Saturday, August 30, 2014

Fuckity Fuck-Fuck

I often wonder why I seem to be a beacon for death. 

It feels that way, anyways. 

*shrug*

Really. I wish I knew what the fuck was up with that shit.

I've had more death in my life that affected me personally, at 25, than my friends well into their 60s and 70s deal with.

I've seen two suicides. Two overdoses. An accident. An illness. Two cancers. A murder. 

The last time my Grandma almost died, I was the one who saved her. While all the other 'adults' (because regardless what I ever do, it's always the, "You're a child!" that's thrown my way) bickered with each other. 

I was the one asking questions, calling other hospitals and doctors, there 24/7 making sure the useless assholes who almost killed her did what I thought was appropriate. Not anyone else. Me. 

She lived. 

Everyone has since said about that hospital that, "Once you go in, you don't come out." 

It's true. 

So... She's in there. Again.

After being told to refuse to be taken there. After being told why, and what happened to her last time.

She went. Again. She let my uncle - the active pill popping addict - take her there.

I get the call, "Grandmas in the hospital. Again. Same one."

Last time she went in for a small surgery, and within days ended up on a respirator and they told us to call Hospice.

Yeah. 

Fucked up.

So I drive the hour to my parents house only to sit and be bombarded by ignorant and uneducated conclusions, and a group of 'adults' who have apparently since forgotten the magnitude to which this hospital fucked up before.

Of course they wouldn't.

Because I fixed it.

As I always do.

My Grandma has geriatric anorexia. Yep. That's a real thing.

She's 92lbs. She won't eat. She's accepting whatever the hospital says. 

Last time, the nurse kept giving her some pill. I asked what it was, she said, "I don't know."

"...Seriously?"

"Yep. No clue."

"Stop giving it to her. Now. Don't do it again."

They pumped her full of morphine, every day, 3 times a day, then told me she wasn't breathing right. No kidding. On morphine?! How odd!

Fucking idiots.

I have no strength in me to do it again. I can't fight against my parents, her kids, my cousins and siblings, and even her, to do it again. 

Everyone was there last time. I told her all about it. Everyone, in the end, didn't give me credit but agreed to never send her there again.

Now, suddenly, I'm the one telling everyone to transfer her - and call insurance companies - and blah blah. 

Totally ignored.

"You know what April, just shut up. You're not a doctor."

<stunned silence>

I can't battle all of that again.

Admitingly... I haven't even been to the hospital yet.

I don't wanna run into anyone. At all. I really don't. 

Only to be met with more bitching, and bitching to me about other people, or my parents, or their parents, or whatever. 

Can't. Don't. No thanks.

I'll probably make this YouTube video that  apparently I must make because I can't shake the feeling that I need to... Then go see her. 

Hopefully everyone will be gone. Hopefully she'll be asleep. That way, I can just climb into bed with her and take a nap.

Sounds like a fucking plan.

And probably cry, because no matter how angry her arrogant and mislead arguments are - how insistent she is on denying the truth, like they fucking suck, it's Grandma. 

She raised me. Literally. She's been the only person, really, to ever see me cry. She has been the only person who has ever held me when I cried, and asked her what to do. 

I remember when my Grandpa died, who was basically my Dad... I went to her, and bawled my eyes out. She held me, and told me she loved me and it would all get easier. I asked her, as I always do, to please not tell anyone I was crying. 

"You always hold everyone together, April. That's not healthy."

"I know, Grandma."

She laughed, "Who are you gonna come and spill your guts to when I'm gone?"

...

...

...

Fuck.

Well, I've lost everyone else! What's taking the last one?! 

The very last one. 

The woman who raised me, played with me, made me every meal, taught me how to cook, held me when I cried, let me cry, let me be angry and upset when I needed to... 

Ugh.

I feel like a 70 year old woman who is starting to go to all her friends funerals.

The only happy, positive memories I have of anything before addiction - of my childhood - have her in them. 

Fucking balls, man.



There she is. That's from a couple months ago, I think. Our 'every couple months we go to dinner and argue about who pays' outing. 

I hope she makes it out of this one this time. 

She was supposed to be my date to my first big movie premiere! So was my Grandpa. 

*sad sigh* 

They've seen the stuff I've done on DVDs, so... I don't know... 

I feel like this is a time for her kids to learn some life lessons. To finally ban together and figure shit out. 

I step in, again, I not only completely drain myself - again - and deal with everyone's bullshit - again... But I can rob them of this very important time to finally figure their shit out.

To have to figure it out.

When do you ever learn, or do work, when you don't have to? Especially life work.

...at the expense of a life, tho?

That's what I thought before. That's why I stepped up as firmly as I did.

...again?

Fuuuuckkkk.

I'm often completely and totally perplexed by people. 

Just sitting in a room full of fucktards in silence, watching them all move around - listening to the pure shit spew from their mouths... Shit that makes no sense, isn't tied to a useful thought or plan. 

Then saying one comment gets the whole room turned against you. Or, more often, my familiarity lies in being totally and completely ignored. 

Tomorrow, I may be blogging from the hospital. If I can't sleep, that is.

Who am I to bitch? Death, and all the things that remind one of it, gave me a break for - meh - two years? I think? 

Exhausted. 

Say a fucking prayer for all of us. 

Keep in mind this isn't some normal family, either.

We're all Italian.

Start watching the news. LOL!

No matter how many times I've been personally touched by death and loss - I am always reminded, every time, how precious every life is.

To cherish and love and respect everyone in your life. 

Go spend some time with an elderly friend, relative, or loved one, today.

In 3, 5, 8, 10 years - you may wish you had. 

Hugs and love. XO

Friday, August 29, 2014

Comedy ain't no joke.

Comedy has always came simply to me.

I've never gotten to explore it as an actress in the way Lucy wants me to. In the way I want to.

I remember when I was younger and I realized how I moved thru to being able to do comedy. I had to move in this direction:

- sadness/shyness/quietness
- deep anger/outspokenness/fuck your opinion
- recovery/happiness
- comedy

It didn't come to me until I moved thru all those things, which took about 20 years.

Life. What a bitch.

Really, it's about truly not giving a fuck anymore.

About absolutely ANYTHING.

Mainly, what people think of you.

If you do, you'll be stuck in, "I look like a fool."

Lucy told me that she wants me to do comedy, that I'm one of the ones who've 'got it'. That was one of the most meaningful things she's ever said to me.

Also, it's about being a quick study. 

I remember i had an audition once for a film where I had to sneeze in the audition. 

I was a 911 operator, and I sneezed like 6 times in the audition.

The casting director said to me, "Wow... Those were really convincing sneezes... I really thought you'd sneezed."

Little shit like that go further than how you'll ever say a line.

Another example...

...impressions. 

Kind of.

When I was in acting classes, my coach specifically gave me a scene from, 'I Love Lucy', and gave me Lucy's part.

I panicked. "I don't wanna do Lucy's part."

"You are."

"But it's Lucy! That's sacred! I can't touch her!"

My coach smiled, "Yes, you can."

I did it, and was shocked by the reviews and responses. Not because I did some new original take - but because I pulled that specific scene out of my memory and did it EXACTLY how she did. Mannerisms, voice, pauses... Everything. 

That actually was my coach's critique, "It was too exact."

I feel like anyone could give me any 'I Love Lucy' episode, and all they'd have to do is give me my marks. 

I could get everything exact. Down to the pauses, breaths and facial movements. 

With a couple more times watching it, of course.

Maybe it's because I have an additional connection to her, and I know it would be half my performance and half hers... But still.

Point is - mimicking. Doing something the exact same way.

Lucy said once to a group at UCLA, "You need to get out there and study everyone. Animals, old people, young people, clowns... How do they walk, talk..?"

It's that.

It's about being comfortable with your body.

Not caring how it moves, being free. Taking dance classes help, actually.

Lucy also told the class at UCLA, "Listen. Act. React."

That's the most basic, to the point, accurate way of telling people what acting is. That, for me, makes more sense than anything I've ever heard the years and years I've paid for tons and tons of classes and workshops.

It helps if you are someone who isn't comfortable with comedy, to have a great partner, like me <insert smile and *DING!*> to work with. 

That's the only thing I know that I know that I know I can do. Comedy. Physical comedy - Lucy comedy - or dry, scarcastic humor. 

Lucille Ball trained me. She's stamped me. Fuck you if you go against her judgement. 

<insert another smile, another *DING!*>

I really hope to have a scene partner or a co-star one day who isn't 100% with it. Or comfortable with it at all. 

I've always gravitated toward shy, quiet people anyways. Even in my personal life. Even the men I find attractive are the ones who are probably most intimidated by me. *shrug* I enjoy comfortably taking someone lovingly by the hand and walking them, in baby steps, out of their comfort zone.

That's fine if they don't want to, butcha know - it's pretty obvious when someone isn't really comfortable laughing and joking and joining life. When they're uncomfortable to really go there. 

Especially in film.

But... I'm a loud, outgoing, sometimes vulgar but always well-intentioned 'no fucks to give' chickita. 

Way before Robin Williams died, I watched his interview at The Actors Studio, I got it. Again. 

He gives 0 fucks.

He doesn't care at all about what anyone thinks. He's loud, outgoing and doesn't care. 

That's why he was so amazing.

Partially, anyways. He was a remarkable human being, too. But career wise... Didn't care.

I realized that I got way more callbacks, offers and positive feedback when I stopped caring. 

Didn't care if I said the wrong line, how I said it, what I did... Didn't care. 

Everything seemed to be better.

The friends that I have made, who I've worked with, who weren't comfortable with comedy or weren't really comfortable too much at all have told me they've felt they've done better working with me. Even the kids I've worked with, which always makes me feel good.

I just like helping people. Making them feel comfortable.

The first film I did where I felt that way and had finally 'got it all' was, 'Kill Me Again'. It's the last film I did, actually, before I started building the company I'm working on now as a CEO/EP. 





It was a horror short (feature had been intended - but - I can't make people do the work they're supposed to do), but the point is... Before I filmed that, I got it.

Everything before then, no. I was still nervous, anxious, uncomfortable, worried about how I looked and what I was doing, what others would think, what it would come out like... So on.

The other film, 'Kill For Her' has yet to be released. Our distribution date lapsed because, shocker, the director and production company owner never went to the meetings I set up. Didn't answer the phone calls, either.

Ugh.

It's so alarming how many people beg and plead for a chance - and when it's given to them, they just can't seem to do it. 

That was the last time I did that, and I walked away from producing their stuff after that. 

Anyways...

...relax.

I learned a lot from Jason Carter (from Babylon 5) also. I worked with him on a TV pilot for SciFy called, 'Pendragon'. 

(Is that how you spell SciFy? It seems like it forever changes. Or I never feel like I get it right...)

He always laughed, cracked jokes between each and every take. 

I was nervous because it was my first pilot... So I was locked in a shy/nervous mode the whole time. 

He hugged me and whispered, "You're doing amazing. Really, you're a great actress, and I never say that. Relax, and it'll be even better."

Later, I asked him how he always stayed so happy and positive. He told me, "You have to. You either care too much, or don't care at all but love it. It's easier on you if you pick the last one."





He told me, too, that it kept everyone happy and in good spirits. I've always been a big joker on set anyways, making sure people are happy and all that - but the nerves I never shook.

Especially on a pilot. LOL

Which fucking sucks, because when I look back on all the other shit I did - the only thing I felt even halfway confident in was 'The Hookup', because I could use comedy. Because I knew I could do comedy, and in that made all the other nerves that - at that time - wouldn't go away... Chill out a little.

But let it be said... This was, like, one of the first things I ever did. I was supposed to look crappy, and I'm forever being told I don't talk loud enough (which seems to be told to me all the damn time), but particularly in the later half of this - I felt like (and feel like I look like) I'm yelling. Just yelling. 

The last scene on the stairs was literally, like, 20+ takes. "April, you need to be louder." And louder, and louder... But Mike and Chris and everyone on the M1 team is fantastic. Really stand up guys. 

Fun Fact: The 48 Hr Film Challenge is when a group has 48 hours to get a theme or topic, write a script (including the required line or prop), shoot the film, edit it completely and turn it in. 

Really cool, actually. 

...I'm cringing inside, knowing you're about to watch it... 

'The Hookup'
(MI 48hr Film Festival)
* Winner: Best Buddy Film

But that was really it. Comedy, I'm comfortable with. Even at the basic bare bones of it. 

...and I kept asking everyone there questions about everything. Being pretty new and all. They were all very helpful. Especially Dawn, the woman who plays my friend in there. Very kind and helpful to me.

It really helps when you're working with good people. They don't have to be Oscar winning actors... No. Just outgoing, fun, comfortable, make you feel comfortable, can make you laugh people. It always works out well.

I like to try and make friends, personally. I enjoy other people. I've only found a couple good ones in the industry that I could keep, or made themselves as open and friendly and available as I do... But it worked. So, when you're friends and you hang out and talk and get close - it makes it even easier.

There was a scene in a film I did that I had to back out of because my Grandma went into the hospital, so my part had to be re-cast. I was making out with this guy whose wife was coming home. It was really comical, I'm sad I had to leave but - Grandma trumps work every time.

I was really fucking nervous, everything I've previously mentioned, but additionally - it was the first time I've ever even kissed anyone on film! Eek! All those people, the lights, on top of remembering lines, everything... Scary!

But...

...I knew he was nervous, too. 

And as nervous as I am, my outgoing qualities don't go away completely. 

I was poking him, ticking him, randomly hugging him. We talked and texted the couple days leading up to it. The day of, we both got to a place where he could yell out in a southern accent, "Come ova here, purty lady!" And I'd climb on his lap, say something in my southern accent, and he'd pretend to 'ravish me' on the couch. 

It was funny, and laughing, and joking.

Get there.

Too many people bottle it all up and sit clenching fists all nervous.

If you and I ever were in a film together - particularly a comedy - first, I'd hope you were cool people so we could be friends. Or else that would fucking suck. 

Buuutttt... I'd be banging at your door at midnight to play Uno. I'd be taking you to coffee. We'd drive around and listen to music, and I'd poke and tickle you until you sang along. Or I'd make you learn it. 

We'd hang out on set, do 'childish' stuff like stuffing our faces with food and talking - trying not to spit any out. I'd burp in your ear, surprise tackle-hug you... 

...yeah, I'm pretty awesome. I do all that shit with everyone anyways. That all comes with being my friend! Dah dah daaaaah! 

But when it's work, comedy, that's important.

With all of that done... What on earth would be thrown our way, written for us, that we couldn't high five each other and go, "Fuck yes. We got this shit!"

Nothing. 

You wouldn't hesitate to do something in a comfortable, instinctual place to make it even funnier.

So, yeah... That's... Whatever the fuck I was supposed to write?

I don't know. Whatever was supposed to be received by you, you got it, I'm sure.

I close by letting you know this...

Comedy ain't no joke.

<I was gonna put the link to a YouTube video with Lucy doing an awesome song and dance to a song, 'Comedy ain't no joke' but I can't find it!!! *whine whine whine*>

Go be a funny motherfucker! Have that be your goal today. BAM! See how simple?! 

Or just come hang out with me. I'll do a tap dance for you and everything! 

(Unless that shit is a surprise. Then I'm calling the cops, and using my CCW.)

Goodnight babes. Cuddle time, anyone?

XO

Thursday, August 28, 2014

Wasn't lookin' when I stumbled onto you, must've been fate...

We touch I feel a rush
We clutch it isn't much
But it's enough to make me wonder what's in store for us
It's lust, it's torturous
You must be a sorceress 
'cause you just
Did the impossible
Gained my trust 
don't play games it'll be dangerous
If you fuck me over
'Cause if I get burnt I'ma show you what it's like to hurt
'Cause I've been treated like dirt before you
And love is "evol"
Spell it backwards I'll show you

Nobody knows me I'm cold
Walk down this road all alone
It's no one's fault but my own
It's the path I've chosen to go
Frozen as snow I show no emotion whatsoever so
Don't ask me why I have no love for these motherfucking ho's
Bloodsucking succubuses, what the fuck is up with this?
I've tried in this department but 
I ain't had no luck with this
It sucks but it's 
exactly what I thought it would be
Like trying to start over
I got a hole in my heart, but some kind of emotional roller coaster
Something I won't go on 'til you toy with my emotions, so it's over
It's like an explosion every time I hold you, I wasn't joking when I told you
You take my breath away
You're a supernova... and I'm a

I'm a space bound rocket ship and your heart's the moon
And I'm aiming right at you
Right at you
Two hundred fifty thousand miles on a clear night in June
And I'm aiming right at you
Right at you
Right at you

I'll do whatever it takes
When I'm with you I get the shakes
My body aches when I ain't
With you I have zero strength
There's no limit on how far I would go
No boundaries, no lengths
Why do we say that until we get that person that we think's
Gonna be that one and then once we get 'em it's never the same?
You want them when they don't want you
Soon as they do feelings change
It's not a contest and I ain't on no conquest for no mate
I wasn't looking when I stumbled onto you 
must've been fate
But so much is at stake 
what the fuck does it take
Let's cut to the chase
'Fore a door shuts in your face
Promise me if I cave in and break and leave myself open
That I won't be making a mistake
Cause I'm a...

I'm a space bound rocket ship and your heart's the moon
And I'm aiming right at you
Right at you
Two hundred fifty thousand miles on a clear night in June
And I'm aiming right at you
Right at you
Right at you

So after a year and six months, 
it's no longer me that you want
But I love you so much it hurts
Never mistreated you once
I poured my heart out to you
Let down my guard swear to God
I'll blow my brains in your lap
Lay here and die in your arms
Drop to my knees and I'm pleading
I'm trying to stop you from leaving
You won't even listen so fuck it
I'm trying to stop you from breathing
I put both hands on your throat
I sit on top of you squeezing
'Til I snap your neck like a Popsicle stick
Ain't no possible reason I could think of to let you walk up out this house
And let you live
Tears stream down both of my cheeks
Then I let you go and just give
And before I put that gun to my temple
I told you this

[Gunshot]

And I would have did anything for you
To show you how much I adored you
But it's over now
It's too late to save our love
Just promise me you'll think of me every time you look up in the sky and see a star 'cause I'm a...

I'm a space bound rocket ship and your heart's the moon
And I'm aiming right at you
Right at you
Two hundred fifty thousand miles on a clear night in June

And I'm so lost without you

Without you

Without you

- Eminem


Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Insomnia, pt. 926?

Can't sleep.

Surprise, surprise.

On re-reading a couple of my blogs, being bogged down in grief and overall depression... I've gatta pick my ass back up again.

Something isn't right. I'm slipping. 

And that's a bad, bad thing.

Oddly enough, I inspired my damn self. Listening to the podcast I did with Boss over at Terror Troop (www.TerrorTroop.com) for Kyle's birthday really helped me! LOL 

I can't say I've ever inspired myself before. That's a new one.

So... I sit.

I haven't smoked much over the last week. One pack lasted a little over a week. Tonight - well, nothing to do = do something. Which equals smoke a lot. 

And listen to music.

And ponder life.

Which is also bad, but I won't do it.

No more thinking. That's my new thing.

Always have to remind myself to stay in positivity. It's hard but it's slowly getting back there. 

My cat Luna just crawled onto my chest a bit ago. We snuggled, I had a long head-conversation with my angels and spirit guides. I feel the shift already.

...and I'm going to be seeing a couple medium friends.

Cheaper than a therapist, and you get way way more from it. 

Only the good ones, tho! Michigan has quite afew, actually.

I feel like spirit needs to say something to me tonight, so I'll wrap it up. 

I'm finally getting signs from Robin Williams! I've discovered his sign for me is anything Popeye. I've never seen it, so I should watch it, but that's the sign I keep getting. 

I never ever see that cartoon. Ever. 

Seen one on the back of a truck for the first time, and the random thought out of nowhere (which is always a message or intuition) said, "Robin Williams." 

I thought, "...the fuck?"

I keep seeing that shit EVERYWHERE. 

I really wonder what he's got to say, if anything. Maybe my messages will come. I know Lucy and Jonathan already let him in, so it's just me meeting them there.

Which I shall try and do tonight. 

Not really body or emotionally tired, just head tired. Which is good for that. Just turning the lights and TV and phone off and laying there - waiting. 

That's when I hear random shit or feel/see random shit.

Starting my dream journal up again, so I hopefully get back to remembering all this crap.

Hopefully some messages tonight, some inspirational guidance. Maybe helping Boss with some things tomorrow - who knows!

Happiness. Inspiration. 

Another war has (for now) been won. 


XO

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

PMP.

I always say that as an actor, I feel like I manage multiple personalities. Professionally. I like to call it, PMP. 

Which is true.

I can rap a man's verse in the nastiest rap song just as convincingly as I can get all doe-eyed and tell you I love you and snuggle on you - making the former seem impossible.

Then again, I used to be able to drink any man under the table and convince everyone around me I was a-ok! 

I can twerk, I can ballroom dance. I can sleep for days or go sleepless for days. 

I can pummel someone with a scary amount of violent passion, then soften completely and delicatly take care of any child.

I think everyone has that in them, really.

All the different sides and angles, everyone has them. Even at 1%. There's so many different pieces to everyone that make up who they are.

Depending on the way they're approached, the person they're with, the situation they're in... Can always change. Or, adapt. However is necessary.

People don't take that into much consideration anymore, really. It's odd. 

Everyone expects someone to be one way, all the time. Forever. That's how they are, they'll never change. 

God forbid they get angry - or cry - or they get snuggly - or sexual - or don't want to do anything at all... 

It's human. 

So, with that contemplation, I've included a small list below of all the multiple personalities or personality traits that live inside me. All the things that make up April, the human being. 

Some, maybe .05%, some can switch and replace another - depending. Some at 1,000% at times, other times gone completely. Some together, 50-50... You get it.

So, if you picked me and my humanness apart, what would you find...? 

- actor
- writer
- cinematographer
- director 
- editor
- therapist
- counselor
- mom
- sister 
- friend 
aggressive man
- weepy child
- drug addict
- alcoholic 
- porn star 
- crazy woman featured on 'Hoarders'
- young child
- elderly woman
- rapper
- singer
- all around nerd
- artist 
- poet
- dangerous incarcerated inmate
- murderer 
- innocent and sweet girl next door
- girl your parents warned you about
- lawyer
- cop
- animal activist
- goth kid
- preppy jock
- super mean and relentless bully
- video game/comic nerd
- lover
- fighter
- weapons expert
- UFC fighter
- 1940s-1950s film expert
- pinup model
- bum
- ratchet ghetto bitch
- shy, quiet outcast
- couch potatoe
- energizer bunny
- classy, elegant lady 
- loud, classless fool
- gay
- asexual
- loner
- social butterfly 
- hopeless romantic
- suicidal basket case
- idiot who thinks everyone is inherently good
- paranoid of everything & everyone
- reckless 
- careless
- too careful
- constantly anxious and nervous 
- forever tired and exhausted 
- clairvoyant 
- clairaudience 
- psychic 
- life coach
- healer 
- cat whisperer 
- worlds greatest babysitter 
- drivers training instructor 
- bodyguard 
- stand up comic
- CEO
- executive 
- business owner 
- stripper
- bookworm
- flashy, expensive escort
- cheap, trashy, drug addicted prostitute 
- film critic 
- virginal, shy, 'prude'
- dancer 
- event planner
- IT solutions expert 
- publicist 
- agent
- manager 
- financial planner 
- 9 year old boy that thinks burping and farting anywhere is acceptable & hilarious
- any leading woman in a Nicholas Sparks novel
- race car driver
- bipolar
- pervert
- super, super inappropriate 
- slob
- neat freak
- OCD
- ADD
- over eater
- anorexic
- level headed 
- irrational 

... & so much more.

It's always bothered me when men say, "I just don't understand women. They're so complicated.."

As is every human being that has ever existed.

What one women wants and likes isn't the same as another. What one woman believes and practices isn't what another does. So on and so forth. 

It's getting to know one human being. Figure them out as an individual. What makes them happy, sad, angry... So on.

There are a million different facets to any given human being. No one can be labled, defined, or 'normal'. 

They just are who they are. 

Whatever that happens to be that day. That moment. 

Everyone I know now is shocked to hear some of my personal tales. They can't believe it. 

But hey - everyone has tons of different parts to them. 

Kind of like phases one goes thru in life. Only, they all live inside you. They come and go. 

BAM! Random fucking blog, complete. 

Professional multiple personalities? Check! 

...Idk...

There are a million things about life that just have to be accepted.

Even when you don't understand them.

I don't really understand some things that happened to me over Kyle's birthday weekend, or now, or with my gift - so please, buckle up and try to take a ride thru this shit with me.

I don't even know what I'm about to say. Or if it'll even make any sense. I just know I gatta say something... 

...hopefully the something falls in line... 

Robin Williams came thru. Twice. Dreams, both times. First time he just stood off in a corner. When I caught him, he waved. Still silent.

Next, I saw this beautiful hill with a really expensive looking sports car racing to the top - where I was standing. Robin Williams pops out of the drivers side, smile as wide as ever. He closes the door with a loud 'thwam' noise and walks over to me.

He took my arms and looked me straight on. Smiling, but serious. "Don't be so eager to get your life started that you miss it all. Take a deep breath, slow down, and enjoy it. Every moment. Don't let anything pass you by."

I had to have Ashley remind me of that one. Often times I'll spew my dream to whoever happens to be there with me when it happens so I don't forget it. 

I'm not sure what happened at that Equator resturant in Old Pasadena, or if something or someone was in there I was supposed to connect with? I don't know. All I know is from the alley to the other side of that resturant - there were fucking hyenas in my stomach. Just between those spaces. A step further on either side - goes away.

I peeked inside and walked in front of it like 40 times - fucking psychopath is what I looked like. 

Someone either died there, or... Idk...

I don't understand why I get 'crowd hangovers'. Everyone's energy makes me feel like I just ran a fucking triathlon in the god damn 137 degree jungles. Exhausted. 

Dead person poked me. That's all I got there.

I try to be optimistic about as many things as I can. I do. It's hard, but I'm trying.

I've recently accepted that my life may not be as magical as I've always wanted it to be. As hard as I've fought and worked... I am doomed to be alone, and stuck in a cycle of work that never pays off in the ways I want it to.

I'm trying to accept that in a positive, "It's whatever the universe says, goes." Way. 

Eh. I'll let'cha know when I'm there.

I'm in a constant long-term-recovery. I took a fucking Advil today and I had to have someone spot me. I've been going thru a pretty intense, "I'd like to cut a lot today, please." phase. 

I just today after reading the amazing Kristen Johnston's 'Guts' on the plane home realized where my suspicious acid reflux came from when I was in my addiction. Always wondered what that was about. Nexium never worked! No wonder! 13 year old me wasn't about to tell my doctor shit!

Finding things to continue for keep getting harder and harder. I'm not going anywhere, I'll never try to kill myself ever again. But, to be honest... It's not always because I don't want to.

I'd like, more than anything, on 6 out of 10 days to end it. Just be done. Not even because I'm sad all the time, but because I'm tired of the same fucking shit all the god damn time. It's... Just, a lot.

But... I can't.

I can't.

If I didn't have parents, or family, or people so close I consider them family... May be a different story. 

I've seen what suicide does to families. Friends. The pain. I couldn't do that. At the very least, to my Mom.

I just want my career and my work, at the very fucking least. I can take that and spin it 4,000 ways - not being some drone slave to an agent or manager, either. I can turn a $400,000 budget into a $4.5M ROI... I just need that one chance.

I need to re-read and edit+extend all of Kyle's scripts. I don't trust myself to do them, tho. I actually had a random thought to get that kid who wrote 'Stoker' to edit all Kyle's stuff when it comes time to do those. He's the only person that I think would get Kyle's stuff. Hey, intuition says it - I'll do it!

I gatta get my shit together & learn a thing or two about people who haven't been dead for the last 30+ years. Find out who I can work with, when I'm in the position to have anyone want to.

Well, anyone that's already got a warped idea of who they're allowed to associate with and shit... Ya know... I'll be 'somebody'.

Whatever the fuck that means.

Confession: I am a control freak. 

I continually have a very difficult time sitting and doing nothing. Well, it feels like nothing... I always want the next step to unfold, so I can get a fucking move on already.

But... I also have to understand, and have been told several times, that I am not one with goals that really follow anything else. I'm not someone with a goal or task or mission that can even necessarily feel like there's tangible steps being made in the process. 

I feel like I was ushered thru this insanely complicated obstacle course in life - handed a fuck load of helpful cheat sheets from interesting people who were hiding in the bushes along the way - and now I'm sitting in the waiting room, all alone, no books to read - no people to talk to - no TV or phone - waiting for the rest of the people who were said to be on my team to finish, and come meet up with me. 

And there's some douchebag in a suit, who is very attractive, behind a glass door, in a window display - displaying in the most beautiful way - the best alcoholic beverages, pills & razor blades. 

Oh, and this douchebag keeps reminding me that the key to get into this beautiful room is hanging right next to the door. Lit by a bright ass neon light that I couldn't miss if I tried. 

There's random voices that keep telling me random shit over some kind of speaker system that are like riddles that I don't fucking understand. 

Sometimes random people will show up for a couple seconds or minutes here and there to tell me random shit that makes no sense. 

A random picture with random images will appear for a moment or two, also, between all my foot tapping boredom. With, yes, more shit I don't understand.

Or has, from what I can gather right now, nothing to do with me. 

There's another door that basically blends into the wall that goes to a totally different group of people. Totally different place or meaning in life - they just don't really fit with anything I know I'm here for. 

When douchebag is making the beautiful addictive selection way too tempting, I can go talk to them. Only for a little bit. It's not like we even have much to talk about, anyways. There's only maybe two or three people there at any given time, and we don't have many common interests. 

So, I sit by myself in this fucking room. Every so often, this new magical door will open and someone will rattle off a time I'll be allowed to move on to the next phase. I'd prefer not to be alone, again, as I already have been for the first 25 years of the course, but that's what it's looking like.

This someone keeps telling me new times I will be able to move thru, but they haven't actually let me move on yet. Frustrated. 

Sometimes I can go back to the obstacle course and watch all the other people, of all ages, still running the course I finished. I can't do back and do it all over again, not unless I take Mr. Window Douchebag up on all his fancy offers... And I really don't wanna go thru it all again. 

But - I see other people. And I keep seeing where they're messing up. Over, and over, and over again. 

I've went back in on the 'phone-a-friend' system when someone asks me, or implies an ask in my direction for help. Or, when I feel so bad I can't stand there and watch them drown. 

Buuuutttt, every fucking time, they've been those assholes they warn you about - the ones who freak out and pull you down, too. Not to mention they've almost taken me with them, they bitch the whole time about how my grabbing and pulling them hurts. Or to not touch their hair. Or they want to wait for someone else to help them, when they'll be dead by then.

So after a thousand times of that, I've given up and just sit in this boring ass room. 

Silent. By myself. Waiting.

The people I knew back out there, the ones I knew were on my team and were coming to keep me company are dead.

I don't know anyone else. So, literally, all by mahself.

And I'm not pretty, either. I look like I've had my ass kicked a couple times, really good. Or, that's how I feel anyways.

The only hints I have at who the fuck is on their way to me on my team are more weird ass cryptic shits. Like my apparently constantly lost and confused husband(soul mate) - or this magical career that I'm told is guaranteed but seems completely fabricated. 

Did everyone else get sidetracked? 

Am I sidetracked?

No, this isn't some, "I'm 25 and questioning the meaning of life." I did all that when I was 16. I'm just looking for the other people who should be where I'm at right now. 

And the fact that I'm still sitting here is confusing, and alarming. 

And I REALLY want to party with this douchebag. Maybe that'll get him to shut the fuck up.

Is everyone else whose supposed to be on my team and meet me here as insanely tired and bored and lost and upset and depressed and insightfully aware that something is supposed to happen but they can't figure it out, either,  as I am?  

I wanna rip my hair out.

Here's just a little from my last reading with my medium friend:


Slow down. 

Slow down.

Breathe, and slow down.

That is ALWAYS what is told to me.

That my energy is INSANE, and I've gatta slow down.

I'm sitting here with all the books and other handy dandy reading materials to tell me how to get what I'm working for, and I've even been here so long that I've came up with my own - better - more improved, fail-safe versions. 

Just waiting for everyone else.

Because film is a team thing. Can't do it with only 1.

The room gets darker and darker as the time goes by. 

*frustrated sigh*

I mean, I think my desires are fairly simple ones. 

...Okay, maybe not so simple. But hey, life blows when it's all easy, right?

I have a feeling the people on my team might not even know they have a team to be on. Or they may even be heading toward the wrong one.

They don't know they are, tho. Probably not. 

I can't get to everyone, and they don't have the tools to find me.

We're all stuck.

At least, that's what it feels like.

I don't understand. 


I'm trying so hard to find reasons to not go and kick it with Mr. Window Douchebag. 

I'm trying so hard to find meaning in the bullshit in betweens. 

I'm trying so hard to find something positive in the space of midnights, with no one to call and nothing left to work on.

When it's 3am and I want to do something creative, and I need another human being - another ear - and I don't have one.

When I have to answer the, "How are you?" With smiles and some nice answer, making sure to throw in something to maybe make them laugh. Or another question for them so they stop their questions for me.

If they even had anything beyond the basics. 

I'm sick of never finding or befriending anyone who seems to really click with me. 

How come it's easy for me to be able to look at absolutely anyone - even for a minute - and tell if something is wrong. Even if I don't say it. 

But even my friends - the people I do call out and ask about what I see/feel - can't do the same with me. 

Only one person could ever get me. 

Then, I miss Kyle.

Maybe I'm just that good at hiding everything. 

Not so much sadness, really. Just tiredness. 

I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Something's gatta give already.

I just have to trust the process.


By the way, there should be an article published that I wrote for Flurt magazine sometime soon. It's a review of the film 'Girl 27'.

*throws confetti very un-enthusiastically*

Oh, joy.

No, no that's not right. I need to remember that even the small steps are still steps.

That's really, really hard at the end of the day. 

When goals and visions are so fucking huge, that's hard.

I shall keep trying.

Don't have any other options.  

Biggest problem of them all?

I am ALWAYS the one everyone comes to with questions. 

Everyone brings me the, "What do I do?", or, "So, what now?", or, "How do I do this?"

And I fix it.

I always know what to do.

I always have some way they can work it out. Some answer to the problems.

Right now?

...I don't know. 

I don't have any more answers right now. 

Not only is that deeply terrifying... It's void of any and all emotions. Like a gaping hole in my spirit. 

That's what Mr. Window Douchebag knows gets him a win.

And this is where I call up the motherfucking Queen, and hope she has a couple more rounds of fight left in her.

*sigh*

I guess we'll see, ey?

...idk...