Hey guys! I’m understudying Jane Noseworthy in the musical review Pure Imagination featuring the music of Anthony Newley and Leslie Bricusse. Come see me if you can! Performances are down in Venice Beach. The dates I’ll be singing are Dec 12th – 15th, 20th, 22nd & Jan 10th, 12th
Follow link for ticket and date info: http://www.pacificresidenttheatre.com/pure-imagination/
A lot of changes have happened over the past months since I last wrote. A lot of mental changes and feelings and other things I can’t quite explain. At first, I thought maybe it was because I was feeling the “three-year itch” being an actress. I’ve gone into turbo mode. I am, for lack of a better word, throwing myself at people as if to say “HEY I’M ALIVE AND VERY TALENTED!!! LET ME PERFORM FOR YOU!!!” Then I thought it was because one of my most favorite movie series was being added on to and it switched on my “I don’t give a crap-fighting for what I want” mode. Star Wars was something I lived in since I was 13. Hell, I’ve even written my own stories to the series! Memorized every line of Luke’s. Wanted to be Luke, AND was in love with him. I even compare the guys I date to Luke Skywalker. THIS, alone, is proof of my obsessive compulsiveness. Or was it the fact that all my past girlfriends were married and having children, and I wasn’t. Or was it…simply…the feeling of the clock…ticking.
My birthday is in a few hours. There were many moments where I felt like I should write, but tonight felt like the right moment.
I have a dog sleeping in my bed right now. Tiny, white and cream colored, with long silk hair, and gentle eyes and a quiet demeanor. I rescued him yesterday. It seems like everyone was having babies…and I produced a dog. I named him Toby Lee Orion, aka (just) Toby. Yeah, so I wanted a little touch of sci-fi to the name, I couldn’t resist. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, though…I’ve never been a “small dog” person. I guess you could blame it on my whimming personality. But I feel there’s something else changing in me.
I mailed George Lucas a letter yesterday as well…AND Kathleen Kennedy AND J.J. Abrams AND Disney. I mailed them because I am THAT desperate to have a chance to audition for Star Wars, I’m starting to feel a little nuts. But I figured I have nothing to lose, because currently in the film world I am pretty close to nothing anyhow, so what better thing to do but send George Lucas and friends a “Hello, you don’t know me, but I love you!” letter…for those of you who don’t know me, the “I love you” part is completely satirical……so I say……
I also have a boyfriend that I can’t admit is a boyfriend because the term freaks me out SO much, I immediately turn off and don’t want him anymore. But as long as he stays in the friend zone, I want him. This may also prove I’ve gone officially nuts, but haven’t seen a professional yet… He’s my Number 1 and he’s my best friend. He’s also my intimate lover. But labels really sit sourly with me…to the point of an upset stomach…to the point of me running like there’s zombies after me. EXACTLY!
My mother asked me recently if my motivation as an actress has been spurred on because of the new Star Wars movies and I told her, “Yes.” As a child, I really wanted to be an astronaut. Truly, I still want to be one, but because my bad eyesight wouldn’t be able to make the cut AND when I was young I didn’t think of myself as smart enough, the dream of being in space was limited to just pretense. But an actor CAN travel space within the mind’s eye. So, yes, I know the new SW movies have become my main motivation in life. There’s nothing I want more. There really really is nothing!
For the first time, I’m taking workshops with casting directors that work for J.J. Abrams, sending out headshots and resumes to people I don’t think would ever even care to look at (that’s why I’ll be sending them out every month 
) , buying my first dog that acts like a fabulous stress reliever, and pulling along a fantastic guy/person because I can’t seem to relax in a committed relationship.
So as a result, I have spent more money this year than I EVER have just to somehow make sense of things in my personal life and catch someone’s attention in the Star Wars world. And every bit of it has felt worth it. Because I know that if I don’t get a chance, at least I can say I didn’t try my all……in BOTH worlds.
DAY! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! to me because I’m a MayDay baby
PATIO TALK
It was warm out, so I’d decided to eat my lunch out on the patio of our workplace. I ate ravenously, barely chewing before swallowing, inhaling more and more until my plate was nearly clean. One would think I had malnutrition. I probably was…being a “starving actor” ‘n all. I ate alone, a warm breeze flushing my cheeks. I enjoyed eating alone. It was peaceful and I didn’t have to talk to anyone. I could focus purely on my food. I could focus and think…
Think…think and thinking and thinking too much…
I wondered about my friend Pablo and why he liked Bobby, or Robert—or whatever—so much. Pablo was my best friend, but I couldn’t understand what he saw in him. Why he thought he was a really nice guy when he was a total ass. I thought about the time I asked Bobby to stay at work for me so I could go home early and he said “no, that he had to get home to his daughter.” Then when he was done with his shift, he ended up hanging out with Pablo at the bar with a couple of drunken girls. I was really mad about that. Angrier than usual. I shouldn’t have been. He wasn’t my husband. But there just HAD to be a reason why he was acting this way. It didn’t make any sense. Because he WAS a really nice guy. He wasn’t a jerk. But his actions just didn’t match up. And Pablo liked him, and so did a lot of people, so why was it I was seeing him as the bad guy? There just had to be a reason why he acted the way he did and it was going to drive me insane until I found out why!
“Hey, whatcha thinkin’?”
Speak of the devil…
“What’s up, Bobby,” I said, snapping into focus, and wiping any residual food-crumbs off the corners of my mouth. He was standing across from me, smiling his usual-annoying smile.
“Oh, I just saw you out here and wanted to say hi, but you looked deep in thought…” he said, smiling.
“Oh yeah, I do that,” I said, wiping my face again with my napkin. I could’ve sworn I felt leftover crumbs on my face still.
“Whatcha eating?” he asked, his fingers laced in front of him as he casually leaned against a chair.
“Um…” I glanced down at my plate…what did I eat? I was so hungry, I didn’t even pay attention. “I dunno, sliders?” I shrugged.
Bobby nodded. “They must’ve been good.”
“Yep.” My eyes flicked from my plate to Bobby and back again. “So, what’s up?”
He shrugged…and smiled again. “Just wanted to say hi.”
“Why don’t you act like a married man?” I blurted, as if the situation couldn’t be anymore uncomfortable for me and my “private” lunch.
He blinked and the smile went slightly crooked, but seemed to still hold on. And then his face relaxed, as if a sense of relief went through him. “Do you really wanna know?” he said.
“Um, yeah. I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t.” Boy, I could such a bitch to him.
Bobby sighed and the smile was gone. Then he went into a story I would never forget. Out of respect for the sake of their own relationship’s privacy, I won’t divulge. But all you need to know is that the man went from beginning to end with a story about what happened between him and his wife. And because I could sense he was telling the truth (lies are easy to spot, trust me), the hate and anger I felt for him melted away. Those feelings were replaced with a sadness and a touch of guilt for hating him so much. I asked him why, if the two of them were so miserable, he or her didn’t ask for a divorce. He told me that he wouldn’t do it because he wanted the best for his daughter, but that the idea of divorce crossed his mind many times. He figured, being an incredibly patient man, he would try to wait it out until his daughter grew to be 18.
After a moment, he said, “Do you think I’m a bad person?” And he was serious, the look in his eyes glossing over.
“No,” I said. “I think you’re human.”
My insides warmed but in a very sad and guilty way. It felt like everything I thought I knew or assumed about Bobby was right and wrong at the same time. Bobby was trapped in a marriage where both people wanted to escape and neither knew how to do it right. From then on, I decided to make him a friend. Not a close friend, but in my circle of people who I knew needed somebody. I called it The Losers Club (because, frankly, I was one of the biggest losers).
“Thank you for telling me,” I said. “If you ever need a friend…” This time I smiled.
A month or so had passed since we had that talk on the patio. We were good friends at work, but nothing more. My sarcasm remained when talking with him, but we were more playful than we had been before.
One day, while the two of us worked at our computer stations, he looked at me with a particularly bright smile and said, “I’ve got some interesting news to tell you.”
“Oh yeah? What?” I said, smirking at him with my usual cockiness.
“I’m getting a divorce.”
My jaw dropped…
It’s only been a week into the new year and I’m already running. I ended the old year with a great blog about my newest friends and Number 1 being the closest thing to BEING the one. And now I’m running again. Now I’m panicking. And crying. And being so girlishly possessive it makes me sick. If there’s one thing I hate most, it’s crying…and being sick.
And it occurs to me that I’ve never written a blog about Number 1 and how we became…something—sorry, the term “relationship” just makes me queasy, but that’s what we became.
I was much safer in my little dream world with Luke Skywalker, fighting off bad guys, and making love with the Force. You know you’ve always wanted to!
In the Beginning (one-ish year ago)
So here I was, minding my own business, eating a Turkey Cobb sandwich on my dinner break, when someone decided to interrupt.
“Hey, so I hear you’re an actress,” he says. I look up and see Robert, or Bob, or whatever he went by. He was very tall, had black hair, and amber-colored eyes. Of course I wouldn’t notice his eyes until much later. Needless to say, I was instantly attracted to him. Like BAM-in-your-FACE into him.
He was the new guy. I had already introduced myself to him earlier as I normally do to newbies…
“Hey, who are you?” I said, as he busied himself at the beverage station.
“I’m (Robert or Bob or something),” he said. At the time I couldn’t remember his name exactly. I was too busy trying to look and act cool as my insides were bursting with fiery hormones that wanted to jump all over this poor innocent human male.
“Well, I’m Xanna,” I said. “Welcome to hell.” “Hell” being The Restaurant in this instance. And that was it. I sauntered away as usual, trying to recall his name, but all I could remember was his brilliant smile and surprisingly comforting eyes. Mine, was the only thing that went through my mind. I felt a little smile grow inside of me.
Creepy, isn’t it? When people fall for other people. If you think about it…it really is creepy. But sometimes cute and it just makes you wanna go awwwwwwww……
Anyhow, later that evening, he decided to sit next to me on my dinner break and ask me a whole lot of questions about being an actress, to which I responded with “I’m the starving kind” and surprised me with how much he knew about musicals and such.
I figured he must be gay in some way—which was just my luck because I was always either attracted to gay men or married men—but it turned out he wasn’t and that he was just a history major in college and had an obsession about knowing everything about everything. Don’t ask me why that made me think he wasn’t gay anymore—just did.
And then it happened. Mine flashed through my thoughts again. It had been a while since anyone had sparked that inside of me…come to think of it, never had. And now all I could think of was tall, dark haired man named Robert. Going to work was suddenly fun for the first time. I couldn’t wait to see him.
Sometimes while I worked at one of the computer stations, he would come over and work next to me and ask me more questions. I don’t remember what, but it sounded nice, and all I could think of was mine—mine and yum.
Then one day I invited him out with a group of friends from work. A group of us usual go out to Crown and Anchor, a local English pub, after work and try to forget how awful our jobs are.
“Thanks, but I’ve got my daughter tonight,” he said.
Sting in the chest! (Not a stab, those are much worse). I “inner-winced” and remembered when I dated a guy with a daughter. Yeah, Mr. Georgia. And…it didn’t work out too well. Which was a “heavy” bummer at the time. But hey! Why judge this guy the same way? And the way he said “I’ve got my daughter tonight” made me think, soooooo this guy’s gotta be divorced, right? Who says it that way when they’re married?
“Ah, so you’re married?” I asked, assuming he’d probably say something along the lines of “no, I’m divorced,” or “no, I’m widowed,” or “no, I adopted,” or “no, I had a child out of wedlock and I got to keep her, ha!” which would all be perfect answers to my hopeful little heart…or hormones…or whatever!
“Yes I am,” he said.
………………………………………………STAB!!!!!
“Oh,” I smiled…I think… “Well, why would you say it like that? Why would you say, I’ve got my daughter tonight, as if you’re divorced or something.” Then I threw in a little sarcastic laugh like I was being cool or something. “So where’s your wife, then?”
“She’s got class tonight,” he said, still smiling that annoying patient, yet sweet and gentle and so very attractive, but untouchable smile.
“Ah, yes. Ah, well, that makes sense—yes. Well……………maybe next time.” And I turned my focus to the computer…very intently to the computer, all the while feeling my insides—AND hormones—freeze up and go cold. Of course he’s married. Of course…
And that was it.
But it wasn’t…
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!
Come see this epically historical play directed by Nick DeGruccio! Starring Peter Husmann as John Adams and Steve Gunderson as Benjamin Franklin. And I’m playing Abigail Adams!!!
Here are some of the pictures from the photo shoot!
Exactly a year ago, I was in rehearsals for Cabrillo Music Theatre’s production of Annie. I was playing Grace Farrell, my first lead in California. I got to work with Norman Large and Sally Struthers. It was one of the most memorable show experiences I had had at the time and felt so blessed to be apart of it! 
Playing Grace Farrell led me to my first agent, Steven Dry, with Connor Ankrum & Associates. He started me out on my first run of auditions. The first one sucked. I completely screwed it up. It was my first audition where I actually knew that when I turned and exited through the door, I wanted to shoot myself and bury myself in a hole. It was stupid-dumb-bad. And to make matters worse for myself, it was the first audition I had that my agent scheduled me for. I wanted to cry.
I redeemed myself, not right away, but eventually. As the months passed, the auditions were few and far between. It was a slow season for the theater world. Equity houses were closing down without hope of reopening. Union actors were leaving the union just so they could get more work. It wasn’t looking good for California theater. It still isn’t…
Nonetheless, the shows must go on…I don’t know how, but they will.
A few months more went by and I finally signed with my first commercial agency, Brady Brannon and Rich. So I experienced my first round of commercial auditions and callbacks. Let me tell you!!! They are SOOOOO easy. You don’t have to prepare ANYTHING. Just show up and look right. Such a change compared to all my theater auditions, where you have to prepare 16-32 bars of an up-tempo and ballad, bring dance clothes, dance shoes, and whatever else they may want you to do.
I didn’t land a commercial yet, but had mostly callbacks, so I thought that wasn’t too shabby.
Around winter time, I had finally made a good group of awesome friends. I hadn’t really made any since I had moved; I got close to some, but didn’t find anyone I could trust yet. So I finally found some people I could love AND trust. At the same time, I also lost contact with my friend and ex The Terminator. The confusing relationship finally reached its end since I had moved out to California.
During this time, I had met William Shatner. I actually got to hang out with him ON SET, 
being apart of the crew. My life was complete at that point. If I had died the next day, I wouldn’t have cared. I also got asked out by four different crew guys that same day. Overwhelmed would definitely be the word for THAT.
For a while there, I wasn’t landing any shows. I was getting callbacks, but nothing after that. It was a serious dry spell. But a part of me was grateful for it. I had time for other things in my life that I normally wouldn’t have if I were in a show. The show-life takes up MOST of your time. Eventually, I was invited to audition for The Movie Guys, a comedy webisode about movies ‘n such. I got in and was able to become SAG-eligible, something I had been thinking pretty close to impossible considering I wasn’t really doing any union related stuff until then.
I was ecstatic that I had the ability to call up SAG and say, “I wanna sign up and pay my dues!” I couldn’t believe that doing New Media was a way in.
And then, just to mess with me, my “dark side” decided to come out and be a pain, and I started cutting again. I hadn’t sliced up my leg since I was in college, so it was a serious wake-up call when it happened again at 26 years old. I finally accepted the fact that I was born with something I had no control of. I wasn’t allowed to take any more birth control, according to the nurses, because of the severe depression I was feeling again. They took me off it, and then put me on Prozac again. I hadn’t been on it for a while, but after my bad cutting experience (taking a butter knife at work and going at it on my right leg), I decided it was best to stay on the Prozac indefinitely.
Once I accepted my “craziness,” (as I like to call it), I felt a sense of equilibrium. And, funny enough, things started making sense and being good again. I got cast in The Music Man, playing Marian Paroo, which was one of my dream roles. A friend of mine told me to 
audition, and I got it. It really is about WHO you know. I wouldn’t have known about the audition if my friend hadn’t told me about it. Needless to say, I was thrilled when I got the part.
From there, I got another lead in a show, Abigail Adams in Cabrillo Music Theatre’s production of 1776 the Musical. I COULDN’T believe it! I wanted to play her so badly, I was beyond shocked and thrilled that I actually got cast.
I began a working-out life style I thought I’d never have. I started Cardio Barre with my roommate. I started running, something I used to HATE all my life, and now love it! I FINALLY achieved my Victoria’s Secret stomach goal, which I had been wanting to reach since I was 14 years old. Took living with a stunt woman with rock-hard abs to actually push me.
And on top of all this, my romance life became interesting after nearly a year of zilch. Sure, I had been meeting people like The Bartender from Bogie’s, and the crew guys from Shatner’s shoot, but no one I actually felt like spending time with.
But then came Mr. Big (MY version, not Sex and the City’s version). And then Mr. Spock. And then Blue Shirt (aka, possibly Skywalker). All of which I have very unusual relationships with. Two of them are close friends, one of them closer in a more physical way, and the third is one I’m technically dating (as in a date once a week kinda thing). ALL wonderful!!!! I’ve become sort of a Queen Bee, giving my love to all my little worker bees…although I’m really not sure what I’m doing at all. In all honesty, at this time in my life, I admit I have a serious problem with monogamous relationships. But we all go through this at one point or another, right? I panic at the idea of being tied down to just one person right now. And not one guy in my life that I’ve been with seriously has deserved my loyalty, so why try to be loyal at all? I guess I’m answering myself with this one…the one who does deserve it will be the one to marry. WELL I’m not even CLOSE to that, so game on! Time to really live out my loving side. I might as well be a futuristic hippy.
Last night was a perfect ending to my 3 year anniversary with California: a whim on the beach that only happens in your dreams. I had a found a secret entrance to a private beach in Malibu, and a small group of friends and I ventured out into the dark of the night, stripped down to our skimpies and played in the ocean, all the while, of course, wondering if Jaws was laying in wait. It was the whim of the year!
And so the adventures continue! By the way, Cali, did I ever tell you that I love you? Well, I do. Happy 3 years and may the fourth one be ever in my favor!
So many things can happen in one summer. If we could all remember every little detail we experience, maybe we would finally realize how exciting and interesting our lives really are. We all are living an adventure deserved to be written about. This is why I write. This is why I nag my grandmother, whom I call Mana, to write her story. This is why it saddens me that my grandfather, Papa, never wrote his before he passed away. And this is why I write about the people in my life, because they have an adventure deserved to be documented too.
This summer, I made friends. Good friends. The closely-knit kind I’d been wanting badly. Samantha, Pablo, Katie, Helena, Monique, and many more. They will always be apart of my life story.
This summer, I got to play Marian Paroo in the The Music Man. Of course, I got a horrendous chest cold during the callback. Somehow survived it, but was out from work the following days. Still got the part. Weird how that works. Anyhow, she was one of my dream roles. I grew up with The Music Man. My family grew up with it too. The musical felt more apart of me than usual. It felt like being home. During the run, I met some wonderful people that I’ll never forget. And, of course, I am madly in love with my opposite, Kristopher Kyer, who played Harold Hill. One of my favorite people ever, truly.
This summer, I got to be apart of The Movie Guys, a comedy group that previews and reviews movies every month. I specialize in the sci-fi stuff, of course. 
I love working with Paul Preston, Karen Volpe, Lee Kias, Adam Witt, and many others. I’ve 
met some very wonderfully funny and interesting people throughout the months.
This summer, I got to sing with the Prescott Pops Symphony orchestra once again, conducted by my father. A year ago, he wanted to book me to sing as one of his soloist, and I kept telling him I couldn’t commit because I didn’t know if I’d have a better gig by then. As the months passed, things worsened for my father at the Prescott college. He was disrespectfully, and without warning, fired through an email
by the newest head of the music department at the college, reason being simply a difficulty in communication. And then other soloists were dropping out at the last second for the concert my father was putting on in July. I decided to commit to the concert, not only because I couldn’t abandon my dad, but because I wanted him to know he still had the respect and the support of other singers.
This summer, I developed an unexpected but fully embraced sense of love and support from my aunt and uncle who live in California. There was always love within my family members, but now I feel a sudden closeness to them that I only rarely feel for a handful of people. This feeling is hard for 
me to describe, but to put it simply, it is the feeling one might feel for their own child…they would kill for them, or die. I’ve felt this way about my parents and my Mana and Papa. There are just a few others I’ve had this feeling for, but now my aunt and uncle have joined this circle in my heart. Sometimes I laugh and brush this emotion off as a fault of my “artistic” side. But it’s there, nonetheless. Now my uncle is leaving for Afghanistan…I can only hope it’ll be boring.
This summer, I also met someone. The man with the blonde hair and the blue eyes. I caught a glimpse of him in the audience during my show. The blue shirt is what drew my attention. And I thought, “he’s cute.” Then I saw him again at dinner with a friend. Coincidence? I don’t know. But I thought it was cool. Because I remember details like that. Just like in a movie. And then he asked me out.
But that’s all I’m gonna say. This story deserves a separate blog.
There’s a little story in all of this, but I think the most important thing to understand is that this was a happy time. I want to remember it well. That’s why I’m writing it now. Because I know when there’s an up, there’s always another down. And the dark side of my brain likes to take over during those downs.
So I hope for the happy times like now to last a long time, and I write to keep it real.
There’s an adventure in all of us, so don’t take it for granted, and remember all the details down to the last blue shirt.
It’s nights like these when I am reminded of the phrase, “Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,” which is quickly followed by, “Try it” in my romantically cynical head.
Well I have. And I might be hotly in agreement with Men In Black’s Agent K (Tommy Lee Jones to those who have no idea what I’m referring to).
I thought at first that it was a miracle that I could ever feel the overwhelmingly wonderful emotion of “in love,” and I was surprisingly grateful. But now I take it back. It has made me lonelier than I thought possible. I am pickier than I thought imaginable. And I can’t go back to the way I was before.
I am stuck. Really stuck. And if there’s one thing I hate most, it’s being stuck.
So what do I do? I distract myself with unending work. When the unending work runs out, I distract myself with numerous friends, surrounding myself with as many companions as possible to hide the imminent isolation I would feel. That works for a good while, until my brain realizes the tricks I’m pulling on it and drags me back to reality again.
Then I distract myself with books. Books on top of books. Deep books filled with rich descriptions of worlds I will never smell, touch, or see.
I know what I’m doing. Because I am more than scared to admit that I am so human. More than scared to give my feelings a sense of reality. They, my feelings, scare me more than a demon or devil created in the Bible, more than the evil things that walk this earth, more than sharks and zombies that can eat people, and much more than death. It is they that I try so hard every day to smother into submission.
I bought a book on a friend’s request. Fifty Shades of Grey. I thought maybe the sexual nature of this book would give me the distraction I needed most: distracting the heavy, despairing loneliness which threatened to suffocate me. The book did nothing for me. And so I am left with my nights alone. Nights where my brain tries desperately to entertain me and keep me company with fantasies and pleasuring images. Dreams of seductive vampires, evil and beautiful, drawing me in with every last moment of my own breath. Dreams of the Phantom of the Opera, the true Phantom who sings to me, and hypnotizes me until I melt to his will, ‘til I succumb to his whim. Dreams of dominating men who demand my obedience simply through their tenderness.
I am craving. And it feels like I am tearing myself in two. Because I am not the type of girl to find companionship through a quick twenty-four hour time period. I am not interested in just a whimsical night with a stranger. It is my curse that I had experienced love once.
And this is why I am on Agent K’s side. It is not better to have loved and lost. Because if you have, then you must be me, lying alone in your bed, hugging your cat, or your pillow, burying yourself beneath your covers, and hoping somewhere, someday, someone will be holding you again, wanting you again, and loving you without the losing.
Shatner: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship, Xanna D, her continuing mission to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no girl has gone before.
THAT’S RIGHT, KIDS! I FINALLY MET WILLIAM SHATNER!!!
And I pretty much nearly died from euphoria.
You all know I am the biggest science-fiction female freak in the entire universe. And if you don’t, then what the heck are you doing reading this blog? I write Star Wars books (that someday I hope to make into a television series), I write sci-fi reviews for movies, I read sci-fi novels, I play sci-fi video games, I have Star Wars posters all over my room, my movie collection consists of 99% sci-fi. Even now I am currently watching ALL the Star Trek series—EPISODES IN ORDER.
Now, I don’t wanna start up a war on who’s more sci-fi-nerdy than the other, but I just wanna prove that I am, indeed, OBSESSED with all things to do with space, truly the final frontier.
To this day I still want to be buried on the moon when I die, or be put in a capsule and shot into space. That would make all my dreams come true.
But, first things first. I met the man himself, Mr. William T. Shatner…sorry, I just had to throw in the T. Forgive me, Bill. 
Let me just tell you, my life is officially complete. I can die tomorrow and by okay with it.
So let me tell you how it happened…
One day I posted my status on Facebook saying “I still can’t get over William Shatner…sexiest man ever!” Or something like that…
The next morning, I woke up to a Facebook message from a theater friend of mine saying, “You know Shatner’s going to be at my house filming in two weeks, right? Why don’t you come over and just hang out?”
I bolted out of bed and a slew of shocked profanity flew from my mouth. “Are you &*^@$#$&**&%*@ KIDDING ME?!?!”
Of course I said yes. But there was a little voice inside my head saying it’ll never happen, you want this too much. Anytime I really want something, it usually evades me. So I tried to forget about it. Then, a few days before the shoot, my friend contacted me again to remind me to come out. Yeah, sure, okay…
I wanted this so badly I could feel the bad karma finding me.
The day came for me to hang out during the shoot. Also, on that day, I had a scheduled audition later that night. I wondered ironically, How is it that everything happens on the same day?…
I went to my friend’s house around lunch break, ate delicious halibut, gourmet steamed veggies, mashed potatoes, and pineapple slaw, finishing it with Perrier Lemonade. I met most of the crew members, all of them extremely friendly and welcoming. But William Shatner was nowhere to be seen. He was having lunch privately in his room.
A few hours went by and I anxiously kept checking my phone’s time. I was cutting close to when I needed to leave for my audition. The location was two and a half hours away.
I finally came to terms with myself: when will you get another chance to meet William Shatner??? Probably never again. So I decided to sacrifice my audition for Mr. Shatner.
Many hours passed. I got to see Shatner shoot his scenes. I even caught him glancing at me sideways, which thrilled me to the bone. I smiled at him and he smiled back. He seemed like such a nice person, pleasant and good humored. He laughed with the filming crew and his voice was a deep bass, husky and sweet.
Finally, they wrapped at 5pm. I knew I had missed my opportunity to audition at this point, considering my scheduled time was 6:30pm…again, two and a half hours away.
But then I finally got to meet Mr. Shatner. Handsome, charming, gentle and polite, he was. 
I got my first picture with him, in which I very much noticed how strong a grip he had around my waist. More thrills to my bone.
But when I checked my camera to see how it turned out, I noticed he blinked.
Oh no, I need another! I thought. I had to have a perfect picture. Who knew when I had another chance like this?
Finally I worked up the nerve to ask him again.
“Mr. Shatner?” I said meekly. “Is it okay if I have another picture of you?”
And he said, with his deep bassoon-like voice, “Well, it depends on with whom?”
And I said, “Well, with me.”
“Well then, get over here,” he said, smiling with arms wide open.
With that, I nearly died, falling into his arms and into the stars of the universe.
I can’t even begin to tell you how happy I was. I was beaming the rest of the day and more. I have had so much admiration and respect for this man. I’d seen things he’d done even before the Star Trek series aired, aka Thriller’s Grim Reaper, which is one of the most frightening episodes I’ve ever seen. This was mostly due to William Shatner’s performance, selling the horrific image of the Reaper purely through facial expression (you never got to see the actual Reaper) as Shatner went to his death.
After the picture was taken, I said, “It was truly a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Shatner. Really a pleasure.”
He smiled and said, “No, no. It was a pleasure for me.” Which, of course, made me blush as red as my jacket and I had to escape. So I nodded, smiled and walked away.
I said goodbye to the film crew that I had mingled with for hours, thanked my friend for inviting me out to enjoy the day with them, and made my way to my car.
“We’ll see you next week, right?” Shatner’s assistant called out to me.
I turned, startled. “What do you mean?”
“You’re coming back next week?” she repeated.
I looked at my friend, confused and not sure what to say. My friend nodded and smiled encouragingly.
“Is that allowed?” I asked finally, turning to the assistant.
She said, “Of course!” Then she leaned in closer, saying, “Trust me, all the guys here want to see you again,” and winked.
I was tempted to say, Does that include Bill?, but I knew better. The man was spoken for, of course.
In any case, being invited to hang out with the crew is a big enough thrill for me to not turn down. How could I say no? And besides, I’m a whimmer. And that’s what whimmers do.
And so begins another whimming adventure. In a galaxy far, far away…oh wait.
P.S. I DID make my audition later that night, only I was an hour and a half late. I decided to go anyway for the hell of it. I ended up getting a callback for Sweeney Todd.
Xanna's Journal 