Friday, February 28, 2014

I'm a space bound rocket ship and your heart's the moon...

You'll never know what you have - who you have - until they're gone.

That's a truth so real to me, I can taste it.


I must have a handful of posts about this kid by now, but I can't help it. There's nothing like looking at a huge piece of you inside a wooden box, knowing it's the end.

It's another thing to look at a box, with a name plate, knowing that inside holds the ashes of all your memories. The ashes of so many things - hope, love, friendship... Faith, peace and what once was a walking, talking escape from every nasty thing in this world.

The man above was my best friend. If you didn't know that, welcome to my blog.

Tonight, I was sifting through my Pandora and 'Soul Meets Body' came on. I started crying. That was one of Kyles favorite songs. We would listen to it on our random road trips. Destination always unknown.

Suicide. What a bitch.

I never thought in a million years it would take someone so close to me.

Ever.

I wouldn't wish this pain on my worst enemy.


That was Kyle's 'I'm Pooping' face. Yes, that's my Kyle. All black everything. Kind, compassionate, considerate. Always doing something meaningful - reading a book, of watching awesome documentaries. He was so fucking smart. You should read some of his screen plays. His scripts were like no other. Only one I've ever read that's come close was 'Stoker'.

I've never felt more alone in the world until Kyle died. Even if we weren't talking, even if we were going thru our own things... My other half was somewhere in this world.

...Not anymore. 

I really had to figure out... How to be alone? I'm still figuring it out. I wrote a post kind of like that, that topic. I can be alone, that's not what I mean... But, you know how usually there's always someone out there that gets you? That knows you? That you know even at your worst you could call them, even if you didn't want to, they were there?

Eh, not anymore.

I always figured, too, that Kyle and I would eventually get together. Eventually. After our careers were set in this fantastic film industry - after he got over his new drug habit - after he found out who he was and worked through depression... We would.

I never gave a second thought to who I'd be with. I just figured it would be him. 

He was the kind of guy I've always wanted, looked for. Tall, sensitive, smart - really smart, spoke well and could have deep intellectual conversations, fun and funny, can cook, clean, isn't about all that stupid 'man-code' crap, loved The Notebook, loved romance, read books - usually by himself writing scripts, loved all kinds of music - mostly stuff that wasn't the 'manliest'. Loved driving, loved taking walks for no reason, loved animals, was a total nerd at heart. Loved video games, comic books, had 0 'game', wasn't afraid to say a man was attractive... The kind of guy every girl says she wants before settling with an abusive 'bro' who slams beers at the bar, hangs out at strip clubs and views woman solely as 'sexual objects'.

Kyle would still defend and protect me. I think I was the only one. I would do the same for him. It was really cool, we were each balanced equally as far as our masculine/feminine sides. That's probably why he had a 'sexual identity crisis' when he was younger. Later, he found out he wasn't gay, he just wasn't 'a bro'. 

He's gone.


I'm pretty positive the guy the angels do set me up with will be pretty much like Kyle. I know it because it's what fits best with me, and I won't settle for anything less. Fairly impossible to find in the film industry, but I'll hold out for it. I won't settle. Kyle wouldn't want me to, either.

Kyle was a man unlike one I'd ever met in so many ways. I had no idea that I should appreciate how well he interacted with me until he was gone. He really honored me and let me be me in ways I didn't realize. 

I am a very independent, strong, loud, powerful human being. At the same time, I can be just like him. It's a mix of a person that I've heard time and time again, when people talk to me and get to know me, "You're the most interesting person I've ever met." Kyle let me be powerful. He let me be smart. He let me be loud, and honest. He let me be a strong, powerful woman... Since him, I've been met with so so many whose first task is to attempt to squash that right out of me.

I remember Kyle and I took a law class. We were both doing the mock trial of that woman who was murdered by her husband, Laci Peterson. Kyle was always defense, I was always prosecution. 

Kyle and I got to go up against each other, head to head, in the Laci Peterson mock trial.

Oh it was on. 

We took the allotted 2 weeks prep and worked our asses off. When it came down to it, we stunned the classroom. I won, and Kyle took it like a champ. 

In fact, Kyle and I were the only ones approached privately by our teacher and given the tip to go into law professionally. For real. 

We were dynamic 

That's a part of the whole, 'Opposites attract' thing, I think. Not that you are total and polar opposites... It's always been another requirement of mine that whoever I'm with is in the industry. Or at least working their ass off to try and be. Goals mean a lot, and Kyle and I had the same goals. We were going to work together and take over the industry!

I don't think he believed in himself that much. In fact, I know he didn't. But it's a common goal, a common ground, that we both had. A passion to continue to work towards. 

Fucking asshole.

Sorry, I have angry tics...

... So we weren't polar opposites, you know? I was the fighter, the one on the front lines defending anything and everything that came our way. He was the one picking me up, talking through my thoughts and feelings with me, making sure I could keep fighting.

Once, I called him on my way home from college - as I always did. There were some assholes trailing me, and they were right on my ass. If I'd have braked, they'd be in my passenger seat.

"Come over."

"...What?"

"Come over, bring them over here."

"...Kyle, what the hell..."

"April, just come over. I'm waiting."

*click*

Well okay then.

So I did, I drove straight to his house - which I was passing anyways. They followed basically the whole way until I turned onto his street. I park, get out, and there's Kyle. Sitting on the trunk of his car with two guns - prop guns - beside him, smoking a cigarette. 

"Well hi."

Out runs Kyles Mom, phone in hand.

"Where are they?!"

"They're gone. They turned around when I pulled in."

"I was ready to call the police! Thank god!"

Inside she goes.

"Awh, I'm touched."

Kyle flicked his cigarette into the distance. "Why?"

"You were all ready to defend me."

He shrugged. "I'm not just gonna let some assholes trail you."

Kyle had never done anything like that before for me. I was, truly, deeply touched. It had usually been me cornering the jocks in school that called him a faggot and threatening them with graphic threats... Or shoving them into lockers... Or throwing things at them, when they'd do it to Kyle.

This, this was new. And it continued.

One of his best friends, who had gotten him into the nasty habit that I believe attributed to his suicide, was trying to secretly drug me. 

Kyle called me on my birthday and warned me, "...He's gonna give you something, do not take it, April. Do. Not. Take. It. He put a ton of shit in it to see what happens to you."

WHAT?!?

I told his Mom, and I called said friend and cursed him out nice and good. Kyle got the 'narc' label for awhile, but he didn't care. He wasn't about to let that shit happen to me, and I was eternally grateful. Furthermore, people knew not to dare call him anything less than amazing in my presence.

It was one of those, "I can call him an asshole, but if YOU say it - you lose all your teeth." Kinda relationships. 


We would always meet with people, usually other friends of mine - the loner he was - at Denny's. He always ordered a cherry coke, and either nachos - or we'd split those cheesy fries. 

The first (of two, and no more) Black Friday's I ever attended was with Kyle. He wanted slippers and a robe, so his Mom agreed to let him take her credit card as long as I went with. Make sure he didn't get a butt load of crap he didn't need. 

That always made me happy. Always made me feel good - how welcomed I was in their family. Most other parents told other parents, and other kids, I was a, "Bad influence." I was some horrible kid, a whore, an alcoholic. I was always in trouble, and let's face it - I've had D boobs my whole life. Makeup, nails, hair, partying like I had just before I really met Kyle... There was judgement. No one really liked or welcomed me. Even in my own home.

They did. Kyle, his parents, his sister... That always meant the world to me. Still does. Kyles suicide hasn't changed anything between any of us.

I love them. So much.

I remember after Kyle died. His Mom (who I call 'Mom', so it's continued..) and I were sitting outside looking at the stars. She started crying, rightfully so, and talking about so many painful things. "I'll never get to see him get married. I'll never get to see him on the red carpet, or at a film premiere of his. I'll never get to see his children, my grandchildren..."

Then she looked at me and said, "I always wanted it to be you, April. I hoped and prayed you two would get together. I wanted you to officially be in this family."

"I know."

What else can I say? That's another thing this whole suicide taught me... Pain. Other people's pain. How do you help a parent, someone you also think of as a parent, mourn not only their only son - but their dreams for their son? 

One thing that really fucking pissed me off... When Kyle killed himself, I had a surprising amount of people ask me, "Oh, was it because he was gay?"

... What the fuck?! No!

Did Kyle go through a period of questioning that about himself? Yes. Why? He wasn't a bro. He. Was. Not. A. Bro. He was a real man, as far as I'm concerned. He would rather be in a library than a bar. He was quiet, and when he did speak he was always well spoken and a thousand times smarter than everyone else. He read actual books, not Playboys. He would rather be at the beach watching the sunrise or set than be at a strip club (he never went, he said it was a 'degrading representation of the male species in it's relation to women'). He would rather be watching a historical documentary than a football game... So, since all of that is somehow 'gay', he got pegged. His whole fucking life. Even with me, hanging on him like I did - or being everywhere with him... Didn't help. It sure stopped any comments, but they didn't stop thinking it.

God only knows what would have happened to him in this industry. Geeezus - I hadn't thought about that until right now. My lord. Poor kid would have been a target for everything.

He wasn't without growing up to do, of course. He did a fair amount after high school, but I couldn't be with him everywhere. People still picked on him, took advantage of his kindness - always willing to buy someone something, or drive someone somewhere. I've seen him be taken advantage of a thousand times, and as many times as I tried to tell him about it - he never saw it.

I tried to tell him that everyone wasn't a good person... That sometimes, people take advantage of you... And he would say, "That's not very positive."

I think, deep down, it was a weird way to get friends. That always broke my heart.

If he'd have only stayed around long enough to meet Jared, or get a chance to recover and work on sets with me. 

*sigh*


I remember one particular night, well past 3a, my phone rang:

"Kyle?"

"April..." He sounded very sad, lost, drained, hopeless.

"What happened? What's wrong?"

"Uhm... Can I come over?"

I shot out of bed, "Yeah, absolutely. Of course you can."

"See ya soon."

He hung up, and I was outside waiting for him in no time. I set up the porch - chairs, drinks, ashtray, snacks... This was gonna be an all nighter.

He pulled up, got out, and wouldn't say a word. Walked up on the porch, sat down, and went to open his pop.

I stood up, and held out my arms.

"...Hi?"

"Hug me."

He raised an eyebrow. 

"April, uhm..."

"Hug me, damnit."

He sighed, stood, and hugged me. A second longer than all the other times I forced him to hug me. Gentler, and sad.

"Are you okay?" I asked into the black t-shirt he was wearing.

It felt like forever, but he murmured, "No."

We sat down, and began talking. He was googling suicide, depression, thinking about cutting again, writing depressing shit... Really depressed and suicidal.

We talked and talked and talked. He said he'd been having really horrible dreams, like night terrors, and didn't want to talk to anyone else. We talked about suicide, when I attempted mine, and how I was getting through it. He was always open to talking about my struggles, but oddly and slyly uncomfortable.

We talked for a couple hours, went inside, laid down and watched TV for a bit - just enough time to uplift him and send him home.

He was walking to his car when he didn't even bother looking back at me to say, "See you later?"

"Later is a couple of hours."

He got in his car, and rolled down the window. "So, later?"

"Later."

My best friend.


I have a DVD copy of his funeral. I was going to screenshot it and post it here for a couple reasons:

A) So you know it's real.
B) To see what suicide really looks like.

It's not what people think it is. It isn't the pretty pictures and happy painless thoughts - no. Suicide is murdering a good handful of people, outside of yourself. Suicide is killing the souls and lives of people you don't even know.

You're just lucky that DVD is at the bottom of a DVD box on a shelf I can't reach at the moment.

I miss Kyle. I miss everything about him. I miss that I'll never be able to do that with him again. I know he's helping me, I know he's setting people in my life - I know he'll send me someone to be there for me like he was. Man, woman, romance, friendship - no clue. But I'll wait with faith.

My heart still breaks when I think of him. When I think of all the things we did, the memories I have... The fact that my pain will never even come close to the pain still carried by his family, the other people who mean the most to me in this world. 

I know when Kyles around. He kisses my cheek, he holds my hand, he makes sure I get to sleep okay, he's working behind the scenes with the business... He'll be the first spirit the man I do end up with sees. He'll be one of the main reasons I work for so many other people - for so long.

I've never had a friend like Kyle. I miss him, so much. Every day. 

I close with a song that has me in tears every time. I remember I heard this shuffling around Pandora after his funeral, and I lost my fucking marbles.

Pink, 'Who Knew'

Here's a song that Kyle put on my 20th, I think, birthday CD. It was our song, officially.

Death Cab for Cutie, 'I'll follow you into the dark'

Finally, the song I heard RIGHT after he killed himself that best explains our relationship - especially, the whole 'space/moon' thing. Kyle included that in his note above, and it was something we loved looking at at night. 

We didn't trust people, we didn't just be the way we were with each other with just anybody. We wouldn't let each other go, we wouldn't let each other fail, we would hold each other accountable... 

...and I would have done anything, anything in this world for him. 

Eminem, 'Space Bound'

I love you, Kyle. 

When I said you'd be my best friend until the day I died... I meant that shit. I'll always have your back, I'll always work just as hard for your memory as you are for me. I'll still be your ride or die, and I'll do everything I can to somehow breathe your spirit and your dreams back into your broken family.

You showed me a life, a friendship, I never knew existed. I am honored to have known you - and to have been allowed to be the huge part in your story, just like you will forever be in mine.

I wish you were here.


...I love you. So much. 

XO

Thursday, February 27, 2014

Lesson in Patience

I think one of the hardest things in this world is knowing what's coming, knowing what's going to be - but being stuck in a 'waiting period'.

Fucking a, man. 

That's what blows. Waiting. I have very little patience. Very, very little.

I'm getting better, I am. It's hard.

It's really hard to know what I know - all of it. All of the gift, all of the lessons I've taught myself, all the research. All the awesome new and fun marketing techniques, all the ways to twist stories and cinematography styles to spin and make new ones - and relate marketing. How to take a budget and cut it so low with maximum return and still make a film that looks 'expensive', and knowing it's all falling into place, but having to wait or prove yourself before you can get the opportunity to venture out on your own and build dreams for the thousands of starving dreamers out there... 

...even the other personal life stuff. To look at people and read them so well almost instantly. To know where they'll fit, or won't. Down to the problems, and no matter how you try and help, fix, empower them... Knowing by the law of human nature, it probably won't work unless they want it to.

Gaaaaah I hate time!!! Patience be damned! 

I'm still struggling with my strength as an individual. Not in standing on my own, that's fine - but in standing by myself. Totally different. I think I've just been doing it so long that I'm sick of it.

There's an industry legend that I'm really really good friends with, she's amazing. She's done so much stuff it's insane - she's worked everywhere, and knows everyone. She's older, with kids my age, and took me under her wing as soon as I met her. I've cried to her, I've broken down in front of her - or through text - or email. She's pulled every card she could and every connection for me without me ever asking. I remember she said, "I know I don't have to, sweetheart, but I believe in you. I know what you can do. That's rare, especially in someone your age. It's not just helping you, sugar, even though you know how much I love you... I'm doing them a favor, too."

God I love that woman. I've learned so much.

She did send emails, make calls and all on my behalf. Of course, no one budged. Even her, the credits and name she has - the people she knows - because I'm virtually 'no one', it still doesn't matter. 

I got it, I get it - it's all about the $ in the end. As a business woman I get it. Can't sell what doesn't already sell, unless you pump it with extra $ and PR/marketing, and they don't build stars anymore. Got it. 

It just means so much how much she believes in me. I remember I called her before to get some pain off my chest about it, before I began venturing into business on my own... How was I ever going to get an agent if you aren't already someone? How do I do this if I won't sleep with this guy who says I have to? How do I deal with this step into the business of it if I'm constantly called a bitch?

She told me, "Honey, people used to call me a bitch. When I was starting, when I was around your age, I was a huge bitch. Apparently. You gatta own it, sweetheart. Own it. Because the bottom line is - as a woman, doing what you do, going where your going - you'll always be called a bitch by men of all ages who are afraid of a woman's power. So own it and accept it now, or else it'll just get worse. The part no one understands in this industry that I accepted was - let them call you a bitch. Who cares if it gets the job done, right?"

God I love her! She's so like minded, too. She's done a TON of projects without credits just to help people, to work with the kids and get to know the up and comers because she believes in us. 

That alone, that demonstration of dedication and passion for those such as myself struggling - that someone of her caliber will willingly get on the front line with us, and join OUR teams... Has always meant the world.

Her, myself, and some other vagina owning industry professionals are all planning a 'girls weekend' sometime soon. Nothing weird and cultish, just a gathering - something to relax and have fun. No party, I'm way grown out of that and everyone there except me will be around her age. It makes me happy that I'm always the youngest person in the bunch. Not for vanity, but because I am constantly welcomed into the personal lives of people I can learn from. Personally, professionally, and spiritually. 

I live to learn, and that's where I can do it.

It does help when they all constantly remind me, "...you're only 25, you have tons of time. / You're just a baby! / You've got your whole life ahead of you!" Because it certainly doesn't feel like it. I think that's partially something to attribute success to. Not waiting around - ya know? Getting hungry and getting active... You know what I mean. Plus, the 16+ lifetimes of other crap rattling around in my soul... Interesting stuff.

It's also something of a... War, if you will, within myself. Those 'baby' comments aren't without a, "...you're wise beyond your years." Flattering, of course, but very confusing within myself. I'm sure that's more than half the reason most of my friends are often almost twice my age, including the men I date. More specifically, it's also conflicting as far as patience is concerned. Yes, I'm in a 25 year old body... But my mind, my soul, already know what's up... That damn waiting game. 

So I fill my time, my impatience, with stuff like that. Or, more work. 

The last couple days I've been tossing around a couple film ideas with my amazing team. Our locations manager is a real gem, he's got his shit together. He's a hard worker, and always goes above and beyond. Furthermore, he is willing to and can do an additional 30 jobs that aren't his. He's fantastic.

Great worker, great friend, totally professional. So glad I went out on the limbs I did when crewing my team. 

Him and I have been managing my (our) impatience by the afore mentioned tossing of ideas. We always come up with stories that don't fit budget, or marketing is tricky. Always 3rd/4th type concepts as far as a company is concerned. Great guy tho. 

I also fill my impatience with counseling. I love it, and there's always someone who needs someone to talk to. Even on the days where I feel alone, or depressed... They help pick me up. They believe in me as much as I believe in them and their recovery. It's a great exchange, really.

I've got an 'appointment' with a couple medium/psychic friends of mine, too. That helps. Filling the void with messages and tips that I know are trying to come through, but I can't get because... Well... I'm fucking frustrated with time. Impatience. 

Bastard.

I travel, switch between homes, find something to do everywhere. I'll probably go to my house in Chicago for a couple weeks in a bit. That's something to do, right? 

Probably head back to nice, sunny home in CA after. See my kittens, do some spring cleaning - just in time for my girls weekend, and more collab writing. Maybe look for more people to work with, make some new friends in different places between. Maybe I'll drive somewhere, do some kind of road trip somewhere just because.

Fuck, waiting sucks.

I know success is coming to me. I hve worked and continue to work too hard for it to miss me, that's not even an option. I know my personal life will pan out, I'm a solid - stand up - ride or die person. It's just finding the people, or letting them find me. Letting them learn their lessons, and open the door again when they've evolved. 

All of that requires patience, that I can fill my time with as much as possible... It doesn't stop my mind. That's the hard part. If I could just shut it off for awhile, that would be marvelous. 

What's that saying? Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly. 

I like that. 

For now, I'm gonna eat. 

Maybe google, 'discovering patience', or 'handling life's lessons'.

...then mindlessly search Netflix. 

...then edit a couple scripts. Start writing a new one? Option. 


I also think there's a bigger meaning behind this particular span of 'waiting'. I think that right now, the world is forcing this upon me. They're forcing me to take a pause, breathe, find mundane things to do. Because in no time, no time at all, I'll be working harder than I've ever worked in my life - I'll be in the public eye in a way I never have before... And I may wish I had had this time to do nothing.

I think that may be a huge reason. That's what my gift, my gut, tells me. 

There will be a time I look back on this impatience and think, "Gee, that was nice." Not that I won't be in charge of my own time and stuff, I can make it again... But it'll be nice, on the other hand, to be able to look at this time and be thankful. To be thankful that this doesn't have to happen again, unless I choose it.

Oh life, you silly banana. 

BTW, if you suffer from severe impatience too - you can tweet me, or shoot me a message/post on Facebook. Help me help you help me help you! 

*wink*

Off to eat my body weight in some food they tell you not to eat at night. What can I say, I'm a rebel. Boom!

Hugs and kisses, friends. XO 

Monday, February 24, 2014

Aunt Betty

My Aunt Betty - my favorite Aunt, the best Aunt ever - passed away today.

I loved her so much. She was amazing. She had that Lucy voice, deep from years of smoking - screaming and drinking. She said exactly what she thought, was the truth, and didn't apologize for it. Aunt Betty called people on their bullshit, and wouldn't allow excuses get in her way till she found the bottom of the topic/issue/problem/concern. She was a cat lady, long widowed from her drunk and abusive husband. She was amazing. 

When I was young, I ran from her. I hid under my bed once actually, I remember crying. She was so loud, and so tall she scared me...

...as I got older, everything I'd mentioned above was why I loved her so much. Why I deeply respected her so much. Why her and I grew to be so close.

I love cuddling. I really, really do. I would always lay with her - wherever we were - for however long I wanted. Young, old, I loved it. From the time I stopped being afraid of her, to the last time I saw her a couple years ago - I would crawl up on her lap and tell her I loved her. She would wrap her arms around me and say, "Awh, my sweet baby... Auntie Betty loves you too." 

And we'd lay there. She would usually carry conversations all around my snuggle fest, and I'd stay quiet. Never talking, just being.



I'm experiencing deep grief right now, mingling with a feeling of hot - burning - seething rage.

A couple years ago, Aunt Betty got worse as far as mobility was concerned. She had a family member on a side that we aren't familiar with working with her. Said side of family chose to have 0% involvement with anyone else. They moved her, and cared for her without so much as a phonecall. Ever.

My family, if you want to call it that, has always been pretty broken. Another Aunt and Uncle who I don't speak to, neither does my mother (unless she absolutely has to) apparently knew more than anyone would tell us. 

So, I had only been to see my Aunt Betty once within the last - maybe 5 years. It's an odd thing that happens when one of your favorite relatives is now mainly associating with people who you don't know, have - oddly - never been around before, and don't like you for unnameable reasons.

Oh, by the way, Aunt Betty wasn't poor. I'll say that... Random relatives out of nowhere came for what reasons now?

Because they were NEVER there before. I remember Aunt Betty talking about stopping and seeing them once in awhile, but one of Aunt Betty's friends said they always judged Aunt Betty and said things like, "Don't come up here on your high horse and judge us."

If you're shit, you're shit. Doesn't matter how rich or poor. Aunt Betty never spared someone's feelings if they were out of line, and rude. As I'd said before.


Anyways - they, apparently, didn't like us too much either. I remember when I got my first set of headshots done... My Aunt Betty carried one with her and showed EEEEVVEERRRYYYOONNNEEE. Angry extended family included... That couldn't have gone well.

Of every Christmas, holiday, birthday and random gathering... I recall seeing one of these douchebags once. My Grandpa and Aunt Betty were the only two people in this family who were honestly happy and proud of me for doing everything I'm doing with acting, filmmaking and business. They would always tell everyone about everything I did, even if it wasn't amazing - or a 'big deal'.

Aunt Betty, from in her kitchen, was heard saying, "Look at my little Aprily-poo! She's a star!"

Douchebag at the kitchen table: "Of what?"

Aunt Betty: "Movies! TV! She does it all! She's going to go places!"

Douchebag: "...Right..."

The fuck?

It's been said they don't like me because I'm 'Hollywood' - and all the sick stereotypes that apply to most other young women in the industry somehow apply to me. "Young, rich, snobby, fashion-oriented, spoiled, rude, obnoxious, stupid, childish, ignorant..." That's me, apparently.

Bitch, have you met me?! Detroit baby, all the way. Ain't nothing 'Hollywood' about me, no matter where I have houses. Pump those breaks.

They don't like my Mom either, obviously. Aunt Betty would tell me tons of stories about her and my Mom, and all the times they sat around and played drunken games around my age.

I told my Aunt Betty about my self injury - very briefly. She was nothin but supportive of hopeful recovery. She knew I drank - cautioned me with, "Baby, we have too many alcoholics in this family for you to get too familiar with the bottle. Watch it."

I learned my lesson. She tried to warn me.

She was the only person who made me feel loved, safe, and worth anything. She was always there for me, and would do anything for anyone.

Come to find out, my Aunt Betty was in the hospital for a good 2 weeks before she finally passed... And NOT A GOD DAMN PERSON THOUGHT TO GIVE ANY OF US A FUCKING CALL.

......... Oh, I'm so mad. I just can't handle it.

We had no idea she wasn't good, we had no idea she was anywhere near death. Not a single person thought to call.

Which is why this whole stupid thing is so fucking stupid. I never thought to go see her when she was okay, awhile ago, because I was so worried about my clearly not being welcome. Not by Aunt Betty, but the douchebags taking care of her (and her money). 

I know myself too well, and I know their complete and utter lack of human compassion. I'm a pretty solo flying person in life. My Mom wouldn't fly in and accompany me - my siblings wouldn't join my fight - and so many adults still look at me like I'm some stupid 12 year old that has no place speaking my mind. 

So, it would have went badly. I know it. God forbid one of the dochebags was there, and god forbid they say something rude to me or tell me to leave...

...I've been to jail once. I have shit to do, I don't wanna go back. I probably would have made a scene because I've been holding so much anger for these people, on top of the fact that the dysfunction they practice is infuriating. 

And your trying to keep me from my Aunt?

Then I'd have to call someone who would just belittle and berate me for 'acting childish' and 'causing a scene' when I knew and felt that it was fucking necessary. Then I'd have to repeat 4,000 times how I don't understand why standing up for myself (verbally, of course) and how I feel instantly equals childishness and lack of understanding?

Aunt Betty would for sure get out of that bed and defend me if she was any younger. She would surely get on that phone and tell someone to shut the hell up if she could hear better... Like she used to.

I'm mad at myself for not risking it anyways. 

I'm mad at everyone else - her kids, my parents, the whole lot of them - for not fixing this earlier. For not getting involved - even if it was arguments and drama - to solve this problem. 

It's not useless, mindless, aggravating drama if there's a positive, loving point. Right?

That's how I feel anyways.

So - I didn't get to see my favorite Aunt Betty. I didn't get to lay with her, take a nap with her, to talk to her one last time.

I'm hurt. Very, deeply hurt. 


I, of all people, should have known better than to have that loopy assumption that people will live forever. That they'll be fine. That nothing will happen to them if you love them enough. Even from a distance.

My heart hurts today... And at the same time, I want to break faces. I won't, of course, but I want to. How dare they. 

If at the very least I could bitch them out nice and good, I'd feel better.

To top it off, Aunt Betty is being buried in a cemetary in Detroit where her son and husband are buried that is the most dangerous cemetary in MI. The funeral home told Aunt Betty's daughter that she shouldn't go visit her there unless she brings a cop, a gun, or someone with a gun.

Fan. Fucking. Tastic.

Uuughhhh.

I can really say I've never had this cocktail of emotions before. This is very new. Grief and anger. It's different than the suicide grief/anger - way different. 

I imagine this is something in the state of those families whose loved one is murdered, and the murderer was found, and all they must want to do is destroy them.

Again - not exactly the same, but... Similar. Only way I can think to explain it.

Then there's wonder.

I was standing outside today, just looking around. Aunt Betty loved the snow, and and loved watching squirrels. I tried to find a squirrel, and it started snowing.

I swore I heard her laugh right before I heard her saying, in my head, "Don't be so mad, April. It's not worth it."

Damn you and reason, Aunt Betty. I will avenge your death! (Drastic and not a %100 accurate statement but I like it).

Tonight, I saw a pretty big white mist form - out of nowhere - in the middle of the room - and swirl around for a minute. Then disappear. 

Hey Aunt Betty, figuring out the spirit world! She was always a go-getter, a do'er.

I would have really liked to be with her when she passed away. I can't explain it... I just feel like I needed to be that person there for her at that exact moment.

Yes, I'm grown. No, it's not worth it. Yes, I understand that. But I'm still holding out for a great bitch session. My personal problem with bitching someone out is that I have to get to such a dangerous place to even do that, that when I open my mouth my rage is so pure and raw that it's often times nothing logical or sensible. Just a string of profanities. I don't go around beating people up, I never would. 

...but I always feel better after I can curse someone out nice and good, and it's a safer alternative to breaking faces - right? I like to think so. I've always been a 'words are just words' person. 

I think I just needed to type it out, purge it safely. I feel better... Thanks guys! lol


Anyways, I'm sad. I'm hurt. I miss you, Aunt Betty. Bonus for me? I know it's just a matter of time before I see you. You may have been cooped up and 'off-limits' in life, but in death... You're mine! MWAHAHAHAHAHA! 

Creepy? Eh, whatever.

I love you, Aunt Betty. I'll be seeing you.


Sunday, February 23, 2014

A conversation with Jared. #StopSuicide

My friend Jared and I had lots of conversations. Some of the most memorable were while we were on set. He was the cinematographer, DP, whatever you wanna call it, on the set of a still-waiting-to-be-finished-and-released-probably-never-will-surprise-another-lie-no-one-was-happy-about-that horror film, 'Elmwood'.

Jared and I eventually developed a pattern... 'Elmwood' was your typical horror film, filmed outside in the woods. Kids go camping, killer in the woods type of film. Our habit was that every night shoot, during break, we would find each other off somewhere in the woods and just talk. It wasn't pre-planned, never talked about, we just always did.

One of these nights, I had walked off to where I could get a clear view of the sky. The stars. As you should know by now, my best friend Kyle killed himself a bit before we began filming 'Elmwood'. He left a blurb in his suicide notes about the stars... And we would always play this made up 'star formations' game when he was alive... So I was star gazing.

"Hey."

I turned around, it was Jared. 

"Hey."

"What'cha doing?" He hopped up on to the familiar picnic table, handing me a coffee.

"Trying to find the stars."

They were all over the sky... But he knew what I meant.

"Are you okay?"

I nodded, I wasn't, and drank my coffee.

"I've thought about killing myself, too."

My head snapped his way so fast I'm surprised coffee didn't fly out of my mouth.

"Jared, that's not funny."

"Who said it was supposed to be?"

I looked down. I wasn't sure I could have that conversation... Again...

"...I said I thought about it. I didn't say I was going to do it."

Okay, fine. Bait taken.

"Why?"

He sighed. He told me a long story about his solo camping trips - and one time, when he was on a Mountian, he wanted to jump. He wanted to go to a specific Mountian and jump.

"JUMP?! What the fuck, Jared?!"

He laughed. It wasn't funny.

"That's not funny! Jump off a fucking Mountian?!"

"I think that's the only way to go. If I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna go big. See some sights, enjoy the air and the fall..."

"...I don't wanna hear this, Jared."

Silence. 

"But you won't do that... Right?"

He looked at me, sipped his coffee, and swung his gaze to the stars. "I don't think so."

"Uhm.. 'I don't think so' isn't a very comforting answer."

"I've always been depressed, April. I'm always alone, mostly by my own choosing - as you are - but it's not all happy. I'm the poet, in the corner... More comfortable silent and reading than slamming beers and 'bitches' (He used air quotes, btw), and that somehow makes me gay... People don't get me. Not even my own family."

Which sprouted into a good hour long conversation, first I've ever had actually, into the reasons family can't understand. They're not supposed to. Uplift yourself, be unique, find like minded people like yourself. I compared how similar that was to Kyle, and did what I could to reformat his brain.

"I'd say goodbye to you."

Kyle didn't say goodbye to me. I had told him that, and how much that had hurt. This hurt just as bad.

"Jared..."

"I would."

"Please promise me you won't kill yourself."

"April..."

"...Just fucking promise me, Jared. Promise me you won't ever kill yourself."

He sighed, and slipped an arm around me. "I promise you, I will not kill myself."

A year and some change later, he did just that. Jumped off a 10 story building to his death, from a hotel in California by LAX.

This is a photo of us together on the 'Elmwood' set, one of those many nights. Our editor and good friend Taylor took this photo.



Fuck you for lying, asshole.

*sniffle*

He did say Goodbye to me, tho. He sent me a beautiful text that I had accidentally deleted and tried to get the damn phone company to give back to me. They wouldn't. Assholes. Assholes everywhere.

...he did say goodbye. He sent me his goodbye text right before he jumped. Basically, "...You'll do amazing things in this world. Don't give up, keep fighting and show everyone that brilliant light inside you."

Fucking asshole. Why couldn't YOU DO THAT TOO?!

I miss you.

Please, stop suicide. Please please please. 

I, personally, can't take it anymore.

Fans? No... Family.

I've spoken several times about how much I love my fans. How much I love the people I counsel... 

...Today, I wanted to share some memories and special moments I've had with them here. Yes, I do speak with some very personally and confidently. Some have my personal number, and some I can't reveal their names (counseling privacy). Some leave inspirational tweets, texts or whatever every so often. 

These are my people - my family - my friends. Some may technically be 'fans', some may technically be the 'people I counsel'. Not appropriate. 

What you all are, is family.

No matter how often I can respond, how available I am at a certain time... 

I love you guys. All of you. 

You have no idea how a small message from you while I'm on the run, or a correspondence when I'm available, or a photo... Especially the messages of recovery and hope... How much it means to me. 

How very much it means to me to be able to connect with you, know you, and help you in ways I would have never imagined.

Thank YOU. I see you all - you have my love and support endlessly. 










































Every single one of you better check the next set of dates/times for the meet & greet. I want to hug and love on each and every one of you!! 

Hugs, & kisses. XO 


"If your actions inspire others to do more, to learn more, to dream more or to become more, you are a leader." -John Quincy Adams

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Stronger

Something I've always realized... Most people look to the strongest person - usually a man - and see if they're breaking down - before they make the assumption to the true demise of the issue, situation.

Or often times, people in charge.

Like on an airplanes. All the passengers look to the flight attendants. If they show any signs of panic, worry, distress... Then they start to lose it.

I'm always that person. My whole life, before I even realized it, it was my decisions and my actions that either caused everyone else to panic and move into total chaos - or calm down dramatically. 

It's complicated and unable to be managed or understood when you're young. I'm growing up, I'm figuring out who the hell I am. What makes me tick. How to manage my own emotions. How the hell do I recover from self injury and get sober, manage my recovery and dig through the pain. Fix it.

I was young. Late teens, early 20s (because that was so long ago, I know guys shut up) and I was in the kitchen at my parents house. My Dad was yelling. Per usual. My Mom was yelling back. Also, per usual. Cats skidding across the wood floor to find some place to hide.

I'm just sitting there, minding my own business, eating my cereal.

Now, I've learned a few lessons up to this point. I had already done the whole, "Stop yelling at Mom." Or "Leave Dad alone." Thing in my much younger years. That never got me anything but the whole argument turned in my direction.

I had, at that point, also tried the 'adult' thing to do. "Guys, can we please keep it down." Or "Why doesn't everyone take a break." Or "It's really nothing to upset yourselves about like this, not worth it."

That, also, got the whole argument turned my way.

So, as much as it angered me - hurt me - upset me... That this negativity, that I could feel in my bones, was inescapable... Always would be over here... 

I said nothing. Thing were thrown around, per usual. Stuff broken. Doors slammed. Curses and horrible verbal assaults launched back and forth...

I said nothing. 

When the eyes fell upon me, as if asking me to say something... I fell silent. 

Mom stomps off. Dad stomps off. 

I keep eating. 

A bit later, when the cats feel safe to come out of hiding - and the energy lightens... Out would always pop one parental unit. 

They would still be in their anger. Dad would still be cursing to himself, slamming and throwing things around. Mom would look to complain about Dad to the first person she saw. In detail. Like I wasn't there. 

I made it a point to smile, hum, talk cheerfully like there was nothing that happened at all. Regardless how I needed to release that experience... I acted like it never happened.

That worked.

The whole tension released. I let Mom complain without asking her to stop, I let Dad break as much as he wanted without screaming at him to stop.

Just held it all in, let it all happen... Not fighting it, trying to make it all stop, when that's all I wanted to do.

Not the best thing for a recovering cutter - but, what can you do. Bad vs. Bad. Neither option would be good. 

So, that's what life has become. All around.

I can handle everyone's issues, that's fine. I have kids I counsel, I love helpin people through their issues. That's something I know I excell in. I'm really, really good at it. If they take my advice, anyways. *wink*

...but what happens when I need help? 

What happens when I need someone to talk to? I need to vent, yell, cry, get mad and curse someone out just because?

Can't. There's no one.

Not anymore, anyways. Not right now.

Kyle was always there. So was Jared. They were, honestly - no joke - the only two people that could ever be there for me. Ever wanted to, ever were any good at it.. Understanding people and how to deal with them was easy. 

And they killed themselves. Ironic.

I have friends, good friends, well into their 50s and 60s. I have friends, good friends, that are 18 and 19. I have friends my own age... Few, but some. 

Not a single one of them really can be there for anyone. Either it's inappropriate - they're married with kids with their own problems, they've got their own stuff going on... Or they just can't do if.

I've tested the few who have said, "If you ever need anything, I'm here for you." And it always falls short. Not by my own tainted expectations - just did. Fact is fact.

It takes a lot - a real, hell of a lot, to get me to admit that I need help. Recovery, the steps be damned - it never happens. 

Primarily, because I've tried and it's failed - and my true blues are dead.

But when I do take that step, it's off. Odd. People are usually silent, either repeating a string of, "Oh honey..." Or "I'm sorry..."

Most often I get what I hate the most. 

"It'll be okay, you're the strongest person I know. You can handle it."

That's it. That's always it. Over, and over, and over again.

"You're the strongest person I know, you'll figure it out."

"You'll be fine, you're a fighter."

...... Really?

I always stop my venting, my heart to heart, right there. Either thank them and get off the phone, or change the subject and walk away quickly. 

If it's a moment where I need to bitch for a second or two, meaninglessly, and just purge that - what always, ALWAYS, happens is... The other person adapts to my bitching. They start to freak out, they start to panic, they start screaming 10xs louder, about some stuff that makes no sense. 

Even tonight... I'm trying to find out about company paperwork, and through asking some technical questions, somehow I get screamed and yelled at in a bunch of, "WHAT ABOUT ME AND WHAT THE FUCK I WANT?!" ways.

Quite honestly, I'm really sick of having no body. I'm really sick of being alone. I'm sick of people dumping their stuff on me... Not to be confused with askin me to help them with an issue.

I never have anyone to talk to. I never have anywhere to go. 

Not since Kyle. Not since Jared.

Even if we fell out and didn't talk every day, I knew they were out there. I know they would talk to me and help me through everything, they have a bunch of times. They were the people who you could show up on their doorsteps 15 years from now, and not questioned. Just asked what you needed, and snuggled, and given cookies and food - cooked for, even - and they could talk about the complexities of the human mind, and the world, for hours. Give you 200 reasons someone may have said or did something, and another 200 how to move through it and forward.

I've been told, "Success is lonley. It'll be pretty lonley for you, April. You've dealt with much, much worse things in life than loneliness. You can make it, you know that right?" My medium friend Wendy, always with the ah-ha comments.

It's really tough being my age and being in charge of so much. Not that I didn't ask for it, not that I don't want it - I do. It would just be really beautiful if I didn't have to do it all myself.

If it was packaged in some beautiful, educated, tall, business minded, older, creative, artistic, smart, big word knowing, sensitive, sickeningly romantic man - I wouldn't be mad. (Hear that world?! Yeah, yeah I'll wait. Soulmates. Check.)

It's so tiring and draining being positive and uplifting, when all you want/need to to is cry, or scream.... But you're the one person who can't, because you're in charge of holding everyone else together.

Everything. I mean I'm not even a full 5'3" and I've had men, women, older & younger tell me they feel safer with me. What the hell? I'm a strong, independent fighter - so apparently I'm in charge of physically protecting everyone too? Not that I can't, am unable, or don't want to... Just... 

...would be nice if once, maybe once, or even for a little while every so often... I didn't have to be expected to do all of it. All the time.

*sigh*

Life.

There's gatta be a reason. It's stressful, it makes relapse more of a vivid and much desired fantasy.. There's gatta be a reason.

Stress can't be good for a person. I can't go grey yet, just can't... I'm not even 27... Not that I'm vain, but come on...

So, tonight, I have been yelled at. Screamed at. Had tons of problems from tons of people dumped on me, as they have been my whole life... It just gets shitty every time it comes from people you really put hope and faith into. Really and truly believed weren't those people.

I kept my cool, and went into sadness - as I do now, it's better than anger - and bid said person a peaceful night.

I came up into my room, laid in the dark, and was beyond grateful when both of my cats jumped up on my bed with me. 

It's almost 5am, I can never sleep... Why not write about it?

Coffee isn't going anywhere... Neither are the bags under my eyes, I guess. 

My cats can't talk, but they know when I'm stressed - they find me, they know what's up. I think that's a part of why I love animals so much more than people...

...Just saying, if someone wanted me to stab an animal or stab a human, that human better start running cuz I ain't never hurting an animal. I'd sooner hurt myself.

So, Harvey is laying at my feet. Luna is next to my head. I'm in the dark, and I've had to pee the whole time I've typed this.

TMI?

Sucks for you.

I know there's a reason I am the way I am - I can rebuild lives, fix huge psychological issues (without a degree anyways). I can build companies and market like a genuis...

...there's a pause for some reason I don't know about. This life is the way it is for a reason, I guess. 

Who am I kidding, I know this - me of all people knows this.. It's just really hard to remind yourself of. 

What do they say? "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

Stronger. Hmm.

Here's to 6am. I'll be awake Lifeclassing myself to death, trying to purge all this crap. 

Me, myself, and I.

Oh, and my cats too. They really love Oprah. Who doesn't? 

XO


Sunday, February 16, 2014

Winters Tale

"Magic is everywhere around us. Time and distance are not what they appear to be. There is a world behind the world, where we are all connected..."

* SPOILER ALERT: If you plan on seeing this movie, and don't wanna know what happens... Come back to this once you've seen it. *

So, today I went and saw Winters Tale... And wow. I had a somewhat spiritual experience in that theater. I have to share it.

First, if you don't have any clue what I'm talking about... Watch these links first, then continue on:

'Winters Tale' Trailer

'Winters Tale' Featurette

First, I want to give a HUGE high five to the writer, Mark Helprin for the novel concept. An even BIGGER high five to Akiva Goldsman for adapting all the correct parts to the screenplay, and leaving the parts out that were right to not include. 

As soon as the movie ended, I said, "This had to have been a novel." It was a better concept than any films that have been released in a long time. Right up there with 'The Notebook'. Second, there were some fuzzy parts that were well explained - but too quickly to really grasp. Hence, what usually can happen in novel adaptations. They have to plug it in there, but taking the time they took in the book to explain and elaborate would make this a 4 hour movie. Which, truly, I would have watched. The ending got kind of hazy, once they switched between times.

I was also kinda lost in the whole 'giving/taking' miracles thing, and why they wanted Beverly dead. Will Smith playing the devil was a solid choice, I was pleasantly surprised. Still confused on all those how's and whys, and when Beverly was reborn as the other little girl - that went kind of quickly. But, again, book to film adaptations - sometimes does. Akiva did a wonderful job.

You should all really go see it. Elise loves it! (Hey girl, hey! I told you!)


Anywhoo... This really, I guess, goes with my Soulmates post from a couple days ago. I really resonated. The film focused on Peter Lake, meeting his miracle - the love of his life - Beverly. She dies, or is killed by a demon for Peters mistakes and sins. Peter lives on, I suppose, through 18 or 19something to 2014. He is left with no memory, just all these objects and thoughts and feelings and random desires, all leading him back to his story from his 'past life', so to speak, with Beverly. Whom he meets, again, in 2014, in the daughter of Virginia - and he finally saves her life.

There's so much, so much from that film that I have lived personally. Like someone else out there has had the same past life connections, soulmate recognition, and spirit guide influences that I have. I've never seen it done. More importantly, never adding what I do with my 'gift' - the good and evil. His horse, who appeared out of nowhere that is his spirit guide, that can fly... Pointed him in Beverly's direction. Reminds me of my spirit guides... Who have been angels and people, but really animals too, I suppose. 

The fact that as soon as they saw each other, there was something different. Something very, very different that happened instantly. And they both knew it. 

Then, when she passed away... And he really thought he could love her so much he could save her...

...then, him 'waking up' in 2014 with all these unexplained things. How he just kept drawing Beverly, and had no idea who she was or why. Finding pieces from the past, that had belonged to him, and not realizing it. Going on a hunt to find it all, piece it back together.

And how Abby (Beverly) found him again, and the man from the past that was standing in the corner. Flipping that coin again. Watching. Making sure they ran into each other.

I have had 16 past lives. I haven't spoken about that before, but I have. I have had 16 past lives spanning from ancient Egypt to the 1950s. I don't pick up pieces from just one past life... I don't pick up people from just one. I pick up pieces randomly from all 16.

Fun fact: I wasn't a female in all of them.

I know there were some that went unnumbered as I learned and ascended on the 'other side'. When I watched over people, as a guardian angel. I've been told I was a Goddess (that's what the medium called me) of a couple realms. I saw over several different things. I do, really, remember some of that - too.

Sounds like some weird fantasy/sci-fi movie of book, doesn't it?

Nope. It's real. 

Here's one girl talking about her experiences as she discovered it: 

Here's some kids talking about their past lives:

When I was very young, I remember having dreams about my births - miscarriages (by way of other parents who I'd been accidentally sent to) - and drowning. I thought I could breathe under water for the longest time, and my mom told me she took me to a child therapist/doctor when I was little about my fear of water.

Nah, I was just scared of drowning again. I'm pretty positive that was from my death on the Titanic.

Yep. I was one of the dead on the infamous Titanic. Hellurrr! I was also a couple other people and things, all involved someway in some kind of awesome documented story in some part of history. Lucy (Lucille Ball) was my mom once, my sister another time. Not sure which time periods were which.

I know that my soulmate/boyfriend/girlfriend/lover in each lifetime was someone, usually, outside of who I married. It was hard for us to find each other - either I was 'well known' and 'popular' and he wasn't, or it was the other way around. He was a king, I was less than a pesant in one actually. I know there was one that he was reborn, I wasn't - I skipped out on that lifetime - and he had been a female in the lifetime before it, but was a man in this one. It was 1800s, so he thought he was gay when he was really just recalling a past life - he basically died completely depressed and confused, married to a woman he really didn't love, and seeing men on the side he really didn't care for either because it was like a 'shadow memory' and he couldn't place it.

I remember being a prostitute, on a riverboat. I do know one of the people I was with who was kinda well known, a woman - actress, actually. Pretty well known. You'd all known who she was. We were really close, maybe even sisters. 

...and that, right there, sucks sucks sucks. I have a butt load of soulmate/past life experiences. Most of them in my own soul, my own head - heart. When they involve other people, that's really hard. 

In 'Winters Tale', when Peter saw the slide of Beverly and burst out in tears, realizing what he was and who she was and piecing that puzzle together - remembering his relationship with her... I've gone through that 2 times. Once with Lucy, the second with P. Swayz. 

But they're dead.. Yeah, sucks.

Then I've met Kelly, who was my sister in a past life. Kim, who was a good friend in a past life... And a couple others here and there. Kelly & Kim both know, they're both aware of the past life thing, but they're still human. 

I don't know if my soul feels the tie to not only this life, but the past life relationships stronger than others... But, like, Kelly for example... She's got a heart of gold. She would do anything for anyone if she could, and I know she does have a family relationship in her soul for me, but in this life - she has severe severe communication issues. She knows that. She just just doesn't call, or text, or want to hang out. A very, very solo - individual person. 

My person in this life can't deal with that - can't build a relationship, family or not, around that. I know that's an issue creeping in from not only her past lives but her past issues in this life - and she's supposed to work on and learn to fix those in this life, it's a part of her lesson.

...but at what time does someone learn their lesson? More importantly, is it in a timeframe that is acceptable for bein in relationships with others? Her lesson may take her 15 years to learn. 15 years from now, we will have long been out of touch. 

That is when I feel for Peter Lake.

I feel like I am that man, for gods sakes.

I know for a fact, without any doubts, and have been told, that I will see my Kyle again. I will be old, much older. I will meet Kyle in another body - much, much younger man. A young man that looks to me for advice and help in the film industry. 

I will know it's Kyle... And I will want to cry, hug, scream... But I won't be able to. Because no one will know that but me.

See, this stuff may look like some cool gift - but it's pretty damn lonley. 

I know I'll see my very best friend who killed himself again, in human form. I will. As anxious as I am for that moment... I'm terrified. 

What would you say?! LOL! Maybe I'll have it planned out by then. 

I know there's more to this life than the hand we're dealt. Than we can see. It exists beyond our thoughts and feelings, and deep in the center of who we are. 

I was pretty well known in ancient Egypt, I was in the Hatfield & McCoy era, I had a husband that beat the shit out of me, I was a prostitute, I was on the Titanic, I stayed and grew/ascended on the 'other side'... I've been male and female. I've been very rich, and very poor. I've murdered, and been murdered.

And all of that knowledge, those feelings, live deep inside of me. Mingling with who I am, who I'm going to be, and everyone I'll ever meet.

I'm most tuned in with the fact that being human is weird... My time on the 'other side', I guess. Most of it is kinda unexplainable. It's weird having arms, legs... Feeling emotions is weird, and they all have names. People can operate so dis functionally, or in such connection with the 'other side', with peace. 

There are things, like cars, we all drive. The confusion I constantly feel with, as I have spoken about before, living in bad relationships with others - just because someone is 'sad' or 'alone'. I don't understand. If people only knew.

Depression forms it's self in me when my soul, my knowledge of where I'm going and what I'm destined to be - is met by this human experience. Lessons, pain... Being human. Being where I am right now, in this moment. Knowing it's not where I'm destined to be. 

Light worker. It's what I'm called in this lifetime, I guess. At least I know what I am... Human, but not at the average human consciousness. With all this knowledge, memories, feelings... And being human, constantly having more - new - challenging challenges thrown at me. 

And having to adapt.

Like when I see said person on TV who I know I shared a past life with, I can't just call her up. I know I'll meet her eventually, and I know she's open enough to talk about it... But when? I'm living the human life, with an evolved consciousness... I know what I know, but human life makes me wait. There's this concept called 'time'. God, that's the worst thing about life. Time. 

I'm impatient. 

If I flip a channel and see her, I laugh to myself and keep flipping. There's actually a very famous older woman who was the mother of a pretty famous younger man in a past life... And they have no idea. None at all. Not even sure either party knows about each other at all.

Or how some people in this entertainment industry don't understand that some of the stories they're living - the characters they play, in this made up world - they have no idea that some of it is designed to be hints, tips, to people they're supposed to meet - a life they once lived - or the direction their life is going to go in.

Since I'm in this industry of entertainment, I guess that's why it's more seen to me. I don't know. I also think it's so sad... Actors, directors, these people are designed to be 'larger than life' people. Bigger and more important than so many. Because of that, and the level of crazy the media builds their fans to, the security around them doubles - triples. Goes way way up. They're put off by tons of screaming people, all knowing nothing more about them than what their publicists have strategically released about them to put the marketed image of who they're wanted to be out to those screaming people. Put off by the people who can only refer to them by their character, or storyline, or what movies they've done - because they have so much money, they've got bankers and agents and bodyguards... And so many people to do so much for them. Just short of wiping their asses for them, if they want it or not. 

So they live in this 'fame'. This bubble of security, and they know better than to openly walk in public - or sit and talk with a random 'fan'. They'll start designating who they deal/speak/relate/involve themselves with by how 'important/famous/well known' they are. How they fall on the rank they, also, have been placed on. If they're on there, they must be safe.

How would they know? Oh, wait, they've had all their thoughts though and acted on for them. They never had to do it. They've been told what to do, how to do it, who they should be, for so long... They reach a point where they can't even be in society as a normal person again.

Not because they're famous, or well known, or an actor, or director... Because they don't know how.

It's been said time and time again how 'lonley' 'fame' can be. How sad and miserable things so 'wonderful' can be. Hmm. Interesting. 

I can guarantee that the joy and happiness in their lives would raise beyond their wildest dreams if they knew how to open their souls again. To step into the world... And meet those soulmate relationship people. Those past life connections.

People that are about more than an appearance, or who they've been shown to the world as. Sure, fans are fans - programmed to come to them by studios and agents who also want their cut of their fame... But what about the other people? 

My favorite story about a 'celebrity' interacting with a 'fan' in a normal, usual, life way.. When that high school kid wrote Lisa 'Left-Eye' Lopez a letter askin her to go to prom with him, and she went! Good for her!

Or when Lucy invited that kid Michael who was a huge fan of hers into her life. Let him work on her show, had him over for dinner, visited him at work.

I have relationships like that in my life, also. I have some relationships with all kinda of 'levels' of 'famous people'. VPs and owners of production companies, distribution companies. Media personnel, even some pretty damn well known actors. 

It's funny to me... Yes, they're busy... But they're all still pretty guarded. It isn't unless they've been free and clear from the industry for awhile that they're willing and able - wanting, to be completely free and open. Gain relationships with other people that aren't at their 'level'. To take what others would think to be 'chances' on friendships and relationships with others.

I've been shown an extreme amount of kindness and generosity by a very famous man, actually. I won't post his name here out of respect for him, but he knows who he is. A friend of mine has always been a very, very big fan of his. We did a couple projects together, so by way of fantastic social interwebs, we said 'Hey' a time or two before.

A bit ago, I had a somewhat discouraging post on my Facebook. He took the time to send me a private message, encouraging me. How nice of him! When my said friend who is a fan of his messaged him for advice, he answered back and was happy to provide it.

For said friends birthday, I messaged this famous broha and asked if he'd be able to maybe surprise her with me. He jumped at the chance, we contacted each other off the internet and set up a time/place, and let me just say it was the best present I could have ever gived another human being. 

He is the coolest, nicest, down to earth 'celebrity' I've ever met. He gave us both invaluable industry advice, and just chilled. Making it very clear to let him know if he could ever help either of us, and to make sure to keep in touch. 

I told him later, after that, that I want to be like him. I want to do that for my fans, I want to be that person to people in the position that I am now. I look forward to being a constant, very present, very attainable human being in the lives of aspiring actors/film makers/writers/whatever's some day. 

"Nothing ever happens that isn't supposed to."

It really doesn't.

...How open are you?

Again, common sense! I've personally connected with some of my fans, and it's been the most rewarding relationships I've ever had. My first fan became one of my very best friends, and a couple other ones I've Skyped with for hours and answerd all kinds of questions. Been available for support if they're struggling with suicide or depression... I love it. I can't imagine living behind some stupid wall. 

I look forward to being that celebrity, the one that enjoys the people. Sure, time and availability will be an issue - but I'll work with it.

Somewhere between now and then I'll meet my romantic soulmate. Truly, I really don't think he's at that place yet - or really has ever been. He's already in the industry, that much I know already. Also, he's older than me. I don't know what he's done, but he's done something... Some things, possibly. I may know of them, I'm not sure. When I ask the universe to send me some kind of hint, I get nothing but tons of images of writing. Paper, computer, legal pad things. Thanks guys, real helpful.

I'm not very good at getting my own life hacks, actually... Soul recognition, sure, but I don't know how hard they're trying to make this for me. Is there a lesson for me in it, too? I'm pretty certain there is. 

I'm pretty sure he's in transition right now. Personally, I feel like. I don't get all girly and whiny when I ask, but I do ask sometimes, "Why is it taking so long?" (Because I feel like I age in dog years) The only answer I ever get is, "He has lessons to learn and life to live, too. Don't worry, child. It'll be worth the wait."

I get, "It'll be worth the wait." A lot. Grr.

Have I mentioned how impatient I am?

So, I sit with my past lives and all this weird awesome confusing shit floating around in my head. Trying to figure out how to move through this human experience just like I'm supposed to...

...as a human.

*shrug*

I'll see how it goes this time around.

Hugs, XO