Education of a forgotten soul

Today I need to briefly mention again that written English is not the first language of the deaf, sign language is. 
I can understand some of the confusion as I was quite confused up until five years ago. 
I, by no means, can  begin to comprehend what it must feel like to be born full deaf, so I therefore  lack expertise on these matters, but, I do know that my deaf friends struggle with the construction of written sentence. Reading is also challenging for them since, as far as I know, there aren't any book written in ASL.
 ASL does not transfer over to English, plain and simple. 
The language of the deaf is quite effective all on it's own. Think of the way many of you make use of the middle finger. It gets the message across quite clearly in one simple gesture!

 
 Many of you have asked since I did not begin to lose my hearing until ten why would I struggle with written language?
          
         Timing and location, location, location! 

What do I mean by that? Well, as many of you know, I was adopted, so, there was little indication to prepare for such a thing. 
Although, I was born in Hollywood and raised in surrounding areas, I lived ten years in a celebrity destination point about two hours outside of Los Angeles, California.  The rural school districts at that time, and even most now, are not equipped to handle hearing impaired students. When I begin to show signs of struggle, mainly from not being able to comprehend or process information, I was put in many "one size fits all" special education classrooms with  teachers who just did not have that kind of time for me and were probably unaware that it was my hearing causing the problems. 
I am sure if my parents had picked up on this earlier I would have been sent to a deaf school in the big city to learn ASL. 

I am what I like to call an in-betweener, and no, not the British sitcom, or a teenage subgroup, but, rather I am neither full deaf, nor am I able to function effectively as a hearing person. I often carry a notepad with me everywhere I go because, although of the ADA ( American Disability Act) my rights are protected, I am often frowned upon in most establishments since an interpreter can't just be called in. Believe me, I am just as exasperated as they are! 
So, why don't I learn sign language? Well, I have been, but, one must keep in mind that the full deaf have been taught sign and deaf culture straight out of the womb! It takes years to become quite efficient and even then it does not cover all of the different regions and the "street language". 
Do I read lips? Well, yes and no, It is an art not a science~ha! 

And, lip reading is exhausting! 
Most people who meet me in a close up and personal, one -on- one situation, are unaware even of any impairment, but, a crowded room can have me spinning in circles! 

More soon!

What would you think if I sang out of tune, would you stand up and walk out on me?

             

Oh, the injustice! There are people out there needling me because I want to, at last, take singing lessons. 
Okay, okay, to be fair, it does seem a bit implausible ~ a deaf person singing?! Crikey, what was I thinking?!

It's true, I abhor social gatherings, crowds, bars, and comedy clubs. 
I make a complete eejit out of myself in most venues, especially since my eyesight is failing me as well! I often go places and attempt to disguise myself as poorly applied wallpaper or hide under the coffee table with the dog. I have learned over the years, that if I remain motionless long enough I actually become a vegetable platter.
But, it wasn't always that way for me. Up until the age of ten, I had hearing within normal range. I was spunky and bold and made my first movie on an old Minolta auto-pak 8 D-6 super 8 silent movie camera, using the camp rat pack for actors. 

 Campfire time meant live theater and often I would use that same troupe for singing skits and The Beatles tribute band.  
It was like breathing fresh air every time I went out. 

To the dismay of my adopted family, Lord , love a singing parrot, I would not shut up! Ha! I copied every sound I heard, imitating everything from a kitten to a whistling teapot. 
No one understood why. 
Genetic memory could be the valid scientific explanation.
 As a child I had a tiny innate access to the vast syntax and rules of music and language despite the increasing disability that took hold of me by the time I was a teenager.
 After much research, I found that my birth family's history is rich in musical talent. My grandfather was a big band leader, my uncle a fiddle player in Texas, my father a  lyricist and current resident of the famous alien crash site, Roswell. 
I have only met one of them, my father, Douglas, who is also a character actor in his spare time. He is also deaf. 

I have since learned, after a long awaited trip to explore my family history, that I have two brothers and a sister who suffer from the same genetic disorder of early onset, nerve damage, hearing loss.

As far as I know though, I am the only one who attempts to sing.
 Many are thankful for that. One is bad enough.
   
Thanks for stopping by!!

        
               

A director's dream comes true!

             

       
                          Yahoooooozi! This just in! 
 Just a short post here to introduce something heading your way! A crowd funding success story!
 Yes, I know I sound like a teenager, but, I love what I do and this crew is a fun bunch! Ha!
The up -and- coming, Indie, Sci-Fi,  I have a tiny, tiny, part of helping produce is now 85% complete! Things are getting exciting for cast and crew!     Director, Simon Cox is living the dream finally!

After being held hostage for many years by storm troopers, Simon, much to the our relief, was released to make his movie,                                                 " Kaleidoscope Man!" 
       

If you find you have a moment it would mean so much to Simon and I, if you could stop by and take a gander at the website!
http://www.kaleidoscopeman.com/2015/07/16/phase-6-our-biggest-shoot-yet/#commentForm5984416662

The fabulous John and Rebecca in one of our old campaign posters. Photo by the equally fabulous Ian Dangerfield! 

                         John and Ian hard at work

                         The wonderful Vince Mack in a pod!

Co-Producer, Mark Robbins and Simon Cox battling it out! Ha!

For more fun photos and updates please join in at our Facebook and Twitter page as well!
https://twitter.com/_k_man_movie  https://www.facebook.com/KaleidoscopeMan?fref=photo

https://www.facebook.com/KaleidoscopeMan/videos/vb.425107637515295/3281189863481/?type=2&theater  TRAILER!

The unfinished desire

The silent pages of my most discreet, tender, and ignominious  thoughts have now become a commerce of exchange and mockery.
My mind flows with the same amount of traffic in this humbling moment as it weaves in and out of tapering vision and tears.
The impression I laid down in earlier post was quickly gathered up by many and  woven into something beyond recognition. 
It was an ugly mass of twine to some and to others a divine tapestry. 

My response to this held the same ambiguous flavor to it. 
I tried to choose the latter assessment, but, my heart did not. 

It was just months ago,  that I was the faint outline of a painting waiting to be filled with substance and color. I was a novel unwritten, an inept amateur seeking a muse. 
I sought to woo, dance, and court with those who came to mingle. 
I envisioned an empty room that would be filled with lavish ornament, where only a few would turn into a lustrous glow for me to see.

I felt I had been robbed of an opportunity to seek and cultivate a desire when a sudden gust of wind blew through the embellished parlor I sat down in to rest. All I could see was the enticing image before me. 

I wasn't certain this visitant that brushed right through me was even tangible. I reached into the vacant, gelid, air, grasping at a forgotten dream, a pastime of composing love letters and song with the utmost of care. A chance to entice, tease, entangle, and harmonize. I knew though that my melody would go unheard on this apparition that glided freely through the air. It needed to breathe constant fresh air. 
I, too, reeked of staleness when I stood still.  

Months have gone by now and my movement is much more fluent.
Those lingering thoughts of desire have instead become my muse. 
Many understand how difficult it was for me to express my sentiment in recent post, while others mock my juvenile prose, unable to discern what it means to adore or be disabled. 

When the winds have died down and the fire mellows, I will still be here because the best fantasy is the reality we carve before us.

Mark Redfield, bad boy of the art world, and his latest hits!

Oh goodness me! 
Here I am lollygagging in the park again when I should be sharing the bushel and a peck of awesome art, Mark is putting out as of late!
Well, Mark always puts out.....wait, let me finish the sentence before you get your panties in a wad~ha! 
 Mark is busy, always busy, and busy in a way that makes me feel like I am on a permanent holiday. 
 So, If you enjoy your home being the center of attention,  loud gasps from your mother,  provocative, sometimes, button pushing, art, then this is the Etsy shop for you! 
I love the fact that when people walk into my living room they just stare, mouth gaping wide open, and point, " Look!" 
             

                  
Here are some sure winners to get this delightful reaction!

                                            Krampus

                   Now 50% off on this handsome fella!

                              What? Can't take a joke? 

                         Eat me! Or in my case, bite me~ha!


Or, how about some sweeter than honey on Rambutan with these?

                                Something for everyone!

     And, of course, my favorite and many of yours, Poe baby!

                                  In time for Halloween!

  So get cracking folks, get it while it's hot! Liven up those boring,       bare, white walls with a little bit of naughty and nice!
  Here is the link!
https://www.etsy.com/shop/markredfield?ref=l2-shopheader-name
   
 See you all soon!

Is there a Jim Beaver afterglow?

 Today I must hold my head up high despite the fact that a 64 year old furry face gets much better ratings than my fuzzy butt. Ha!

While being slightly annoyed by this revelation, I can't help but hop aboard the Jumble Jim express myself. 

The fans, being slightly hysterical themselves, are attached to him, like a pit bull to a bone, sinking their teeth into a "Supernatural" steak. I was only recently able to pry one loose for questioning to find out what the buzz was all about. 

Her name is Charlie and she's middle aged with two teenagers. 
She is also crazy about a very popular Japanese celebrity making it difficult for me to pin down the demographics of the main fan base. 

Although Charlie is not the kind of fan I expected, her personality encapsulates the heart of those swarming women you find at the comic conventions and on the Internet.

They are bold, eager, and bright, slightly edgy, yet feminine.

The most admirable quality about them though is their dedication. 

I asked Charlie how she felt when Jim's character, Bobby was killed off in season 7 of Supernatural. 

" I refused to believe it!" She said, as if her own father had died, " I didn't want to believe they would do such a thing." 

Many fans agreed saying that Bobby was the center of this long running TV show. He was the place that everyone came back to and it felt like home, it just felt safe.  I speculate, that without Bobby, the show has lost some of it's conscious, it's humanity. I have only seen a few episodes myself, but, Bobby struck me as having the type of lap I just wanted to curl up in and fall asleep. He was a warm comfortable spot with a few bumps that needed softening. 

 Thank Zeus, to ease the absence of Bobby Singer, the writers had his spirit lingering about for future episodes. 

The big question though, is he really dead this time?

But, that is Bobby. Jim Beaver is the man who is so much more than one character. 

" Do you think Jim is at all like Bobby?", I ask Charlie, who I know is old enough to know better. Charlie catches herself before speaking, knowing I am trying to trap her, "Well, I suppose we are all bits and pieces of things, so, sure.... I suppose some of Bobby does live in him." Charlie suddenly jumps. " Oh wait, I've talked to him!" "You have?", I asked, "What did you think?", Charlie is gushing even in text, " He's sweet.." 

Still, I don't feel my question is answered, Why Jim, I wonder? 

How does a handsome, but seemingly, ordinary looking man who is about to turn 65 next month, become a chick magnet? 

I asked Charlie once more before she had to go pick up the kids that day, " Why do you think Jim is so attractive to other women?" 

" Well, maybe because he is a single father and women want to take care of him....", she hesitates, " or maybe the other way around..." 

I understood.

I had Daddy issues, and although I am not a Spring chicken myself, I liked the idea of having an older man around. 

Jim is rock solid with his dedication to his talented, 13 year old daughter though, and that just makes the fans adore him all the more.

He is like the anchor in a stormy sea, an ocean of love.

  I am becoming less and less immune to his charms. The charm that  is Jim, mysterious and unwavering. 

 I try to pretend he is just one, of many, many, actors I have known in my 39 years of public (boot licking) relations, but, he is not. 

He pushes every button on me, above and below, the belt.

He makes me feel like an Idjit for waiting outside of Theatre West for six days for an unscheduled interview. 

He makes me realize how little I know, inside and outside of the business. He gives me a target to reach for. 

He makes me want to be a better woman.

In my dreams I am.

by the way, he is a frequent visitor in my sleep these days, but, what goes on between the sheets is just between Jim and I.

Get your own Bobby doll. Ha!

MENOPAUSE MOMENTS

                             MENOPAUSE MAMA!

I just count the bodies!

 
    It is time for me, to once again, write in my blog, and it is vital for me to do it NOW because in two minutes I will forget what....... OH FECK, it happened again! 

In the last month, I have been lucky to even remember to change my underwear daily or feed the dog.
What is happening to me?! 

                          

 Why is my hair suddenly being mistaken for hay, my vaginal area for the impassable Sahara Desert, and my belly for a five month pregnancy?
 Good Golly Miss Molly, I am becoming Psycho Witch for almost slugging a thirty-something for asking if my fibroid was a boy or a girl! I told her it was an "it" and asked her to kindly feck off. 
I realize with my ADD, GAD, PMS, IBS, CFS, FS, and PTSD I wasn't sane to begin with, but, now with my all day pass to hemorrhoid hill, I am BFH!  

So long, farewell, curves, and being able to fit into a motel bathtub.
  

Adios, Hasta La Vista, to perky boobs, tiny tummy, smooth skin and toenails that aren't yellow.
                   

I have decided to hide behind an avatar and go by the name of "Boobsie Buttercup" and pray that no one wants to actually meet me!