2002-07-01 | 6:52 p.m.

corduroy licorice had to shake a leg. it had fallen asleep while he was playing video games.

***

today when people asked me how my weekend was, i replied, "mellow."

as soon as the word was out of my mouth, i realized it wasn't quite accurate. you see, saturday was actually pretty traumatic for me. on sunday, i was able to relax a bit, so by the time the monday role call came, i felt like i'd had a peaceful sum game.

the reason saturday was stressful was because it was my last improv class of the 12-week session. it was my last chance to impress my teacher before our final evaluation. i actually did really freakin' well that day...better than i had been all grinmester. it was quite a rush to be on a roll.

so class ends and we line-up in the hallway to wait our turn at being evaluated. i was pretty confident that i'd pass since i was one of the better perfomers in the class. even another classmate had reassured me that i was a shoo-in to be promoted up to the next level.

that set-up made it tougher when i sat down across from my teacher in the cool wind issuing from the water cooler and heard her say, "i really wanted to pass you, but you just didn't get 'balls out' enough for me. you're great at following the rules and have terrific dialogue, but i want you to believe you're going to do as well up there as i believe you can."

ok, yeah, it was a totally perfect supportive-teacher-in-a-PG-movie constructive criticism moment, i'll give you that. but despite her using words like "beautiful work" and "a delight to have in class," i couldn't help but feel like i'd been punched in the gut. i thanked her, smiled, and even agreed that repeating the course would mean i'd be a better improver in the long run. still, as i walked down the sidewalk, i was in the polar opposite mood of the day months ago when i stepped into the sunshine after nailing my audition (as the kids say) for the same class. this exit, i felt ashamed and disappointed and bummed to the nth.

cut to 45 minutes later after i'd stuffed an amazing grilled vegetable and feta cheese sandwich in my mouth and had had some time to sort things in my mind. i was feeling optimistic again. after all, it's the process of the class i enjoy...not some imagined SNL fame at the end of the line. and it will make me better to repeat. and the weaknesses i have in the class are the weaknesses i have in everyday life, so it's is like cheap, fun therapy to repeat! as an added bonus for the afternoon, an attractive fellow flirted with me when i walked back to the theater to buy show tickets. i was back on top!

then i phoned my mother. i wanted to share my ups and downs of the day with her because she's usually an understanding audience. all was going well until i started talking about how the class (which she doesn't understand my enjoyment of or interest in) is therapeutic for me. then my mother became the underminer. she got out her lantern helmet, smeared her face with coal and dug in.

"can you get therapy with your healthcare there at work? have you thought about it? i worry about your weird germ anxiety. have you thought about maybe taking paxil? it's supposed to work wonders."

um, mom. not a good time. my "way of being" was just painfully under the microscope earlier this morning. i don't need more criticism right now. it's what those in the psychological community might label a delicate time. take a clue from the english beat and save it for later.

i told her that while i'm aware i have some kind of OCD going on, it hasn't gotten to the point where it's interrupting my daily life (one of the warning signs). as much as i appreciate that medication helps a lot of other people, i have a really hard time with the idea of taking pills (legal or otherwise) that alter my brain chemistry.

this wasn't the first time she and i had had this exchange, so it was an uncomfortable rehash that caught me off-guard and ill-prepared. it really hurt. my mom was telling me that she thinks i'm a weirdo! argh!

"i really wish i knew where you got your anxiety...i mean your dad does some odd things," she continued.

it was at this point i had to stifle my laughter. if my mom entered the anxiety olympics, she would surely garner the silver medal. (the gold would have to go to woody allen.) she worries constantly and at times is a nervous wreck. i feel like a rock compared to her. so, good for me, i called her on it, asking her if she had considered paxil for herself. her response? so river of egypt. she's fine, i'm a freak.

so saturday night i was crying over my emotional rollercoaster of a day. it was one of those cleansing cries that left me feeling at ease in the a.m. and then today, i get more therapeutic relief from reading the similar messy mom stuff entries of a-d-d-chick and ms. dezine. i felt better knowing that i wasn't the only one struggling with maternal issues.

i'm realizing i'm at one of those crossroads moments in life when i have to make a bold move. to use my teacher's words, "grab the scene by the balls." i need to grab life by the balls. i need to tune out the negative static and childhood baggage and self-doubt.

fuck paxil. i need me some testosterone.

something tells me this upcoming independence day is going to mean a lot more to me than red, white and blue.

can you smell what nictate's cookin'?

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