I broke my New Year's Resolution today for the first time.
For one month and eleven days I succeeded in journaling and meditating every morning, and not half-assing it either. So today when I found myself ready to kick anyone who annoyed me (everyone) in the face, I surmised it was because I missed meditating.
My day wasn't bad: pole class, chocolate, CostCo, teaching, bestie dinner, and The Muppet Movie (ga-gong, ga-gong, my heart speaks Muppet).
But somewhere past CostCo I developed a pissy, restlessness that felt (feels) like someone's rubbing sandpaper on the back of my neck. My joints are wound tight, aching to karate chop a bitch. A grubby little storm cloud hovers over my third eye. That "somewhere" was Salon.com.
As I fixed lunch, I checked my twitter feed to find this tagline: "I was at the height of my screenwriting career. Too bad I was nearly fifty—and a woman." I knew the story was going to piss me off from the Debbie Downer teaser, but I couldn't help myself. I'm a woman, I'm a writer, and I'm a glutton for getting my buttons pushed. So I read.
The article is an except from a book by Tracey Jackson called "Between a Rock and a Hot Place: Why Fifty is Not the New Thirty," and is essentially a one-page bitchfest from what I presume is a 300+ page bitchfest coming out Feb 15 from HarperCollins. I haven't read the book, so I can't judge it, but I did read the except and I'm DYING to judge it.
Let me start by saying that witnessing someone play the victim is MY BIGGEST EFFING PET PEEVE. I have no sympathy when anyone points to their circumstances for no constructive reason other than to bitch/wallow/whine. Jackson's excerpt does just this.
She begins by qualifying herself with her career track as a female comedy feature writer (yes, very hard job, I certainly wouldn't want to do it). She lists a couple high-profile projects she got replaced on by younger writers until she couldn't get another job and had to resort to pitching BS guys movies and kid stuff. Jackson never indicates anything that motivates her beyond wealth, fame, and recognition.
As I read Jackson's declarations of ageism and sexism, all that kept running through my mind was, "It doesn't have to be." I'm not deluded. Ageism, fine. Sexism, sure. Its the way the world works. Favoritism, nepotism, classism - they are all facts of the business, always have been, always will be. They work in your favor until they don't. My point is, if you buy into the bullshit, you're just as guilty in perpetuating the bullshit. Rise above the status quo and make your own way.
Rather than kowtow in desperation to every whim of the business (3D! Vampires! Matthew McConaughey romcoms!) do something you're passionate about. At least then you can enjoy your work because it means something more than its prospective outcome. What you spend your time on has to amount to more than wealth, fame or recognition, because these qualities are so transitory they barely exist.
I know I'm talking about Hollywood where surface rules, but you know what? I refuse that- if I don't, I'm as bad as Tracey Jackson. I refuse to give up passion. I refuse to give up integrity. If that makes me naive and stupid, good. I hope I stay naive and stupid forever. At least then I'll still play the game my way, instead of buying into the same old bullshit.
It seems Tracey Jackson may have discovered this in some form or fashion, as well: she couldn't get hired to write what she wanted to, she got passionate enough to write a book about her experience, and now, whoop-dee-doo, she's a published author.
If you don't like the rules, make up your own. If you're tired of the game, find a new one. Just don't play the victim. We're so much more powerful than that.
For one month and eleven days I succeeded in journaling and meditating every morning, and not half-assing it either. So today when I found myself ready to kick anyone who annoyed me (everyone) in the face, I surmised it was because I missed meditating.
My day wasn't bad: pole class, chocolate, CostCo, teaching, bestie dinner, and The Muppet Movie (ga-gong, ga-gong, my heart speaks Muppet).
But somewhere past CostCo I developed a pissy, restlessness that felt (feels) like someone's rubbing sandpaper on the back of my neck. My joints are wound tight, aching to karate chop a bitch. A grubby little storm cloud hovers over my third eye. That "somewhere" was Salon.com.
As I fixed lunch, I checked my twitter feed to find this tagline: "I was at the height of my screenwriting career. Too bad I was nearly fifty—and a woman." I knew the story was going to piss me off from the Debbie Downer teaser, but I couldn't help myself. I'm a woman, I'm a writer, and I'm a glutton for getting my buttons pushed. So I read.
The article is an except from a book by Tracey Jackson called "Between a Rock and a Hot Place: Why Fifty is Not the New Thirty," and is essentially a one-page bitchfest from what I presume is a 300+ page bitchfest coming out Feb 15 from HarperCollins. I haven't read the book, so I can't judge it, but I did read the except and I'm DYING to judge it.
Let me start by saying that witnessing someone play the victim is MY BIGGEST EFFING PET PEEVE. I have no sympathy when anyone points to their circumstances for no constructive reason other than to bitch/wallow/whine. Jackson's excerpt does just this.
She begins by qualifying herself with her career track as a female comedy feature writer (yes, very hard job, I certainly wouldn't want to do it). She lists a couple high-profile projects she got replaced on by younger writers until she couldn't get another job and had to resort to pitching BS guys movies and kid stuff. Jackson never indicates anything that motivates her beyond wealth, fame, and recognition.
As I read Jackson's declarations of ageism and sexism, all that kept running through my mind was, "It doesn't have to be." I'm not deluded. Ageism, fine. Sexism, sure. Its the way the world works. Favoritism, nepotism, classism - they are all facts of the business, always have been, always will be. They work in your favor until they don't. My point is, if you buy into the bullshit, you're just as guilty in perpetuating the bullshit. Rise above the status quo and make your own way.
Rather than kowtow in desperation to every whim of the business (3D! Vampires! Matthew McConaughey romcoms!) do something you're passionate about. At least then you can enjoy your work because it means something more than its prospective outcome. What you spend your time on has to amount to more than wealth, fame or recognition, because these qualities are so transitory they barely exist.
I know I'm talking about Hollywood where surface rules, but you know what? I refuse that- if I don't, I'm as bad as Tracey Jackson. I refuse to give up passion. I refuse to give up integrity. If that makes me naive and stupid, good. I hope I stay naive and stupid forever. At least then I'll still play the game my way, instead of buying into the same old bullshit.
It seems Tracey Jackson may have discovered this in some form or fashion, as well: she couldn't get hired to write what she wanted to, she got passionate enough to write a book about her experience, and now, whoop-dee-doo, she's a published author.
If you don't like the rules, make up your own. If you're tired of the game, find a new one. Just don't play the victim. We're so much more powerful than that.
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