2004-08-14

Been reading this new book, When Food is Love. I'm trying to break my cycle of compulsive behavior and destructive, self-perpetuating patterns and learn to satisfy my emotional hunger. At least, that's what the honorable Geneen Roth promises. She better deliver, though. Or I'll eat it! I swear I will!

It being anything I see when I finish the book. I swear that these things just make you over-analyze yourself while doing what you were going to do anyhow. For the past two days, I've been trying to trace the emotional hunger that makes me finish the whole pint (half-gallon), then still want a slice (whole pizza). All of her examples in the book are people who were beaten and/or molested and/or left as children. I haven't had the pleasure, myself.

I mean, there's the whole growing up without a mom thing. But I never knew the woman and, after meeting her, I was kind of glad of it. But maybe not having had a mom is affecting me without my being aware of it. I know I have the usual raised-by-a-truckdriver problems. Like my burping without excusing myself. That slight giggle if I fart, completely giving me away. I have trouble sitting in a lady-like manner unless I'm really concentrating on it.

Maybe I have emotional scars. Maybe there's some sort of repressed childhood memory I need to uncover. Maybe this damn book is going to make me insane. Maybe I should cover it in chocolate and eat it. That would serve it right.

In other news, my Liza consistently slays them at the shows. My other stuff probably isn't as great. Everyone always talks about Liza. Next week is my last show. I'm very sad about it. It's been a year with Second City. Not sure if I'll be motivated to do anything now that I won't have to. I better not let this go to waste. I better audition for as many shows as I can up there. Best to be noticed, after all. Maybe Second City, LA, doesn't have the oomph of Secodn City Chicago. But loyalty pays off. I think, if I stick with them through as many shows as I can- not getting paid, of course, bleh- it may pay off. Some powerful alum of the place may see me and give me a shot. You never know, right?

My nephew, Kevin, and stepmom, Terry, came to last night's show. Kevin kept being prompted to cover his eyes and/or ears during certain scenes. And Terry was shocked by certain displays of man-on-man affection in the audience. And a fun time was had by all. Now if only I could get paid for this shit.

Oh, well. Give it time. Didn't Danny Devito have to wait for his forties?