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Musings
Category

  • You’re Better Than Me!

    My kid and I don’t really have a lot of the same interests. We have some things in common. We both really enjoy loud music, cookies, and fart jokes. We also both think it’s hilarious when you’re spitting phlegm out the car window, and said phlegm flies right back into your face. But in terms of things we like to do to pass the time, we’re very different.

    The Munch for one loves to play “hide and seek.” Maybe that would be fun if I was on acid, in a mansion, and the walls were made of Playdough. But playing “hide and seek” in my house where I know every possible hiding space isn’t exactly mentally stimulating. Especially because half the time I can obviously see her – because she SUCKS at “hide and seek!” So then I have to walk past her, PRETENDING I can’t find her like a fool. That game is really more of a time for me to look at my phone while crouched in the closet.

    Then there are the “make believe” games The Munch LOVES to play. There is something so inspiring about watching your kid lose themselves in a world of their own creation. I find myself awestruck by her authenticity – as she plays pretend with her toys, and explores her imagination. The Munch gets really into it too. She uses different voices for each of the characters, and develops incredibly intricate plotlines. Nothing is more peaceful than relaxing in the living room while eavesdropping as The Munch plays sweetly. I can just sit back and listen to her deepest thoughts as one of her character says, “my mom killed my sister Becka, but that’s okay because she didn’t even know her letters.”

    Like I would ever name my kid Becka!?

    But I can’t play pretend with The Munch! I don’t have that capacity any more. I am a grown up, and I use my imagination to stress out about my future and have anxiety about my past.

    Finding things to do together that we BOTH enjoy equally isn’t always easy. She is not that interested in talking about Donald Trump’s ties to the lizard Elite, and I don’t give a flying fuck in a rolling doughnut about My Little Pony.

    Munch: I’m bored! I wanna play with you!
    Toni: Do you want to play the Congress is corrupt?
    Munch: NO! Too predictable! Can we play kittens on a pirate ship?
    Toni: How about we draw together instead?

    Now let’s be clear about something. I cannot draw. I cannot create a depth of field. I can’t draw people. I can’t shade. I have no ability to draw anything beyond two-dimensional shapes. So I decided I would just do that – and color them in pretty.

    At first everything was going fine. My friend Natalya came over, and drew with us for a while as well. It was kind of an adorable scene – us all drawing together and drinking tea. After Natalya left The Munch and I continued to draw – sure it had been almost 3 hours at this point, but I was pretty OCD and NEEDED to finish my picture.

    Munch: You’re star is better than mine.
    Toni: Drawing a star is tricky. Do you want me to show you how?
    Munch: Okay.
    Toni: This is how I learned. You draw an upside down “v” like this. Then you bring one line over here, the other over there, and then you connect them!

    The Munch practiced with me, drawing a star with lines that ran through the center.

    Munch: But your star doesn’t have lines through it.
    Toni: That’s true. But it took me a long time to draw a star with no lines through it. I started with the lines until I got better.
    Munch: I wanna draw my star with NO LINES!
    Toni: Okay… give it a try.

    The Munch tried, and was having an increasingly difficult time.

    Munch: AHHHHHHHHHHHH! I CAN’T DRAW A STAR WITH NO LINES!!!!!
    Toni: Munch, you don’t need to get so worked up. The way you get better at something is to practice! You just have to keep trying. You will get it!
    Munch: BUT YOUR STAR IS BETTER THAN MINE!!!!!!!!
    Toni: That is because I have been practicing drawing stars for 30 years.
    Munch: YOU DRAW BETTER THAN ME!!!!
    Toni: Dude, if I didn’t draw better than a five-year old, you should be seriously worried about me.
    Munch: BUT I WANT TO BE ABLE TO DRAW A STAR AND I CAN’T AND YOU DRAW BETTER THAN ME!
    Toni: Munch, Natalya draws better than me.
    Munch: NO she doesn’t! Her “space cat” doesn’t even look like a cat!
    Toni: That’s because it’s a “space cat” with boobs! Not a regular cat! And she is a wayyyyyyyy better at drawing than me. Do you want to know why?
    Munch: Why?
    Toni: Because she practices! She works hard and drawing, and that’s how she got to be so talented.
    Munch: BUT I WANT TO BE ABLE TO DRAW A STAR AS GOOD AS YOU!
    Toni: Dude, this is the thing. How I draw a star has nothing to do with you. We have to be able to happy for other people and their accomplishments, even when we are struggling with our own feelings of insecurity. I can think Natalya is a better drawer than me, feel jealous about her skills, but at the same STILL be happy for her! In fact, my feeling happy for Natalya for working so hard means that I don’t even feel jealous anymore. My feelings of happiness for her are more pronounced than my feelings of jealousy. So I can instead focus on working hard and practicing, while being happy for my friend that I love.
    Munch: BUT I DON’T WANT TO PRACTICE! I WANT TO BE ABLE TO DRAW A STAR JUST LIKE YOU NOW!!!
    Toni: Munch, you can’t be so goal oriented about your art. That’s not the point of creating! You have to enjoy the process.
    Munch: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

    The Munch stormed off and left me to my coloring. Which I of course continued because I was ALMOST DONE! I had to finish it okay!?

    Since then we’ve had a few meltdowns about drawing – always the same theme. The Munch eventually gets upset because she can’t do something perfectly – then traveling down a rage spiral while comparing herself to me and feeling inadequate. But that doesn’t mean I am going to not draw my best because I have coloring to accomplish okay!!?

    But I realized that everything I said to The Munch about her drawing, I could apply to myself. I am SUPER goal oriented when it comes to my art. I have expectations of how I want things to be received, or turn out – and when they don’t I feel just like her. I get disappointed, frustrated, insecure, and yell belligerently at the wall.

    It made me think that maybe The Munch’s angst about her art is merely a reflection of my own. That she is just picking up on my vibes, and reflecting them back to me. It made me wonder how much of my energy is unconsciously infiltrating her consciousness, and perhaps most of her psychosis is really just my own stress being mirrored back to me.

    Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some coloring to get back to.

    The famous “star picture”

    toni star drawing

    Natalya’s “space cat”

    space cat

    This only took me 5 hours

    toni drawing

  • It Turns Out My Vagina is Not More Important Than Social Justice

    Do you ever have those moments where you are doing something mundane, like washing dishes, and suddenly a memory pops into your head that you hadn’t thought of in a long time? It’s almost like an assault of your unconscious. Your brain suddenly insisting, “Hey! You did this! Remember it!!!”

    That happened to me the other day when I was chatting with my friend Grace. We were having a perfectly average, everyday conversation about chakras. You know… one of those totally run-of-the-mill dialogues about your spirit body being fractured because of an esoteric violation in the cosmic stratosphere. We’ve ALL been there right? But then suddenly I had a memory of an event in my past that I had totally forgotten had ever taken place.

    Toni: I just had this crazy memory of when I was in the 8th grade. It was the night before the last day of school, and I was hanging out with my friends drinking and smoking pot. At some point everyone had to go home, I guess because we were 14 and it was a school night.

    Grace: These things happen.

    Toni: But for whatever reason, I didn’t go home. And neither did these two boys I was friends with. We all went to the Boston garden to keep drinking and smoking weed. It was a warm outside, so we ended up staying there the entire night! I think my mom was out of town, so my dad wouldn’t have really noticed if I had come home or not.

    Grace: Coming home can be remarkably unnoticeable.

    Toni: One of the guys was the dude I had lost my virginity to. I took his v-card too might I add. And the other dude was his best friend. So… I’m not quite sure how exactly I finagled this, but I remember distinctly that I would make out with one guy for a while, while the other one went for a walk or did whatever. Then when I got bored of that guy, I would leave to go find the other dude and make out with him for a while.

    Grace: That’s pretty gangster.

    Toni: Right? Especially for an 8th grader? I mean that is kind of sexually aggressive, and psychologically manipulative. I’m pretty sure they both assumed I was just making out with them, and had no idea what I was doing when I was gone.

    Grace: That is some pretty impressive slight of hand! You were like the David Blain of Making out!

    Toni: They were both pretty hot so I had to do something. But then the next day, things kind of went to shit. One of the dudes was dating my friend, and the other dude my other friend had a super crush on. The boys and I were all keeping our mouths shut about what happened, but I had these hickies all over my neck that everyone wanted an explanation for.

    Grace: You’re a WASP, didn’t you have turtleneck you could wear!?

    Toni: I know! My one friend thought it was her boyfriend that gave me the hickies, but I admitted nothing. Especially because I had a boyfriend too! When my boyfriend saw my neck, I told him that I had fallen in a bush.

    Grace: Hickies do look like bush scrapes…never.

    Toni: I panicked! I hadn’t noticed them because I never went home, and was still wearing the same clothes from the day before! We slept in the Boston Gardens and then went straight to school. In reality I should have just gone home. But we were going on a class trip to the amusement park, and I didn’t want to miss out on that – because I was still a child who liked roller coasters more than worrying about getting caught cheating!

    Grace: We all have our priorities.

    Toni: I was so tired that when my boyfriend confronted me, falling in a bush was the first thing that came to my mind. I fell in a bush! That’s what’s all over my neck! Bush! At first he believed me. Or maybe he just wanted to believe me. But whatever the case, he stopped asking questions. I had almost gotten away with it, but then I told one of my best friends what really happened. You know, because half the fun of making out with people is talking about it.

    Grace: Of course.

    Toni: But my best friend ended up telling my boyfriend!!! And when I asked her why she did that, she explained that she felt like she had too – that because they were both black, it was her racial duty to tell him what happened.

    Grace: So the racial solidarity superseded the girl code.

    Toni: Exactly! It wasn’t like she hadn’t kept secrets of mine before or after that. In fact she kept a lot of them. But this secret she couldn’t keep.

    Grace: Race vs. gender loyalty is tricky.

    Toni: It is! I think by the end of the day, the entire school knew about my sexcapade moment in the park. My friends were really pissed at me for my making out with their boyfriends, the dudes were upset I was making out with both of them, and my boyfriend was SUPER upset I cheated and lied to him. But I totally understood why my friend told on me. Even at that young age I knew that ultimately, my vagina wasn’t more important than social justice. And besides, at least I got to ride the roller coaster.

    toni modeling 2

    January 25, 2016 • Old School Stories, Relationships, Sex Stuff • Views: 309

  • How To Win the Mind Fuck

    1) When they are trying to pick a fight with you, tell them “you’re boring me.” There is nothing quite as offending or demeaning than being told, “you’re boring.”

    2) When they insult you, or try to blame you for the dysfunction of the relationship, laugh. Laugh long and hard and then say, “you’re funny.”

    3) When they text you shitty things trying to get a rise out of you, respond only in non sequitur emojis. Like Chinese food, dragons, and a chicken poking his head out of a shell.

    4) Blow off relationship conversations completely, then change the topic and get really passionate talking about what you’re going to get your cousin for their birthday.

    5) Every so often, practice random radio silence. Don’t respond to anything for a few days. Then simply text a funny Youtube video – like of Snoop Dog narrating Planet Earth… WITH NO EXPLANATION!

    6) When having sex, comment about how their body isn’t how your remember it being.

    7) Have plans to hang out. Break those plans 3 hours before you’re supposed to meet with no explanation. Then 2 hours later, say you want to hang out after all, but bring some friends and pay most of your attention to them.

    8) Walk away from the relationship entirely.

    You many not get laid with these strategies, but you will win the mind fuck.

    See Kourtney Kardashian gets it…

    kourtney US weekly

    January 20, 2016 • Relationships, Sex Stuff • Views: 394

  • All My Mom Wants From Me

    Teenagers are intense people. Their emotional brains, and hormonal influxes rule their relationship to sanity. Every parent is going to have conflict with their teenage children because they are in such an intense state of growth, exploration, and questioning.

    As far as teenagers go, I wasn’t that bad. Fine… I may have had a LOT of parties behind my parents’ back, would go to raves to take crystal meth, got caught stealing, and maybe one New Years Eve I did a ton of ecstasy and called my mom at 3 am to tell her I was going to marry my 18-year old boyfriend. It’s possible I was once brought to the hospital with a police escort from public intoxication and running from the cops, and perhaps at 14 I spent a night “roof jumping” with some boys only to come home at 7am the next day really stoned.

    BUT I DID MY HOMEWORK!!

    I got along with my parents, but we also fought. Mainly because THEY SUCK!

    Over the holiday I was home in my childhood room, and I found this note I wrote to my mom. I think it was an effort to make up with her after an argument, and show I was listening to her “needs” in terms of our relationship.

    (PS my favorite is “no manipulating with tears.” As if I NEVER had an authentic reason to cry or be upset, and only wept to control my mom).

    Mom Needs from me note

    January 6, 2016 • Family Drama, Old School Stories, Parenting • Views: 372

  • My Failed Modeling Career

    When I was a kid, my cousin was a child model. This made me think that maybe I should try it, because her smiling face in OshKosh adds looked so genuinely happy. I wanted to be complete like her. My mom brought me to an agency, and they sent me out on my first audition. It was for a Yoplait yogurt commercial, and I didn’t get the part. I think I felt pretty bad about myself, because it was my first experience with rejection. To comfort me, my mom said I didn’t get the role because “I was too pretty.” She was a good stage mom, but even I knew at 8-years old, that was a load of shit. I just didn’t have what it took to sell sour fruit flavored milk, and I knew it.

    The first time I ever got approached by someone who was interested in me as a model was when I was 14-years old, and on a flight to Paris. It was one of those life moments that you never forget – maybe something every girl dreams of. A strange man coming up to you on a plane and asking “when are you going to get your braces off?”

    I was 5ft 10 inches and skinny. So I had what it takes!!! All I needed was to get that torture apparatus off my teeth, and I was good to go! The modeling agent gave me his card, and my mom and I called as soon as my mouth was metal free.

    We went down to Florida to get my “book” done. We were near Disney World, but didn’t have time to attend the magical kingdom because we were going to be too busy with the pictures. I remember this being a GENUINE BUMMER – which basically describes my maturity level at the time.

    At the studio there was a make-up artist, hairdresser, stylist, fancy photographer – and they were all equally horrified by my chipped nail polish and lack of waxed eyebrows. They were so appalled, it was almost as if I had raped a kitten in front of them. They were also none too impressed when I wanted more than water for lunch. Thank god they gave me that lemon.

    Once I was all dolled up, it was time to actually take the pictures. They would tell me things like “open your mouth slightly,” and “chin up – but face down.” I guess it was supposed to be fun to have all this attention, but it was actually a goddamn nightmare. The whole scenario felt contrived, and I couldn’t lose myself in the moment. I was way too self-conscious, and increasingly uncomfortable the more people stopped to watch. I didn’t want to pretend to want to fuck the camera, or the man behind it. I just wanted to play Super Mario Brothers.

    My mom and I got back from the trip, and I expressed my disinterest. I moved on with my life, started smoking pot, and my friend got a Nintendo 64.

    When I was 17, another modeling agent approached me. I was a little older and decided to give it another try. Maybe I would feel differently? Perhaps I would enjoy arching my back while getting really excited about lipstick shades. Anything is possible. Yeah… it turns out no. I couldn’t connect to the idea of trying to look sexy, and instead looked like I was constipated. They also told me I had to lose 10-20 pounds because I had “too much muscle” from playing sports.

    I decided to stick with the sports because I wanted to be strong and have arms like Madonna.

    When I was 24, I lived in NYC. Assuming my old age meant the end of any modeling career I could have had, I was surprised when a guy on the subway told me he owned a modeling agency, and that he wanted to represent me. We went through the same process, but much like before, I pretty much sucked. The idea of making my face look like I was ready to give a blow job to sell a leather coat made me feel like an idiot. Maybe if I was hawking dildos it would have made sense, but what does winter comfort have to do with my sticking my ass in the air? Again, I didn’t get very far, but I did get a coke dealer out of the experience.

    Here is the thing that is ultimately fucked up about modeling. If your identity is defined by your sex appeal, you are setting yourself up for disaster. There is no talent in looking like you are ready for anal. You shouldn’t feel proud of yourself for having a body type that looks somewhat skeletal. That isn’t an accomplishment. You didn’t do anything to achieve a symmetrical face. It is just a consequence of genes. It’s nothing to be proud of.

    When you overly identify with your looks, all your value is fleeting and superficial. It isn’t rooted in a deep yearning for existential growth, but the capacity to stick your tits out while still looking somewhat demure. It is a fine thing to do if you can get into it emotionally, but it isn’t going to feed your soul in any profound way. There is artistry to photography, and any muse for that is contributing to the creative process, but most times models are more vehicles for a corporate agenda. Maybe if I were modeling organic flax seed oil I could have gotten more into it. That stuff is really important for your digestive tract after all.

    So basically my modeling identity was a disaster, and it was probably because I wasn’t attractive enough, skinny enough, or sexy enough. Or maybe my mom was right and I was just TOO pretty. You know, not everyone has what it takes to have a failed modeling career.

    Here I am at 14 with not so much a “come fuck me” look, but more “I’m going to grow up to be a serial killer” kind of vibe.

    Toni Modeling about to kill

    My “comp card”

    Toni Modeling comp card

    I seriously wanna dry hump this tree.

    Toni Modeling hugging tree

    Fuck this jean jacket…

    Toni Modeling jean jacket

    My body language here pretty much says it all. A natural I know…

    Toni Modeling Pink pointing

    Everything is stupid.
    Toni Modeling pissy face and body

    Red dresses make me contemplative….
    Toni Modeling red dress NYC

    Here I am needing to lose 20 pounds…
    Toni Modeling RL shirt

    Can you believe I haven’t lost that weight yet? I mean look at how much extra flesh is on me!
    Toni Modeling when too fat

    January 4, 2016 • Old School Stories • Views: 685

  • Totally Attainable New Year’s Resolutions

    The problem with New Years resolutions is that we tend to have unattainable expectations of ourselves. When we don’t live up to our goals, rather than rethinking them or adapting them to be more reasonable, we give up entirely and throw the baby out with the bath water. Which should be illegal by the way.

    Instead of presuming to be an entirely different person next year, why not just suck 5% less. I bet you could achieve that commitment – and if you do, in 20 years you would suck 100% less!! That’s not bad!

    So here are my totally attainable new years resolutions that I know I can do!

    1) Poop less in public: Now you probably wouldn’t think this was a big problem – but there was an instance when I was a kid. My friend and I pooped in plastic bags and left them on some stranger’s porch. This was a really bad moment for me. I still feel guilty about it. So if I never did that again, I am already on the road to self-improvement.

    2) When eating chocolate for breakfast, also have some greens: This is doable. I can have a few bites of kale with my morning chocolate.

    3) Don’t blame my farts on my dying dog Mona all the time: Mona doesn’t deserve that. Think of her pride Toni! From now on I will only blame 90% of my farts on her. The other 10% I can put on the cat.

    4) When holding the door open for someone, and they don’t say “thank you,” DO NOT then say “you’re welcome” in a sarcastic tone way louder than necessary: I got to be honest. This one is going to be hard for me.

    5) Don’t talk about my period while others are eating: Another challenge. But I can wait until they are drinking.

    6) Don’t get into fights about the moon landing being faked: After all – the moon could also be hollow, or a space station for aliens. Anything is possible.

    7) Don’t keep people on my Facebook news feed that I love to hate everything they post and make fun of in my mind: Unfollow Toni. Just unfollow.

    8) Don’t insist on telling people my dreams: It really isn’t that interesting. Except for the fact that other night I had a dream I was hanging out with Donald Trump and that SAME night my mom had a dream she had a sleepover party with Putin. So…

    9) When driving and someone cuts me off, don’t speed up to pass them so as to look them in the eye whiling giving them the finger: Just flip them off when I get the chance.

    10) Don’t call the universe cunty when things don’t work out the way I wanted them to: The cosmos is so obviously a dick.

    11) When at a restaurant and receiving the number “69” for my pick up – DON’T make sex jokes like “must be my lucky day,” to the server: It wasn’t.

    photo-17

    December 31, 2015 • Current Events, Musings • Views: 288

  • Today is My Mother Fucking Birthday!

    Today is the day of my vaginal emergence. The remembrance of that fateful morning I tore through my mom’s body, and burst forth into the world headfirst while covered in birth cheese. What a lovely moment to picture in your mind while eating yogurt.

    Birthdays usually inspire me to reflect upon my life. To think back on not only the 365 days that have past, but also my entire existence. Did I have enough fun as a child? When did I lose my innocence? Was it ever there to begin with? Did I waste my 20’s? Will I ever feel accomplished? And seriously what the fuck happened in my 20’s because holy shit….

    I was hanging out with my cousin for the holidays and although he is 10 years younger than me, it feels like he has his life wayyyyyy more together. He’s an artist, owns a gallery, and wears clothes that actually flatter his figure unlike my fleece sweatpants. As happy as I am for him, it makes me think about how far I am from where I want to be. And also how I really need to go shopping and get some better clothes because I look like a 12-year old boy with messy hair who just got caught jerking off.

    The problem with striving for something is that it means I am always looking ahead, and never around. As soon as I accomplish one thing, I already want the next thing to happen. Yeah yeah yeah great – now that I’ve gotten here, I want to go there!

    Then I had this realization the other day…

    What if I can’t get to where I want to be in life, until I fully appreciate where I am in life?!

    Maybe that is obvious to you… but it felt like a goddamn revelation to me.

    I really feel that this expression on my face pretty much says it all…

    birthday-blog-(i)

    December 28, 2015 • Musings • Views: 436

  • Dealing with Rejection

    I have a lot of rejection in my life. I will work really hard on something, put it out into the world hoping someone will like it, wait patiently for their response (otherwise known as checking my email compulsively every 11 seconds), and when I finally get a reply… they will say “no.” I then have to put the pieces of my self-esteem back together like a puzzle that is NOW MISSING FUCKING PIECES BECAUSE MY EGO HAS BEEN SHATTERED!

    Not everyone picks a career path where rejection is part of the process. But writing and making movies is my passion, so it doesn’t feel like a choice. I NEED to make content that will distract people from their lives – while I desperately try to make them think deeply about their lives and how they shouldn’t be so easily distracted. It’s a delicate balance.

    I know everyone who’s in the dating scene also deals with rejection, but if a man weren’t into me – who cares. It’s not like you are going to be compatible with every dude you may want to mash your genitals against. When a guy has rejected me it may have hurt, but that pain was easier to move past because it’s just some dude’s opinion. I mean… it’s not like I ever made out with a boy I met at a club, found out the next day he had a girlfriend who happened to be my Facebook friend, and then proceeded to stalk them both for the next 6 months wondering why he wanted to be with her and not me. I mean that would be crazy!!

    Even though I know rejection is going to be part of my path, that doesn’t make it any less soul sucking. For me it is the worst kind of rejection because my art is the deepest part of who I am. I can’t play it off and say “well that person didn’t really know the real me,” because I am exposing myself fully – maybe too fully for some.

    A few years ago an editor for a publishing company contacted me saying she thought I should write a book, and to write a proposal for her. I did what she asked, and after reading it she responded “No thank you. That’s enough of that. ”

    She found me only to reject me later!?

    But these things happen all the time. I recently applied for something and got rejected the same day!? How did you know so you didn’t want me so quickly!?

    I try to do all sorts of new age hippy visualization actualization manifestation work. I pray on the new moon, and write my intentions on the wall with period blood. I light candles and picture the future I want. I thank the universe for abundance and try to show gratitude. But I’m beginning to feel like the cosmos can suck my dick.

    My most recent venture is a movie script that I wrote with my friend Bridget. It’s a comedy about a female friendship, and let me tell you, it is pretty insane. If you read it you would say to yourself “yup, she went there.”

    I am working with a producer who has been helping us try to get it made, and she has been sharing her Hollywood network with us. With her help, we got the script to the actress I wanted to play the main role – Ilana Glazer from Broad City.

    The producer was the one who suggested Ilana for the part, and I knew instantly she would be prefect. I love Ilana. I think she is a comedic genius, and have so much respect for her. So for the last 89 drafts of working on the script, I had Ilana in mind. I thought about her obsessively… when driving, eating, sleeping… meditating (even though I am not technically thinking, so rather I was meditating on her). I talked about her constantly, and would wonder what she would think of this scene or that.

    I would have these fantasies that Ilana loved the script so much that she not only wanted to do the movie, but also wanted to be friends with Bridget and me. We would do fun friend things like braid each other’s hair and share tampons. A montage of our relationship played out in my head, and it always ended in a harmless pillow fight with lots of giggling.

    Those 3 weeks that Ilana had my script were the longest of my life – and then I got an answer. She said “no.”

    My heartbreak was consuming. I couldn’t say, “oh she isn’t that great anyway who cares” because she is that great. She is fucking amazing. Her type of comedy is the shit. I will never know why she said “no,” but “no” is what she said and I have to live with it. No sharing baths in our future or getting matching tattoos. I guess Ilana wants to write her own damn movie.

    After the Ilana rejection I was super depressed. It was a heartbreak of epic proportions. I couldn’t move on, or think of anyone else to play this part. I would just look out my window and think of Ilana.

    I had this deep melancholy I couldn’t work through. But I had one more glimmer of hope for this script. I had applied it to the Sundance Screen Writer’s Lab, and it had gotten through the first round. That meant they liked the first 15 pages, and wanted to read the rest. If I could get into Sundance – that would hopefully open up the doors I needed.

    I was going to find out on December 16th – but that was also a busy day for me creatively. I had to work, had dance rehearsal, and then was going to film my friend’s rap video. I couldn’t be in a terrible mood for that, because it would be really hard to rap when someone was behind the camera crying about their failures… Just not the right vibe for hip hop.

    I didn’t check my email until 12pm. I sat down took a deep breath, envisioned an acceptances letter, and looked. It was a “no.”

    My stomach dropped.

    I felt so lost and hopeless. The sadness was starting to set in, and I was about to cry. I texted my friend Bridget and we commiserated in the dejection.

    I felt like I was at a crossroads emotionally. Part of me was ready to get super fucking depressed and feel really sorry for myself. But I also just was really depressed, and felt a little bored of depressed Toni. When I’m depressed, I’m more self-absorbed. I care less about what other people are saying, because I am just waiting for my turn to talk about how bad I feel about everything. Depressed Toni is kind of egocentric.

    Just as the tears were about to fall I thought of something. When I had read the list of films that were going to Sundance they were all really serious. There were movies about Civil Rights, sexual assault, autism, public executions… really heavy shit. I started picturing Bridget and myself at a roundtable where everyone was pitching their script. The person next to us would say, “My script is about a young girl who was kidnapped from her village in Uganda and then sold into the sex trade.” Everyone would nod quietly in deep contemplation. Then it would be our turn, and we would say, “Our movie has the main character getting dumped by her boyfriend while dressed in a giant penis costume, and also a pretty sweet colonic scene where years of impacted shit sprays into her mouth.”

    I started laughing hysterically.

    The movie we wrote was never getting Sundance. If Sundance were to be interested in a comedy, it would be a sweet irreverent story about a boy and his goat in the mountains of Uzbekistan with beautiful cinematography. Not my crass over the top comedy that culminates in a birth scene where someone pulls out their own placenta. That is just not happening!

    In a way I was totally delusional thinking what I wrote was EVER going to make it into Sundance, but that mirage at least slowed me down for a while. Where I am usually excessively manic and a workaholic, I actually relaxed for a few weeks. Even though I thought I was going wallow in misery after this rejection, I actually feel pretty energized and ready to keep trying.

    I may not be where I want to be right now in my career dreams, but I think I am going to start sewing that penis costume anyway.

    Look how happy he is!

    aufblasbares-penis-kostuem-sexy-kostuem-bachlor-party-zubehoer-frivole-karnevalskostueme-18261

    December 21, 2015 • Musings, Working Mommy • Views: 528

  • I Don’t Love You Anymore!

    The Munch is still in a state of healing from her eye surgery. It is for sure WAAAYYY more complex than I imagined, and as it stands right now the doctor is thinking that we may have to do another operation. I of course REALY don’t want to put Munch through that, so have been going hard on the holistic healing front.

    In these past few weeks I’ve taken her to a variety hippy doctors, and they all say her body is still processing the trauma of the experience. Because I want to be as proactive as possible, there are a bunch of things I am trying in order to address both the emotional and physical distress. This is the short list:

    1) Eye patch glasses: Munch didn’t want to wear an eye patch because she didn’t think patches were “fashionable,” and the adhesive gave her cheek a rash. So I made her some super sweet Hello Kitty glasses with a ballerina patch over the good eye. Now she looks like a punk rock pirate, and will wear them around her friends.
    2) Pills for her blood/liver: My acupuncture lady said we needed to support her liver/blood to keep tendons and eyes healthy. I brewed Chinese herbs for 2 days in hopes that Munch would drink it, but she refused because it tasted like “monkey poop and pee.” But she did learn to swallow pills so at least that is happening – but she is also now irrationally excited about swallowing pills… which makes me somewhat concerned for her future and doing ecstasy. PS I am also now drinking the “monkey poo and pee” drink because I don’t want it to go to waste, and it tastes more like giraffe semen.
    3) Eye Games: We play games with flash cards where I make her move her eye around. This game has now evolved to me also playing, and working out my eye, which can now bench press 250 lbs.
    4) Massages: I massage her leg to stimulate blood production, her feet to lower stress, her head to relax the brain, and her eye to bring awareness of healing. This is a 30 min process where I have to keep her relaxed and entertained so she doesn’t squirm around. This means I tell stories the entire time, which I make up from the top of my head. I now have carpel tunnel syndrome in my hands from all these damn massages, and probably should enter an improv group for my amazing off the cuff story telling abilities – although many of them end with someone farting really loud.
    5) Singing: Now I have to make her sing as much as possible because the vibration in her head is healing, but she HATES it when I sing because The Munch is a musical snob… sooooo this one isn’t going so well.

    I have also been taking her to healers who do cranial sacral work and trauma release. I have noticed that when we get home from these visits, she has total meltdowns that night. The Munch isn’t really one to have tantrums, so I figure she is getting out these buried emotions that she kept in while trying to be cooperative during the surgery. She was excessively stoic, and maybe needs to get some of the fear and rage out?

    I have been trying to give The Munch space to have these outrageous moments of outburst, and not take them personally or get angry with her for acting out. I know her well enough to know this isn’t her normal behavior, so there is no point in punishing her for needing to release. But this is what it looked like last night.

    The Munch: Mamma, can I have a candy cane?
    Toni: There is no way! It is bedtime, and you can’t eat a candy cane right before bed.
    The Munch: But I WANT ONE!
    Toni: That is understandable because candy canes are delicious. But you have to wait until tomorrow. You can have one then.
    The Munch: Well I can eat it anyway, and you can’t stop me.
    Toni: Of course I can. I am way bigger than you and can take it from you. I would rather you just put it away and have it tomorrow.
    The Munch: Try and take it from me.
    Toni: I am not going to do that.
    The Munch: Just try and take it from me.

    Okay fine… I am the grown up and could have refused. But she was TAUNTING ME OKAY!

    I grabbed the candy cane and it she held onto the hook, and now the other half was in my hand.

    The Munch: AHHHHHHHHHHHHH YOU BROKE IT!!!! WAAAAHHHHHHAAA
    Toni: Dude I am sorry. I didn’t mean to break it. It was an accident!
    The Munch: WELL YOU DID BREAK IT!! WAHHHHHAAAA
    Toni: You told me to try and take it!
    The Munch: WAAAAAHHHHHHHHAAAAAHHHHHAAA!!! YOU BROKE IT!
    Toni: I didn’t mean to break it, but you did tell me to try and take it. Besides, you can have the pieces in the tomorrow. It gets all broken up in your tummy anyway. I will save them for you.
    The Munch: I DON’T WANT IT TO BE BROKEN! I DON’T LOVE YOU ANYMORE! AND I AM TAKING MOLLY FROM YOU AND YOU WILL NEVER SEE MOLLY AGAIN. EVEN THOUGH SHE IS YOUR FAVORITE STUFFY.

    The Munch then went into my room, and got my stuffed animal dog named Molly, and hid her. Okay fine a grown up isn’t supposed to sleep with stuffed animals. But I have had molly for 25 years! I always sleep with Molly!

    The Munch: There! Now Molly is hidden and you will never find her!
    Toni: Munch I hear that you are angry, but I think you maybe need some time to think and calm down and then we can talk.
    The Munch: NO! I am locking you in my room and YOU CAN NEVER LEAVE!
    Toni: Never? What if I get hungry?
    The Munch: You will get nothing to eat!!!
    Toni: So I would just starve to death in your room?
    The Munch: YES!!!
    Toni: So when people ask you “what happened to your mom?” you would just say “oh I got super mad because she broke my candy cane so I locked her in my room. She eventually starved to death and died.”
    The Munch: Yes!
    Toni: Don’t you think you would maybe miss me?
    The Munch: YES I WOULD!
    Toni: Okay well can we think of a solution for you to feel better so you are not yelling or trying to starve me to death?
    The Munch: NOTHING WILL MAKE ME FEEL BETTER EXCEPT FOR WATCHING MY LITTLE PONY OR EATING A NON BROKEN CANDY CANE.
    Toni: Well, neither of those things are going to happen.
    The Munch: WELL THEN YOU CAN’T MAKE ME HAPPY!
    Toni: Of course I can’t make you happy! You have to make your elf happy! Can you think of something that might make you happy? Like maybe you could jump on the bed and then into my arms.
    The Munch: Ummm okay.

    Then she was totally fine and we did our 45-minute healing routine and I got early onset arthritis. This morning we talked about it…

    The Munch: I love you. You’re the best mommy in the whole universe.
    Toni: Remember when you told me last night that you didn’t me any more? Did you mean that?
    The Munch: No… I was just angry.
    Toni: I know. But when you say harsh things, even when you are angry, it can really hurt someone’s feelings. You have to always be careful with your words, because you can never take them back.
    The Munch: Well you didn’t seem like your feelings were hurt last night.
    Toni: That is because I’m your mom, and moms are always more forgiving towards their children. Not everyone will be that way. I knew you didn’t mean those words, but I also know you have been going through a lot, so have a lot of emotions you are working through.
    The Munch: Maybe you also knew you shouldn’t have broken my candy cane.

    She does look pretty bad ass right?

    don't-love-you-(i)