New Chapter

This will be my last post from the Room of Requirement. That's what I call my studio.It's bittersweet. This was my first time living alone, no roommates. It was nice, but also made it entirely too easy to isolate myself. This is where I found out how truly evil some human beings can be, but it's also where I found out how incredibly kind and understanding complete strangers can be. Most importantly, this is where I learned that you shouldn't walk around naked when your blinds are open.
^_^

A Second Wind

I'm still trying to get used to my new life. Everything's new. Nothing, except for 2 of the cats, is the same.
I miss going to school. I miss...everything. Sometimes it's easy to get so caught up in missing things and people, that I fail to realize what's in front of me. I was starting to feel defeated, like maybe this acting/modeling thing was just a pipe dream doomed to fail and maybe I threw everything else I ever loved away for nothing. I haven't been this poor since my freshman year of college. I was applying to normal, 9-5, soul-sucking jobs again. I was losing faith...
It always seems to go like this with acting though. Just when you think your passion is going to bankrupt you, opportunity knocks at the door.
Now I have an audition tomorrow. I have a photoshoot this weekend. There will be talent scouts at said photoshoot.
Maybe it's not a lot to most people, but it is to me. You don't have to be famous to act for a living. Everyone has to start somewhere.
It's getting a lot better, but I had been so sad... so I agreed to start anti-depressants again. Unfortunately, they did not react in a good way. They made everything worse. I felt like giving up. It exaggerated any negative thoughts I was having. If you or someone you know suffers from depression and needs meds, it's important to note that sometimes they do make things worse. Luckily I was warned, and luckily I made peace with my brother and we're friends again. He noticed. Sometimes all you need is for someone to notice. It was a rough patch, and I'm getting out of it. Everyone has to get out of it on their own, to some degree. I feel like I have a lot of reasons to be sad, but sometimes there really is no reason. I hope it's situational, and not something I'll have to deal with forever. I was a very happy kid, and a very happy teen, and I just want to get back there again. The Bloggess  taught me that depression lies. Sometimes she writes very candidly about her struggle, and she offers encouragement. It's a hard thing to do. Being candid on the internet is a scary thing. People can use it against you. People can judge you for it. The Bloggess puts it all out there anyways, and I love her for that.
So, since I'm on the other side of the dark fog now, maybe I can offer encouragement for someone else.
What works for me when I'm so sad and every little thing seems so overwhelming and I feel like a failure is...my wanderlust.
I think of the places I haven't been. I step out of myself and try to see a bigger picture. I think of the history of this planet, and all the landmarks I want to touch with my own hands. I think of how foreign air smells. I remember how I felt on my honeymoon at the Mayan pyramids. I remember my walks around Alster Lake in Hamburg. I picture myself on the ocean, floating on my back. Just floating. Many people might not know this, but I was a beach baby. My parents had a timeshare in San Carlos, and we were there every year, without fail, for my birthday (until Alexa was born). Of course I would also tag along any time anyone else in the family went to Guaymas or San Carlos. So it helps me to remember the salty smell, the sound of the waves crashing on rocks. I remember that time when I was left unsupervised at a new beach. It was really clean and I had those goggles that covered my nose so I could swim underwater like a mermaid. I swam out, squirming my way on the seafloor, when suddenly there was a steep drop. I came up for air and down I went again to explore. I could feel this cold, cold current coming from this steep, dark drop. I went down as far as I could. Obviously that situation could have ended badly, but something scared me and I came back up. As I did, I thought to myself "I'll be back when I'm bigger. I need to know what's down there."
I guess...that. I need to know. I need to know what's out there in the world. I need to know what's on the bottom of the ocean. I need to know what's under the polar caps on Mars. I need to know what else is lurking in the rainforests. I need to know how my story ends.
Curiosity might kill me one day, but it's the only thing saving me right now.

Raison d'etre

All the world's a stage, the men and women merely players.

There's no relevant reason for me to write that, I just love quoting Shakespeare. A wise man told me yesterday that the things coming out of my mouth, shouldn't be coming out of my mouth. I think he fell in love with my mind, not my looks. That's what I want in life. Even on the days when I feel pretty, (so...the days when I don't think that everyone that tells me I'm beautiful is just part of some horribly elaborate prank) I am an intelligent woman and that's what I want to attract attention for. Not only that, I have this treasure trove of life experiences. Way too many for a 22 year old. Life is about discussing life. It's about discussing what's out there, the possibilities available now to humanity, different perspectives and ideologies, and getting out there and experiencing it. We are the universe trying to know itself.

Today I felt like killing myself. I am not publishing this post. This is for me.
I have it all planned out if I do...but...something...something stops me. Sad to say, it's never a person. No. No one really cares. No one would be worse off without me. Better, yeah, undoubtedly, but not worse. Everyone else knows how to cope with shit. Everyone else is just better at life than me, so they'd get over it in the blink of an eye. I mean...there wouldn't even be anything to get over. Just another idiot girl out of this world. An idiot girl that nobody knows. A stranger. You don't feel sad when a stranger dies, right, so why would I be an exception? I wouldn't.

So, what stops me? I think it's the wanderlust. I think of the places I haven't been. I think of the history of this planet, and all the landmarks I want to touch with my own hands. I think of how foreign air smells. I remember how I felt on my honeymoon. I picture myself on the ocean, floating on my back. Just floating. I was a beach baby. We were always at the beach (until Alexa was born). I think of the salty smell, the sound of the waves crashing on rocks. I remember that time when I was left unsupervised at a new beach. It was really clean and I had those goggles that covered my nose so I could swim underwater like a mermaid. I swam out, squirming my way on the seafloor, when suddenly there was a steep drop. I came up for air and down I went. I could feel this cold, cold current coming from this steep, dark drop. I went down as far as I could. Obviously that situation could have ended badly, but something scared me and I came back up but I thought to myself "I'll be back when I'm bigger. I need to know what's down there."
I guess...that. I need to know. I need to know what's out there in the world. I need to know what's on the bottom of the ocean. I need to know what's under the polar caps on Mars. I need to know what else is lurking in the rainforests.
Curiosity might kill me one day, but it's the only thing saving me right now.

That Girl

My memories from this summer have a strange quality to them. They're so...thick. It's almost like I can just reach out and touch them.
I know I can never go back to that...but I miss it sometimes. I never thought this would be the case...but I do.
I miss the fearless, reckless, careless girl with the unfinished phoenix tattoo. I miss the girl who resisted sleep (for fear of nightmares) until she passed out on the floor saying hi to her cat when she got home in the morning. I miss the girl who loved to go dancing every night. I miss the girl who wasn't afraid to go have fun by herself. I miss the girl who made friends so easily, and secretly trusted everyone. I miss the girl who could spend all day singing, never once worrying about whether other people could hear her or not. I miss not caring.

That girl is a stranger. I had shut down inside when I realized all of my worst nightmares became my reality, and that girl swooped in to save me. It's like she usurped my body, occupied the hollow shell, and filled it with love and hope for the world. Even though she's a stranger to me once again, that girl was fun. That girl had no worries. That girl had no reservations anymore. I was that girl for a while...and above all else, that girl was free.
Then...The Incident occurred. The Incident was a culmination of many things, but it seems to have had one outcome. It killed the part of me that was that girl...and I'm so sorry about it.

I don't really know how to feel about it, most of the time... That kind of "freedom" came at a price. It sounds like I'm romanticizing it, but I'm not. It's the sort of freedom I wouldn't really wish on anyone.

I'm not sure if I wish I never had to know what that felt like, or if I should be happy that I ever experienced that at all.

I think if I went back in time and had to watch myself live it again, I wouldn't try to stop myself. I wouldn't interfere. Just like the girl at the show so many years ago...I wouldn't dare to interrupt.

It Felt So Real

 

Last night I had a dream that felt so real. I don't know why, but my mom has not been in my dreams often.
Maybe it's silly, but it almost felt like she was ignoring me while I was fucking shit up. I was doing the wrong things, on the wrong track, and she would never have stood for that nonsense.
I've had a few dreams in my life that have stuck with me. The first one when I was maybe 4. Two after Austin died. The memories of them are so fresh. Last night was one of those that I will never forget.
I saw my mom. We were in some futuristic looking place, all shiny and cold, but it was full of people.
I was running around trying to find the room where I was supposed to be, and none of them were the right one. I would see my friends, different friends in different rooms, and each time I would think "Okay, he/she is here, so I'm supposed to be here too." Each time I would get sent out of the room with a brisk voice saying "you're in the wrong place."
After the frantic running to several rooms I just stood in the hallway. That's where my mom was. She was just standing there. She wasn't ordering me around, or rushing to anywhere like all the other people. She was just this silent presence. She looked sad... As I burst out of the last room and saw her face, I just started crying. I went to her and she asked me what was wrong. It just made me cry more, and I tried to tell her how I was so anxious, and I was never doing the right thing, and there were all these people who knew what to do except me...and then I just couldn't talk anymore because I was crying and my heart was about to pound out of my chest. So she hugged me. She hugged me so tight and let me cry. I could feel her arms. I could smell her perfume. I could feel her warmth. Then she told me, in her no-nonsense way, that it didn't matter what other people were doing and it didn't matter what anyone else thought. Then I looked up at her face as she told me that the only thing I needed to do right now was to fix my heart. She told me to do whatever I had to do to put my heart back together, and to find peace. And, of course, to ignore other people's words. I curled up into her again, calming down. I knew in my dream that she couldn't stick around so I just let myself feel her presence. No need to explain anything, she just knew how I felt. She knew what to say. She knew what to do.

Luna

I write all the damn time, in a notebook. I was talking to my brother about this. I have a bit of a dilemma. I actually uttered "some of my stories are just too real, even for the internet." ... :p
I guess what I meant was that...I want to publish some stuff. It is very personal, but also stuff that happened a long time ago. These aren't problems I am currently facing. A lot of people advise me against putting problems on the internet, but, well, what good are these stories if no one's ever going to hear them?
So, to lighten the mood in preparation for my first "I almost got shot" story, here's this awesome song I was sent!

So, this is more of a serious post, sorry.
I fucked up, a lot, this past summer. If there is a world record for the highest number of consecutive bad decisions, I'm pretty sure it was set by me. I pushed a lot of people away, and then hated myself for it.
It all just made me more depressed.
I hate that word, by the way.
Lately, I've been slowly getting out of the depressed fog. Most days are good, some are even amazing, but some are still...bad.

I found this picture on Lori's blog: http://www.rrsahm.com/ 

...but it's originally from http://www.robot-hugs.com/

Sexy Ben Franklin

I like the metaphor at the end. I saw it as the woman burying herself as a child. The loss of innocence, maybe?
Also, I just really like this song right now.

P.S. The title was just to get your attention, and also to reveal my unhealthy fixation with Presidents.

The Girl at the Show

It's true that you don't get to choose what stays and what stays behind. I'm sure we all have some really random things we remember years later. When I am really sad and just don't have time to feel it all, I make myself imagine the happiest things that I can to bring out warm and fuzzy emotions instead.
I used to sit and reflect on the endless directions that life can pull us, and would get lost in elaborate daydreams of  the various different places I could end up, the different types of work I could be doing in 15 years, and wondering about the people who will become crucial to me whom I don't yet know. It always filled me with hope and determination.  However, time seems to become a scarce resource as we get older, so I found something that requires much less of it: pulling from my happiness memory bank.

A really popular mental destination of mine is the first Florence and the Machine concert I went to with my friend Kitty.
It was a weekend trip, because did I mention the concert was in Los Angeles?
The drive there was pretty spectacular. We shamelessly jammed out to our favorite ladies to get in the concert mood. After we got a couple of date milkshakes, I passed one of the ultimate friendship tests back then (somehow), because Kitty was actually letting me drive her fancy car.
It was shortly after she let me take over that she discovered one of my most endearing qualities: my intense phobia of semi trucks.
The rest of the ride was just a thrill for her, and a test to how well I could hold my pee in (from the intense laughter...and scares) for me.
We realized as we were entering the Wiltern that night that most of the concert goers were females, in relationships with other females. We thought that was adorable, and I tried to hold Kitty's hand and pretend to be her lover but I don't think she was amused.We got an amazing spot. We were as close to the front as we could be without being in the pit, standing against the dividing wall. We had a better view than those in the pit, anyways.
I'm super impatient and wanted the openers to hurry up so I could see Florence already.
I was not expecting to fall in love that night, but I did. With Grouplove.
They opened for Florence and the Machine. I still don't know if it was the caffeine pills I took before the show, or magic, or what. All I know is that I suddenly felt...alive. I felt like I was waking up from a coma. I felt like how someone must feel when they get told they're going to Hogwarts. Fireworks were going off in my head. The band just seemed so happy, liberated, and connected to one another. It was palpable.
I think they were playing Gold Coast when I noticed the girl. There was a girl in the pit, dancing. She wasn't...dancing with anyone. She wasn't doing conventional dance moves. She was just dancing. It was like she could feel the music in her soul, like she anticipated what the next note would be before it was played.
She was surrounded by people, but she was in her own world. She didn't care what anyone thought. I don't know how to describe this emotion. I watched her and I simultaneously wished I could be as free as she was, but also wished I never had to know what that was like. It was tragically beautiful.
I don't know that girl, I don't know her story, I just know that at that moment I wanted to know everything about her, and I wanted to give her a hug. I didn't say anything to her though because I didn't want her to stop dancing.
I'll never forget what it was like watching Florence and the Machine at the Wiltern, the dress malfunction, the electric energy, or singing myself hoarse. I'll never forget how excited I was about Grouplove, buying their EP, and meeting Andrew afterwards (and telling him he smelled good, what?). I also won't ever forget that girl, dancing in the pit.

2014

This is bound to be a better year than last year for anyone with triskaidekaphobia. For everyone else...well, this year might be shitty, and I'm sorry. My resolution was initially more realistic and...simple...to stay alive. I hate failure so I like to keep my expectations low these days. Everyone was being all inspirational and happy and crap, so I wrote a better one.

My one resolution for 2014 is:

• To find my home.