It was inevitable.

About three weeks or so ago, I got a text from the boss lady to come to her office ASAP.*

When I got down there, the Big Boss was on speaker phone.**

The first words come from her: “Hi, Amy. First, you didn’t do anything wrong.”***

<dog head tilt> ****

Okay. Well, at any rate, I was very glad. What’s going on, though? I’m worried…and intrigued.

So here’s what had happened:

I posted on Twitter (a rare occurrence) about a lesson that I was really excited about, because it sparked connection, understanding, and more light in the world. I read a book for kids called, “Introducing Teddy,” about a teddy bear called Thomas who is sad, and finally tells a friend that they really feel like a girl teddy, and not a boy, and she would prefer to be called Tilly. It is a sweet book that you would think would lead to an excess of love and compassion, wisdom and understanding, rather than fear and wrath and ignorance and intolerance.

You would be right. But you would also be wrong.

A far right fearmongering account found my post.

Very few people comment on my posts, a couple of likes or loves, maybe a comment or two, but on this “libs of TikTok” site there was so much vitriol and hatred, I was floored. At first, I was shocked. Then…it was kind of exciting. I had an incredible amount of power over so many people! Evidently, I trigger AAAALL the MAGAs. But as I read on, I just got depressed at all the horribleness and idiocy in the world, or at least the ignorance and misunderstanding.

Some of it is funny. Like the guy/bot who wrote that I looked like a man. And I wish I could respond, so I could post an image of a person agape**** and explain to him that the ENTIRE LESSON is about the fact that gender is a SOCIAL CONSTRUCT! And why does he think there’s anything wrong with the way men look? Some are quite decent looking. <Photo of my love, and Gavin Rossdale.>**** But you can’t respond, because that’s just a dumpster fire waiting to happen.

There was a 5+ minute video with a woman who seemed sincere, who just didn’t understand that the book is not to suggest to kids that they might be trans (horrors!), but to understand and accept others who may not be cisgender, like probably the vast majority of people they see in their lives.

At any rate, now I’ve got some trolls. But it’s showing me that I’ve also got the loveliest friends, because they’re reporting my trolls/bots for me. And fighting for a better world like that is what fosters love and connection.

Fortunately for the trolls, I’m a little tech challenged. And I don’t know HOW to see their shitty posts. SO JOKE’S ON THEM!

 

 

*Oooooooohhh, girrrrrl, you’re in trooooouuuuble….

**SHIT, GIRL, START a-PACKIN’!

***…general troooouuuuuble? Uh oh…

****Look one up on your own, bitches, I’m busy.

So yesterday was horribly frustrating. I couldn’t get my demos to upload to my site, so I couldn’t send out queries to producers or authors, so I felt stuck, and all I did was look around sites like The Voice Over Network and Facebook* and get overwhelmed. I had to edit a chapter to calm down and remember, “Oh. This is why I do this.” And also, “Oh. This is why I’m a theatre actor in Chicago, and not hustling in LA.”

So, my body, feeling awful, told me that this is unsustainable. And I decided to make a plan: Post, don’t look. The internet is mostly ugly, and it’s not for you. You get to exist in the real world, in forests, backyards, beaches, and your own private Disco Booth.

 

 

*Feh. May Meta grow like an onion, with its head in the ground. But now that I’m Marketing Me, I kind of have to.

I cannot believe how much I’m getting out these days. Last night, my friends from the night before and I went to Berger Park Coach House and saw another friend workshop her one-woman piece “about” bathtubs. The script was excellent, the acting was astounding, and the directing was amazing. The complete piece was lovely, in the most sensory sense of the word. It really just needs a producer to make it happen. Autobiographical, but fictional. I’ll yell all about it when it happens for real so you can see it.

***HIGHLY RECOMMEND!***

“Eileen Tull is a theatre QUEEN!” -me, in awe

I went to a poetry reading last night. I saw the old “Maker of Worlds” crew and heard them read poetry.

The featured poet was Rita Mookerjee, a fabulous, LGBTQ+ poet who commanded the space. I’m not usually into hearing a lof of poetry being read, but I could have listened to her all night. The poems were great, and the performance was wonderful.

I didn’t get a chance to read until Jeri, Wendy, and I went out for drinks after, but here are the 2 that were on my phone (so I had them to read). I wrote them in France. Which is why they were on my phone.

 

 

That was what the dreams back home were of.

Walking through the shaded glade with friends

The feelings of those nights not long ago

a déjà vu of something not yet seen.

 

i give my heart as fully as I can

Further than I was but growing on

Flying over roadblocks stumbled through

With each step being closer to my home.

 

——

 

My breakfast is made up of hollowed out things.

An egg

A kiwi

Pomplemousse juice

My enemy’s chest cavity

 

 

 

And scene. Thank you for coming.

 

Well! Apparently, when you work alone in the house all day with 2 dogs and an Adam, and don’t see anyone else, except on a computer, and maybe a once a week date with the neighbor friend, you are in a better place to actually want to talk and network with people! I met a lovely person through Zoom at an audition today, and also I’m wanting to send messages to the lovely people on the Diversity in Audiobooks panel. This is good.

ANNNND I am more inclined to go out and do stuff at night, such as hear poetry at a bookstore, or see a show. And I can’t wait to talk to people at that bookstore! This is unlike me.

Or is it like me, and I just didn’t know because I never had the energy before? I don’t have to get up early. I can mingle till the wee hours. And that’s when all the good mingling happens.

School has ended for now, and I have taken up my position once again in The Disco Booth downstairs.

I have goals, of course I have goals. Here them are:

1. Be amazing. ✅
2. Make enough money to cover health insurance.
3. Make enough money to cover a JCC teacher’s salary.
4. Make as much money as Adam.
5. Make as much money as Adam and me at the JCC combined, possibly adjusted for inflation.
6. Make F.U. money.

I am happy. I am so happy. It feels like I’ve gotten out of jail*–not because teaching is jail; the JCC is a delightful place. Teaching is just not my calling–but because I am free to follow my heart. I don’t I have to squeeze all of my projects into my spare time. And that gives me energy to do other creative things in my spare time.

 

*Not prison, jail. I’m sure nothing can compare to prison.

I am retired from preschool teaching!!!!! I officially work the gig economy now, and the I’m my own boss jokes haven’t even gotten old yet.

My people sent me off well, with a cool ass tote bag, a cute little plant, pizza, green beans, and a giant tray of mediterranean meat and rice that Bree ordered the other day. We froze it, and it will serve us well in these sparse days of hustling.

And 2 of my kids got me cookies and candy, and a large gift card we will be using to get steak at L Woods one day when the ramen will have become overwhelming.*

Seems to be that when you leave you feel the most appreciated.

 

Now I’ve got 2 years to Make It before I would have to do the Walk of Shame back to the JCC. Wish me luck. And if you want to send leftovers, we are really going to miss those.

Sincerely,

A New Amy**

 

 

*Kidding. I’ve been trying to get Adam to cook ramen with me for years.

**A BOSS Amy! Monday I have orientation and sexual harassment training with myself.

Know what I don’t have anymore? A meeting on what to do if a guy with a gun comes in and starts shooting babies.

 

“OH MY GOODNESS. YOU ARE A GENIUS!!!! THIS IS BETTER THAN I EXPECTED!!! Thank you so much. This is for a script that I’m doing. Will let you hear it when I finish later this summer and I will be in touch with more projects. YOU ARE THE BEST!!!”

-Person on Fiverr

The most incredible thing I’ve ever seen posted on Facebook was a work of comedic genius.

A guy from high school posted an article written by a male doctor on how to clean a vagina.

And he was WRONG.*

My mind was blown. He couldn’t have been serious, right? I mean, here is this inception of males, instructing us on how to take care of our own bodies. I had so many responses to that, I didn’t know where to begin.

I supposed with the benefit of the doubt. This was too good to not be a joke. In which case, it would have been appropriate to say, “Well DONE, Sir! You had me going there! You got me good. This is a work of comic genius, and I salute You, the King of Irony. Thank you for your service.”

But I didn’t actually have such faith in that, and in the responses was nothing to indicate it was anything other than a sincere attempt to…I wanna say…help? And if I was absolutely sure it was serious, I would have said, “You do hear and see yourself, right? Because I’m seeing you, and first off, let me applaud your chutzpah. Second of all, nobody asked you, dude. And finally, vaginas are like my oven: SELF-CLEANING. If you don’t like the state of someone else’s vagina, you are under no obligation to visit one! So grow up, but until then, you can literally go fuck yourself. Love ya mean it!**”

So I wasn’t sure either way. So just to be safe, I said very clearly, “Don’t EVER put soap in your vagina.”

Did I miss an opportunity? Was I vehement enough? Did I keep even a single woman from soaping up her cooter?

I’ll never know.

 

 

*Soap. In your vagina. Why are men allowed to be doctors?    #notallmenIknowIknow

**I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have said this last part.

So what she says is always very grumpy, but what she does seems to be the opposite of that. So I suppose if you can ignore her grouchiness, she’s great. I get it. Kids never listen anyway. Except for ZPW in my class. She soaks up everything and is incredible. But she’s not my story to tell.

However, some of the kids (including her) were talking in the fall, and I promised them I’d call them in 20 years to say hi and catch up. So if I am/we’re all still around, stay tuned.