling us to shut up!

Finally, to my cast-mates: What can I say? I walked into a room full of people I had never met in my life a month and a half ago, and stood arm in arm with a stage full of family as we took our final bows on Sunday afternoon. I love all of you. Some of you may have noticed the fact that I’m not exactly as confident as I let on, but being around you all made it where that didn’t matter. You accepted me. Where I was, for who I was. This fact will NEVER be lost on me. My most sincere prayer is that we always have AT LEAST what we’ve had these past 6-8 weeks. I hope to work with all of you again at some point, and truth be told, if all goes according to plan, I’m banking on the fact that at SOME point, after film school, I will.

This feels like I’m writing the last page of a chapter. The epilogue of a short story in my life. I look forward to seeing how these characters and lessons learned crop up elsewhere.

How do you leave the past behind when it keeps finding ways to get to your heart….

…..be in a musical. I know I’m not the only one who’s gotten some major closure in the last month by being in a production. I’m not looking for a relationship yet, and probably won’t be for a long time, but we’re getting there.

I texted Becky during opening night of RENT, because she was due back from her trip while my phone was off, and I never got to make sure she made it home ok. I did. She texted back. I asked if we could talk, she said only if it was just as friends. I said goodbye (GOODBYE goodbye), and then I went on stage for a funeral scene. It was fitting, and poetic, and the only time thus far I’ve actually teared up during that scene.

It’s been a little over a week since then. The only time I’ve actually thought of her (other than a minor slip-up while WILDLY inebriated on my birfday) other than to try to conjure up tears during I’ll Cover You (Reprise). I know, I know…a week, woo-hoo. But it’s a start.

As previously stated, I don’t think want a relationship right now. I can feel that. But physical contact would be nice. Really nice. I’m kind of in a “I have feelings for multiple people, and I also want to bang the collective brains out of said people, but I don’t want the sex drive and the feelings to mix right now” space right now. I know it’s probably not the most psychologically healthy thing to differentiate like that and sexually detach, but it’s kind of just happening.

*Sigh*…spose it’s something to work on.

Downward Spiral

So, here’s where I’m at. I’m not sleeping well. At all. Haven’t been for the past two weeks, and it’s really starting to take it’s toll. When I DO sleep it’s tending to be in short bursts. On top of that, when I finally get to sleep long enough to hit REM and actually get some rest, I’ve been having these terrible nightmares that I can’t fully remember, I just know they’re terrifying. So, add all that up, and you get me. Zombie Josh, on autopilot. Shuffling through life, forgetting shit, worrying people, and generally being a hot mess. I do my job. I go home. Maybe eat. Maybe watch an episode or two of a TV show. Close my eyes. Lose some time. Open them unrested. Shower. Drive to Cocoa (when called for). Rehearse. Eat something. Repeat. And then on weekends, I lose more time than normal, and get high. A lot. Only on weekends.

So, because of this zombie like state, people are worried about me, my mom’s crying, treating me like one of her fucking patients and on me about everything. I don’t wanna go to the doctor, I’m sick of people spitballing with me and throwing me on all kinds of different medications. Also, I tried Lunesta before, didn’t work, and I’m afriad Ambien might cause sleepwalking in me. Melatonin doesn’t work. Clonodine doesn’t even work anymore. Meanwhile…I just wanna sleep.

And may the odds be ever in your favor…

So, I went and saw the Hunger Games movie on Friday morning. I’ll be entirely honest, most of what got me out to see it that quick was a sense of obligation.

Bex turned me onto the Hunger Games oh so long ago (It’s almost 2 years at this point). Most people aren’t aware of what was going on at the time (hell, I’m not even ENTIRELY sure, it was REALLY fucking complicated), but suffice it to say I REALLY identified with Peeta.

So, I guess if you really want me to get all sentimental and fucking dive into my psyche, the fact that they were making a movie has been kind of like a glimmer of hope. We had even had conversations about seeing it together. Then December, and January happened.

I’m just gonna come right out and say it, I’ve never loved anyone like I love Becky. I highly doubt I ever will. And yes, present tense. Of COURSE I still love her. I know, it makes me damaged goods, with more baggage chained to me, if there’s something I don’t do though, it’s hold back feelings. I mean, yeah, I guess I’m not really “on the market” if I’m still pining for her. How long’s that gonna last? *sigh*, who fucking knows. It’s gotten to a point where she’s all so tangled up in who I am that it feels like it’s never gonna happen.

*DIGRESSION* I will say though, it’s not always gonna be like that. I saw a picture of Jess the other day and thought, “What the FUCK was I thinking?!”, and I mean…that’s how you know you’ve moved on, right? *DIGRESSION*

OMG, What happened? I had this weird daydream where I was writing a blog and it turned out as ADD as I am and….oh, wait…that’s this.

So, I went. I knew I shouldn’t have. Especially opening weekend, but I did.

The results were as expected. Most of my problems with the film are fanboy problems. I give it 4/5. HOWEVER, that’s only coincendental to the overall theme of this post.

The Rue scene happened. I cried. It was a good scene. I knew if the Rue scene was good, I was done for. Shortly after that was the cave scene. If you’ve read Hunger Games you know what I’m talking about. Pretty much from the cave through the end, I was on and off crying.

The most disturbing part, is that when Katniss is all dolled up at the end talking to Cesar, I saw her. Like, Katniss all dolled up reminded me of her, facially. It was rough.

So, where do I stand on the whole “Getting over Becky” thing? I don’t. I’m not really standing. Hopefully I get there. Soon.

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred……

So, I haven’t brought this to the Pattern yet, but here goes.

I GOT CAST IN A LOCAL PRODUCTION OF RENT!!!

I’m in the chorus in the Surfside Playhouse production of Rent.

I originally tried out for Collins, and I wanted it really badly (and still do at some point in the future in another production), but after a week and a half of rehearsals, I’m glad I didn’t get it.

Mainly because this is my first REAL stage production. I’ve done shitty little church plays and what not, but this…

Ok, flashback to 2006. I’m 17. Rent the movie comes out on DVD. Everyone in my circle of friends and family insists it looks stupid, but I’m drawn to it. One viewing is all it took. I was hooked. I watched it and listened to the soundtrack incessantly. I knew it like the back of my hand.

2006 was a fucking comedy of errors for me, but by the end of the year, I had become a RENThead. A TRUE RENThead. Meaning I had seen it on stage when the national tour came into town, and I stopped listening to the OST in favor of the OBC.

I’ve loved it ever since. I even paid the $20 to go see the film of the final broadway performance. Suffice it to say Rent’s been a big part of my life for the past 6 years.

May of last year, I happened upon the Surfside Playhouse’s 2011-2012 schedule, and OMGOSH, they’re doing RENT?! Yep. That’s right. I’ve been waiting for this for 9 – 10 months.

And I made it.

Rehearsals have been good, but just REALLY skeletal up til tonight. Tonight we did a dry run of everything we hadn’t practiced into the ground thus far. It gave me goosebumps, and I almost cried at the end. And we’re in VERY early rehearsals. The show’s gonna make me blubber …I know it.

It took that experience for it to click, though. I’m in Rent. I made it. I’m in Rent. Holy fuck. I AM good enough.

So yeah. I cried all the way from rehearsal to work.

Happy tears.

Separation Anxiety

This week-ish seemed to be the breaking point. When the bullshit got SO thick, the kill switch kicked in.

So, here I sit. Shut off. There’s a method to my madness, though.

FIRST, Mom’s divorcing the psychopath. It was SO difficult holding back the sigh of relief when she told me.

SECOND, I got a wild hair up my ass and decided to ask this one girl out who there’s been mutual attraction with for awhile. It’s Long Distance. I know, it’s getting pathological with me, but fuck it, right? Anyway, I’m SURE it was the rehearsals and lovey music for Rent getting to me that caused it, and it didn’t end well, and now she’s being all clingy and weird even though she said no right now.

THIRD, The Ben situation. *sigh*. Ok, here’s the deal. I love my brother so much. I can’t stand to see him walk out into minefields. So, I won’t. I mean…gosh dammit, I’m almost 24 years old. It’s just…not my job anymore. You want to date my whore of an ex? You made your choice, now there are consequences. Main one being, I’m just not going to be around you that much if she is.

I think at this point in my life, it’s gotten to a point where I have to separate the people in my life, from the people that they date. I know, it’s not fair to the people that they date/marry. Oh well. I would say with the exclusion of my immediate family, and 5 or 6 other loved ones, the world’s pretty expendable. People come into your life, you have a good time with them for a while, and then one of you does something fucking stupid and neither of you want to talk again. Hell, this has happened with people that, less than a year ago, I would have put in that “5 or 6 other loved ones” category. It’s just a fact of life. You want something you can count on? You’re gonna die. Sooner or later. Some sooner. Some later. So, do what you legally, plausibly can to have as much fun in your life as possible. While you can.

I’m sorry, I’m digressing SO hardcore right now, I’ve just been feeling rant-y and I don’t exactly have a BROADCAST OUTLET anymore. Fucking decrepit puritan. It’s bad when I can’t tell when you look creepier, with or without a mustache.

Anyway, back to Ben. Friday, I talked to Ben, and made plans to take him out for lunch on this Thursday, for his birfday. Yesterday, Ben, her, and her kid were over for St. Patrick’s Day dinner. It was bad enough I had to interact then, but Ben and I are having a serious conversation (the subject of which will be made clear during the next bullet point), and she decides to fucking wander in and hang on. A+B convo. C yourself out. Gosh damn. Today was Ben’s birfday. As is customary, there’s a dinner with family. I didn’t go. See above statement about separation as self preservation, I have plans with him on Thursday, and I’m sorry, said “family dinner” was a little light on family. Apparently he got upset I didn’t go. Fuck. My. Life.

FOURTH, tying this into Ben, her family is batshit insane. I mean, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree at ALL, but the whole clan’s pretty fucking bad. That being said, her OLDER SISTER (whom I’ve never met and only know of because one of my other friends knocked the sister up a couple times) is making up disparaging rumors about me. REALLY disparaging rumors. And may I remind you, I’VE NEVER EVEN MET THE BITCH. Ben believes me, obviously, because I’m not a fucking scumbag, so that talk went fine, but that was the one where she fucking moseyed in, so it got awkward.

FIFTH, and finally. My mom thinks I hate her. This is ridiculous in and of itself. I have a lot of feelings about my parents that probably won’t come out for anything less than therapy, but NEVER let it be said I don’t love my mother. First off, she’s getting a divorce and nearing menopause, so that emotional wheel of fortune is anything but. But the main reason she thinks it, is I’m separating myself from everyone but a select few. Here’s why. This is the first time I’ve explained this to anyone. I’m moving within the next 3 months. To Orlando. New life. New start. On my OWN. I mean, I’ll be near my dad, and within driving distance of mom, but it’ll be unlike anything me or any of my brothers have experienced yet. (I don’t count Ben moving out with her. Moving out WITH someone is a fucking cop out) So, if I start to distance myself now and also cut ties with people I know don’t appreciate me in their life, separation anxiety will be FAR lessened, and loneliness and depression won’t be a real factor.

So yeah, for fuck’s sake, let me smoke my “legal weed”, enjoy my life, and get ready to move out, because it’s coming quickly. I promise, if I say “I love you”, or some variation, to you, it probably doesn’t mean EXACTLY the as it does to me right now, because of the whole “shutting off” thing (if I’m being TERRIBLY over-dramatic, as usual), but trust me when I say I do.

Taking stock.

Sitting down and taking stock/inventory….I have had relationships with and hooked up with far more hot chicks than I have any right to have. I mean, don’t get me wrong, OVERALL? I’m batting about average. For every chick that’s far out of my league, there’s a sea monster. For instance, out of the last 5 girls I’ve hooked up with, 4 of them were what *I* would consider EXTREMELY attractive. And of those four only one or two would generally be considered “Unconventially attractive”. I have a higher average of batshit insane than I do of grenades. Coincidence?

So, thinking about it, how does this happen? Have I really gotten to the point where I can fake confidence but portray hurt innocence enough that it attracts women? I have no earthly idea, but let’s see what happens.

Situationally Speaking

Alright, we got a situation. And in this situation, I sit here and ponder, “What would the Situation do?” I’ve never had cause to legitimately even pose that question. But sometimes, a situation arises, where, situationally speaking, the expertise of the Situation may help you in your situation.

Random Thoughts: Sexting

So, I’m gonna start posting the most random of my thoughts. Entry one.

I find it interesting that sexting really only became a “thing” parents were worried about once my generation got out of high school.

I’m starting to think that our generation originated it, did it all through high school, then once we were out turned rat on our younger siblings. Because…I mean, if you’re my age, tell me you never did. You’re lying. Or a foreveralone.