Treading water in hell’s swimming pool
A while ago, I gave myself a year to deal with motherhood. I have three more months to loaf around, then I must figure out the rest of my life. In the meantime, this site is being redesigned by a real artist, not me. The pro website, the one that's paying my mortgage and KilBaby's health insurance, will be launching Aug 20th. Our son is crawling all over the apartment, he follows us from space to space. (You can't legitimately say room to room in a NYC apartment. It's misleading.) Best Week Ever still throws me on television every so often. I started taking more nights off, and lately I've been happier onstage. Less is more, at least now.
My birthday was last week, and it was one of those "what have I done with my life" birthdays. Not much, I decided. Not enough. When I started doing standup, I was so excited. When I was trying to get a writing job on Tough Crowd, I was so excited. I want that feeling again. I want to believe in something (or myself) so much that I make a miracle happen.
I also want to kill Michael Vick. War is understandable to me, but I can't bear a rich man hurting animals for fun. Dogs, pitbulls. Like my old dog Pinky, who I haven't seen in years because Gennady and I decided a clean cut was the best idea. And I know she's in great hands, so I'm ok. But I saw Pinky's face in all those dog faces, and Michael Vick in all his arrogant awfulness. Laughing, betting. I couldn't sleep for days.
Sometimes, I wake up and run scenarios of the awful things that could have happened to KilBaby that day, had I been more careless. Like when I gave him a bath and his head went under the water for a second. What if it had been ten seconds? What about when I was swinging him from his feet? What if I'd hit his head on the wall? And crossing the street? And what if the windows fell out and he dropped on the sidewalks? The ceiling could cave in, it happens! I can do this for hours, up all night, giving myself the chills. Dogs, babies... everything wonderful is vulnerable. It's unbearable at times.
Dying Happy?
My scriptlets are finished, I'm sending them out on Monday. The time I spent worrying about writing them vs the time I spent writing them: 100 : 1. Now, feedback and someone decides whether to pull the trigger and shoot them.
A cloud of malaise still hovers overhead, but I am working through it. Sort of. I should probably be in therapy. If I still feel like this after KilBaby's first birthday, I'll make time for it. Something about a life spent trying to get spots has made me dread being alive. Many years ago, I saw Dana Carvey perform and I thought if I could be that comfortable speaking in front of people, I could die happy. Well, I've been a comic for almost twenty years and if my JetBlue flight explodes tomorrow night, I'll die dissatisfied and annoyed.
I am deep in the rabbit hole of vaccination debates. Do I vaccinate KilBaby? The current vaccination schedule for infants is extremely aggressive. Some of the vacs contain aluminum. Many of them used to contain mercury. Right now, hospitals try to vaccinate newborns for Hep-B at birth. What baby, besides baby Tommy Lee, needs a Hep-B vaccine when he is just days old? How about my son gets cold sores first and then we'll talk the Hep-B vaccine.
Polio was eradicated from the Western Hemisphere in 1994. Why does KilBaby need a polio vaccine at 2 months, plus boosters? Can't the polio vac wait until mom gets casino work in Nigeria? The CDC and FDA are ass-covering federal bureaucracies and vaccines are huge business for Merck, et al.
I wish that most of the anti-vac websites didn't look like this. Oh well, I guess we all have a copy of Pagemaker lying around.