Number 1…part 2

 

THE COLDSHOULDER MOVE

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

I hated him.

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

Boy, I hated him!

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

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

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

“Is that true?” I would ask.

“Yes,” he would say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“BOBBY!!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

But tomorrow, they wouldn’t be so lucky.

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

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

“Aw come on!” he said.

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

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

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

Getting More Agents

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

Tipsy Tuesdays!

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

The Cutting Returns

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

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

Number 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Starving Actor

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

New Year’s Eve

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Thataway

Looking for Luke Skywalker

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…

Or actually in a little town called Glendale, there was a thirteen year old girl who fell in love with Luke Skywalker.

Luke Skywalker

Every night, when her parents went off to work and she was left alone to her imagination, the little girl would put in the laser disc of Return of the Jedi and reenact the entire movie. Sometimes, depending on how much time she had throughout the night, she would play all three Star Wars movies, becoming Luke Skywalker in her mind, feeling the changes and emotions he experienced, pretending to fight with Leia over Han Solo, instead of the other way around, until she had the entire original saga memorized by heart.

But it wasn’t Han Solo’s swashbuckling, rebellious personality she idolized and swooned over. It was the passion of a young adventurer, of someone who wanted so much to be apart of something bigger than himself, and, in turn, becoming bigger than he ever could have imagined. Of a boy who grew into a man who was loyal to his friends and family, believed in something great, and held onto that belief with unwavering, but always tempted, perseverance.

The little girl not only wanted to be Luke Skywalker, but was crazy about him. Every blue-eyed glance, every sideways smile creating a soft crease into his cheek, every clench of his fist, every swing of his green lightsaber, made her fall over and over about him. Sometimes to the point of pausing the laser disc on images of Luke having a concerned expression (specifically in Yoda’s hut). This was, of course, before internet was fully functional and she had to rely on the pause button. If any of you remember the laser disc machines, it wasn’t easy to “still” the picture without it turning into a blue “pause” screen. There was a “still” or “step” button that would make the picture freeze in place. And it wasn’t always easy.

So you can imagine this thirteen year old girl trying to figure out how to keep the picture frozen in place so that she could swoon over the still image of Luke looking distraught over Yoda’s death…Yay for internet!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then, of course, there’s always the distraught look hidden by the black cloak…

Luke's Brooding

That little girl was me. Obviously.

There’s nothing sexier than a black cloak over a black jumpsuit fighting bad guys. And looking terribly concerned. At least, this was how I felt at the early stages of my adolescence.

One day, while I was with my mother inside Barnes and Noble’s Bookstore, I went off into the science fiction section out of curiosity. I hadn’t seen any Star Wars books before until then. I had no idea other authors had expanded far past the movies and that there were many more adventures. One particularly caught my eye. Barbara Hambly’s Children of the Jedi.Children of the Jedi cover

It was the woman’s image beside Luke who really caught my attention. Finally, a love interest for Luke, I thought.

So I begged my mom to buy it for me, and as soon as we got into the car, I immediately started skimming the pages to anything that had Luke talking to some other woman. I never actually read the book. I just skipped to the pages where the character Callista dialogued with Luke.

After consuming myself with this book, I became addicted to finding other Star Wars novels with different love interests for Luke. I had gotten Timothy Zahn’s Thrawn trilogy where I was extremely intrigued by Mara Jade, but highly disappointed that nothing really major happened between Luke and Mara in those stories (other than slight sexual tension of course). Apparently, that wasn’t enough. I wanted more! Every visit my mother and I made to Barnes and Noble, I got a new book, hoping that some sort of romance would happen for Luke. I wanted him to find happiness and love so badly and HAD to be with the right person!

I got extremely excited when Zahn finally wrote the two novels, The Hand of Thrawn series. Hand of Thrawn DuologyThis was where Mara and Luke finally fell in love after years of an on and off friendship, and in the most adventurous and stubborn way.Which was perfect! I loved that Luke would be the sweet, gentle, and loyal guy who was always slightly naïve about someone else’s affections for him. And that Mara, who was the stubborn, highly fiery, no-nonsense woman, but who was also loyal and honest about her feelings and affections, would be the one to land him. It was exactly how I had pictured it.

Around this time, I was fifteen. And I wanted to be Mara Jade. She had a dancer’s body, and so did I. She was a red head, and so was I. I bought green contacts to make my steel eye color to be emerald green. I already saw myself as her, could you tell? I was (and still am) fiery, passionate, logical, loyal and very affection when I chose to be, and with the right person.I wish.

I also wanted to be the type of person you didn’t mess with. A badass. That if you messed with my closest friends and family, you would be dead on my list. Mara would assassinate anyone who got in the way…but she was trained for that. And…well, I was trained to be an opera singer and actress. So I could pretend…

As I got deep into high school, I had become so obsessed with Luke and his romances that I even wrote two Star Wars novels starring my own character Lilliya Starr as his love interest. I made it so it could fit into the chronology of books and had it where Mara had actually been killed off to make Luke available. This was in 1999, years before the authors actually DID kill off Mara. Of course, my stories were filled with mystery and adventure, but there was always exciting sexual tension between Starr and Skywalker that it made it fun to write. And there were six books for me to create. So…that was fun. Not quite done yet.

As I got into college, I realized I was actually comparing my boyfriends to Luke Skywalker. It never occurred to me until I started dating a lot of different guys.

That one is too A New Hope…That one is too Empire…That is NOTHING like Luke.

To emphasize my obsession even more, my mother knew I was looking for a guy with the last name Walker just so I could have a son and name him Luke Sky Walker. Or maybe just Luke Walker. It was always fun to think about.

Because of my mother’s knowledge of this, I had been set up on a blind date with a guy who had the last name of Walker. Didn’t work out, but I am STILL on the lookout.

However, I’m not looking for the name anymore, although that would be a fun plus, and it’s not the physical appearance either that’s catching my eye. I realized recently that, after every relationship and date I’ve had, I am looking for a guy who is caring, compassionate, loyal, brave, spiritual, affectionate, positive, strong, adventurous, has been through the tough times and knows the hard life, motivated, and thinks beyond and outside himself. (I know, this is becoming a match.com-ish speech)

In short, ever since I was thirteen years old, I have been looking Luke Skywalker. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted. He IS my dream guy. And if someday I meet a man like this—and I’ve gotten close—I’m gonna say, “Do you like Star Wars? Do you believe in God? Yes? Well, then, let’s fly outa here. You do own an X-wing, right? Sweet.”

And hopefully he’ll smile at me like this…

 

Preferably without the woman on his side.

And I’m never settling for less. No one should.