All for one audition…

Those of you who know me know how obsessed I am with Star Wars and have been since I was 13. I can’t tell you what it felt like when news came out about George Lucas selling Lucasfilm to Disney and Disney upstarting Star Wars VII, VIII, and IX, how I received message upon message from people telling me this news while I was at work, and how my heart froze over when I read it for myself the moment I got home. I couldn’t believe it. For years, I would dream about those movies being made, but thought to myself it could Luke looking off at twin sunsonly happen if Lucas would let go of the series and allow other creative artists to take over. And like THAT would ever happen!

So when it actually did in 2012, I nearly choked. I REALLY couldn’t believe it. After I recovered from my own mental shock, I was giddy with excitement. I followed all the news about Disney searching for the right director, all the while I kept hoping it would be J.J. Abrams. He was my first choice; Joss Whedon was my second. When the new Star Trek film had been released in 2009, I said to my best friend Mat that if ever “in some alternate universe” Lucas would let go of the Star Wars series, J.J. should be the one to direct the last three films. So when I had heard that Abrams initially turned down directing J.J. AbramsEpisode VII, I cried out, “Why?!?!” Then, out of nowhere, I turned to God and prayed, “Please make him change his mind, PLEASE!” And so when Abrams actually DID change his decision, I thought wryly to myself, “I wonder if prayer works on my OWN career…”

But I didn’t pray for myself at the start. I’ve never been very good at prayer in general. Something about praying about one’s own career felt more like a waste of a prayer, as if God really did exist (which I believe he does), He would say to me, “So you wanna be one of the main characters in Star Wars, but you don’t wanna ask for world peace…typical human.” Instead, I began wishing upon matching numbers like 11:11 and random shooting stars, all of which when I think about it now feels like a waste of a wish. It’s not like 11:11 is gonna give a crap about whether or not I get into Star Wars. 11:11 cares more about getting to 11:12. And those shooting stars? Well, they burned off before they even got a chance to hear my wish.

As the months went by, my obsession grew stronger and it was all I could do to not lose hope. I know I’m a “no body” actress that came out to California late in her career, coming from a state I where used to say that “if there was a bright center in the world, Arizona would be the farthest from it.” But on the positive side, I grew up my whole life in theater and I am no stranger to the creative arts. When I moved out to California, I Episode "Buzz Kill" in Blood Relativeslanded two leading roles in musicals within two years and also landed my first leading role in a television show called Blood Relatives on Discovery ID within the third year.

And I’ve only been out here for three years! This is why I’m severely discouraged about having the chance to audition for Star Wars. I just landed my very first tv spot this year, there’s NO WAY I would even be considered for an audition for a major feature film. It’s not like I don’t have an agent; I have two. But they can only do so much. I, myself, have submitted as many headshots, resumes and cover letters to production companies, casting directors, and directors knowing very well that my mail will most likely be thrown out or disregarded. I’ve attended casting director workshops solely for the networking purposes of getting myself out there. And I’m quite sure I annoyed my agents enough by bugging them to keep a look out for Star Wars audition breakdowns.

Yes, I’ve gone INSANE. There’s never been anything I’ve ever wanted this badly in my entire life. Except for being an astronaut, but the reality of not being able to pass the eye exam was discouragement enough for me to not even try. This time, however, I’m trying harder than I thought myself capable, sans looking like a complete psycho. Because really, when you think about, I have nothing to lose. Truly nothing to lose by driving the casting directors and production companies crazy with all my mail…And it’s all for ONE audition. One chance to prove that I’m right for the character, right for the epic story of a universe far, far away. And then if I’m STILL not what they’re looking for, that’s life. But at least I can I say “I tried.” Or “did” because…really…there is no try.

Yes…I am a nerd. I can’t help it.

So I’ve gone back to praying to God about leading me in the right direction to have a chance to audition, hoping against all hope that it won’t be considered selfish or a waste of a prayer. Because at this point, I’ve done all I can. At this point, I need all the help I can get.

Binary suns...in a galaxy far far away

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IT’S MY BIRTH…wait for it…………………………………………..

 

A lot of changes have happened over the past months since I last wrote. A lot of mental changes and feelings and other things I can’t quite explain. At first, I thought maybe it was because I was feeling the “three-year itch” being an actress. I’ve gone into turbo mode. I am, for lack of a better word, throwing myself at people as if to say “HEY I’M ALIVE AND VERY TALENTED!!! LET ME PERFORM FOR YOU!!!” Then I thought it was because one of my most favorite movie series was being added on to and it switched on my “I don’t give a crap-fighting for what I want” mode. Star Wars was something I lived in since I was 13. Hell, I’ve even written my own stories to the series! Memorized every line of Luke’s. Wanted to be Luke, AND was in love with him. I even compare the guys I date to Luke Skywalker. THIS, alone, is proof of my obsessive compulsiveness. Or was it the fact that all my past girlfriends were married and having children, and I wasn’t. Or was it…simply…the feeling of the clock…ticking.

My birthday is in a few hours. There were many moments where I felt like I should write, but tonight felt like the right moment.

I have a dog sleeping in my bed right now. Tiny, white and cream colored, with long silk hair, and gentle eyes and a quiet demeanor. I rescued him yesterday. It seems like everyone was having babies…and I produced a dog. I named him Toby Lee Orion, aka (just) Toby. Yeah, so I wanted a little touch of sci-fi to the name, I couldn’t resist. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, though…I’ve never been a “small dog” person. I guess you could blame it on my whimming personality. But I feel there’s something else changing in me.

I mailed George Lucas a letter yesterday as well…AND Kathleen Kennedy AND J.J. Abrams AND Disney. I mailed them because I am THAT desperate to have a chance to audition for Star Wars, I’m starting to feel a little nuts. But I figured I have nothing to lose, because currently in the film world I am pretty close to nothing anyhow, so what better thing to do but send George Lucas and friends a “Hello, you don’t know me, but I love you!” letter…for those of you who don’t know me, the “I love you” part is completely satirical……so I say……

I also have a boyfriend that I can’t admit is a boyfriend because the term freaks me out SO much, I immediately turn off and don’t want him anymore. But as long as he stays in the friend zone, I want him. This may also prove I’ve gone officially nuts, but haven’t seen a professional yet… He’s my Number 1 and he’s my best friend. He’s also my intimate lover. But labels really sit sourly with me…to the point of an upset stomach…to the point of me running like there’s zombies after me. EXACTLY!

My mother asked me recently if my motivation as an actress has been spurred on because of the new Star Wars movies and I told her, “Yes.” As a child, I really wanted to be an astronaut. Truly, I still want to be one, but because my bad eyesight wouldn’t be able to make the cut AND when I was young I didn’t think of myself as smart enough, the dream of being in space was limited to just pretense. But an actor CAN travel space within the mind’s eye. So, yes, I know the new SW movies have become my main motivation in life. There’s nothing I want more. There really really is nothing!

For the first time, I’m taking workshops with casting directors that work for J.J. Abrams, sending out headshots and resumes to people I don’t think would ever even care to look at (that’s why I’ll be sending them out every month Winking smile) , buying my first dog that acts like a fabulous stress reliever, and pulling along a fantastic guy/person because I can’t seem to relax in a committed relationship.

So as a result, I have spent more money this year than I EVER have just to somehow make sense of things in my personal life and catch someone’s attention in the Star Wars world. And every bit of it has felt worth it. Because I know that if I don’t get a chance, at least I can say I didn’t try my all……in BOTH worlds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DAY! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! to me because I’m a MayDay baby

Number 1…part 3

 

PATIO TALK

It was warm out, so I’d decided to eat my lunch out on the patio of our workplace. I ate ravenously, barely chewing before swallowing, inhaling more and more until my plate was nearly clean. One would think I had malnutrition. I probably was…being a “starving actor” ‘n all. I ate alone, a warm breeze flushing my cheeks. I enjoyed eating alone. It was peaceful and I didn’t have to talk to anyone. I could focus purely on my food. I could focus and think…

Think…think and thinking and thinking too much…

I wondered about my friend Pablo and why he liked Bobby, or Robert—or whatever—so much. Pablo was my best friend, but I couldn’t understand what he saw in him. Why he thought he was a really nice guy when he was a total ass. I thought about the time I asked Bobby to stay at work for me so I could go home early and he said “no, that he had to get home to his daughter.” Then when he was done with his shift, he ended up hanging out with Pablo at the bar with a couple of drunken girls. I was really mad about that. Angrier than usual. I shouldn’t have been. He wasn’t my husband. But there just HAD to be a reason why he was acting this way. It didn’t make any sense. Because he WAS a really nice guy. He wasn’t a jerk. But his actions just didn’t match up. And Pablo liked him, and so did a lot of people, so why was it I was seeing him as the bad guy? There just had to be a reason why he acted the way he did and it was going to drive me insane until I found out why!

“Hey, whatcha thinkin’?”

Speak of the devil

“What’s up, Bobby,” I said, snapping into focus, and wiping any residual food-crumbs off the corners of my mouth. He was standing across from me, smiling his usual-annoying smile.

“Oh, I just saw you out here and wanted to say hi, but you looked deep in thought…” he said, smiling.

“Oh yeah, I do that,” I said, wiping my face again with my napkin. I could’ve sworn I felt leftover crumbs on my face still.

“Whatcha eating?” he asked, his fingers laced in front of him as he casually leaned against a chair.

“Um…” I glanced down at my plate…what did I eat? I was so hungry, I didn’t even pay attention. “I dunno, sliders?” I shrugged.

Bobby nodded. “They must’ve been good.”

“Yep.” My eyes flicked from my plate to Bobby and back again. “So, what’s up?”

He shrugged…and smiled again. “Just wanted to say hi.”

“Why don’t you act like a married man?” I blurted, as if the situation couldn’t be anymore uncomfortable for me and my “private” lunch.

He blinked and the smile went slightly crooked, but seemed to still hold on. And then his face relaxed, as if a sense of relief went through him. “Do you really wanna know?” he said.

“Um, yeah. I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t.” Boy, I could such a bitch to him.

Bobby sighed and the smile was gone. Then he went into a story I would never forget. Out of respect for the sake of their own relationship’s privacy, I won’t divulge. But all you need to know is that the man went from beginning to end with a story about what happened between him and his wife. And because I could sense he was telling the truth (lies are easy to spot, trust me), the hate and anger I felt for him melted away. Those feelings were replaced with a sadness and a touch of guilt for hating him so much. I asked him why, if the two of them were so miserable, he or her didn’t ask for a divorce. He told me that he wouldn’t do it because he wanted the best for his daughter, but that the idea of divorce crossed his mind many times. He figured, being an incredibly patient man, he would try to wait it out until his daughter grew to be 18.

After a moment, he said, “Do you think I’m a bad person?” And he was serious, the look in his eyes glossing over.

“No,” I said. “I think you’re human.”

My insides warmed but in a very sad and guilty way. It felt like everything I thought I knew or assumed about Bobby was right and wrong at the same time. Bobby was trapped in a marriage where both people wanted to escape and neither knew how to do it right. From then on, I decided to make him a friend. Not a close friend, but in my circle of people who I knew needed somebody. I called it The Losers Club (because, frankly, I was one of the biggest losers).

“Thank you for telling me,” I said. “If you ever need a friend…” This time I smiled.

A month or so had passed since we had that talk on the patio. We were good friends at work, but nothing more. My sarcasm remained when talking with him, but we were more playful than we had been before.

One day, while the two of us worked at our computer stations, he looked at me with a particularly bright smile and said, “I’ve got some interesting news to tell you.”

“Oh yeah? What?” I said, smirking at him with my usual cockiness.

“I’m getting a divorce.”

My jaw dropped…

Number 1…part 2

 

THE COLDSHOULDER MOVE

As the months passed, I endured working with Robert, by being a bitch. I can’t explain why he brought this bitchy side out of me, but I wanted to make it clear that absolutely NO sign of attraction would sneak out onto my expression. He would walk pass me at work and say, “Hey, pretty lady.” I would sneer back. Every computer station I worked at, he would be there too, and if he said anything to me, I would ignore him. If he tried to jump into a conversation with me and another coworker, I would cut him off by saying, “Married men aren’t allowed to talk about this. Go away.” His response was always a smile and a little laugh, and he would CONTINUE talking with us anyway!

I hated him.

When we were on separate sides of the room, I would glance over in his direction and watch him work. He always had this intense look in his eyes whenever he worked on the computer and his lips pursed in concentration. He had full lips and long black eyelashes, black curly hair cut short, high cheekbones, skin the color of creamy coffee, and these subtle dimples that creased his cheeks anytime he smiled. I wanted to kiss those dimples.

Boy, I hated him!

One night, a bunch of us from work got together at a bar to celebrate an old manager’s visit home. It was hours upon hours of fun and drinks. LOTS of drinks. I had a total of about six vodka Red Bulls, which landed me in the arms of an innocent coworker. I suppose we made out for a couple of minutes, but I wouldn’t find out until the next morning at work.

“Everyone’s telling me that we made out,” I would say.

His young face would turn bright red. It always turned bright red when I talked to him.

“Is that true?” I would ask.

“Yes,” he would say.

“Oh…well, was it any good?” I would say.

“Yes, it was very sweet, actually,” he would say.

“Oh….well, I’m sorry, I was totally drunk. I didn’t mean to take advantage of you like that,” I would say.

“No, don’t be sorry. It was great,” he would say.

“I’m sorry anyway. It won’t ever happen again,” I would say. And it didn’t.

Back to the party at the bar, my massive drunk buzz was finally wearing off and I had returned to a more suitable buzz. Good timing too, because the next thing I heard was…

“BOBBY!!!”

I turned around and saw Robert walk into the bar, a bright white smile spread across his face as he greeted everyone from work.

As he made his way closer to where I was, I called out, “Well look who’s here!”

He just smiled back and came towards me. But I moved away and took a seat at the bar top, realizing as I was sitting down, my drunkenness was still affecting my thought process so I deemed it wiser to stay away from Robert. Somehow he ended up hovering beside my chair anyway, almost like a protective shroud. The coworker I made out with was close by too. But I distracted myself with my girlfriends, all the while irritated AND smugly pleased that Robert was standing guard.

Soon enough, it was closing time and we were all making our way out of the bar. People were offering me rides home, but I wanted to go to Denny’s to sober up some more. Robert offered to take me and I took it.

As soon as we walked into the old-fashioned diner, my gut twisted in a warning. But I ignored it. We sat down at a table and I ordered coffee and chicken strips. Or rather he ordered them for me, which I thought was quite bizarre. Pssh, I guy ordering FOR me, the nerve… 

It was just the two of us. We talked about musicals, history, my life as an actress, his life as a history major, details I would never remember because my head wouldn’t stop buzzing, and because I was too caught up with the fact that I was sitting alone with him thinking how wonderful it was and that I wanted so badly to reach out and touch his cheek, and that this was how it could be…if…

If what? You’re not married, my head would say. Then, but HE is, my other head would say.

We were leaned in very close at this point. I could feel his warm breath on my mouth, and then, before I knew what was happening…

“Well, are you done? Cause I need to get going,” he said.

I blinked and glanced down at my plate of food. Empty.

“Yeah, I’m done,” I said, and that warm feeling I felt inside my gut turned to an icy, numbing pain.

He drove me back to my car in silence, dropped me off and drove away without waiting for me to get inside my car. I remember it was freezing that night too and I only had on a thin jacket. I don’t know why that’s important, but I remember thinking to myself, as I watched his truck speed off, shivering, what an ass…a married ass.

Later, at work, I would ask him, “Why don’t you act like a married man?” But that’s for another story…

Number 1…part 1

 

It’s only been a week into the new year and I’m already running. I ended the old year with a great blog about my newest friends and Number 1 being the closest thing to BEING the one. And now I’m running again. Now I’m panicking. And crying. And being so girlishly possessive it makes me sick. If there’s one thing I hate most, it’s crying…and being sick.

And it occurs to me that I’ve never written a blog about Number 1 and how we became…something—sorry, the term “relationship” just makes me queasy, but that’s what we became.

I was much safer in my little dream world with Luke Skywalker, fighting off bad guys, and making love with the Force. You know you’ve always wanted to!

In the Beginning (one-ish year ago)

So here I was, minding my own business, eating a Turkey Cobb sandwich on my dinner break, when someone decided to interrupt.

“Hey, so I hear you’re an actress,” he says. I look up and see Robert, or Bob, or whatever he went by. He was very tall, had black hair, and amber-colored eyes. Of course I wouldn’t notice his eyes until much later. Needless to say, I was instantly attracted to him. Like BAM-in-your-FACE into him.

He was the new guy. I had already introduced myself to him earlier as I normally do to newbies…

“Hey, who are you?” I said, as he busied himself at the beverage station.

“I’m (Robert or Bob or something),” he said. At the time I couldn’t remember his name exactly. I was too busy trying to look and act cool as my insides were bursting with fiery hormones that wanted to jump all over this poor innocent human male.

“Well, I’m Xanna,” I said. “Welcome to hell.” “Hell” being The Restaurant in this instance. And that was it. I sauntered away as usual, trying to recall his name, but all I could remember was his brilliant smile and surprisingly comforting eyes. Mine, was the only thing that went through my mind. I felt a little smile grow inside of me.

Creepy, isn’t it? When people fall for other people. If you think about it…it really is creepy. But sometimes cute and it just makes you wanna go awwwwwwww……

Anyhow, later that evening, he decided to sit next to me on my dinner break and ask me a whole lot of questions about being an actress, to which I responded with “I’m the starving kind” and surprised me with how much he knew about musicals and such.

I figured he must be gay in some way—which was just my luck because I was always either attracted to gay men or married men—but it turned out he wasn’t and that he was just a history major in college and had an obsession about knowing everything about everything. Don’t ask me why that made me think he wasn’t gay anymore—just did.

And then it happened. Mine flashed through my thoughts again. It had been a while since anyone had sparked that inside of me…come to think of it, never had. And now all I could think of was tall, dark haired man named Robert. Going to work was suddenly fun for the first time. I couldn’t wait to see him.

Sometimes while I worked at one of the computer stations, he would come over and work next to me and ask me more questions. I don’t remember what, but it sounded nice, and all I could think of was mine—mine and yum.

Then one day I invited him out with a group of friends from work. A group of us usual go out to Crown and Anchor, a local English pub, after work and try to forget how awful our jobs are.

“Thanks, but I’ve got my daughter tonight,” he said.

Sting in the chest! (Not a stab, those are much worse). I “inner-winced” and remembered when I dated a guy with a daughter. Yeah, Mr. Georgia. And…it didn’t work out too well. Which was a “heavy” bummer at the time. But hey! Why judge this guy the same way? And the way he said “I’ve got my daughter tonight” made me think, soooooo this guy’s gotta be divorced, right? Who says it that way when they’re married?

“Ah, so you’re married?” I asked, assuming he’d probably say something along the lines of “no, I’m divorced,” or “no, I’m widowed,” or “no, I adopted,” or “no, I had a child out of wedlock and I got to keep her, ha!” which would all be perfect answers to my hopeful little heart…or hormones…or whatever!

“Yes I am,” he said.

………………………………………………STAB!!!!!

“Oh,” I smiled…I think… “Well, why would you say it like that? Why would you say, I’ve got my daughter tonight, as if you’re divorced or something.” Then I threw in a little sarcastic laugh like I was being cool or something. “So where’s your wife, then?”

“She’s got class tonight,” he said, still smiling that annoying patient, yet sweet and gentle and so very attractive, but untouchable smile.

“Ah, yes. Ah, well, that makes sense—yes. Well……………maybe next time.” And I turned my focus to the computer…very intently to the computer, all the while feeling my insides—AND hormones—freeze up and go cold. Of course he’s married. Of course

And that was it.

But it wasn’t…

2013…Let’s see if “third time” really is a charm

 

Spit flew from my lips as I gasped for air. It was cold and the wind didn’t help. Other than a small top and thin leggings, the only thing coating me was sweat. I couldn’t breathe except from my mouth, and that, in of itself, was a struggle. I dodged to the left, clumsily landing on the rugged dirt path. Stones and rock tried to trip me, but I couldn’t slow down. I wouldn’t.

My younger brother was just up ahead, just above the steep hill in front of me. They were taking him. And they were going to kill him. The only person around to stop them was me. I heard him scream out my name. I called back with as much strength as I could spare. I came to the bottom of the hill and sprinted up. Digging my shoes into the soft dirt wasn’t enough. They were faster. I saw them drag my baby brother past the horizon and heard the shot. By the time I reached the top of the hill, they were gone and so was my brother. I returned home, defeated.

But tomorrow, they wouldn’t be so lucky.

This is how I motivated myself to run every day. Imagination is a whole-nother world for me. I had never been a runner up until 2012. My friend Pablo said to me one day, after long hours of lazing around, “Let’s go for a run.”

“I don’t run,” I said. “I’m terrible at it and it hurts my knees.” Excuses are always the way to go with Pablo, since he uses them so frequently it’s almost a second language for him.

“Aw come on!” he said.

Before I knew it, we were off, running up and down steep hills around my neighborhood. And that’s all it took. From then on, I started running every day (or night) and usually had an adventurous time with it too, hence my story above.

2012 happened to be quite an eventful year this time around. Just as I’d hoped. My last New Year’s blog was rather depressing, 2011 being rather a drag. I ended up spending New Year’s home alone watching Star Trek and writing my blog. I promised myself that 2012 would be different. That I’d go on more whims, make better friends, and fall in love, and, as per every year, somehow leave my serving job.

Well, folks, I did make all of it happen!

Getting More Agents

At the start of 2012, I added onto my resume another agent, Brady, Brannon, and Rich. They were to be my commercial agent. So instead of being only submitted for theater projects, I was finally able to go out on non-union commercial projects. I got lots of auditions, landed a few callbacks, but no bookings. Better than nothing, I think. It seemed as if my acting life was finally getting interesting. Let me tell you about commercial auditions….EASIEST THINGS EVER! In theater, you have to be prepared on multiple levels—monologues, 16-32 bar cut music, dancing, cold readings—but commercials? Man, it’s like you don’t have to do anything but show up and look the part!

Tipsy Tuesdays!

This year I finally clicked with a group of people I like to call The Rejects. I found myself suddenly with a best friend, Pablo. It seemed after I spent New Year’s eve alone, 2012 decided I wouldn’t spend any more of them like that. So that’s how Tipsy Tuesday was formed. One night, I decided to show up at my work on half-off-wine Tuesday and have a bottle of wine. There I saw Pablo sitting by himself on the other side of the bar. I called him over and we immediately started a long conversation on Metroid and Star Wars. Then others would join in—not the conversation necessarily, but the wine-ing. Katie, Samantha, Stephanie, Justin, and many others would become apart of the tradition known as Tipsy Tuesday. We would start at work, then make our way to Sunset Terrace, a lounge/bar of the neighborhood, and play Shuffle Board, King’s Kup, you name it! It was awesome. And then, one fateful night, I decided to change the name of the game, waste myself on a bottle and a half of wine, plus three whiskey shots, take a dull knife and go at it to my leg again.

The Cutting Returns

I hadn’t had a cutting episode since 2009 when I was miserable living in Arizona, finishing up my bachelor’s degree. That episode was the start of Whimming Lessons and this blog, come to think of it.

Anyhow, during another Tipsy Tuesday night, I had removed myself from my friends to cut in solitude. The drunk part was not the reason to it either. Cutting is a very fascinating reaction to depression and buried emotions. Getting drunk was on purpose to see if it would deaden the pain. Cutting is the release of that pain, when the drunk part doesn’t work. It’s an embarrassing habit that I somehow stumbled upon during my “crazy days” in 2009. Now it remains in my memory as a type of “way out.” A stupid “way out,” but one none the less. I spent months afterwards trying to heal up my leg. It took longer this time than before and got infected. But it didn’t stop me again. Number 1 had to clean me up the second time.

Number 1

This year was particularly interesting when concerning men. I had The Bartender, Blue Shirt, Mr. Big, and if there were any others, I hate to say I can’t remember them. Oh yeah! The Old Boss. Now, don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t “getting some” with all these guys. I happen to be old fashioned in the way I handle my dating relations with men. Or more simply put: I don’t enjoy sex unless I FEEL something for that person. So I don’t have sex for the hell of it.

I’m quite sure The Bartender and The Old Boss weren’t too happy with me because of this.

The Old Boss was an older man I had been highly sexually attracted to for years. But I make it a point not to get involved with bosses. That is…until they aren’t my boss anymore. So, on a daring and very nerve-wracking whim, I made out with The Old Boss, narrowly escaping being lured into his bed. By that, I mean, it had been a while for me and, boy, were my hormones flying! But there was something quite disturbing about kissing my old boss. It was as if my brain was still in “employee mode” and all I could think of was “obeying” his orders…while he was kissing me….uck! I decided to get out of there as soon as I could. I call it the Boss Whim. Never need to whim that one again, that’s for sure!

Next was The Bartender from Bogie’s. I was totally into him! But he turned out exactly as everyone else said he would, a completely man whore…aka, “bartender.” Three dates were enough for me.

Then there was The Boy, Blue Shirt and Mr. Big both at the same time. These relationships happened at a strange time in my life. I was at a point where I thought relationships were annoying, troublesome, and a waste of my time. Dating was still fun though. But Blue Shirt reminded of someone I had lost a long time ago, someone I had loved. The Boy was a side of attraction and youth I’d never experienced. And Big was the best friend I thought I’d never have. So I had a very intimate relationship with them, trying to decide for myself if either of them would grow into something deeper.

And then it happened one day in my dressing room, fighting off a bad sinus cold, and getting ready for opening night of 1776. I had received flowers from Mr. Big and his eight year old daughter. There was a little note from her as well. My dressing roommate said to me that my eyes were so bright and my face was glowing. It was then I realized who I wanted. I named him Number 1 shortly after that.

The Starving Actor

Whenever anyone asked me what my profession was this year, I said, “Oh, I’m an actor…the starving kind.” But it really wasn’t all the bad. I had become apart of a sketch comedy group called The Movie Guys which kept me busy every month. Then I started doing little promotional events for Cabrillo Music Theatre, the first theater company I worked for since I moved out to California. During the summer, I ended up playing Marian Paroo in The Music Man and in the fall, Abigail Adams in 1776. That’s two leads in a row! I was beyond thrilled.

New Year’s Eve

As I’m sitting here writing this, my friends are laughing, eating and drinking in the kitchen outside my room. I can’t tell you how different this is. California is now home for me. I’ve never written a blog where my friends were yelling at me to get off the computer because we have to go whimming!!!

“Hey, let’s go, I’m starving,” Pablo just said, bursting into my room.

“I’m almost done,” I say, typing as quickly as I can.

2012 was awesome! Despite the cutting returning resulting in birth control being denied to me, and Prozac being apart of my life forever, this year was pretty epic. We went skinny-whimming on a private beach! I whimmed with an old boss! We created Tipsy Tuesdays! I got promoted at work. I have the bestest friends I could ever wish for. I got hired at Marmalade resulting in, hopefully, my ultimate exit from The Restaurant. I got to work with renowned director Nick DeGruccio. And I found Number 1, who is more than a friend, more than a boy, and definitely more than a boy-friend.

Okay, they’re bugging me to get off the computer now, so I have to go. I don’t even have any time to proofread or edit this, so it’s kinda wonky, I apologize. I wanted to put pictures even, but it seems I’m out of time.

2012 rocked, but I got a really good feeling three times a charm! So bring it, 2013!!! BRING IT!