Number 1…part 3

February 21, 2013May 31, 2018 Christanna Rowader1 Comment

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 1

January 6, 2013January 6, 2013 Christanna Rowader2 Comments

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…

Blue Shirt

August 7, 2012May 31, 2018 Christanna Rowader4 Comments

So many things can happen in one summer. If we could all remember every little detail we experience, maybe we would finally realize how exciting and interesting our lives really are. We all are living an adventure deserved to be written about. This is why I write. This is why I nag my grandmother, whom I call Mana, to write her story. This is why it saddens me that my grandfather, Papa, never wrote his before he passed away. And this is why I write about the people in my life, because they have an adventure deserved to be documented too.

This summer, I made friends. Good friends. The closely-knit kind I’d been wanting badly. Samantha, Pablo, Katie, Helena, Monique, and many more. They will always be apart of my life story.

This summer, I got to play Marian Paroo in the The Music Man. Of course, I got a horrendous chest cold during the callback. Somehow survived it, but was out from work the following days. Still got the part. Weird how that works. Anyhow, she was one of my dream roles. I grew up with The Music Man. My family grew up with it too. The musical felt more apart of me than usual. It felt like being home. During the run, I met some wonderful people that I’ll never forget. And, of course, I am madly in love with my opposite, Kristopher Kyer, who played Harold Hill. One of my favorite people ever, truly.

This summer, I got to be apart of The Movie Guys, a comedy group that previews and reviews movies every month. I specialize in the sci-fi stuff, of course. Winking smile I love working with Paul Preston, Karen Volpe, Lee Kias, Adam Witt, and many others. I’ve met some very wonderfully funny and interesting people throughout the months.

This summer, I got to sing with the Prescott Pops Symphony orchestra once again, conducted by my father. A year ago, he wanted to book me to sing as one of his soloist, and I kept telling him I couldn’t commit because I didn’t know if I’d have a better gig by then. As the months passed, things worsened for my father at the Prescott college. He was disrespectfully, and without warning, fired through an email by the newest head of the music department at the college, reason being simply a difficulty in communication. And then other soloists were dropping out at the last second for the concert my father was putting on in July. I decided to commit to the concert, not only because I couldn’t abandon my dad, but because I wanted him to know he still had the respect and the support of other singers.

This summer, I developed an unexpected but fully embraced sense of love and support from my aunt and uncle who live in California. There was always love within my family members, but now I feel a sudden closeness to them that I only rarely feel for a handful of people. This feeling is hard for me to describe, but to put it simply, it is the feeling one might feel for their own child…they would kill for them, or die. I’ve felt this way about my parents and my Mana and Papa. There are just a few others I’ve had this feeling for, but now my aunt and uncle have joined this circle in my heart. Sometimes I laugh and brush this emotion off as a fault of my “artistic” side. But it’s there, nonetheless. Now my uncle is leaving for Afghanistan…I can only hope it’ll be boring.

This summer, I also met someone. The man with the blonde hair and the blue eyes. I caught a glimpse of him in the audience during my show. The blue shirt is what drew my attention. And I thought, “he’s cute.” Then I saw him again at dinner with a friend. Coincidence? I don’t know. But I thought it was cool. Because I remember details like that. Just like in a movie. And then he asked me out.

But that’s all I’m gonna say. This story deserves a separate blog.

There’s a little story in all of this, but I think the most important thing to understand is that this was a happy time. I want to remember it well. That’s why I’m writing it now. Because I know when there’s an up, there’s always another down. And the dark side of my brain likes to take over during those downs.

So I hope for the happy times like now to last a long time, and I write to keep it real.

There’s an adventure in all of us, so don’t take it for granted, and remember all the details down to the last blue shirt.

Better to have never loved

May 23, 2012May 31, 2018 Christanna Rowader2 Comments

It’s nights like these when I am reminded of the phrase, “Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,” which is quickly followed by, “Try it” in my romantically cynical head.

Well I have. And I might be hotly in agreement with Men In Black’s Agent K (Tommy Lee Jones to those who have no idea what I’m referring to).

I thought at first that it was a miracle that I could ever feel the overwhelmingly wonderful emotion of “in love,” and I was surprisingly grateful. But now I take it back. It has made me lonelier than I thought possible. I am pickier than I thought imaginable. And I can’t go back to the way I was before.

I am stuck. Really stuck. And if there’s one thing I hate most, it’s being stuck.

So what do I do? I distract myself with unending work. When the unending work runs out, I distract myself with numerous friends, surrounding myself with as many companions as possible to hide the imminent isolation I would feel. That works for a good while, until my brain realizes the tricks I’m pulling on it and drags me back to reality again.

Then I distract myself with books. Books on top of books. Deep books filled with rich descriptions of worlds I will never smell, touch, or see.

I know what I’m doing. Because I am more than scared to admit that I am so human. More than scared to give my feelings a sense of reality. They, my feelings, scare me more than a demon or devil created in the Bible, more than the evil things that walk this earth, more than sharks and zombies that can eat people, and much more than death. It is they that I try so hard every day to smother into submission.

I bought a book on a friend’s request. Fifty Shades of Grey. I thought maybe the sexual nature of this book would give me the distraction I needed most: distracting the heavy, despairing loneliness which threatened to suffocate me. The book did nothing for me. And so I am left with my nights alone. Nights where my brain tries desperately to entertain me and keep me company with fantasies and pleasuring images. Dreams of seductive vampires, evil and beautiful, drawing me in with every last moment of my own breath. Dreams of the Phantom of the Opera, the true Phantom who sings to me, and hypnotizes me until I melt to his will, ‘til I succumb to his whim. Dreams of dominating men who demand my obedience simply through their tenderness.

I am craving. And it feels like I am tearing myself in two. Because I am not the type of girl to find companionship through a quick twenty-four hour time period. I am not interested in just a whimsical night with a stranger. It is my curse that I had experienced love once.

And this is why I am on Agent K’s side. It is not better to have loved and lost. Because if you have, then you must be me, lying alone in your bed, hugging your cat, or your pillow, burying yourself beneath your covers, and hoping somewhere, someday, someone will be holding you again, wanting you again, and loving you without the losing.

Year 2 is done, Year 3, here we go!

September 9, 2011May 31, 2018 Christanna RowaderLeave a comment

Driving to Simi Valley on September 10th, 2009.

Tomorrow marks my two year anniversary with California. And, boy, did it fly. The first year was filled with fun, friends, and my romance with the Terminator. I had two internships with a PR and management company. I also did two shows that year: the monologue show Sex, Relationships, and Sometimes Love by Joelle Arqueros and Cabrillo Music Theatre’s production of Cinderella. During my first year, I was still getting the handle of the Los Angeles freeway system (mainly their illogically random on and off ramps) and trying to make new friends seemed more difficult since I wasn’t in school. A fellow coworker at the time even had said, “You won’t make it one year here.” He was drunk when he’d said that, so I didn’t take him seriously. In any case, those kinds of comments only make me fight harder to prove they are wrong.

By the end of the first year, I felt in limbo. I’m a very impatient person and, because of this, I felt I hadn’t accomplished anything. I had to keep reminding myself that these things take time, that I can’t become successful within just ONE year. My relationship with the Terminator ended in the summer as well. He had been the only close friend I had made, so the loss brought me back to square one when concerning friendships.

And so I got to work. At the start of my second year, I ended up becoming very close with Anne from work. Shaneen, Alisha, and a few others became close as well. It was nice finally having some girlfriends.

The beginning of my second year, I also discovered I was not invincible to the dangers of dating, learning the lesson quickly never to get drunk alone with a guy you barely knew.

Then a week later, still fuming over my bad date, a few of my girlfriends made me go out to a lounge bar, Bogie’s, to lighten my spirits. Although, a bar filled with men was the last place I wanted to be. But that’s when I met Mr. Georgia, a producer for television. And so began a multitude of whimming adventures! My first private jet experience, my first Las Vegas high-life experience, the Magic Castle, the Getty Museum, Dom Perignon champagne. There was always something new to look forward to. Needless to say, I got swept.

Then there were those tender moments that really swept me. The kind that made you feel like you never felt that way before. You know, the “oh my gosh, is this it?” feeling. I can honestly say I had never had that feeling before, so it definitely took me by surprise. This was also my first experience dating a man who already had had a previous married life and a child. My mother had always told, from experience, to not get involved with divorced men, that my life would be very hard and almost unbearable. But then again, my parents’ romance is the foundation to how I look at my own romance. Although they had a rough first 8 or 9 years, they have one of the happiest, most passionate and romantic marriages I’ve ever known. I want that.

Half way through my second year, I experienced the “in love” feeling. In the past, it used to be inconceivable to me. So, with much consult with my mother, I allowed myself to admit that I was in love with Mr. Georgia. I like to mark that moment in my personal history. It was so unreal, I couldn’t believe it was happening.

Then it was gone. Not the feeling, but the relationship. Timing, I suppose…Mr. Georgia did not feeling the same way…it could be a number of things. I don’t think I’ll ever get a straight answer, but it doesn’t really matter in the end. I’m just happy I got to experience that used-to-be enigma of a feeling. Also helps with my acting. Another experience I can add to my list.

From their, I suddenly became audition addicted. I was still healing from the loss of Mr. Georgia, but it lit a fire under me to find as many distractions I could grab. And what more of a perfect distraction is getting into a show. Not only would it keep me busy, but it’s a part of my career path!

That’s when I landed Funny Girl at the Downey Civic Light Opera. I played a small role named Polly. It was a lot of fun, but was a hell of a drive. I experienced my first L. A. traffic too. Let me just say…agony.

At this time, I also reconnected with the Terminator. I had always wished we could be friends and hated that we never talked anymore. So I called him up, told him just that, and we are good friends to this day.

On a sadder note, my Papa passed away while I was in rehearsals for Funny Girl. The smartest man in the world had finally checked out. I still have a hard time realizing I will never see him again, as if he’s still waiting for me to come visit in Arizona.

Right after Funny Girl ended, I was cast in Cabrillo Music Theatre’s The Sound of Music. But before I went into rehearsals for that, I got signed up for singing in a concert, “Salute to Valor,” in Oahu, Hawaii. I had never been to Hawaii, so another whim could now be checked off my list.

After I returned from Hawaii, my schedule was full with work and rehearsals. I started losing my close relationships with Anne and my other girlfriends. Going from work to rehearsal in one day almost EVERY day made me ache for alone time. So I was on a hiatus from the parties and “girl time” hangs.

I was infected with the career virus.

It was all I could think about. When was the next audition? What songs do I need to have ready? New headshots, I needed new headshots! I had a system. Work, work out, rehearsal and/or audition, bed. I even switched to organic and natural foods. THAT was a huge switch for me!

As soon as The Sound of Music closed, I lined up two more auditions. Both I got callbacks for and both were seriously considering me to be apart of their shows. One was an Equity house, something I’ve been needing to get into. The other was Cabrillo again, but I was up for a lead role this time.

By the end of my second year, I finally got my first lead in a musical in California. Tomorrow marks the beginning of my third year, and I start rehearsals for the role of Grace Farrell in Annie. I feel incredibly blessed.

And as happy as I am with how busy I’m keeping myself on my career path, I am much more alone in it. My friendships with many people have faded in result of my busy schedule. What bewilders me more is that I actually LIKE being alone. This applies to romantic relationships as well. I’ve found them to be more stressful than they are worth, that they aren’t any fun, and they get in the way of my freedom. Being a girl who used to wish for a boyfriend every night until she finally got one at the young age of 21, after having three serious relationships, I definitely take my wishes back. By the end of my second year, I have discovered that I am NOT any good in relationships.

Currently…

Cause, well, who knows what the future has in store…

And with THAT said, considering all the incredible adventures I embarked on during my second year, I can’t WAIT to find out what my third year will be like! Romance, heartbreak, career success and career failure, earthquakes and tsunamis, the end of the world, who knows?…I expect it all! The adventures of being alive…

A Hawaii Whim

July 15, 2011May 31, 2018 Christanna Rowader1 Comment

Four months ago, my parents were discussing their Hawaii trip with concert leader Ed Lojeski. The trip would consist of four rehearsals and two large choral and orchestral performances for the Fourth of July. It was a concert tribute for the men who died at Pearl Harbor, and all the men in service to this day, called Salute to Valor. My parents, along with choral groups from all over the country, were to be singing on the battle ship USS Missouri.

And, as usual, I would not be able to join them. My parents have been all over the world. I have never stepped outside of the North American continent. It was only a month before the time of events did I know I was suddenly signed up with a plane ticket and a book full of music with a large solo waiting inside.

So my whim to Hawaii began. I finally was going to step off North America and fly half way down the planet to one of the most popular vacation islands ever.

My parents had arrived on the island a day before, but as soon as I arrived, we dived into Pina Coladas, Lava Flows, and Mai Tais. Once rehearsal started, we wouldn’t be able to “party” too much. But I think I squeezed in as much as I could. Winking smile

Being that Pearl Harbor is located in Oahu, I didn’t get to experience the tropical island feeling as much as I would have liked. But I shouldn’t complain. On one of our days off, we did get to go snorkeling in Hanauma Bay. Exactly where I wanted to be!

It took me sixty seconds to get used to breathing under water before I turned into the water baby I used to be, and started hunting coral sharks. Didn’t find any though. They were sleeping beneath me, hidden by the coral. But I did get to play mermaid with the other fishies, one of them eyeing me oddly before disappearing. I wanted so badly to go deeper into the caves, but knew without gloves and other proper gear that I had better refrain from my adventurous instincts. Probably not a good idea to get hurt before the concerts.

I did find a ring, though, amidst the coral. Smile

Gave it to Mom.

Later, we explored Pearl Harbor’s USS Arizona Memorial and the USS Missouri. Also, we enjoyed being entertained by the luau show, The Creation, while we drank Mai Tais with Ed Lojeski and TV host Wink Martindale. Definitely had a full day of swimming, exploring, eating, drinking, and watching gloriously tanned and ripped Polynesian men in skirts dance barbarically…oh, sigh.

The rest of the week was spent in rehearsals with tropical dinner breaks. I hate rehearsals, but I can’t complain when they’re on a luscious island. The first concert was inside a large theater. This was where I sang my solo, “O My Love Is Like a Red, Red Rose”…phew, what a title! I had some big shoes to fill with this song considering it was my dad’s staple. He was the only one who could sing it and blow people out of the water. But because of Sweeney Todd where Dad played Judge Turpin, his voice had gone to the bass land and couldn’t warm back up to tenor heaven in just a week. In order to sing “Red Rose,” you have to be able to float notes. So he said, “You got it, baby. Do it well.” Great…

As intimidating as it was to replace Dad, the audience seemed to really like it, giving a roaring cheer as their response. Dad still won’t let it go… I’m on the hunt for a recording. It’s not very often that I actually feel proud of one of my performances, so when I do, I’d kill for a copy.

The second concert was performed at the stern of the USS Missouri, followed by fireworks over the ocean and accompanied by the Pacific Navy Band, who were incredible! And MORE Mai Tai’s were to be had!

All in all, I sang my very best, Mai Tai’ed myself out, wore skirts and sundresses every day, and remained braless for the entire trip.

And I DID get leid… Winking smile

Being twenty-six. Going where no twenty-something has gone before.

June 24, 2011May 31, 2018 Christanna Rowader4 Comments

There have been only a few stages of my life where I noticed a massive physical and mental change occur. At thirteen I knew my life from there on out would be hugely different. At eighteen, I knew my childhood had gone and I panicked. I truly felt I wouldn’t survive as an adult. The transition was terrifying.

But I made it to twenty-six. And, again, I sense another major shift in my body and mind. I have confidence now that I can survive the adult world and be happy in it. At twenty-six, working is addicting, even though I am worn out faster. Going out is less appealing as it is to going home and spending time with myself. Of course, this is surely the result of being ridiculously busy.

At twenty-six, all-nighters are no longer easy to do. Coffee no longer keeps me awake, but remains a comfort in the morning.

At twenty-six, I finally obtained a Victoria Secret body, something I had been obsessed with and working on since I was sixteen. And, although my body is stronger than it has ever been, it hurts more. My lower back is now a constant pain and my right knee is weak. Vitamins have become a part of my daily life. And I have high-cholesterol, shocking news that somehow made me feel old. And yet, at twenty-six, I’m still arrogant and carefree.

I’m much more curious and brave at this stage. I want more and more to go where I have never gone before and experience new things. If I can live through it, I want to do it.

Finally I feel a confidence in myself I had never had before. My beliefs and opinions on how to live one’s life is richer and more well-rounded than the days of being naïve and close-minded. I am more fascinated with the way people react and feel, and I’m always searching for newer information. I still feel like I haven’t learned enough.

Emotion is something I have FINALLY been able to make sense of and control. I can rationalize better than I’ve ever had. When I don’t like someone, or they me, I can accept and be okay with it. Because it is impossible to be universally liked. However, treating those you don’t get along with graciously is important.

I have FINALLY learned to be patient, something I’ve been working on ALL my life. That’s an accomplishment I’m really happy about.

I am no longer in need of being needed by a man, as if I thought that gave me some purpose in my life before. It really didn’t.

On the other hand, I have also for the first time, experienced what it was like to be in love, something that had eluded me before. I lost it, but I crave to have it again. Although, strangely, I have no interest in looking for it, I am genuinely excited about finding it. I know now that I have the capability to feel that way, and it is incredible!

At twenty-six, I have come to accept my obsessive compulsive behavior as a unique and intriguing quality, although I may be the only one who feels this way.

And, even though I feel like I am still sixteen years old, in that youthful, playful sort of way, I am now accepted and taken seriously by the adult world. Something that I’ve yearned for most of my life.

Probably one of the most shocking discoveries I had come to realize was that I now want a child. Being someone who never liked or wanted children, I am still puzzled by this sudden change. Maybe by twenty-seven, I’ll go back to normal.

And maybe the reason I’m writing this is to put a mark in time so that when I’m old, I will remember. Hopefully this blog will still exist somewhere in cyberspace by then.

At twenty-six, I still don’t know where I’m going in my life, but instead of being scared by it, I am thrilled. Someone once told me their twenty-sixth year was a good one. I got a feeling, they’re gonna be right.

Awkward Exes Serving Awkward Exes

April 28, 2011May 31, 2018 Christanna Rowader5 Comments

Being a server sometimes means you’re gonna have to serve tables that know either too little or too much about you. In my case, I have on occasion had to wait on my ex-boyfriends’ exes. Not just exes, but the women who had broken my ex-boyfriends’ hearts. Which would make them the “big love” my boyfriends had lost at some point not too long after. And these women always seem to know who I am.

I’m starting to confuse myself, and probably you, so let me throw some examples out there.

Years ago, after I recently broke up with my first boyfriend, Cameron, I had to wait on his high school sweetheart, someone Cameron had a hard time letting go of after they had ended their relationship. Needless to say, it was someone he had loved hard for and I knew this while dating him. They had also kept in touch during my relationship with Cameron, always making me wonder if he was ever over her. It didn’t really matter anyway, considering Cameron and I didn’t work out. But what was awkward was that I knew certain private and personal things about her and she definitely knew certain private and personal things about me.

So when I announced my name (which is incredibly unique) and that I’d be taking care of her, I knew the smile on her face was purely superficial and nervous. This, in turn, made me uncomfortable, so for the duration of her dining out, everything was tense.

Irony, I think. Why is it that the ex-love of my recent ex-boyfriend somehow ends up sitting in my section when I know they are entirely unaware of my existence at The Restaurant? Especially when we had never met before?

But it doesn’t get anymore awkward than having the ex-WIFE sitting at your table. THE ex-wife your ex-boyfriend talked to you about for hours, telling you things she probably wouldn’t want you to know. And, as far as you know, she might know things about you that you wouldn’t want HER to know. And not only is it an ex-wife, but a recent one at that. Tricky, tricky…

I had never met her before, but had heard plenty. I also knew she was aware of my existence, but it was hard to say if she could recognize me by looks alone. I knew she would know my name, though. So, as I watched her tiny figure gracefully sit, looking with those extremely arched eyebrows, puffed out cheekbones and lips, I had to consciously restrain myself from going in multiple directions like a chicken with its head chopped off. For a split second, I felt guilty. Maybe it was because I had felt like a mistress when dating this man. Being hidden from his personal life always made me feel like I was in an affair and that if the wife found out, I would be in huge trouble. But it was his EX-wife. And he was now my ex-boyfriend (or more like a whim/fling/situation #2…refer back to situation #1 for clarification). “Boyfriend” doesn’t seem to fit this particular guy anyhow.

Still doesn’t change the fact that it was nerve-wracking. I swiftly passed by the table without greeting the ex and her date, and grabbed Ethel, another server, saying, “I can’t take this table. It’s HIS ex.” But really, I could have; however,considering it was dead in the restaurant, I knew Ethel could take it off my hands. I just didn’t feel like testing out my acting skills at that particular moment. I was just happy she didn’t walk in with her daughter. I could just feel the bile rise up my throat if that had happened. He did such a good job at hiding me from his daughter, how ironic would it have been if I got to meet her through his ex. Not that I wanted to be hidden, but he felt it best for his daughter not to know about me. Again, the Mistress title being labeled onto me. And again, I want to vomit. If only I was a Super Ex-Girlfriend, I wouldn’t feel so pathetic… Yes...this is more like it.

There was always another reason to vomit, and it was because I knew he had really loved his ex-wife. She was his “big love” just like Cameron’s high school sweetheart was his “big love.” And both ended up in my section. Years apart, but in two separate states, and yet still the same irony. Still the same awkwardness. Because, I too, was an ex. And I hate serving exes.

The Five Stages of Death

April 7, 2011May 31, 2018 Christanna Rowader2 Comments

Broken Heart Emo …as my friend Sarah calls it. I call it something else, but hers sounds cooler, so I’m borrowing it. They go as follows:

1. Depression

2. Denial

3. Anger

4. Acceptance

5. Happiness

These are the things you go through after a broken heart. Aw...

I like to break down my healing process in these simple steps. As I go through each one, I get really excited when I get closer to number 5. Therefore, I have SOMETHING to look forward to, because, as we all know, there is NOTHING to look forward to when you have a broken heart. Hilarious!

I already passed through number 1, Depression. Hate that stage the most. Always feels like the hours last for days, so you try to sleep them away, hoping that, when you wake, you’ll be at stage number 5, but no luck as you realize, waking, that it’s still day 1, stage 1. And sleeping doesn’t help either because all you have are nightmares. So you’re pretty much screwed during this stage.

Then, suddenly, stage 2 appears out of nowhere. This stage usually comes in different forms depending on the situation and person. You can either deny being hurt, find a rebound, deny that you ever felt anything at all, beg the person back thinking that it can be fixed, etc. All these things are representations of the heart not fully accepting the reality of the situation. Also a pretty crappy stage. Humiliating in many respects. Thank goodness I’m not in this one anymore.

STAGE 3!!! I like this one. For some odd reason, anger is probably one of the most satisfying feelings for me. I feel exhilarated, powerful, and strong. I feel like I can take the pain I was feeling and shove it up someone’s ass. TAKE THAT, Pain! You can’t touch me! (Don’t know why I consider this odd…really isn’t. Anger is a lot of fun.) Went through this one for a while. Moved on, though.

Stage 4, Acceptance. This one is kinda sad. Poignant, really. It’s like the ending of a really good romance movie where it didn’t work out, but, like Hollywood’s style, they leave it open-ended and somehow positive. But the acceptance stage is a good sign. It means you’re almost there. Almost back to normal. Almost back to not giving a crap about anyone, or how you are as a person. Back to being the one and only YOU that has no connections or responsibilities to anyone but yourself.

And this leads me to number 5, Happiness. Where you only think of yourself, and your life, and the friends and family that are apart of it, the people you choose to be apart of it. And this makes you happy. You no longer care about what brought you down in the first place. Happiness brings Death to everything else you felt. Death to the broken heart. Death to the depression. Death to the denial. Death to anger and acceptance. So you laugh. You laugh so hard because you haven’t in so long.

I laughed so hard tonight, my head was pounding and my side was splitting. For no apparent reason, I laughed insanity. My friend Anne thought I was on drugs. I exclaimed, “No! I AM the drug!” And laughed some more. Because you survived. Because you wasted. Because you mourned over something that wasn’t dead. Because you felt sad over something that wasn’t apart of your life. Because you lied to yourself. Because you believed in someone else’s lies. Because you were gullible. Because you were stupid. Because you were everything you didn’t want to be. Because you know you’re gonna go through it again.

Because you were human. And lived.

I like stage 5.

Wolf

April 5, 2011May 31, 2018 Christanna Rowader1 Comment

I prefer wolves for men.

Let me explain.

I’ve always been afraid of the “wolfman” since I was a child, and yet, always fascinated. It was when I had first seen Universal’s Wolfman, the original, and I couldn’t wipe the image from my mind. This man-wolf tried to kill the woman he loved, because it was depicted in this film that the Wolf was pure evil.

Not so, I have decided, after watching the film Wolf, starring Jack Nicholson. Wolves are scientifically considered to be protective and loyal to their chosen mate. Wolf is a perfect example of this.

As much as I know of myself, at the ripe age of 25, I am very headstrong and stubborn, not to mention slightly violent (this is something I am able to contain, of course, THANK YOU, CONSCIENCE)…can I just say that if I were an animal, I would definitely be a WOLF. Therefore, I’m looking for my Wolfman.

Mind you, not a bad wolf. Bad wolves need taming. Bad wolves kill, ravage, are unstable, and probably have rabies.

Good wolves are protective, strong, loving, brave, and, most importantly, loyal. They protect their mate and the cubs they bear.

I am a good wolf. Although I’ve been afraid of wolfmen as a child, I now am attracted to them. The strength, courage, and loyalty is everything. And I give back these qualities to those I feel need it, and therefore, hope for it in return.

I am looking for a wolf. A good wolf.

Grr.

Xanna's Journal

Tag: human