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| The new group we're organizing for prevention |
Okay, first
of all I have a horrible confession to make. I quit working out. Yep, that’s
right, Samara, my friend. I screwed up. You know how on New Year’s Eve everyone
makes that healthy commitment to himself or herself to start working out? Well,
they do start, but it only lasts a few months most of the time. As weird as it
sounds, I have a fear of large groups of people if they’re behind me and I’m
unacquainted with them. I can’t sit in a restaurant with the door behind me and
a booth is generally better. You’ve heard that one before, right? When I’m
teaching a class, it can have a gazillion people in it and I’m fine as long as
I can see them. Perhaps this explains why I never won any marathons…
Anyway, so
the more people with this resolution, the harder it was for me to work out. I
tried coming in at earlier, totally weird hours as early as 2:00 a.m. and that
worked for a while, but then someone with a trainer started, which I worked
through until they brought two friends, and they brought two friends, and so
on… You get the picture. Alright, you got me! There were not ten people working
out at 2:00 a.m., but there were six! And they weren’t on any schedule!
Sometimes they would workout on the equipment I was used to using and totally
screw up my schedule. Is this an excuse? Could be. But I was working out
regularly last year for nearly five months and then I let this trip me up. I
tried all different times and ran into the same thing. Everyone was trying to
get into shape—it was terrible!
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| I wish this was me -- but alas, not on your life! |
Last week I
started back up again, even though I did work out sporadically throughout the
last couple of months. I started slow again, the treadmill, the stair climber.
Working my way up from a miniscule amount of time back to an hour. Today I
determined I was prepared enough to move back to the equipment after warming up
on the treadmill and followed up with half an hour on the stair stepper.
This younger woman with flaming red
hair waltzed in and handed me a dirty look on a paper plate when she passed. It
was red like auburn. Actually more like a reddish-magenta, hanging almost to
her waist in loose curls. And she had on make-up—lots and lots of it as if she
meant to go to the bar down the street and became disoriented, or perhaps the
gym was a backup plan after the bar closed.
I remember thinking she had to have
gotten up at the same time as me to get ready to work out. It only takes me
half an hour to yank my hair up, dress, brush my teeth, and grab my water and
towel. When I get home, I grab something to eat and hop into the shower. She’d
have to do all that with an extra half hour each time she pulls out the spatula
(not to make food, but apply the make-up). Who does that? I mean, if she’s
looking to pick up a guy he’s bound to see her without make-up eventually, unless
it’s a one-time deal. And usually people that work out are there to get
healthier, not clog their pores with oils and powders before building up a
sweat.
You may think I’m jealous, after
all she is quite a bit less chunky and younger than I. But if I happened
jealous, wouldn’t I be someone who wears make-up regularly? The only time I do
is when I have to make a presentation or be seen as some sort of role model,
when it’s expected of me. Wait, that isn’t true. I’m supposed to wear make-up
at my teaching job, but I don’t. I figure if they want Vanna White to teach the
class, they should make their tests a little easier. I wasn’t hired for my
dazzling appearance, but for intelligence and crowd control; the general
aspects of being a mother for a group of thirty hormone-raging individuals.
Even though I tend to spread myself
thin, I somehow find I work better under controlled and organized stress. This
weekend I’ve already completed all my work for school to brainstorm on this
other task I’ve undertaken for drug prevention. I’ll contact homeless shelters
and prisons to find out about interviews pertaining to drug users to see what
information I can channel. (I need a decent video camera though because mine
isn’t the best, but I’ll make due.) I have a speaker and a vocalist already
participating and I’ll need to contact libraries (although mine already agreed
to it), universities, schools, etc. quickly, because this year’s almost over.
Meanwhile,
the next two months I’m inundated with a screenplay that must be complete Vermill!on Beach, at least
as a novel. The first draft is complete, which is enough spine to use for the
script. The novel is of 250 pages during the first draft, which isn’t bad, but
a script is only 100 to 120 pages long. The tricky part is removing all the
things the character is thinking to herself and making it visual so the
audience can see and hear what she’s thinking in conversation without her coming
right out and saying it like a dork—oh yeah, and change the tense. Anyway, I’ve
got a couple of months to do it and at 5 pages a day I should be able to sort
through it a couple of times. (Crossing my fingers!) There should be a way to
cross fingers on the internet, but I suppose the symbol may look like some kid
trying not to wet her pants.
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| Opening of Vermill!on Beach screenplay |
Afterwards,
the following couple of months I plan on being stationed in California, coming
back just in time to graduate. For those curious as to why I’m single? It’s
easy—I’m married to my work and couldn’t be happier. The hardest part is making
sure my kids get the attention they need and I get the attention I need, which
seldom happens. But anyone who’s ever been a real parents knows exactly what
I’m talking about. Nevertheless, I have no interest in men as anything more
than friends, just like women. I simply have no time for games.
Oh my gosh! My cell phone! I use
the Go Phone plan through AT&T, right? I was changing my little flip phone
over to a new phone with a different SIM card and rate plan, so the rep told me
two weeks ago to wait until my plan runs out and renew the whole thing through
them, so I waited. Last night I called and got some weird dude who was trying
to walk me through it step-by-step even though I told him I didn’t have a house
phone (Being the only adult, why would I?) Then I told him I needed to have the
phone numbers switched from one card to the other, so perhaps I would be better
off taking it to the center where they could perform the task easier, because
they have their own phone to use, right? Besides, the SIM card would not change
from my old phone to my new one because the sizes vary.
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| "Customer Service" - What the hell is it? |
The guy kept arguing with me and
then would start over with, “Okay, so I’m going to call you back in a few
minutes on the same number.” First, he never had me even set up my new phone
with the SIM card, battery, etc. and second, I just told him I need to transfer
the data. He promised he could transfer the numbers from one phone to the other
from his data center. “Wow, really?” I said, “That’s totally new because I
thought the information on the SIM card was private and you had to manually
transfer the data.” He said, “No, I can do it from here.” Really? Technology
sure has made some astounding headway, if that’s true.
I explained if he calls me back,
I’m still going to be on my old phone. He didn’t get it. I told him I was going
to the center and have them do it. He said “Okay, that sounds good then. So
tell me when you want me to call you back.” I hung up.
Oh yeah, we
didn’t get to the shoot either. My friend had a last minute invitation to go
see a play and part of the shoot is from the front door at night. We decided to
wait until next week. I’ll need to tell Jen, my
CGI agent, to hold off. She’s busting her butt to get it done by next
week, and it’s not going to won’t happen.
Today,
coincidentally, I am teaching Drama/Yearbook at one of the schools, which will
be fun. Who knows, maybe I’ll learn something. Even though I’m the instructor,
I try to learn something every day and this is a great opportunity. So go
ahead, let the cat out of the bag. I’ve got so many little things going on, I
need to step lively. I’m creating a presentation about people using drugs, this
week; working on Vermill!on Beach to
complete by the end of May, hopefully not going is an absolute waste.
It’d be like going to La Caille, means "the quail" in French (an expensive restaurant) and eating a salad
over the course of the four hour meal without eating a complimentary dessert.
Which, by the way, you never get at La Caille. But if it was free after
spending $200, wouldn’t a person be foolish to skip it?
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| Susan Albershardt |
Lastly, I’ve
decided to include my talents by giving back to humanity. I’ve requested
several friends’ help in creating a program called Messed Me Up for teens and
adults in battling narcotics, cigarettes, and alcohol abuse. The going is slow
because of all the people in libraries, schools, prisons, shelters, and
newspapers I need to contact, but moving in the correct. I’m certain the work is worth the reward, if only
one person’s life is changed for the better.
