The Five Stages of Death

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 IHappy 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

I prefer wolves for men. Mystic_Wolf_1280x800

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.

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!!!!

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.

Ice

So I just drove forty-five minutes from Burbank to my house and it was a little past midnight. As I entered Simi Valley’s dark and quieter streets, I felt safe and, for once, felt as though home was nearby. I had, forty-five minutes earlier, just turned my back on a recent ex-boyfriend/friend/the Terminator. We hadn’t really been together for a month and a half now since our last “break up” discussion, but things between us were never solidified. At least, not what I understood of it. However, in recent weeks, we had been speaking and randomly seeing each other at convenient intervals. Needless to say, I had to make things clearer, for myself, in any case. I wasn’t going to endure another on and off relationship where the guy could never honestly love me back or truly want to be with me. Which is fine, in retrospect, because this is what happens to people. But I, personally, don’t think I have it in me to keep holding on to something so uncertain, confusing, and slippery.

I have attempted to think like a guy and enjoy the moments of uncertainty run by pure animalistic instinct. I lasted about three days of not letting my emotions get to me, and then it failed once I shared my stories with close and not-so-close friends. No matter the differences between each friends’ status, the answer was the same. “You deserve someone who WANTS to be with you.”

So, as reality clicked in on punctual time, it struck me that I was allowing myself to fall into another disastrous loop trap with an ex. This time I put my foot down, which was really hard to do, and drove away from Burbank to home, with no tears, but definitely a deep frown creasing my brow.

I knew, as I drove down the blackened highways of Southern California, that this time I was on my own. My last break up was comforted and surrounded by loyal and loving friends who did everything in their power to help me survive. Those friends still exist, but are far away and are no longer available. My parents are no longer available because, they too, are far away. This time, I’m in it alone. Just me and my cat. But really, just me.

Fortunately, in this particular case, I have become much more durable. It only frightens me a little that I have been able to cut off direct connection to deep feelings, that I have become colder inside, and that that coldness has given me the strength and confidence to move on.

What can a person do? When they have no close friends? When they have no loved ones nearby? When she must live with the fact that the man she was with didn’t want her anymore? What does a person do in order to survive the isolation? She becomes like ice, freezes over until someone decides to make her warm with the sun again.

So you wanna challenge?

I got one!

I’m starting to feel the heat of life. It’s been nine months since I moved from Arizona to California, and the first eight were easy, smooth, controlled, and, honestly, a lot of fun. I had a boyfriend, a job that generally made good money, and beautiful weather. But I wasn’t in any shows yet, which was fine. I think the only patience I have in my strong-willed, stubborn brain is literally reserved for the days when I pretend to be an actor.

But then, in just one month things pop! Near the end of May, I was leaving for my cousin’s wedding in Missouri. On that day, I knew I was recently cast in Cinderella and also got a call announcing that I was approved for Wonder Woman within Six Flags Magic Mountain. Good news, wouldn’t you say? I tell my boyfriend at the time how excited I was and then realized how busy I was going to be. He responded with a very dry, “Good luck.” That marked the first step towards the downhill slope coming my way.

To back track ever-so slightly, I was also on the hunt for a new job. This being because my General Manager was turning everything to hell and I wanted out. Unfortunately, I can’t go anywhere until I have another job lined up.

Back on track—I’m at my cousin’s wedding and I realize just how truly happy she and her husband look. Believe me, I can smell faux-happiness anywhere. Except in myself, funny as that is. So at this point, she tells me to never settle, that he’s out there, that she’s been in many relationships never fully satisfied until this one. This sinks hard into my over-analyzing brain and I leave Missouri with a sour lump in my stomach.

Weeks go by and I still can’t find a job. Nobody’s hiring, or they say they are, put me through two interviews, then never call me again. I go into one place weekly just to see if they have an opening and I’m never able to see a manager. At this point, I feel like a stalker.

“Well at least I have Wonder Woman and Cinderella,” I mutter aimlessly.

Oh wait! Not so! I had been approved by Warner Bros. and DC Comics, but Magic Mountain wouldn’t pick me up. They neglected to set up any interviews or even return my calls. I actually had to drive 40 min. up to Magic Mountain thinking I had an interview scheduled at 1030am to find out they wouldn’t see me until 1230pm. I was so angry because my life is already too busy that I just left. There was no way I was going to sit around for two hours. No way!

So Wonder Woman is out of the picture. On top of this fabulous discovery, my boyfriend and I were having deep conversations. Conversations about calling it quits. And then it happened pretty much in the same week.

So now Terminator is out of the picture. What do I have left? No real close friends, that’s for sure. I spent most of my free time with my relationship, neglecting to work on making any friendships. I actually sobbed one night—obviously with a glass of Merlot nestled tightly in my grasp—and I’m talking a full-gusty meltdown of pathetic gush where I cried to my cat about how “alone” I am and how “I have no friends.” The only thing that could actually sober me up was, shockingly, the Vicodin I took thinking it would put me to a hard sleep. Not so. I was as chill as a popsicle.

Then I could really ponder on what I had left. What was it? Oh yeah! Cinderella and my awful serving job. And the sad thing is, every time I walk into a new restaurant to apply, they all say, “We’d love to hire you! But we need you to have more availability…” Go figure, Cinderella would be the one thing keeping me from escaping my current job.

So as I sit here typing out smoking little letters of impatient frustration…I realize the challenging part of California has finally arrived. I’m either having to fight very hard or submerge myself in utter patience—which I actually fight very hard to do anyway. But I won’t be beaten! My stubbornness would rather kill me. And if Plan A never works, I have plenty of Plan B’s waiting…patiently.