Six Years of this Crap!

I missed my six year Blogiversary.

FUCK.

All this nonsensical rambling started taking shape here on 2/16/07. Since then we have discussed (I have written to myself) a huge array of issues most of which concerned me and my ridiculous life.  That being the case, I figure I will take this very special Blogiversary post as an opportunity to update the Blogworld of my life happenings.

I started this blog at the elderly age of 23. I am now 29 and getting closer every minute to my OH GOD I’M THIRTY mental breakdown. It will happen. It will happen because I go into minor mental panic every year regarding where my life is and what I’m doing with it.  Mental breakdown Milestone is what is coming this June. Huzzah!

I started this blog newly single. Then I got back together with the guy (remember Casey?) within a few months. Last summer he got married and very soon he and his wife will be having a baby boy. Clearly a lot has happened in that time. Now I am dating my hot Italian lover who is weirdly private about his identity and we are already coming up on our one year mark. Holy shit, how did that happen so fast?

Exactly one month after starting the blog I developed epilepsy. Things have been fine for the most part. I haven’t had a seizure since, well, Wednesday, but usually it’s not very frequent. I remember less when it does happen which gives me slightly less trauma aftershock. That means I sob less and don’t stay up all night screaming at the ceiling anymore.

I started the blog when I was still in the evil advertising industry. I moved around quite a bit and now find myself stuck in the very slightly less evil real estate industry. Whatever, a paycheck is a paycheck damnit.

I moved to New York in October of 2001.  I went to school for performing arts crap. When I started this blog, I wasn’t doing anything in that field anymore. Nothing at all. Now, I’m in a cover band that PAYS me to sing! Now that I think about it, I've done various gigs all over the city. I am a member of an excellent theater company that is constantly producing impressive work. I should probably be proud of the fact that they even let me in! Outside of the company I just assistant directed a VDAY Production of The Vagina Monologues. It was definitely a worthwhile experience.

Looking over all that has changed, I feel pretty damn good!  February in general is a shitty month for me. I usually get terribly bad depression. I can tell this by reading my own blog.  This year, I seem to be doing alright.  It’s all okay. Just keep struggling along and do whatever you can to stay happy.  At least, that’s my advice for now. I also have a continuous feeling of doom and self-implosion caused by my lifetime belief that where there is happiness, suffering and pain are sure to follow.  Stay tuned! 

"Missed Opportunities"

Going through old photos and belongings while you're feeling a little down on yourself is pretty much a horrible idea. Somehow, every time I start trying to clean out a drawer or something it turns into a huge project that ends up pulling out old memories and things that never came to fruition. It's a painful process. I should learn to just toss everything into a fire so it can't haunt me ever again.

That being said, I did go through all my old business cards and found some "missed opportunities" that seem particularly amusing almost a decade later.

I have some very vague memories of how I received the three modeling cards from scouts in Manhattan. I don't think I ever pursued them at all. I must have assumed they weren't legit at the time. Maybe they weren't. I had a bad experience with what seemed to be a scheme in my hometown so I've always been cautious about scouts in general.

The blue card is my favorite. That moment I remember well. I was on tour in L.A. and we had only been there long enough for me to check into my hotel and walk to a fast food place for lunch. Some guy followed me back to my hotel room and walked right in my door. Granted, I left the door open because it was the middle of the day and my cast mates were in the pool right outside. The guy said he thought I would be perfect for his "company" and that he hoped I would get in contact with him. Then he handed me this waterproof (sex juice proof) card with a phone and pager number on it. I'm just glad he didn't kill me.

Talking to Myself

I'm sitting here in the dark, as often people do, thinking about everything I'm doing wrong. I'm not living up to , well, anything to be honest. I don't think it's the whole New Year resolution shit because I've had this feeling growing for awhile. It has been slowly creeping in on me and causing that wild range of emotions that finally hits total depression and then feeds on it for awhile. It's familiar.

I ended up here to write in an attempt to release some of the pressure from my mind. I suppose, I'm feeling very alone right now. I'm surrounded by people but nobody I can talk to. Perhaps I could talk to them. Yes, that's probably true. I suppose I do have people in my life that I could reach out to just to talk things through but I can't do that. Everyone has their load to bare, their life to live, and this is the time of year when things always seem to fall apart for everyone. I want to be a supporter, not a victim.

It's more than that though. I don't reach out because I'm aware I don't really want life advice or pity. I just want to be able to vocalize my worries without judgment or suggestions of what I should be doing to change things. I realize that is selfish. That is what a therapist is for. I should be paying someone for that. Well, I can't afford that luxury. I will just have to talk to myself for now.

I have decided to post this because it occurred to me that perhaps other people have felt this way as well. If that's true, you aren't alone.

Should Isn't Enough

We should have the right to bear arms.

We should have the right to protect ourselves from dangerous mentally ill people.

We should, as a society, make the effort to understand mental illness and help those in need.

We should have stricter laws regarding requirements for purchasing combat weapons and licenses.

We should not force teachers to keep weapons in a school for so many obvious reasons I can't believe I even had to type that.

We should force teachers to consider special counseling for students who have a difficult time socially.

We should make an effort to learn from our history and take steps to avoid repeating it.


I want to be able to defend myself against a serial killer coming after me but I don't see why I need an assault weapon for that. I don't see why any average citizen needs access to assault weapons. Adam Lanza's mother owned five different weapons she could have used to protect herself but that didn't stop her from getting shot in the face. What she really needed was help in treating her son. Clearly we are doing something wrong here as a society.

That's all I'm going to say on the subject and this is the only place I will be saying it.

Catching Up ... Again

I have so many thoughts to write and yet when I sit down to do it they all fly out of my head faster than I can catch them. I would like to pretend it would look like colorful butterflies flying out of my ear all beautiful and intriguing. If I’m being honest, I think it would actually transfer into visuals of locusts swarming with agitation out of my ears, eyes, nose, and mouth. Not very pretty.

Let’s backtrack on what has been happening, shall we?  Let’s see…. I slept all weekend because I’m constantly feeling ill. I did make it out Saturday night to meet the boyfriend and his father who was in town visiting. We had a lovely dinner and then stayed out until 5am singing karaoke. I know, right? I love the dad and the occasional reminder that boyfriend can sing.

Political things! I tried to avoid most of that shit this year. I must say, I spent election night in the most unusual way I could imagine. I voted right after work in crazy-long after-hurricane lines. Total madness.  Then I rushed to my lover’s apartment where he prepared the most amazing meal that anyone has ever made me. It was seriously mind blowing in every course and I ate until I couldn't possibly pack another morsel in. That’s the downfall of amazing food and being gluttonous.  It’s like any drug in that you feel euphoric until pain and discomfort takes over. Totally worth it. Anyway, after dinner we ran off to meet his friends for a birthday celebration in a fancy lounge overlooking Times Square. I sat there with all foreigners as we watched the CNN party below us and the projections of the election on the buildings surrounding us. It was incredible. ‘Twas a highly unusual experience. We had a damn good time (with the exception of the previously mentioned gluttony and pain.)

Before the election we had the hurricane. Maybe you heard about it? It sucked. It still sucks. My story is not interesting so I won’t bother to share it. All I can say is, a lot of people out here still need help. I hear a new devastating story every day. If you are capable of helping someone or contributing to a wish list please do.  The thing haunting me is that 200 rescued animals in shelters are going to be put to sleep soon if they don’t find homes.  I get nauseous just thinking about it.

I don’t want to end on that note. Uh….. Thanksgiving is coming! That means two days off from hell! Thinking about who I’m obligated to and what I really want to do gives me anxiety but I’ve decided to do whatever I really want to and enjoy myself for the holiday.  You should do that as well, right now. 

Tribute Post NYC

Thanks to Facebook I'm going to end up spending the whole day reading little blurbs about where people were and what they were doing when the planes hit the towers. It's emotionally draining. I think the one that hit me hardest today was from a friend who said nothing but posted a photo of his smiling father. His father, a firefighter, who died that day. That friend reached out to me just two days ago. He was more affectionate than usual and I knew why but I didn't say anything. I didn't know how.

I don't have a story for 9/11. My grandmother called to wake me up after the first plane hit. I was in Illinois. My friends started calling to see if I was okay. They didn't realize I wasn't supposed to move to New York for another month. It wasn't my city yet. It was my future that was attacked. Not me. Luckily my family, although somewhat terrified, still let me leave them and move here a month later. That's when I started to find out what people who were here watching it unfold went through. I've met people that lost family and friends. I've met people that were there working. Firefighters, cops, nurses, and volunteers. I can tell you, New Yorkers are strong. Damn strong. They pulled together and I'm proud to say after living here eleven years I'm now one of them. I take pride in this crazy city. I love this place.

At this point I'm going to repost what I wrote in 2008. It fully applies today in the exact same way. 

New York City is the greatest city in the world. It's a perfect mix of every type of person with contrasting opinions, religions, races, and dreams. You can find anything you want hidden somewhere in this tiny island no matter who you are or how crazy your ideas. There is beauty everywhere in every form and plenty of people to appreciate it. I love this place. When I feel the energy radiating from it I am filled with hope and I see infinite possibilities. This place is a part of me. An extension of myself in some form. I don't know how many people can understand that type of feeling but it is powerful. All I want to do on a day like today, a tragic anniversary, is express my love of this place. I will remember- and move on, because we have to.

Just... Blank.

People, Work, Opportunities, and Dreams. They all come and go throughout life. Unfortunately I personally have a huge fear of change. So much so that I keep myself from trying for higher goals. Perhaps it’s a fear of failure? Obviously it’s a fear of failure. No sense in denying it. I worry constantly about friendships and where I stand with people I haven’t seen in a while. I worry that if I don’t accept when an offer is extended that they will give up on me. I worry about that because I start to give up on people that turn down my invitations. Perhaps out of fear of rejection? We get older, our lives change, and we move in the different directions that are best for us as an individual. This separates us from the people and things we love in the now. I have a really hard time with this concept. My whole identity is wrapped up in the things I love now. Yet, when I start to think about my future, I can’t imagine one. I don’t see anything at all. Just…. Blank.

If I’m going to eventually lose or move past all that I have now but I have no future in site, what am I trying so hard for? Why do I bother at all? Everything seems like such a huge all-consuming waste of time. Why do I emotionally invest so much in something that won’t last? Clearly I’ve found my way back into depression. I’m scared of everything. I’m scared of what a waste it all is and what a waste I’ve become. If I listened to myself I would run away from it all. Yes, all of it. Even the things that seem solid and good, they don’t last so there is no use in setting yourself up for failure and rejection, right? No, that doesn’t make sense. Just wait for these feelings to pass. They will pass. They will pass.