Just Some Thoughts

I'll be honest; the last few weeks have been really emotional for me. I'm taking this medication that's supposed to be helping me with my depression but it's not. Also life isn't helping much either. There's been a lot of crying which I'm not used to. Anyway, I have had a lot of little thoughts lately, so I just put them all together here.


I've never been anything less than who I am. It might not be what you're looking for, but I was myself more with you than with anybody in my life. I don't regret it.

If I could give you anything, I would give you a mirror
To show you what I see
And though I’d love for you to see me too
It wouldn’t mean anything
If you couldn’t see what I see in you.

Though it feels like the best thing to happen to me in my life, I wonder if it's not meant for me.
Which doesn't make how it's impacted my life any less meaningful.
It means that the best thing to happen to my life is so great I can't even fathom it, and it'll be worth waiting for.

Soon I'll Be 25

I always thought about what I'd be like when I was 25, and in just a few days, I will be. I remember being about 19, working in Orlando, and a co-worker of mine was celebrating her 25th Birthday. I remember thinking, "Wow. 25 is so far away for me." And here it is, sneaking up on me. Here's an excerpt from a book I'm working on about my 5 year-old views on being 25.

Ever since I was five years old I’ve wanted only two things in life: 1) To be an actor (Well, at five years old, I specifically wanted to be the youngest actress to win an Oscar, but time crept up on me and I never made a movie. Damn you Tatum O’Neal for setting the bar so high!). 2) To be loved. One could argue that that two go hand in hand, being that performers thrive on love and attention from everyone, even a room full of strangers, but even at five years old I knew that having someone love you was a special thing. I was fortunate enough to grow up with parents who truly love each other. Everyday I saw what a marriage should look like, and it’s what I wanted. My parents married young, at twenty-three, and had three of their four kids before they were thirty. When that’s what you grow up with, you believe it’s the norm. I decided I would be married and start a family at twenty-five. Waiting until I was twenty-five would give me plenty of time to get my career started. Oh five year old me, if only you knew...

Making Fun of Fat Chicks.

I am a person not easily offended. One thing I cannot stand though, is when people make fun of fat people, girls in particular, because they think its funny. The only time this doesn’t bother me is when the person telling the joke is fat, or has made it known that they once were fat. I hate it when the butt of the joke is some fat girl. It’s schoolyard bullying all over again.  When a physically fit guy in his twenties is on a stage making fun of some fat chick he saw, it really angers me. He has no idea what her life is like. He has no idea that maybe she became overweight because people have said mean things to her all her life, and food is her comfort. All he’s doing is adding to her suffering. He’s kicking her when she’s already been down for so long. But to him, her size is a joke for him. Because she can’t hide it, he gets to laugh at it, and try to make a crowd laugh at her too.

When I make fun of a fat person, that person is myself. I make fun of my struggle with weight, because it’s universal. Everyone struggles with something. I make fun of it because I’m the one going through it, so who knows it better than me? I make fun of it because, every time someone laughs at the joke, it lets me know that I’m not alone in this (Also, it let’s me know that I’m really funny, but this isn’t about that)

I may not be the biggest person in the world, but I’ve been overweight about half my life. I didn’t choose this. Yes, I did it to myself, but I wouldn’t have chosen for all the mean comments, the rejections, the self-loathing, and the judgment. When I was in school, I was depressed a lot. Whatever was upsetting me came down to my weight. This boy didn’t like me- because I’m fat. My friends don’t want to go shopping with me- because I’m fat. I don’t know if those were the reasons, but I couldn’t see why it wouldn’t be because of my size. Food made me feel better. It tastes so good, and it’s something you could always have access to. One morning, I was feeling bad so I decided to get some ice cream. I was hating myself and my life and I just wanted to feel better. I didn’t care that it was the morning; I needed ice cream. My older brother caught me taking just a spoonful of ice cream from the carton, as that was all I wanted. He looked at me like he saw the most disgusting thing anyone had ever seen in the history of the world and said, “Ew, ice cream in the morning?!” I sheepishly finished the spoonful of non-judgmental cookie dough ice cream and went back to my room. I felt worse than before. It was as if my brother said what everyone was thinking. In those few seconds he confirmed my suspicions. I’m disgusting, and everyone can see it. I felt hopeless. I had no one to talk to about my problem. Was I supposed to confide in my size 4 friends? They wouldn’t understand my addiction. They would just tell me to go on a diet and exercise. That’s like telling a coke addict to just don’t do coke. It’s a mental issue. Our brain tells our bodies that we need these things. But what’s different with food, as opposed to drugs, is that you can get food everywhere. You need food to survive. No one will deny you from buying food. And food is cheap, especially unhealthy food. It was a vicious cycle I was in. I felt bad about my weight, so I ate, which caused me to gain more weight.

That’s just my story. That’s just how I became a 200 pound 24 year old. There are so many more people with stories about how they got to be where they are today. Some people may hide their problems, but fat people, we cannot. I have been wearing my problems for 12 years. So that fat girl you wanna make fun of might say she doesn’t mind, that she’s fine; but underneath all that fat is a sad story.

So why would you make fun of that?

I don’t make fun of your small dick for the similar reasons.

  

This is something I wrote in a comedy forum... I couldn't quite figure out how to fit it in with the above, so I just left it on its own...

Comedy is making fun of the tragedy in our lives. No one chooses to be fat, yes they're not born fat, but our environments, how we react to things that happen in our lives trigger something and instead of reaching for booze or a gun, I, like many people, reached for ice cream to soothe my pain. Here I am 60 pounds overweight and funny as shit because of people putting me down for it. So go ahead, make your lame fat girl comments, while I write jokes. :)

Diagnosed

When I was 7 years old, I really wanted glasses. I don't know why I wanted an accessory once associated with daily ass-kickings, but I wanted them; I wanted them badly. So I told my mom I was having trouble seeing the board in class and thought that glasses would help me. My mom made the appointment for the eye exam and I was very excited. I knew that I couldn't screw up this opportunity to attain my glorious frames I had longed for. The plan was simple. I knew I couldn't just fail the eye exam completely; then I'd be prescribed lenses that would make me blind. I had to miss just enough questions so I could get a mild prescription. How, at 7 years old, I knew to do that- I don't know. It's quite fascinating really. But I stuck to my plan and it worked beautifully. I got my glasses!

I want you to note that I finished that last paragraph at 10:21pm (according to the auto-draft save). I started this paragraph at 11:25pm (according to a clock). I left for an hour to find a photo of me with glasses. I know it exists, but I don't know where. So I just searched my parents computer. Instead of just admitting defeat in my search, I went through all the family photos and sent the ones I like to myself so I can add them on facebook. (I found the photo the next day- so there it is.)

Which brings me to my next point.

I saw a psychiatrist to evaluate me for ADHD.

Long story short- I have it AND Cyclothymia, which is a mild form of bi-polar.

I KNEW IT! Well not exactly, but I felt like I was off. If you read the last post then you're up to speed.

Part of me wondered if I went in prepared to give the doctor the answer I knew he'd need for the diagnosis I was anticipating, as I had done when I was a child. I mean, I started continuously rubbing my hands together during our first meeting. I guess psychologically, it was my way of acting on the thought of "Well if my answers aren't enough, he'll clearly notice this fidgeting as a symptom of ADHD." As the evaluations went on (over two sessions), I began to understand that I might have more issues than I thought. I never realized how reoccurring my depression was, or that I had episodes of elation.

I'm really taking this time in my life to take care of myself. I've had a really intense couple of years and I forgot to take care of myself in every way. I'm getting my weight and health to where it should be, I'm taking care of my mental well being, and I'm not worried about pleasing anyone else. It's refreshing to decide that it's going to be about me for a while.

Just Off

Do you ever feel like you're not like everyone else? That, whatever normal is, you are far from it? I've felt this way for as long as I can remember. I see how easy everyday activities are for everyone else and I just don't know why I can't be like that. Small talk. I've always hated small talk and even worse I hate faking my way through it. It's uncomfortable, unnatural to me. Small talk just someone vocalizing the obvious. The current weather. If a bus is late. If a line at the supermarket is outrageous. It's all completely obvious to those who are there experiencing it with you, why does it have to be said? Perhaps I over analyze the common conversation, and it hurts me socially; but I know no other way to be.

I just feel that there's something wrong with me. It doesn't make me a bad person, I'm just off.

Have you ever heard of this poem?

Mondays child is fair of face,
Tuesdays child is full of grace,
Wednesdays child is full of woe,
Thursdays child has far to go,
Fridays child is loving and giving,
Saturdays child works hard for his living,
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.

Well, now you have heard it. I was born on a Wednesday. I'm full of woe. It's the only negative day of the week! WTF! I was just an hour shy of being full of grace, but no, now I'm a sad klutz. But who's to say that this poem is even right? Though, I've always been a bit of a sad soul I suppose. I'm very sensitive and self-conscious, a lot more than I let on. I feel that I'm very aware and in tune with my feelings. I used to not know how to control my depression. When I was younger, about ten years ago or so, I would eat anything that made me feel better. And even while I was doing it I knew that it was wrong. I knew that it wasn't healthy, but I knew of no other way to be. It's like I've had 10+ years of practice with depression. Yes, I still get depressed, and I am at this moment, but I understand the signals and I try my best to not cave in to old destructive behaviors. I, for the most part, don't give into food- not nearly as much as I used to. The fact that I'm on day 15 of this diet certainly helps. I've been very motivated to see it through. The one thing that I'm having trouble getting over is being a recluse. I'm somewhat anti-social anyway, but when I get depressed, I don't leave the bedroom. I think that I should, and I feel that I should, but I just can't get myself to go. What would I do if I left the house? Who would hang out with me? I turn myself down before anyone else can. It's clearly a defense mechanism, but it's not defending me, it's actually hurting me.

It's hard to be funny when you're depressed. The funny comes after you're over it and you can reflect. I hate that I can't be funny right now. I'm trying to be. I'm trying to think of things to write, ways to be creative. I just don't have the energy for it. With the exception of a show I did Saturday night, I've been in my room since Friday (It's Monday as I write this). I've kept myself away from the world, even just the rest of the house for 4 days now. So why did I leave my room for a show? Well, I was already committed to doing the show. I don't like to cancel shows. Also, being on stage is the only time I feel right, which is weird to everyone else. Some people would rather die than be on stage and speak in front of people. For me, it's the only time I know I'll be happy. When I'm up there I am in control. I am the one who speaks and the audience has to listen to what I say. When I'm up there, in my head, I am the most amazing, beautiful, coolest, funniest person in the world. When I'm off stage, I don't have control. People don't have to listen to what I say. So all the built up confidence I have on stage, slowly goes away when I'm not on it. My challenge is trying to be who I am on stage, be the person I am off stage.

Hungover & Hungry: Misadventures at the Safeway Deli Counter

Not too long ago, on a night much like tonight, I drank almost the entire contents of a 1.5 Liter bottle of Merlot. I was with other people; it's not like it was a sad affair of me alone drinking a giant bottle of wine in my room until 2am. No. I was drinking with friends until 630am. I slept at my friend's place and I woke up just about noon and I had to leave. If I waited any longer traffic would have been hell. I got myself together in about a half hour and left. I felt fine (I puked at about 5am). It's about a 45 minute drive from my friend's place to mine and I felt alright considering all the wine that was working its way through my system. I hadn't eaten in many hours and it was making me feel sick. I decided to stop at the Safeway that was just the exit before my house. All I could think about was getting a sandwich from the deli counter and eating the fuck out of it.

I got to the deli counter after picking up some other essentials (A carton of ice cream and a small bag of Cheetos Puff) I waited behind two people to order my sandwich. As I waited in line it was at that moment that my body signals to me, "Hey... we're still drunk" Not super drunk, but that am I hungover or drunk? phase of the whole thing. I waited in line entirely too long. These were the slowest sandwich makers I had ever encountered. I've never seen anyone spread condiments slowly til that afternoon.

It was finally my turn and I was ready with my simple request. "I was roast beef, on the french bread, just mayo."

She responded cheerfully, "Would you like to make it a meal?"

"No."

"But you get chips and a drink for just two extra dollars."

Stone cold I replied, "I understand what the meal is, but I don't want chips and a drink, I just want the sandwich."

She makes the sandwich and asks me what cheese I'd like. I didn't want anything on my sandwich but meat and a condiment. Don't judge me; I don't like veggies and I don't like cheese with roast beef.

Anyway I said I didn't want cheese, "Just mayo. That's it."

She makes the sandwich, she's just about to cut it and she says, "Wouldn't you rather get the meat to make a sandwich, that would be cheaper."

I was appalled. She just made me the damn sandwich! And isn't she supposed to be upselling me like with the meal deal?

I said calmly, yet sternly, as if I was a serial killer ready to lose my shit, "Honestly, I drank a bottle of wine by myself last night and all I want is a sandwich with no effort on my part, so please just give me my sandwich."

She wrapped it up and I took it. I did self-check out and I left.

She really pissed me off. Just do as I ask! I really wanted to make a point. I really wanted to just drop my basket of unhealthy items and storm out. But then it would have taken me longer to get a sandwich that I so desperately wanted, and I wanted a sandwich just a little bit more than I wanted to make a point.

Breaking Down

I've been put through an emotional wringer the last 9 months, and I feel like I can't talk about it the way I want to talk about it. I feel like I'm not allowed to talk about it. I've experienced every type of emotion a person can experience in a short time frame and I've had to keep it all to myself. There have been secrets and private conversations. There are other people's privacy involved as well. I also just can't feel what I want to feel because I won't let myself do that. Even though I want to talk about it with friends, I don't, because I don't want them to see me cry, or break down. I used to be such a depressed person. I used to feel defeated and hopeless all the time. I don't want to be that person, and I haven't been that person in a very long time. The fact that I don't want to be that sad person anymore has made it so I don't allow myself to feel any unpleasant emotions and I won't express them. It's beginning to blow up in my face. I'm trying to find a balance to where I can be sad for the things I've been experiencing lately, but not lose myself into an episode of depression where I eat my feelings and listen to Dashboard Confessionals and cry my days away.

There are so many things I don't understand and I probably never will because I'm too afraid to get my answers. I'm too afraid to find out that no matter how great they may say I am, I'm not great enough. That there will always be someone better than me out there. That I'll never be anything more than someone's 2nd place. Because if that is the case, if that is the truth, then what's the point? Why should I keep putting myself out there when no one is going to care. Why should I put myself out there when all it's going to do is take me to finish line just to have someone else shove off the track before I can cross the finish line.

I'm not looking for love. I'm just looking to not get hurt. I didn't plan on the last year of my life to happen, but it did. I never wanted a guy to offer me everything I ever wanted only to ignore me for months at a time because he had other things to do than to not be with me. To tell me he wanted to be with me only to never follow through on his word.

I never wanted to make a connection with someone so deep, so real, just to sit around and wonder why he doesn't see me the same way I see him.

And there's so much more than that, but just too personal and dark to talk about in a public forum such as this. I've had to deal with it on my own as people make comments to me about what appears to be the truth when in reality if they knew what's been going on with me they wouldn't make any comments. They'd wonder how I'm able to function so well. I'm a girl that can keep her shit together for the sake of appearances. It's an Oscar worthy performance.

Nothing makes you feel more alone than feeling like you have to feel and process pain by yourself.

I'm writing this to express myself, not to get your pity. I'm writing this because I need to figure out how to deal with everything that has happened and the things that are currently happening in my life.


"Figure out what you want, and learn how to ask for it."

I've been trying to do that ever since I heard that line last December.

An Excerpt From Whatever it is I'm Writing

So I'm putting together a book, a memoir... I don't know what it is as I'm still living my story. Just wanted to share part of what I've been working on. Enjoy.


When you're in high school and your friends don’t think you’re pretty, or at least as pretty as they are, they boast about your great personality. It’s their loop hole way of redirecting the question, “Is she pretty?” Instead of insulting their friend, they say, “Well, she has a great personality!” I don’t have concrete proof that my friends didn’t think I was pretty, but they gave me at least three make overs in a two year time frame. Oprah didn’t give away that many make overs at that rate. The first make over is fun and exciting. You get a few new outfits, style your hair differently, and your friends show you that you don’t need all that blue eye shadow. The first make over is welcomed. The second make over raises some concerns. Why wasn’t the first make over good enough? I stopped wearing blue eye shadow, was there still something wrong? By the third make over it’s not fun anymore, it’s just insulting. At the time I was convinced that there was something wrong with the way I looked. I never thought of myself as ugly, but I didn’t look like all the other girls in school who had boyfriends and admirers. Perhaps if I grew up in some place in the middle of the country, instead of California, I would have been Homecoming Queen. Basically, what I’m saying is that I had issues with my looks. Shocking, I know. A teenage girl who’s insecure about her looks, who knew? More than my face, I was self conscious about my body. I was bigger than all of my friends. While they were anywhere from a size three to a size seven, I was anywhere from a size nine to a size fifteen. Any time a guy wasn’t into me I believed it was because of my weight. Now maybe for some guys, that wasn’t the case, maybe my weight had nothing to do with it, but I’m sure there were a few guys where having a skinny girlfriend was important to them. While I want to say that guys in high school are douche bags for being that shallow, I can’t, because I was shallow too. Just because I was fat didn’t mean that I didn’t have a certain type of guy I wanted. I think people forget that no matter what you are: fat, ugly, short, tall... we all want someone gorgeous to go out with. I always blamed my weight because according to my friends, my personality was too great to be dismissed. I believed that the guys I liked didn’t want to get romantically involved with me because of the Jack Sprat look we would have a couple.

Recently, I’ve been hearing from friends and family that I need to stop thinking so negatively about my appearance. I understand what they’re saying and where they’re coming from, but it’s so hard to change negative thinking. I just grew up in an environment where my peers tore me down. Senior year I took home economics. It was an easy class and you got to have one of those mechanical babies, they cry and you have to figure out if they need food, or a diaper change, and the baby has a monitor to see how well you did taking care of it. It was pretty cool. Anyway, two of my friends were in my class, Monica, and Jessica. Majority of my friends started having sex when they were sixteen. It was like they all got this memo that read: Go have sex with your boyfriends! And be sure that you make it your number one priority! I turned sixteen; no memo. I was terminally single while my friends would die and wither away if they didn't have a guy to call their own. To me, it seemed like they felt they had a sense of entitlement, as if they were more special than I was because they had a boyfriend. One day at school, for lunch, they decided all the girls would get together to have “Girl Talk.” It was so they could talk about their boyfriends, compare how much their hymens bled on the first time, and to see if anyone was into anything kinky like “Girl on Top.” Well I don’t know if it got that personal, because I wasn’t invited. Only the girls with boyfriends could go, which left me by myself. Cue the “Awwww.”

Alright, stop it, I don’t want your sympathy. But that was bitchy of them to do right? It’s one of the many reasons why I prefer the company of men to women. Perhaps this treatment added to my urgency to find a boyfriend, so I could be like my friends. Anyway, back to home economics class. Monica and Jessica sat fairly close to each other and I was jealous that they got to chat in class all the time. One day I walked by their seats as they were talking and I playfully said to them, “You guys need to stop talking without me.” as I walked back to my seat. Then Jessica said, “Well once you have sex, you can talk about what we’re talking about.” I don’t know what bothered me more, that she said it, or that she said it loud enough for the entire class to hear. Kids in school called her a “slut” and a “whore” a lot and I always defended her. Well, up until then I did. 

How Life Changed at Age 4.

I remember the exact moment when I realized that not everyone was going to like me. I was not quite 5 years old; it was the first day of Kindergarten. My family had just moved to town about a year before, and there were no kids my age on my block, so I went to school knowing no one. I went up to this girl in the playground and I asked her, "Hi, do you want to play with me?" and she said, "No." and walked away.


I was crushed. I had never felt rejection like that before in my life. Actually, I don't think I had ever felt rejection ever. She didn't even know me and she didn't even want to give me a chance! At that point my world and my outlook on life changed. I have a super power of being stubborn and holding grudges. My ability to hold grudges is "super" because it is a quality I get from both sides of my family, and both sides do it so well it would be poetic if it wasn't childish. That girl that denied me playtime was immediately put on my list. I didn't want to have anything to do with her. I remember in the 5th grade, the two of us had to talk to the teacher, or maybe the principal... I can't remember why, but I remember I brought up the fact that on the first day of Kindergarten she didn't want to play with me and the educator said something to the effect of, "That was so long ago, why does that matter now?" Why does it matter? She rejected me! And for no good reason I'm sure!


I really don't remember what type of kid I was before that moment. I think that I was outgoing, and a bit of a tomboy. I only had brothers, and the cousins that lived closed to us were all boys, and even in the neighborhood we had previously lived in, all boys in the neighborhood. Had I not received all that special attention for being the only girl, I probably would have thought I was a boy too. I got a lot of attention for being a girl when I was a kid now that I think about it. On both sides of my family, my generation is very male dominated. On my dad's side I was the only* girl out of all the kids (*That is until I was 5 years old and my sister was born). On my mom's side it was all boys except for me and my cousin Kathy*, and I rarely saw my cousins on my maternal side. (*Lilly joined the ladies team in the late 90's if I'm not mistaken) So as you can see, for those early developmental years, I was adored just for my gender. People loved me- unfortunately, the only people I knew were family. I didn't have friends prior to Kindergarten. Well I did, but not in California. We lived in New York for a few years and I went to pre-school there where, as pictures have shown me, I was friends with an Asian girl from class, and the neighborhood boys I had mentioned before. My dad got laid off, we moved in with my grandparents in Sacramento for a few months until my Dad got back on his feet and we moved to Pacifica. By this time I was 4 and I didn't continue pre-school. I'm guessing because money was tight, but also, what was the point? I would be starting real school that fall. I begged my mom for me to start school early. I have a Fall birthday so I was still 4 when I started school. My mom has always regretted that decision. She thinks that socially, school was too tough for me and had she waited a year I'd be better at being social. Perhaps. But I can't imagine how I would handle myself if I spent 2 years, instead of 1 at home with my mom and brother not interacting with kids my own age. That was really my downfall, not knowing any of the kids- at all! I mean I got there and it was like they all got this memo about school and I just showed up by accident. Some kids went to pre-school together, some we neighbors, and some were family, which blew my mind. You live in the same town as your cousins?! It was such a weird concept to me. ANYWAY... 


Where was I? I've rambled again haven't I? I had written this with the point of my first rejection and how it changed my perspective on life being the main focus of this blog- but now I'm intrigued by this whole, "I was adored for being the only girl for the first 5 years of my life" thing.


I think that I miss being adored for just simply being a girl. I admit I get annoyed when I'm out with my guy friends and they talk about how hot another girl is not only in front of me, but to me. Friends, if you're reading this- Please don't do that. Unless I am willingly trying to be your wingman- don't talk to me about how you think another girl is really hot. All that makes me think is that I am not hot in the least. It's not that I'm even trying to hook up with my friends and that's why I want them to stop that- it's just that I want everyone to think I'm attractive. I think everyone wants that. I don't think I've ever been hanging out with my guy friends and pointed out another guy* to them and talk about how hot he is. (*Jon Hamm and Jake Gyllenhaal are the exceptions. Also straight up asking me if I think someone is hot; I'm not responsible if you provoke it, and I accept the same rules on my end) 


My brother's birthdays are about a week apart, so one year my mom combined their parties. One was turning 7, the other 2. This was the Spring before I started Kindergarten, and my mom was pregnant with my sister- so technically, still the only girl- I think my parents kept my sister's gender a surprise. ANYWAY... this party was awesome because I got presents too. My aunt brought me presents so that I wouldn't feel so left out that both my brothers got presents and I didn't. I was so spoiled. I remember I got a wooden looking bracelet and a Little Mermaid baseball hat. I think me being a girl helped too. Boys are expected to deal with shit, but girls- aw they're fragile. They must be sheltered and coddled. (By the way I just want you to know that I accidentally typed "cobbled" instead of "coddled" and that, to me, is a hilarious typo.)


 No one prepared me for the real world when I was 4 years old. No one said, "Hey, just a heads up- not everyone is going to like you." But then again, how do you tell that to a 4 year old? What would I have said if someone did? 
"Why wouldn't someone like me? Do I smell?" 
 "No, you don't smell"
"Then what? Am I not cool?"
"No... you're 4 years old, no one is cool when they are 4 years old."
"Then what? What is it?"


And the thing is- there is no answer when dealing with kids that young! If you asked that girl why she didn't want to play with me, her answer could have very well been, "Cause I don't." She probably didn't have a reason. And why weren't the boys in Kindergarten huddled all around me waiting to ask me to play with them? I'm a GIRL! I had a good thing going in New York. All the neighborhood boys played with me when I was in New York (I realize how that sentence makes me sound like a trashy 4 year old, but you know that's not what I meant... right? RIGHT?!) Apparently, some asshole boy decided that girls were icky and that we were not fit to play with and told the other boys about this. Oh you'll regret that decision someday boys, oh yes you will.


Now, I eventually found someone to play with me that first day of school, but I never forgot how that rejection to my invite felt. Perhaps that was my trauma at an early age. (Sorry, I've been listening to a lot of Dr. Drew lately.) It's obviously not as horrible as what some kids have to go through, thank God- but think about it. I keep putting myself in situations in which I face rejection. (Dr. Drew says that you become attracted to what hurt you when you were a child. ie: a child that was abused attract men who abuse when they're older.) All throughout middle school and high school I'd ask out guys that had no interest in me. (Oh so much rejection). And now! I'm a stand up comedian. I don't know if an audience is going to like me. And auditioning for festivals, competitions, gigs- all have the potential for rejection! HOLY SHIT! I am on to something here! I have spent the last 20 years seeking the approval I never got from a classmate.


Well now that I've figured that out... what the hell am I supposed to do with that information? Eh, I guess I'll try to make a joke out of it... and hope everyone likes me for it.

Adventures in LA Comedy

Jason and I have been in Southern California all week. Traveling by car while disabled has it's pros & cons. Pro: Handicapped Parking Placard. This thing is AMAZING. My walking is very limited by my cast and so having the placard is so helpful! Not only can I park close, but I can park at meters and not pay them, and park in timed parking areas for as long as I want. It's pretty cool and definitely helpful in a busy city like LA. Con: MY LEG IS IN A DAMN CAST! It's uncomfortable to just exist, let alone exist in a car for multiple hours at a time. The sleeping situation hasn't been as horrible as I thought it would be. With the exception of a few nights in a motel- we've been sleeping on couches of my friends (Thanks MARK & HEATH! So helpful and so accommodating!) Actually what's really bothering me is the hours we're spending at Starbucks catching up on our Facebook and emails as we try to write something, anything, like this blog right now. My foot needs to be elevated, on a pillow or something soft, and not all Starbuck's facilities can provide me with that. But enough about that... I have pain pills for that...

So LA has been... weird. Our first day here, an English guy at a Starbucks approached me and told me I was beautiful. He wasn't hitting on me (I don't think) but just wanted me to know that I was beautiful. TAKE NOTE FELLAS! It's not like I was in a shitty mood before this European stranger came over to our table, but it was definitely a confidence booster! And this guy wasn't creepy at all. (Please take note of that too! Don't be creepy about it!) He was very polite, asked Jason if he was my boyfriend as to not step over any boundaries, and then BAM! Compliment! The best part of this was that I wasn't wearing any make up and had sat in a car for 6 hours. I definitely have a lot of issues with my appearance. I honestly don't think I'm the kind of girl that make guys look twice. I don't think I'm bad looking, I just believe that when out in public, and there are other women around, I'm not anyone's first choice of someone they'd like to get to know. Basically, what I'm saying is that my mysterious British man made me feel really good about myself and left me smiling the rest of the day.

That night we were booked to do a show by a friend of ours at 930. We were asked to bring as many friends as we could to watch the show. I'm horrible at getting people to see me. I don't know what it is about me, but I have friends from school that for the last 4 years have said they want to see me perform, and I tell them when and where, and they never follow through. I send event updates and messages and I'm lucky if I can get a "maybe" reply on facebook; which is really just a polite "no." A "yes" response is a polite "maybe." Anybody that replies "no" is just being honest. ANYWAY. I'm not a bringer. We got to the show around 7pm and found some people we knew. We found out that there was an open mic before the booked show, so we signed up for it. I mean, why not get some extra stage time in to practice some newer material? Long story short- the "open mic" ran until 11pm. I had some girl I went to school with show up with some friends and they WERE the audience. I didn't get on stage for the open mic until about 10pm, and I only got up when I did because my friends shouted to the host, "We want KELLY!" The host was a dick to me and Jason. He kept telling Jason he was next, and didn't put him on until almost last. The booked show started almost 2 hours late! It was super unprofessional and the open mic host was a royal ass to us. Just because he didn't know who Jason & I were didn't mean he had to treat us like shit. After my set, the host said, "You know what your friends are gonna say after this? 'You were the best one'." And I quickly replied, "Cause it's true." What an asshole. He thinks I brought people to tell me I'm good. Fuck that guy. I was good because I AM FUCKING Good. I don't like to sound egotistical but damnit I certainly was the funniest one there. We left shortly after both Jason and I performed. We were not staying for the "booked" show. Another person left the show and told me I was right- I was the best one there. THANK YOU STRANGER! Validation is always welcomed! I left the show that night having a very low opinion of the comedy scene in LA, that being my first time performing here and all.

Okay, so maybe that was a long story long... My bad.

The next night Jason and I were booked for a show at The Ice House in Pasadena. It was being recording for Comedy Time TV (Comedytime.tv ... it'll be up on the site in about 90 days I think) and we had to do 8 clean, family friendly minutes of jokes. The place was SOLD OUT! It was packed. Close to 200 people in there! It was amazing. The laughter was so loud and hard from the crowd I thought I was physically going to be pushed back a few steps from it all, like an incredible gust of wind in a storm. It was fantastic. Every joke hit! The crowd laughed so genuinely and long that it was really hard for me to not laugh with them. They were truly entertained. It was incredible. And I got a sweet DVD out of it. The polar opposite of the previous night.

The rest of the week has been alright. We haven't had too many shows to do. We were late for a sign up of an open mic and couldn't get on, and it was really hard to find shows to do on the weekend. We've been enjoying the sun and sights of San Diego this weekend. Well we did an open mic in San Diego, and it went well- tried out some new premises which has me excited that I have new premises to even try. Spent Saturday on a boat touring the San Diego Bay, and Sunday at the ball park where we watched the Giants beat the Padres and I got completely sunburned- yes I applied sun screen... apparently you have to keep applying it if you're at a baseball game for 11 innings.

We're back in LA trying to get up at the Comedy Store. It's a "lottery" to get on the open mic, but I've been told that the fact that I'm a girl can help my chances in getting on the show. I'm also not opposed to using my cast for sympathy points either. Hey! I drove hundreds of miles to get here to perform- I'm gonna take everything I can get.

I keep wondering if I could live here. It's beautiful. Traffic sucks. More comics wanting stage time. It seems like moving to LA for comedy would be like transferring schools, except you don't transfer to the same grade you're in now... you transfer and have to go back to Kindergarten. I still retain all my knowledge from my years of school, so I wouldn't have to work as hard as I did before... but I think everyone's going to look at me and treat me like a 5 year old, until I can prove to them that I know a few things.

Disabled

So I went back to the doctors, got a second MRI done on my foot and the diagnosis- still hella inflamed. Okay, so those may not be his exact words, but you get what I'm saying. The fact that I have to stand for 8 hours with my day job wasn't helping the healing process of my foot. So to make sure this thing heals for sure, I was given a shot of cortisone (OUCH) and a cast on my leg for four weeks. I thought about it for a while whether or not I should take a disability leave from work, weighing the positive and the negatives and I felt that since I'm not paying rent right now anyways, staying at my parent's house, then I should take the disability and let myself heal completely. After I got the cast on, it was clear that I made the right decision. There's no way I can stand for eight hours a day, I can barely walk around.

ANYWAY

So I'm out of work for 4 weeks. Wow I'm actually on summer break. How funny. I haven't had a summer break since I was in high school, and even then I worked part time. I really want to take advantage of this time I have to write something. I haven't been very disciplined with writing. I want to make a good goal to have and I think I've come up with one.

I've always have wanted to write a one woman show in which I explore how different women feel about their bodies and their appearances- do like 10-12 different character monologues. It really does get to exercise not only my writing, but my character work. I get to be funny with some, and dramatic with other, and just real and honest about a topic that I believe everyone can relate to.

It was either that, or I spend the 4 weeks working on jigsaw puzzles.

LOOK AT ME!!!

Am I too selfish in wanting everyone to know me? I want everyone to want me, without necessarily wanting them in return. Is this just how I think, or does everyone feel that way? I mean, I know we all want to be wanted by that "special someone" but I want everyone to admire me, be in awe of me, want me to know that they too exist in my world. God, that sounded so snobbish, but that's exactly how I've felt my entire life. Perhaps that mentality is what entertainers are made of. Ever since I was a little kid I wanted everyone to know who I was and what I'm capable of doing. Wanting to shine might just be my greatest strength and weakness. As a kid I'd do whatever I could to be in the spotlight. I did school talent shows; I would always volunteer to speak in front of the class for group projects; I even signed up to carry the cross to the altar at the beginning of mass despite the agony I felt being at church. Whatever I could do to get an audience, I would do it. I just want to be seen and heard, and not in the way my generation wants to be seen and heard either. I mean, nowadays its all reality shows and social networks, "ooh look at me! I have a baby!" I get it... someone fucked you. I'm not looking for people to just stare at me in my everyday life- I want people to see my work. I want them to come to my shows and hear my jokes; go online and watch my videos; read this blog; download my podcast. I feel like I'm capable of so much greatness and if I just had the resources and the audience to back me up, the possibilities would be limitless for me.

I don't think I'm egotistical. I feel like I have a good grip on reality. But everyone in the entertainment industry has to have some ego to get anywhere in this business, otherwise why bother? If you don't think you are good, then why should anyone else? I feel I'm a good judge of myself and my work. I know when a joke does poorly, and I know when one does superbly well. My parents are probably to thank for that. They raised me with this mentality of "You can be whatever you want to be... unless that thing is a dancer, cause you don't have rhythm, but we'll still come to your dance recitals." They were, and still are, encouraging, supportive, yet real with me. They've seen me perform stand up many times and I remember one night, at a comedy competition, I didn't do so great. I had an off night. My mom asked me how I thought I did, and I told her, "It didn't suck, but it wasn't my best." and she said, "Yeah, it wasn't your best. We voted for you of course, but we voted for Dan too- we really liked Dan." I believe Dan did move on that round, and I didn't, as I shouldn't have. My parents didn't hurt my feelings, they were honest and supportive. Quite a blessing to have.

ANYWAY- I feel like I've rambled, it's 230am and I'm not sure how to end this mess of a blog. GOODNIGHT.

Saving Me.

It's hard to write when my mind is so cluttered with so many different issues, and distractions, and emotions. How am I to decide on what one thing to talk about right now? I think its why I've avoiding writing a new post for as long as I have.

I keep having these really deep, meaningful conversations with my friend after consuming alcohol and being out til the next day. It bothers me a bit because of the previously mentioned elements, it's hard for me to remember everything about the conversations- everything that was said. But I remember how I felt in that moment, and it's amazing. It's crazy how connected you feel with another person. I always thought I was really close with some of my friends, and I am- I'm not saying we're not close... What I am saying is that, well I don't know what I'm saying; I don't know how to articulate it. Perhaps there are no words. It just feels right.

Sometimes there are just things you know, or at least you have to believe that you're right. I just have to believe that I'm going to be alright. I have to believe that I'm going to be successful. I have to believe that connections I've made with people- with my friends, are not one sided.

I don't know where I'm going with this... I told you my mind is all cluttered. I'm distracted by the pain in my foot- it's just constantly swollen. I'm mostly distracted by my emotions though. I think what I'm feeling the most right now, and it kind of sums up the last 7 months or so, is that I feel saved and I can't imagine where I would be now if things haven't worked out the way they did this last year.

Well This is Getting Ridiculous and I Flashed the Neighbor...

I'm finding that the whole- writing everyday thing is getting ridiculous. I mean, I suppose if I didn't have a regular job and had a lot of time to myself, it would be an easy goal to accomplish, but I do have a regular job. I'm also spending my entire day out of the house too. I'm not trying to make excuses, I'm just saying it's getting to be too much, and it's not like I'm producing gold within every entry. I mean, the last one I wrote half asleep... what was that one even about?

ANYWAY

I switched rooms in my parent's house. I was sharing a room with my younger brother who is home from college. Now, my other brother is home to visit and it just makes more sense for the boys to share a room. I'm in what's supposed to be the den, the office, what have you- is where I sleep now. I have an air mattress and a lot of crap around me. Granted majority of that crap is mine, all in boxes from moving, but still.

Sorry the picture's so dark... there's one light- on the desk. The ceiling light... well there's the wiring for the ceiling light, but that's all.

Also you can see in the picture that the blinds are closed, which wasn't the case when I started sleeping here. They were pulled up and it wasn't something I noticed getting home from work at 2am. I did notice that it was pulled up AND that people walking down the street can see into the room the next morning, as I was getting dressed. I don't know if the guy walking down the street saw me half naked, but I guess good for him if he did. He was a grown man, if he hadn't seen tits by now, then I just did him a favor.

What Was I Gonna Say?

I didn't really have time to write today since I had to work two full shifts at my day job today. I think that in the middle of my day I came up with a really great thing to talk about here on the show. It was perfect- witty, and a topic that wouldn't go on for ever. I can't remember what that thing was. Serioiusly- what what I going to writese

Dieting, Oh No, Just Counting

Ugh... I did it. I signed up for Weight Watchers online. With my foot bothering me as much as it has lately, and with my health probably in horrible condition, I need to get my diet together. I've done weight watchers before- briefly and it was successful, but then I would get cocky about how well I was doing and then I gained the weight back. Consistency has always been my issued. I know this program works; my friend lost weight with it after having each of her kids, Jennifer Hudson did it- I mean I have proof. I just hate having to stop what I'm doing, log in what I ate- it might not seem like a big deal, but maybe that's just part of my uncovered mental issues. Boy, am I a catch or what?

Courting Wil Wheaton

So I've been writing the second part to a sketch I came up with...

(This is Stalker 101, Ep. 1)

In the next episode I'm currently writting, there is a mention of Wil Wheaton. If dreams could come true, Wil Wheaton would make a cameo appearance at the end of the scene. I'm going to ask him to do it- once I've finished writing the script of course. I don't know if he'll do it, but if he does, that would put so much pressure on me to do well. It would be so hilarious too, but a lot of pressure. Wish me luck in my pursuit of casting Wil Wheaton. I hope I don't come off as too stalkerish.

My Foot

So back in January I busted my foot. I was performing at a show and while the comedian before me was finishing up, I went to the restroom. To get to the stalls you go up a small, winding staircase. To get back to the show room, you walk down those stairs. I, instead, fell down them. It was like the stairs turned into a slide mid-step. After cursing up a storm, I, still on the floor, opened the door and found another comic there. I asked him to tell the host that I couldn't go on stage at that time. The other comics helped me up and I wondered in my foot was broken. After icing it for about 20 minutes, I went on stage, cause I'm a champ.

Anyway, it turns out the top of my foot has soft tissue damage, which I'm told is worse than a break. For a while I was in a horrific looking boot which drew a lot of unwanted attention from strangers. This last 6 weeks or so I've felt like my foot was finally almost healed. I started going to the gym again, and wearing heels (short heels, but heels at that).

Tonight at work, my foot hurt so bad I didn't know how much longer I could walk. I'm actually up in the office icing my foot right now! It's just really annoying because I'm trying to make a healthy life style for myself and lose weight (I added 13 pounds to my unnecessary weight because I couldn't work out for about 5 months). Ugh, I guess I'll have to try harder with the dieting. Boo.

This is my foot the night I fell back in January

This is my foot tonight, swollen!



Hanging In There

So I'm sleeping in my car tonight. I'm so tired of driving 45+ miles each way to and from work, just so I can do it again the next day. Also, gas isn't cheap, and I'm trying to save money. I was suppose to have plans tomorrow, but I guess they fell through, which is why I was going to sleep in my car- I mean, why get home at 2am from work, just to leave by 830am so I can meet people at 10am? I decided that even though the plans fell through, to just stay on this side of the bridge. I have my computer, a change of clothes, a set of workout clothes, a book- I have things to occupy my time until I have to be back at work Sunday afternoon- so it's not going to be completely awful. And I'm not worried about being in my car- I'll be in the employee lot, which has security 24/7, and more importantly bathroom facilities. I could sleep on the couch in the break room, but the morning crew comes in at 5am, and they'll wake me up and then I'd have to explain why I slept there, and that I'm not working that morning. It would just be annoying. Anyway- I'm off to IHOP with my co-worker, and it's the highlight of my day.

Writer's Block

Writer's block isn't very fun. I feel like I get it more than most writers. It sucks because no matter how motivated you are to write something, you just can't figure anything out. Like right now- I'm all set up to write this blog and I couldn't think of anything to write about. I told myself I'd blog everyday, so I don't want to blow it off. It doesn't help that I'm exhausted either. I could very well fall asleep while typing. I hope that I don't- my laptop would probably fall off the bed and that would make me sad. I'm watching Chelsea Lately. I could totally be on the panel for that show. I can talk trash/make jokes about celebrities and news stories. That and those VH1 shows like "I Love the 80s." I would be so great at saying things like, "Hell yeah I remember pogs!" How do I get that job? Seriously- who can I send my promotional package to for that?

How Broadway Changed My Life

When I was five years old I would sing and dance to the soundtrack of Broadway's A Chorus Line. For those of you who are familiar with the musical, you'll know that it's not necessarily a kid-friendly production. A Chorus Line is about a group of dancers auditioning to be in the chorus line of a Broadway show. The songs they sing reflect why they want to be a dancer, and how they got to the auditions. At 5 years old my mom told me that she would take me to see the show when if came to the San Francisco area, and she did. I had waited over 15 years to see it. We got amazing orchestra seats, and when the lights came on and the music started, I began to cry. I had envisioned what this would look like for years. What were the dances going to look like, how did the story move along with the songs. It was overwhelming.

I am by no means a dancer. I wish I was. And I can sing alright- I know my limits. If I could sing better, and if I had an ounce of capability to dance, I would definitely be pursuing a career on Broadway. It's the grandest form of performance out there. You use your voice and your body to convey all the emotions you're trying to get out. Don't get me wrong, I love being a comedian. I love being on stage and letting my personality shine through as I make people laugh, but there is just something about singing that I can't describe. 

The video below is one of the numbers from A Chorus Line. I probably could put a clip of all the songs and explain what it means to me, but I narrowed it down to three.  This first one is "Music and the Mirror" I used to sing and *Poorly* dance to this song around the house. I only did it if no one was in the living room. I was so self conscious, but when I knew no one was watching, I danced as such. This song still means a lot to me now. It's saying, "I know I can do amazing things, I just need you to give me a chance to show you."

This next song, "Dance: Ten; Looks: Three" was one I loved to sing to, and I had no idea what I was singing about. (Some of the chorus is, "Tits and Ass, where the cupboard once was bare, now you knock and someone's there...") I'm surprised my mom didn't censor me, but I didn't know what the words were, so no harm, no foul right? I was 5 years old dancing around singing about getting tits and ass. How adorable. This song is about a girl who, despite her talent, felt she wasn't getting jobs because of her body. So she went to the doctor and took care of that. It's still one of my favorites to sing.

This last song is what I thought was a song about a guy. "What I Did For Love" is sung after the director ask those auditioning, what would they do if they couldn't dance anymore. This song is about the things we'll do for the things we love- in this case- being a dancer. It still speaks volumes for me as a performer, and I completely understand everything about it.

Shitty Friends, and Falling Down in Church

I don't really know what to write about it. I'm at work right now, and my foot is swollen and aches, so my mind is a bit preoccupied. A conversation with a friend last night got me thinking about a reccurring theme throughout my childhood/adolecence: I have friends that just stop being my friends. Has this happened to anyone else?

The first time it happened was in the 5th grade. If you've seen me on stage, you might have heard a bit I do about going to therapy when I was 10 years old because a girl in my class would call me fat and told me that nobody liked me. That girl was my "friend". I went trick-or-treating with her and watched "Grease" at her house! What did I do to her? I was such a goody goody as a kid, I never was mean to anybody. Her and another girl were my friends and I guess one day they woke up and decided to be mean to me. One night at a sleep over, I fell asleep first and I woke up to them putting black nail polish all over my face. They would have the Jenny Craig weightloss hotline call my house asking how they could help me shed those unwanted pounds before bikini season (Which might just be the cuntiest thing I've ever heard in my life). I don't know what, if anything I did to them. Was I just an annoying kid? Possibly. But that didn't warrant their actions.

The next was in middle school. In 8th grade I had two groups of friends I hung out with. I classify them as my Valerie group, and my Monica group. Not that they couldn't and didn't get along, just different crowds is all. So I'm at lunch, getting ready to sit down with my Monica group of friends and one of the girls looks at me and says, "What do you think you're doing here?" I said, "I'm eating lunch with my friends." And my supposed friend replies, "Well you can't sit here." All of a sudden one of my friends doesn't want me to eat lunch with her and everybody else. I had a  "WTF Moment" before that phrase was coined. I stood up for myself, which I never did before and told her that I was eating lunch with my friends and she couldn't stop me from sitting at that table. And she couldn't, and didn't stop me. Instead she got up and left and made everyone else go with her (Cuntiest action ever #2). After that school year I had a sleepover with one of the girls from my Monica group. She was best friends with the girl that refused to lunch with me. I asked why she hated me all of a sudden, if I had done something to make her mad. She said she didn't know, that she one day just decided that she didn't like me. How can you just do that? How can you be friends with me for a couple of years, and then just decide to hate me, and ostracize me? I was 13 years old and couldn't believe how childish people were acting.

The last time this happened to me was when I was 19 years old. I got a great opprotunity for an internship program when I was 18 years old and I went to live and work in Orlando Florida. It was only for 6 months, so I told all my friends to keep in touch as I'd be back before they knew it. I kept correspondaces up with a few people, but, with the expection of my BFF, I was always the last one to write. Eventually the letters, and myspace messages (Does that date me? It was 2005, don't hate) stopped coming. As my return date approached, my friends were so excited to see me. I got a lot of messages on my myspace wall "What day are you coming home?" I was so happy to see my friends, and happy that they were excited to see me too. When I got home I thought my phone would be ringing off the hook (Is that phrase still appropriate, ya know cause no one really uses phones that rest on hooks anymore?). I made a lot of effort to make plans with the friends that missed me so much. I think I hung out with them once, and then they never returned my calls after that. Had Florida changed me? I mean, yeah it did in a way but for the better. I learned to live on my own, and be responsible for myself, and adapt to a new environment- but deep down I was still the same person.

This is why I like guy friends better, and why I have always gotten along with them better than girls. Not one of those stories is about a guy friend. They were all girls. Why do we treat each other this way? I understand not everyone is going to like me- I don't like everyone. But to take the time to develop a friendship and then to just trash is and me, that's just rude. And it's fucked me up. I don't know how- I still need to seek help for that, but I know it's at the root of my issues with socializing.

I feel like this was depressing in some way. Here's an embarrassing story about me to cheer you up.

When I was 9 years old I starting carrying the cross to the alter at the beginning of Sunday Mass. I hated going to church, but carrying the cross was like giving me a part in the show- it was something to do. One day I'm walking down the aisle, and to get to the stand where I put the cross, I have three steps to go up. Well this particular day I decided to skip one of the steps. I don't know why, perhaps I thought it would help make Mass go by faster. Anyway, I skip the step, but Jesus on the cross doesn't and I fall flat on my face- and I take Jesus on the cross with me, as if he hasn't been through enough already. By the way, when I fell is made this loud booming noise that echoed throughout the church. I got up, put Jesus in his spot, and went to my seat. By the way- no one helped the fallen 9 year old up, in church! No one asked if I was okay either- they just ignored it, like the Catholics are known for doing.

Homeless...Kind of...

Sorry I couldn't post this yesterday, ya know in a timely fashion and all. I had a very full day. I had to leave my parents house early so I could go look at an apartment, then I made lunch plans with my friend Liz, and then I had a show to produce. When my days are full and long like that, I back a bag to be prepared for anything the day/night by throw at me. I feel like I'm, for the most part, living out of my car. The drive from my parent's house to work, and back is just too much. Gas is too expensive and I'm too broke to keep doing it. So I've decided that unless I'll have at least a whole day to myself with no plans, I won't be staying there. My plan is to just work a lot, and I can just sleep in the break room at work (there's a couch) or in my car (which is tucked away in the employee lot, so don't worry, it's safe Yo!.... why did I just type "Yo!"? I'm an idiot). Anyway, I figure that if I have a suitcase with me of clothes to last me for a week-10 days, I should be good. I can go home when I don't have to work, or have plans to be in the city, and I can shower and do laundry there, or worst case scenario: I can shower at the gym and do laundry at my friend's places near by work. It may not be the best plan in the world, but it's certainly not the worst. It is only temporary too, just until I find a place.

Speaking of.... anyone have an affordable one bedroom?

My Addiction

I ate a bag of apple slices today. I bought a bag of salad. I went to the gym. So why am I so miserable? I hate that I've let myself gain all this weight that I lost back, and then a little some. It's so frustrating. I injured my foot back in January and have only recently been able to begin working out again, but still, how could I let this happen? I have a serious problem and I don't know how to resolve it. I can't afford a trainer, and I'm so stubborn about what I eat, that if I don't want it, I won't eat it. As I mentioned I bought a bag of salad. It's a Caesar salad; I figured if I covered the lettuce with enough crap, then perhaps I could consume it entirely. I've force fed myself salads before and I can never finish more than a bite, if that. It just feels weird in my mouth (that's what she said) and I can taste that it grew in the dirt. Hopefully tonight will go over better than my previous attempts. I know I need to change my eating habits because I keep getting sick from whatever I eat. I usually eat something with sugar in it. At work I'll grab a burger and fries for lunch. It's really bad. You would think that having gallstones at age 20/21 years old, and subsequently having my gallbladder removed, would be enough of a wake up call to change your lifestyle--- but it wasn't. I remember the doctor said to me, "After the surgery, you'll be able to eat like you normally would." My normal, is not the normal though.

I read a lot of other women's success stories of weightloss. They say things like, "To curve my cravings for sweets, I'd chew a piece of gum." or "I'd just allow myself to have one square of chocolate to satisfy my cravings." Is it just me or is that bullshit? How can chewing on a piece of gum make you not want a bag of candy anymore? How can you just stop at ONE piece of chocolate? What worries me about this is that it really is JUST ME that feels this way. It means that my problems with food, and sugars specifically, is far more severe than I could have thought possible.

How do you stop a sugar addiction? It's not like I have a dealer. I can go anywhere and get a cookie, or cake, or whatever I might be craving. And when I try to back off of the sugar, I get major withdrawal symptoms. It's all I think about, and I won't rest until I give my sweet tooth what it wants. It's embarrassing but about a month ago, I have negative dollars in my checking account, and a nearly maxed out credit card. I had $4 left on that credit card, and I wanted chocolate so badly that I charged my last $4 for candy. That's straight up crackhead level right?!

I really want to try to incorporate a better, more balanced diet in my life. I'm looking up how to make vegetables more kid friendly- God that's sad.

Well, having said all that, I'm really hungry.

Sweating the Small Talk

I'm not really good at small talk with strangers, hell, with people I know too. I don't know what it is, but I hate it. It's the worse with strangers. At my day job, I have to talk with strangers all the time. I just want to get them what they need and out of my life. Is that too harsh? I mean, I don't want to have a conversation about the weather, and I don't care that you have a daughter named Kelly. It's not like it's an uncommon name. If my name was Princess Unicorn, and so was your daughter's then yes, that is a weird coincidence. let's talk about it. I don't know how to respond to that. Does that make me a bad person? Well, not a bad person, but a bitch? I don't mean to be a bitch, but I just don't think I should have to feign interest in a pointless conversation with someone I'll never see again. Perhaps I wasn't taught as a child how to interact with people. I was taught to fear strangers, as they can take you right out of your own backyard. Remember that Polly Class girl? I remember I was about her age when it happened and it freaked my mom out- well it should have freaked any parent out actually. But my mom maybe went overboard with the fear. The thing was, it was really unlikely I would be kidnapped from our backyard. It was a shitty backyard and we lived on a hill. We had a deck and a bunch of random plants growing underneath it like a jungle that no animal would want live in, and that no big corporation would want to tear down for profits.

Oh I've done it again, I've rambled on and astray from my point. I suppose that point was, that I was raised to fear people, rather than to embrace them.

I think that adulthood is about figuring out how exactly childhood/adolescence messed you up, and then trying to correct it. I know that when I was young I felt fat and ugly, and I feared strangers, and I just wanted people to think that I was amazing. Now that I know all of those things made up my crazy mind today, I need to figure out how to undo that frame of mind. I'd like to be that person at a bar that can start a conversation with someone and then meet a cool new friend. I'm just so self-conscious about how I appear to them, and am so worried I'll say something wrong. I've always been so eager to be liked by people that I don't know how to just be myself at first meeting. I get tense and shy. I'm sure that most of my first impressions were awful. So how do I fix this? Perhaps it's time for therapy...again.

Shit Went Down in Boston

Okay, so I’ve slept through the hangover and I’m feeling much better. My trip to Boston with Jason was overall, awesome with bits of insane sprinkled in. We flew out to go to Fenway Park to see the Red Sox play. We flew out on a redeye and had all day to hang out in Boston until the game that night. We went to the JFK Museum, and then to the Sam Adams Brewery for a tour and some free beer. I just gave all my beer to Jason. I tried them all, but beer just doesn’t taste good. I don’t understand how everyone likes it.

After a long day of comminuting via public transportation and a quick nap at the hotel, it was finally game time. I got standing room only tickets, but they were at a really good spot, and we ended up only standing for a few innings and then we snagged some deserted seats. It was a really exciting game; the As were up, then the Sox caught up, then the As scored again… you get the idea. The Sox won, and the atmosphere of the stadium was electric. We went out to a nearby bar to have some more good times. Cut to an hour and two long island ice teas later and Jason and I are talking with some local girls and I have a Bostonian accent that I just could not shake. I think I ended up have four long islands. I had three, then Jason bought me a shot, I threw up the shot in the bar, then some more in the bathroom, and then I convinced him to buy me another long island. When we left the bar, we somehow were helping some of the girls we met. We were at a Domino’s pizza and one of the girls was a complete wreck. She was wasted and emotional about something, I don’t know what. I think I talked to a guy on the phone for her. I ordered a pizza because quite frankly we all could have used some food. Jason was outside trying to make sure her friends got home okay. There were a lot of guys out front trying to get these girls into cabs- it was real shady. These guys did not like Jason interfering but Jesus, the world needs men like Jason. Those girls are lucky that he was there. He got them a cab and I sent the girl I was with outside to go home. As I waited for Jason to come back over to me, this guy was trying to tell me that Jason wouldn’t be coming back for me. (As you read this, remember I was still talking with a Boston accent) I started screaming at the guy, “Fuck you, fuck you! You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about.” He told me that I couldn’t trust Jason and that he was going to get in the cab with the girls. He asked why I was so sure he would come back for me. “Because he’s a good guy, and we flew out cross country together and he’s my fucking best friend.” And the guy said some shit about him and I got this overwhelming shady feeling from him. So I started screaming Jason’s name as loud as I could. The cab was on it’s way but by this point I think he was trying to shake off some of the guys who’s night he disrupted. After screaming for Jason he came and got me and we left. I was in tears. What a fucking asshole that guy was. I can’t believe that there are people like that out there, it’s scary. I was never worried that Jason wouldn’t come back for me; I just didn’t know what this jerk was capable of so that was my cause for panic. I just had an overwhelming bad feeling. It was like a nightmare. As we walked far away from that bar, I mentioned the pizza that I bought, which I had been holding onto for a while by then. Jason, said, “Forget about the pizza!” Took the box out of my hands and threw it. As the box was flying through the air, the pizza flew out of the box like a Frisbee into the night. It was almost beautiful really. I couldn’t believe he did that. I paid for that pizza and I never ate one bite of it. We found a cab and we were finally on our way to the hotel. I don’t remember anything from the cab ride except Jason whispering in my ear, “At the next stop, we’re jumping out of the cab.” I was freaking out, I don’t know how to jump out of a cab! And what if he jumped out and I hesitated and couldn’t follow him. I kept telling him that I couldn’t, that I wasn’t jumping out of the cab. I thought that Jason didn’t want to pay for the ride, but apparently the cab driver was shady. Jason said that he wasn’t listening to his directions and was running red lights. I don’t remember that all. I think I was still upset from that asshole from earlier. We tell the driver to pull over at a gas station so we could get something from the store and we got out. The driver said he wanted his money. Jason was paying him and the cab driver wanted him back in the car to pay the bill. Jason refused to get in the cab. “Ill pay you, but I’m not getting back in the fucking car.” So the driver got paid and he drove off. And there we were, drunk, at a gas station, somewhere in Boston at 3am. OH! I forgot, while in the cab Jason had called 911. I didn’t know why he was doing that at the time. He felt really unsafe in that cab and had 911 on the phone, but he just let phone stay on the line. I really surprised they didn’t call his phone back. Anyway, we’re at this gas station and he was gonna call the cops again and decided that the cops could drive us back. Jason was not trusting of anyone at this point. I didn’t know what the cops would think of us, being as drunk as we were, so I just asked the people working at the gas station to call a cab for us. The cab arrived and this time, we were finally on our way. We got to the room and it was such a relief.

That certainly was not the night I was expecting. And every time I think about it, I just wish that I punched that guy in his face. Seriously, my one regret last night was not beating the shit out of that guy. Jason’s one regret: Throwing the pizza into the night. Oh wait, he remembered it was a Domino’s pizza, maybe it’s not that regrettable.

I Know! I Know!

Okay so I did post the last few days cause I was out of town and the hotel didn't have free wifi (hotels are still charging?) But I did write. Here's what I had written for Thursday AND Friday. I will post again later today when I'm not so drunk/hungover. I can't really tell which it is yet.

THURSDAY'S POST

I think I'm going to start force feeding myself salads. I just almost threw up in my mouth after writing that. See the thing is, I am incredibly unhealthy. I don't eat nutritiously at all. I hate vegetables. Well corn is cool, but everyone seems to think that corn doesn't count because it's a starch. How rude. Anyway... I eat what I feel like eating with is anything with sugar. I have a sugar addiction and I don't throw that phrase around lightly. I definitely get withdrawals when I go without sugar. I can't stand salad for two reasons. 1) The taste. I can taste the dirt it grew in. And the salad dressings are not tasty to me either. 2) I don't like the way it feels in my mouth. This is the main reason why I can't and won't eat salads. The leafiness... the crunching... ew. It just feels wrong in my mouth (That's what she said). At first my dislike for vegetables never bothered me. Sure I'd have to work out a lot harder at the gym to lose weight and keep it off once I get to my goal, but it would be worth it. As I'm aging, I'm realizing that my body can't keep up with my eating habits. I feel sick a lot, and I know it's from what I'm eating. It's hard to eat healthy cause I'm so stubborn and I want what I want. And when it comes to food, I won't stop thinking about it until I get it. When are they going to make a food additive to make salad taste like candy? That would solve everything.


FRIDAY'S POST

I don’t know what to write about it. I’m tired and hungry. The hotel can’t check us in yet because they were full last night and won’t have any open rooms until after people check out. Oh well. Jason and I are here to see the Red Sox game tonight. At least it’s a night game and we’ll have time to sleep before the game. Wow, I am really hungry. Who knew that a Dunkin Donut can’t satisfy your hungry for 3 hours? Yeah, we should go get a breakfast Part 2.  To kill some time, we’re going to the Sam Adam Brewery, and the JFK Library & Museum. I don’t know how much time that will kill, but it’ll take us about 40 minutes to get from the hotel to the brewery. I wish that I liked beer. That would make going to a brewery at 10am more fun. I’d also like to enjoy beer because it’s just cheaper, and is everywhere. I hate when I go to a bar and it’s a limited selection, like wine and beer only. I used to not care for wine, but I have grown a taste for red wine. I just can’t do it with beer. Beer is just bitter and unpleasant. I remember kids in high school saying, “Just keep drinking it, you’ll get used to it.” I don’t want to get used to bitter and unpleasant. I’ve tried different types of beer, and I just never found one that I could drink. The closest I can get to beer, I suppose, is the hard ciders. I can drink those, but it wouldn’t be my first choice.  The first time I had a hard cider was during my acting class my first (only) year of college. Our teacher would call for a 5 minute break, which ALWAYS meant 20-30 minutes. We would all be back in class after 5 minutes and wait for him to return. One day some of my peers decided to take advantage of the long 5 minutes and decided to go to the Pub on campus. I had just turned 18 and I was in an Acting II class. I don’t how in my first semester I was able to bypass Acting I, but I did. Most of the other students there were at least 21. They let me tag along and one of the guys got me a hard cider. We drank and went back to class. I felt a little tipsy, and totally cool. We got back to class and hadn’t missed a thing.  Then we watched a kid do a monologue from Hamlet. The performance was strange. Hamlet is my favorite Shakespeare play, so maybe I was a bit bias but the guy did an awful job. The teacher called upon me to critique him and I felt that my filter to censor negative comments was gone. I chose my words very carefully as my classmates knew what was going through my buzzed mind. The teacher didn't notice though. Oh it was fun hanging out with the big kids. Oh college.

Sliding Doors

So there's this movie with Gwyneth Paltrow called "Sliding Doors" and in it shows the two lives she could have had based on one decision she made. Something like that, I never really saw it. It's probably bad to start off a blog post by explaining a movie you only know existed because you're mom rented it years ago and you saw bits a pieces of it while getting food from the kitchen. ANYWAY. It's an interesting subject. How different would our lives be if instead of going through door A, we went through door B?

Today is my friend Megan's 5th wedding anniversary. She has been with her husband for a total of 9 years and they have two beautiful and amazing kids. Megan and I are very similar. You know when you have a friend that just "gets" you. That's Megan. We are complete dorks together, and make each other laugh and are there for one another for the bad times. I believe that Megan and I could very well be the same person living out different lives. She went through door A: The family life. While I went through door B: The career life.

I can't speak for Megan, but sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if it worked out the way my 5 year old self wanted it to. When I was 5 I dreamed of being an actress- well specifically the youngest actress to win an Oscar, but time crept up on me and I did not make a movie. If only Tatum O'Neal didn't set the bar so high! Anyway, I wanted to be an actress and to get married by the time I was 25. My parents married when they were 23, so I thought those extra two years would give me plenty of time to get my career going. By the time I got to middle school I was just waiting to meet my Cory Matthews to my Topanga Lawrence. Of course the 6th grade is where I would meet my soul mate, that's what middle school is for right? Boy Meets World, you got my hopes up. The whole relationship thing has never worked out for me. It's sad, I just now expect for guys to not be interested in me. Perhaps in my youth I was too forward, too aggressive about boys. I knew what I wanted and though I wasn't really sure how to go after for I wanted, I just went, full speed ahead. I was a gutsy kid. I asked a boy out to the movies when I was 11 years old. He said no, but he was nice about it, which is probably not how all 11 year old boys would have responded. From age 11 until now, at 24 I've dealt with guys rejecting me, or not being available, or having a girlfriend already. My plan for a family and a career by 25 was ruined.

By the time I was 16, I knew what I wanted to do career wise. I knew that comedy was in my future in one way or another. Since I didn't have any boys doting on me, I became driven. When I was 16, the dream was (and hell, still is) Saturday Night Live. I was known in my drama class for writing original character pieces. I'd fall down the stairs and sing musical parodies. I'd have characters that were pregnant teenagers, and drunk girls at a party. I was a hit in drama class, all three years of it. That's where I discovered I was funny. Unless they were in my drama class, most people I went to school with probably wouldn't describe me as funny. Anyway, I knew this is what I wanted. I never understood how people had trouble figuring out what they wanted to do with their lives. It was always so clear to me. Just do what you love right? Isn't it that simple? I was writing monologues all the time in class. I was always thinking about what I could do next in class.

After high school was hard. I didn't have drama class anymore. I had no outlet to perform. I read somewhere that if you want to get into comedy, any part of comedy, you should do stand up- at least for a bit. I was 18 and I thought stand up would be impossible. I had been writing comedy from the point of view of a character I had made up. How the hell was I suppose to write jokes from MY perspective? I inquired about an open mic in my neighborhood, but it was at a bar and I was too young to be let into the bar. Over the next 2 years I was depressed. I didn't want to do anything, and that's exactly what I was doing with my life. Not performing was killing me. I finally did something about and at 20 years old I started doing stand up, and have been ever since.

I've been doing stand up about as long as Megan has been a mother. It's kind of crazy that I can watch my comedy career grow at the same pace as Piper. As I watch Piper grow into an amazing kid with such a spunky personality, I can see that my comedy has taken on a personality of its own as well.

Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I got to have the husband and kids by this time in my life. Would it be the life that Megan has? Would I be able to balance both career and family? I've always been a person that wants it all. Have you ever done those, Make your own Sundaes? They have all the toppings out; gummi bears, chocolate chips, caramel sauce, hot fudge, whipped cream, oreo, coconut shavings... I have to stop, this is making me hungry. But you get the point. I want it all on my sundae. I wonder if I can handle it all, career and a family. I want to. I'd be an awesome wife. I bake and I could cook and just be amazing. I'd be a kick ass mom too. And being pregnant? I can just picture myself getting on a stage at 8 months pregnant, and saying, "Do these pants make me look fat?" God, I could write a lot of good pregger jokes. And when I get pregnant, whenever that may be, I'm gonna eat that damn sundae with all of those toppings. (Who am I kidding, I'm going to the store now to get the fixings)

Hoarder in Traning

I fear that I am a Hoarder in training. I finished moving out of my apartment today. Shout out to Jason, Dave, and my sister Meghan! You are awesome! Most of my "things" I moved already to my parent's house. Today was 99% furniture into a storage unit. I'm just in between apartments for the next couple of weeks. I'm really hoping to get this great studio in-law for a low price, but it's up to the owner now.

I have so much stuff for one person! I got rid of a bunch of my clothes already- that was really hard to do. It's mostly because I'm poor. I think, maybe I'll want to wear this someday, so I should keep it. I have a lot of little things too, like random stuff. I don't know why I can't just throw them away. Perhaps I think they show off my personality, but I don't own a home. I need to learn to be a minimalist.

I am too exhausted to continue writing, but I did write a bit. Kudos to me. And Kudos to you too!

In short, I'm trying to take the steps now to prevent me from becoming a crazy hoarder, because I could do a lot of hoarding damage. A LOT.

Jumping in the Pool

I briefly mentioned in the first post that I plan on making a move down to Los Angeles in early 2012. This specific plan was made a few years ago, but technically, I've been telling myself that I'll move to Los Angeles since I was 18 years old. I'll be 25 this fall and I haven't even come close to moving there. I wanted to go to LA after high school because I wanted to take classes at The Groundlings, an improv/sketch company that had launched the careers of many SNL cast members and other comedic actors and actresses. I was hoping that training there would do the same for me. Unfortunately I'm horrible with money and even though I was a working girl, (Workin' 9 to 5, what a way to make a livin'... sorry I just had to) I never saved any money. I didn't move out on my own until I was 23. Now I still have the same LA dream, only it's bigger. I still want to go to The Groundlings, but since I am a stand up comedian, it opens up more opportunities for me to perform and be seen by agents and managers; ya know, the people who make things happen.

A few weeks ago I saw that there was an opening with my day job in the LA area. My company has a pretty big operation down there so there's a lot of openings there throughout the year. On a whim, I applied. My heart was racing when I clicked the SEND button. What was I getting myself into? Am I ready to make this step? Even though I'm currently in no position to move to the other side of the state, the fact that I was putting this out there in the universe was a lot to handle. I had a talk about this before with a friend. It was one of those, 5AM conversations that are amazing, but you're so tired you can't remember the specifics the next day. He basically said that he thought I would do well in LA and that it wouldn't be a bad thing to start thinking about moving there. He believed that I could succeed there. I don't think he noticed but I was crying. I wasn't crying hard, like when you see The Notebook and you just let all of your guards down and cry with your whole body until your friends tell you to shut up (True Story). I just had a couple of tears stream down my face in perfect formation as if I was in a movie. Anyway, I was crying because he believed in me. I don't know how many people actually believe in me. I know my friends and family want me to succeed, but I don't know how much they believe in me. I know how skeptical my family was when I told them I was going to be a comedian. I know I believe in myself and it's exhausting to feel like you're the only one with faith. Finally, here was someone who was on my side, championing me on to the next level. I honestly feel that people don't know what I'm capable of and it's frustrating. I feel like that runty kid in the neighborhood that wants to play stickball with the bigger kids, but they think he'll lose the game for them. "Come on guys! Lemme get a swing, just one swing! I know I can do it!" That little runty kid will never get a chance to play unless one of the bigger kids give him a shot. It really does take just one person to vouch for you to restore your faith. Part of me wants to just tell everyone I know that I am going to succeed and I am going to make my dreams come true- the power of positive thinking. But there's a part of me that thinks, "Well, that's what Jenna Somebody said on her American Idol interview and she was laughed out of the audition room. What if I don't make it? I'm going to look like an idiot." It's why I never signed my yearbooks, "Save the autograph, it'll be worth a lot of money some day." I have a couple of those in my yearbooks from high school, and I don't think I could get much for them. I never want to promise something I can't deliver. I feel like I'm off track... anyway, this conversation got me thinking about taking the next step in my career.

Fear stops us from doing a lot of things. It can stop us from finding out if that guy you like feels the same way about you. Fear can stop us from doing something daring, like jumping out of a plane. Fear can stop us from taking chances, taking risks, which is awful, because if you're taking a risk then it must be worth it. Fear paralyzes us from living. I am scared shitless when I think about moving to Los Angeles, and it's not just one thing that scares me. I worry that I'm not ready and that my career will not only not flourish, but suffer because of the move. I'm scared to hit rock bottom so hard that I'm ashamed to come back home to my parents and start my life over. The thing that scares me the most is that I've met someone so amazing and I'm so afraid that he'll forget about me if I leave.

I know you can't tell how long it takes me to write my sentences, since clearly you can't read this in real time, but it took me a bit to finish that last sentence. It's really hard for me to talk about, but I don't have very many friends. Sure, I know a lot of people, and I'll hang out with them, but as far as friends go- someone who you can call if you need anything- I have few. So moving away from him and my other few friends, I feel like it would break me. I would feel alone.

I feel I'm at a crossroads. I have to do what's going to help my career, but I also want to be happy. Am I not allowed to have both? Is this MY Sophie's Choice? How am I supposed to choose between being comfortable & happy, or moving down to LA hoping that I can make my dreams come true, when I can't be certain that they will?

When I go swimming, I have to slowly get acclimated to the temperature of the water. I stand on the steps until the water covers my feet, then my ankles, and I'll slowly get in the pool. Other people just cannonball into the water. I want to cannonball. I want to be able to just pick up and move to LA and work towards my goals. I'm so nervous about it not working out that I want to make sure everything will fall into place. I want to be able to transfer with my day job so I know I can pay rent. I want to be sure that I can find gigs and club owners that will book me. And most importantly, I want to know that the bonds I've made with others won't fade away. I want to know that if I jump in the pool I won't belly flop, or even worse, drown.

Here's the dick joke I promised you:

There's a blonde and a brunette in an elevator with a guy wearing a black shirt, and has a lot of dandruff. He leaves the elevator on the next floor. After the doors close behind him the brunette says, "Boy, somebody needs to give him some Head & Shoulders!" After a few seconds the blonde says, "How do you give Shoulders?"

I never said it would be original or good... but there you have it.