Tipping the Scale

(Me and my classmate Iceman performing at Drunken Shakespeare last week.)

After much research, I reworked my American résumé into a more British-looking CV. Then I sent it off to a friend of Phil's who is some sort of headhunter for advice on how to make it better. And what she sent me back were basically instructions on how to turn this CV into something that was nearly identical to the résumé that I had initially. (Is that irony? I'm always so afraid of using -- or, really, misusing -- that word... It's a combination of funny and frustrating, I suppose.)

But there are bits of progress on this road.

- I had a job interview that would give me a three-month, part-time internship. It seemed to go well. It's exactly the sort of thing that I'm qualified for, thanks to my years in Chicago doing database work at a desk. *fingers crossed*

- A really, really awesome internship position opened up at an acting agency. I wouldn't be acting, of course, but I've heard it's a good idea for actors to intern at agencies, to try to learn the ins and outs of a different side of the business. There are only two spots, and I'm guessing it's going to be super competitive... But if I got it, it would be perfection.

- Mom seems to have gotten some positive news regarding the Italian citizenship whatnot. We're still a long ways off from anything actually happening, but this is a start.


So maybe I'm getting closer.

Long distance relationships are, as one might imagine, fraught with difficulties. They are a breeding ground for anxiety. They eat large chunks of time out of your day, during which you sit around waiting and waiting for a Skype call that could come at any time within a vague three-hour span. They force you to sacrifice attending social events with real live people whom you could actually touch if you so chose. They plant seeds of doubt in your mind, making you question over and over again whether this complicated relationship -- and all of the turmoil, work, stress, loneliness, and heartache it brings you -- is worth it. And if you're doing it right, you have to believe with every part of your being that it is.

Each passing day brings with it the painful knowledge of a longer separation, making it harder to recall what the other person smells like, or how it feels when they touch your face. But the passing days also bring with them the knowledge that you are one day closer to being reunited (which doesn't provide a great deal of comfort, truth be told, but you have to gather strength wherever and whenever you can).

I don't know why I've had so many long distance relationships in my life. Just unlucky, I guess. Or maybe so foolhardy that I think it's best to date whomever I want to date, regardless of how separated our present locales may be. Of course, in the past, there has always come a day when the cons of the relationship have outweighed the pros.

I won't lie: the con side of the scale is very heavy at the moment.

(*whiny teen moment* This is really, really hard, you guys.)

But it doesn't matter. I can't imagine not being with him. So those cons, as heavy as they may be, are irrelevant. They are given circumstances, and I accept them.

I will find a way to get to London. I will tip the scale, emptying the con tray in one motion. I will.


May you know how to tip the scale in your own favor.

~A~

Stress and Stomachaches

Warning: this is a post in which I talk about medical issues. Don't read if that bothers you.



I've been getting weird stomachaches since I was in fifth grade. Intense pain that made me double-over and made it hard to walk. They always seemed to be stress-related (although really, how much stress can a fifth-grader be under?) They were sporadic for most of my life.

In my senior year of undergrad, they became more frequent. I went to a doctor. I had a scope done. He told me I had an over-production of acid in my stomach, and prescribed medication. It seemed strange to have to take medication daily for pain that struck mysteriously, so I stopped taking it not long after I started.

Then, nearly two years ago, I started getting a different kind of stomachache. A different part of my abdomen. Also potentially stress related. Also with such intense pain that I double-over, unable to walk. Sometimes the pain gets so bad that I can't speak. Or think. Every ounce of energy I have becomes focused into managing that pain.

I spent 9 days straight in bed that summer, taking 800 milligrams of ibuprofen and praying it would stop. But even when I wasn't in pain, I was so weak from trying to manage the pain that it didn't make sense to get out of bed. I went to a few different doctors. I had blood work done multiple times. And a cat scan. And an ultrasound. One by one, each hypothesis was ruled out.

The best guess my doctor could take was something about having spasms. He gave me anti-spasm medication and told me that I'd have to take them when I had the pain, and if they worked, then we'd know what it was.

But then -- mysteriously -- the stomachaches disappeared, just as quickly as they had arrived.

I don't know when they're going to strike. Sometimes, I go for months without getting one. Or I get one relatively mild one in an isolated incident, and then nothing. I take the anti-spasm meds, but I honestly don't think they do anything. Sometimes the pain goes away, but usually it doesn't.

In September, I started getting them daily. But then they stopped again.

And about a week and a half ago, I started getting them again. During a dress rehearsal for the show I just opened, I had to take off part of my costume because it was putting more weight on my abdomen and causing me a lot of pain. A few days ago, I had to tell my stage manager during a matinee that the pain was unbearable, and there was a chance I might have to miss the evening performance... but then the pain vanished, and I was fine the rest of the night. Go figure.

I'm in bed now. I have been for most of the day. The pain comes in spurts. But I feel too weak to bother doing anything. (And, unfortunately, I chose to give up blog-reading this week for Lent, so I can't even catch up on my Google Reader.)

I don't know if it's stress-related or not. I have stress in my life right now, but there have been plenty of times when I've had stress and no pain.

Maybe it's the stress of trying to get to London. It's not a hopeless situation, but it's a frustrating one.

Or the stress of Showcase, which is a month from today in New York City.

Or the stress of being in two shows while understudying three other roles.

Or the stress of being in a long-distance relationship.

I don't know what it is.

But I want the pain to go away. And stay gone.

I don't even see the point of going to a doctor any more. I'd have to have the doctors in Connecticut send records to the doctors in Florida, which would involve me doing some faxing and mailing of request forms and the like. It would just add to the stress. And I wouldn't even know what sort of doctor to go to. So far, my mysterious maladies have stumped a general practitioner, two gynecologists, and two gastroenterologists.

I'd better stop writing. I'm giving myself a headache. And that's really the last thing I need at this moment.


May your pains disappear... and not reappear.

~A~