Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Hell is on Earth

My Uncle told me before he passed away that he died in a dream once. He said it was so beautiful, he had to tell my Aunt to keep an eye on him - and he had to try every day to not kill himself.

"April, baby, I was driving down the road... And all I could think about was how badly I wanted to go back."

"What was it like?"

"Oh, April, it was beautiful. No pain, no sadness, no emotional distress... All good. All happy and joyful. So beautiful."

He was a sensitive. Intuitive, I guess. He was the only person who would ever talk to me about that stuff. Him and my Aunt. 

He said before 9-11, he kept seeing black shadows billowing up to the ceiling of their cabin from the walls, like smoke. He got really sick, and really sad.

I guess I got it from him.

I think anyone with any hints of intuitiveness deeper than most - or sensitivity to spirit - deals with suicide at some point.

I personally believe all those who commit suicide were just highly sensitive/intuitive beings. 

...if you know and feel what's better than this world, even if you don't know you're feeling it... Yeah... 

I often question what the fuck I'm doing here. 

I mean, I know... I'm just sick of it.

Really. I am.

Side note: This blog seems to be dark the majority of the time, or is that just me? I guess I have to make a habit of blogging nice, joyful, light things too. Dark, deep thoughts are the ones that need to be purged. 

But really... I'm so sick of life. 

Not even in a depressed way, just in a, "Why did I come to earth? Why? I hate this shit."

I was chilling in the 'archangel realm' as a Goddess for spirit-centuries. Why the hell did I agree to this?! Why?! 

Having emotions sucks. Sad sucks. Depressed sucks. Anger sucks. Addictions suck. Anxiety sucks. Loneliness sucks. Being disappointed or discouraged and feeling those things sucks. 

It's fucked up that those things have names. That there are human beings taking medication for them. 

Sucks. I don't even like Hope or Faith as much as I used to, regardless that I had it tattooed on my foot. Too much Hope, Faith & Love just opens the door for disappointment and discouragement.

I seriously have to shave my legs, and my armpits, and whatever else for the rest of my life. The rest of my human life. 


God, that's irritating. 

I have hair I have to cut and do shit to. I have makeup and stuff to put on. I have arms, with nails to be done... Toes, too. 

We have to buy clothes, and that never stops. 

There are tasks to be done - move, buy a house, build career, get married, have kids... Blah blah...

...None of which feel like they're even in the country for me right now. Unattainable.

I hate that emotion, too. Ugh!

You have to have money, and I do - thank God - but people judge you so insanely based on it. Paper. Paper with dead people printed on it is what people judge you on. What social circles are comprised of. What keeps some people in, some out. 

What people die & kill & rob & do other horrible unexplainable things for.

What women marry for, have sex for, trick and scam for. Men do, too, but woman mostly. 

I don't get it. I can't understand it, at all. 

Then there's bad people. People who do horrible things. Murder, rape, hurt animals... Why? Why? Why does that happen? 

I don't even understand. I can't. 

Why do I have to be here? With that? With them? 

Oh yeah, humans and emotions. I made some stupid decision and agreed to come here to help people, and do all this awesome film stuff that stands for others and is a positive influence... Yada yada... Pfffft.

My Mom birthed me, people have emotions attached to me, so I can't go anywhere. If it wasn't for them, I can't guarantee I'd be here. Honestly. If it wasn't for the small group of friends I do have, and my parents, Kyle's Mom, Ashley's Mom, the example I am in what I've overcame... I can't exactly exit now. 


That, and I already know what it would be. I'd be in the exact same position Kyle is. Regretting it. Seeing what could have happened if I'd had patience and optimism. 

Lucy would get really mad at me, so would Jonathan and Archangel Michael.... & P. Swayz, & Marilyn, & my Grandparents... I don't even wanna deal with that.

Then, God forbid I have to come back AGAIN! I've already lived tons of lifetimes, I'd like to be done now. 

"You didn't do what you went to do last time, didn't learn your lessons, we're sending you back again."


I haven't loved. I haven't traveled as much as I'd like. I haven't had kids. I haven't been married. I haven't really started the life I want so badly for myself. 

At 25, it all just seems like too much work.

I'm tired already. 

I don't know who to trust, people lie and backstabbing me constantly. Feeling like I can't get off of the fucking hamster wheel of life. 

I'm tired. 

I just wanna go back.

Back where it's all simple and nice and happy all the time. Where I can help people in spirit, where I don't have to be upset or discouraged or feel perpetually tired and lost.

I know a lot of shit about life, that's easy. It's this god damn career that's been pre-programmed into my soul that's causing so much fucking bullshit. 

The fact that I would never be happy at a mediocre level. That my goal is legendary status, and that's the only option. That must, MUST, be the end result. 

God why did I agree to do this?! 

I hate being human. I hate it, so much.

I hate that I'm so beyond capable of so many things and I can't seem to get over this last wall. That relying on other people is the absolute worst thing ever. That I don't have any other fucking choice.


I hate it. 

I hate it so much.

Why couldn't I have been programmed with the ultimate desire to be a fucking resturant owner or something? A nurse? A Laywer? A stay at home Mom with no career? 

"Light workers and souls at your level aren't programmed that way."


We drive cars, our air is polluted, people don't know how to treat other people, we call people celebrities and make them seem bigger and better than us...

...& I'm in that fucking industry! 

I've sat outside at the resturant at Four Seasons LA so many times I can't even count and just people watched like I was at the Zoo. I don't understand. I try, I try I do... I try and understand the cars and clothes and attitudes... But I can't. 

I can't process this shit. 

The same way I don't understand how on earth my brain can process and learn in the super human way that it does, and I have the skill I have, and still be stuck?! 

Why I get into friendships and relations with people who present the world only to screw me royally and chuck a duce?

It's not that law of attraction either, I know I didn't being that shit into my life. Except, well, now I guess. But I'm honestly not a complainer - I'm an explorer.

This one girl that said tons of shit she didn't mean and did God knows what behind my back, Kelly, did the same shit! I still haven't gotten any hint as to what the fuck happened! 

I don't understand people here. I just don't. 

I can't wrap my mind around most of this crap.

It's simple, up there. It is. 

I like simple, easily understandable, everyone is equal, everything is happy shit.

I can dig it.

There's clocks, and people keep time. They have to sleep, and set alarms... And go places, and they sweat and get cold and hate themselves and have a favorite color and judge you and manipulate you and so on.

....what the fuck did I agree to?

Well, I'm stuck now. 

I wish I wasn't.

I wish shit here worked like it worked over there. 

It doesn't. 

I need to read the book 'Lightworkers' by Savanah-something again. Archangel Michael recommended that to me awhile ago about why I get stuck sometimes, and to help me in moments like these. 

So did Jonathan. They get it. 

I wonder how many people I was guardian of when I was in spirit? Hmm. I'm asking next time. 

I don't even understand how I was an ascended spirit Goddess, either! I can't even handle this right now and I'm 25! 

(Probably, like, 3,857,846 in soul years)

I just wish I could go back, take a break. Being human sucks. 

They're not kidding when they say that Hell is on earth. 


...& I finished this blog at 12:34! Been common #s lately... 

So confused. 

Uggghhhhh.... Damn you, humanity. Damn you.

Saturday, April 26, 2014

Lessons learned & Kyle's viewing

This is a random complication of lessons I learned during the however many hours that I spent at Kyle's viewing.

Well, between going to his Mom's and letting out the dog. 

Be forewarned, I'm currently experiencing high volumes of anger toward Kyle and his choice to kill himself at this current moment. The rest of my blog may be tainted with it.

I thought of this as I was carrying my coffee into my library. That'll be the obvious one from the kickoff.

Here we go:

- How to carry a cup without spilling the contents. Fail safe way. "Don't look at the cup. Look where you're walking. Focusing on not sloshing will, in actuality, make you slosh." Compliments of Kyle's Mom's best friend. I use it all the time.

- The people you think are your family act very un-family like. I had some woman introduce herself to me, sweet older woman, then say part of why Kyle killed himself was his parents divorce. And, oh yeah, she said it was Mom's fault. The divorce. Hmm.

- People care more about what they look like, or those representing them look like, than caring about the feelings of those experiencing the greatest grief. I had Kyle's aunt say a couple bitchy comments to me about Grandma's hair instead of being sympathetic and asking how I was doing. Not that I care how much she cared about my care... But really? Maybe she just doesn't know how to be sympathetic? I had told Mom about that comment later, and Mom lost her marbles. (Mom = Kyle's Mom)

- Everyone is suddenly your friend when you die. Everyone suddenly has stories. Everyone suddenly has some significant history. Fact: If these newfound friends... Or, hell, even friends who've been bouncing about for years... If they don't know both your parents names, all your siblings names, your favorite color, and even some dark family secrets that half your real family probably would die if anyone else knew... Yeah... Not so close...

- The most vulnerable people are the ones holding everyone up. Laughing, smiling, playing 'Host'. Why? They have no time to grieve. They are the one(s) holding everyone else together. If you look hard enough, tho... If you wait for the small tremble in the hug, or the prolonged glances at the floor during a smile, or the deep breaths regardless how ok they say they are... They are the ones who need the support the most.

- Shock is prolonged. It can come and go. Shock has triggers, too. You can lapse into shock out of nowhere. I witnessed a lot of silent shock. Mostly in the middle of sentences. You could see them get silent, stare off into the corner. You could feel them slip into the shock... Go back to that phonecall, realize exactly where they were and why. Shock. Lots of it. Comes randomly. 

- Someone always wants something. I can't tell you how many people approached me about film jobs while at Kyle's viewing. Or, how many people wanted to talk about the movie I was in they had just seen. Part of me didn't mind, because film was Kyle's passion too. The other part, the still angry and sad part, was livid and angry at everyone and everything. Silently, of course. 

- You suddenly become aware of your ability to do things you never in your life thought you would ever have the strength to do. You change, evolve, mutate into a different kind of human being. In the seconds it took for me to be led by the hand - by Kyle's Mom - up to his casket... I had completely changed everything I was, thought, felt. In an instant, I became the strongest person I'd ever been. Doing what I never thought I could do. Being strong and broken, then being reshaped from the inside out with a strength I never thought I'd have. I saw the same happen to his Mom and Sister, too.

- "That could have been me." Was all I thought for, I think, the first hour. Repetitively. Over and over again. After that hour and some change went by silently in my head as I made periodic glances toward Kyle's casket, I was then full of appreciation. I remember going outside to see Kyle's favorite cousin. We talked, reminisced, discusses what completely fuckery this was... And I was thankful I hadn't taken my life when I had planned. When I had tried. For the first time in my life, I appreciated being alive. I was thankful I was alive. I loved being alive. I thought I had appreciation before, in recovery... But I didn't. I was wrong. Until that moment, I wasn't appreciative or thankful for my life at all. I was then. Smelling the air, talking to her, watching the cars go by... I appreciated it. For the first time. For real. I, in a strange way, have Kyle to thank for that.

- Your family are the people who you choose to be in your life. Often times, they step up and do what your biological family should be doing. Kyle's Mom had no help from her family. Daughter and Ex, sure - of course. Cousins who are present, absolutely. But sisters and extensions? No. The people I watched step up to help weren't related at all. Kyle's Mom's house was filled with Kyle's Sister's friends, and Kyle's Mom's friends that night after he killed himself. I went with Mom to help her take care of Grandma after Kyle killed himself. Emily's best friends watched her sleep, held her while she cried, and we all together did what we could to make sure they were okay. Kyle's Mom's friends were making sure she ate, gave her help with house work and errands. At the funeral and the viewing, I watched Mom's two best friends make sure she ate, asked constantly if she was okay, helped in a real way. Apparently, Mom's siblings were in town for one night then left. Kyle's Dad's family was better with him, I heard. Staying with him, making sure he and Emily were okay. They've got tons of cousins, too, so I'm not sure how the care circle worked with them so I can't speak on it, but I'm sure it was good for the kids and Emily... Thank God Mom's got amazing friends. I heard that a sibling of her's actually asked her why she wore pants to Kyle, her son's, funeral instead of a dress. Take that in. Fuckery.

- People are still hesitant to use 'suicide' or 'killed himself' when someone has done just that. Grief and loss override the potential for truth, which is understandable and not something I'm debating - just exploring. I never once heard those truthful words at his viewing. Maybe they were spoken and I missed those conversations, but I did hear 'passed away suddenly' a bunch of times. 

- I interact in a very peculiar way at viewings. The closer the deceased is to me, the weirder I become. Or so I believe. As far as viewing/funeral etiquette is, anyways, I believe I am inappropriate. At Kyle's viewing, I experienced the following all at the same time more than a handful of times: The urge to vomit/cry/laugh/punch someone in the face/destroy something/hug someone/eat/climb in the casket with Kyle/listen to obscene rap music on full blast/counsel everyone/rescue everyone/give everyone a lecture on the necessity of suicide prevention/draw/read/write/experience  sudden diarrhea/find where Kyle was hiding his hidden cameras for the pilot he was surely creating... Among other things. What wins, usually, is laughing and making jokes. Smiling and hugging. I lose the ability to be sensitive - I think because I'm trying to keep my tears in check? I also believe in celebrating life, so, celebration wins. Then, I eat. 

- Most things in life you can't possibly prepare for. 

- Denial is real. Kyle tried to kill himself before. I was present in that debacle. Drove with his parents across state lines for it, too. Was in the room before they pumped his stomach. Denial. He would never do it for real. Denial. He did do it for real. Still, denial. That's one of the hardest things for us all to work past. Through.

- Love doesn't die. I never knew that. Heard it a lot. Read it a lot. Never believed it. Today, 3 years after his viewing and funeral, I still love him just as much as I did the 5'ish years ago we would spend every waking second together. 

- You can over-absorb an atmosphere. Over-absorbing can make you numb. Emotionally. That happened to me during the funeral, mostly. Maybe that's a sensitivity thing? 

- Experiencing a loss to deep, so profound, involving so many people you truly value as family... Can either completely destroy you & everything you do, or make you appreciate everything you ever come in contact with in a way you have never imagined you could. Your choice. Oh, and your choice can change in the snap of a finger depending on social/environmental triggers related to the death. Usually a choice to stay positive. 

- Death is final. Obvious? Yes. Remembering that? Not so easy. 

- Realizing that everyone is going to die. Really realizing that. I was a complete fucking mess when I lost my first cats, Cuddles & Kitty. Legit mess. I relapsed with self injury it was so painful. Relax, it was 5+ years ago. I have no clue what's gonna happen when something happens to my parents. Don't even want to think about it. Can't even imagine what Kyle's suicide did, and is still doing, to his immediate family. 

- Life is complicated. Everything you can possibly associate with it is complicated. That's a novel exploring that topic right there. You get it.

Done. Tired. Gonna read now. Or, watch more House, MD. Take notes. Ya know, work. The fun way. Woop.

April 26th, 1989

Update at bottom:

This date always comes and goes. I don't know why it had to be April, and it had to be my number - 26 - but it was.

I wasn't on this earth long when you passed. I was an infant. At least we got to co-exist together for a little while. 

I didn't meet you until much, much later. 21 years later, to be exact.

I get angry and frustrated with you so easily, and so frequently. For that, I apologize. You know how I am. Impatient, with the notion I can make things materialize at the snap of a finger. 

Honestly, I wouldn't be where I am without you. As insignificant a place as it seems to be, you've walked this whole road with me. You and Jonathan. Before I ever met either of you, you were there. When it was fated that you be put in my path, you were. I am so eternally grateful. 

Without you, I wouldn't believe in myself as much as I do. Blind faith is hard. I often question the things I've heard in your voice, the dreams I've had. The visions, the messages you pass through others for me. I second guess this - gift? - often. For that, I also apologize.

You're always the only person in this industry I trust completely. Granted, if you were still alive you'd be long out of it - or be making a Betty White style comeback. You work with me constantly, behind the scenes in a way most true to that phrase. 

You've believed in me when no one else has. You've stood by me and worked hard for me when I didn't think I could. You've been my rock, my platform, my breath. You've propelled me into comedy, and when I had silent fears about not being that good you told me that I've got more than enough of what it takes. That I have it.

Last year on this date, you came to me and gave me the absolute best dream. You showed me, yet again, the tons of people you have working for you - working for me. Someone as legendary, as powerful, as knowledgeable as you believing in me so strongly... Working so hard for me.... I don't even have words.

'Thank you' seems lame. Doesn't even cover it.

It's odd, how knowing you have some kind of connection with someone in spirit feels. Then, taking that connection - the, "Hmm, I feel like I know her." - and introducing it. Getting to meet that spirit, and getting to know each other. Our personalities. That, like any other amazing friendship, growing into a deep love and respect. 

Very new. Very cool.

"She loves you. I mean, really truly loves you - like one loves a child, or grandchild." Has always been one of my most cherished messages from my professional medium friend about you. 

You're always the one that steps up willingly when I've temporarily lost it. When I'm discouraged, deflated, and lost in a sea of tears. Our of nowhere you swoop in, giving more legendary advice. A great pep-talk. Addressing my fear/worry/concern, and knocking it down peg by peg from angles I hadn't even considered. 

You don't have to do that, but you do. 

I think that's the absolute best part of this gift. Getting to make more friends, meet more people. They can be any person, any person at all... Any dead person, anyways. I got to meet, befriend, and be forever guided/managed by you. I've won! If you would win, anyways. 

It's almost the time you died, I think. 

It makes me cry to think about. Then, thinking about it in another morbid way... How weird would it have been to know you as well in your life as I do now in your death? 


As upset as I get, as flustered as I am... It's the most fan-girl statement in the world and for that reason alone I don't want to use it but it's legit so I will... I know I can just put in any one of the 'I Love Lucy' episodes and you'll be right there with me.

(I don't know why it feels so much more obvious that she's there when it's 'I Love Lucy' - I'll have to ask. I think it's the energy with the show probably..)

It's true, tho. Very true. I know she's there. She fools around with the DVDs, and I think she enjoys those the most.

Anyways, thank you Mama Lucy. Thank you for being my friend, my industry Mom, mentor, manager, agent, grandmother, sister... And guide. I am so blessed that I'm walking this road with you beside me. It makes me feel so much stronger, and in control. 

I wish I could put you on my resume. Your number and contact information would have to be a medium, so the medium could be the middle man.

...Hey... That's not a bad idea... I'd actually really like to try that, see what everyone has to say... 

(She's laughing, btw)

April Washko
Manager: Lucille Ball
(Conversations had thru <mediums name>, phone #)

Oh I'd love to do that. Lucy thinks it'll get my medium a lot of calls, & me a good pass around the talk show circuit but that'd be it.

This is the only song I could think of while writing this blog, so here it is - from me to you, Lucy.

'I'll be seeing you' by Billie Holiday 

The dream I had of myself and Lucy in the bathroom, this was the exact color and type of fabric Lucy's dress was made out of - only it was the entire dress. I didn't find this photo till much, much, much later. Maybe I just missed the top? I only saw her from the side. 

Beautiful. You're stunning, Mama Lucy.


I love you, Lucy. I wish you were here. I wish I could hear you more clearly, see you completely all the time. You don't do it for a reason, I know. I'll know why later, yeah yeah. I just wish... I wish for so many things.

Happy Transition Day, Mama Lucy. I know you're resting in peace, but you've chose to be busy as hell.

Goodnight, everyone.

(Oh! And a big warm Happy Birthday to Carol Burnett! From Lucy & I!)  

I'll be seeing you, Lucy...


So I did have my dream. It was quick, and I don't remember total details because my stupid alarm went off... But there was Lucy, and she was walking me down a white hallway.

There were different rooms on each side, no doors. You could just look in. Different people, different situations going on in each room. She pointed inside each room and made comments on each. 

"Different people need to learn different things before they're placed in your life. You may feel like you're ready for it all, and you are, but that doesn't mean they are."

Basically, I'm a light worker. I learned most of my life lessons way sooner than most, which means others need to catch up. Surrounding every single person is a ton of lessons they are currently living, and they need to live those. I've already lived mine, and there are more coming, but I need to find my faith and hold it tight. Everything is coming to me, & for me. There's just a set of lessons others that will be involved in my story need to learn first. 

Tis all I remember! Yahoo! *does a happy dance* 

Thanks, Lucy! You're the best! 

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Messages via my dreams

I've had some weird ones lately. 

Who am I kidding, they're always weird. 

So the first one is... Dangerous? Maybe? 

I saw a bed, and a wall behind it. A woman with red hair on her knees tucking the sheets & stuff into the mattress. On the wall behind her & the bed were 9 degrees. Three in each row, all with wood frames. Three rows. Maybe they weren't all degrees, maybe some certificates? The middle row, the middle degree had '3-9' written very large in what looked like sharpie across it. 

This woman lifted her head and looked right at me. She had long, curled red hair. She almost looked like the woman who plays Wendy in the Wendy's commercials, only a darker red color hair. She had a string of pearls around her neck, wore a deep red sleeveless dress, and red lipstick. She was smiling deviously, almost devilishly at me. Held that for a good 20 seconds. I didn't get a good vibe from this woman, or this dream. Then, I woke up.


Had another dream with a guy. Big dude, bald, pot belly. I think he said his name was Fisher? Or, "My buddy's call me Fisher." There was a room, a modernly renovated barn type thing. Light wood paneling. The room from the angle I saw it at was a L shape. Hay covered the L shaping, around the pointed corner, lying on some metal table kind of thing low to the ground. I think he was murdered because he said something like, "They left me under that shit." He made me feel like the barn had been renovated since he was killed. I don't think he is still there, I think he was killed a long - long time ago. That's what it looks like now, but at the time that's where he was dumped? There was a woman involved. I think. I felt a womanly presence... Maybe it was just Lucy telling him to move on. Really friendly guy, very boisterous personality. That's all I remember before I woke up.

Again, wtf?

Next, it's me. Me and a friend. We're at a circus, a fair. Much resembling the fair thing on/at Santa Monica Pier, only this was on dirt. If you're from Michigan, it resembled the Livonia Spree. I meet with this guy - late 50s, tall, big belly. He's wearing a suit. He hands me and my friend business cards and says he's a producer. He has thin, white hair. Balding. Very thin hair. He leads us to a table and starts talking to us about numbers and studio marketing. He takes one of the business cards he handed me out, and as he's talking and looking right at us he has this plastic wheel like hand held mechanism with which he begins to scratch out all his personal information. He doesn't stop the flow of his pitch as he doesn't bother to look while he writes down another set of his info. New name, new number. Waits a second, and also begins scratching it out. He does all this three or four times. I look over to my friend like, "What the fuck, are you seeing this?" I wake up.


I had a small continuation of a dream I had awhile ago. Dark room, almost like black curtains were strung up. I'm at a low wood table on the right. Some man in a light blue button up with jeans is to my left. There's a gap in the 'curtains' where bright light is seeping in. On my side there's all my people - Lucy, P. Swayz, Angels, spirits. On this guys side there's a ton of people I don't know, plus Alfie kind of hanging out in the middle - mostly on his side. There's an older man, grandfather figure, in front of us. He's loud & angry. Slamming his hands on the table looking at the man next to me screaming at him, "What are you doing to yourself?! Wake up!" He points at me, "Open your eyes, she's right there! Do something!" Lucy is next to me with a hand on my shoulder. I ask, "What's going on? Who is this?" She smiles, "Pay attention." I can't see the guy sitting down in the matching chair next to me. I catch P. Swayz wink at me. Alfie walks deeper into the shadows on this guys side, he looks back and forth between us. I catch this guys hands run the length of his legs nervously, then I wake up.

...Yep, again, WTF?!

I see someone, a dude, sitting at an island in what I assume to be a kitchen. There's a silver laptop open, notepad beside it. Can't see his face, he's wearing a grey tshirt. Alfie steps into frame behind him, looking over his shoulder. Space behind him un-blurs, I see a living room type setup. Alfie is in a chair in the darkened corner, he's pacing the length of the room behind him. The guy is having some kind of issues, I guess. His hand comes to his face and I hear Alfie say, "You're doing fine, move along." He can't hear him. Did this happen? Is this happening now? Lucy & Jonathan don't usually let Alfie in like that. Things blur, I wake up.

...You already know...

I see this guy standing up. Tshirt looks like a plaid pattern, mostly red. Can't see his head, just his chest & hand which is stretched out and holding a clear, transparent orb. Like he's showing it to me. All I see in it is trees. Tall, tall trees. The four in front are more defined. It's like I zoom into the orb, and I hear a voice say, "You need to see the wood for the trees." Or thru the trees? Whatever that expression is, they said it the right way. I hear birds chirping, then I wake up 

Yeah, WTF right?

I had a dream with a series of numbers written on a notebook lined sheet of paper. It was like I was seeing them how you'd see a magnifying glass go over them. I looked up the numbers, and it's to a Whole Foods in Pasadena, CA. 

...What the fuck?! Am I supposed to eat healthy now, Angels?! Is that what you're trying to tell me?! Thanks a lot. 

I wrote about Anna Nicole last night, so I think the person I was traipsing around with the other night was her. I catch flashes of these people from the side, and I knew she was tall, blonde, and perky. Voice kind of matched, too. We were in a car, she was driving, and I was asking her about her 'crazy days' in relation to mine. I won't post details, as I'm sure it's nobody's business but hers and she chose to share it with me, & it's particularly sensitive so I won't share... But we got out of the car and she was walking with me into a store. I asked her about being dead and I remember she said, "It's not so bad, you get used to it..."

Then, I woke up.

What in the fucking fuck?! 

I'm so lost a majority of the time, you have no idea. Unless it's Lucy, or Jonathan, or someone specifically saying something - I usually don't remember. I can't get clear details. I guess that's something I need to get better at. 

Anyways, some random stuff to share here with you. Maybe it helps someone else? It's sporadic, but I've been visited by some other people that may be of use to someone else?

There's a woman - older - maybe great grandmother? She's beautiful, mixed. Part white, part black. She's wearing a long touching the floor silk green skirt. White knitted afghan around her shoulders. Longer, braided/dreaded hair. Hasn't said anything. 

Woman, old... I mean OLD. Appears young, wearing 1800s clothes. Puffy shoulders, hair in a bun. Smiles. Tucked me into bed at night once. Didn't say anything.

Man, past. Cowboy, I think. Tall, slim. Has heavy steps. He's always in shadows, I think he knows he'll scare me if he shows himself. Thank god he hadn't, LOL. Cowboy hat. Seems to be a protector? Watched me sleep once. Said nothing.

Older man, I think a bleed-through from the table-guy-I-don't-know-tons-of-people dream. Grandfather figure. Something having to do with a living room and a small TV on a small TV stand. Very friendly, very personable. Not sure if I'm seeing him right, or it's the personality I attach to this image but he seems to have suspenders? Dark green? Bigger stomach, shorter dude. As far as guys go, I guess. Still taller than me. Said nothing except, "Hey kiddo.", just smiled.

That's all I can remember for now. Hope it helps someone? LOL I feel like if I was in the 1800s this may serve you all better.

Or, I'd just get locked up for witchery & put to death. Some dog would have to die from being forced to eat a cake laced with my pee.


Anyways, goodnight loves. Maybe I'll get something with more detail tonight! 


Monday, April 21, 2014

Anna Nicole: Baby, remember my name...

I remember when I saw this trailer, tears sprang to my eyes. I sank down to the floor, literally, and wept like a baby. 

Hard, powerful tears. Messy, filled with emotion. For the first time since my recovery, it hit me in a way it hadn't before... 

... "That was supposed to be me."

... "That should have been me."

... "That was supposed to be me."

Anna Nicole: Trailer

I've spoke a lot about my drugs, self injury... But what I haven't spoken about were my other - plans - I had, to make it to Hollywood. 

I've always wanted to be an actress. Period. That's it. My whole entire life. I remember I used to sit and cry in childhood - through my abuse - my struggles within myself and my self injury - and really tell myself, "This will never happen for me." It's like the saddest thing I can describe. The only thing I want in this entire world - the reason I was alive - my purpose - and it seemed impossible.

My parents have yelled and screamed every time I would scream and cry and tell them to move to California and help me. They'd scream, "We're not moving across the country for you and a stupid dream!"

They wouldn't help, no matter how many times I begged. Looking back, I'm honestly very thankful they didn't. I can only imagine what would have happened to me if I had been some famous celebrity, as I had wanted to be, when I was young. 

Anyways - I got my boobs super early. I'm talking, like, 9. No bullshit. It was fucking horrifying. I don't know how 9 year olds knew the words and phrases they'd scream at me. It was the worst stretch of time, elementary school, for me. Bullying was horrifying. 

The boys pushed bathroom stall doors open on me. The girls called me everything - slut, whore, prostitute - everything. There were bets made about me. I'd get shoved around, guys and girls alike would punch me in the boobs and say, "Why haven't they popped?!"

Elementary school.

...Elementary school.

So, then I live through that, on top of all the other shit. I had a real complex about my boobs, my body... I was called fat, worthless, everything. As I had said before, in middle school that all changed. I kicked ass and took names - effectively stopping the bullies. So on and so forth.

Still hated my body. 

By the time I was well into my alcoholism, I had evened out very well. Maybe 12-13 I slimmed down, got hips, ya know - more of a womanly figure. 

Drugs, alcohol, parties... I began stripping at parties. I thought it was fun. I always loved dancing, and hey! I can make some money doing it! I gave the most amazing lap dances. I would clear counter tops and give groups - men and women alike - table dances. 

I was really fucking good, too. There was one time, long story short, when I was 16. I was seeing/talking to a guy who was 38. No, he was never disrespectful. He was honestly just a really nice guy who I could talk to, hang out with, do grown up shit with, and never treated me like a child. I certainly didn't look like one. I started stripping at his house once and he got into a fist fight with a friend of his about 45 who said he'd pay me $200 to get naked. 

"Get the fuck out of my house, man! She's 16!"

I'm thankful for him. He treated me like a peer, but allowed me to be me. To make mistakes, learn, and grow. His house was a safe place. No creepy shit ever went on there, truthfully. We would, most often sit outside and have deep, intellectual conversations. Something I couldn't have with other people. 

I was never taken advantage of, and he protected me and all my other friends when we would party. He made me respect myself. Honestly, it wasn't until his fiancé found out about all the 16 year old girls who would come over all the time (we didn't know about her either) that the whole game was shut down.

I got really wild and crazy at all the other party houses I found.

So, as I'd gotten further into addiction - numbed by the drinks and drugs, not caring what I did - honestly, acting out more pain - I made an amazing plan for myself. At, I think, 15-16? Maybe 14? I figured out how I would get to Hollywood. How I'd become the actress I've always wanted to be. 

My plan to get to Hollywood was this: When I turned 18, start stripping. Get a job as a stripper at an amazing strip club. Work my way up, and become the best stripper I could be. Get photos done professionally for Playboy, and submit those. Keep stripping until I either A) Got a call from Hugh, or B) Made enough money to move to California. Once I, inevitably, got a call from Playboy, I'd do my spread. Hopefully get to Playmate Of the Month for April. Move into the mansion. Start asking for help on submissions to agents and stuff, maybe strip a little out there. Mingle, meet people, and get into movies that way!

Yes! Guaranteed in! I can dance, I was a trained dancer and have danced for years so that means stripping would be a cake walk. I have huge boobs, but I'm tiny, and have hips and ass - all natural. Playboy will love this! AND - I look like I should be in Playboy anyways with enough makeup and some curls in my hair! Boom!

...I shake my head at that now, but that was my real plan. 

I have so much Playboy merchandise, you don't even know. People would constantly buy me Playboy stuff. Jackets, purses, belts, necklaces. In a school photo I'm actually wearing a Playboy necklace! 

It was, sadly, the only way I saw into Hollywood. I didn't know what else to do. That 'way of life', I suppose, was all I knew. I wasn't confident in, at that time, anything other than my ability to use my body for whatever I wanted. I'd been forced to hear unnecessary commentary on my body my whole life. Aside from elementary school, it seemed to be a pretty big hit. 

When I was 15, I was in a resturant with my Mom and they read me the drink specials and a guy offered to buy me a shot. 15.

I would wear belly shirts, booty shorts, makeup - eyelashes, long designed nails. Long, highlighted hair. Tanned, tattooed (yes, at 16), pierced up... I was rebelling in every way, shape, and form. Had been, for about 5 years.

When I finally got sober, right before I turned 18 was when I was and had been 100% clean - I think it was something like 19 with self injury? I'm not one that keeps count, I find it to be a trigger. When I got sober, I thankfully did it before I was legal to do any of that crap. As I walked through my sobriety snd recovery, I realized what horrifying mistakes I could have made.

As I learned how to love myself, as I began respecting myself and my body - I realized how infantile and demeaning my plan had been. 

Here's some photograps for you lovely people. None of these pictures I remember, I just know I was fucked up:

Here, I was 15...

Here, I was 16...

Here, I was 17...

...God, I don't remember any of that. I just know I was completely gone. In every one. So sad, in a way, that I can't really remember remember anything. That's the way I wanted it, I guess.

Now, I look back and laugh. Been there, done that kinda thing. Really, it makes me sad. Sad for the girl I was, thought I had to be. Furthermore, sad for all the girls in Hollywood who ended up where they surely never wanted to be. 

I didn't know about Anna Nicole. I didn't even really know about Marilyn Monroe then. I had no idea what Anna had done, or been through. 

When I saw that trailer, it felt like my whole life whipped around and punched me in the face. I felt like I was watching my past. I felt like that could have been me.

What if I hadn't tried to kill myself, and decide to change, and get sober? Get clean? Recover? What if I didn't want to. What if I didn't work hard enough? What if I forgot everything I had worked so hard for?

In the snap of a finger, any moment I decided to, I could go back. I could use, I could dance... And I would be right where Anna was. That plan would fall into place all over again. 

I've met a couple girls here and there in California since I'd gotten sober and moved out there that made me sick to my stomach. It was, again, like I was looking at what I could have been. Sleeping around to get things, stripping for money, so on and so forth. So scary. So sad.

I don't give a flying fuck what any of those girls out there tell you... There are maybe, MAYBE, a handful of those girls who are actually just doing all of that shit because they actually choose to. Maybe. Small amount. Most of them are in pain, and they probably don't even realize it they're so numb to it all. Most of them have a broken little girl in there who never got taken care of. Most of them don't love themselves... And those women are the ones sick, disgusting men prey on. 

They're so broken, they don't even know.

I was so upset once, I considered porn. I figured that if I did all I could and couldn't be an actress - I told myself that if I didn't make it by the time I was 25, I'd go into porn. At least I'd have enough time there to be somebody - to be some kind of actress. It would be settling in the worst way, but I'd take that over feeling as tho I'd failed completely.

That, and you've gatta remember - drunk, on drugs, you're whole body sliced and diced... You're numb to everything. Which was how I wanted to keep it, because I knew I couldn't do a single bit of it if I was sober in any way, shape or form. 

I'm very, very happy to report that now I am 25, and I have obviously not taken that road! I am clean, sober, happy, and the polar opposite of the person I used to be. I feel so empowered, so in charge of my life it's insane. Very thankful and blessed that as hard a road as the one was that I went down... It held valuable lessons. I can't say I'd be the person I am today without it.

My growth/rebellion went like this:
* Infancy-Elementary School: Silence. Behaving. Not allowed to play, be loud. Only speak if spoken to type thing. Children are seen and not heard. Always had to look and act perfect, regardless what was going on at home.
* Middle School: Begin to disrespect, get loud, fight back, stand up - regardless what anyone thought about it. Violence started, so did the drinking & drugs. Abuse continued.
* Freshman-Junior Year: Full addict. Fully violent and rebellious. Arrested, booked, locked up. Parents gave up, kind of. 
*Senior Year-A little after graduation: Realize that I need sobriety, that I'm going nowhere fast. That everyone in my family practically has either been an addict or died from it. Over my suicide attempt, I search for myself and decide to completely change my life for the better.
* Then-Now: ....Learning, growth, appreciation. 

Kind of vague, but you get it.

Very, very thankful I woke up before I was of legal age to do any of that crap. You don't even know. 

God Bless Anna Nicole. My lord. I didn't really realize what my life could have been if I had chosen that road until I watched that movie. That's where I wanted to go, thats how I wanted to do it. Pills, drinks, stripping, sex - all mixed into Hollywood... That could have, very easily, been me. 

That scares me, even to this day, so deep to my core it isn't even funny. 

I know for a fact that Anna was so numb she barely knew what was going on. That, I kind of feel peacefully about. At least when she was being crazy, obviously. 

For those who don't know, I explain it like this: You know when you wake up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, but you're still asleep enough that you aren't sure if you're really on the toilet or you're peeing the bed? It's like that, only add being drunk - and add hyperactivity - and your favorite song on full blast - a room full of people - and a party atmosphere. 

Ice hits my stomach when I see that trailer. That song is perfect for it, too. Superb job on that choice. Even now, when I watch it - I have to swallow down tears. I feel like I know her, personally, in this life. Maybe it's because the struggle is so, so close to mine that they're just touching. Maybe it's because that's the life I made for myself, and lived for so long... I just hadn't transferred it over to Hollywood. 

Poor Anna. I've been asked in so many interviews what type of character/story I feel I'd do best with. It's that. That, is easy. It's what I was. It's still so real, but feels so far away. 

I sometimes wonder if I would be dead already, especially in this day an age, if I had continued down that road. I feel like I might be. I was up to a 5th + a pint at every party by the time I was 16... I could only imagine what I would have been dealing with now, at 25, had I not stopped when I did.

I remember, I would get a 5th of that Malibu stuff - the pink bottle - and drink the whole thing right from the 5th. Then, I'd get a pint of the Malibu Coconut, drink that right from the bottle. If I finished both of those before the night was over, then I'd move on to Corona's with TONS of lime. That's what I drank. Before you even question, NO! Do NOT try that at home! I drank alcohol then like I drink water now. It was dangerous, and no one even knew how serious it was. 

So, yeah, could only imagine. I popped Adderall like it was my job, too, so... I'm thankful to be alive. I really am.

That song in the trailer is how I felt, too, really. Now, thinking about it. If your soul could be playing a song - it would have been that specific version. That same one, the same way, when I was doing and planning all that stupid shit. 

Don't get it twisted, addictions and dependencies are those for a reason. I love pills. I really do. All of them, aspirin for god sakes... I miss it. I miss taking them. I miss crushing and snorting them. I miss the rattle of the pills in my Playboy tin I hid in my purse. I missed being able to pop one, or two, or three, or four... any time I wanted to, needed to.

I miss drinking. I miss hiding the small bottles of liquor in my purse. I miss mixing mixed drinks into water bottles, pouring it into pop cans. I miss being the life of every party I was ever at. I miss going through my days drink, all day, because I could. Because it was better than being sober. 

I miss parrying. I miss houses full of people I didn't know. Packed. Loud, vulgar music shaking the house. I miss the atmosphere. The randomness - depending on which door you opened, what part of the house you walked into - you could either join a fight, join an orgy, join a shower with 5 people you've never met, skinny dip with everyone else, take care of someone who was passed out, or buy virtually any drug you could ever imagine. 

I miss stripping, and dancing. It was fun for me, when I was all drugged up. I've always loved dancing, and the money alone would have become another addiction after some time. I was the best at it... It was like a big middle finger to everyone who made fun of me for it for so long. I was flaunting what everyone ridiculed me about. 

It's really horrible, how women behave and act when all we're constantly told is our worth lies in our bodies.

That's part of what pisses me off now. I still get random comments from people who don't know and don't know any better. It's like I'm still constantly overlooked for my brains, and only focused on for my body. 

It's like, because I have D's - and a waist - and an ass... I must not know what the fuck I'm talking about. Ever. Like any business that comes out of my mouth is null and void. People assume I talk like some valley girl, run around at the mall like a fool for brand names, and strip on the weekends. 

So thankful that I can say that isn't me. 

I've also read once, "Talented actresses don't have actual boobs." & "Big chested girls aren't cast in good stuff because the casting directors know the only thing people will be paying any attention to is their chest."


That discouraged me for awhile, too. I remember when I auditioned for 'The Lake Effect', I had made it past every audition. For the lead role, too! I made it to the very, very end. It was me and one other girl. I got a call from Tara, the director, and she had said something along the lines of, "...you were absolutely amazing, but you don't exactly look young enough..." 

She then offered me the role of 'local girl', and the lead spot I almost had went to Kay Panabaker. My part got cut, too. Boo. 

I remember being on set and looking at Kay for the scene we had together and thinking, 'My god, she does look young. Where are her boobs?' Then thinking how big mine were in comparison. Not that that was the hire or fire basis, just a conversation I had with myself in my head. I hope it was with myself in my head! It was a long time ago.

Anyways, that's my story for the evening. I was cleaning my closet and found my Playboy jacket from so long ago. That's what made me think about all this. I figured that it was something I haven't shared yet, so it's high time! 

Can't grow if you don't know, that's what I always say.

God, there's so much to go deeper into about it all - but on the surface, the scratch I've made here is deep enough for now. Maybe you will catch an interview over on Terror Troop with my buddy Boss Butcher sometime soon, LOL! (www.TerrorTroop.com) - It's where I usually end up talking out most of my stuff. Love Boss & his crew! 

I guess the summary to this - the message, is love yourself. You might think the drinks and drugs are fun, and they are - for that moment. You can't possibly understand the pain of addiction from one fun evening, no. 

I promise you - wobbling to your mirror, shaking all night long, crying and having to use/drink to survive is NOT the party you believe it to be. The hunger, the pain, the burning and desire to constantly crawl out of your skin isn't mentioned in those rap songs and shit, no. 

Stay clean, kids, and stay positive. Love yourself. Learn something from the mistakes I've made. Please. That's why I'm posting it. Not because it's cool, it's not. I hope you can learn a lesson from my pains, so you don't have to suffer through it yourselves. 

'Baby remember my name' 

God, I love that version of that song. Still just makes me think of the trailer then I want to cry.

RIP Anna. I hope to meet you sometime. I wish you could have lived with less pain and more happiness. I wish you could have been loved and respected, not used and peer pressured. Huge hugs to you, beautiful.

Anna Nicole Smith was a smart woman. Really. People don't understand that most addicts are some of the smartest (street/life smart) people around, if only they realized it. They're so marred and internally disfigured by pain they turn to drugs and other stuff. Anna was selling, all the time. She knew she was selling a hot blonde bimbo character most of the time, and she did.  

Did she have the best people around her? No. Did she depend on/allow certain people to do bad things? Yes. That's addiction. Being stuck, in pain, and not seeing any way out. Especially in Hollywood, my god. 

Hurting, pained, and looking for a way out every day. I'm so sorry you couldn't find recovery, Anna... And my lord god you were fucking stunning. Holy shit, she was a beautiful ass woman.

Anna Nicole Smith's last interview ever:

Anna Nicole Smith's autopsy report examined:

That really was almost me! I remember the night I mixed alcohol, Adderall and cough syrup - more cough syrup than I should. I remember lying in bed and not being able to move, to blink, to breathe. Not because I was paralyzed, but because it had literally made me - best example is too tired to breathe. Everything was heavy, and I had to use force and remind myself to breathe. I didn't understand what I had done, didn't until many years later. I was so exhausted and bored being up and raring to go all hours from the Adderall, I figured cough syrup would put me to sleep.

Boy was I right. Almost killed me. Thank God I didn't have an infection or sickness on top of it. 

I didn't even value my life back then. Oh, if I had only known then what I know now, ey?

Poor Anna. 

(Side note: How fucking GORGEOUS is the actress who played Anna in that movie?! Spitting image of Anna, too! My god she's FUCKING BEAUTIFUL. I can't get over her beauty, it's insane..)

Don't do drugs, kids... And stay in school.

The media doesn't help anyone now a days anyway, so just do you. Be original. Be smart, too. Get degrees, stay clean, don't try and grow up too fast. Please. 

Admitingly, one of the things on my bucket list is to go spend the night in the same room Anna passed away in. That would be interesting. Hopefully, she's found peace. If not, maybe I can help.

Enjoy life as it comes to you, relax, and let yourself love yourself. Even the parts you might not like so much.

Seriously tho, don't do drugs. I'm the 1% that made it out alive. Especially in this industry, it's no joke. I know many others, some even personal friends, who weren't that lucky. 

I mean, look at what happened to Anna. God rest her beautiful, pained soul.

Stay sober, and live your dreams clean...

...and keep your clothes on! Have respect for yourselves, ladies! I don't care if 'the men can do it' - let them be STD carrying manwhores! We're classy and beautiful. Don't do that to yourselves.

Believe me, I know how grateful I am that I wasn't in the age of camera phones and Facebook, or I'd be really fucking sorry. 

It's not cool, it's not becoming, it's not admirable. Don't do it.

Key? Love & respect yourselves. Please.


Saturday, April 19, 2014

LGAT/Cult... My personal experience...

I had the extreme misfortune of attending a recruitment session disguised as a 'seminar' and 'meet & greet' for what I know and believe to be a LGAT - or cult like institution.

Before I start, it's called Life, I believe. Go to www.The-Team.biz - DO NOT JOIN, just visit. Yeah, that's the company of fuckery I sat through for over an hour of brainwashing/recruitment crap. 

Before anyone gets offended or upset by my using of 'cult' & 'LGAT' (Large Group Awareness Training), this is my blog. Mine. Just my ramblings of personal thoughts, experiences, and situations. Everything in here is colored completely with my personal experiences. Is it accusatory? Yeah, sure, some of it. From my personal experience. It is some end-all-be-all? No. Just exercising my freedom of speech, which I've heard extends to thoughts and opinions. However blunt they may be. 

Just having a chat with you! Tis all! 

That, and people in cults get pretty touchy when you call their cult a cult...

...but seriously, with this entire blog being not only my personal opinions, thoughts, and commentary - but meant to uplift, inspire, & shine light on what I believe to be the truth about lots of things... My personal recommendation would be STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM SHIT LIKE THIS!

So, on with the story...

A friend of mine that I've worked with on several films is much younger than me. His Mom and I are pretty close, if I do say so myself. She's a single Mom, busting her ass to raise kids. Always struggling for money, not doubtful she's always looked for some kind of support system by way of people that know her struggle. That can uplift and inspire her.

Hmm. Already a good combination in someone they'll try and recruit. 

So, she joined with a friend of hers. 

She's out now, thank god, but at the time... She was hard core into this crap.

She knows what I do, what I am doing, and the pretty decent name I have as an actress/film professional in Michigan and around the independent scene. 

She called me one day and asked me to come with her to an 'inspirational business conference'. Well, shit, all the things I love! Inspiration. Business. Conferences - I like meeting people. Mingling with other inspirational business types. Love that!

I'll be pointing out the red flags I should have noticed along the way, just so you guys can get some idea of what these hook-line-sink'em type things are about. How from step 1 you can see through the bullshit. 

So she tells me to meet her somewhere. She insists she can drive us. Carpool. RED FLAG. "I can drive myself, it's okay." - "No, no, I insist! We can go together as a group! It'll be more fun!"

I agree. I meet her somewhere. She has me sit in the front, and her and her friend  begin lightly grilling me on my happiness and life issues. RED FLAG. They start talking about how the 'teachings', 'materials' & 'practices' of this 'family' of 'leaders' helped so many people, and got so many people together. Also, helps them make money... Somehow... That they won't answer.

I'm thankful for my intuition, because right then I knew that the Biography, History, A&E channels haven't led me wrong... I was about to see some crazy shit. The closer we got - I felt heavy, dark and sad. I knew it wasn't mine. I felt busy, anxious and nervous. Lots of people, lots of sadness and loss. Lots of life questions. Ye gods. 

What cults and LGATs thrive on is SILENTLY sad people. Quiet, meek, lonley people who have carried some kind of sadness and blamed life for their bad hands. People who aren't at all leaders, but people who have been - silently - wishing they were. That, and people who want a 'community'. People who quietly search for 'family' and 'friends' with whom they can share their pains and somehow have them all miraculously fixed by some outside source of people... Or teachings... Or whatever. 

They surely don't go after the type of person like me! The loud, outspoken, opinionated, driven, self-taught & self-reliant person. No. Why would they? They can't play me. 

Not only can't they play me, but I can take their 'materials', 'teaching meathods' and psychological 'facts' and turn them around - explain the true facts - and make them eat their words. I can empower someone in 20 minutes, for free, to take their own life and change it. Explain that they don't need anybody else. Give them the real tools they need, some safe references that I have used, and send them on their way to do their own thing positively. 

Stick that in your pipe and smoke it! 

...my friend really underestimated exactly how loud, outspoken and opinionated I can be. 

We get there and it's at some huge church/conference center. RED FLAG. The people are piling in my the dozens. Men, women, kids, elderly... All ages, all races, all sexual preferences. I mean DOZENS. You'd think there was a concert or something. My friend had talked in the car about the 'owner' of this 'organization' making a special appearance here for them. As we walked in, that's all I heard everyone talking about. RED FLAG. 

We go in, and see these women with complete vacancy behind their eyes smile eerily at us as my friend signs a paper at some sign-in table. I notice tons of merchandise and 'leadership material' on the other side. RED FLAG. This isn't some self-help type conference where different & legitiment self-help professionals were all independently speaking. No. This was all geared toward this one 'organization'. Their specific 'practices'. RED FLAG. 

If it was, for example, Oprah's Lifeclass Tour - and they offered different ways and different tools from different people... Whatever you felt worked for you... Books by Iyanla Vanzant, Bishop TD Jakes... Open ended questions to your personality, letting you and only you truly tailor your positive ideas... I could buy it. 

Not with this brainwashing/thought-conforming packaging I can't. 

One of these robots at the table stood up and shook my hand. "April! It's so nice to see you!"

...Uhm... What? 

"<insert friends name> told us all about you!"

The other fembot stands also, "You're the actress, aren't you?!"

Oh here we go... I can already smell the personal endorsement questions...  "Tell us your pains, let us tell you how to fix them, let us use your story in a book, talk about us everywhere you can! Use your work to market us!" Obviously they wouldn't say it so obviously. 

That was actually briefly mentioned to me later in the evening. "...imagine how many peoples lives you can change through your work spreading our message..."

SKEEERKKKK. Pump the brakes on that shit homie. 

My friend gabbed and gabbed in my favor. All the movies I've done, business ventures, traveling. It just got these people more and more interested. Before I know it, I really look around and I'm surrounded. Front, back, side to side with people. They all had weird smiles plastered on their faces, all clutching 'material' and 'teachings' of some kind. All praising me on the work I've done that they have/haven't seen. I believe the cult video I've posted here before calls that 'love bombing'. 

I duck out behind my friend and went to the bathroom to call my brother. Haha! Bitches! I'm just here because you want to recruit me, I'm not actually a part of this twisted facade of a 'company'. Sure, you tricked me into a carpool so I couldn't leave, but you haven't gotten my cell phone or my soul! 

"April, where are you?!"

"Bro, I'm at a cult meeting!"

He said nothing for a moment. "What?"

I'm whispering in a stall, peeing at the same time. TMI? You're welcome. 

"<friends name> said this was some inspirational business shit... It's a fucking LGAT/cult thing, man."

"Do you need me to come and get you?"

"No, no. Just letting you know. You should see these people!" So I went on. 

"Well, thank God you're not some broken person. Feel bad for them, April. They really think this is the best way of life."

"Yeah. I know."

"Go be the baddest bitch I know you can be! Don't drink the kool-aid!"

I didn't even take the water they offered me. 

I hung up, left, and caught one of the table-zombies leaving the bathroom. She sent a glare in my direction, and I instantly started doing the math from all my classes I'd insisted my parents put me in when I thought I was Buffy, the Vampre Slayer. 'Shit. Where am I? How many of them? Exits? Make-shift weapons? Make-shift exits? Windows? Walls are made out of what? Leaders? Do I spot minions? Full cell battery? Text people my location? Miles to last gas station...?' & so on.

You never know. I always opt to be overly prepared and overly (sanely) cautious instead of wishing I had planned appropriately. 

You never know.

Oh, and PS- this place was in the middle of nowhere. RED. FLAG. 

I come out of the bathroom and find my friend who is now talking to a group of people. All of them having to be more than twice my age. I'm beginning to think their assumed bonus of my being a part of this include 'young & stupid', not lacking 'impressionable'. 

I'm greeted, and I put myself completely in intuition mode. Not listening to words, but feeling signs and feelings. In a moment I realized that everyone is again circling me, and they're all talking to me in a tone of voice that is like they're sympathizing with me for some reason. An, 'Awwh, I'm so sorry' tone of voice the whole time. 

...Really? I'm not at a funeral or a hospital. I haven't been injured (so far), & I don't even have the body language of someone in distress. This is supposed to be inspirational? Wrong. That's 'teachings' at work. They're trying to talk to the 'shadows' in me. The hidden pains & troubles they assume I have. 

Nice try. 

"It's so nice of you to join us! Have you gotten the chance to listen to any of the audio books?"


"Oh. Well they've got some for sale you can pick up. Surely someone in your position with your career and such can use the amazing inspirational teachings of our group."

Nice try. 

"I'm good, thanks."

They all stop, and stare.

This one guy makes the fatal mistake of stepping too close to me, and backing me into the wall to intimately whisper some message of invitation. 

I sidestepped, eyed the sign-in table and calculated how long it would take me to get to it if I had to. "Back up, pal."

He put his hand on my shoulder. "This is a lovely place. You can make lots of money here, too."

Ah, so they sell happiness? Literally? Slick.

I eye my friend, whose protection I now assume responsibility for, now talking to another group of women a step or two away from me.

'She may be small, but she is fierce.'

"Seriously, back up. Last warning." 

Him and his comrades weren't phased by my 5'2" warning. They were, however, struck back to life as the hosts of this brainwashing session announced that it was about to begin. 

They practically ran inside for what I can only assume to be front row seats. I go to my friend, grab her by the arm and whisper, "What the fuck is this shit?"

She laughs, "It's good, April, I promise."

She's following her friend in, which means I now have to go in. I didn't feel any dangerous vibes telling me to run for the hills... But I did get a, "Be cautious & guarded." feeling. 

It's a large room. Rows upon rows of those tin type fold-out chairs. No windows, two doors. Thin fabric type walls. Three rows to the exit behind me - if I had to bolt that would be my exit seeing as how the exit in front of me was a good 15 rows deep and blocked by the stage and podium. 

I wasn't comfortable. I didn't feel safe. I did, however, feel completely in control. In a sea of pain, loneliness, depression, financial insecurities and hopelessness... I was the only one in complete and total control. Their openness to what became mindless and targeted selling tactics of happiness and life was sickening and disturbing. 

'Leaders', 'elders', 'founders', all stepped up to share their tales of life pain and financial struggle. All bullshit, all easily fixable. They left it all as a story with no answer. Just repetitive problems attached to stories, then the big 'how did you fix it' was still not answered... But they showed us these big posters and power points of what they called 'tools' that were really 'sales & marketing product points' to the mind numbing books, CDs & other 'tools' they sold everyone and assured it would all 'fix their life'. 

People came up and told rehersed stories of the doubts they had. Then the community they saw it offer. The change they saw in their life. The happiness they suddenly had. The money the tools offered them when sold to more sad, mindless people. 

Basically it is like this: They find sad, mindless, broken, people - tell them something is wrong with them, confirm how bad it is - get others to say their struggle is horrible. Sell them happiness - sell them the tapes, books, CDs. Then create a group/community around them so strong and 'cult like' they they won't leave. Tell them how much money they have made selling the happiness their 'leader' mass-produces. Tell them to sell it too. Repeat.

It was so interesting/alarming how I watched so many 'leaders' spin basic psychology and principles to self-fulfillment/happiness in directions that create dependence/optimum marketing potential. Never in my life have I seen anything like this up close! Always on TV/Documentaries! Mind blowing...

...& very scary. 

They took something as small as 'people who don't understand you', turned it all around to make it this big huge life-issue, promised to fix it all with their 'community' and merchandise. Then, told you in a roundabout way to go pick out more unhappy people, and sell them happiness/community that had been sold to you. 

All of the above has been brought to you by the RED FLAG association of America.

My apologies if I've rambled. I tend to ramble when I get passionate about something - or, there's an abundance of information.

So, I had this basically pinpointed by the time the gracious leaders gave us a break. I made a mad dash for the smoking area to take my break, and have some time with more normal people. (In a place like that, they tend to be the smokers)

I was, thankfully, by myself for awhile. Then comes a girl. Maybe late 20s, early 30s. 

"So you're the actress?"

"...What, did they pass out flyers?"

She laughs. "I'm new here. Are you?"

"Yep. I plan on keeping it that way."

"You know, I was homeless. Then, I met someone from this group and heard all the teachings and that I can make some money... I've never had it easy... I hope this is it for me."

Oh god, I hated this the most. This poor girl needed a safe plan and maybe an open ended journalistic self help book. A pep talk. A real friend. Not this bullshit. So she can, what, sink money she doesn't have into what they tell her will save her life?! No.

I took action. 

Oprah - you're welcome.

"Have you ever heard of Lifeclass?"

"No, I haven't."

I explained. "It's free, on TV. Oprah's network OWN. Check her website or use a computer from the library to find times. Hell, even use a library computer to watch some episodes and clips online. It's 100% free, let's you choose your outcome, gives you every tool they say they'll teach you here the right way, and legit ways to improve yourself which will lead to the money and everything else."

She looked shocked. "Really?"

"Yeah. Really. Don't buy into this if you don't have to."

"Well..." She put her cigarette out and moved to the doors. "...I've got some good friends in there. They all say I need to give this a shot."

So it's the community she's really in it for. 

"Lifeclass has an online community, too." 

She ignored that, but did smile and wish me an enjoyable time before saying, "Can't miss Oren."

Oren? Was that his name? Owen? Whoever the key holder is to this whole debacle. The head honcho. 

Sounds like a cult leaders name. Much more culty than Jim Jones. 

I stopped delaying the inevitable, also figuring it's safer with at least some eyes around me, and went in. I was met by more attempted brainwashing that tested my restraint. I wanted to stand up, raise my hand and argue with every single person until I saved the souls of every person in there. I didn't. For that, I was proud of me. 

There's also power in numbers... I was largely outnumbered. 

So then out comes this leader. 

I'm telling you, I felt like my purpose for being there was so I could report to the newspaper which I would be gainfully employed and type my soon-to-be favorably reviewed article titled, "Going undercover: LGATs/Cults 101". 

People gave this fool standing ovations, screamed, cheered... You would have thought Beyoncé stepped out onto the basketball court of a high school in Anywhere, USA.

He made some speech, and began telling people how he's a millionaire now because of this. How he has new family because of this. Blah blah. Yeah, because you're the one pulling the wool over the eyes of the ignorant! It was funny, he was telling people about how if they get to some kinda level in sales that he'll invite them to his home for a weekend - then he began detailing his mansion, his boats, cars... "You could be sitting on my boat, around my fireplace, with my people..."

1) You've clearly got a tiny penis. 
2) I'm certainly not fucking you...
3) ...No, a ride on your fancy boat/car/whatever still won't make me wanna fuck you.
4) I'll never be your friend. 
5) ...Seriously? 20+ minutes of detailing all your expensive shit. Really? Still? All I'm hearing is, "Men: This is what you should have. Feel like shit if you don't. Be my version of what I say a man should be. Ladies: I'll buy you anything then take you on my boat to fuck you in my mansion. By the way, I keep talking about the shit I own because when you fuck me I want you to remember all the money I have and not make fun of my tiny penis."
6) I don't even wanna know what goes on on these 'weekends'.

PS- Most all LGATs/Cults have 'weekend' type things. RED FLAG. You don't even wanna know the shit they do to people there. Sleep deprivation, brainwashing, guided meditations for the groups benefit, planting some 'mission' in your head... It's bad.

And mostly orgy-focused. 

No thanks. Ewe ewe and ewe.

After what feels like an eternity, the agony finally ends. This guy walks off like fucking Batman, and everyone won't shut up about getting photos and autographs with him.

...I'd rather get my picture with the creepy alcohol soaked Santa at the mall...

My friend got so geeked it wasn't even funny. She actually stood in line - there was a fucking line - for pictures with this cat. 

So she's standing in line, I bolt outside because I want to get away from these crazy people ASAFP.

Then, they find me. A group of, like, 5 men and their wives - some kids around my age with their parents, and the wives of some of the 'leaders'.

"April! How did you like it!"

"I don't think you want to know."

These folks have a real boundaries/personal bubble issue. They kept getting closer and closer to me. In a fucking circle. Me, again, in the middle. 

"Don't you believe in the power of positivity? Friendship? Family?"

I was done. Heeeeeeeres Johnny!

"Yeah, when it's not wrapped in a culty box."

Every single one of their faces fell. Some got angry. 

"This isn't a cult."

"Okay, a large group awareness training? Pyramid scheme? What do you prefer calling it?"

One of the wives turned on her heels and left. The kids moved away to chat amongst themselves. Only the middle aged men stayed to interrogate me. 

"I think you should take some of my material home to listen to."

"No, I'm good."

"Yeah, then we can meet up sometime this week and talk about his teachings."

RED FLAG. If you're at a legit self help/life/leadership type class, no follow ups are ever necessary. Tools are given for you to work within yourself, THATS THE WHOLE POINT TO A BETTER LIFE! It starts inside you! No follow up of dudes jerking other dudes off will ever change anything.

"No, I'm not taking the stuff."

He hands a book, CDs and something else to me. I hand it back. 

"I'm not taking this."

"Well give one CD a listen. When are you free next week? The group can work around you."

"Listen, I don't know if you're deaf or just stupid - but no means no. I said no. I don't want it. No. No. Am I clear? No. That means the opposite of yes. No, I want nothing to do with this cult. You can have it. Keep you're fucking materials homie."

This motherfucker didn't falter. Just smiled, and even as my friend walked up he smiled to her and said, "April wants to borrow your materials."

I announced Lifeclass to all these brainwashed douchebags, too. Closed with, "...so it's not a cult, that's how you tell the difference."

I think my Oprah pitch saved a couple women within earshot, thank god. Dudes? Nope. Still wouldn't accept.

"So let's exchange numbers and when you listen to them let me know!"

"No. I won't be listening to them, so, yeah." Then I just walked off.

Once we were all on our way back to my car I think of how my friend was coached to pitch me this event. Furthermore, I wondered how many people in there were pulled from already dangerous places like AA, NA, suicide wings at hospitals, abuse support groups... I really wondered. 

On the other hand, I could now say I have experienced a cult! I would honestly like to go on a weekend retreat in a really fucked up cult with a friend or two of mine who already knows what's up and feels the same way I do. One of those really deep brainwashing ones where they seperate sexes - do women's ones and men's ones. Which would be good because I'm not gay and I'm not into the orgys for cults when they mix sexes.  Make you reclaim your womanhood and own some mysterious pains... I'd make up some good shit. Most of the all men/all women ones are just about finding some pain and giving you some mission after they do everything in their power to make you gay. Usually a push toward fighting for gay rights. <insert shake of head> Like come on, haven't they fought for enough?! Now there's cults sneaking in and fucking it up, making it look like a joke?

I'd love to just quote random rap lyrics during some serious guided meditation. Haha. Good times. 

From what I've read, the men's ones would be more fun. They scream and yell at you, really try to push you to your 'limit'. Hilarious. Fear of women's power is usually where that comes from. I've read some insane posts on cult awareness websites and let me tell you, it's some funny shit. 

Some give you animal names. I'd want to be Big Brown Bear. I'd also only growl the duration of the brainwashing, then file a claim later that I was brainwashed into being a bear - then my brain stopped there. 

When they make you dance, I'd do the Carlton. Repetitively. I'd also tell some dramatic story about some beautiful thing, hopefully emphasizing how stupid it all was. "They told me I was pretty, and they really liked who I was as a human being and what I stood for. How horrible!" I'd smuggle a tear stick in and swab it on for instant tears. 


So anyways, that's my personal experience. Crazy right? Scary. I saw 'Jesus Camp' on Netflix a couple nights ago. So scary. That's defdinatelt a cult, legit. Very frightening that things like that and what I attended are out there. 

So stay away!!! Stay far, far away! 

I believe I have posted this before, but this is a honest summary of every single RED FLAG there is when it comes to cults/LGATs. If any of these happened to you, or are in your 'group'/'club'/'project'/'organization' - RUN!

How Cults Work:

Goodnight friends. XO


Tuesday, April 15, 2014

I'm young... Or, so I'm told...

One of my biggest problems, personally, is remembering that I'm only in my mid twenties. 

I'm trying to live my life on fast forward. I feel like there isn't enough time to do everything I want/need to do. That everything career related needs to be in super ultra fast forward, go go go... Or else I might miss it.

I'm a workaholic. I know this. Not because I have no life. Not because I can't do anything else. Because this is what I choose. 

...and I never feel like it's happening fast enough.

Like I'm 25, living with some kind of 50 year old woman's brain... Or, soul? I just can't learn enough, or make it all happen fast enough. 

I can't seem to learn as much as it want to. I can't seem to absorb as much information as I want to. There isn't even enough time in the day to do everything I want to do. 

Even if there was - that doesn't mean life would even give me the resources to do it all. 

Life. You slippery weasel. 

Life and it's lessons. 

There's a meaning for it all. Apparently. I know that. It's aggravating that I can't always see the meaning. The reason. 

Control freak? Yeah, kind of, I guess. Not in a bad way. Just in a, "Come on, Life! I've got all the tools! I don't? I'll get more! Whatever! I've got a fantastic foundation! Let me do work, son! Come on!"


Also, you can't rush business. That fucking blows. 

It's so irritating that films can take years to make. I never understood why before - I do now... And it sucks. 

I'm very impatient. I want to FF the whole process. 

...I feel like it all needs to happen now. Right now. 

I know my fear. My absolute biggest fear: I'll be sitting at the office, working. On a business call, talking to my crew about the delays related to business... And half way through the call... BOOM... I blink, and I'm 45. In the same office, having the same conversation. Still stuck.

I know I died in a past life not having done what I wanted to. Having silent dreams, or whatever, that weren't fulfilled. I also know I died being one of the most popular, historic figure. Knowing I've accomplished what I've wanted to, and knowing how that feels, too. 

Like now. I know that I know what most people don't. I have a vision, a real - legitiment plan - that no one else has. I have a way of absorbing information, of processing information, and creating new plans that no one else in this world does. Steve Jobs had it. Vince at WWE had it. Facebook & Twitter guys had it...

...Lucille Ball had it. Desi Arnaz had it. The people who crunched 'Gone With the Wind' had it... 

I have it, too. 

I'm extremely proud of myself for that. I am. It took me a very long time to love myself and appreciate, hell even see, in me what I'm the best at in my life. The skills I have that make me who I am, that make me an asset, that put me at the 'head of the class'. I'm so proud of myself for that. 

Jared & Kyle were the only other people who saw that in me. Jared would tell me all the time, "You're something else. I have no idea how you do that. I'd love to spend a day in your brain."

I know I have it. The thing about film is that it's 1,000,000,000% impossible to do absolutely everything myself. 

I can only do so many jobs. 

I would do absolutely every single one if I could... If I absolutely had to... But I'd like to stick to CEO'ing/Co-Owning/Executive Producing/Acting/Script writing. That is more than enough, because each of those branch off into another 49 things that go with that specific job title. 

Lots of the upper 'fancy titles' are basically putting together the jigsaw that is a movie. From start to finish. I take the pieces (crew, questions, jobs, story, etc) and move them to the correct spot. On top of everything else. 

I prefer to do that. I want to do all those jobs. That's why I'm alive, that's why I'm here, that's what I came to do.

When all of that is stamped 'HOLD' by Life - it gets upsetting, stressful, doubtful, painful. 

Extremely. Fucking. Irritating. 

I feel that the best way to fill my time would be shadowing The Queen herself, Oprah. Absorbing all the knowledge she has to offer, lessons she can teach me just by doing her day to day work. Or hell, even some other Harpo producers, be silent and follow them around the offices all day and learn. 

Or Tyler Perry. Follow him around, shadow him. Learn from him. 

They both created themselves in this industry. I want to absorb what genius they can provide. In a phone call, meeting, way they answer a question, ideas they have... Being me, and asking a million questions along the way. 

That would be the desired way to spend my time while life stamped my goals and dreams 'HOLD'.

...I had this huge thing typed after this about how much I love the character Dr. House on House, MD but my computer decided to shit and I didn't save that part of the draft. Allow me to summarize... 

House is amazing. Want to be friends with him. Wish he was a real person. Brilliantly real, honest, truthfully realistic & open character on TV. Mad respect for Dr. House. 

Some other shit about time and patience - very eloquent and relatable... Too tired, actually, to retype it. 


So, point? Oh, yeah.

I'm young, or so I'm told.