I’ve Got It Bad- Monday June 13th

I am so incredibly moody. I am way moodier as a pregnant person than I usually am, and I’m usually pretty god damn moody. The problem with being a moody adult is that you usually have to act around normals*. When I’m with normals I could win a damn Oscar for the superior acting I do. Some of the really sensitive ones can tell I’m acting, but I assume they appreciate my efforts. Most normals think I’m one of them (maybe a little louder, maybe a little funnier, maybe a little more annoying).

My daily award winning performances are exhausting. When I break character things get pretty rowdy. And by rowdy I mean I am a real pain in the ass.

Lately I’ve been enjoying torturing myself by imagining that Tom G and I met in college, and had Tommy Jr at age 22. I like to lie on the floor and stretch my aching back and think about how much easier this would all have been if we didn’t have to also be grown ups. I suppose it would have been harder to get through, maybe I wouldn’t have been able to get through it at all. But when I’m feeling like torturing myself, I imagine doing this ten years earlier. It’s not a regret; it’s life without a time machine and access to foreseeing one’s future.

Other times if I’m feeling stuck and/or paranoid, I imagine that people around me are conspiring to get me to put roots down and never be able to leave this city. It wasn’t very long ago that we still could have hit the road. There were about five minutes where we didn’t have any debt, we didn’t have any responsibilities, and we could have just gone.

Now? Incurable grown-up-itis. This a fatal disease. In fact one of the ways I knew I had it was when I started performing the award winning act. Before that I would just happily ride the waves of moodiness shouting “sorry” over my back when I was particularly bad. Enough people stuck around because the good times were really good. Now? I keep showing up places feeling very serious. When I’m not acting I’m compensating, and tI require more training in compensating. If I tell one more dirty or otherwise inappropriate joke I think the FBI is going to start a file on me. Or whoever.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore. Some things I know I’m good at: Being a wife, a daughter, a sister, sometimes even being a good friend. I was a good waitress too. The other stuff eludes me.

* Normals are people who think I’m normal and expect me to act pretty normal. They are the same people who are surprised that I get depressed.

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  1. Alissa says:

    Don’t worry… I’ve decided I’m quite the actress too. Natalie Portman has nothing on me… It’s so difficult to keep up the act that I know I lose it a lot when I get home. But it would be harder to feel the hurt…the sad look in their eyes…. I don’t want that. Sounds like you don’t either. Hang in there.

  2. Leslie Ann says:


  3. Cathleen says:

    My husband keeps saying I’m more moody this time around. I think it’s him :-) . Sometimes I can’t decide if acting is better or not. I guess since I boycott most functions that make me think of my son, I would say I don’t want to act. If however, I compliantly place myself in those situations, I, like you, would win an Oscar every time.

  4. Suzy says:

    Ah yes. The normals. I have perfected my “act” over the years. The only people I dont bother acting around are my partner and my mother (who still cannot handle the real me, despite the many years since I dropped the act!)

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