Friday, December 23, 2011

Christmas is coming and the goose is getting fat...

please to put a penny in the old man's hat, 
if you haven't got a penny, a haypenny will do
if you haven't got a haypenny, then God Bless you!

My mother has this vhs tape that she recorded, probably before I was born, and it has almost every Christmas special I've ever loved on that tape.  That's a huge part of Christmas in America, watching Christmas specials and movies and just relaxing with your family as you enjoy them together.  The following (probably in order) are on that tape:
1. Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer
2. Charlie Brown Christmas Special
3. Santa Clause is Coming To Town
4. Muppet Christmas Special starring John Denver
5. Judy Garland's Christmas Special
6. A Christmas Carol starring Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck

I think there may be a few other things on there, because it had to be a 6 or 8 hour tape.  Do you remember those?  Your parents would say, "we don't have to buy the movie, we'll just record it with our vcr!" and not even everyone's vcr could do that if you couldn't hook it up to the cable box the correct way!!  This was DVR children, and because technology didn't move nearly as fast as it does now, that was DVR for around 25 years maybe more.

Getting back to the Christmas theme of this post, I just wanted to say that my Christmas list doesn't really include gifts.  My Christmas wish is to sit at my mom's house, be with my family, my dog, my boyfriend, and watch some fantastic childhood favorites.  I never feel like it's Christmas until I've watched that tape, and sometimes it brings a little tear to my eye when I put in Muppet Christmas Carol or a more adult comedy like The Ref.

Even though my life has had a lot of change and instability, those things don't change.  Rudolph will always be there to wish me a Merry Christmas, regardless of what house I'm living in or whether or not I'm in a good relationship.  It reminds me that Christmas will always be Christmas, and I will always have a mix of nostalgic tears and love for this wonderful family holiday.

So when you go home to your family, if they're driving you absolutely crazy or you're just not feeling like it's quite reached the holidays that you remember feeling like last year or as a child, put on A Christmas Story, or Scrooged, or the Year Without a Santa Clause... the list goes on and on and on.  Whatever your favorite was, and I bet everyone will hunker down even just for five minutes with you, remembering one of the many traditions that makes an American Christmas, your family Christmas.

(Keep a lookout for more Christmas posts)

Sunday, December 4, 2011

"Acting is happy agony" -- Jean-Paul Sartre

I have anxiety.  I've said this several times aloud, I've told many of my loved ones, and I've typed it many a time in this blog.  Ok, so I'm aware of the problem.  Sometimes, you can be perfectly aware of a problem but have no idea how to fix it. 

Today I got a phonecall from a therapist trying to "assess" me and see if I had depression or anxiety.  What, like I couldn't have both?  "India, you should seek someone in the Boston area  blah blah blah..."  Yeah, maybe if I had the time or if I cared enough to see someone.  I don't want to take a pill to solve my problems, I'm me for a reason and if a pill is going to change the way I think about things, how do I know it'll make me any better?

What if tomorrow I woke up and I didn't analyze things the way that I normally do?  What if I stopped being funny, or what if I couldn't write the way that I do anymore because my brain was messed with by a pill?  So I cry sometimes.  So I smoke cigarettes sometimes.  So I get anxious when I have a plan in my head and something small messes with it and I'm trying to react like a reasonable human and am having trouble doing that?  We all have problems.  At least I am aware of them and I know how to hide them.

I'm not good with surprises.  And I don't mean that I react badly to happy surprises, I mean that I don't know how to digest wrenches thrown into plans I make.  Even if they're plans I make in my own head.  My feelings get hurt far too easily and I have trouble not taking things personally.  I literally have to have a sit down with myself in my head and it goes something like this,
1) They're not coming over because they'd rather be doing something else than spend time with you.
2) No, you're wrong.  They have other things to do it's not as big of a deal to them as it is to you.
1) So they don't care about you, right?  You're not a priority to them to be with right now.
2) They have a life, just like I have a life.  I've blown people off or squeezed them in between things, too.
1) Don't act like your feelings are hurt.  They'll stop wanting to be around you if you act like a baby.
2) I'm not, I'm ok, really.  I'll find something else to do.  I'll pretend it's ok and then we'll have a better time next time they make the time for me.
1) They can see right through you. You're so needy and pathetic.
2)  I am not!  I do stuff on my own all the time, I'm fine then just like I'm fine now
1) You thought they were coming and now where are they?  Ignoring you.
2) Shut up!  They're not trying to hurt me, I'm just being a baby!

The back and forth goes on and on.  I'm crazy, but it's all in my head.  The logical side of me talks the depressed/anxiety ridden part of me out of being stupid.  I'm afraid sometimes that I'll push people away by letting them see how nutty I can be even when I know for a fact it's just a nutty reaction and I'm not convinced I'm right in any way when I have a spike of hurt feelings.  I'm so afraid of causing strife or separation, that I probably annoy people more by trying to smooth everything over and explain every feeling I'm having.

This is something I really have to work on personally, because I've been hurt by many friends and relationships in the past.  This year I have so many new friends and relationships, that it's somewhat of a mystery to me when they're genuine and faithful human beings.  When I get a compliment or an act/words of affirmation, I almost think it's a trick and I still have to tread lightly.

Maybe there's two people in all of us.  Most people are very good at compromising with themselves instead of battling.  I'm not so good.  I'd rather battle maybe.  Or maybe I don't know how else to cope.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

even little things are missed at the endii

im unable to use capitals or certain characters on my phone with this site. bear with me readers...

sometimes when im on the bus or in a carride, especially at nighttime, i feel like i could ride on forever. put on some music that pairs well with the stars and an empty highway, and ill be a good passenger. after a while, you see the clock and you stop caring about what time it is. theres no time in the world of cruise control. there are no deadlines on a dead road. and there are certainly no countdowns in your mind when you want nothing but to go on into eternity.

i remember lying late into the night in the passanger seat or even just in my own backyard under the stars hoping morning would absolutely never come.  those stars gave me hope. now i get helplessly lost in them, wondering what they really mean to me. do i still admire their beauty the way i used to long ago, or are they just a nostalgic reminder of something ive lost touch with and tried to forget?

that night on the beach under the stars was one of the best nights ive had in a long time. it was one of the nights i felt myself falling in love. a night that brought together a place in my heart, a person i was admiring, and the awe and wonder of the sky, all together into one memorable evening.  when we felt it was time to go, i knew it was late but i couldve frozen those couple hours in time for as long as father time wouldve given me a deal. but father time doesnt make deals. we just have to enjoy moments we have and deal with it. i could deal with it that night, because i knew it wasnt just that night. it was a night that would turn into many more.  i was certainly ok when i was granted the hope of more.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

9-5 doesn't always sound so terrible

As much as I like my freedom from over-the-table bullshit, I miss people.  I miss talking to people throughout the day, even if it's just for a moment.  Sometimes I really liked retail, especially when I worked at the lingerie boutique and I would give women advice on what looked amazing on them and have a laugh or two.  When the day would get really lonely (I used to open and close on my own) I would lean on the doorframe at the threshold and watch the vacationers of Newport walk by.  Little kids holding Daddy's hand, teenage girls walking the dog or pushing their bike along, the occasional soccer mom who would come into the store take one look at a price tag and then walk out... I didn't really blame them for leaving, I wasn't even making enough to buy things from my own store, but I was happy to have their company for a few minutes.

Every job has its bullshit moments.  Waitressing has about a hundred a day, but I have to say five pounds ago and I'm missing the running around for hours at a time and feeling an adrenalin rush of memorizing drinks and orders.  Flirting with a group of hungover college guys at brunch and you get a great tip, or complimenting the earrings of an otherwise snotty ceo woman and she'd want to know your whole life story.  I could've gone without the complaints about mixing up a side, or how someone's beer was slightly too bubbly, but at the end of the day I could say I made about a hundred people smile.

Now I work in a home.  I leave my home, and I go to a home.  Some days like today, I'm in the house. all. effing. day.  And the baby will also be in the house all day.  He's teething now, and today I just wanted to take him for a walk to distract him from the repetitiveness of his room.  But no, folding sheets and towels was more important this afternoon, and I still got almost none of it done because the baby decided he was going to have a fit since we were cooped up.  I'm not looking forward to winter. 

I just wish I could figure out more for him to do, or maybe I just need more advice on what'll make the kid happy when his gums hurt, blah blah blah.  One thing is for sure, my company all day is my boss, a baby, and a dog.  Sounds like a great gig, and most of the time it is.  But today I found myself in tears because I'm going stir crazy.  I was really looking forward to "crawling cuties class" so I could go hang out with a bunch of soccer moms and their babies for an hour.  Then the baby slept through the class and we didn't end up going.  ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!  I'm 22 years old, and that's what I look forward to. 

My job is not as awful as my complaining may make it sound.  In fact, I really have grown close to my boss as a dear friend, and advice giver, and the baby clings to me like a little orangutan.  BUT again, I miss people during the day, and I miss variety in a job.  I sometimes think my boss doesn't know that she's cooped up in the house all day because she works from home and is used to it, and she doesn't get when I laugh a little at her obsession with what shade of cream to paint the baby's room... Ok, so it's my job to listen to that part, but I really hate cream.

Also, I want to point out that several nannies have told me they make more than me and they don't do any of the housework that I do.... I'm at a loss about what I should do with that.  How do you talk to someone that has been treating you well, getting really close with you, and giving you the time off when you need it blah blah blah --- about the fact that they're technically not paying you to be a housekeeper and you weren't hired for higher than the description of "light housework" but it's slowly become something unexpected without you realizing until it's too late?!?  I feel sick to my stomach every time I look at her and think about bringing it up, but I feel sick with annoyance every time I have to scrub the countertops or iron a curtain.

Lately I've been thinking A LOT about going back to school for a brief period to become a medical assistant.  Maybe I'd make more or about the same money per hour but I'll actually have 40 hours a week like I desperately need, and I'd see people all day.  That's what I think the solution to my inner frustration is:  I'm not social enough throughout the day, and I'm obsessing over towels and a teething baby.  (ok, a really effing adorable teething baby)

Saturday, October 15, 2011

bitches and liars like to burn matches and spread fire, but can't deal with the heat when everything burns up around them

*disclaimer:  this does not talk about ONE person, just a lot who have contributed to hurting my feelings as of late whether it was by blatant or subtle action.

I find that throughout my life since about the middle of high school, I have had trouble making and keeping friendships with girls.  Guys, not a problem, and a lot of the time I figured it was because I just don't care about the same things that girls always care about.  I don't like to gossip about girls that I don't know, I never know who "so-and-so" just broke up with, and I have no idea which girl can't stand some other girl.

First of all, I don't even bother asking.  If you're not a friend of mine and we don't talk on a regular basis, it's none of my business which guy friend of ours you have a crush on, and who you've just broken up with.  So honestly, people can't be mad that I don't know these things.  That's the other thing, girls can be deemed nosy or bitchy for asking too many questions and getting into other girls' personal lives, or they can just be labeled as a snob for not caring.

Here's my main reason for not always being able to initially connect with other girls:  I don't know how to approach them and actually talk to them to show them that I'm a nice girl who really would love to be friends with them.  It's essentially the same way that a science geek boy feels about approaching a cheerleader and ask her to prom.  I get nervous, I automatically assume that a girl will not like me or doesn't want to talk to me, and sometimes maybe I might be right because I find no problem or hesitance with speaking to the men we know.

Fast forward to something that has happened to me many times:  girls that don't know me, often tell other people that I must be sleeping with these guy friends of mine that I laugh and act somewhat flirty with.  With an open personality like mine, I often have flirty tendencies.  I'll admit this fully, and I will say that I find nothing wrong with it, but could this possibly be that a girl who has no connection with me would rather assume that I'm a slut instead of bothering to get to know me?

This used to make me really angry, but as of late it just plain hurts my feelings.  In college I would say, "fuck you I'll never have to talk to you again and we're in a temporary state of our lives".  Nowadays I'm trying so hard to fit in to this group of people in the scene I've fallen in love with in Boston, and these girls would just as soon assume that a guy who drives me home or walks me to the bus stop because they're my friend and are being NICE and not letting me go home ALONE in the ghetto of Charlestown or wherever else, that I just must be a slut and I'm fucking them.  Sorry for trying to be safe and having guys for friends. 

But then again, we all know some people are gossipers and find any excuse to stir things up whether they are male or female because they get a kick out of it and don't realize how much it hurts your feelings.  I've even had guys tell other people we know that they've fucked me or that we had something going on between us even though it literally was the opposite of true.  Most groups I've been a part of, at some point people start making things up when they don't bother to be friends with me in the first place, they assume I don't like them when I'm kind of just afraid to approach them because girls can be so mean and judgy, and at some point I feel like I can't trust anyone and I tend to give up which is why I quit my sorority when I could barely connect with anyone due to my shyness and their inability to care.  People will lie and accuse and assume, but they will never admit to half of their own shit that's probably worse, or logically admit that they never took the time to talk to the parties concerned and find out the truth.

I don't know what goes on in a guys mind when he thinks it's ok to just make things up.  Or girls for that matter when they just assume things without bothering to ask you in the first place.  People in general don't realize how much it hurts another person when they're using them as a form of entertainment in a negative and piercing way.  You don't consider feelings or circumstance or reality when you want something to talk about to distract you from a shitty day, right?  You don't consider that maybe it causes a whirlwind that's uncontrollable gossip and can do permanent damage to how a person is viewed by others because people would rather believe negative shit and enjoy it than think they're just some person and haven't really done anything worth talking about, especially nothing that concerns you.

Long story short, I've done a lot of dumb things in my life, but one thing I can pride myself on is that I'm not a gossiper or a bold face liar, and I don't bother with other people's shit unless it concerns me.  If someone wants to fuck half the people we know, I don't care unless they got knocked up or they're trying to fuck my boyfriend.  Then it's either funny or they might get punched.  But I also know what it means to be a fucking professional and I'm trying to be an actor.  I went through my crazy college days, I don't need more mistakes following me around, and I'm attempting to be an actor and a fucking professional human being.

Most of my friends are dudes, I get along with them better than judgmental and girls who care about dumb things that I don't care to even consider unless you care enough to be my friend and you tell me it's important to you that I should care about them.  Your past, your feelings, your past relationships, your things that annoy you, I will never know these things so you can't expect dick from me and then shut me out.  Guys don't give a crap about this stuff either, maybe I should just start telling people I'm a lesbian and they'll get that my concerns are not those of a cliquey high school chick.  I don't watch other people and guess who they're hooking up with, I just like to enjoy my life and be good to other people and not intentionally slander them or hurt them and that's it.

So deal with it.

Sunday, October 2, 2011

50th post

This weekend a lot of stuff happened.  I felt mad, ditched, and unappreciated for different reasons and by different people.  But I also felt achieved, loved, and helpful to others for a few different reasons and different people as well.  Let me rant first and then I'll gloat.

Here's a tip to any male readers that are thinking of me in any romantic or inappropriate capacity:  if you want anything from me, you will not even get a hint of the color of my panties unless you also want to know what my favorite color is.  Or my favorite food, what I like to do in my free time, what my hobbies are, what makes me laugh, annoyed, sad, mad, or anything related to the above.  I'm a girl who's all the over the place with my likes, dislikes, emotions and creativity.  I do a lot of things, I like to be busy, and I'm a giant ball of energy that's going to be in your face and never misses a beat, especially if it's a beat of bullshit waiting to be called out. 

Long story short:  a date.  Girls want dates.  It has nothing to do with money.  It has nothing to do with being spoiled.  It has to do with the fact that two people who are interested in each other should get to know each other on an intellectual level of intimacy before getting intimate, *ahem* on other levels.   If a guy makes an effort to show that he has respect for a woman that he admires, then he gains her respect in return.  By hanging out with a female before 10pm in public, you are saying that you are proud to be with this girl for all the world to see that you have positive intentions.  And a date does not mean girlfriend, it just means you're being a decent human being by getting to know someone and going about it in the proper order.  I went to college, and hookups and backwards "relationships" that are nothing like having an honest and real connection with someone, are just not my thing anymore.  Pretty sure I quit my sorority days of making myself a little too available.  The next guy that says to me, "Hey come over to my place" I just want to punch you in the dick.

I guess it would be mildly appropriate that this 50th post is a post of a new beginning.  I post a lot of those.  I usually say, "This time I'm serious" or "I really mean this this time."  But what are you gonna do, right?  You live and you learn to make the same stupid mistakes over and over again until your head hurts to much to get back up and make the mistake again.  Your tears dry up and you just can't even cry anymore over the things you used to cry over, even though you really want to and maybe being sad was a comfort of familiarity.  Being happy is almost too foreign to enjoy.  Something is bound to go wrong when you're this happy.  Then somehow you're right.  But that's the lesson of stupidity.  Hit yourself in the head with a rock enough times and thinking that the rock will squeeze out water is just giving you a headache.  (I'm not always good with metaphoric rants at 2am)

OK done with this subject.  I'm moving forward with myself and I refuse to get into the nasty habit of dwelling anymore.  IN OTHER NEWS I ran a 5k this weekend.  There is nothing better than doing something you thought you could never do, and actually succeeding without fucking up.  The first mile, I was basically pulling The Tortoise and The Hare routine.  I started off much slower than most people around me, but ended up passing them by maintaining the speed and then ran the first mile in under eleven minutes, and ended up power walking a lot of the second mile, but then started running again in the third.  I could barely believe it!! 

I was convinced I was in terrible shape, and there I was doing something to prove that I had it in me.  As I'm jogging along and squeezing my side to hold in a cramp, I thought, "It's just you and me, God.  We doin this thing?  For everyone else who's running and for the homeless coalition, it's just you and me keeping this pace."  An older gentlemen came up alongside me as we had been passing each other a good deal of the second mile, and he says, "Come on now, you have to beat ME!" We finished together, as I decided we were in the same team of attempting to not puke or lose a lung.  (It wasn't that bad...)

Running has always been something I thought, "I can't do that.  I'll never have the stamina or lung power to run."  Guess what?  I proved myself wrong.  Maybe I'll keep doing more of these.  Maybe I'll even keep running as something I do on a regular basis instead of the elyptical. 

Crazy times for Miss India Pearl changing herself in a lot of ways this past year.  We're all here to find happiness whilst running along the road of life, right?  Is that the finish line?  Well I'm getting there, no matter how many times I fall on the pavement on the way.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Librarian(ism) is a SCIENCE... right?

As most of my friends know, I like to tell stories.  I love to tell big, tall tales, and see how many people I can get to believe them before I say halfway through the story, "just kidding, I'm making this up!" and we have a laugh.  Of course this isn't mean-spirited, it's all in good fun and I never make things up to hurt people's feelings.  But my favorite stories are the ones that I tell to complete strangers.  Like the math teacher that I met at the bar a few weeks ago and told him I was a librarian.  I felt that this was a perfectly boring thing to be in a man's eyes, and he wouldn't ask me more questions before buying me a drink.  Boy was I wrong!!!

I had to remember everything I had ever learned about becoming a librarian when I was supporting this scheme I had come up with for a free cocktail. 
"Where did you go to school?  What did you major in to become a librarian??" he asked.
"Well, I went to Simmons of course, and I studied... library... science?" Somehow, that part was actually true.  Librarians go to school to be librarians.  It's not the easiest job in the world, and apparently there's a science to it.  And maybe there was another reason why I knew all about this...

My grandmother was a librarian.  Was?  IS, she is a librarian I should say, because I don't think that when you are something for thirty-plus years you can just give it up and not be that thing anymore.  She still socializes with her librarian friends, reads more books than I can possibly imagine, and is so smart and articulate.  She's also fair, has a mind for equality, not the least bit racist or prejudice, (except maybe she doesn't like Muslims, but who can blame her when our family came to America after the Christian Massacre in Turkey?  Don't comment on that) and an all-around great woman to have for a grandmother. 

When my grandpa Henry died 23 years ago, that was it.  She still wears his ring and she'll meet him in Heaven.  What a love she must've had for him, right?  So admirable.

I think it's because I hate the idea of her getting old when she wasn't always that old, or because my Nana is so young in comparison, but I just can't believe she's almost 80!  I mean, she's perfectly fine and doesn't seem inhibited in any way so far as I can tell.  I hate to even think about it when she says, "I'm old, this isn't my real hair color you know!" and she's laughing while I'm already sad.  I'm a very pathetic human being when it comes to sadness.  Nostalgia creeps up on me before there's a real reason to get nostalgic.  It's like I'm revving up for what I know is coming, and pre-programming my thoughts for what they should be about for when I'm sad and missing the moment that I'm in right now.

The fact that my grandmother reads so many books, is one of the things that I admire most about her.  I wish I had the time to read more, because even though I read the paper every day, I want to read so many things that I probably should have already!  I've never read Jane Austin, I've only seen the movies.  Lord of the Rings?  Nope, never did it.  The Great Gatsby?  I could keep going all night with all the classics that "everyone's read" and I haven't.  She's not even a working librarian, and she's still reading all the time!  What's wrong with me??

While I work on my time management skills and my polish up on my common literature, I think I need to make the following thing a goal of mine:  Before my grandmother passes away, I want to write a book.  I want to write a book that everyone will want to read.  As she sits in her backyard on a nice warm sunny afternoon and sips lemonade, my grandmother could be reading my book that I wrote, and that's one of the things that i want the most.  She'd really be proud of me.

(And for those doubters out there, her mother lived to be 94 so I think I might have a realistic amount of time to complete this goal.)

Saturday, September 24, 2011

cold is the water, it freezes your already cold mind (but you are not alone in this)

I think I should delete Mumford and Sons off of my computer, out of my phone, and hide the cd away in my Europe box with my other memories.  Some people love the band so much, and I won't lie and say I don't think they're an amazingly talented band with great tunes.  But I will say that I have too many memories attached with that music, and right now I need not remember them.  Sometimes music can alternate your mood so much, that it affects you for days.  I'll listen to some country tunes and feel ramped and happy, but I'll turn on The Weepies and wonder why I even bother.  I think bands are ruined when I share them with other people.  Some of my favorite songs used to make me smile and now I have to skip over them in my playlist.

One year ago, I went to England.  It's about the one year anniversary to the Fresher's Ball.  There's a picture of me and my two French friends, such great and wonderfully goodhearted girls.  And now they are living in France, and I am here.  Laicia loved Mumford, and so did practically all of our friends.

There was someone I dated briefly, before or in between when I was seeing my Irish boy (I don't always like to talk about the Irish one, it's a very long story on its own).  I'm almost ashamed to bring it up, because this English one really was such a nice guy, but I wasn't ready for nice.  He played guitar at the church, big buff blue eyed blonde, and on our first date he bought me the Mumford & Sons cd.  I had never heard of them, and according to him, that was unacceptable.  I really got into them, and was very impressed that he played guitar so well because he played a few of their songs almost to a tee.  He didn't take our split very well.  A part of me wishes I had gotten along better with him, but life can't be about what-ifs.  Maybe I just wish I could apologize.  Or maybe the music is messing with my head.  Oh goodness, my church friends I miss entirely too much as well.

This week has been especially hard because not only have I been wishing I could go back, but I've been dreaming about my friends and hanging out with them in our kitchen, drinking cheap wine and getting terrible Domino's pizza, laughing about playing "Never Have I Ever..." with bad English.  We told secrets, shared stories, laughed, cried, fought, got drunk, had goodnight kisses at the back door, did homework, avoided homework, cooked, people-watched, and squeezed as many people as we could into this little tiny kitchen of our flat that had no livingroom and a couch.

That was what I dreamed about twice this week, at least.  Our awful, bare, cheap kitchen, that ended up being our favorite room in the house.  We'd knock on the back door and enter each other's flats through these kitchens in the complex of Park Wood, making faces through the window until someone came to answer.  We had a Thanksgiving dinner with what may have been almost 30 people, and multiple goodbye parties the last couple weeks of school.  I remember my first cup of tea at the table was with Auggy, and I felt so grownup talking about our new friends over a cup of tea.  Many cups of tea were poured over discussions and one-on-one sitdowns.  That was our social life outside of the pub, gathering in all of our kitchens, maybe bringing a guitar and keeping the back door open for all the smoking and drinking that would go on outside.  The table saw every kind of cheap alcohol, roasted birds, pancake and egg suppers, and more junk food and baked goods than we needed to take note of.  And it was ours.  Our little kitchen.

I hope I don't dream tonight.  My friends are living all over the planet, and I don't know why I miss Kent so much when it's all lost now.  Not so lost in our hearts, but we graduated and most of my closest friends are no longer students there, so it would never be the same.  A part of my life really is over, so I hope I don't dream about it because my dreams are always so real.  As much as I would love to see my friends, I'll wake up and our kitchen will be my bedroom, with no electric kettle, no curry-stained dishtowel, no plexiglass uncomfortable chairs that I miss even though I hated those too, no sink that always seemed to splatter water all over everywhere, and no laughter from those that I wonder if they miss me as I miss them.

They'll never know how much joy they really gave me by being such great friends.  And sometimes it's painful to try to stay in touch; who can keep up with schedules 6 hours apart?  But really, my sanity was found when I was there.  Sure I missed home, and I was sad for it around the holidays, but I'll say it again I found out what a real friend is when I got away.  I had support for all my acting shows, hugs and kisses and tea when I was crying over a boy, motivation and cookies when we all had ten or twenty page papers, and everything in between.

I had fun and friends at UMass, but looking back at Kent I know exactly how my friends felt when they were sad at graduation.  I won't miss Amherst like I miss Canterbury.  I was free at that college, and not shut up in a cage with no growth in my skills in school or begging for friends like a lost puppy in a meaningless house.  I mean at least the few friends I did make at UMass I still have here, because if they were thousands of miles away I would have absolutely noone.

God, I hope I don't dream tonight.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Something I have noticed (or not noticed)

I have somewhat been realizing that when I go go go for a long period of time, my days feel so rushed and anything I do while I'm doing it, (cooking dinner, having a conversation, doing comedy) it's over so fast that I barely remember it happening.  It's like I'm waiting to be done with everything, so much so that I don't take the time to be present and enjoy anything.  I don't even like being drunk anymore, because this effect is put into hyperdrive.  When drunk, it's almost like I'm pushing fast forward on my entire night and it was already going by very fast to begin with.

I find myself barely becoming engaged with anything, and when I think about the past few weeks, it seems like it all happened months ago.  Staying present in a moment is like grabbing onto something inches away that keeps inching further and further away until my brain gives up all hope of sanity.  It's scary, I think about how I don't remember things and enjoy the memory as if it were today, it's as if I think of something recent and struggle to feel as though it just happened because it's all cloudy.

I've felt this before, where I feel like I'm floating and barely conscious; am I overtired? anxious? dead and don't remember dying? having a mental breakdown? on drugs?

Well I'm alive, and I haven't had any anxiety lately, and I'm certainly not on drugs.  So overtired and mental breakdown seem to be going neck and neck.

My current theory is this:  I am alone A LOT throughout the day, and a lot throughout this past summer I was alone.  This is due to always going going and more going.  Go on the bus, go on the train, go to work, go to make a bottle, go to get something to eat, go to use your phone, go to dinner, go to the bar, go up onstage, go home, go to bed.  When I'm around other people it's so easy to be present, but I also find myself to be tired and I don't always have interest in keeping all the conversations that I have, and somehow want to just go to bed or do something else.  Then when I'm alone I'm upset with everything because my brain seems to be malfunctioning and I'm trying to remember someone's name I just met and if I had fun when I was at the comedy club.  Yes, it's that bad.

So I'm aware there is an issue, right?  Why am I not seeking help?  Because I have a distinct feeling that if this is related to being overtired or having some sort of crazy bipolar disorder, then I will have to be on meds for something and that will just make my floating feeling get even worse.  So then what?  Well, I find my mind much more snappy when I am conversing with others and around people, so my solution is to get out and force myself to be more social I suppose... thought I was doing enough already.  I've gotta be overtired, that's probably key here somewhere.  Isn't there something written somewhere that says your brain barely sucks in information when you're overtired?  So that's it then, right?  Or maybe I'm slipping away slowly but surely.  Who knows.  But it's very hard to find motivation to do anything lately and I'm very upset about that.

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

your dreams can tell you things

I have a history of having dreams about people or events and then feeling as though it were God telling me something.  Afterwards I'll wake up, have a sinking feeling in my stomach because I probably know exactly why I had that dream in the first place.   I've also had many dreams that have taken place in another period of time, a huge reason why I'm a Christian, some people call it dejavous. 

When a person is the subject of a dream I have, there aren't usually any special circumstances or a dialogue that happens between us.  They're always just sort of... there.  We're hanging out, or maybe I realize I haven't seen them in a while and we hug.  I've had occurrences where I only see them standing there and smiling at me, but the smile always seems to be saying to me, "Hey, remember me?  You forgot for a little, but I'm still around and we should catch up."  And I wake up with a pangs of something, maybe nostalgia, guilt, or even just missing them a little.

I think it's a mix between my personal preference to avoid losing touch with my friends, like, ever.  And I'm serious, because my longest friend is from kindergarten.  I would hate to see her in ten years and say, "Oh we haven't even spoken during that period of time."  This week I had a mixture of old friends and newerish friends with me on a mini vacation, and I couldn't have been happier.  It just goes to show how truly amazing my friends are to mutually want to continue our friendship.  But getting back to dreams...

The other night I dreamed that I was at my home church, Millbury Federated.  I saw that the church choir was missing a member, and I wanted to be in it.  They said, "Sure, Tuesday night we're just having a small audition process, you should totally come!" So while I'm thinking I have an "in", I show up and it's like frickin American Idol!  Hundreds of people are lining up around the stairwells of the church waiting to try out for the church choir, including a large group of gospel singing high school students from a southern background.  I felt horrible, like I couldn't ever do it, like I sucked and didn't have a chance.  There were too many others there, and I would never be in that choir.  I tried practicing songs, and I forgot all of the words.  They kept telling me I was next in line, but people kept cutting me and trying out before I even had a chance.  The judges were going to sit near the altar, and our audition was up in the balcony, which makes perfect sense right?! This dream was absolutely ridiculous.

Suddenly, I remembered all the words to a worship song that I love to sing because it's beautiful and says all the things I wish I could've thought up to say.  Right when I was feeling confident, I woke up.  Maybe that was God's way of saying, "Hey, you're gonna be ok you just have to trust Me and yourself."  Geez, I hope so.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

lessons of trust

I have a hard time trusting people.  I think it's because I used to feel like I could trust anyone, and I've gotten screwed too many times to delve into the behavior again.  I learn hard lessons between always wanting to see the best in people, wanting to believe that everyone is inherently good or friendly, that I can connect with people and make lasting friendships or connections, and then having relationships not work out and fizzle, or having friends do shitty things to you, or trusting when someone says they'll do you a favor or stay in touch, and then they simply disappear.

This week I have been severely questioning my own ability of skepticism.  Maybe I need to be more critical of others and their words.  Maybe when someone says, "Hey I know so and so at this theater," or "You should call me because I want to help you out and connect you with this casting person for such and such commercial blah blah blah"  Even non career-related connections where you think you'll become good friends with someone you just met and you can't really be sure if they mean what they say.  Maybe people do mean what they say, but their lives are too busy and you're too new in their life to matter as much as other things.  I guess we've all done it to someone at some point where we couldn't come through on a favor or a promise because we don't consider it vital to do so.  But what happens to the person we slowly forgot?

I find in this business, I am going to have to not let myself initially believe what people tell me until I have some sort of proof.  I can't let myself depend on a favor or someone simply saying that they will help me out or they have something for me.  This sounds negative and sucky, but it's more like I'm growing up a little bit with each month that passes since my moving to the city.  You can't put all your eggs in one basket, and you shouldn't, because there are more baskets than you think if you keep looking for them.  And most of the time you'll lose those eggs when the basket is given to someone else.

I guess I just have to keep crossing my fingers that things don't keep seeming as though they're in my favor and I have prospects, and that I really will actually have fucking prospects.  In a slight moment of anger, instead of excusing a behavior that I probably have had in the past as well just like everyone else, I think that it's actually really fucking rude to not keep your word to someone.  I'm pretty sure the bible says something about meaning what you say to people.

But instead I'll just move on I suppose, work my job, look for opportunities, take another acting class, keep involved, keep on my feet, not get too down on myself, and remember that I'm trying.  Even if I have to be a little more selfish and a lot more skeptical, at least I'll be trying.

"You have a disadvantage as an actor, because you're a young, Irish looking female, in Boston.  You have to prove that you're not like everyone else, and it's going to be hard for you.  But if you want to do it badly enough, you'll get there."

Ugh. Believe me, I know.

Sunday, July 31, 2011

swiss cheese hearts attract menacing rats

swiss cheese hearts attract the most menacing rats
they have no heart, they have no tact
only teeth that grow and grow and nibble more holes into your empty soul

...Sounds like a start to a very depressing song.  I'm good at that.  Writing depressing songs and coming up with lyrics in a thirty second whim.  For those of you who keep track of my blog and read it on a regular basis, you'll slowly start to figure out a pattern that I have.  I go to a new place, I get really excited about going there, getting started, I feel refreshed, new, reborn, in love with life, and overall joyful.  Then after about a month I start to worry, and then a month after that I slip into my own head, get lost in my own thoughts, and have crippling bouts of nostalgia.

While I am incredibly aware of the unhealthy patterns my brain decides to go through, I am reminded of something that a pastor said to myself and some other youths a long time ago:  "Why would I want to give my wife a heart full of holes?" and that never left my mind.  As I dip into the duldrums of morbid reflection, and tumble deep into the catacombs of my past, I sense the same pattern repeating over and over and over again.  So as I start to reflect on how my heart is full of holes because of all the shitty relationships I've been in, some happy and then ending abruptly, some horrible and ending like a slowly screeching car wreck, I can't stop thinking about what went wrong and why.  Then I snowball that negativity into other areas of my life and I feel like nothing will ever work out and my life absolutely sucks.

What the heck is my problem?!  God is going to continue to shove the hard lesson of patience in my face until I get the picture.  There is no perfect place to live, there is no perfect job, there is no perfect man who will make all my fears and worries disappear.  I am an emotionally fucked up human being, and my life will only be perfect when I stop to heal all my brokenness.  I go go go go GO GO GO so much so that I don't have to think about the fact that I'm not always very happy.  My schedule is so packed that I barely sleep, because I hate being alone all by myself late at night and getting caught up in my own thoughts.  Haunting thoughts that say, "you're alone" "you're never going to be an actor" "you're never going to finish that book" "you're going to end up 30 and in the same place you are now" "(literally any past relationship's name inserted) was too good for you" "(insert random lost friendship) was your fault because you didn't try hard enough"

My. brain. won't. stop. killing. me. inside.

My dear friend listened to me cry on the phone tonight; a friend that used to be one of my failed relationships, turned into one of the most amazing people that I know and we equally confide in each other about how much our lives can suck sometimes.  Then again, I think we're both so positive about other people's lives working out because SOMETHING has to make up for ours not always working the way we want them to, and then we say the most encouraging things possible to uplift each other's spirits.  I'm going to miss his words of wisdom, and he'll miss mine as he is on his way to the Peace Corps this week.   Good friends that keep in touch are hard to come by these days.

I need prayer, and I need to meditate and calm the fuck down so I can focus long enough to figure out how to reach my goals so I'll stop worrying all. the. time.
...and I need to slow down a little so I'm not always going.  Go go go doesn't exactly help me practice guitar or write.

In other news, I lost five pounds and I fit into my clothes again so at least my body isn't another awful part of my issues at this moment in time.  I can only handle so many things on my list of "things to obsess over at one in the morning".

Sunday, July 24, 2011

eating healthy should be affordable... oh wait, it is.

Now, when i was a kid we didnt have much to live on. Somehow my mother was the penny pinching queen and only bought things when she absolutely had to. I remember her saying that a can of soup and grilled cheese was sometimes dinner, but we were so little that we didn't complain or care much. Regarding myself, I don't have the same frugality that I maybe should have, but it is quite similar. My food shopping habits still tend to lean towards buying things I may use next week because it was on sale; a trait most women find hard to resist.

My whole point is that even though I am currently living as an intern and an out of work actress, I see no reason to stop eating healthy and cheaply. This post is dedicated to the wonderful world known as: Trader Joe's.

I didn't always know about this place. Well, I suppose I just didn't know how inexpensive it was until I started shopping for myself! You could say I have shopped at my fair share of Super Walmarts, and I even gave MarketBasket a try. But who could resist the idea that organic produce and well prepared commodities would be in the same price range?

The enemy in the situation where people seem to be unaware as to how affordable this store is, is the idea that "organic means expensive" or that "healthier equals bigger cost" is the idea presented by smaller snobby healthfood stores with waterfall machines and socalled expert homeopathic staff members that make you feel bad for waking up without meditating or having a cup of coffee instead of herbal healing organic tea. There are also the larger monopolizing corporations such as the evil that is Whole Foods.

Whole Foods is so much more of a significant expense than I deem necessary, that I don't even bother shopping there on a rare occasion.  I find it ridiculous that my block of extra firm tofu should ever be more than two bucks, and that they just slap the word organic on a leafy green decorated label which automatically puts the marketing idea into a consumer's noggin that they are putting in more of their dollar for a higher value and investing in their body.  Places such as Trader Joes or even the local supermarket have the same products for less cost without using fancy tricks such as a nice setting or superstore appeal.

A few weeks ago I went into my local meat market. They have a a reasonable selection of produce, and any cut of met you could think of, for a ridiculously low cost.  One of my original reasons for going forward with my vegetarianism was because the cost of meat at the supermarket vs the cost of substitutive proteins.  That whole idea was debunked when i saw chicken breast for 99cents/lbs.  I could go on, but essentially buying local meat from a market or the butcher saves money and its certainly better for you just based on the fact that you can see the quality being freshly produced before your eyes.  Perdue will not be in my grilling future so long as lovely family owned places like McKinnons remain in business.

Not wanting to go on forever, my last point would be that food stamps are now accepted at the farmers market!  Where else can you get high quality farm grown cheap veg and comodities for an affordable rate?  I would urge anyone to put down the potato chips and go pick up some local spuds any day of the week.  The system can work for those less fortunate, without them ever having to pick up another can of spaghettios.  I can only hope that people explore their options and local food marts, or places like Traders, before resolving to frozen and canned because they are either unaware or its simply the easy route.  Who's with me?

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Ted... story line reminds me of my favorite childhood film Drop Dead Fred hmm where'd you get the idea Mr. MacFarlane??

So there I was, planning my day and how I had to go back to Boston because of load in tomorrow (theater-lingo for building the set in essentially twelve hours) when the beautiful and lovely internet/text updates from Boston Casting alerted me to extras needed this evening for an upcoming Mark Wahlberg film.  Seth MacFarlane wrote/is directing the comedy, so obviously I wanted to go check this out.  A free concert at the Charles Esplanade?  Why thank you kindly, I think I shall partake.  Here was my experience of this wonderful evening where I spent my first time on a real movie set....

Lights, cameras   ...and not a whole lot of action.  This is the speed of movie sets.  You move a light, you move a lens, you see how that looks.  You have someone "stand-in" (they're called stand-ins) for who knows how long so they can see exactly how it'll show up on the camera, and basically everything is sitting and waiting, sitting and waiting, and then it's lights, camera... three takes of about 30 seconds to 2 minutes apiece.  This is all trivial stuff I learned in film school, but interesting to see nonetheless. I figured we'd be sitting for a while and be bored out of our skulls until Norah Jones would come out to do her thing with Marky Mark.

THEN I saw him!!  And I don't mean Mark Wahlberg, because let's be honest here people, it's Boston.  He's from here, I'm not wetting my pants over it, granted he is pretty fucking cool with his "I'm a Bostonian and we invented laid back Nor-east cool" swag, but I'm talking about someone that I truly would die to sit down for lunch with and pick his brain:  Seth MacFarlane.  (aside from brain picking, he's just so darn cute) I looked over to my right, and felt my stomach turn in knots as I realized I would be within fifty feet or so from him for the remainder of the evening.  I could literally see right into his station with the monitors and his posse, and I thought I may either vomit or die of happiness.

That's right ladies and gentlemen, I wasn't drooling over the underwear model, because my knees were turning to mush as Seth did his cartoon voices to entertain the extras and give directions over the V.O.G. mic.  My life was made complete, and I never wanted to leave.  I wish I could've worked on this film every flippin day this week, I was so giddy like a freakin 16 year old girl just being able to stand there!  You know how those freaks in the movies would scream and faint when Elvis came onstage?  Yeah that was a little close to me, except my gut reminded me that if I want to get into this business I have to get over star-struck-lights-camera-action-oh-my-gawd-I'm-really-on-a-movie-set fever QUICK.  Hey, I want to be a comedian, right?  Famiy Guy is part of American pop culture and he's a smart and hilarious dude.  So why shouldn't I be impressed by the fact that I got to watch the guy at work??

And this also hit me during my pangs of excitement:  
If I don't make it as an actor/comedian/whatever, I will never be able to look at myself in the mirror ten years down the road.  I've said this a million times when I'm feeling down and whathaveyou, but tonight was so motivating.  The energy and realization of that "ah-hah!" moment was astounding.  In the thick of it all, as I edged closer to the crew and gawked at their lingo I had that moment that not everyone has in their lives that said, "I WANT TO DO THIS AND I WILL DIE IF I DON'T!"  Do you know how many people think of themselves as empty human beings because nothing ever moves them to the point of an innate inner need to take part?  That's how you know where you belong, man!!!  My five-year-old self was screaming at the top of her lungs, "I want to be in movies!" louder than I've ever heard her scream before. if I could just figure out how the HELL I'm gonna do that, there's my first step.

(only shitty part is public transit ends at 12:30 so I had to leave farrrrrr too early *tear*)

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

"be careful when you're flying..."

That's what a stranger said to me a while back when my bike wheel was broken.  He said, "be careful when you're flying" and it sticks in the back of my mind and reaches down to jab my gut every time I think things are going really well.  I've said it before and I'll quote Charlie Brown yet again when I say, "I think I'm afraid of being happy because whenever I get too happy something bad always happens."  It's sadly the everyday that is my life.

Don't get me started on how my dating life is relevant to this philosophy, but rather now I'll mention the fact that I thought I had a really great waitressing job at a sports bar, and I was telling all my friends and family how much I loved it, I was making great tips, and it was one of the best jobs I've ever had.  What do you know?  One bratty waitress seems to get colder to me the nicer I am to her, and another of which that I offer to take a shift for or babysit for because I'm that nice, barks at me and tattles on me that I'm doing a shitty job when maybe it would've been nice of her to explain to me like a human what I was doing wrong in the first place before getting my ass in a bad opinion of others.  This is why I hate girls and I don't trust people.

My manager literally couldn't name specific reasons as to what I was doing wrong when I asked him to, because when he tried to I was explaining my side of things right off the bat in a clear and concise manner.  "You're not fired," he says, "we're just looking for that extra bit of hussle... you're smart, you get along with everyone, you know the computer well, you've really put in an effort blah blah blah bla..."  nothing he was really saying could match up well with my questions.  And if another restaurant called he would recommend me?!  Didn't quite get why you wouldn't want to keep me, then.  "We're unable to focus the time to train you more properly to fit in here." "When you hired me, you said you wanted girls with less experience so you COULD train them to how things work around here." He had nothing to say to that, except that other waitresses felt I didn't fit in.  Well that explains it all, doesn't it?

Oh, and of course there's girls who took my picture at the bar when I was out with them and texted my "bad behavior" or whatever they would call a night out with the girls, to the manager.  Yep, don't trust any bitches you haven't known since middle school, pretty much that's my motto save for a handful of people.  And never get too comfortable with anyone, 'cause people will end up failing you most of the time.  I'm amazed at how naive I can be.

Thursday, June 30, 2011

I could write a song about this

.. but I don't want to have one of those really lame cut my wrist songs that sounds like Barney if all the kids left the tree house.  Did he live in a tree house?  My mom hated Barney and never let me watch it, so forgive me if that's a completely wrong interpretation of wherever the heck he hung out with small children.

I think a lot about the friends that I had over college, and mostly the ones I lost touch with.  Some of them we weren't that close to begin with, some of them I couldn't stand in the first place, but some of them I figured we'd stay friends until we had careers and families, but we'd still stay in touch with phone calls and Christmas cards, maybe an annual "let's get drunk and talk about old times" night.  I think it's sad that people lie to your face just because you bump into them that they miss you and they want to hang out with you all the time, and they barely bother to look at a text message and you're eventually strictly commenting on each others' facebooks.

This isn't in reference to my friends that live out of state; obviously we're both guilty of not seeing each other in quite some time, and I apologize that money and school has gotten in the way of us catching up.  I don't like to name names, (I did that when I was fifteen and my livejournal blew up with nasty comments haha oohhhh high school) but I get a little pang of sadness when I start to analyze whether I was really friends with someone in the first place, or if it was simply circumstantial.   Am I better off without them?  Are they better off without me?  Do they want to call me and catch up as well but they figure it's probably been too long?  Maybe something happened where we had a spat and they figure I hold grudges, when in reality I usually forget about something in five minutes and want to move on. 

I know that growing up you lose some friends, but I don't like to let that go.  I think it's stupid to lose touch, because if someone meant a lot to you at an important part of your life, you should keep in touch.  You should try to see them once a year, and keep them in your prayers and good thoughts if they're just not living near you or they're in a different part of life than you are right now. 

So if you're reading this and you think you're one of those friends, just know that I think about you, you, and you, even this friend from fifth grade that I could never find on facebook but we used to have sleepovers every single weekend and then her family ended up in assisted living they were so poor and I wonder if she's pregnant or she went to college because she was so fucking smart. 

Wishing we could equally try to stay in touch,

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

earnestly seeking Him

“And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to Him must believe that He exists and that He rewards those who earnestly seek Him”
(Hebrews 11:6, NIV)
 "...earnestly seek Him"       hmm... something to think about.  Just that piece of the verse made me think this morning.  I remember waking up and thinking, "I've prayed this week, but have I been to church since I've moved?  Have I journaled lately out of guilt, or because I was seeking a connection with God?"  As I walked out the door, I grabbed my book for the T but I also grabbed my journal.
 Let's be real here.  I'll be on the T for about 40 minutes getting back to Medford later this afternoon, and will I read Stephen King, or will I journal?  This book I've been reading is seriously addicting.  But for the first time in a couple weeks my brain is getting used to this new hectic schedule I've accumulated, and now it clicked; where has you heart been sitting with God this month?  
 My faith is something that is never waivering or shaken.  The thing that is hard to keep up is feeling that God is with you, and actively having Him in your heart throughout the day.  I sometimes envy those women with smiles on their faces, a tune under their breath, and an aura of serenity about them.  Maybe they're going through hard times, but they seem to just know that God is right there holding their hand and singing with them.  
I'm the sort of person that is disappointed easily, I put on a good tough persona and tell people how it is, but in the end I cover up a lot of things.  I used to show all of my emotions but I started to feel like it hurt my relationships/friendships and made me look weak or needy.  Now I appear to be very strong, and I am not saying I'm a weak person, but I'm very good at "repressing everything down" and hiding it.  (I quote that because a close friend of mine once said she thought I was happy and that I must repress everything if I was bothered by the negatives of my life.)
I need to just be more settled in this new life of mine.  For the first time in a long time I feel like I'm no longer transitioning and that my job and opportunities are realistic and long term.  God should be a bigger part of that, and today is one of those days where I'm noticing it.  I am noticing that my heart misses Him and I don't want to shut Him out of this new life that He provided me with.  He blessed me financially, with friends, a good living situation, and lots of opportunity that I just have to work really hard for.  Along with all of that, I want to "earnestly seek Him."  Otherwise, everything else doesn't really have much meaning and just gets lost in the shuffle. 

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

the overwhelming madness

When I was in college, high school, basically any time before graduation, and I said that I wanted to be an actress, I would always acknowledge that it would not be easy to do so.  My teachers, friends, and family would also say that it was going to be a lot of hard work, and that it would test my patience.  Now trust me, I really did know this.  But now, I'm actually feeling it and coming face to face with the amount of work that goes into simply getting your face out there!

Boston has the resources I need to get out there, but because it's not overly flooded like New York, I really have to hunt for things.  I've already spent hours on google trying to find open mics for comedy clubs, without many results.  The comedy scene is actually a challenge to get into out here, let alone the acting scene. 

My patience has always been a problem for me.  It's one of the biggest things that God tests me on, makes me work on, and still I feel like my lack of patience has only changed with simpler things like everyday activities and the actions of my friends.  Really, I still have almost zero.  I want something, and I want it now, and then I rush into trying to get it without really going about it in a slow and well thought out way that would probably produce better results.  It's like I'm hoping some kind of opportunity would just fall out of the sky and into my lap right when I want it to, so that I don't have to work for it!

The number one thing I REALLY have to change about myself, is my "I'll do it later" lack of motivation.  It's a college student mentality, getting things done at the last minute and still getting by alright.  This tactic can't work in the real world, and I'll tell you why: NO ONE WILL MAKE YOU DO IT!  There are no grades, no teachers, no parents, nothing that will get you off your own ass except yourself!  If I don't learn how to get into this business and learn who to talk to, where to go, when to do things, how to network, build relationships, market myself, then I will not get anywhere because no one else is going to make me.

Lazy days and fucking off are no longer really an option.  I'm here, in the real world, I've been waiting to be here for four years so I could let go of the restrictions of school and homework and meaningless projects, and this is the time.  It will take a while, and a few months from now I may cry into my pillow wondering why I don't have an agent or blah blah blah yet.  But God is going to keep teaching me patience, and I will come out better for it in the end.  I just have to keep working hard, as in not go home tonight and go to bed just because I had to get up early today; I should be going to this next open mic on my list, or at least making myself write another chapter in my book, researching how to get headshots printed out cheap, SO MANY THINGS that I could be doing. 

Basic number one lesson of this blog:  If you want something and if in ten years you don't have it you may just jump off a bridge because your life will be a failure?  Then you should... GET OFF YOUR ASS! 

Thursday, June 2, 2011

getting caught up in the world around you is an easy thing to do

I wonder what it would be like if I had moved to New York... no just kidding, I don't.  Know why?  Because as much as NY is the end goal, and I do love that city, I think that God wanted me in Boston at least for now.  Whenever I go through a change or I move somewhere new I think to myself, "this is temporary" and I can't enjoy it to the fullest because I never feel settled.  I've been here for three and a half days and I already feel like, "I love the people, I love my street, I love my room, and I feel ok."

Maybe the fact that everyone that's important to me is within an arm's reach has something to do with it.  I know I'm never going to feel lonely if my closest friends and my sisters are living in the vicinity, and home is less than an hour and less of a hassle to get to with public transit being at my fingertips.  The people of Boston don't give me that same temporary feeling of falsehood that I've had when living in New York or Newport.  And as much as I would never trade my (hopefully) life-long friends I gained in Europe, I was there for school and the entire time I had to think about the fact that I had to leave.  Now I get on the subway and have conversations with complete strangers about stuff we can all relate to like the Bruins and tornados brewing. 

These people; they're real, and I'm home.

... now I just have to get my headshots done and get the ball rolling on my acting career.  I just did an open mic at a comedy night at a Howard Johnson's.  Wasn't the greatest thing ever, but at least I have confirmation that I am funny and I came up with my material while I was sitting there and watching people.  There were guys sitting with their notebooks and recording themselves while they were doing their sets, but I don't think that's the best way to go about it, especially if your routine still somewhat sucks.  You have to feed off of what you know, feel for where people's minds are wandering to when you're telling them a story; I'm not an expert on standup, but I do know how to tell somebody a story that'll make them laugh and I think that's what counts the most. 

So here's to trusting your gut and trusting God that Boston was a good choice for a 20-something out of work actress.  Let's get a move on.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

peggy bundy is now a badass in leather pants. who knew?

Today, I learned a lot about my Uncle Butch.  If there's anything you're picturing about what an Uncle Butch would look like, you may be right.  He's 6'4(ish), blonde, blue eyed, and could pretty much kick anyone's ass.  Before today, I knew that if I brought a boy home to the family that he would be the first male family member I'd want to size him up.  My Aunty Nancy loves to tell the story about the time when she and "Big Ron" (his actual name is Ronald) went to an Italian restaurant in Boston and they thought he was a gangster.  The waiters were falling all over themselves getting him everything, replacing his ash tray every time he flicked his cigarette they were lighting for him, filling their drinks without asking any questions, and finally comping his meal.  Of course he played the part perfectly, not having a clue who they thought he was supposed to be.

I realized that I almost never spend quality time with my aunt and uncle, and it's my mom's only sister who cares so much about us girls, with her husband that treated us as his own daughters.  Aunty Nancy calls me to see how I'm doing, and as I grow older we grow closer.  Uncle Butch always tells us, "If any guy gives you trouble, you tell him your uncle will give him a visit." and I smile because I know he's only half kidding.  But I couldn't stop thinking this past week how I never really sat down with them before today and had time with them, just the three of us (minus when I was a little kid).  They mean so much to me, and I almost feel guilty at how proud of me they are, when I could have spent so many more evenings with them during my trips home from school.  He went out special today to the butcher to pick out a specific and beautiful roast to make a nice meal for little old me, and I thought I was just coming over the house for a regular old meal! 

To sum up my Uncle, he's a Teamster, he used to own two restaurants a deli and a hot dog stand slash diner, he was a soldier in the Vietnam War, he was a big tough biker, and he would do absolutely anything for his family.  God is in his heart, and he has the strength, courage, and heart of a lion... well maybe the heart of a teddy bear lion like the one from Wizard of Oz.  If he isn't wearing a polo, a teamster jacket, and holding a cigar and a highball glass of southern comfort, then you aren't looking at my uncle.  He says things like, "How's my baby doing?" to all us girls in the family, and make you feel like you were his favorite.  Words can't describe the love in his eyes, and the fatherly smile he possesses.

But he's not smoking or drinking these days.  In fact, he hasn't been feeling so hot for a while now.  I don't like to go into detail, because that's not the important part. If anyone who reads this has a family member they love so much that they would be devastated to lose them, please pray for my uncle.  He looked great today, and he seems so vibrant and happy, but this weekend he had to miss my graduation because he was so tired.  I just want him to get better, because he deserves it so much working so hard his whole life and caring about all us girls and his kids, wife, and the whole family.  If I meet a guy half as good as my uncle someday, and he's not around to size him up, I don't know what I'd do.  Prayer really does work, even if you don't believe in it, good thoughts are always welcome.

Monday, May 16, 2011

faces in and out, wine glass up and down

I don't think I've ever been more overwhelmed by a span of just a few days.  It still hasn't hit me that I graduated from college this weekend.  People keep saying, "congratulations" and, "you worked so hard!" and, "so what's your plan now?"

Well really, I did deserve a congratulations on making it through four years of being stuck in the middle of western Massachusetts.  I deserved to get my medal they put around my neck at the HFA graduation; like Bruce Jenner got his Olympic medal for putting in hours and working through his physical stress, I got mine for putting up with years of emotional stress. "What's that?" people asked at Travis' grad party. "It's my gold medal I got for graduating" only I wasn't really kidding.

Commencement was a long process, but I feel like either it went by too fast for me to enjoy, or I was just terrible at taking any of it in.  A woman from outer space gave a speech about how UMass molded her life, a student gave funny pop culture references, and we had to listen to the "mmkay" guy from South Park lull us to sleep for ten minutes.  I almost cried on several stress-filled moments, one being that I forgot my robe and my dad laughed at me like he laughs at everything I take seriously, and I sat starving through each ceremony wondering why they charged for food at graduation.  One or two moments I almost had tears of joy thinking about all the students coming together to celebrate an achievement, but I never feel those things fully in the moment, it's always later on my own when there's no one to see.

And what next?  I hate small talk.  I hate telling people the same thing every couple of minutes, and I hate getting the same questions.  I also hate that half my family thinks I'm going to be a movie star while the other half thinks my degree in Theater was probably a waste.

Before having my graduation party, I thought I was excited to have everyone over the house.  Then I realized:  I have TWO families.  Not by any fault of mine, my divorced parents and their relatives all had to be in the same pink polka dotted elephant filled room because it had rained and our tiny house was to replace our spacious backyard I had planned on using for a cookout.  My aunt smiled at my sisters, wondering if they remembered her.  My uncle I haven't seen in two years stayed outside talking to my stepdad about cars.  My gramma kindly helped my old great great aunt with her coat and wonderingly observed my schizophrenic but very sweet cousin as she folded her sweater nineteen times.  As my Papa tried to heal my migraine with rieki and brushing my aura around my eye, and some old friends floated in and out after a plateful of potato salad, I'd had just about enough.  I drank through the headache just so the panic in my throat would cease.

I'm terrified to start pursuing my dreams because when they don't happen fast enough I'm going to get very depressed.  That, and I hate that one gramma tells strangers in the street she has a granddaughter that's going to be on Broadway and the other one nods and says, "oh that's nice" and then discouragingly says I should commute to my internship from Worcester and "find a nice job" as she crushes my dreams and compares me to the relatives that majored in business and law.  Even after seeing something I wrote, directed, ran the light board, and acted in one scene, she still doesn't see that I'm actually pursuing a career.  I didn't even want to tell her about my job interview tomorrow because it's at a sales firm, and I feel like she'll secretly have a victory over me if I get a desk job.

While it's amazing that I have friends and family who think so highly of me that they have no doubt I'm going to make it, I think it's somewhat of a good thing that I have those who are a bit less than encouraging.  It just makes me want to prove them wrong that much more.

Today, I'm making a promise to my five-year-old self that wanted to grow up and be Cameron Diaz just so she could be Jim Carrey's girlfriend in The Mask -- I will be a fabulous actress, and I won't even need a boyfriend (or approval) to do it.

Monday, May 9, 2011

through the eyes of a child

Today I was looking at pictures.  I sat on the hardwood floor of my empty furniture-less bedroom, and I looked at pictures from my childhood.  Many of them were of my great grandparents who are long since passed away.  Those were perhaps the saddest pictures to look at.  My sisters and I were all hugging my grampy and he looked so happy.  I have his eyes, and we were the only ones who could wiggle our ears in the family.

Then I came across some of my Uncle Billy, and saw how happy he used to be.  These days I have no idea how he's doing, because that part of the family isn't our family anymore.  His sister Mary was sitting on his lap in one of them; they were so happy and hugging and young and fun.  Where did they lose their sanity?  Their focus and love of life and family just seemed to disappear.  I'm not even sure if Mary is still alive.  I may never know.

My mother's ex boyfriend and his sons were in some of these pictures.  People I used to call "dad" and "brother".  Now when I think of this person I had living in my home it makes me sick.  But I still keep in touch somewhat with my "brothers".  I wonder if people ever take pictures because they know that their life could change at any moment in time, and everyone that is in love or connected in that photo could disappear or walk out or become someone you would never recognize, in an instant.  Photos are a snapshot of a moment that may never exist again.  Take them while you can, is all I can say for it.

Did you ever have a grandfather?  I used to have two; a great one and a first level one.  One died (my sweet grampy who will never be away from my heart), and one I will probably never speak to or see again.  He may as well have died; I have no idea where he is.  But I know that he used to cook on the grill for family parties, and take our family to Red Sox games.  We used to go to the beach and go on walks.  He went to all my shows.  I get sick just thinking about it. 

Looking at pictures of my great grandparents and thinking about how the divorce never came up until the past year or so, it finally all makes sense.  Who would try to go through a divorce when you've been divorced like twice already, and your parents are ancient in their 90s?  Grammy and Grampy wouldnt' have let them live that down, they would've been rip shit.  So they pass away, and you deal with the grieving and you think, "maybe my marriage isn't so bad" because you're being comforted.  Then the mourning period passes and you realize you're still unhappy.  But there's nothing stopping you.  I get it; she was waiting for the right timing to leave him.

I thought that as I grew up, the younger people in my family would change, and we would all lead happy lives and be a "normal" family.  But as we grew up, many of the "adults" in my life had changed, and they fell apart.  They were no example to be followed, and our relationships were lost.  I can't imagine letting this happen with my kids or theirs.  Where are the adults in my family?  Life was perfect before death, sickness, and selfishness started to kick in.  Sadly, I sometimes feel like I'm the biggest adult out of most of us.  We're supposed to turn out better.  It's scary to think about how we're going to do that.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

let it rain, let ir rain, open the floodgates of heaven

I got baptized last night.  I first thought it would be a good way to end my college career, but really it's washing away every negative thing I've been through the past four years and then some.  Renewing myself with God has been something I keep trying to do and have so much trouble finding a way to just get unstuck.  I keep getting stuck in my own head, in morbid reflection, in friendships that were completely one-sided, relationships that weren't real, and compromising my self-worth just to try to fucking fit in.  I'm not in high school anymore, I'm sick of the whole thing.

For years of my life I was plagued by the need to be with someone that was never going to love me back, no matter how many good days we had and no matter how much I loved him.  The reality was that he was a shitty boyfriend, and a liar, and took me for granted.  I was selfish for even attempting to be with him in the first place, but I was a stupid and overly trusting child.  I was desperately holding on to God still trying to believe that this man I wanted since I was 15 years old was going to change, keep his promises, and that God intended him be my prince charming.

I tried to replace him with self-destructive behavior and drinking myself into a corner where I almost died.  He would do something to set me off, and then I would go off to a party and drink until I couldn't stand anymore.  My alcohol tolerance had gotten so high, I'm lucky I woke up after some nights.  I was anorexic, and then after living in a house full of 43 girls for a few months, I was bulimic. 

When I lost all hope in his ability to be the man I thought he was, I started trying to replace him with men who treated me even worse.  I still called myself a Christian while investing my heart into meaningless hookups.  My only redeeming quality at this point of my life was that my "friends" were proud of me and would approve of me with every notch etched into the bedpost.  Looking back, I never wanted to admit that I was pretty much date raped on more than once occasion, and I would cover it up with bragging about how hott the guy was that I don't remember being with.

All of this was going on while I was VICE PRESIDENT of Navigators.  I would go to teach bible study and then go off and drink myself stupid because I either didn't have anything better to do, or I couldn't stand being around myself.  I was taking anything and everything that made me happy for a brief amount of time as something from God and that He was giving me some sort of lifeline.  Really, God was continuing to teach me that the things I wanted were not anything that I needed.  I wanted AND needed God but I had no idea how to just be a person and be ok with being alone and searching for something from God instead of people. 

So I knew I had to get away.  I hated that house I was in, and how it sucked me in and changed me into someone I didn't even recognize.  I couldn't stand going home anymore because I would always go visit my ex even though it would always end badly and hurt me even more than it felt right in the beginning.  I went to England to get away.  I was desperate.

Studying abroad gave me perspective on true friendship.  The friends that you want to have for the rest of your life and you will never want to leave, (I only had a couple of these back home and I had been taking them for granted) and I had to fly 3400 miles to live with some of the best people I've ever known.  Their views on alcohol, relationships, even people helped me grow so much.  And I had my little study-abroad affair that put the icing on the cake.  I had found myself again.

Coming back here, I quit my sorority, I got a job that surprisingly suited me, and I started going to therapy for my anxiety.  God was really knocking on my heart saying, "open up, I want to come in... you've still got some pain you need healing for"  at this point I was coming to terms with the things that had hurt me, and wasn't so much dealing with the fact that I had been so hurt.  I was repressing a lot of pain in my life, and now that my college career has been coming to an end it was time to deal with that pain.

Last night my friends that I have been taking for granted the past four years really showed me that they were my real friends.  They've helped me understand myself, and they really believe in me.  "I believe you're a woman of God" was probably the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me, because I don't believe it a lot of the time.  So I need to start believing that because when I get out into the real world, I deserve to love myself and allow God to love me, and make more friends that will always support me, and someday have a relationship that's healthy with God's love and blessings, instead of me tricking myself into believing God was blessing it just because I was with a Christian man.

Renewing my relationship with God through a baptism was something that needed to be done.  I'm going out into the real world now, and my crazy stupid self-destructive behavior is also something that I need to leave behind.  In a sense, UMass is going to be a lot like Vegas.  What happened here, will stay here, and I will not be taking it with me, save for the lessons I learned.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

change can be heartbreaking.

Change is inevitable, but what about our beliefs themselves changing?

Life changes as we grow older, and we all know that it does.  We have different friends the older we get, the more our personalities change either the people around us change with us, or we find new friends that suit us better.  Our bodies change; some of us grow into those buck teeth from second grade, or their ears don't seem so disproportionate to their eyeballs anymore, some women gain curves and men become more buff with age, and the rest of them get a bit chubby.

Beliefs change.  When I was a young kid, I didn't believe God existed because I didn't think sickness was something "God" would give.  As I grew older I felt this longing to understand why anything even existed; "what's the point??" I was constantly wondering.  Without any instruction or real reason why, I came to the conclusion that there had to be something.  God started showing me things in dreams.  Images from a mission trip I would attend at 14 entered my dreams at age 8.  Whenever I question an existence I recall the amount of times I have seen things in dreams that later on occurred when God was trying to tell me something. 

I'm sure that other people have their reasons that seem just as solid for them to believe or not believe in a higher being, but one thing I could NEVER understand is going from what seemed like an unshakable faith to deciding not to believe.  Friends that I grew up with, they were like brothers and sisters to me, just woke up one day and thought, "I don't want to live this anymore" (or possibly something similar) and they don't.

This wasn't simply a loss of a moral value or a belief.  One of my friends grew exhausted of their environment and the friends they had felt hurt by in the church, so instead of getting new friends, this person turned their back on God.  Their life is school, their significant other, and their family.  Being personally affected by this person's self-isolation, I don't know how to convince them that they were happy once and it had a lot to do with God.  Christians that are hurt by Christian friends have a hard time staying on track.  I myself had constant fights with God for ending my relationship with a Christian boyfriend a while back, but now I know it was for the best.

Another friend of mine decided they were too smart for it all.  Too many questions were unanswered, and they couldn't find an answer for these questions.  I suspect they had something to do with evolution or something similar.  They also said to me that being a Christian was a hard lifestyle and they just didn't want that lifestyle anymore.  I don't think I've ever been so disappointed in someone when I heard them tell me that.  I couldn't stop crying.

The big thing that I disagree with, is that Christianity is not a lifestyle.  Granted, there are those that live something we call a "Christian lifestyle" but it's not the same thing as say, being a vegetarian.  There are no complete set of a specific person that you have to be for God to accept you and love you and for you to go to Heaven.  Jesus still loves me even though I go out for drinks with my girlfriends and I say "fuck" a lot.  Are there things about myself that I could change for the better?  Of course, but that's more a moral thing and not just a biblical demand.

Christianity is a way of believing and putting your heart into something that may not even be real.  Faith is not a lifestyle.  Faith in Jesus is just that:  FAITH.  I can act out things in my life through having that faith, but whether I flip somebody off in traffic doesn't mean I don't love Jesus just as much as I did beforehand. 

My friends didn't lose a lifestyle, (although they did change theirs completely from the way we used to be) they lost their faith.  I weep for them, and now after adding another to the list, I weep even more.  Will I soon be the only one left?  Will I be all alone in my faith out of the Christian brothers and sisters that I grew up with and built my faith on thinking we were all in this journey of life together?  I can't let God down.  I watched these people that I love cry to God, pray to God, sing to God, play instruments and dance for God, become so ravished with the Holy Spirit that we couldn't stop praising His name for hours on end, fast for over 30 hours, abstain from immoral actions, and many many many other actions took place all from these people that truly did at one point LOVE GOD. 

How can you lose faith?  Can you really have love without faith?  And then there's being able to hope in something... they really do all go together.  I can't come up with anything to explain why losing faith is such a devastation, but honestly my heart shattered every time I heard it from another person I knew, just as I think God's heart shatters when one of His children decide they're better off without their Father.  To not know in the first place is somehow understandable, but to be fully aware of something and have it move your soul and then throw seems to me the same as if someone were to fly a plane, land, and then walk away still claiming flying is impossible for mankind.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, if I didn't have a God to turn to, I would've killed myself a long time ago.  I would rather live my life for something that possibly isn't there, then die to find out that there is.  Looking at some of this change in some that I used to know so well I just think, "Where was I when you lost yourself?  I should've been there."  All I can do is pray and know that no matter how many turn their backs on Him, God never turns His back on you. 

Friday, April 15, 2011

My stomach grumbles while my mind tumbles.

As most of you know, I am currently fasting.  You may also know that I am fasting due to the Republican proposed budget cuts and how upset I am about the potential cut of Planned Parenthood, after school programs, senior programs, Medicare, and Medicaid.  I know that cuts have to be made, and I'm aware that some of these programs aren't perfect the way that they are, but giving a tax BREAK to billion dollar corporations and making a CUT on women that can't afford basic OBGYN care is just awful. 

My friend Ashley wrote an article for the Collegian on this whole thing, and she is joining me in this fast.  There are so many people in on this.

It's day 3, and I wake up hungry, have a day-long lull, maybe get a bit hungry around suppertime, and then get hungry before bed.  But honestly, it's dealable.  You get this weird high when you are telling your body not to feel the way it feels.  Most of the fast and the fight to keep fasting is all a mental game.  Every time I hunger or crave something, I pray about it.  That's part of the fast, is to pray for those less fortunate that are being affected by this cause.

I think that fasting has actually been a big help to clear my mind.  My anxiety has been almost non-existent the past few days, and it's a wonderful to feel such a release.  I think God is really blessing this fast and the line of thought that there are people out there who need help and aren't being helped by cutting a budget on the needy.  I feel as though God is holding my hand through this, because I'm not miserable about giving up food whatsoever.  I'm joyful to be able to have my part in something bigger and better than myself.  I fully plan on keeping up with surviving on caffeine, juice, and a prayer thru next weekend.

The one other thing is that I still haven't been able to ultimately decide between Boston and New York.  I know Boston is safe; it has my friends, family, an apartment and job opportunity, and a not-so-time-consuming internship that will still benefit me to learn about the business.  New York is taking a risk; staying with family and depending on that for the entire summer, while working my ass off as if it were a full-time job that I have to do for free.  I hate not working, but this would jumpstart connections to getting a career. 

I'm told that by fasting God helps you make decisions.  He helps you gain clarity and to grow closer to Him.  I think I need that now more than ever, as I make a huge transition in my life.  Please pray for me during this that God will speak to me, and pray that the vulnerable poverty-level and elderly American citizens will stop getting stepped on by the GOP.  God is love, not neglect.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

My sinuses are going to burst open; pollen is a poison slowly swelling in my cheekbones.

I need a drastic change.  Is graduating drastic enough?  I wish I were blonde again.  But this time, REALLY blonde, no highlights, just beautiful light honey colored reddish blonde.

My hair is feet long.  There is no number, because I'm implying multiples of feet.  The ends are dead, and I have a secretive just-for-me dreadlock underneath the left side of my head.  I may let it fall out; my hair is too thick and wavy to look pretty and smooth in dreads.  Hilary's hair came out so beautiful because her hair was already fine and straight and smooth.  At least, that's the way I see it because my dread looks like a rat made a nest under my ear and it swallowed the bead I put in there.  We'll see what happens.  If I weren't trying to act, I would already have wrist tattoos and a head full of dreads.

The length of my hair is just so... me.  It's a part of me.  I want to cut it to have something new, but at the same time I love when I get that perfect wave and it falls down my back in a heap Having my long hair keeps my face looking thin even when I know it's getting fat.  And don't say "you're not getting fat" because I split two jeans last month and my bras are all tight.

My job is killing my health; there are cookies and doughnuts for free and I can take home whatever.  Breakfast bars from French Meadows seem like a good idea, but I have a feeling it's all sugar and contributing to the massiveness of my thighs.

So maybe what I'll do is this:  I'll wait, and cut off my hair for graduation.  And maybe get that tattoo I wanted, just not on my wrist.  But that's a whole 'nother month away and patience is not one of my strong suits.

Thursday, March 31, 2011

Whenever I try to cut calories, it makes me want to eat MORE.

Tonight I went to see my friend Amanda in her starring role as Sally Bowles in Cabaret and she was just so great.  Seeing her up there, I could tell that she was elated with the part and she was really having fun with it.  I couldn't have picked a better role for her, (although she was my leading lady a year ago in Relationships which was just as good for her acting capabilities).

Watching the rest of this show however, made me feel pretty darn bad about myself.  I watched as about five different girls strutted their stuff around half naked on stage, and all I could think was, "My abs will never look like that" "I remember when I was that skinny" and "What happened to me, I'm disgusting."  And considering that two pairs of my jeans in the past two weeks have split int he crotch where my monstrous thighs rub together, I really haven't been feeling too hott lately.

When I was in high school, I weighed about ten pounds or so more than I do now.  I had a really chubby face, and a big ass, and my mid-area was a self-conscious touchy subject that made me cry in middle school because I didn't understand why my "baby belly" as my mother called it, never went away with age.  I still have it, and I deal with hating it every day.

Towards the end of senior year, I went on a medication called Topamax, I was taking it daily for my migraines, and I dropped almost fifteen pounds instantly.  I then continued to lose around 10 pounds throughout my freshman year through a mixture of eating square meals every day, walking everywhere, and never having snacks because I ate at the DC and I didn't keep any food in my room.  I was somewhat of a foe vegetarian at that time because I was afraid of DC meat, not because I had the ideals that I have now.

The skinniest I ever was in the past few years, I weighed 116.  I'm 5'7".  I was a skeleton.  My family was always asking me in a joking manner, "Are you eating?" and my friends would comment/compliment.  It's quite possible that because my first two years of college were among the most depressing and stressful years of my life thus far, there was another factor thrown into the mix.  I look at pictures of myself and I can see the bones in my chest.  Did I realize how thin I was?  No, not really.

In fact, I still thought that I was fat.  During junior year while living at my sorority house, I started drinking about four or five nights a week because I was so depressed.  This led to drunk eating, and my weight gain.  I gained about ten pounds in four months and I hated myself.  What I didn't realize was that that ten pounds had probably brought my body back to normal, and away from borderline anorexia.  I fought with myself for months as I gained a few more pounds here and there, getting to where I am now.

I am a size 4.  Maybe even a 6 in some things.  I think I weigh about 130, and that number kills me every day just thinking about it.  "If I could just lose five pounds and get to a medium from where I am now and when I was soooo skinny..." "If my abs were only abs and not a blob" "If I didn't eat so many sweets or I didn't drink" the obsessive thoughts go on and on and on.  I used to starve myself, and some days when my anxiety is really bad all I can think is, "When's the next time I'll be hungry so I can justify stuffing my face again?" and as soon as I take a bite of food I guilt myself over giving in.

My anxiety has gotten to the point (and it's not just about food) to where I wake up, I have to plan exactly what I'm wearing according to what I'm doing that day, who I will see, what hours I will be where, and exactly what I will eat and when.  If something happens where my mental schedule gets screwed up, I cry about it.  Oh, my class was cancelled?  Where do I go for an hour?  I missed my appointment?  Crap, I should be doing something productive!  How many apples do I have in my bag?  If I eat one now, will I be hungry again in an hour?  Maybe I can just wait an hour.

It's ridiculos.
I'm ridiculous.
This whole thought process is fucking ridiculous.
I moved four times this year and no matter how far away or quickly or where you move, you can't escape from your own fucking head.  I have pain in my shoulder so bad that I could barely put on my backpack today because I overdid it at the gym because THERE'S A FUCKING WALL OF MIRRORS IN FRONT OF THE WEIGHT MACHINES!!!!
I just need to scream.

Tomorrow is opening day for baseball, and the relaxing and wonderful feeling that I got this week from watching spring training games was absolutely amazing.  It's better than yoga.  I need summer, and I need to stop thinking things like, "If I'm skinny then maybe it's ok that I'm not as good as some people because I'll still be pretty and it makes up for it.  If I'm not an actress or doing something great with my life, and I'm fat to boot, then who will care two shits about me?"

It's a really claustrophobic feeling, being stuck in your own head all the time.