#23 - Tarot Isn't Fortune-Telling

What do I even do with this reading I pulled for the year ahead?

First of all, there are too many swords, too close together. Almost every card that has a positive connotation is reversed or paired with some portent of emotional harm or confusion. Smack dab in the middle lies the Queen of Wands, seemingly drawn out of pity, slow-clapping in my face and reminding me I am SO BRAVE for facing such hardships. All connected by the Chariot as the guiding card, a big shrug of the shoulders encouraging a head-down, face-forward approach to all this other bullshit.

Tarot isn’t fortune-telling. The Ten of Swords isn’t literally telling me that my January is going to be exhausting due to sudden but inevitable betrayal. But it is planting that thought in my mind as something to prepare for. Same with burnout, and overspending, and grief.

Are my chickens finally coming home to roost?

I’m back at it this winter in my second melodrama at the Pocket Sandwich Theatre! This time around I’ll be playing Jane in the slasher send-up “Camp Death”, one of a pair of hapless lovers who just want a quiet place to make out in peace. Check this space for tickets - it’s going to be a spooky, campy good time.

Recent Gigs

Since my last update, I have provided additional voices for the following projects:

• Demon Lord 2099: Episode 7

I also had the privilege of playing young farm boy Clark in the second episode of Sumo Chicken, created by the incredible Leslie and Laurie Collins and produced by Silver Sound Studios! This short podcast is a delight for listeners of all ages - check it out on Spotify!

Consume!

If like me you know Kate Beaton as the lady who draws derpy ponies and overdramatic historical figures, “Ducks” will be a wild ride for you. A deeply relatable tale of a woman striving for self-sufficiency in a world that seems to thwart those efforts by design, Beaton details her time in Eastern Canada’s oil fields with painstaking detail, showcasing daily drudgery alongside harassment so common it nearly becomes mundane and a constant struggle to retain her sense of empathy and her artist’s mind. A wonky bildungsroman that should be required reading for the friends and family of growing creatives.

Performance of the Week

Back in 2021, when Marisa Duran was cast as the lead in the highly-anticipated romcom “Horimiya,” I was elated. It is so rare for an alto-range performer to even be considered to portray a teen girl in the anime industry - I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that Duran’s performance as Kyouko Hori has influenced a shifting trend towards more grounded, realistic casting for female roles.

I finally went back and watched all of “Horimiya,” and was in tears by the end. Throughout Hori’s closing monologue in the show’s second season, Duran’s delivery contains a delicately passionate undercurrent - you can hear how much saying goodbye to this role means to them, and how they harness that bittersweet joy to convey Hori’s anticipation of the next stages of her life. It’s present, it’s stirring, it’s like nothing I’ve heard before in a shoujo anime dub.

One More Thing

Objectively, I’m doing well.

Last year I made a cheeky set of “in” and “out” lists for the new year in lieu of resolutions. I hit the mark pretty closely, but there’s one entry I feel like I haven’t quite nailed down how to achieve yet.

“A creative practice rooted in self-care and self-expression”.

Practice implies regularity. I can’t say I’ve worked on anything regularly in 2024, but I can say I’ve been regularly working. Every day I feel busy, and still can’t connect any of that activity with self-nourishment or a concrete objective aside from to Be Known. That’s a problem.

I find myself meeting new people I enjoy and spend time with, and yet yearning for community and closeness. That’s a problem.

I recognize and accept my body and yet have begun experiencing twinges of shame about my age, my weight, my presentation. That’s a problem.

I am positioned for a breakthrough in the goal I’ve had since I was small and yet feel like I’m feeling around for cracks in a steel-girded wall instead of proudly refining my craft. That’s a problem.

Objectively, I’m closer to everything I’ve ever wanted than I’ve ever been. And yet my world feels narrow and molded by a desire to bob to the surface instead of a knowledge of how to swim.

After 30 years I have learned how to survive. Now the task is to transform, to accept what I’ve been avoiding, and to find a way to penetrate the fog.

And maybe use fewer metaphors while I’m at it.