Archive | November, 2012

From The Dressing Room

23 Nov

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Hello all, and welcome to the ladies dressing room. I am currently the only one in it, as Maria is presently off being married.

…An attentive audience laughs now and then, obligingly, as I touch up my makeup for bows.

…I keep winking at the mirror, as a bobby pin headache began some time ago, attacking just behind my left eyeball. Also, my tummy is grumpy…prob’ly from that giant cheese plate I ate for dinner. Oh the drama that is my life!

A fellow castie joins me now, her nose in a book. Homework, mid performance, backstage. Aye, I remember it well…

***

And now we convene at the post-show watering hole. I’m tired, my tummy is still rumbling…fucking cheese of awesome. I need to get some zzz’s a’fore the second dude callback that Marty n’ I have with Mr. Director to find us a male lead, tomorrow morning.

…Then it’ll be onto cookie baking with The BFF, and the meeting and supping with Marty’s Ma, and shows, followed by cast party number 350. We’s a happening group.

Happy Black Friday, all.

~D

Loud & Joyeous

22 Nov

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I come from a large family.

…Holidays in our house meant no less than 27 people…with just the one side of Mom’s gene pool, and their immediate families. 

…Kids had their own tables and counter seating arrangements, because there just wasn’t room at the main one for all.  Even with the extender put in, and the extra leg props pushing the main table out, well into the living room…with chairs brought in from the patio and stacks in the garage, we would still sometimes have to squeeze in standing-room-only spaces.

…The kitchen would be stifling before ten A.M. with turkey-cooking and general capacity…with Mom and the aunts stirring things on the stove and fresh baked pies and side dishes arriving more and more by the moment. Two refrigerators full of fixings yet to be cooked and baked…cousins running around, playing games outside, wrapped in layers of coats and scarves, so our red, flushed faces glowed as our breath panted out in clouds of white in the crisp fall air.

In time, all the men, arguing over football plays in the living room, with beers-in-hand, could be heard in bear-like booms of laughter and anxious defeat.  Babies suckling from the newest Moms as they conduct instructions to their sisters, buzzing about in recipe over-drive.  Gram, being everywhere at once, completely in her element…someone losing the stuffing ingredients again, and scouts sent through the house to look in overnight suitcases, and diaper bags to find them. 

…An infusion of noise as the kids break in to thaw out a bit, shoo’d from the kitchen by their mothers.  Infants laid down to nap. New shifts in the kitchen as seating places are being set, and food comes to final bake and boil and plate. Gramps seated at the table’s end, watching all the work, with wry commentaries he gets a kick out of, and to act as official taste-tester on certain sauces and the rutabagas.

…And everywhere, in every room of the house, for all of the day long…loud, loud conversations taking place…only magnified as the day grows longer, by heat and wine and food…excitement, and general people-excess.

…So loud at times, with the men screaming at the TV screen, play-by-play, of the women laughing and telling jokes while cooking, of babies chattering,  the cousins “Haloo-ing” to one another, in hide-and-seek places up and down the hallways…that a moment of solitary in the bathroom during pee breaks, would make your ears ring with it’s silence. 

It felt so removed, those moments. 

…Like a wormhole where you were on one side and everyone else, at the other end…faintly heard in the distance, in gregarious employments, you were only annoyed that mere natural bodily function, was making you miss out on. 

Holidays with our family always made me feel badly for all those three and four-people families. Small, quiet, respectful, classy people…in their formal go-to-chapel best…Holidays like the kind they have in romantic comedy movies.  None of which we are an example of.  We were more of the family Griswold, “National Lampoon” stream, without a doubt…with all the curiosities, eccentricities, dramas and ridiculiousnesses that go with it.  Ask me then, or now: I never in a million years would have changed that, for anything.

As time has passed, spreading our family’s large number, like seeds on the wind, to new corners of the world…some to new corners now, in Heaven…Holidays seem to be more a time of reflection and thankfulness than they ever were before.  Because I can spend a quiet Holiday feast with four people today with the memories and history of those other’s behind it.

…Sometimes, a little sadly, yes.  Because I miss that loud, brazen, bellowing, laughing, arguing, baby-crawling, cousin-playing, surrounding of the truly peculiar breed of humanity that I hail from.  All those frustrating, brilliant, weird bastards, who I love more than anything, and miss like nothing else of bestness, on earth.

On quiet Holidays like today…which I am still so thankful for…I can’t help but remember those we once had in the past.  For all the world, I could swear eight or nine times today…faintly in the distance of my childhood, I could hear it all again.  A wormhole to our family past.  And I wish, more than anything, I could rejoin it, even just one more time…even just for a moment…in all it’s loud, joyous, wonderfulness…with all the people who are of my people, and who I belong to.

…Then, I remember: I can. In memory.  Any time I want to.

…And I’m thankful for that.

I’m thankful for that, and them, and even (reluctantly), the fact that time has passed and things have been forced to change.

The BFF is home again…even for just a little bit, back in her place at my stove, and me at my place at table: chopping and prepping as we gossip and sing and play on. Last night, after hours of loud joking, and shopping, and laughing, and winking insults, and spur-of-the-moment hugs…(just because we can), because we are here together now…was a many-moment deja vu.

…Later plating and feasting, The Fella and Marty adding to the family, by-turn, as the clock struck further into the night…squealing loud peals of delights over newly uncorked wine, and homemade eats…with everyone telling stories at once, and nobody listening, and bad jokes being played on one another, a tattling of the most embarrassing of stories we have to share…with the TV blaring in the background, and spontaneous bursts of laughter….with new infusions of energy and more friend arrivals as the night went on…well into the early hours of this morning.

…This loudness of epic proportions!

…So persistent and present! So joyous, and irreverent! And so…”my family.”

I realized, the coming of full circle, not once but many, many times across the night.

…Which, to me, is sorta like a wink from above, by those who’ve gone on before, and know me best.

A long story to say: I hope you and yours…be they family of your blood and bones, or of your soul and spirit…had a happy Holiday today.

…Cuz I know me and mine did 🙂

~D

BFF Chefing & More

21 Nov

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The BFF is home from L.A. for a short week’s holiday with the us’s, who have missed her so.

…After a two hour journey that turned into six somehow, because apparently Virgin Airlines likes to relocate people by way of camel.

Due to overt, gross amounts of sexing tween her and The Fella, I was not allowed to see her upon arrival.  But today, I get to give her a monster hug…live, IN PERSON…and do that talking seventy miles a minute thing…even though we basically kept one another updated on everything already anyway.  Cuz it’s what girls do.  Even dude-ones.

…Anyway…the office is closing at one, (on command of Boss), and directly after, I will be swooping down upon her, at last! Together we will sweep our favorite shops for the best cooking goods and alcohol, and bring it all back to my house for our second favorite activity: togetherness cooking.  (Followed directly by our FIRST favorite activity: eating.)

Blending of the family, as is the case with EVERY Holiday, will bring Marty motoring up (thankfully, to provide another eating mouth and save us from our gluttonous selves)…and then, a meet with the next show’s Director, to drunkely talk character n’ script stuffs before our first read on Sunday.

…Cuz, yep, it’s team Marty and Roz, in this next one. 

Our fourth show together (third in a row), and the FIRST time we will actually get to work with one another for more than one line, on stage.

And I am so incredibly grateful to be intrusting all this personal history shit, with an already-sister, whom I would trust to Thelma-and-Louise lengths, on any journey that life would ever see fit to throw at us. 

You n’ Me, kid.  Let’s jump in that Cadillac and never look back.

…But before we peal out, stirring up all that dust with our tires…we DO have two weeks remaining on “Twelfth Night,” and its family…to continue to play and grow with.  We have time to enjoy the here-and-now with these people…and much as we are both eager beavers at digging in and getting right to work…we have earned this moment of happy play time with our current cast.

It’s been a good season of theatre this year.

…Have worked with four companies, met gallons of new friends, spent quality time with old ones, and have learned a lot. 

“Children’s Hour” will be the first of the new Season, opening in January…a kick-start to (one hopes) a helluva 2013. 

…I wish for a comedy as it’s predecessor. 

…I wish to keep branching out in new directions with new companies.

…And I wish to look back at its season’s end with at least as much fondness as I do this one.

Am thankful for a lot, today. And now, I’m gonna go home and enjoy it!

~D

Hello, I Remember You

20 Nov

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Seems it’s time.

…Time to start down an old road, in search for some truth and hope.  Time to deal with happenings in the past, drag them out into the light and face them once again. 

In front of several hundred people.

…My head, already feeding on the script, I’ve started a companion album to the piece.  I do it a lot, when beginning work on a character.  Because music gets to the heart of the matter immediately…giving you a sort of soundtrack to play by. Something that can run in my head on the way to the theatre, and as I put on my makeup and set my hair every night. 

…Something playing as I watch my everyday face, literally disappear in the mirror in front of me…replaced by this new being who has a story they need to share with a couple hundred people out there.

Two of the songs on the list so far, are the launching pad of where I’m coming from, and what the character’s journey means to me.  We are sisters in a lot of ways, but I think her core of cores is one part love, and one part shame. 

…Themes you can’t escape no matter how hard you fight them. 

And I ought to know.

Welcome, Martha. 

I’ve got your back, kid.

~D

Dear SWAL 1.0

19 Nov

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It’s time for another installment of Marty’s Job Goes Viral. 

…For those of you just joining: read last month’s edition here.  For our frequent patrons: enjoy another select group of sexually frustrated and emo-fucked relationship questions, answered by yours truly.  These actual texts, IM’s and emails sent to Marty’s day-job inbox, are the top ten reasons we’ve found this month (in no particular order), of why working in the sex industry isn’t as glam as it seems.  (With all their original spelling and sentence structure.)

…These people exist, friends. 

And they are breeding. 

(Or at least are trying to.)

…God help us all.

***

Question: “From which planet u come from dear u re amazing u know how and when to say it. I like this topic u sent me, It’s a bomb ,sent more And it help my friend who was in need of it I just read to her before I forward it. Thanks and keep well.”

Answer: “We are happy here, on planet Earth, that you find our product of explosive goodness.”

~

Question:  “Hi its [Name] I have a question this girl he’s bin friends with my boyfriend for 6 years well he’s wasent seen her for a while And she finally shows up And they would hang together every day when I’m at School one day I vited her to Draink with us And a couple of my friends one of my friends caught Her kissing him now now a couple days later she texe him saying everything that happend was it all a lie I’m wondering what is everything And my boyfriend says its Nothein a day later he tells he’s come over when I wasent thar And I caught her my boyfriend told me becuse he wanted her to say sarry to me now what do you thank about this.”

Answer: “Dear [Name], (huge intake of breath) I-have-an-answer-for-you-but-you-might-not-like-what-you-hear-dude’s-been-cheating-on-you-with-this-“friend”-who-is-a-girl-and-there-are-just-no-two-ways-about-it-though-I’m-sure-if-you-asked-he’d-be-open-to-a-three-way-and-that’s-the-truth-so-how-I-look-at-it-is-either-sit-down-and-have-an-honest-talk-with-him-about-it-sharing-that-you-feel-he-has-an-inappropriately-close-relationship-with-this-chick-and-you-are-not-okay-with-it-then-see-how-he-reacts-and-go-from-there-or-you-can-just-go-all-loranna-bobbitt-cut-his-junk-off-and-hand-deliver-it-in-a-box-to-her-saying-‘found-this-in-my-bed-sorry-was-it-yours?-I-feel-really-bad-about-that.’ (huge intake of breath) Signed, SWAL.”

~

 Question: “my ex dumped me…saein v fought alot she cant handle d pressure…n it wasnt working well i met hr n decided v will b frnds bt since she dumped me i cudnt coop up vd it n fought again she tld she needs brk bt 4 me it wasnt possible i cnt stay away 4rm hr i dont knw wat happnd 2 hr she blockd me on watsaap n fb n she saes she cnt take me as frnd wat shud i do 2 gt hr back as my gf i still alot 4 hr”

Answer: “I’m sorry, we have no one at SWAL who speaks your native tongue. Please bare with us as we attempt to Google Translate your text, and transcribe our answers.”

Translation: Sory wat 4 no spake you-talk. giv min.

(Question Translation Of Question To English: I’ve been dumped, cuz I’m too much work for her right now, but she wants to be friends. I can’t be her friend so decided fighting with her about it would make her take me back, because I just have this stalker-like obsession with her and can’t let her go. Now she’s blocked me from every social network and form of contact in the free world, and says we can’t even be friends anymore. What should I do to get her back, I’m still obsessed.”)

(Answer In English: Look, I feel really badly for your loss, but you are swiftly approaching a point here where calls for restraining orders start getting distributed. Sometimes it just doesn’t work out, but you can’t force people to love you. It’s probably the most difficult lesson our program teaches: there is not always a “happy ending” to our love affairs. We must just accept that sometimes, we just need to let go, and move on with our lives. I firmly suggest, that you consider that, at this time.)

Answer Translation: “Dawg, m’gutz b twist wiv sory. But cheeze it, d fuzz b all in dat grilz shud u nt stp ghostin’ yo’ bitch. Naw ri’t. Naw sqr. She nt tap yr ass no mo’. No mak wiv d bee-bop, no bling-bling, no, “bitch, cal me?” Chill. No mo’ wiv it. She dun. Lots mo’ ass 2 b gt. Kick wiv othr n’ gt dwn wiv some “wat uuuup?!” axun in hr who-haw.”

~

Question: ” how..? as u wish bt i want she…. i love her”

Answer: “Straight up, we don’t know how the ‘Princess Bride’ is so brilliant with subtext either. ‘As you wish’ = ‘I love you?’ That shit is GOLD…and if WE had thought of copyrighting and marketing it as part of our product-base 20 years ago, I would be retired on a private island by now. However, what valuable lesson we CAN take from that quote, perhaps, is well-placed persistence and dedication to your courtship. Fear not, stable-boy Wesley…we have several ideal products to help you win your Buttercup, at last. (with a money-back, guarantee.)

~

Question: ” I THINK YOU SMOKE TOO MUCH CRACK OR METH!!! YOUR WHOLE FANTASY OF BEING MY MAN OR DATE IS WARPED, WE NEVER MET AND WE WERE NOT DAJUST BECAUSE WE SHARED SOME LOVE SONGS OVER THE INTERNET DOES NOT MAKE US A COUPLE. I WA JUST TRYING TO CHEER YOU UP BECAUSE YOU WERE DEPRESSED ABOUT GETTING DUMPED, SO DONT MAKE ACCUSATIONS AND WE NEVER HAD MUTUAL SEX, RAPE DOES NOT MEAN WE WERE LOVERS. SORRY YOU ARE NOT MY TYPE LET GO MOVE ON, AND STOP STALKING ME…”

Answer: “WELL, I THINK YOUR FAVORITE PORN IS SHIT! I TOLD YOU TO STOP FUCKING BOTHERING ME AT WORK! AND WHY DO YOU HAVE TO SHOOT DOWN ALL MY ROLE PLAYING IDEAS BEFORE WE EVEN START. ANYWAY, WHO SAID YOU ALWAYS GET TO BE THE “GUY”?!!?

~

Question: ” hi | can you plz help me ? by answering my question how can i make my bf love me more and more and never plane to leave me thanxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx”

Answer: “Get a credit card that doesn’t accrue airline miles, and let him play video games whenever he wants.”

~

Question: ” It was he contacted me…I haven’t even started text him. He came to me told me how much he missed me and wanted me back, i told him i will go out the next day with another guy. Then at midnight he messaged me said he think he is not good enough for me, he doesn’t know what he can give me. I replied to ask him get lost, and called him loser. Then he disappeared. What’s going on with him??”

Answer: “One hopes: a good woman who appreciates humility, affection and effort. Way to fuck it up, babe.”

~

Question: ” hello …i broked up with my ex 2years ago.. he left me for someone else n they are still together.. we seldom talked to each other but not publically .. actually her g.f even dnt knw dat he talked to me.. but i find one thing very unusual is dat.. he talked to me nicely for 3-4 days n after dat again he quit talking to me.. plz help me .. thanks!”

Answer: “Sorry, am a little confused on the number of people we are talking about here and their gender specificity. What I can say is that s/he sounds like s/he wanted a little side action, (despite being in another long-term relationship), but got caught by sh/iz significant other. Let it lay, is what I advise. There’s already a Queen bee in his life, no good comes from poking the hive.”

~

Question: ” Please refund me for the [product name.] I downloaded up to day 4 and haven’t returned. I’m sorry the vibrational energy is not compatible with me.”

Answer: “We will certainly refund your money, should you wish…however, before we do so, are you aware of our large product line available, outside of our fine vibrator collection? We would be more than happy to send you more info.”

~

Question: ” I would like you to email me….so that will can now talk better and will can now each other better and i wil like you to drop me your email so that will can now talk better and will can now know each other better……….i will be waiting for your reply asap..”

Answer: “You’re getting better…but we still need to work on our pronouns. Much better than the 59other passes, though. And you thought learning English just to woo a Mail Order Bride would be hard! Pfft! One more time, now…I feel 60 is your lucky number!”

***

…That’s all for THIS month, kids. See you with our next installment in December!

Best of Sweaty, Sexy Wishes To You All,

SWAL

~D

Exercising Demons

18 Nov

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Sometimes Actors like to go a little suicidal and play really close to the edge of the cliff. 

…In other words, they will take something that has huge personal relevancy, connotation and emotional cost, and exploit it for artistic means…which is a brave, twisted, painful….and some would say, “sick” thing to do.  But it is how people connect with truth. 

Being naked means a lot more than just taking your clothes off. 

…The most naked I’ve even been in my life, had me in three layers of 1940’s clothes, sporting a Dutch accent.  Clearly that wasn’t “me” up on that stage.  Clearly I had plenty of things to “hide behind” in the voice and look and age that I was portraying. But, because the story content was so very personal to me…because the character I was playing was a real person, whom I had studied and knew from my childhood…because the themes and History of it had helped to form me so much as a reader and artist, and human…the role had wormed its way to my innermost guts, weaving a special new fiber of marriage with not just my mind’s creative sector, but key emotional centers, and physical expressions. 

It quite frankly took me over. 

…Not all at once.  But at some point, every night, I would lose myself it it fully, without even being conscious of it…and the only point that realization would kick in would be at the shows end, when I’d sorta wake with a start, to the audience beginning to applaud our work.

…It’s the furthest I’ve ever been, the most raw I’ve ever felt, the most emotionally draining thing I’ve ever experienced, by far…on any stage.  And though you learn so much as a person, as an Artist, when roles like that (few and far between) come along…it is still a terrifying aspect of what we do, for everyone who is willing to travel that journey. 

…Fighting your personal demons in public is as naked as you will ever get, my friends.  And agreeing to it, embracing it, and not holding back, is riding that suicidal cliff edge, where some people can’t handle the mind-games it pulls on you, the nightmares it brings, the depressions that it can usher in, the sleepless nights, and obsessive pushing to places you have purposely left behind closed doors, to grow thick with dust and cobwebs and never be seen or heard from again.

Yesterday, I walked down the corridors and unlocked one of those doors, letting out not just vacant dustballs and “remember whens,” but a whole fucking Pandora’s box of shit. 

I knew it would happen. 

And I did it willingly. 

…And it actually mentally, emotionally and physically altered me for the remainder of the day, and well into performance last night.  An inconvenience when you have another show to do, and another character with other traits placed entirely where your head isn’t, and won’t be, due to the cost of being naked on a stage several hours earlier.

Callbacks were yesterday, just before our performance.

…With one hour and fifteen minutes buffer, a group of us, talked and ate and joked and tried to redirect our brains to better places in order to prep for this other thing we were soon needing to do. But on the inside, several of us who had vomited all to-real emotions out on the stage less than two hours earlier, were play-acting our way now through “life” because we were actually in no way prepared to merely dust off the age and disgust of the long locked rooms we had opened in our private-most inner sanctums. 

…In fact the room was so overwhelming before even barely crossing the threshold that it took two scene reads before I could calm myself down enough emotionally to USE the feelings instead of letting them completely overwhelm me.  I felt swarmed.  My body actually physically shook beyond my own control.  I had to concentrate so hard on the words to get them out with the proper amount of emotion and not the sea of it that I was feeling, that the poor bastards I read with had little help in their own work, from my direction. 

…But in time, I was able to wrangle my grasp onto it.  Could get on the back of it, as it thrashed around, and manage to stay on, and stay focused and stay with my scene partners.  And though it was only several passes at four scenes…neither of them the big emotional reveal and peak that the script eventually rises to…just knowing it was there…that the words I was speaking were in defence of this unspoken thing…that every line had a double meaning, later to ruin and/or alter people’s lives forever…and knowing that I once knew and fought that battle too…was a palpable thing. 

Exercising a personal demon.  Being brave enough after all these years to walk up to it, getting grip of it’s mane, and swing onto it’s back with determination that this time…this time, I am the boss of it, and I will use it to my own devices and needs…

…Because I have EARNED this moment. 

I’m done living in a house with another door I’m too scared to open.  Of course there are other attics and basements filled with personal fears and painful memories, too.  But yesterday, I decided this one won’t be among them anymore. 

…I may or may not be given the opportunity to air it for an entire audience.  Casting calls are still yet to be made.  But even if I don’t…for a day, in front of more strangers than friends…I faced that certain beast.  Which is more than I’ve done since the day I first locked it away.  And the sizable personal victory…followed by slightly sickening after-shock once coming down from the adrenaline rush, was worth it.

If not on stage, then in some other way…I’m ready to get this shit taken care of.

…And it feels horrible, gut-wrenching, good.

…And if you’re an Artist of anything…you totally know exactly what that means.

~D

The History Of Being A Woman

17 Nov

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…So as uncomfortable as this time of month likes to make me, there are certain moments…(like taking off a corset that’s been squeezing the shit out of me for four hours), wherein I am reminded that there were times when we ladies had it much worse. 

…Pre-drugs. Pre-sanitizing products. Pre-Women’s Lib.

…This morning, as I rolled around in usual pain-induced grumpiness, I decided to go on a little investigation course, and immerse myself in the Historical significance of this monthly curse… on our grandmothers: great-great-great and ancient, and how they dealt with it, and how society dealt (in turn) with them. 

Brave men who seek to understand us better: read on. 

Fellow women: read on with thanks, and infused superhuman wonder at the animals we are and what our bodies do.

***

First of all, it was a curse. 

…And thus, unclean for thousands of years, women at their time of month were (and still are, in some cultures) shunned and restricted from society and sight.  Like with the King in “Love Labours Lost,” women were banished from courts and communities routinely. The Romans attributed the deformity of the god Vulcan to the menstrual intercourse between his parents Juno and Jupiter. In the Biblical times, women on their cycle were forced to camp out, away from the community…making everything they even came in contact with, unclean.  In early European times, they were made to bare no restrictions to the process, or smell, or sight, or change ones garments for fear of increasing bleeding and disease.  The Mae Enga people of Papua New Guinea believed that contact with menstrual blood or a menstruating woman would “sicken a man and cause persistent vomiting.” In the eighteenth century in Saigon, no woman was employed in the opium industry because it was believed that if a menstruating woman were near, the opium would become ruined and bitter. To some it signified a laziness on the woman’s part for not having done her “job” at being consistently knocked up. Women who complained of menstrual cramps were sent to psychiatrists because menstrual cramps were seen as a rejection of one’s femininity…which, until the Victorian era, was seen (together with it’s yet unnamed PMS sister) as a mental deficiency, called simply “Women’s Hysteria.” Freud called it the “bloody sign of a woman’s loss of penis,” as a reminder of woman’s “uncleanliness and inferiority.” And to this day, it keeps women of several religions from practicing in all rights of belief, and in their own temples of worship, before an allotted amount of time and certain purification rituals have taken place.

…Our Lady-History isn’t all bleak, however.  Some cultures revered our body’s cycle, as a sign of strength and fertility. The Cherokee Indian’s believed it was a strength and source of power to destroy enemies. Ancient Roman, Pliny the Elder, wrote that a menstruating woman, uncovering her body, could scare away hailstorms, whirlwinds and lightening. In Ancient Greece, menstrual blood was thought as a wonder cure of disease and used in love charms and to ward off demons. In Africa, it is used in the most powerful magic charms to purify and to destroy, while in France, in the 1700’s, its scent was thought seductive and fertile.

However you have come to loath and/or embrace this monthly happening…whatever name you have given her, she has a history that should be noted…has become a defining form of cultures and words, and bottom line is: we would none of us be here without her. So have a little respect. Let it be noted:

…“Menstruation” is from Old English “mondablot” or “month blood;” in Latin, “menses” means “month;” an Amazon culture’s word for “woman” translates to “the person with a red streak down the leg”; and the term “period” dates back to 1822 meaning “an interval of time.” Furthermore, some menstruation words have much more tainted meanings: “The term ‘ritual’ is derived from the Sanskrit word ‘R’tu,’ which means ‘menstrual.’ This etymology suggests that ritual in a general sense and menstrual acts have a common origin;” Also, the “word taboo comes from the Polyneisain tapua, meaning both ‘sacred’ and ‘menstruation’… [where] sacred means both ‘set apart’ and ‘cursed’.” ~ Southern Bell Feminist

…Scholars also suggest that pre-modern men and women learned to think numerically by recognizing relationships between groups of numbers that were also units of time measured through menstrual rites…and may have led to humanity’s sense of time, as most early lunar calendars were based on the length of a women’s menstrual cycle. The family of words related to the English word “menstruation” include mental, memory, meditation, mensurate, commensurate, meter, mother, mana, magnetic, mead, mania, man, and moon…while the term “ovary” is from the Latin ovum or “egg.” In classical Latin, ovaries meant “egg keeper.”

…According to randomhistory.com, a woman will spend about 3500 days, in an average of 450 periods in her life. When a girl is born, her complete potential egg supply is born with her. In the womb, she creates about seven million egg cells. At birth, she has two million. By puberty, there are only about 400,00 left, of which fewer than 500 are actually released.

…And as for our history of “treatments” to her woes?

Ancient Egyptians used softened papyrus as rudimentary tampons. Hippocrates notes that the Greeks used lint wrapped around wood. By the mid 1800’s some had begun the use of homemade pads, made of wool, cheesecloth, cottons and rags. The 1870s -1890’s saw a slew of such invented for sale in forms from suspenders to belts, making an alternate disposable option for the wealthy. By 1921, post WWI, Kotex pads were on sale to the masses, a product devised by nurses in the field, using the more absorbable wartime bandages. The modern tampon was invented by Dr. Earle Haas in 1929, trademarked by the brand name Tampax, and was in wide circulation by 1931. And the 1970’s brought in the self adhesive, non-belted, pad.

…Together with drugs and natural remedies to help ease our physical pains, and hormonal roller coasters…we continue this longest of Living History reenactments, today, by the millions, all over the world. It’s kind of a big deal. According to quora.com, out of the 2 billion women of menstrual age in the world right now, 334 million are my blood sisters, this very moment.

334 million.

…At the same time.

…In all races, cultures, incomes, and beliefs.

Dear Mrs. Johnson,

You are a giant pain in my ass (and other places)…but when I look at the history and numbers and facts and fables of your insistence on “Being”…I kinda gotta give you some props. You’ve got some game. Okay…I said it. Now stop fucking with me. I have shit to do today.

Signed,

~D

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