I quit my day job.
Don’t get excited, I got another one; I can’t give up the baller feel of having an income.
BUT I’m kind of thrilled to have a month off. I got cast in two movies during my break (INSERT self congratulatory woot woot here because LA). One of them is a desert noir thriller with sex, drugs and rock-n-roll in it. BUT THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH ME in the movie; I play an old lady who personifies death and evil. The name of my character in the script is literally “Old Lady”. It’s great being over 50 in LAA. (CRY FACE EMOJI)
Technology sucks and am I an angry person?
Yesterday my phone auto corrected my name to “MARY BE QUIET”. It stunned me because I am used to that type of treatment from guys literally everywhere all the time, but my phone? I know how to counter-act this stuff; I am prepared at any time to launch Feminist Fight Club moves against men in the office when they behave this way, but my phone? It was clear – this phone wasn’t even going to notice when I politely but firmly continued to speak and make my point after it told me to be quiet! All my most positive self-talk hadn’t prepared me for this!
The first thing I did was go into the bathroom at work and have a good cry. How humiliating it was to be told to be quiet by my own phone, whose only reason for being is to take the words I speak and transmit them to others! My phone told me to be quiet in front of a room full of people. What a total lack of respect for me my phone displayed! How dare it?
But – I am resilient. By the time I left the office I had a plan. In the car I put the traitor on its stand on my windshield, just like any other day. I didn’t need it getting suspicious. I programmed Waze to get me home through the canyons, then causally reached for my phone as if to text. And I turned that f*ing phone off so HARD! It will never be mean to me again!!
When I got home I completely destroyed it. I don’t need a manipulative, controlling, non-communicative communications device! I stepped on it with my stilettos, I cooked it in a pan, I ran it through the dishwasher than flung it from the balcony to the driveway below. After that, I ran over it repeatedly with the car.
I wonder if I was too angry? Was I acting something out? Am I an angry person? No. That cannot be it. That can’t be a thing. I’m not an angry person, I’m a LADY.
So I exercised my authority. I returned that rude phone and got what better turn out to be a much more receptive one. A phone who isn’t threatened by my success. A phone who listens, and who cares what I have to say.