#That part with the narrator is what I've ment

[rippleberries]

Your Weyounsday treat: One of the first articles about Jeffrey Combs published.

Arizona Daily Star Sun [Tucson, AZ], 29 April, 1979, pp. 1, 4

Did they have to give the article that title? (ಥ﹏ಥ)

[BEGIN ARTICLE TRANSCRIPT]

The Arizona Daily Star TUCSON, SUNDAY, APRIL 29, 1979 Sunday Loneliness comes with actor's role

At 24 and looking as if he still drips with innocence, young is a word that can be freely used to describe Jeffrey Combs. He is young, looks young, and is in the young years of his professional life.

Also, he had an early and, given his calling, perhaps prophetic brush with a person of that name.

"My parents had a car accident when I was about a year old and we had to go into a hospital," explained Combs over lunch. "Loretta Young was in the same hospi- tal and had requested that a nurse bring a baby to her every morning to hold. So, while I was there, a nurse would come to my mother in the morning to take me up to her room and Young would feed me."

Youthful naiveté is what Combs' character in the Arizona Theatre Company production of "The Show-Off" is all about. In the play, which has its last performance tonight at 7 in the Tucson Community Center Little Theatre, Combs plays the youngest son of the family, a con- stantly preoccupied fellow who trips over his tongue and shoelaces and brings home the bacon with a formula.

This has been Combs' first season with ATC and he says "The Show-Off" has been his favorite play. Tucson audiences have also seen him as the narrator/nephew in "A Christmas Carol," as Valere in "Tartuffe" and as Diego in "The Royal Hunt of the Sun." But it's the current George Kelly comedy that places as the favorite, partially because it feels so familiar.

"The whole feeling of the show is so human, so close in a way to my own life that I didn't have to reach that far to get the feeling." Combs, the fifth of seven children, knows what a tightknit family is like.

"My own family ties are very, very close and I miss the times of being together with them. It's hard to be in such a nomadic kind of work I always want to see them.

"At times, being an actor can be one of the most rewarding things in the world. And at other times it can be very lonely."

Combs is the youngest member of the ATC resident company and he has experienced both the rewards and the loneliness this season. He says that it's part and parcel of the career he's chosen, and that it will be tempered as he grows older and gets more professional experience in the process. But he's impatient and knows it.

"One of the disadvantages of working in Tucson is the isolation. The sheer locale of the city being geographically where it is.

"I am an impatient person. There are people that I love, to whom I've had to say 'see you later.' They ask 'why?' and I have to say I'm going to Tucson to this theater. And that I might not be the same person when I get back, just as they might not be the same."

But, Combs says philosophically, the phases of life are like that. And he knows that he has been free in making the choices, even though they still hurt at times.

"There was no question in my mind whether I wanted to come here or not - certainly I felt the sacrifices were worth it. And I would like to come back here next year."

But he would also like to have the chance to experi- ment with his own ideas, collaborating with others in improvisational structures, using his own material to cre- ate worlds, rather than someone else's.

"The chances to do those things would be the only reservations I would have about coming back. It's not that I wouldn't want to-Sandy (Rosenthal) is one of the most energetic spirits of the theater. He loves it more than anybody I've ever seen. But I have this itching and my focuses and desires may go in a direction that might not be appropriate here."

Combs says that the idea of an ensemble resident company is not new to him; in some ways, it's the system he knows best from his work with the Pacific Conservatory Theatre of the Performing Arts and the Old Globe Theatre.

"I've pretty much been nurtured, pushed in the en- semble direction all along. I haven't really gone out and jobbed into a company for a short period of time, or been put in the position that the prime directive is to 'get the show up by 8 p.m. Tuesday." But he's found that he's grown in the season he's spent with ATC.

"I've synthesized some of the things I've learned relearned them through experience. I feel really relaxed in this company. Not in the sense that I'm so confident that what I'm doing is good, so I can relax, but in the sense that I can make a mistake and not feel like I've really let someone down. I can learn from the situation.

"And I've learned a sense of what the professional world is like, what the good side is like. Take someone like Bob Ellenstein. He doesn't have to be here - the only reason he is is that he's dedicated, that the experiences here will make him a better actor. He could just as easily be making 15 times more money somewhere else, doing things that were not as enriching to him."

Combs says he is unhappy with a portion of his abili- ties, particularily when he senses he's acting out of techni- cal proficiency rather than a more emotionally-based ground. There needs to be a balance, and he says that his season with ATC has given him the opportunity to work on that weakness.

And he says he waivers between the acting world and his own desires for domesticity. On the other hand, he's exactly where he wants to be.

"I love what I'm doing. The commitment is so drastic that it can be frightening, at times. The more renown you get, the more value placed upon you as an artist, the more freedom you have and the more choices you can make. But, being a young actor, you can't have all those freedoms yet.

"One needs to have some sort of perspective from other things. It's just that I want so badly to be in this business and to do the things I want to do. Maybe it's an obnoxious thing for someone only 24 years old to say, but I don't want to be a victim. I'd rather be the perpetrator, if you will." [END ARTICLE TRANSCRIPT]

[BEGIN PHOTO CAPTION TRANSCRIPT] Combs says that he has felt lonely at times this season, away from his family, friends and home base in California. At the same time, this year has been one of growth with the sort of challenges any actor needs, particularily in the formative, initial years of a professional career.

Now finishing his first sea- son with the Arizona Theatre Company, Jeffrey Combs hopes that it won't be his last. But the 24-year-old actor also wants to scratch the itch he has to do some of his own work in a collaborative, improvisational situation.

Photo by Tim Fuller [END PHOTO CAPTION TRANSCRIPT]

[unspokenfeelings6]

How do I stop myself from loving You??

The earth is 4.53 billion years old. Too many people, too many generations, too many stories. Stories that had love, stories that had hate, stories that had friends and stories that had enemies.

And here is mine i narrate to you, knowing how you wouldn't know it was for you!!!

There was a Brunette who wanted to feel what is love, and yeah she did. She was beautiful she was kind, she probably gave everyone butterflies. She was known to everyone but never involved. Her smile used to be the best on that even the moon was shy to shine but little did everyone knew what her smile ment.

She didn't ask much, just someone who could accept her just the way she was, just like those inked men she's read in love stories.

But you know what's the worst part? She was forbidden. She loved a man and she couldn't even call him her's.

{Why? It was easy to ask, never to answer}Everything she wished for stood in front of her one day!!

She was claimed by someone else, to which she also believed it was true love. She gave her everything to this part of her she thought was her 'Mr.Perfect'.

{Was her Mr. Perfect really perfect?}She used to think until her fictional interest walked out of her books but yet again she realised she couldn't claim him hers because she was already someone else's!!

Now all she can do is, look at him from a distance, long to be in his arms and kiss him till sleep takes over them forever. Again, the universe had to come in between them right? Her dreams just had to remain dreams. After all his smile was her Pain And Pill.

' I've already lost my heart to you, now will i ever stop loving you? '

Is saying ' I love you ' too tough when there are tons of love, kilos of trust, grams of fear?

Dear Lord keep my precious safe cuz one day my world is gonna be held by someone else. And I want my world to be treated just the way i've always dreamt. After all I've been yours, but you couldn't be mine.'

Sometimes somethings are unspoken and untold just like the love I have for you!! I love you ❤️

[sirfrogsworth]

The day started out a little rough. I woke up at 11am and trudged through 100° heat and 69% humidity to get the mail. I swear, our longass driveway seems 3 times longassier when it feels like a sauna outside.

I forgot to brush my hair and beard but took a selfie in the middle of the street because... heck it.

My mom was in a lot of pain so I had to help her figure out her pain meds and get some sugar in her since her levels were too low.

I was feeling better as the day progressed so I cooked my mom dinner.

Well, I followed her instructions and under her supervision, I cooked her dinner.

If I had tried to cook the meal left to my own devices I would not have been able to do it—even with a written recipe. But hopefully I learned a bit and will retain some of that knowledge.

She had what we call "scribbled-up hamburger" with onions, green beans, and mini baked potato wedges. We took an Instagram photo of my accomplishment for posterity.

The potatoes had olive oil, garlic pepper, flaky sea salt, and parmesan cheese.

Don't judge, but the hamburger was *literally* the first time I've ever made something successfully on a stovetop.

I am very uncomfortable with the kind of cooking that isn't determined by perfectly measured out quantities, strict time limits, and specific temperatures. I'm also not a fan of adding seasoning because you can't really measure out how much pepper something needs. I try to think of seasoning in layers or coats like paint and that is helping.

It's part of my mild, yet still frustrating OCD. I am triggered by things that do not have an order to them. As in... step 1, step 2, and so on. Or... 1 teaspoon of this, 1 cup of that, 8 ounces of that. (Can we switch to metric already?)

So if something does not need a strict order or quantity or time and it doesn't matter if you do step 3 before step 1, my eye starts a'twitchin'.

And there is a chronological aspect to my need for order too so I hate when you just have to sense or feel when things are finished cooking.

Cook this much of this thing at this temperature for this amount of time.

SO ORDERLY!

Stovetop cooking is more...

Drizzle random amounts of olive oil, chop into randomly sized chunks, add a touch of salt, cook the thing until it starts turning brown, then maybe lower the heat a bit, then stir it, then put the lid on for a bit, then maybe stir it some more, then raise the heat to get edges crispy...

SO CHAOTIC!

My mom told me to turn the heat up "a bit."

I was all, "What is 'a bit'? I have no context for 'a bit'." She was like, "A touch hotter." "HOW IS THAT BETTER INFORMATION THAN A BIT?" "Just scooch the knob a tad." My brain was like, "AHHHHHHH!" "Okay, the burner is at 3.5 uhh... stovetop heat unit... thingies." "Try 5.0 thingies!" "I CAN DO THAT!"

However, next time if she tells me "a bit" is more or less than 1.5 stovetop heat unit thingies (a.k.a. SHUTs) I am going to be very upset.

We'll have to hold a meeting on how many SHUTs equal a touch, scooch, and tad.

For the most part, with my mom directing, I felt much more comfortable and was not as anxious. It's like an OCD hack. I just pretended her direction was a step-by-step guide. She was improvising so I didn't have to. I just did the thing when she felt the thing needed to be done.

I did get eye-twitchy when adding the garlic pepper to the pan of potato wedges. It seemed like too much and too little at the same time. The lower left quadrant wasn't as evenly coated as the rest. But the bottle's cap has these 3 giant holes or 1 giant mega hole so it does not let you add minute quantities.

Your choices are either "a pile" or "a bunch."

If I tried to add more it would be too much!

So I showed my mom the pan, hoping for a solution to this seasoning conundrum. Like, do I pour out a pile on a napkin and then pinch my fingers?

She said, "Looks fine!" But my brain was like, "If you say so, but that lower left quadrant is going to be bland."

Narrator: It was fine.

COOKING WITH MENTAL ILLNESS IS FUN!

The sad truth is my folks are getting older and with age includes more pain and less stamina. They are both disabled and have chronic arthritis. So as they are able to do less and less, I am having to figure out certain adulting tasks they did for me in the past.

They would help with cleaning and vacuuming and the laundry and any complicated cooking. My dad was our chef and handyman. Mom did cleaning and laundry. She helped me change my sheets because she got those corners effing *toight*.

They did those things for me so I could save my energy for other things. This was especially helpful when I was running my blog full time and trying to make it a career.

I contributed where it made the most sense. They have trouble lifting heavy things. So I carried the finished laundry baskets upstairs. I walked down our longass driveway with the trash cans. I figured out all of the technology in the house and kept it maintained. I made sure Plex had all of those shows old people enjoy, like NCIS and Blue Bloods and the complete Columbo collection. (Columbo is actually pretty great.)

It was a basic equation. If something would cause them more pain than it robbed me of energy, then I would do that task.

It was a good arrangement that benefited all of us. Teamwork makes the dream work and whatnot. Boats get lifted if the moon makes the water go up or whatever.

Now that my dad is sick and my mom's disabilities are more severe the equation has changed and we have to adapt. Most tasks cause them more pain than they take energy from me.

But because I never did those things my brain kinda forgot how to do them. Or, more accurately, how to do them *properly*. I mean, I can do the laundry if you want pink shirts that weren't originally pink.

So I am a little embarrassed that I have to basically relearn these things as a 40 year old.

Last week I watched a YouTube video on how to clean a bathroom. I've been cleaning it for a while now, but it never seems as clean as when my parents did it. So I tried to figure out why.

There are some good tips here even if you know how already.

I learned how to change my sheets better. (My corners still suck.) I learned how to wire up a doorbell. (Poorly.) I learned how to clean a kitchen better. I learned that you should mop stuff. I bought a squirty mop. I learned how to mop. I learned proper vacuuming technique. I learned how to properly load and run the dishwasher and what all the settings do.

Cooking is a work in progress. I am still perfecting my chicken drumstick thingies.

Along with quesadillas, I can officially make 2 things on my own. (Unfortunately, I can't have quesadillas at the moment because spiciness and cheese are currently dastardly foes of my tum-tum.)

Most of my food is frozen and just requires heating so I'm not too worried about expanding my repertoire yet. And I'm probably not going to do much stovetop cooking unless it is for my mom.

I am just starting to learn how to do the laundry. It's not as hard as I thought. But there are a lot of things to remember—like which things can be washed together and on what settings and for how long.

My mom can sit on the couch and fold things, so I don't have to figure out how to improve my horrible folding skills yet. Seriously, it seems like such a simple thing, but when you compare how I fold stuff to how my mom does it, my pile looks like it wasn't even folded at all. (Her gift wrapping skillz are also off the chart.)

I don't know if I will ever be the handyman my dad was. He was an auto mechanic and professional carpenter for 30+ years. Not a fair standard to try and live up to. Too many of my handy projects end up super janky with tape and hot glue covering up mistakes.

My webcam/microphone contraption is a great example.

My motto is... "Not pretty, but pretty functional."

My dad would have probably combined shiny plumbing parts or something to make it robust and professional looking. Or did some woodworking with biscuit joints and spindle sanders and shit.

I'll be honest, I am mourning all of the energy it takes to fill these roles.

I would much rather have written an essay than break my back wiring a doorbell.

But I never regret making sacrifices for my family.

And there is a certain fulfillment and sense of accomplishment I get when I learn something new and do it *mostly* successfully.

I think sometimes I actually hear the Mario 1UP sound when I acquire a new skill.

My big worry is that my health will take a turn and I won't be able to help when my folks really need me. But my new meds are working for now and I am hopeful that I will have a few good days each week.

I'm doing my best.