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Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Yes, we're only on #9

Thursday, September 23rd, 2021

photo by Kitty duKane

The list of 34 continues. Not sure what I'm talking about? Check out my earlier blog posts:

9. Mood changes

Because mental health is so burdened with stigma, I struggled with what to say when discussing mood changes because mood and mental health intermingle in my mind. No surprise here, but I AM NOT A MENTAL HEALTH PROFESSIONAL. Talk to your doctor for real issues.

Tangent! And if your doctor blows you off, get another f'ing doctor. One that will listen to you, that will respect that you know more about your body than they do. I had a doctor who is now — sadly for us — retired. She told me that I know more about my body than anyone. This is true. This doctor existed in the real world, not on television or a novel or comic book or some drug induced fantasy. She was my GP who respected me and wanted to know what I thought about my body.

De-tangent: You KNOW not to take advice from random people on the internet, right? That counts for me, too. I'm only discussing myself, my experiences, and/or my NOT PEER-REVIEWED research.

WebMD, the most popular website for self-diagnosing brain tumors, lists the following as emotional changes that might be experienced during menopause: Irritability, Feelings of sadness, Lack of motivation, Anxiety, Aggressiveness, Difficulty concentrating, Fatigue, Mood changes, Tension. (AKA my Monday To-Do list.) That's a lot of indicators, so let's just stick to the three mood changes listed as examples in the now infamous 34 symptoms.

  • Anxiety: I'm not talking about an anxiety disorder. See your doctor about this.
    • Terms: I'm having anxiety, or my botheration is acting up or I've got inflamed angst, swollen worry, or a tormented attitude.
  • Irritability: "That bitch is fractious," or, "Watch out. She has a tendency toward surliness." And, yes, I'm saying surliness is positive. The first definition of surly in merriam-webster.com is "menacing or threatening in appearance." Don't mess with me. "My petulance is extra prickly today."
  • Depression: There was a story on I think This American Life or The Moth or one of those NPR storytelling shows, where a guy (maybe Andrew Solomon?) talked about a better term for depression being a "brain storm" but "brainstorm" was already a thing. If I use the phrase "brainstorm" people will think I'm referring to coming up with great ideas rather than my brain is storming in my head, complete with dark clouds, high winds, and thunder. It's not a serene place: my brain is in turmoil.
    • What if we call it a brain tempest? Or a mood squall? Or cyclonic humour?

Alternately: "I'm going into the ring with temperament, and it doesn't look good" or "I'm stuck in bed with an unending assault of self-loathing" Another angle is being consumed with hopelessness, or as I like to call it, "chock full of no hope."

Gender Schmender

Sunday, November 1st, 2020

This started as stand-up so I expected you to see me when you heard this. But now you're reading it. So…..

Who's that girl?

I know, you're thinking, well, she's really given up on herself. Nope. This is me. I've never been girly. Rachel Maddow wears too much makeup for me. You know that girl who wore a tux to her prom? That was me. Even though I went with my boyfriend. I find that I still have to come out as hetero. A situation I would often find myself in when I moved to San Francisco. Having to come out. And to every therapist I ever had. No. I'm not a lesbian. I like dudes!

Then the world at large started becoming aware of the difference between gender and sexuality- or we all caught up with the enlightened. That's when a light bulb went off in my head. Ohhhh. All these years, that's what people have been picking up on. Not that I was a lesbian, but that I was part dude. Not transgender. Just a pinch. Okay. More than a pinch.
Gawd bless the nonbinary for letting me realize this. I love the overexuberance of youth. Some say they over-embrace the nonbinary, but if they didn't where would we be? Fuck we- where would I be. Questioning my sexuality because everyone else did.

Let me back up.

I had short hair when I was little. I used to get mistaken for a boy. A LOT. By girls in the girls' bathroom. Girls screaming- something I never did. I mean, I yelled, but I never screamed- girls screaming that I was in the wrong bathroom. Their response both upset and empowered me. What's wrong with me?! I'm a freak! Wait. I had older brothers and I wanted to be like them. So, yay?

I wanted so badly to be like them, my older brothers, that I shaved once- before they shaved. And cut up my face. My family laughed at me. Girls don't do that, they said. And I thought, well, they don't because it hurts.

I also tried to pee standing up. They told me girls don't do that, either. And it was messy. Mom had to talk to me. Apparently, boys are equipped to do this. Which is not fair, because public restrooms are disgusting. I'd rather pee standing up instead of spending eons fashioning an ass-gasket- er, er, toilet seat cover- out of toilet paper. Just one of the many ways that men have an advantage over women. Wait. Gender. Men/women. Plumbing. Whatever. I get confused when I have to talk about whatever we are / I am anymore.

I've often wondered if my proclivity toward men's clothes is just about the pockets. Oh, and the comfort. And the flat shoes. And I don't do skirts. Didn't. The only time you'll see me in a skirt is if my crotch needs some air. Ugh. My poor mother would go batshit any time I dressed as a girl, any time I did anything remotely girly. Needless to say, she wasn't happy that I wore a tux to my prom. My first year of college, I asked for make-up for Christmas. She bought me $500 worth of make-up. And this was 1984. So, that makeup would probably cost at least a couple thousand in today's dollars. Seriously. She wanted me to be girly.

Sorry Mom.

Stories I Tell Myself

Sunday, December 18th, 2016

For all the artists who didn't.

And all the artists who did.


This HowlRound article about motherhood and theater got me thinking, about the paths not taken, about fear, about motherhood.

I think about all the things I didn't do and why not.  Here's what I tell myself:

  • In college, I gave up acting for directing because of the fear of rejection.
  • I fell in love with directing.
  • I needed a full time job for the benefits. The one time I went without benefits, I broke my hand. So, I got a job with benefits.
  • I gave up directing because I couldn't work a full time job and direct. (Why not? Because that's what I told myself.)
  • I started writing plays because they didn't require the rehearsal time commitment, but being a writer requires self-discipline. I'm good with a deadline, but not self-imposed deadlines. (Why not? Because that's what I told myself.)
  • I didn't pursue theater because I may want a family and I knew I couldn't do both. (Why not? Because that's what I told myself.)
  • I didn't have a family because it would mess with my theater and I knew I couldn't do both. (Why not? Because that's what I told myself.)

Am I a reliable narrator of my own life? (more…)

Wake Up

Sunday, June 12th, 2016

I wrote this post in 2012, but never published it. I just found it. Here it is, unfinished (I was going to write more about Jeanette Winterson toward the end of the post and of course wrap it all up in some fabulously pithy way, but I forget what I was going to say.)

My friend Mary Downing died this week. She was an amazing director. Since finding out, I've been flooded with emotions, feeling her loss on so many levels. We were inseparable in grad school, made more so when we did our theses as a joint project. We co-directed a season of lunch-hour plays. I grappled with Pinter while she tackled Durrenmatt. I played with silences and color while she made heroes of the insane. I learned so much from watching her in action. Everything was an opportunity for expression, no detail overlooked. (A pile of Christmas lights on a fireplace grate? Glorious!) (more…)

I Done Gone And Done It

Thursday, October 6th, 2011

I started a theater company.

In the past, I've accidentally created a theater company (and you're on its website!) And I've joined companies already in progress (thanks First Seen!) Of course, I've worked for others. But this is the first time I've intentionally done it. Started a company, ground up.

Every Sunday in October? That's crazy! But it's true.

Los Angeles, please welcome exAngelus Playwrights Collective. We must be real. Here's the proof:

We've got a mission:

To serve its member playwrights by providing ongoing workshops, dramaturgical and administrative support and production opportunities- on the playwright's terms.

And a vision:

Kyle T. Wilson, Katherine Murphy and Tira Palmquist begin the ExAngelus Playwrights' Collective with a small but powerful idea:

     we will do it ourselves.

I'll stop there. You can read the rest on our website.

The real proof: (more…)

Travelling to Tennessee

Tuesday, July 19th, 2011

Trying to remember when we started studying Tennessee Williams, I looked back at my email trails. The traffic started in January.  That means we studied Thomas Lanier "Tennessee" Williams III for nearly half the year.  Reading so much Williams, I felt like I was in grad school again. (To me, that's a good thing.)  Some classics so great to be reminded of, some lesser known plays from the ignorable to the surprisingly different. (My favorite surprise was Kingdom of Earth (think Sam Shepard meets Tennessee.)) (more…)

What Makes a Friend?

Friday, March 25th, 2011

Part of my Not Playwrighting series…

What I know: My father was abandoned as a child.

What I believe: He was emotionally stunted because he was abandoned as a child.

What I know: Starting at the age of six, my grandmother sent my father to live with family and friends of the family, many of them unkind and interested in child labor.

What I believe: She shipped him off because my dad looked like his father (she kept my Aunt Iris with her.)

What I know: My father was three years old — I think — when his father left. I'll verify this with my brothers. He saw his father once more, at a train station, when he was ten.

What I believe: (Simplified version) Because his father left when he was so young, whenever a man would befriend my father later in life, he never questioned their friendship. He was desperate for their companionship.

What I believe: People smell desperation. Healthy people are repelled by it and parasites are drawn toward it. (more…)

Writing on Not Writing

Saturday, February 19th, 2011

Why can't I finish my play? It's never been an issue until this current play. I've never been prolific, but since I started finishing plays, I've never had nothing.

Of course, non-writers are chock full of advice. To them, I say, Offer no advice, unless asked. And writers who've never been blocked, please don't tell me what you do.

I'm full of oh, that won't work advice for myself. But one idea just occurred to me. People are always saying write it out in one way or another. Of course, when you are blocked, it's like telling a depressed person to exercise to make them feel better. Ain't happening. However, since I've been doing this silly blog thing, telling stories for myself and my five readers, I've been writing- just not playwrighting. So, here's my thought… Use this blog to write it out. just not as a play. (more…)

Writing and addiction

Sunday, February 13th, 2011

I've been thinking a lot about writing and addiction lately. So much has been written on the subject, I should probably read some of it. But I'll probably watch TV instead.

I quit Facebook because I was spending too much time there. I know to most of you it sounds like the most pathetic addition, but I've given up almost everything else. All that remains is coffee, TV, cheese, and the computer. Not necessarily in that order.

Photo by Lucas Gattuso, my hubby, taken in Wisconsin. Of course.

Reflecting on 2010 as one does at the beginning of a new year, I realized how I hadn't written anything except maybe two scenes in a play I'd been diddling with for two years. And to write those two scenes, I'd had to retreat to Northern Wisconsin for several days specifically to write. My retreats are usually where I start or finish something. This time, I sat. No substantial writing. Then I thought again. Oh no, Murphy, you've written way more than two scenes. Think of all the status updates and witty comments to other people's status updates. Think of the time and energy spent on pithy little nothings.

Since 2002, I'd finished a full-length play every other year.  2002: Greater America; 2004: To Hades and Back (Again); 2006: Drug of Choice; 2008: Word of the Day. And 2010 passed without finishing Box Store Cowboys. This has really been eating at me. I have no desire to work on it. And no ideas for something new. Is this because I'm numbing my brain with the Book of Face? Or have I been numbing my brain because I'm done writing plays and don't want to admit that to myself? (more…)

Rule 62

Tuesday, January 11th, 2011

Flashback to Halloween 2010.

Luke and I were invited to a Halloween party of one his friends. Neither of us are big fans of parties, but felt mildly obligated and, well, heck, Halloween used to be my favorite holiday- still, I wasn't feeling it. Until! I was on my way home and realized that I was wearing my father's flannel. I had a stroke of brilliance (read: laziness): I could dress up as my father for Halloween! It would be simple and I could be comfortable. A pair of Luke's beige pants, hiked up to my upper waist, white t-shirt, light colored shoes, my father's baseball cap, and, voila, I am my dead father! (more…)