WHAT WOULD MIRIAM DO?

I have spent a lot of time thinking about what I want...what my goals are, how I want to be spending my time, what I want to be doing with my career, MY LIFE!

And now as I sit here, post sister visit, left with a week filled with temping to look forward to, I feel nervous.

What am I doing? What do I have to work towards? What will the New Year hold?

I have been working hard at not placing importance on things that are out of my control, (aka most things that would allow me to fulfill my goals aka: getting an acting gig, or an agent, or a boyfriend, or a job that I cared about...)

So in this week before the New Year I am going to work at finding things that make me happy. So that instead of going into the New Year thinking about things I can accomplish for myself in the upcoming year, I can spend the beginning of 2011 looking back and thinking, "Nice Job! Way to pull through and make it happen. You go girl!"

Usually this week is a throwaway week. People have thrown in the towel. It's a party week. A week where your mind is scattered and cannot be focused. But for me this is going to be the week.
MIRIAM'S WEEK! The week where I do all things Miriam.

If you were me, and you were spending this week doing all things you...What would you do?

WWMD

SWF

I had this epiphany last night while I was on a date.

A date from speed dating.

Let me be more specific.

Jewish Speed Dating.

Now this is going to come as a shock. A shock so shocking that you may need to excuse yourselves from wherever you are, whatever you are doing, and take a moment in the bathroom, sitting with your head in your hands in the bathroom stall.

Dating is weird.

VOLCANOS ERUPTING. BABIES BEING BORN. STAMPEDES OF ELEPHANTS.

CHAOS!!!

But why is "DATING WEIRD"? You may ask. And I may answer. Because it's testing, on people. It's like experimenting on people. Like Flowers for Algernon. But worse. Because it's testing with people's emotions.

People's EMOTIONS!

MESSED UP RIGHT!

So, here's what I figure.

This is one of the only forms of human testing that is currently allowed by the government. Let's face it. By all governments.

***(Correction: In some countries they do not have dating. People are betrothed, arranged, or Shidduched if you are a Jew. Which I am. There is no testing. It is product based, not process.)***

So, in the spirit of science. I say experiment away. Do it all. Let there be no shame in online dating, speed dating, blind dating, reality television show dating, extreme dating, dating strangers you meet on the train, or in a bar. Date people you know. You are experimenting to better the world we live in.

THAT BEING SAID.

You must know that the percentage of experiments that are successful are minimal. In fact. The odds that your experiment will be successful is so small that I could not manage to put in all the zeros that would have to follow the decimal.

So I will merely write.

.01 Success Rate

But you must do it. My fellow scientists. You must. If not for yourselves, then do it for your parents.

Because they feel bad for you. Real bad.

You Know Those Days That Last Forever...

Today is one of those days.

When I woke up (at 5:50 it was pitch black out), then around 8 the day looked beautiful. Around 11 we started seeing creepy clouds approaching, and then intermittent showers with patchy blue skies. And then a downpour that made the roads look slick and looked like it would never let up. But as I walked home at 7:30 it was clear and cool.

Ahhh, the "Weather".

Nature usually serves as a perfect metaphor.

______________________________________

This morning I took a spin class at 6:30. I could feel my heart pounding. Literally working with it's twin brothers, my lungs, to make it happen. Maybe I was tired, maybe I could just feel the impending day.

I met a friend at Bleeding Heart Bakery (go there...seriously...if you live in Chicago...visit Chicago for this bakery...I mean it...do it) where they were taping a video for charity. And the celebrity guest was...Joan Cusack...so we talked to her a little bit about cookies. Cusack and Cookies.

Then I went home to prep for an ORIENTATION I was going to have with a company that temped out food servers and preps. Let's face it, (read previous post) my job hunt has left a little something to be desired. As old people say "Beggars Can't Be Choosers." This orientation lasted 3 hours. Where I was told that I had to be responsible. I was shown videos about how to wash dishes properly and to keep clean by "washing my hands." At the end I was offered an opportunity, which I had to turn down because of my impending trip to Disneyworld, to work at an opening of Costco. Where I could either be a demonstrator or, if I didn't really enjoy interacting with people, could sweep and do other janitorial tasks. And then as an unnecessary added bonus would receive for lunch: A HOT DOG AND A SODA!!!!!!!!!!!!

As I dragged my sorry ass to the Starbucks to spend some quality time with my mac and a friend to apply for jobs (that would probably either be scams or completely unattainable) I thought to myself "Hey, it could be worse. It could be worse."

And then it got a little worse.

A letter was waiting for me when I got home.

My first letter I have received in the mail in my new apartment.

Which is another thing I have been dealing with.

This fear that the postal service cannot keep track of all my moves and that I have piles of mail waiting to come to me and is being dragged around the country trying to find its home.

It had my own handwriting on it.

I had addressed it to me, having been asked to so by the agency I had interviewed with on Monday.

PROSPECTIVE TALENT;

"We are sorry, but we are unable to represent you at this time. Decisions about representation are based on various criteria, including the number of actors we have in a category.

Thank you for your submission and please feel free to resubmit in 6 months."

(I had to put together the ripped up pages to type that)

Here is the thing.

Totally good.

Rejection is part of the industry.

I am ready and prepared for that.

But I addressed the envelope. TO MYSELF.

I addressed my own rejection.

LIFE IS SUPER WEIRD.

YA KNOW?

LIKE REALLY WEIRD?

and then I made myself dinner.

and if you know me,

which you probably do if you are reading this,

or if you don't know me,

now you will know,

that that is the weirdest part of all.

That I made dinner.

Open Availability. Except for Sundays from 12-3 when I take Improv.

So I realize we are in an economic slump. The job market is at the worst(this is a really weird word if you say it out loud and type it at the same time)place since the depression, and I decided that this was the time to move from New York where I was happily working as a waitress to move to Chicago to... pursue the same thing here in Chicago.

And I REALIZE, that while my experience may not be exactly what you are looking for...

-Worked as a waitress in a busy upscale restaurant in the heart of Soho for over 4 years: so basically I am incredibly personable, responsible, and able to talk about food for hours

-Interned at four offices over the past five years: they all happened to be theater offices, BUT I WILL TELL YOU Mr. Person I am applying TO: that theater offices are busier than any of your silly offices. I know because theater people are crazy onstage or off.

-Teaching Artist: teaching kids Shakespeare. This should get me any job, because if I can get a kid to like Shakespeare I can do anything...I truly mean this.

Because I am getting little to no feedback in my job search I am looking into pursuing other job opportunities:

-Modeling

-Cookie Decorating

-Chess Tutoring (I am completely unqualified for this, but there always seems to be an ad for a chess tutor where I could earn 60 an hour. So, if you are reading this and you want a chess tutor. Consider me Bobby Fisher).

-Flier hander outer

-Bicycle delivery lady (I don't own a bike, nor have I lived here long enough to make this a viable job)

I mean what I am truly confused about it why my BFA in theater isn't getting me anywhere. I have a BFA from NYU Tisch in THEATER!!! Do you understand?!? I am overly qualified for all jobs I apply because of my ability to imagine a given circumstances and character. I am overly qualified because I can create a movement piece exploring what it means to have to sit behind a desk and answer phones and file things.

I CAN ACCESS YOUR EMOTIONS.

hire me. please.

YOM KIPPUR

I mean here's the thing. I appreciate taking the time to "atone," and reflect on the previous year and what you did and how you would change.

I'm all about reflection.

And sure, it's cool that the Jewish faith gives you this week where you can get your apologies in quick so that your bad deeds won't get marked against you. And yea, the clause for the apology is that it must be done in sincerity.

But, like, isn't that a little messed up?

Because what if I don't want to forgive you? What if I have spent this whole year in misery, but because you decide last minute to apologize, I have to forgive you for your HORRIBLE actions?

BECAUSE THAT'S THE DEAL ... If someone comes to you and apologizes you have to forgive them. Or else, let's face it, that will be your bad deed going in the book.

So instead this year.

Don't even bother apologizing.

BECAUSE APPARENTLY I NEED TO FORGIVE YOU ANYWAYS.

SO...

Happy Yom Kippur.

Don't f*&* up next year like you did this one ;)

Who am I?

For a very long time people have called me Mim.

Most likely I have introduced myself to you as "Mim."

And then went into a long awkward explanation that went something like

"Not Ma'am, Mim. It's short for Miriam. Like Mad Madam Mim. From 'The Sword and the Stone?' No. Like, MIMS. Music Is My Savior. But instead MIM."

Usually by now, my face is so red, my armpits so sweaty, and the other person so disinterested that I don't continue on; and I just hope that my nickname made me look cooler than my real name.

Not that my real name is so terrible. Miriam. It's nice actually. Not so common in this generation. Because it makes you sound like a grandmother. Who likes to knit. And is sometimes grouchy. But always has candy.

It's just in middle school my friend Sara and I started replacing our r's with w's and Miwiam sounds stupid. So she called me Mim.

As it turns out, it is a pretty common nickname for people named Miriam. I thought I was unique.

As a child I was told by my father that nicknames were not allowed. Your name is your name. I would not be called "Mimi" and my sister would not be called "Tammy." Because these were in actuality names. Other people's names. Nicknames from our names, but in actuality "real names." (ya' follow?). But, Mim, for some reason was allowed to pass.

For years now that is what people have called me. They have variations on it: Mim, Mimzer, Mimtastic, Mimsical, Mimalicious, Mims, and Mimjob (which my old manager called me, out of the utmost love, but rhymes with something that need not be mentioned in my blog).

But now I am coming to a crossroads in my life. I am trying to become an adult. Or rather take myself seriously. Or rather. Be Something. Or rather. Be Someone.

And I don't know who I want to be.

Miriam or Mim?

And I know you are saying, "Hey Mimiriam, you are both. They are one in the same." But that's not true. It can't be true. Because you are different when you are Richard and Dick. And Liz and Elizabeth. And Miriam and Mim.

I remember as a child thinking that I wanted to give my own kids names that had the most potential for fun nicknames. They would have so many great options of what people could call them. Options are annoying. It means there is an element of choice and freedom. Gross.

Mim or Miriam. Miriam or Mim. Or I could just go as Chana, my middle name and call it a day. Except that only 1.2% of the population could properly pronounce the CH and I would be constantly explaining how to make that noise and would probably develop a very severe throat disorder.

You tell me.

Mim or Miriam?

Things that I will never understand...

I was born a complainer. I'm Jewish. And I'm a woman. So it's natural for me to have something to whine about. To dwell on what isn't working and what I would want to change. I try to limit myself in the way that I express these emotions, because I don't want to alienate people, or have them think that I am a downer.

And sure, sometimes I feel the need to let people know what is bringing me down. Whether it be a bad day, someone hurt my feelings, or an issue with my job.

But I will never, ever, ever understand airing your super private issues on facebook.

Perhaps I learned this, or rather didn't learn this at an early age. When I used to cry a lot people would feel bad and try to comfort me. But eventually it just got awkward. I wouldn't stop crying, and the people around me wouldn't know what to do with me. So instead of coming to comfort me, they would stare pityingly and then turn away hoping that I would regain control.

So when someone posts something that makes them look bad I want to know "WHY?" What are you hoping for in return from this post? An onslaught of support from friends, family, and strangers? Someone to make a "Group" that helps find ways of getting you out of the slump? Why do you want people to know your boyfriend broke up with you, you lost your job, or you are in a fight with a friend?

Because "Facebook" doesn't care. "Facebook" is not a person, and it is not a diary.

And you know why I want to know even more?

Because I do it too.

On Facebook.

Why does Facebook make me want to share my personal failures? Why do I feel safe confessing these downfalls that I would generally only tell a select few in person, but online feel the need to show the world?

I know I can't trust you Facebook ... But why do I want to tell you everything?