Bitter Fruitless

To all my fertile friends: you and your little bundles of joy can go to hell. Seriously, can I just go one goddamn month without someone expecting or having a baby? Do you people know what a fucking tailspin it sends me into? Can't I just recover from one, without seeing another "We're preggers!" Facebook status update, another picture of a wrinkled, bloody newborn and a sweaty new mommy?

DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE ASK. Don't ask how long we've been trying, if we've been to the doctors, if we're thinking of adoption, if we're thinking of freezing eggs or implanting a surrogate or any of that shit. It doesn't fucking matter. And don't tell me what a great mom you think I'd be, because that REALLY doesn't fucking matter.

How many rationalizations have I come up with to justify my existence? I make art, not babies. I help Grandma, because I have time. I babysit so my friends can have a little grownup time, or work, or whatever. I can afford stuff. I can eat, drink, smoke, and sleep, based on my own needs and nobody else's. The truth is, though, I'm just killing time for the next fifty years.

The only purpose of a species is to propagate itself. I live every day with my failure to contribute to the continuance of the human race, particularly what I believe could have been some remarkably valuable DNA from Hans and myself. End of the line, fuckers. End of the line.

I could have had a baby, twelve or so years ago. When I found out, my first husband offered to push me down the stairs. If it had been anyone else's, I'd have kept it - but believe me, it was a life-saving measure that I don't regret.

Sometimes I think a God that doesn't exist is punishing me for that. Sometimes I think that when Hans and I got engaged, and an ultra-religious family friend asked what religion we'd raise the children, she didn't like our answer (it was "open-minded") so she somehow cursed us. And every month I still think "maybe."

All right, I didn't mean that about going to hell and taking your spawn with you. I'm friends with some wonderful, kind, intelligent people, and I'm glad you're elevating the gene pool. You have (or will have) amazing kids, and they bring a smile to my face like little else in this world.

It's just... give it a rest, you goddamn rabbits.

I finally got the Westport show pictures off my camera... then I started to write a blog, saved it as a draft, and forgot about it. Anyway, a bunch of pictures should be up in the next few days, on the troupe website, www.AnomalyOrange.com. I'm not remotely an awesome web designer, but I am a good artist who kind of knows a little Photoshop and Dreamweaver. The website, for me, is as much a learning process as the improv itself. I'm just having fun making it look pretty while it does basic functions, and when I need it to do something else, I have to figure out how.

Anyway, here's my favorite shot, in which we get ready to pose for a picture before the show. Left to right: Brandon, Clay, Jess, me, Tom, Zak, and Joe.