Perfection.

I hate relationships. Or rather they hate me because I try so hard to be perfect in them. Because in everything I do, I am a perfectionist. Unfortunately. When I make my first mistake in life, it’s okay. I say to myself, “Well that was interesting. Don’t do that again.”

But when I make the SAME mistake again, not good. Then it’s like I’m slapping myself sideways, exclaiming, “What the hell is wrong with you?! Didn’t you get it the first time???”

I treat my relationships the same way. My first boyfriend was a series of trials and tribulations, a rollercoaster ride lasting two years, so that when it finally failed, I could look back on it knowing what NOT to do next time. My “learning experience,” I like to call it.

After my first relationship, I had become hardened. I told myself I wouldn’t fall in love until it was smart and safe. And as time went by, it seemed as though I didn’t even know what being in love really was or what it felt like. My feelings had dissolved somehow. It was as if I couldn’t connect to anything. And I didn’t have a care in the world. Icy, I would say.

Then I met the Terminator. He was a wonderful person, kind and caring, always thinking of others before himself. He treated me with respect and gentleness. And when I told him that I couldn’t feel anything, he said, “It’s okay,” and held me tightly. Months went by with me analyzing my every move, thought, and feeling as I became closer with the Terminator. I am a firm believer in following my gut, but only after thoroughly thinking through every possible outcome my gut-reaction could create. At some point I realized I really cared about the Terminator and told him I loved him. But it wasn’t being “in love.” I still felt disconnected to that feeling and even admitted that I didn’t think I’d EVER know how to feel that way. Needless to say, our relationship ended quietly and calmly.

Unaffected by the failure of my second relationship, I moved on feeling strong and confident that I was making all the right decisions, that the end of the Terminator and I was the right move. I didn’t make any of the same mistakes that I had with my first boyfriend. It was a good sign. I liked feeling impervious to the sorrows everyone else was dealing with. Feeling nothing actually made me feel happy.

And then I met Mr. Georgia. This older man knew how to have a good time. Unbelievably open with his thoughts and ways he felt about me, answering every complicated question I threw at him, and being romantic in ways I never imagined, needless to say, I got swept off my feet. Literally, if you count the jet plane ride. There was also, deep inside my gut, a twisting sensation I had never felt before. It happened every time I knew I was going to see Mr. Georgia. It made me bouncy and nervous, and I couldn’t get a hold of myself. It was ridiculous. So I analyzed it for months, trying to understand why I felt so strangely. I had a bad feeling. I had a feeling I was falling in love.

This was not a good sign. Because I knew that if I was starting to feel this way, my perfectly constructed wall was crumbling. I kept my mouth shut for the most part, afraid of scaring off Mr. Georgia. It would peek out a few times whenever I said, “I love your hair” or “I love the crease on your cheek” or “I love…THAT…about you,” when I really wanted to shout out, “I love YOU, just you, dammit!!!”Marianne and Willoughby

After thinking about it for a while, imagining all the different outcomes if I told him how I felt, I had decided I had nothing to lose. If I told him, two things would happen: he would feel the same way, OR, he wouldn’t. Either way, I would have my answer. So I did it. I told him and he responded nicely. But he didn’t return the feeling. Although he said some very confusing things. “It was everyday implied but never declared,” Marianne Dashwood said in Sense and Sensibility when Elinor asked if Willoughby ever told Marianne he loved her.

Well, this was my problem. I thought it was safe and I was pretty confident in the way I felt, so I went ahead and let my wall fall. And Mr. Georgia did not feel the same way. That’s the problem with falling in love. You gotta be ready for a broken heart.Willoughby

I thought I did everything right, analyzed my every move, my every thought and feeling, and I still ended up alone. So my perfectionism cannot be perfected…because I can’t seem to control my feelings and I certainly can’t control someone else’s feelings. My friend Marilyn said she was happy I finally let my guard down and allowed myself to fall in love. “It’s a good thing,” she said, “Please don’t let this bring your wall back up.”

It doesn’t feel good though. But so is life. And I’m back to building my wall. It’s amazing how fast it goes up. I guess that’s a good thing. Means I’ve perfected something in my life.

Except that being a perfection is my FIRST mistake. So there’s the rub.

Auditions, Auditions, Aw come on already!

I have been auditioning…A LOT. Which is great! This is exactly what you’re supposed to do when you wanna be an actor or singer. How many times did our professors in music or theater school drill into us that doing 100 auditions will land us 1 gig? I happened to grow up this way too, following my dad around as a child in Chicago, hearing stories of all the rejection he went through every time he auditioned. But I saw him succeed and so I knew his hard work paid off.

Now I’m on the same path. Instead of moving back to Chicago or New York City where theater is rich and alive, I moved to California…where theater is, well, surviving. Don’t get me wrong, there are great companies here, just not that many. And not many auditions to jump on either. Let me just show you all the things I went after these past few months…

UNIVERSAL STUDIO’S JAPAN WICKED Not me.

CATSDefinitely not me.

THE FANTASTICKSWas me at one point, but not this time.

THE PRODUCERSWish I could be.

HAIRSPRAYAlmost me.

That’s about it. I’m also doing this sans agent. If I had an agent, I’d be getting into a hell of a lot more auditions. And speaking of agent/more auditions, this would also assist me greatly in getting into film and television auditions, a whole nother beast I want to conquer. I once said as a young 13 year old, “I want to do film because Dad already did the theater scene.” I just remembered that right now as I’m writing this… But CAN’T do it without an agent because they’re the ones that can sweet talk the casting director into seeing you when you’re a NOBODY. Like me. Slightly frustrating, let me just tell ya.

Now, of course, I will admit that I have been able to get a few auditions with low-budget short films, but not enough to actually bump me up to 100 auditions. I want 100. GIVE ME 100!!!

—Side-track: just remembered I had a crazy dream last night about being an announcer for the Oscars and my dress was getting caught everywhere and then I couldn’t read the teleprompter so I was all stressed out, but somehow didn’t care too much cause I kept joking around, but then I forgot what I was announcing in the first place. Best Leading Actress? Leading Actor? Crap.

ANYHOW! Moving on.

Nearly every audition I did went really, REALLY well. This is why it gets frustrating because when you know you did your best, and even the panel of auditors genuinely compliment you, but you STILL don’t get cast, it might drive you crazy. But not me. I’m immune, like, vulcanized.

Here is a breakdown:

WICKED I got called back twice. Had the auditors smile and clap after I was done, but didn’t make it to the third round. NEXT!

CATS I sang well, but didn’t stick around for the dance call cause it was freezing outside and I had already been waiting for 5 hours in the cold to sing, so I wasn’t thrilled about waiting for another 2 just to dance when I know I’m already not a very strong dancer…Mr. Georgia already scolded me on that one. NEXT!

THE FANTASTICKS I sang really well, also got asked to sing a part of the show, got called back to read, I did well at that too and the director asked me to stick around, but then when the monitor called out the girls’ names who will stay for another read, my name DIDN’T get called. Rough. FORGET ABOUT IT!

THE PRODUCERS was with a company I already worked with. Again I belted my little heart out, looked hot, and even overheard the artistic director, who knew me, whisper to the director that I was “very talented.” Got asked to sing a little more to show off my range. NO callback. Ugh. But that’s probably because when the director asked if I knew how to tap dance, I hesitated and said, “kinda.” Bad, girl, bad! MOVING ON!

HAIRSPRAY was actually a callback resulting from the season audition I did for PCPA. Season, meaning, you audition for more than one show. I got called back for one of the leading roles, Amber, in HAIRSPRAY. My original audition was very successful. The producer said he really liked me, then asked if I could dance. This time I said yes with no hesitation. Then he asked, “do you consider yourself a dancer or a mover.” I hesitated something like 2 seconds, but then quickly answered “dancer!” He nodded, saying, “Good, that’s what I wanna hear.” So then I got called back, barely survived the dance audition (ha!), but then sang riDICulously which resulted in the director coming up to me and shaking my hand before I left. Probably because he thought I sucked at the dance audition, felt bad for me, and then was surprised I had any talent at all. I haven’t heard anything from this one yet, but rehearsals don’t start until the summer, so it’s hard to forget about it.

That is it for now.

So why did I move to California? Well, cause the weather is freakin awesome! AND because I really DO want to work on film, in film, a writer for film…direct my own film, create music for film, edit my own film, produce my own film, model for my…nah just kidding.

Gotta say though, when you do as many auditions as you’re supposed to, you got to FORGET about them and move on to the next. Cause you will be rejected 99 times. But the 100th time will be a good one. I’m not even close to 99. I’m, like, at 20, so I gotta a long way to go. Thank goodness my boyfriend, or manfriend (cause he’s way up there in manhood, but perhaps boyfriend fits better cuz he’s so…boyish), is good at lighting fires under my…butt……………

Sorry, that sounds SO wrong. Let me rephrase: Mr. Georgia is really good at pep talks! Ha!

Goodbye old year, Hello NEW Year!!!

I just finished reading last year’s post on the coming of 2010, The Sequel: 2010, and still marvel at how much can happen in one short year! 2010 is over, but boy was it interesting. Although this year wasn’t nearly as epic or life-changing as 2009, it still remains memorable. If there is ever a year which is not, I gotta say, that would suck. I don’t do boring.

To recap, 2009 was filled with an unwanted ambulance ride to an unwanted hospital visit, therapy with an awesomely sarcastic therapist, whimming adventures with my San Diego Whimclosest friends, the start of this blog, internships, short-short hair, parties, graduation, moving to California, Red Carpet events, and meeting the Terminator. By the end of the year, my resolution was to either find a way to quit BJ’s or fall in love again. Or both! Did either of them come to? Hmmm…

2010 wasn’t as dramatic as ‘09, thank goodness! But it was still entertaining. At the beginning, I had decided to be in a relationship with the Terminator, the man I had been seeing consistently since the first week I had moved to California. I had also been going on a lot of auditions for film and stage, but nothing catching until the summer when I got cast in Roger’s and Hammerstein’s Cinderella. I met some wonderful people and it felt incredible to be on the stage again. Earlier in the year, I had been saddened about not making any close friends. I had the Terminator and his friends. But his friends weren’t really my friends; I was the “girlfriend,” someone who would eventually disappear. I had people at work that I liked, but couldn’t seem to find the right connection.

Then the Terminator and I broke up, for no other reason but that it wasn’t going Red Carpet Eventanywhere. Thankfully I was in Cinderella so I could keep busy. I was also working a LOT! That’s when things started to take shape. You know, that feeling where you felt like you finally found home? A new girl named Alisha moved here from Las Vegas. She and I instantly clicked, our personalities and way of life being agreeable. I also got a new roommate, as the old one moved out. Her name was Monique. When she and I met, it was like we had known each other for a long time. Instant friends, we were. I was finally making a good group of close friends.

First boyfriendAlso, epically enough, I had finally reconnected with my famous ex-boyfriend, Chris Cameron, putting everything else at rest. The thing of inspiration: horoscope prediction. Or whatever you call it, cause I really don’t believe in that stuff…Go figure.

Speaking of boyfriends, near the end of this year, I have officially had a THIRD boyfriend. Third times a charm, ya know… Um, sure.

The funny thing is how we met. Here I was out with my girlfriends, being forced out actually because I was in hate-men mode. I had had another new experience with a date that went horribly wrong a week earlier. Needless to say, I didn’t want to be touched by another guy for a while.

So here I was at Bogie’s, a lounge bar in Westlake, where my girlfriends wanted to teach me on how to use men and get free drinks out of them. Low and behold a football game was on TV, and I decided to yell out FIRST DOWN randomly. Because that had become a new saying by me as of late. A handsome man standing next to me at the bar asked, “Do you watch football?”

I glance at him and say, “No. I just yell out ‘first down’ any time they move.”

He laughed, but I turned my back on him and started talking to my friends. One of them frowned at me and said, “Turn back and say hello. At the very least, get a drink out of him.”

I became irritated. I didn’t want to play this game. In fact, I didn’t want to have to socialize with anyone there, especially a man. Even if it were Ryan Reynolds who had said hello, I would have ignored him…

Ryan ReynoldsWell, okay. Maybe not Ryan Reynolds, cause that would have been AWESOME!

I can’t seem to really remember the order of things, but somehow I ended up having a full on conversation with the man I named Mr. Georgia. He seemed normal enough. Winking smile

Eventually we switched “business cards,” lol! How dorky is that! And by the end of the week, I was flying with him, and two comedian celebrities (names have been removed for privacy reasons) on a private jet to Arizona. If that’s not a whim, I don’t know what is.

I had no idea Mr. Georgia was actually interested in me until he asked me out for dinner. Being that I’m a whimmer, of course I agreed. And I’ve been with him since.

Now, to come back to my new year’s resolution for 2010. I wanted to quit BJ’s or fall in love. Well, unfortunately I have not been able to find a good way to quit BJ’s. And as for falling in love… Let me put it this way. For the first time ever, my mom is actually interested in talking with me about my boyfriend and about anything! She literally calls just to talk about Mr. Georgia. I asked why, and she said, “Because you talk differently about him. You’re actually happy.”Las Vegas

Marilyn, one of my best friends from college, says I’ve fallen in love, my mom says I just need to say it aloud, Monique, my roommate, says I’m smitten and I glow when I talk about him. Although I won’t be the one to admit anything that makes me vulnerable, I guess you could argue that one of my resolutions was fulfilled, if you count what everyone else is saying.

OH I ALMOST FORGOT!!!! I got rid of the hybrid car owned by my dad and purchased my very first car! Now I am fully independent from my parents ENTIRELY! Now that’s epic.

So what about 2011’s resolution? Hmm, that’s a tough one. Oh I got!!! Just came to me. To find a good agent to represent me and send me on more auditions, ones that I can’t get by myself. At least that’s something I can have more control over.

Happy new year! Another round of adventures are coming.

A real-life Pretty Woman in Vegas

When walking into a 3 bedroom suite at the very top of the Hard Rock Hotel in Las Vegas, it’s hard not to gawk when someone like me has never experienced “lush living.” It’s even more jaw-dropping when you realize you’re walking into the suite full of makeup artists and three gorgeous models with Funny Man and his business partner, my boyfriend Mr. Georgia, beside me.

Just minutes earlier, we arrived by private jet, which I took a nap on, then to the hotel by a private van with a special security driver. It felt very…exclusive. Once we settled into our suite, Funny Man was hungry and so was I. Funny Man’s personal makeup artist ordered room service for us. Trying to stay out of the way of all the hustle, I sat quietly at the dining table watching the models get ready while Mr. Georgia continued doing business. I remember hearing one of the models asking Mr. Georgia how his wife was and hearing him stumble over the answer of divorce. Thought that was funny. I bet they were wondering who the hell I was, the not-so-Hollywood, not-so-done-up, average girl.

An hour later, Funny Man did his convention show to promote the new slot machines and then we returned to the suite to ready for the cocktail party. The models got touched up, then the makeup artists were nice enough to play with my face and hair as well. The suite quickly filled with other guests eagerly waiting to meet Funny Man. People were enjoying freshly rolled cigars and chilled cocktails. I was still readying inside the privacy of the master bedroom. I had felt so not-glamorous earlier that I couldn’t wait to pretty myself. I layered my skin with Vanilla Berry lotion and perfume, slipped into my silver mini-dress, and donned my brand new pink-gold pumps. I slipped out of the bedroom and the first person to see me was one a woman rolling the cigars. A wide smile spread across her face and she beamed, “Oh you are so beautiful!” S7303037This obviously made me feel really good. Being around those gorgeous models can really affect you to try to look just as stunning. I felt like a princess at that point, especially when the other models were so complimentary. But I think the best moment was when I was looking for Mr. Georgia among the crowd of people in the suite, then caught his eye across the room and saw the biggest smile cross his face. I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman when Richard Gear finds her in the bar transformed from hooker to a beautiful lady. That was me, minus the hooker part.

Mr. Georgia took me to The Mix at the top of The Hotel for dinner after the cocktail party. That place had the most amazing food I have ever had. I had ordered scallops and as soon as one bite him my tongue, I actually did NOT want to swallow. I just wanted to keep the flavor of the food in my mouth for as long as possible. It was incredible. Then we went to see Cris Angel’s show and continued the rest of the night hopping clubs, finishing at Club Pure around 5am.

We returned to the Hard Rock suite, having it all to ourselves. At this point, I had decided to take on an Australian accent inspired by the 2 Australian girls who ran into us randomly at the Playboy Club, saying to us, “We just escaped two creepy guys who wanted us to go into the bathrooms with them. So we hid inside the girl’s bathroom for an hour…” Awesome.

Mr. Georgia and I took a load off in the incredible Jacuzzi inside our suite, which was conveniently placed right by the 2 stripper poles mounted in the living room. Who needs 2, I wonder? Hmmmm…

The next day, after sleeping until noon, Mr. Georgia did some business while I readied into a mini skirt and knee-high socks. We ate a hearty lunch and then Mr. Georgia took me to the Mall inside Caesars Palace. He likes to shop…a guy. This was the first time I ever saw Dior, Versace, Chanel and every other amazing designer up close. I walked into Versace and fell in love. This designer should design for me. I tried on a mustard yellow, sci-fi inspired, wool coat and died. Then the sales lady said, “Okay, now take it off…unless you want it. It’s only $5,000, not bad at all on a credit card.” Another Pretty Woman moment. I nearly choked, then decided to keep it on for one more minute just to annoy the lady.

We left Vegas later that night, exhausted but fulfilled. It was, so far, one of the most amazing and once-in-a-lifetime experiences I’ve had…SO FAR. Winking smile

Don’t smoke and eat chocolate…it’s gross.

So I am offically writing you drunk, or high, whichever is the excuse I will make up in the hour. I have decided, as I write this, to see how messed up my writing skills will be, grammar and spelling-wise if I don’t edit later. I have a feeling…it won’t be good.

I hav eto tell you all. Things are fantastic. I am dating an amazing person. He makes me feel like I can be completely myself, full force, without feleing the need to styfle, hold back or change anyhting about me. And that is amazing!! Also amazingly refreshing. Something new.

He is 47. I am 25. And we can talk about EVERYTHING!!!! Beat that, older woman nearing forty who said what would we ever have in common to actually talk about. He has just now recently dropped me off from the Elton John concert where I had a lot of champagne. For some resaons the whol night reminded me of New years Eve. But, it was n’t. So I had a lot of champagne. That took me five hundred times to write, champagne, the word, did. I also decidedd to puff on someone’s drag. I cannot believe I allowed myself with a stranger to do that. Who knows where that drags been?! Oh well. I won’t be dying anytime soon.

In any case, Elton and Leon were outstanding! I am also starving. And I have this nasty taste in the back of my tongue that reminds me of the weed I smoked an hour ago, plus my chocolate ice cream with peanut butter swirl. AMAAAZING! Except the after taste. Which taste like skunk versus chocolate. Gag. Don’t do that.

So, in conclusion. I quite enjoy my time with Mr. Georgia. I quite enjoy chococalet. And Elton John. Such a legend. But as a whimminarian, weed and chocolate = GET OFF MY TONGUE!!!!

Life dating someone 21 years older than you…

 

….is Fascinating! And so unpredictable.

Ever since I was in sixth grade, I recognized in me an attraction for older men. At this point in my age, I had a massive crush on my dad’s friend, Tully. Tully was in college and was around his early twenties. I knew my age and childlike appearance would never even give Tully a glance. I even thought that when I became an adult, I would still be considered too young for someone that much older than me.

In high school I had no attraction to anyone my own age. In fact, I would vocalize my opinion of boys versus men all the time, and how I could never date a “high school boy.” Ironically later, I would complain about how I was never asked out in high school…probably because I was much too open with my opinions. Hmm…silly me.

I never had much patience for boys because of their immaturity, their inability to get their shit together, and their selfish, childish views on relationships. Of course…this is to be expected of boys because they never really do “grow up” until their mid-30s. At least this is what my dad tells me:

“Don’t expect much from boys in their twenties,” Dad says, “because they don’t know any better yet. Give them a chance when they’re in their thirties or up. That’s when they’ve figured it out…usually.” And he tells me this because he admits that that was how he was in his twenties. Selfish, stubborn, and barely willing to be a team player in a relationship with a girl.

So far I haven’t said anything nice about boys. I want to point out that I have a lot of really great guy-friends. I love them and think they are great people. But I could never see myself in a relationship with them because of their age, both parts physical and mental. I get easily irritated when they don’t have a more mature view on the outside world. But I get irritated at anyone who can’t see outside themselves. It all adds up to how I personally want to be treated in a relationship. With respect, kindness, and thoughtfulness. Maybe my experiences with boys my age have not been very good, so I am jaded with these thoughts.

When I moved to California and began dating the Terminator, I was fascinated by the way he treated me with such caring attention. He was a real gentleman, humble and confident, kind. It took me aback once that he was ten years older than me. At the time, I thought a ten year gap was my limit.

Not anymore.

Now I’m dating a man twenty-one years older than me. And it’s like night and day. Man versus boy. Wildly unpredictable. Which actually makes me uneasy. When dating boys, I know what to expect; I know what they want. But men? There could be so many different things they want and I haven’t figured out the signs yet. With men, I don’t lose my patience, because they’ve got it together. With men, their sense of humor has matured, no longer silly and childish. And the deeper I analyze this, the more it makes sense how I would match better with an older man, than with my own age.

Most of my childhood was spent with adults at Christmas parties, closing show celebrations, fancy dinners with the cast of an opera, etc. I was brought up to be mature at five years old, to sit quietly in a restaurant full of adults drinking, laughing, and talking business.

It is no wonder I have no patience for unruly kids. I can’t stand them and think they should be smacked into maturity. At five, I remember sitting at a booth in a restaurant across from some other kid who kept climbing and whining everywhere. Even at five, I wanted to punch him and tell him to “sit still and shut up, stupid!”

If I do a breakdown comparison, it would go something like this: most boys still haven’t moved out of their mothers’ houses—men have lived alone for a while; boys don’t know where they’re going in life—men have already gone and done it; boys are still learning the ropes on how to have good sex—men have, well, A LOT of experience (they BETTER); boys don’t know quite how to treat girls—men treat them like women.

So I guess you can say I like skipping the boy phase and going straight for the man within.

Understand that my comparisons of boy versus man are simply general and come from personal experiences. I have met mature boys, or young men, and have met very immature older men (pricks, as I like to call them). So, all in all, it’s really based on character preference. And I’m also aware that there are some very stupid and immature girls out there. That’s why there’s a difference between a girl and a woman; a boy and a man. It may have nothing to do with age either, just the way one presents him/herself. I just find the differences fascinating.

One Year Down, More to Go…

I’m burning a Pumpkin Spice candle right now in honor of fall coming. So it’s been a full year since I’ve moved out to California and I’ve had some good experiences and bad. I feel like I’ve lived a whole different life from the start of the year to the end.

For the first part of the year, I had the Terminator and the group of friends that came along with him. Since he and I parted in the summer, that whole life disappeared, along with the friends I thought I was growing close to. And so is life.

For the last few months of the year, I have had numerous theater auditions. One of them I screwed up massively and wanted to punch myself in the face for that. The others, I received amazingly positive and encouraging reactions from the panels of auditors, but still managed to not get booked. And so is life, again. I’ll be covering more of this in a separate blog.

However, the good parts occurred near the end of the year when I finally made some close girlfriends. This was something I’d been wanting all year long, and knowing me, I’m a very impatient person. I always want it now, now, NOW! I’ve had a few exciting I'm the one on the far right.adventures with my girlies and a few not so pleasant ones. Let’s just say I’m really not a fan of clubs where random horny guys grab, pull, and push you everywhere you REALLY don’t want to go. If you don’t know my name, you can’t touch me. Nuff said.

Actually, not nuff said. So I did a stupid thing and went on a date with a guy I met in Santa Monica at a bar who couldn’t control his hands. Because I’m an idiot and always give people the benefit of the doubt, I think to myself, well a date won’t hurt. I was also being an idiot thinking I can control any situation I put myself into. WRONG! Of course I’d been warned about these situations before, but I’m 25. I think I’m invincible, not gonna lie. So this date turns into me being far too drunk, half passed out on the couch, then being lifted onto someone’s (oh yeah, Mr. Santa Monica’s) bed. The nasty occurs with me in that drunken stupor thinking it was a dream, and BAM! after it was over, my instincts kick in. You’re a little late, Instincts, way to be. I get the hell out of there, drunkenly stumbling down the stairs, cutting up the back of my heel on the way down, driving when I REALLY shouldn’t have been, and crying hysterically on the phone to my best friend Anthony. I made it safely home. But in the most stupid and dangerous way. So, needless to say, that’s not gonna happen again…but I’ve been wrong before.

Just gotta throw this in here: people make me sick. It’s called evolution! Let’s evolve into people bettering humanity, not fucking it over. And……nobody listens. Oh well, worth a shot.

My defense system results in me getting very angry. After my one night experience, days passed with me fuming. All I wanted to do was punch things. Guys blatantly staring at me at work, PUNCH! Older men making flirtatious jokes at me, PUNCH! My manager making a sexual comment, PUNCH! My buried memories of other guys making me feel threatened, AIR PUNCH PUNCH! And so is life…

But it shouldn’t be. And yet, nothing will ever change.

IN OTHER NEWS:

I made peace with my infamous ex, Chris Cameron, who was basically my first everything…well, almost.

Also met the producer and manager for Funny Man, Mr. Georgia (names have been removed for privacy reasons). Gonna be flying home this weekend on their private jet to see my parents. Some of you probably think I’m stupid for doing this, but it’s a major whim! And this blog is called Whimming Lessons after all. I’ll cover more on this later after this weekend. We’ll see if I was stupid or not.

Not even a year

So, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything. Many things have occurred since my last post. I have done numerous auditions for film and theater of all kinds. I also did an audition for the character Wonder Woman for Six Flags Magic Mountain. Warner Brothers and DC Comics had to approve of my appearance for Wonder Woman. Amazingly, I got the approval on top of being considered one of the best looking Wonder Women they’ve ever seen. If only they’d do a movie…

Also, I got cast in Roger’s and Hammerstein’s musical Cinderella. My first rehearsal was today and it felt great to be apart of a musical once again. Cinderella marks the first big show I’m apart of in California. Of course, I was in the monologue show called Sex, Relationships, and Sometimes Love, where I played a seductive, sexy rapist who lost interest in her prey, but that lasted only for a little while.

I feel pretty good about my almost first year in California. Although the only thing I realized after being here for nine months is that I haven’t made any close friends. And because of that, I’ve found it very lonely. One of my closest friends came to visit me recently and I noticed just how much I missed having good, close girlfriends. I had such a good time with Marilyn and her fiancé that I couldn’t help but feel sorry for myself. For the nine months of living here, I had failed to make any good friends. In reality, the closest friend I made was the Terminator, the man I had been seeing for, ironically, nine months, but since he decided to “terminate” the relationship, I found myself back at the beginning.

So, if that’s the case, I’ve always been good with beginnings. I think the one thing to learn from this is to make good friends first before anything else, otherwise you end up alone.

Once upon a time…

…There was a very young girl who liked a very young boy. She’d punch him and shoved him into trees and was so sure he’d know she meant love. But the boy cried, running to the first grade teacher, pointed at the girl, “telling” on her. The girl’s face fell in sadness. She was so sure he knew! And then there was detention. This made the girl very angry, and she vowed to never love the boy again, rather to kick his butt just a little harder next time.boy and girl

As I was growing up, I wanted more than anything to be impervious to emotional pain. I believe most of us strive for this in vain. Because when it comes to relationships, pain is part of the warning label. WARNING: YOU MAY DEVELOP A BROKEN HEART.

As a constant analyzer of human emotional reactions, throughout the years I have examined my closest friends’ relationships, and have been occasionally envious of them. I watched how they showed the most complicated and controversial emotion, love.

First, there was Emm and Jay. The two expressed their love for each other so publicly and so unashamedly it was sickening! And after a year of nearly spending 24/7 with each other, they still seemed stuck in the “honeymoon” phase. In fact, they said the “love you” words to one another within the first week of dating, so who is to say “love at first sight” doesn’t exist.

Then there was Rach and Tony, a tug-o-war sort of relationship. One always being more needy than the other, and when things seemed to be finally leveling out, suddenly the tide would shift and the other person would do all the needing. Always in love, but always unbalanced, grasping at something too far for them to reach.

In my recent couple encounters, I had met a very unique girl and boy called Stunt Gee and Stunt Bee…for they are stunt performers. The two spent nearly every day together for about two years. They were very private with their affections for one another and acted very practical. During one of my conversations with Stunt Gee, she mentioned how she has never said “I love you” to Stunt Bee and believes very strongly that it shouldn’t be thrown out so easily as most people tend to do. She explained to me her viewpoint on the “love emotion” and felt that it should only be said when you mean it. MEANING you will NEVER take it back. Her opinion on love leaned more on the “forever” aspect of things.

I said to her, “Sometimes it feels I’ll never get there.”

She said, “That’s called a broken heart.”

Which leads to me and my new adventures on exploring relationships again. After surviving a fabulously destructive unrequited love relationship, my emotions on love automatically went into full lockdown. This was all subconscious of course, because I honestly didn’t notice myself locking up. That is, until I met the Terminator. I noticed that with such a nice guy, I felt absolutely nothing and wasn’t doing it on purpose. It took a long conversation with my dad, who apparently went through the same lockdown when he was my age, to help me warm up. So I pushed myself into trying love again, allowing it to happen naturally. It was like getting back in the water after nearly drowning to death. I’d been analyzing my every move and emotional response in an attempt to figure myself out, to see if I even knew what being in love felt like. And when I finally decided that I got it, I collected enough courage to whisper it to the Terminator, who, in turn, remained…silent.

So now, after being jealous of my girlfriends’ relationships, how they were all so quick and eager to profess their love and have it returned, after surviving a horrible relationship where the boy never really loved back, then being surrounded by a couple that didn’t believe in saying “I love you,” I find myself not wanting to be involved in the whole mess.

But there’s no getting away from it, not when you decide to get involved with someone else. So I must learn to love happily without being loved in return. Though it sucks! I’d rather take the detention…but not this time. Time to grow up just a little more.

I’ve Had a Revelation…

…Just recently. While I was talking with my girlfriend Rachel on the phone earlier today, we got on the topic of suicidal thoughts.

...a blast of a second.

NOW DON’T FREAK OUT JUST YET!

She and I confide in each other our deepest dark sides, one of them being our crazy, spur-of-the-moment, suicidal thought-flashes. I call them thought-flashes because…that’s exactly what they are. Flashes shooting from one of end of the brain to the other in the blast of a second.

“Sometimes, while I’m driving,” I say to Rachel, this being nearly a year ago, “and maybe while I’m on a ramp, I have these sudden urges to drive my car off the edge and end it all.”

“Me too!” Rachel exclaims, probably relieved that she wasn’t the only one who had crazy flash-thoughts like that.

Earlier today, we reminisced on these thoughts, and then it occurred to me! I hadn’t had one of those flash-thoughts (at least in the suicidal sense) NOT ONCE since my move to California.

I used to have them consistently throughout my life…and if I am truly honest and look back from when it first started, these dark thoughts arose when I was only a kid in third grade…and had just moved to Arizona with my parents.

Now, granted I was a generally happy kid, with the occasional meltdowns here and there. But there’s nothing really RIGHT about suicidal thoughts. I can’t tell you what inspired them in the first place, but I can tell you they’ve finally disappeared. And that makes me very happy. I now cringe when remembering how I once thought like that, almost feeling like it was a whole ‘nother dimension.

Obviously I couldn’t be happier now that those thoughts have gone. For some people, it takes a person. For others, it takes a place. For me, it’s the place. 🙂