Jessica Baade is (not really) deceased: A comic actor gets age neutered.

I'm marking the age range "deceased."

Recently those of us in the potential over 40 category got a series of texts from a Boston casting director ordering us to update our age ranges within 5 years of our real age.  I get it. Some actors get a little zealous about trimming off the years and, as a result, there probably has been some backlash from the film production teams that keep receiving submissions wrong  for the roles to fill. And what is so wrong with being your age? Not a damned thing. Unless it blocks you from getting called in for the work you would actually book.

 I don't normally try to cover up my age. The chronological order of my life is the foundation of my act. I do not look the assigned number.  But every role that I have ever booked has been on a submission sent in for a role way more than a decade younger, usually based on a casting director's assumption of my age, not a computer's assigned category. Sure, in order to book me, the producers went older than they intended too by a smidge or at least on the high end of the age range. But, due to the weeding out process created by computerized systems that a few modern casting directors  use, I would have never been called in for those jobs based on my number of years age. And, if I change my age category, when they punch in the age groups that they traditionally go for into the computer to search for available female comedy actors, I will not surface as an option.

Dignity in my twilight years.

 I am a  quirky bleached blonde character actor in the tradition of Victoria Jackson and Georgia Engels. Both of whom in their hay day would have been called in for characters in their  30's. I also use a voice that sounds much younger than my number age which is also a bitch since our voice over stuff goes into the same data place.  They do not look for my comedy type in the over 40 set. For some reason, goofy physical female comics just can't be the numbers that be not named although even Flo from Progressive is playing for our team. And the irony is, it took me being over 40 to not care enough what other people thought to get good at it. When did people start thinking about Martha Plimpton ("Raising Hope") as primarily a comedy actor? Think about it.

I give up.  I am going to get another tattoo but this time its going to be on my arm, not on my torso hidden like the others. Its going to be of the middle finger flipping high into the air, symbolizing the demise of my present ability to get acting work.  I am also going to pierce my nose with a gold loop. And dip the ends of my bleached blond hair in deep red and black. If they want the real me, they will get the real me. The East Village one, not the motherhood joke one. And under my age I will write, "Jessica Baade is dead." Because it will be the same as me writing "45 to 50."

Sigh. Okay. I lied. I folded and changed my age range.  And I didn't write "Jessica Baade is dead." Even though  its pretty much the same thing with this one casting group. And I didn't get the nose ring because I hate potential face infections. And I will get another tattoo but probably will hide that too. Because the truth is, as much as I hate being thrown into that category, I don't want to scare the casting directors who bring me in because they actually know me and what I can do, not relied on a computer to remind them of my existence.  Its a small town. And, I may not look it, but I'm too old to be that stupid.

The Matriarch Compact: First Draft

This is a "Magna Carta For Maternal Figureheads" in progress. I intend to get this up to ten points in the treatise. Suggestions are encouraged from objective outsiders.

 Family,

I am sorry if I am a little moody as of late. It is has been a year of social, economic and emotional adjustment for all of us. In order to keep the "bitch monster" in its cage, I have divised this contract outlining a list of needs to be met and, in return, obligations to the tribal unit that I may reciprocate. Please feel free to revise this document within reason to suit yourselves and, if you feel necessary, to seek out legal consultation.

1) Everyone must say "I love you" to each member of the family (pets optional) at least once a day. I know. Ew. Icky. Emotional. But I know you do. We are family. It is a necessary emotional reinforcement to the beauty of that feeling that is integral to our blessed unit and you won't choke on your tongue if you do. It gets easier as you do it more. I promise. As the eldest member of the family you will probably out live me. If the next time someone says "I love you" in earnest it is over my grave, I will spend the rest of your life haunting you as a bitch slapping specter.

Perhaps threatening is not the way to go. Okay. Retract the last two sentences.

2) Time management will include others into consideration. This is not to say that you can't do what you want. But if you are doing it while there is, say, a four inch pile of dust under your bed or your papers from four days ago sitting on the coffee table or your wife/mother has been picking head lice  (or other job specific description) all day, a little room cleaning time or a spontaneous kiss on the neck (husband specific) will make said female not sigh loudly and look clenched for the next two hours when computer oriented entertainment is mentioned. I take time out of my "me" time to do things with you and don't look like I have a bad hemorrhoid. Reciprocation would be appreciated.

3) Debris will be removed from communal areas. All of us. Even me. But at least I am aware that I forgot to remove my snack plate until I see it sitting there in the morning. You people just keep agreeing and not doing it. See? I am crabby just saying it. So just do it. Please. It benefits us all.

This one may considered an addendum to the last one. I'll have to check with my "lawyer" aka the lady sitting next to me in Starbucks who looks smart.

4) Romance. I want some.  I know.  Weird coming from a pragmatic liberal who used to hate surprises. But its says I thought of you and wanted to do something nice. Children may replace the word "Romance" with "Updating parents on weekly school progress."

5) Apply "nice people" voices even when others are being assholes. Especially if others are being assholes. Snarky and trite begets snarky and trite. And no one likes a know it all. Or a "no" it all.

I am using this pun as a snarky and trite trap. If they fall for it, I allow myself an extra 300 calories. If not, I get peace. This is called self-applied amusement manipulation. And they wonder why I smile when they get angry.

 6) Lying is intolerable.  There is nothing worse to me than being lied to. It hurts me and I want to go sit in the dark. Trust issues that ensue from being found out are not worth the refuge of temporary deceit. So what if I don't like what you have to say? Don't be afraid of me. I am your family. There is very little that you can say that is worse to me than being betrayed by deception. And if I do catch you lying, I will disable every computer account that you possess including but not exclusively Minecraft, World of Warcraft, youporn(ask your father),Facebook and your homework information site.

A little much? I think not.

7) When mentioning all other women with the exception of your mother, grandmothers and certain sister like figures, I am to be reminded that I am the best one. This includes teachers, other parents, ex-girlfriends and hot waitresses at Hooters. Some parents are more fun than the ones that you have to live with because they don't have a cat that is your responsibility to feed or have to live with the multitude of stray socks I find strewn across the living room. You don't think I haven't noticed that your top ten face book friends are either relatives or......never mind.  Insecurity is bred, not born. You aid in the creation of my neediness, jealous huffs and extra loud dish washing.  A compliment will get you miles of smiles.

This may be unreasonable. 

8) Door slammers will have their knobs removed. Jan Brady is not a role model. Neither is Stanley Kowalski.

This, on the other hand, is perfectly reasonable.

Sigh.

I will finish this later. Oprah used to be on now and I need to take a moment of silence to fill the void.

I Love You,
Mother Of The House

Sir, We Have A Word Hostage Situation Here Or Let My L Word Go

Every time a school system cuts a budget and tosses out a class like Creative Writing over, say, Television Production I think to myself, "We are one step closer to living under crawl spaces." Words have always been as powerful, if not more powerful, as guns. No one goes around shooting people without words to start it. Well, most people anyway. And sometimes it isn't even verbalizing the words. Not using them can do the trick too, especially when done in a blatant and deliberate way. That's why the word "Love" can  mess up a mind on so many levels.

It can ruin lives. It can repair lives. Nothing is easier to feel and so hard to say. Saying it renders your underbelly exposed and rejection of these words can feel worse than death. Verbalizing love can signify forgiveness. Reciprocation after a long war of emotions can heal trust and mend wounds. Misuse with manipulation of the words can create black deep hate. Withholding it can grows an elephant in the room so large that it sticks in your throat until it can't come out anymore. Saying it too early can stop the future of a relationship with uncomfortable silence. Saying it too late can be....too late.

Someone said that men fall in love with their eyes, women with their ears. I don't know about this. Maybe initially. But I know that my male friends are as subject to the effects of hearing the words as much as my female friends.  If anything, I think they suffer more over the word "love" because often it doesn't come out as easily. If a sense of pride has been compromised and trust has been damaged before on some level, it could be a long time after the feelings actually return that you will hear that word. Because saying "I love you" is sometimes admitting that the anger is gone too, or worse, that this person has emotional power over you.

A boyfriend whom I had been dating for a few months started randomly acting like a complete jack ass. He was picking fights. He was slamming doors. He was stomping around being generally a social irritant. I couldn't figure out what I had done. Finally, I had had enough and said, "What the hell is wrong with you?" He inhaled, turned a little red and then yelled, "I think I'm in love with you! UGHH!" And then I said, " I love you too and I'm not too pleased about that either but there you have it." We didn't last forever because we were incompatible but it did go on for a couple of years and we really did love each other.

No wonder we are such a nervous society. "Love" is used in so many ways. Relationships that used to be forever are considered disposable when the love part is blackened when the inevitable downswings in the relationship force a quit....like a Macbook that has crashed....forgetting love that is buried under a pile of errors. Patience as a society is not our strong suit.

But if love is in there, it drives us anyway. We build our relationship's foundation on it. Even though "I hate you" can do so much damage,  I don't think it stings nearly as much as "I don't love you." These words may be brothers as weapons but "I hate you" slides out so much easier and can be taken back with less humiliation. "I hate you" doesn't have nearly the power as love. You can't keep the war going, you can't manipulate power by withholding "I hate you."

And you can't cause the joy and make life feel worth living the same way that the word "love" does either.

Forgiving The Eggshells

There are few things worse than living in a battle zone that won't admit that it is a battle zone. It's like trying to figure out how a cold wind blows. It surrounds you, makes you feel bad but you can't pin point how it is hurting you. It is uncomfortable and spins into more resentment. It is the price of bad communication via anger that is buried in denial.


Many of us will recognize festering anger immediately if it is right after a bad fight. Everything is fine. But is it? That fight was really recent. The knife wounds have barely started scabbing up yet. You know that you are speaking civilly but all of the voices are rerunning inside your head in the very very back. The resolutions may be there but the safety that was rattled in the relationship is not solid again. No one is trusting the other. Yet. Until you are sure it isn't going to bite you in the ass. It is even harder if there has been no fight that you know of and you still have to live with the anger.


Sometimes, some people say that they are fine but their actions are permeated with resentment. You can feel the anger if it is directed at you but the person won't concede to being mad. They smile without their eyes matching the mouth but the body never completely relaxes. The hand is in a balled fist. They flinch when they are touched.


It takes a whole lot of denial to maintain the anger. Trying to live with it that can be maintained for a while. Sooner or later, though, something has to give. Or the walls become so completely solid that uncomfortable becomes normal.  I guess it depends on the stubborn elements of the other parties involved.


How long can it last? Years? Whole life times?  I guess it depends on the person that is the begrudged that won't be openly begrudged and the quality of life the subjects at hand are willing to live with.


In my experience, a non-friendship based roommate situation tends to get resolved the fastest because you are essentially strangers other wise. It comes to a head fairly quickly if it is going to come to a head at all.  Someone gets kicked out or you learn to live with it.  Long as the bathroom stays clean and the bills gets paid and you don't have to sleep in the same room, oh well if they can't communicate well. Moving is inconvenient but you still can if it really stinks. If you can't avoid walking on egg shells, step on them. Too bad if the roommate has bad communication skills. Not your problem if you can deal with a grumpy demeanor. 


Friends who hold quiet grudges are stickier because the urge to cut and run is often bigger than the bullshit that you have to get through to admit there is a problem. Pick a fight? Confrontation? You might be willing to let it go but you may not even know what needs to be dropped. They smile tightly and say in a distant tense voice, "Wrong? No. Nothings wrong." And you know they are lying. You can feel it. It isn't your imagination. One of the beauties of a truly good friendship is that you have probably had moments like this before. You lived. And if there isn't a way to reconcile the friendship to a place you both feel comfortable with each other, maybe you just aren't friends anymore. 

For me, relatives are the least complicated because it takes a whole lot to get rid of a relative.  It is safe to approach the angry person and say, "Hey, you are obviously pissed off. What's wrong with you?" Openly. Without fear. I know I am going to spend the rest of my life with them so it is better to call them to the mat via kindness, bluntness or sarcasm and get it over with. I grew up with these people. Our communication styles are the same. We know how to speak to each other because we sound similar. Hopefully, no one is looking for a fight under it all, but if they are, at least I am going to get a solution.

Spouses, life partners, live-in significant others are the ones that really suck. Really really suck. Because anger usually has some kind of trust issue attached to it. It smells like hurt and you caused it somehow. This is a person you chose to take into your life and the person chose to have you in theirs. In an extreme situation, they  can un-choose. You can lose someone who is so attached to your heart, ego and mental well being that if there is a wall of anger that they won't speak about, you may be a hesitant to find out just what is going on in there. You may have come too  close to being a statistical example of the American standard of long term relationship failure already (see US divorce rates) and will do anything to keep the good that has been re-builit. 


It is almost easier to have an "incident" so that there is something to attach the behavior to. Plain old just angry hanging in the air is like living in cloud of sulfur and you feel like your choice is risk the good or  slap on a gas mask and live with it. Sometimes it is residual from an old pain. Sometimes it is from the pile of resentments that has been stacking up, a feeling of lack of respect. Sometimes it is a result of an inability to communicate properly in general, learned long ago and not realized till now. You can go to therapy. You can try to point out the obvious but the denial may be too strong and just anger them further. It may be better to let it pass, rebuild the basis of trust in the relationship. Let them be. It's all a crap shoot.


In the meantime, you are punished. You may deserve it. It's hard to tell since you aren't exactly sure about the specifics. Either way, its a lot easier to ignore the pain of the other person when you are on the controlling side  because it means you have to lose the power the anger gives you and forgive, let it go. Most of us hold a grudge at some point unless, possibly, you have excellent communication skills and are schooled in self-analysis. I try to recognize it in me so that I don't have to be in unnecessary pain nor do I cause it. It doesn't always work because sometimes I don't even know I am angry till the writing is on the wall. And I may not be able to get rid of the cause of irritation, but I can chose to be happier in general and let it go when I do recognize it, if I can't. Forgive. Move on. Anger and hate are so close to each other and they both fester. Life can be so much better.

Hide The Women And Children! The Hormones Have Crashed The Castle Walls!!!!

Our household has been declared a drama free zone more or less since the husband and I decided to reconcile the marriage and family unit. It is much better. We choose our words more carefully, consider the effect of them on others, try to consider how it feels in the other person's shoes. Which makes a hormone imbalance akin to a pipe bomb in a glass store.

In a good frothy tither, I have my husband  accused falsely of not wanting to admit he is married on Facebook so he can replace me with a younger woman leaving me no choice but to divorce him and marry my last hope for security, an aging road hack who won't shut up about his time on Carson because who else would want me. It evolves into the husband not worrying about anything but himself himself himself because I am utterly unloveable, punishable for eternity for my past sins. I am old. Fat. Lopsided. There is a monologue of woe is me that makes my inner voice sound like it is locked in a Turkish prison. I am convinced that I am ugly and cling to my poor spouse for approval like a barnacle in heat.  I pray that someone flirts with me to give me my self worth back. I just know I am going to leave this earth in poverty, shrouded in failure as a comic, writer, actor and lice killer. And seriously not funny. And I need to eat a cake. I wish that I could disappear. Only the gym can save others from my skewed logic because I know I can be calmed down using self-abuse aka the tread mill. And if I can't get to the gym....I shall.....die.

To be fair to myself,  I ain't the only ball of chemicals in this apartment. In fact, not too many days ago I was sitting in a stew of  nicotine withdrawal and moody tween that I could only defend myself from by curling up in the fetal position under the covers and pray that no one found the lump until the stench of emotions passed back into the gate of sanity. But I don't get points for my tolerance transferable to my weepy depressed moments, nor should I. Although I want to really really hard. It would be so much easier to feel like a victim, my go-to mood when there is too much of some hormone thing floating around in my brain.

The good thing about being this slightly less elastic age, is that I recognize the patterns. I still recall the first time I put two and two together, recognized that the onslaught of irrational anger and my body were tied together. I was working in a restaurant in NYC probably agitated already but not to the degree that warranted this feeling.  I was fighting an urge not to throw something at another waiter. He just PISSED ME OFF. And I was thinking "Why the hell don't you all just LEAVE ME ALONE" which is generally not an option when working in the service industry. And, of course, "NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ME!"  And something in the the middle of my mental rant clicked. "Oh," I thought, "I'm in a mooooodddd." And it made it so much easier. This wasn't me. It was my body chemistry. I acknowledged my erratic mental state and asked people to keep their distance as much as it was possible until the path cleared. Then I went about my business, quietly bitching the whole time when my back was turned to anyone in my path staff or customer, praying that it wasn't entirely a waste of time  being there by killing the tip opportunities with my foul angst.

Truth is, those hormone mood swings are nothing next to a really severe imbalance. I used to have a lesion in my temporal lobe and, post-surgery after it was removed, the parts in my head were so damaged that my husband was a little afraid to sleep next to me for fear of  not making it through the night in tact. That was a different kind of insane. The monologue of logic that usually accompanied pms or too much testosterone was drowned out by red anger. I wasn't just pissed off. I was FURIOUS. There was still just enough of me going on to relinquish to the tiredness that accompanied it. Thank God. Eventually, my head healed but, at the time, it...and I ....was scary as hell. I hated everything and wanted relief by releasing the anger. No matter what was in my path. At that moment, I was bat shit crazy. I guess in retrospect, he earned a little nicotine withdrawal pissy-ness. At least he didn't threaten to stab me in my sleep.

Bodies do these things when they change.  They adjust to different elements introduced into their make up, evening out the literal imbalance induced. We are machines as much as we are personalities.  We have fluids that need balance, parts that need tune ups and electricity running the synapsis in our heads that occasionally blow sparks. Its easy to forget that when we deal with another human being. Sometimes, our parts just ain't running well. We forgive the car for needing an oil change. I will try to remember to give the cranky 50-ish lady who is flop sweating in the check out line at T.J.Maxx the same courtesy.

Image via MDanys/Flickr at http://www.flickr.com/photos/mindaugasdanys/

The Terminator

I don't tell people what my new line of work is very often. It takes a special kind of personality to be comfortable with it. The risk of the job over plays the practicality of income to them. The more I know and train, the safer I feel but some minds just can't wrap their brains around it. There are two types of people in my life now. The ones who get it, understands that this is an answer to the question of poverty that rules our world right now and see the necessity of the job in our society. And then ones that I don't tell because they won't let me in their house again if they knew.

I cannot tell you how much I love my new job, regardless of how others may feel about it. My need to hunt on a very very small scale is ingrained into my personality. I love to  seek out, observe and discover. Years as a stand up comic has given me the training to navigate extreme situations, defuse high emotions.  I hate defeat and am just obsessive enough to make sure that this does not happen. No one will get out alive on my watch. I know that I won't be able to sleep unless I make absolutely sure that I will not have to come back and rectify an error of sloppiness. My boss is a kind person and I do not wish to bring shame on her company.

It has to be done. Many try to handle it themselves. I am not inexpensive because I have the tools to be more thorough than the usual methods which are slowly becoming less effective. My eye is trained to see the issue at hand faster than most and I know how to assess the situation and eradicate the culprits in the most effective way.

I do not leave a mess for them to handle later, after the trauma has past. I will help them so that you will not be taken advantage of a second time by the same family of badness. I see the enemy and respect them for what they are. My job is left at my job. No traces come back with me because I understand the adversary  and know how to keep them from coming home with me. But usually it is better to let people wonder what that big bag is for, why that lady is carrying an unmarked suitcase to the neighbor's house. Because a lot of times they just don't understand that this is a good job, a clean job. I know what I am doing.

I stop family's from suffering. I remove adversity from the world. I do what chemicals are failing to maintain as they become stronger and gain immunity. I am a Lice Terminator.

Not a lice public transit system. Please still let me into your house.

The Marital Compliment

"Where the hell is my sock? She always puts them in the same place and there is not sock here. Hey! Oh. There she is. Wow. Her ass looks great like that...."

There it is! Grab it! Not the ass. The compliment. Grab it in your head and let it fall out of your mouth before it sinks into the abyss of your head, covered with bitching about your socks. It will do you far more good being verbalized than flitting away with the thousands of other positive things that could have made your life better. And hers.

My husband and I were discussing why I was being so cold last night. Our communication skills have taken a turn for the better in the last couple of months but there is a strangeness in our relationship too. We don't know where it is safe to tread. At one point I said that I didn't feel like I heard good things about myself. He said he said plenty of nice things. Like "thank you." He always says "thank you." Which is true and I appreciate it. But it ain't the same as "I like the way you smell."

I think I am not alone when I say that I probably created a safety issue. I am sure there have plenty of times that he has tried to say something nice or grab at something and I either asked what the ulterior motive was or brushed it off. There seems to be a rash of long marrieds around me with anger issues and mistrust. Its taken me a good scare in the relationship to admit that I don't care what the motive is. I want that pleasant thought that flows from his brain to exit safely from his mouth and, frankly, I don't give a shit what the motive is. I'm really sorry that I made you feel bad for thinking something nice, even if perhaps it was a little raunchy. Raunchy is okay if you have been together for 13 years and way better than silence.

Life in a domestic situation can be so complicated, especially with kids. There are layers of needs in a partnership. We need to figure out expenses. We need to get groceries and figure out what would be good for dinner that will satisfy everyone. We need to cover childcare for work conflicts. We need time alone. We are in this life together and it can be draining. It is easy to resent each other and shut down. The compliments get buried under the five hundred other things in our head and we don't always feel safe to express ourselves.

I get plenty of compliments about my physicality in the outside world. A lot of times they are a little creepy or, at their best, they don't mean nearly as much as a good thought from the person that I spend so much time surviving in this life next to. The person who has seen me sick, pregnant, full of self loathing, bent up in unseemly positions, in a bikini with an extra twenty pounds on me and vomiting. There is not another human being on earth that "Your eyes are pretty" means more from because he knows the truth of what I can be on a very bad day when they are red and swollen.

A good thought towards another person is a gift that is wasted locked away. I think it is always worth the risk to put it forth and it is a shame that so many of us take it for granted until it becomes something that causes resentment. On the other hand, chances are that at times there was a motive attached to the compliment otherwise we may not feel that way. But so what. Take those kind words. Say them anyway.  You know that they are coming from a genuine place in the thought process and if you do it often enough without a reason, maybe your partner will learn to just appreciate the gift. It's always so easy to do in the beginning without the history of life to complicate it but I think I value the kind thought from my partner even more that I know that. It is so easy to do in a new relationship but it means so much more when a person knows you so well that they could easily forget to tell you the good things.

And P.S. Yeah. It works both ways.  Don't I know it!