December 30th, 2015

Pregnancy scares bring out every couples true colors. 36 hours ago, my colors were blazing.

Monday night, I went to Columbus. I was celebrating my oldest friend Lily's birthday with our friend Robin. We had a fantastic time eating gigantic sandwiches and laughing over old times. It was a splendid evening with good company. The whole time, though, I had another reason for going to the capitol of Ohio. One word: Charles. The C word met us at the Dube after all of our giggles started to get tired. He came in like he always does with shifty eyes and hands in his pockets. It's always nerve wracking when your boyfriend is meeting your friends. It's even more nerve wracking when your ex-boyfriend/current lover is meeting your conservative christian friends. As usual, it took time to warm up but within 10 minutes we were all laughing and joking. Soon, it was time for my friends to go back to reality in New Carlisle. I said goodbye to them and walked to Charles' apartment with my book bag full of clothes and toiletries.

Romance and nudity ensued for a couple of hours. We missed each other and it was very evident in our frustration about his roommate wanting to hang out. At roughly 2am, we were "going at it" and I hear a noise so terrifying, it sends shivers up your spine. The condom broke as he was blasting off. A panic ensues and I run to the bathroom to "wash it out" which my many health classes have taught me doesn't really work. But hey, this is a pregnancy were talking about. I've got too many things I'd like to do to my body, like eat sushi and smoke cigars when other people have "planned" babies. My hot, young life flashed before my eyes in a way it never had before. After I finished my pointless washing, I went back downstairs and hugged Charles with all the muscles in my arms and body. He reminded me of Plan B and we began to breathe again. But the breaths came with fears. We began realizing that we were playing with fire here. Not just by having sex with only one form of protection, but emotionally. We began to wonder why we were still pretending like this relationship was normal. Every time I came into town, we would play house for a couple of days and then went back to our lives alone. We started realizing that we weren't sure whether we were doing "this" because we actually care about each other or whether we were doing "this" because we were lonely and wanted to pretend that we have someone even if it's just for a little while.

After tears and threats of walking out, we decided that night would be our last for a long time. We decided we needed to do some soul searching away from each other. Though we were no longer together, we had been talking regularly since our break up, as you've heard in this blog. This "accident" made me realize that I love my life right now more than him. I need to know what life would be like without anyone to think about romantically. As I keep claiming, comedy is my one true love.

By the end of this conversation, I wasn't sad with this decision. I just wanted to spend another day with him before the end. I told him I was staying and we went to sleep.

The next day was amazing. We hung out with his friends, ate lots of food, and drank lots of alcoholic beverages. As we spent this day together, I started to feel happy with the decision. We both need this. How can I be sad about spending many months with someone who made me happy every moment we were in the same room? I can't so I'll move on. I already did once before. Except this time, it's for real.

So on the date in the title of this blog, we will meet again and see what whole year can do. I miss him dearly but I know, and 4 months in Chicago has proven, I will be okay. 

Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

Gifts from my Valentine

As I'm going through my grieving process, I keep feeling the need to remember Dave in the best way. Though there is lots of anger, I refuse to focus on that. He was my friend and I loved him, so as a friend I need to remember him at his best. Most people say his best attribute was his generosity. He was ALWAYS willing to lend a helping hand in any way possible. He helped me move into my apartment, listened to me cry over boys, and stopped me from over thinking when I was upset with the world. He did a lot for me. He also gave me a lot of stuff. He bought me presents for each Christmas we knew each other and the one birthday we were friends. He gave me a couple of other gifts as well. I want to take a minute and share some of the things Dave gave to me.

-1 copy of Scott Pilgrim VS The World (movie)
-1 bath
-1 vibrator
-99 orgasms via aforementioned vibrator
-7 bowls of rice and chicken
-1 incredible Valentines Day
-2 kisses
-9 compliments on my butt
-1 lesson on the falsehood of jeans in terms of butt size
-60 more years of love for rock climbing
-10-20 free movies
-Countless rides
-1 piece of mind
-20+ frights
-2 heart attacks
-1 broken heart
-100 tears from laughing with him
-1000 tears from living without him
-3 trips to a graveyard
-2 letters he'll never read
-1 friendship worth millions
-1 legacy to honor
-0 more years with him


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"I bathed you"

Dear Dave,

            I don’t know where you are right now. I honestly have no idea. If there is a heaven, you are undeniably there but I’m just not sure. Like I’ve told you before, I really hope there are extreme sports in heaven. Mike recently gave me comfort by reminding me that if there isn't a rock wall in heaven, you are without a doubt building one. You were an adrenaline junkie with a flare for words. You would do things that I couldn’t even imagine doing and then play them back to me with your words. You were a master story teller. You told stories like it was your job, like your life depended on it and any other cliché phrase you want me to use. I try to retell the Tequila Story just like you but I know I never will. That’s okay. I hit the key points that you loved the most. I know you loved when I put the body wash in my hair. Right now, I see you. I can hear your voice repeating this story. I can see your eyes light up when you say, “I bathed you.” Three words that showed exactly how much you needed to take care of someone. I did that for you. I grew out of it though. You took care of me until the day I asked you to stop. I never took care of you and for that I’m so sorry. I was there for you as much as I could be. You showed me so much of the world. You made me independent and brave. Two things I needed. I will never be able to thank you.

           Justin gave me the card from “Edna” last night. He started to “read it” and it took me a second to get who Edna was. Once I realized it, I lost it. Tears were flowing and I was laughing at the exact same time. Edna feels like another friend I lost. As the tradition goes, the cards gets thrown into the audience. After he read the card, Justin looked me in the eye and threw it right to me. Dave, I wrinkled the card I clutched it so hard. It felt like it was really from you. I kept it with me for the rest of the night except once when it touched the Warped Wing’s floor. It’s under my pillow right now.         They would have made you proud last night, Dave. Your stage, like you, supported them and took care of them. It helped them deal with your absence. For an hour they got back to doing what you loved and what they loved doing with you. You would have laughed at them and with them. Calling them out on their inconsistencies and praising them for their genius. I can’t imagine how much better the night would have been with you, Dave. I'll write you again on Tuesday.

                                                                                

                                                                                 Much Love,

                                                                                    Your #2

David Michaels

Yesterday, I was taking a nap that could have arguably been considered a nights rest. When I awoke from this slumber, I had many texts from my good friend Ashley saying to call her asap. I naturally followed the instructions and was met with the heaviest news I've ever received.
"David Michaels passed away."
My jaw dropped. My tears fell. My "what"'s echoed.
I couldn't believe it.

For those who don't know, David Michaels was unlike any other. He was bold, intelligent, daring, idiotic, hilarious, and blunt. David Michaels was the kind of person you want to go into any post apocalyptic situation with. He had a contingency plan for every situation in his car, including a hatchet behind his drivers seat in the Prius.

Oh that Prius. I spent many days and nights in that car with him. Sometimes crying, sometimes laughing. Mostly laughing. He always had a way of cracking me up. I think that was true for everyone. Dave had a way with words and people. That's why he was so great at improv. He was one of the most quick witted people in the greater Dayton area.

Dave had a passion for life. He really did. The phrase, "Lived life to the fullest" doesn't even begin to define him. He took never took no for an answer, even when he probably should have. This passion was one of his greatest attributes and very contagious.

Dave and I were very close for about a year and a half. We were so close that we joked that I felt like I was dating him more than my boyfriends during that period. We climbed together, improvised together, and watched movies together. I slept in his bed, he slept in mine. One of his favorite stories from our friendship is referred to as "Tequila Night". Dave and I finished an entire bottle of tequila in two and a half hours. Dave had eaten a real meal, I had eaten Funyons and Lifesavers gummies. After some very deep talks, I proceeded to lay down on his air mattress in his studio apartment. Moments after, I began vomiting in an almost movie perfect way. My head was turned to the side so there was no fear of choking but I'll remind you that when a person is on an air mattress they sink into it. Thus my vomit felt the need to roll down hill. I hope you're really understand the imagery here. Vomit in my hair, on my clothes and on his sheets. Dave's first reaction was to drag me into the bath room and proceed to bathe me, wash my hair and put me in clean clothes. He changed his sheets and let me go back to sleep. Though that story is crazy and disgusting, it is very telling of Dave's character. He took care of me. No matter how mad I got at him, I knew he loved me and would murder someone for me if I asked. He cared about many people this way.

Dave and I had a falling out in February. He pushed a boundary and I ran as far away from him as possible instead of working it out. My guilt now is overwhelming.  I wish that I could thank him for the summer we spent together and for being a great friend. I really wish I could.

Dave was many things to many people. Performer, employee, lover, teacher, son, ex. But I think we can all agree on one thing. He was a friend. A very good friend. A friend that will be dearly and somberly missed. I wish that he would have known how hurt the city of Dayton, and two apartments in Chicago, are at the news that he will no longer exist in our lives. Maybe that would have helped.

I know you always said, "When I die, I won't care because I'll be dead." but if you were wrong, I want you to know that I'm sorry. I took you for granted and you didn't deserve that. I love you and I hope where ever you are has rock climbing.

Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

The Summer of 2013

This morning, I was having a conversation with my roommate about how writing helps us. As she was reading her poems to me, I was reminded of my writing past. All of a sudden, I had a flashback of writing at Riverscape Park in Dayton. That park was my sanctuary during that difficult summer and I spent many (unsafe) nights and days there writing my feelings. They were all collected in a notebook made for me by my best friend, Cydnie. After I had this epiphany, I jumped up and grabbed it from my shelf and began reading. This journal includes love letters, journal entries, stand up jokes, and a suicide note, written just in case. It was a weird summer. Some of the quotes are funny, some are sad and some are enlightening. They show where I've been and just how far I've come. So I would like to share some of these with you.

"I love coming to Riverscape. It's one of the only places in Dayton that doesn't smell like fecal matter. The flowers cover that up quite nicely. It makes me feel beautiful sitting among the flowers and trees. Like I 'm a part of the scenery. I can clear my head when I'm just scenery. I see so many different people. Families, elderly women, athletic men. All here to escape in some way or another. Even with kids yelling, it's quieter than in my head. I fight with myself. Thinking I don't matter. But I know that isn't true. I have made a difference no matter how small. I have loved and been loved."

"I'm oh so very lonely. I'm so lonely, I'm driving to OSU to bump Matt Ross in a couple of weeks. I feel like I should have sex with my first love. I need to know what he looks like naked and on top of me. I also want to know what it's like to have sex in a dorm bed. Maybe I'm trying to recreate a time when I was happy and innocent, then fuck the shit out of it. I also really want to have dorm room sex. Shoo-ing the roommate, sock on the door, the whole shabang."
(SIDE NOTE: This did not happen!)

"I'm about to watch Cydnie and Kevin perform As You Like It. It's weird to think that a year ago I was sitting in my apartment with no internet or TV and Taylor and Erin were my only "friends" in Dayton. Now I'm sitting in a park alone waiting to watch two of my best friends perform Shakespeare. This may not be the life I imagined but it sure is the one I love. One year ago, I was a virgin. Today, I'm watching the man who took my virginity play a prince and he is one of my best friends." 

 "I just gave a guy a blowjob and I don't even know his last name. This is rock bottom. But I was so drunk. And we had been giving each other "the eyes" all night. But then there's Jimmy."

"I am falling for Jimmy. He's not perfect but he's better than that. He's human."

"Jimmy and I have left the honeymoon phase. Officially."

 "I have been told my whole life, don't worship false idols, only God. But I never understood, until I realized something about myself. I don't worship idols, I fall in love with ideals. By ideals, I mean men that are 'perfect' or 'exactly what I've always wanted.' "

"I want to run away. Because that's what I do. I run. Fast enough that it seems perfect in hindsight."

"I feel like Katie is the sister my brothers always wanted. I am certain they would love a sister who plays sports and loves basketball. But I'm me. I love theater and talking about my feelings."

"May 14th 2013
I had a pregnancy scare last week. It would have been Josh's. I hated not being able to tell Cydnie or Katie but Josh and I vowed to keep our sex life to ourselves. I'm good with that."

"What if I was pregnant? Josh told me he would have stayed and moved in with me. For the first time in a long time, I felt comforted. He kept telling me, either way, we'll be fine. We will make it out alive. He was a man about it."

"Sometimes I think about what would happen if I killed myself. Would people be sad? Would they come to my funeral? What would they say? I hope I've made a difference in someone's life. That's all I want. To make a difference. However that may happen."

"Bucket List 2013
1) Live alone
2) Perform on the Second City stage (CHECK)
3) Be a Second City company member
4) Drink a beer at Lucky's (CHECK)
5) Perform stand up in Chicago (CHECK)
6)Meet Tina Fey
7) See 20 Broadway plays
8) Attend a major award show
9) Be nominated for an Oscar
10) Win an Emmy for writing
11) Be on TV
12) See John Mulaney live (CHECK)
13) See SNL in person (CHECK)
14) Buy my mom a house
15) Quit Target because of improv"


Thanks for listening. Come back for more. 

OVER IT!

For the last couple of months, my incessant bitching about my ex, Charles, seemed exhausting. Every time I would type his name I thought, man people must be sick of me. I hated continuing to hash this out in the public forum, letting you guys watch me break down and admit some of the strongest feelings I've ever had but I felt like I had to. I know that I feel better when my feelings are typed out. That's why you'll find a 10 page document on my computer entitled, "Break Up Poetry Blah Blah Blah." I have to put it down to get it out. It's rather simple. So I wanted to give you one of my first real conclusions.

I'm over that boy now. The one I feared I would never replace. The one I imagined my life with. The one I "loved" more than anyone else. That one. I'm over him. How?, you ask. How is that possible? You talked so much about how in love you were with this man. How does that just go away? I have a simple answer that controlling people will hate: I just did.

I was on the phone with Charles last week and we were talking about something that was upsetting me and I just remember thinking, "This is it. You're done." Not in a, he's a piece of shit, kind of I'm done. Just a "You don't need to worry about this anymore." I was still upset over somethings in our relationship that I was always urked by. Things that were already silly to worried about when you're in a relationship and crazy to worry about when you're not. I realized I was putting a lot of pressure on something that didn't have to be that serious. Our relationship, or lack there of, wasn't enjoyable anymore because I wanted it to be more than it could be. I started to remember myself doing that in other relationships in the past. I remembered why I broke up with most of the men immediately after telling them I loved them. I wanted things to get serious and they didn't. So I felt like they didn't care and/or I stopped caring about them. If they weren't going to be my future, then goodbye. I wasn't interested in enjoying right now. I wanted husband material even though I boasted of not wanting to settle down for a long time. This applies to Charles too. He loved me. I believe that. I hear it in the old voicemails and the texts. But he didn't love me to the same degree. He wasn't looking for a future. He was looking for someone to be with him in those moments. He was living in the moment and he loved me for those moments. He wasn't looking at any rings or cribs because we weren't anywhere close. The problem was, I thought we were. I wanted a commitment so that I knew he wouldn't want to run away. That was something he couldn't give me. We barely knew each other. It makes total sense.

So I moved on. Now when I look at his pictures on Facebook and Instagram, I see an old friend. I no longer get the terrible ache I did before. Break up songs don't stab me as much as before. I know we weren't as wonderful together as I remembered (see 27 Hours: a previous blog post). I know commitment isn't in the plan of me. Comedy might be the only commitment I can make for a while. I know I'm not as important to him as I thought. So I let him go. I tell myself don't forget how you felt then but don't forget what you realized today. Take it slow and just live. Stop trying to plan. Just be 20 year old Sydney. I'll never be her again. Whether that's with or without love. Just be grateful for every breath and life will be good.  The past week has gone pretty well so my theory is proving correct.

Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

Pop Culture

         I’m starting to see the patterns of American culture. Everyone has an opinion on things that absolutely do not matter. Kim Kardashian’s butt, Taylor Swift pulling her music from a free music cite, and how all of those things matter more to us than astronauts landing on a comet. Why waste our breath? I’ve learned to try to say things that either make people laugh or make them think. Talking about those things does neither. I know, I’ve been to the open mics in Chicago. We get it. 

        Let's discuss dat ass (Kim Kardashian's Armenian treasure). Because of our Puritan roots, we’re upset that a woman showed two lumps of fat. If it makes you feel any better, that’s how that woman gets joy. By the amount of likes on her photos, the names on her clothing and the number dollars in her bank account. She is not striving to make a point or change the way the world sees body image. She is striving to make you talk about her. So congratulate her, don’t be mad. We get excited when the people in our real lives accomplish what they want, why not be excited for her? SHE DID IT! Well done Kim! Go eat a cake that costs more than my car and still pay your mortgage every month. I really don’t give a shit.

       But on the other hand with Taylor Swift, we’re mad because she isn’t giving us enough. With Kim, it’s an unsolicited amount of butt and with Taylor it’s a solicited amount of access to her music. Big deal. She made many different pieces of art and expects them to be paid for by the consumer. Let’s get equally mad and burn down all the Targets for making us love their products and purchase them with our hard earned money that we earn to buy their products. HOW DARE THEY! All I’m saying is, if you want the album, buy it, if you don’t, don’t buy it. She made art; whether you think it is or not, is irrelevant. She’s done more than most of us have done in our life times but we’re mad when she doesn’t make it easy to steal that hard work for our own pleasure and Spotify playlists.

         My point with all of this is that I’ve learned not to stress about this silly thing called Pop Culture. I do follow it a bit because I like to be up to date on what’s happening in it, but it does not keep me up at night and it definitely doesn’t consume my Facebook wall. There are so many other things to worry about in our lives. School work, friendships, relationships, finances, family, and even what you’re going to eat for lunch. These are much more worthy topics to worry about. Instead of talking about dat ass, try talking about why we’re on this earth. Instead of posting about T-Swizzle's "selfishness," try asking the person next to you how their parents met. HECK, go to a grocery store and ask the person in the deli what their passion is. I promise that will feel so much better. It will be a connection with a real human being, not the ones that live thousands of miles away that we think we know because they live in our screens on a daily basis. Real people are more interesting. I PROMISE.

Welp. That’s my twice cents (aka the exact amount of money in my checking account), love it or leave it. I know me saying this will not stop you from posting about it on our modern day soap box but I thought I’d get my opinion out there as well.

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Newest Love

Yesterday, I fell in love again. 

At 9:55pm, Ace Thaddeus Courter came into the world.
For those who don't know, Ace is the child of Barbara and Zac Courter of Sidney, Ohio.
Ace rang in at a whopping 9 lbs 12 ounces crashing through his mothers uterus like a wrecking ball.

When I first heard of this babies possible existence, I was shocked to say the least. I remember sitting at a table surrounded by friends I would consider family with my jaw dropped. My best friend from high school was going to be a mom. Wow.

For the entire 7 months I knew of him as a fetus, I resisted him. I was not happy because I didn't understand the happiness they were feeling. How can she be a parent so young? How can she throw away her life so soon? Just how? I didn't understand it. I have been against having children for about a year now. I believe that there is so much pain in this world, why bring another person into it just because a couple wants to "have a family"? I just couldn't grasp it. So I rejected it. I played nice and acted excited. Don't get me wrong, babies are cute and fun and I was excited to see him, hold him, play with him but I wasn't happy with the situation. I couldn't wrap my mind around it. Having a baby only 21 years into your own life is terrifying in my mind but she clearly wanted it. I was so confused for 7 months.

Until I saw that little boy's face. Crying with fluid still covering his eyes. Ace had arrived. The minute I saw his face, I started crying. I have finally come to the realization Barbara did months ago.

Barbara is a mom. She will be a mom until the day she dies and she's going to be a great one. She has so much energy and love for everyone around her. She always has. God blessed her with such an amazing spirit and strength. It inspires me to this day. Now she can focus it on one little person and make him feel loved and cherished. That's really what we all wanted. As children, we all wish our parents loved us more or differently and she has the chance to do that for this little human of her own creation. For this, I am happy. Because of this, I finally understand. If anyone is meant to be a mom, it's her. I'm so blessed to have her in my own personal life and that's how I know that baby is the luckiest little man in the world.
Also, it's not my life. She is walking down an entirely different path than mine. While she's changing his diapers, I'll be changing to go to a party. While she's feeding him peas, I'll be trying to decide which disgusting vegetable I want to consume in the caf. While she's putting him to bed, I'll be waking up to do a night of open mics. That's okay. That doesn't mean we can't be in each others lives. I still love her like a sister. Thus I call myself Ace's puesdo Aunt. She is one of the most amazing people I've ever met and I can't forget that because I don't understand her lifestyle. This is one of the biggest lessons I've had to learn. I'm really happy I learned it because I almost lost her because of my ignorance.

In conclusion (yeah I'm doing that bad essay conclusion), I love Barbara, Zac and Ace as if they were my actual sister, brother-in-law and nephew. I'm so incredibly happy for them and can't wait to be with them in their home in a few short weeks. I'll be counting down the days until I can meet the new little love of my life, Ace Thaddeus Courter.

Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Throughout my life, I've gotten mostly positive feedback.
"You're so funny!", or "You're so engaging!" or the highest of praise, "You're totally gonna be famous one day, I just know it!"

While all of these things are spectacular and so kind, I feel like criticism is hard to swallow. But this post isn't about that. It's about the other side of the spectrum. Insults.

I've never really been insulted to my face when it comes to performance. I don't know what I would do if that happened. Maybe cry, maybe stare, or hopefully scream "FUCK OFF!" in the persons face.

All insults I've received or taken personally have been overheard.

The worst happened today at Improv Club. We were assigned groups after the last meeting and I was put into a group with some very talented people that I respect. I was very excited. I get to work with some improvisers that I admire. What can get better than that?

The better question is, how can it get worse than this?
We did our scene with the classic montage style and it was going okay.

I feel like I should take a second to confess one thing: I'm struggling with improv. Truly. I'm having a hard time with it most days. I'm in classes and am continuing to perform and practice but I'm struggling. I'm not as good as I want to be. But I know if I just keep going, I'll get better and enjoy it more. But right now, I'm slightly insecure about my abilities.

Now with that being said, I'll go back to my previous statement.
We did our scene with the classic montage style and it was going okay. Scene were funny but not hilarious and I was trying my best. I was doing all the things I'd been learning over the past 10 weeks and I was feeling okay. The final scene was between me and one of the people I admire. We'll call him Improviser 1. We were having a normal conversation which is boring to watch but necessary to find the meaning of the scene. Eventually, another improviser came on and made a joke that landed and really heightened the scene. We'll call him Improviser 2. Yay for labeling.But the scene was awesome with that addition. Then someone called scene and the show was over. We all took a bow. I felt okay about the 8 minutes and exited the stage.
BUT as I contently walked to my seat, my ear caught this.
Improviser 1 to Improviser 2 exasperatedly, "Thanks for that."

In my ear, at that moment, I heard, "Thanks for saving me from that scene."

I was devastated. I was an improviser that my scene partner needed to be saved from. Ouch. I had to fight the tears.  I mean I know the scene wasn't going well, but it's not like I walked on stage and said, "You're my brother, lets have sex!"

I'm trying my damndest not to take this so personally but it's proving difficult.
I'm not the best improviser but I'm trying. I'm listening and heightening and FUCKING TRYING.

I mean no ill will to the Improviser 1. I'm just realizing that I'm headed straight into a world I've never been before. A world where no one is going to respect me until I show them I can be respected. It's an odd realization but one that needed to be shared.

I will use this experience to fuel me. I will be better next time. I will make stronger choices and be more interesting. I will be better. Because apparently trying isn't good enough.

Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

27 Hours

Charles visited me this weekend. I'm sorry. Not the whole weekend. He stayed last night. He drove through the night to Chicago likes some 70s rock anthem and arrived at Plymouth Court around 7am. When I saw him across the street, my heart and body leaped in the air. Especially my body; hopefully he didn't see me. He ran across the street with his hands in his pockets, as we locked eyes. Smiles grew, and the people around us disappeared. I walked towards him with haste and intention. We said, "hello" like little kids with crushes and he picked up and spun me around. A cinematic dream. Kissing on the street, like the people I scoff at, all of the anxiety of this visit went away. He was with me. That's all that mattered.

For the record, we are not together and we won't be getting back together unless we live in similar zip codes. But him cumming---WHOOPS I meant, coming...or did I?
ANYWHO, him arriving in Chicago means we're still in each others lives. In a middle ground between friends and dating, we have declared ourselves lovers. Like a historical film, I write him letters, and (months later) he responds. We don't really know where this relationship will end up but I don't think either of us are really that concerned. 

That being said, we did all the things couples do; we drank coffee, ate meals, "napped". But I didn't feel the way I thought I would upon his arrival. I still love with this kid, don't get me wrong. But I feel like distance really does make the heart grow fonder. I had dreamed him up to be the love of my entire life. I'm realizing that may not be true. He is the love of my life so far. I'm not saying the visit was bad. I had a wonderful night. We saw a show at Second City, smoked in Grant Park, and slept together (in all meanings of the phrase). I had a blast! I'm just saying that the connection I had missed so much was not as strong in person. This is a freeing realization. He is the second love of my life and hopefully not the last. That's something I never would have said a month ago.

This is short post because I'm going to cry about him leaving. It's very sad. It's a strange feeling to not be lonely for 27 hours. It was wonderful and now that he's gone, loneliness is back and that's fine. This is one of the sacrifices I have to make for a life in comedy. I'm okay with it but that doesn't mean I don't take time to grieve. I will cry myself into an actual nap, wake up, go to rehearsal and go on with my life. I believe this thinking will keep me sane.

Really quickly, I would like to plug the song that describes this situation better than any words I could spit onto a page. If you're bored or going through long distance bullshit, take a listen to City Song by Emmy the Great. My favorite lyric is, "And what will you look like when you're old? What will I do if I don't know you? I guess that I decided not to ask the day I took the road down to the city as it called." Check it out. It's so accurate, it hurts.

I just want to challenge anyone whose reading this, who feels the same way, to really look at the relationship in question. Did you really feel whole with this person? Are they really your everything? Can you live without them? If not, aren't you alive right now? So keep doing you. Keep working, studying, dancing, laughing, crying, loving every minute of this beautiful life you've been given. Just keep going. It will feel better one day whether that person is by your side or not. I can't promise but I can say I believe it with all of my heart. Sometimes that's all you need.

Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

Break Up BLAH BLAH BLAH

I told my ex he's forbidden from this blog, so here's some of my favorite break up lyrics of all time.

"Been kissed by lady luck, the stars are all lined up, every arrow that I aim is true. I got a smile on my face, it's the best one I can fake, I'm as happy as half a heart can be, but I miss you."
-Kacey Musgraves

"Just to put your mind at easy, you don't owe me anything, you paid me well in memories, and I think of you whenever life gets me down, I think of you whenever you're not around." -A Fine Frenzy

"Is there a chance a fragment of light at the end of the tunnel, a reason to fight? Is there a chance you may change your mind, or are we ashes and wine?" -A Fine Frenzy

"We had a skydive love affair doomed from the very start." -Grace Potter and the Nocturnals

"And what will you look like when you're old, what will I do if I don't know you? I guess that I decided not to ask the day I took the road, down to the city as it called." -Emma the Great

"I'm tryinna remember your face in my hands, I want an adventure, you met my demands, I told myself the day I left, I want it but I can't. I fell for something far away again. I guess that it's pointless, but I mean what I say. I never expected through all this time that I could be okay. Yeah all the things you do to me, the promise and the pain, I wish with all my heart that I could stay."
-Allison Weiss

"My love's too big for you, my love." -Ingrid Michaelson

"And I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep, and I'll feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe." -Taylor Swift

"Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echos, tell myself it's time now gotta let go, but moving on from him is impossible and I still see it all in my head, burning red." -Taylor Swift

"You be gone and I'll be happier." -A Fine Frenzy

"In dreams, I meet you in warm conversation. We both wake, in lonely beds, in different cities. And time is taking it's sweet time erasing you, and you've got your demons and darling they all look like me." -Taylor Swift

"And all my friends say I'm doing so well, I'm being so brave, as far as anyone can tell, I'm fine. I miss you all the time. I'm fine. I miss you all the time." -Allison Weiss


Thanks for listening. Come back for more. 

Two Years with a Popped Cherry

Two years ago today, I lost my virginity to a guy I barely knew. He invited me to a cast party and I thought, it must mean he's in love with me. So I gave him my v card. A true love story.

Until he actually didn't even like me like me. I cried for a long time and regretted my decision of losing it while drunk with someone who didn't even know my middle name. It was a very painful experience because I had held onto my virginity like a prize. Then someone took it without even playing the game. I didn't feel like a woman. I felt like a little girl again. Out of control of my feelings. I felt like I didn't have control anymore. Keeping my virginity locked up gave me control over myself and relationships. The minute I started having sex, that control was gone.

Since that time, I have been sexually active. I'll tell you right now that it's like a floodgate. You can't undo it. I've had a couple of one night stands, a couple of fuck buddies, and a few relationships. In the past two years, I'm proud to say that I'm glad I lost my virginity the way I did. Thanks to that, I learned that sex doesn't equal love. I learned that I deserved better than that. I learned that sexuality is a personal choice and no one but me gets to decide what that means to me. Though I had my problems with my sexuality for a long time, I have come to love the "sexy" side of me. Until this summer, I felt ashamed of my sex life. I would cry a lot after sex. I felt like I had to do it to make men want to be with me.

Then my favorite ex-boyfriend helped me realize that I don't have to do anything I don't want to. It's up to me to decide if I think sex is shameful or healthy. He gave me time to figure that out and didn't pressure me. I made the decision myself. I made the decision that sex is just sex. It feels good but it's not as important as actually caring about someone. Like I said earlier, sex doesn't equal love. Love equals love. In my opinion, sex is just a product of it. For me personally, I'm more interested in having someone entertaining to talk to than having someone to have sex with. But I'll tell you one thing, sex is THE BEST when it's with someone you care about. Holy shit. It's good. So I'm waiting for someone who actually interests me. That doesn't mean that people who enjoy the act of sex shouldn't do it. I praise those people for doing exactly what they want. But I don't foresee any one night stands in my future.

Now I sit in at my desk hundreds of miles from the crime scene where my virginity was stolen but only a few miles from the thief. Though our relationship started out really weird, I can honestly say my virginity stealer is one of my best friends and has helped me through so many struggles in the last two years. From this "terrible" experience, I gained self-worth, confidence in my sexuality and best of all a friend. I honestly couldn't ask for more.

Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

Mediocre

It's getting hard ladies and gentlemen. I've been here for a month and I feel like I'm drowning. School work feels overwhelming and I feel like I'm already disappointing people. I look at everyone around me, thinking they're above me. I can't help but have the feeling that they can see that I'm not as good as them. Like it's printed across my forehead.

Honestly, those feelings were nowhere to be found when I first got here. Everything was still like camp. I went out and met people and laughed a lot. Things were easy because no one was asking me to do actual work. I was confident in my abilities because I had told myself to be confident. But I wasn't being honest with myself. I'm not as good at improv as I thought I was coming in. I feel like since I've gotten here, I've realized how much better should be. I keep telling people I'm a junior when in all reality, I'm a sophomore. I didn't do enough at my other college to be considered a junior. I hate it when people ask me that question because I lie to their face. I can't stand it but I still do it. Honesty is my policy and I'm breaking it. For one of the first times in my life, I'm lying to try to make myself feel better. Well newsflash, I don't feel any better.

The bad thoughts have come back. I'll be watching an improv scene and think, "Wow, you'll never be that good. Why don't you just go and end it now? You'd rather be dead than mediocre." But then I think about it and decide I shouldn't. I convince myself that I will be one day. I'll feel and be better one day. I promise myself. That's how I make it through.

I'm really bad at asking for help. I think that's why I feel like I'm drowning. I feel like I have to do all of this alone and if I ask for help, I'm cheating. But asking for help is the best thing a person can do. I need a life raft and I just need to be vulnerable enough to ask for it. If I don't, it might be the end of me.

But, I'm not defined by my fears. I didn't move to Chicago to get consumed by my fears. I moved to Chicago to face them head on. That's why I called the counseling services here at Columbia and I have an appointment tomorrow. I'm not sure if this will help but I know it's the first step.

I apologize that this blog isn't as uplifting as it once was but like I said, honesty is my policy. Life isn't the sunshine and rainbows it was a month ago when no one was challenging me. If I can survive this time, I truly believe I will thrive.

Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

Make It Stop

This summer, I had a passionate romance with a very nice man named Charles. For three months, he made me very happy and sad at the same time. The sadness came from the fact that this relationship would only be 3 months long. On August 20th, we broke up. The following week, I finally accomplished my dream of studying comedy in Chicago. My greatest accomplishment in life was shadowed by the terrible pain of this short relationship.

In the months before meeting Charles, I was lonely and searching for a reason to continue. I was taking steps towards the life I'd always wanted but never felt like it was real. I was numb to everything around me. Good, bad and the ugly. Especially the good. It was hard for me to connect with anyone on a personal level.

Charles came into my life like a lightening bolt. He lit up my skies. He showed me just how beautiful life can be. He showed me the meaning of companionship. He made me feel like I belonged to something greater than myself. But fun fact about lightening: as quickly as it comes, it goes. When lightening leaves you are only left with what you think it looked like. Slowly over time, the vivid image becomes blurry. You start to forget what was so exciting about it in the first place.

To this day, I can't remember what his face looks like. I look at pictures when I'm doing my daily stalking, and think, I don't even know who that is anymore. It's only been a month and I feel like he's a completely different person. It's like he's dead to me. Even when we do text or speak, it's like he's a phone. A charismatic, witty phone. A phone that makes me laugh about the idea of folding clothing. A phone that makes me cry when it says it has to go.

Well I'm still madly in love with this phone. Which is unfortunate because after a break up, I always want to be mad at my ex. I want him to have done me wrong. I want to say, "I don't need his shit anyway!" But that's not the case with this one. I left. I pursued my dream. He stayed the same. Which is why it's so hard to fall out of love with that. We are both so young. We both want to do some amazing things before we settle down. We can't go around making life long commitments in our early 20s.

But he's the first person I've felt connected to in a long time. So how do I give that up like it was just a summer romance? Honestly, I'm asking whoever is reading to help me. I have no moral to this blog. Just a request. Help me understand this.

In all honesty, Chicago is everything I thought it would be and more. Good and bad. 99.5% of my day I'm thinking about comedy and school and friends. Honest. But when I think about him, like when I see someone on a bike or when I see the letters CW (his name to the majority of people who know him except my friends) inscribed in all of the manhole coverings. When that happens, I have a terrible PTSD flashback and have to pull myself together within a couple of seconds. The worst is when I'm in my bed at night and it's dark and it's quiet and I have nothing to distract me so all of the memories come flooding back in. When will this stop? Will it ever stop? And most importantly, do I want it to stop?

Maybe in a week I'll post anything blog with the title, "OVER IT!" Maybe I'll remember only the bad memories for a change. Maybe I'll hate him. But I highly doubt it.

Thank you for listening. Come back for more.

Am I Enough?

For the past 2 months, every person I talked to told me they were proud of me.

"You're so brave."
"I could never do that."
"You're gonna be on SNL, I just know it."

I was happy to know that people thought such wonderful things but I had a hard time believing it was true. I won't know for a long time whether or not I made the right decision pursuing a life in comedy. One thing I do know, I didn't believe them.

I watch all these other comedians and actors doing some really incredible work. Original, hilarious work. When I see that, I wonder if I'll ever find what fulfills me as an "artist". Not to mention if I can make money from it. As an actor/comedian, I am my product. That's a terrifying realization. It leads to a lot of doubts about yourself. "Am I funny enough?" "Am I smart enough?" "Am I bold enough?"

But recently when asking myself those questions, I noticed one overwhelming question that encompasses every doubt. "Am I enough?"

Today I proudly say yes.

Though I have no idea what my life will look like in 5 years, I have faith it will be exactly where I'm meant to be.

2 years ago, I was starting school at Sinclair Community College with a chip on my shoulder. I wished I was going away to school like the rest of my friends from high school. They were having so much fun and I was stuck in Dayton.

Fast forward, to right now. I sit in my bed the night before my first class at Columbia College Chicago and know that those two years were the best thing that ever happened to me. I wouldn't be here today if I wasn't there first. I hit rock bottom in those two years and realized a lot of hard life lesson you can only learn from experience. Thanks to the last two years of my teenage years, I know that pain is inevitable which is why it is so important to always fight for the things you love. Whether that's a person or a career, you must give it your all. I'm still working on that but at least I'm working. I know I'm not anywhere near ready for Comedy Central or SNL but I have faith that if I keep trying, one day I will be doing exactly what I'm meant to be doing. Even if I'm not sure what that is right now.

So as I start classes tomorrow, I will remember that I'm not here to be the best, I'm here to learn and grow and become the person I'm supposed to be.

Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

Letters from the Train

Dear Super Attractive Guy in Scrubs,

          I hope you understand how hard I am fighting the urge to touch you on any part of your body. I could put my hand on the bar and pretend it was an accident and giggle when you look at me confused. You're so cute when you're confused. What's that? I'm cuter. OH STAHP. I just want to lay a hand on that baby soft skin. Those freckles make me want to praise Jesus for your creation. I will never know if you're gay but I'd really appreciate it if you weren't. Us women need you on our side.
          I'm noticing now that you're wearing hair gel to get that "Just Rolled Out of Bed" look. Which leads me to ask, can I roll out of your bed sometime? This doesn't have to be a one time request. I can roll a couple of times or just stay perhaps. I imagine you make a mean blueberry pancake. But I'll only stay for the pancakes if you like to laugh. If you goat remixes aren't your thing then I'll roll once and tell you good day. Actually I would say great day. The kind of day where I don't have a walk of shame but I stride of victory. I scored your sexy ass. I will walk with my chin up with make up running down my face and heels in hand I will greet onlookers with a smile and a wink.

 OH! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA JK YOUR GIRLFRIEND JUST CALLED JKJKJK HAHAHA!
                             Don't forget to grab milk. It better be organic. She gets gassy.

                                                                                                                      Sincerely,
                                                                                                                    Sydney Back
                                                                                                          (aka the one that got away)

Toxic Mold

I'm very blessed. I'm an American woman raised in a middle class home with the ability to receive a college education with little to no struggles. My life hasn't had many obstacles. ADD and daddy issues are all I can claim as trials. So I repeat I am blesssed. Some might even say #blessed.

So how has my life been a struggle for the past couple of years? Why have I been majorly depressed and on the verge of extinction? And most importantly, why do I feel so great now?

I think I'm blessed for a completely different reason that I'm going to explain to you with metaphors and proper grammar. 

In high school, I was a part of many different friend groups. If I found people I liked I would pursue them. One of the groups was upperclassmen who were highly intelligent and highly artistic, another loved screamo music and angsty statuses, and another were significantly older than me and loved to eat pancakes in the dead of night. These groups of people were all wonderful and are people that I would still love to see and hang out with on occasion but I never felt like I could totally be myself. Now I'm not saying they are the reason for this. They were all very welcoming and enjoyed my company but we never loved each other on a deep level. The kind of love close friends should have. I suppose they weren't really my close friends.

My close friends were people I took for granted for 4 years. Barbara, Lily, Alison and eventually Robin, were the people that I now know are my close friends. When I was with these girls, my life didn't feel like a struggle. It felt a carnival ride. Sticky, expensive, and looks like it could fall apart at any moment but damnit I was laughing and they were in the seats next to me. Honestly, the summers I spent with them will be the fondest in my memory. I was never sure why they made me feel so great or why I had so much fun with them every time. Even when we weren't on the best of terms, we could brighten each others days.

So when they left for college and we grew apart, I didn't have anyone. I had friends at Sinclair but not like them. Losing them and coming to terms with the problems within myself made life a struggle for 2 years.

But as the world continues revolving, my life continued. I met other people who made me feel like the many friend groups I've had. I was just there. I would commonly have panic attacks because I felt so bad about myself and no one to talk to about it. I made a lot of mistakes in that point of my life. I hurt a lot of people that I considered friends because I was selfish and thought I wasn't effecting anyone but myself. It was a learning period in my life that was difficult but invaluable.

While in this period of learning, I had one friend that was along for the ride. For those who don't know, I have a best friend named Cydnie. Weird, I know. I promise our shared name isn't the only reason I love her. She gives me the same feeling that my high school friends gave me. We have lots of fun together but she's also there for the shitty parts of life. She's knows the color and texture of my puke better than anyone else!

Last August, Cydnie moved to New York to follow her dreams soon after we became besties without testies. Though I'm so proud of her and support her 100%, I still had another year at Sinclair without her. I felt like I had to start over. I moved back in with my mom, started taking school more seriously, and took some serious time to discover myself. I started to realize, with some inspirational words from THE Jason Hanrahan, that people who make me feel like that aren't worth my time. Especially at this point in my life. College is when you start to grow up and part of growing up is getting rid of the toxic parts of your life and focus on the parts that challenge you to be better. For me, that meant people.

Since that time, I've successfully removed the toxic mold from my social life and gave it a new paint job. Last night I had a party with almost all of my friends. I laughed, I ate lots of popcorn and I vomited. It was just like any other party but at some point I looked around that room and realized, I have gotten to a place were no one is toxic in my life. That night, I was surrounded by people that only want the best for me. They encourage me to be my best and always have my back, or my hair when I'm bent over a toilet. People that love me for exactly who I am, all the good, bad and the ugly, and don't ask me to be anything I'm not. I was so overwhelmed I threw up. It had NOTHING to do with the 6 woodchuck and empty stomach. It was gratitude.

As I think of moving to Chicago and leaving these wonderful people, I remember how I had the same feeling with I graduated high school and those friends left. All I know is that, I will never forget what it feels like to be loved this much. I know that from here on out, I will avoid getting too close to people that don't love me for me. I encourage everyone to do the same. If I'm a toxic person in your life, I encourage you to drop my ass. I will understand.

Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

What is love?

What is love? [(baby don't hurt me) Sorry, I couldn't resist]

But seriously. 1) What is it? 2) Does it exist? 3) If yes, then why?

All questions I ask myself regularly. Especially now with it crashing into me like a wave.

When I was lonely my answers would have been:
1) I have no fucking idea.
2) Not for me.
3) I said NOT FOR ME!

For months, I was getting to know myself. I still am and always will be but during this time in my life, it consumed me. I stopped being the person I was to find out about who I am. That makes no damn sense. I began writing more and more. I started this beautiful blog. I put my journey on this blog because I needed to know I wasn't alone. The responses I have received have not only been gratifying but also showed me that when you're honest, people really want to connect with you. This is a life lesson that I hope to keep for years to come. But I was still angry. I was angry because couldn't remember what love was. I had it at some point about 2 years ago but it burned down in flames. Since then I had a string of maybe's but I always knew they wouldn't work out. So I told myself I refuse to settle again. I would rather be lonely. I would rather die alone then be with someone who doesn't make my heart sing. I started to become a Liz Lemon, certain love would never happen again and rolling my eyes at it. I focused on work and my craft but still had a void. I was no longer looking for someone to fix me. I was doing that myself. I was looking for someone to hear me and see me. Remind me what love is. Remind me how to, please excuse the cheesiness, feel again.

Well ladies and gentlemen, I know what love is again. He came into my life suddenly and will leave just the same but he is here now. That's really all I can ask for.
Now I'm not saying that the presence of this man in my life changed my life and now everything is fine and dandy and I no longer have a care in the world. NO. That's not love. Love opens your eyes. Shows you different parts of the world. Teaches you things. He's not perfect and he hasn't made my life perfect. He reminded me that life is to be lived. He reminded me that I can be loved. I can be held and cherished without having to do anything but hold and cherish him. He reminded me not to take anyone or anything for granted. I have friends and family that also love me and I can't neglect them because they aren't a cute boy. I want cherish them too. I'm leaving them as well. He has reminded me of a lot things I don't think I would have learned by myself.
I could go on for hours about how great I think he is and how bad the timing is but I won't. I enjoy his company and I know the feeling is mutual. That's the only certainty I need. So I will go on with my life after him like I did before him. The only difference is the lessons I've learned learned from him will stay with me. I can never thank him enough for that.

So you want my answers now? Thank you for asking. Here they are:
1) What is love?
 I'm still not certain but I'm doing everything possible to figure it out.
2) Does it exist?
Does Facebook still offer poking?
3) If yes, then why?
Because we're both very lucky, I guess.


Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

The Dayton Days are Over!

In April of 2014, I found out that I would be attending Columbia College Chicago in the fall for Comedy Writing and Performance. I woke up to the email on a Thursday morning filled with joy and by that night I was screaming and crying in my car wondering if it'll be worth it. The excitement wore off that quickly. I didn't even have a full day of bliss. Why? Well that's what I'm going to bring light to in this blog that only gay men and stay at home moms read.

Thursday morning, I am awakened by my alarm like every other morning. I look at my phone to turn the alarm off and notice an email icon in the corner. I open it to find "You're IN!" I screeched like a bad set of brakes and proceeded to tell my mom and post a status on Facebook. Though everyone I encountered that day greeted me with smiles and yelps, I responded with what felt like fake smiles and unenthusiastic yelps but I couldn't understand why.

Then I went to work in the costume shop. I told my boss and mentor that I got into Columbia and her reaction was the one I craved all day. She congratulated me but also said that this isn't the end. She told me, this is where the work begins. The next step is getting the degree. The next step after that is getting a job. The next step after that is keeping that job and so on. She reminded me that one accomplishment doesn't mean I should slow down. There are always more things to be striving for. I really appreciate these words.

Later on that day, we had a formal in the Black Box at Sinclair. I put on a beautiful dress, curled my hair and danced until it was straight again. It was a great to be able to dance out all of the nervousness of the day. Especially when Dog Days Are Over by Florence and the Machines came on. I actually screamed that EVERYONE needed to be on the dancefloor for this song. I requested the song because my high school never played it at my prom. I wanted to dance like a hippie at Woodstock and this song is the closest I would ever get to dancing like that. While I was dancing to this song and singing the words, "Happiness hit her like a bullet in the back of the head." I started to laugh. It had. Happiness hit me so hard that I wasn't sure what to do with myself. Every moment I had worried about getting into Columbia or never making anything of my life was disappearing with every note of that song. I had done it. The dog days of Dayton were over. I realized it wasn't a dream anymore. These were plans. Chicago was in my sights and I just had to dance. The song ended and I thanked everyone for humoring me.

The dancing finished and the formal was coming to an end. As we went to our cars saying, "Meet you at Steak N Shake." with the excitement only college students can have, doubt started to creep in.
I finally had to sit in silence by myself and reflect on the road ahead of me. I took all things into account about working my ass off and following a dream. I knew this is my purpose in life. I still know that. But then I started seeing the faces of my family and friends here. All the people that made me who I am today. All the new friends I'm only just starting to get to know. All the nieces and nephews I'm never going to get close to. I was overwhelmed by this. I felt guilt. I felt anger. I felt helpless. Should I be leaving everyone who loves me for something completely unknown? When I was younger, I wasn't very close with my brothers so leaving wasn't a big deal. Now, I stand on common ground with them as an adult and by "common ground", I mean slight alcoholism. We were just starting to bond. How could I leave that? Both of my brothers got married within the last two years and are trying to start or grow their family. Their families that would only know me as the cool aunt that lives in Chicago. I won't get to know these kids as they grow up. HOW CAN I LEAVE?
As I sat in that Steak N Shake parking lot alone slamming my fists into the dashboard, I realized that these are the kinds of sacrifices I'm going to have to make if I want a life like I've always imagined. I realized that Dayton has nothing for me anymore career wise. This thought gave me peace. I wiped my tears, put on a pretty face and marched into that Steak N Shake with my head high. As I saw my friends, I realized that if I'm leaving in 3 months I won't take any moment for granted.

Now, after a month of preparing to move, I can honestly say I'm ready. I'm ready to start a new life like my brothers. They are having kids and I'm accumulating debt. To be honest, that's exactly how I've always wanted it to be.

So this summer I will be working, hanging out with friends, and maybe even falling in love. I won't be thinking about how sad it is or how much I want to be in Chicago already. I'm going to be living in the moment. Enjoying every second I have with Dayton and everyone in and around it.

Thanks for listening. Come back for more. 

Music to My Ears

Recently, I've been realizing that one day everyone I love is going to die. Even people I don't love will die. Everyone will die. Even me.
But I think about one person particularly. My mom. So I'd like to write down one thing I realized I absolutely love about her today.

My mom taught in the elementary school I went to. She was a fourth grade teacher and was one of the best but of course as a kid I didn't see that. I just saw the stuff that annoyed me. The way she was always in the hallways, the way she was friends with my teachers, the way she knew what bad things I did almost before I did them. All of these things bugged the crap out of me but there was one thing I couldn't stand. I could hear her laughter all the way upstairs. I would cringe every time I heard it. I was embarrassed every time.

As I've gotten older, I stopped being embarrassed of it. I even started to mimic it. I can proudly say, I have a much more distinct laugh than she does now.

But today as my mom and I were watching How I Met Your Mother, I heard her laugh loud and proud like when I was a kid. In that moment I realized that is one of the things I will miss the most when she is gone many MANY years from now. Whether she's laughing at me or a TV show, my mom's laughter is one of the things that genuinely fills me with joy. I try to make her laugh as much as I can because it is like music to my ears. Tonight, it brought me to tears. I hid my face as she said goodnight and walk to her bedroom but I had to write it down. I had to tell the world that my mother's laughter brightens even my saddest days. Her laughter is her. Every thing she is and was comes out in that laugh. Years of struggle and heart ache. Years of happiness. Years of finding herself just like I am right now. When I was just an idea, she was laughing. When I was growing up and hating her laughter, she was laughing. When I'm grown and have my own kids to laugh with, she'll be laughing still. She is such a joyful person and I'm happy that nobody has ever taken that away from her.

So now as I move into my life 6 hours away from her, I will always remember her laugh. I'll hear it in the audiences I perform to. When I hear it I will remember that she is the reason I am alive and doing what I love. I can never thank her enough for that. But I'm certainly going to try.

Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

Yet Another Monologue

I think it’s easier to be lonely when you miss someone. You can think back on the good old days and smile for a second. But I don’t miss anyone. I miss having someone to talk to and touch but that someone isn’t specific. I’ve had a lot of ex lovers but none of them are something to be missed. Or maybe I just can’t remember. I sit and I watch couples. I watched this girl the other day and I could see from the moment I looked at her that she was trying to be lovable. She was giggling and moving slowly. Like she was trying to be a romantic lead. I watched her for a long time. My first thought was to hate her. I started thinking that she was “throwing” herself at him. But then I realized, I just missed that part of me. The me that is trying to look cute and vulnerable. But then I realized she doesn’t exist anymore. Even in my last relationship, she wasn’t there. She is pointless. Worthless. A waste of time. But I miss her very much. I miss seeing a guy and looking like that girl. Sweet, unbroken, completely open. Not me anymore. I’m hard, broken and reserved….Afraid. Lonely. It hits me the worst at night. I have two pillows on my bed. Two pillows. I could put one in the middle or throw the other one off once I get in bed. But no. All the time. Two pillows. They fill the head of my bed like a man would fill my thoughts. Why do I do that to myself? I lay on the left side most of the time. It’s closer to my side table which has my phone. The glowing light makes me feel comforted at night. Until I have to finally put it away. Then I roll over. I roll over and that damn pillow is empty. It glares at me. I try to imagine someone there. Someone I care about. But I don’t care about anyone. Why should I? They’ll just leave. Once they get what they want from me, they’ll be out. So why trouble myself? Deep down I know that but then I look at that pillow and want to be open, and cute again. I pretend someone is there and I laugh. I laugh like he made a really bad joke but I don’t care. He’s too wonderful to call out. I accept him for his corny jokes and flaws. I feel him touch my face as I laugh. It’s warm. But not just on my face. The kind of warm that warms up all of you. Even your insides. I just want to be warm. He makes me warm. Then I feel my arm go numb underneath my body and I lose him. This man. This figment of my imagination. Gone. He doesn’t have a face or a name. Just a feeling. And the feeling disappears as I turn back to my side table. I drift into sleep. Probably a dream about this man. Where we do more than just laugh. We sing and go out. He talks and has face. He touches me again and I feel the same warmth. But then I wake up. Alone. I wipe the drool from my face and I roll over and look at that pillow. Empty. As always. But every time I hope my someone will be there. But he won’t so I get up and make my coffee and look at my already aging face in the mirror. Make some excuse why it’s not as perfect as Leslie’s then accept this is what I look like. This is who I am. And every morning I have to convince myself to fall back in love with this face. Then I go on with my day. Alone. Always alone. 

Gay Agenda

A week ago today, I was asked to partake in a silent protest of a anti-gay speaker. I said of course I would be there. I was under the impression that students from the theater department, alone, would be doing this protest. When I arrived at the venue, the amount of people was overwhelming. "Man, I hope everyone here is to boo this man." I sat down with my fellow classmates and waited. I waited and listened. There was a buzz about the room. I couldn't feel whether it was positive or negative but something was brewing. There was a heaviness.
We were then informed that our speaker was late. Then they made a terrible mistake on their part. They let the audience speak.
That energy that had been brewing was now able to be channeled into comments about our reason for being here.
Many people expressed that they were gay and had "no agenda" as described in the propaganda for this speech.
Many others expressed how they do not believe it is okay to judge others based on their sexual orientation.
I personally expressed that I was there for my step-sister who had been beaten by two people on Miami Universities campus for being gay. There were no legal actions against her aggressors because it isn't considered a hate crime in Ohio.
 After the comments from the gay loving audience, a member of the Traditional Values Club (TVC), the club who brought this bigot to our school, began sharing his beliefs. Do you want to know his reasoning? Because he doesn't think that wedding industry professionals that don't believe in gay marriage should be forced to be employed by gay couples. I laughed out loud. I thought, "I'm so sorry your bigot photographers are getting paid to capture one of the happiest moments of the 'gay agenda'."
Once the speaker arrived, it was obvious that the vast majority disagreed with him.
He walked in excited about the large numbers but was unaware of all that just took place.

Before the speaker spoke, the head of the TVC spoke to welcome him. Instead of just thanking us for our comments and introducing him, she started to bring up old shit. Apparently, a while back another group was protesting a TVC event with signs and they were taken away by Sinclair police because you aren't allowed to have signs on campus. This dim witted woman decided to first bring this up out of nowhere and then tell us that it wasn't their fault. Someone else called the cops. I laughed out loud yet again. Why does this woman feel the need to explain herself? Because she knows what she is doing is wrong. 

When the speaker, Porno Pete, I mean, Peter LaBarbara finally came to the podium, the crowd was enraged.
He started with a joke. "Classy Pete." I thought to myself. "We'll totally agree with you if you joke about how backed up the interstate is." 
Not long after he opened up his power point, I saw a woman stand up out of the corner of my eye. She looked around and said, "Let's go." with her eyes. 95% of the crowd stood up and walked towards the exits, some of which were towards LaBarbara. An elderly woman actually got up and grabbed members of the mob we had created and pulled them to stay saying, "Come on! Really?!" It was beautiful.

We walked to Building 8 where there were cookies and condoms waiting. It was our reward for standing up against oppression.

The TVC continues to exist and Peter LaBarbara continues to spray his hate speech. But thanks to the students and faculty, we are one step closer to making these organizations and speakers cease to exist. My hope is that one of these days, Peter LaBarbara will be jobless and the TVC will lose all funding. Thanks to our actions, that day looks just over the horizon.

Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

Eye Contact: Crack for Girls with Daddy Issues

I have daddy issues. As I normally do with painful experiences, I poke fun at it in my stand up quite a bit. "I call that my daddy issues laugh." is one of my best.

I once heard a spoken word poet say, "Us of the fatherless tribe love men differently." This line has stayed with me. So I want to take a minute of your time to explain what effect this has had on me.

My dad has been an alcoholic since the early 90s. My mother put up with it until I was in kindergarten. When they divorced, I was too young to really see how big of an effect it would have on my life. I just thought, "It's better for my mom this way." Don't get me wrong, it was. She has become an independent, strong willed woman. She has helped me see that you don't need a man to survive and I can't thank her enough for instilling that in me early on in life.
But once they were divorced, my dad became a shell of a person. He drank all the time. This man made six figures but lived in a house on Leo Street. One word: Ghetto. The reason he moved to that God awful place? So he could afford more beer. Milwakee's Best Light. Nasty. I will NEVER drink that shit because of him. I just remember the garbage bins overflowing with cans, the sink overflowing with dishes and the laundry baskets overflowing with dirty clothes. He slept through most of my childhood. I mean it. I had to wake him up to take me home. I would go to his house on the weekends and play the Sims 2 the whole time and then wake him up to take me back. We never laughed. We never talked about life. I played, he slept.
One day, I had finally had enough. It was New Years Eve and he had me for the night. It was about 10:30pm and he was asleep. I tried to wake him up to celebrate but he wouldn't. So I called my mom and asked her to pick me up. Then I wrote him a note saying he needed to get help. That note was the last time I told him that I loved him and meant it. I was 12.
After that, I stopped seeing him for about 2 years. I stopped visiting because I couldn't be ignored anymore.
My eighth grade year, with much guilt tripping from my mother, I reached out to him again. I wanted to visit on Thursdays. The first one was okay but as usual, I came home feeling like poop.
After that, every Thursday after school I would have a voicemail when I turned my phone on saying he couldn't come get me. I lived in New Carlisle and he lived in Dayton. For those keeping track that's only a 30 minute drive. He said it would take to long to get me and drive me back. All would be able to do is eat then I'd have to go home. It's not worth it. Or "You're not worth it." as I heard in my head.
After that, I was done. I gave up on a man that had given up on himself years before that. He kept up with my brothers and would only invite me to dinner if they were there too. I invited him to my shows in high school and he came to one.

But the scars of that failed relationship effect my outlook on men. I feel I have to do more to make them pay attention to me. I always thought, "Maybe if I was cooler, they would like me." I now realize this comes directly from my daddy issues. I never had a man show me how a man should treat a woman. So for a long time I handed my heart to people that didn't deserve it and lost parts of myself.
I also feel like I need a man's attention because I didn't get it as a child. I kid you not, sometimes I feel a physical aching when I want a guy to pay attention to me. Eye contact is like crack to me. It has made me do things with men that I necessarily didn't want to do, just so they would "like me".

The first step is admitting you have a problem. I know that this aching for men may never go away. But being aware of it's origin helps me control it. When I feel that aching, instead of acting on it, I can stop myself and say, "You don't want that."
So for all of my fellow women with daddy issues, stay strong and remember they don't define you. You define you. I know that I am a strong, intelligent woman who can provide for herself. Remembering that keeps me focused on my future and out of trouble.

Thanks for listening. Come back for more. 

A Certain Kind of Sadness

A lot of this blog is about encouraging myself and others. I write about a lot of bad days from the past but always seal it with a good day in the future. But I haven't written much about today. I haven't written about how hard it is to live in the now. There are some really great days. Days that I laugh and days that I enjoy the world around me. Very good days.
But then there are bad days. Days that I cry and scream. Very bad days. Today is one of those days.

At the start of the day, I was late to my math test that I'm certain I failed. So that was just great. But then I kept my head up and said, "Go to voice and movement class and work hard." I went to class worked hard at the movement portion and cried when the teacher asked me to read a monologue. I just burst out into tears proclaiming that I was so tired. Which is very true. This show is running me ragged but I'm holding on. I chose this life and I will stick to it.
All of these things are little road bumps. I can get over them and revive the day by working hard at rehearsal.
I go there. Stretch. Breathe. Act. I feel better because I'm in my element. I feel safe and happy on stage. It weirdly calms me.
Until the break after Act 2.
All of the cast members are sitting in the house seats, and someone says something that makes me reply with, "I don't give it away the first time!"
One of my fellow cast members replies with a serious, "Yes you do!"
 In that moment, it was like I had PTSD.  Except it wasn't a flashback of helicopters and gun fire.
For me, it was a flashback of a man sweating on top of me. All of the men who have sweated on top of me. There was also an image of all of those men walking out the door. It all came back at once.
I was reminded of the part of myself I hated the most to finish off the day. My inner voice started uttering the word "whore" again. I couldn't get any of my lines right in Act 3. I walked out alone, convinced no one wanted to walk out with the "whore".

There will always be bad days.  That's all I'm trying to say. Tomorrow might be better but it might not. It's really up to me. So tomorrow will be a good day. Even if I get a mountain in my path. 

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CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.

Yesterday I went to my Alma Mater's production of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. This show is a fun show about a woman who marries a man without knowing he has 6 brothers living in the same household. It's a cute show with some very great dance numbers. The kids that were up on stage really loved every second and you could tell. All in all, it was a good show and very entertaining.

 The intention of this blog post is not to give a review of a high school production. The intention of this blog post is the remember where I started.

I was in those shows. I sang and danced under the same lights. I looked out into the same black void.
I learned so much from being in productions at Tecumseh and I feel like if I hadn't been in that environment I would never have gone into theater at all. It changed me as a person as well.

Some days when I'm at Sinclair, I get pretty down on myself. Especially when I'm in a show. I feel like I have done nothing in my life so far. I feel like I've always been standing still. This is the reason I try to do things like travel and apply for internships. I want to move because I feel like I've wasted so many of my years of stupid stuff.

But then I watched this musical. I watched those kids put on such a great show and realized how far I've come. I thought back to when I was working on that same exact stage. I remember thinking that my dreams had come true. Ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed of being a lead in a Tecumseh High School musical. And I did it. I did it twice. I set my mind to doing it and I did it. I had my setbacks. I actually didn't make it into the musical my freshman year. I seriously cried for 2 hours after I saw the cast list. I had those thoughts of not being good enough or worth it. Everyone does, especially when I failed at my first chance. But then I picked myself up and kept trucking. I signed up for stage crew because I just needed to be near it. I'm happy to say that the next year I got in, and the rest is history.

I didn't give up then and I won't give up ever again on my dreams. Though that dream was pretty small scale, it was still a dream and I accomplished it. Period.

About a year and a half ago, I had a dream of performing on the Black Box Improv Theater stage. I told myself I would do what ever I could to be on the stage. As of today, I have been on that stage more times than I can count and I realize I accomplished that as well.

Today I officially applied to Columbia College in Chicago after years of sitting around and dreaming about it. Though this dream is only beginning, I am confident in the possibilities it presents. 
 
 My next dream is to perform at the Second City. I will accomplish this dream as well. No "maybe's" or "hopefully's". I will. 

So as I look back on days, I realize that my life is only beginning and that I need to be patient with myself. I have only lived on this earth for 19, almost 20, years. Some people have been doing the same job for longer than I've existed. I still have time. But I must also remember that just because I have time, doesn't mean I should waste it. I should push on with the intensity of a pro-athlete. Keeping a positive attitude only makes life better.

Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

Around the World

"I really want to travel more." This phrase has come out of so many mouths to me. But alas, people just don't travel. Lack of money gets in the way.

Well, I'm going to travel. I don't have much money and will probably just walk around most trips but its not about buying things. In my humble opinion, traveling is about experiencing a different environment. I could buy stuff from any country on Ebay. I can't tell you how it feels to look at the New York skyline as your plane descends back to earth. I could guess but unless I do it, I'll never know. I'm certain it looks like something I rarely see. Accomplishment.

Last summer, I went on a trip with my good friend Kara to Chicago. We planned and paid for it all by ourselves. Our parents just drove us to the bus station. From that point on, we were on our own. Us against the big world. The bus ride was mostly in the dark so it felt as though we were in a different world.
But then I saw the skyline. Like a lighthouse bringing our boat to shore.
I cried. Seriously! You can ask Kara. I just kept saying, "We did it." I kept saying it to the point that she said, "Okay yeah we did it," out of annoyance.
Though I knew I might have been a bit over emotional, I had accomplished something all by myself. I took the initiative and had arrived at my destination. Some might say, "Yeah cool you bought a bus ticket. Good for you." And those people are wrong. I did so much more than that. I stopped thinking about doing something and I actually did it. I fucking did it. I wouldn't have experienced the things I did if I hadn't bought that bus ticket. I wouldn't known that I wanted to go to college instead of just moving. I wouldn't have known that Chicago is a place I want to live and work. I just wouldn't know.
There is only so much you can learn and feel from a laptop.

So now as I set off on my next adventure, I will remember that no matter what happens while I'm there, I accomplished something great. Even though I'm traveling by plane this time, I know that the same emotions will hit me when I see that skyline welcoming me into it's heart.

Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

God Will Never Forsake You

I grew up in church. From fifth to twelfth grade I was involved in the youth group of Lake Avenue Christian Church. Every week, I would go to church on Sunday and then youth group on Sunday night. I've heard a lot of sermons. A lot. But I never really understood. I listened. I felt moved but I don't think I really internalized anything. I had many people that cared about me and tried so hard to beat these lessons into me. The Hayes/Main family specifically made an incredible impression on my faith. Though I was taught to not think this way, I thought I was a great person for going to church. I was above all of the people who drank and had sex in high school. I was a "Christian".

Today I sit here humbled by God. My whole life I have heard, "God will never forsake you." Which was already hard enough for me to understand and believe since I had been forsaken by my earthly father. It felt like God was just some distant being who watched me in my misery. I felt like he wanted my dad become the shell of a man to teach me a lesson. I was angry at this but didn't want to express it because I knew it would be received with the token, "God teaches us in strange ways." I hated this because I felt like I learned nothing. I just felt abandoned.
Let's rewind to a summer in Daytona, FL. A woman by the name of Maria finally broke down this fear of my natural response to "God's lessons". At first when she began asking me about my dad and God, I shut it down with my favorite phrase "I'm a stronger person because of it." which translates to "I don't want to talk about it." Her response changed my view of God completely. "God didn't want you to go through that." In a world where everything was God's plan, this idea sent shock waves through my whole life. I blamed God for my lack of a father figure when I should have been blaming my father for not being there. In that moment, I released all of the pent up anger for God. He didn't want me to be a wounded little person. The world did this to me, not God. In that moment, I cried what felt like 18 years worth of tears. I also realized that God is the father I need. He won't leave. Ever. He's been here longer than me and will still be there for my great great great grandchildren.

Fast forward to now. Within the last year, I have made so many mistakes. I have, as I keep mentioning, thought of suicide. The burden of the person I had become, became too much. Looking back on these moments, I realize that I forgot a major part of God. His forgiveness. I heard so often about God's mercy. As every other lesson, it went in one ear and out the other. I guess I hadn't done anything to be forgiven at that point. I realize that God doesn't care what mistakes I've made in the past year. He only cares about my future and the good things I have done on this earth. His true forgiveness has brought me out of a deep depression.

Now that I have FINALLY internalized these lessons, I am eager to learn more. My way of life with God has made me happier. Being able to rely on him, gives me great solace. Though it took me 8 years to learn it, I love the Lord and what he does for me.

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Self-Inflicted

I take responsibility for my own actions. Well, at least I'm starting to now. So right now I have the responsibility to say that I have not been practicing what I preach.

In one of my previous post, I vowed to focus on myself and not worry about men. This would be much easier if I hadn't discovered Tinder. This app, for those that don't know, is the most addicting dating app for people my age. It presents you with pictures and profiles of guys/girls near by. If you like them, you swipe right. If you don't like them, you swipe left. If you both swipe right, you can chat. It's so easy and so deadly for me personally. I made a profile with the intention of "having fun" which is code for feel good about myself because men are interested in my based on a little profile on their phone. How flattering. Though I have met some real creeps and some really desperate men, I met one guy that I really liked.

He's a junior at UD and he's so good-looking. I have to admit that when we started messaging, I was still dating my previous boyfriend. Though I feel guilty, that was not the reason I ended that relationship. Once I was "free", I began messaging, let's call him Jay, I began messaging Jay constantly. He was funny and thought I was funny and I felt like he was so much cooler than most of the people on Tinder.

But I made two crucial mistakes. First mistake, continuing to message him after I "decided" to be single and free. If I would have stopped talking to him and focused on me, I would have avoided all of this. But hindsight is 20/20. My second mistake is the real story of this fleeting relationship.

Jay and I are messaging on a Saturday evening, at this point in time, it seemed like he really wanted to meet me. He was seemed like a real gentleman and wanted to meet in more of a date setting. I was excited. I wanted to meet him and see what he was like. Either way, I liked him. Even though I kept saying, "I'm not looking to date anyone right now." to myself and others, I was really hoping this would be a dating relationship. I don't mean like a dating relationship where we meeting each others parents and reveal our deepest secrets and fears to each other. Hell no. I just wanted to go out with a guy on dates. Plain and simple. Go ice skating, laser tagging, or just go to dinner. Simple dating relationship. So on this Saturday evening we are talking about possibly meeting. He beat around the bush a lot and I told him, "I'm going to B-Dubs on Brown street whether you're there or not." He said he was busy getting ready for some major drinking event for his frat house. So I did as I told him and went to B-Dubs alone. While I was waiting for my to-go order, he texts me and asks if he can come meet me while I'm waiting for my food. I said okay. When he arrived, I already had my food. So we walked up and down the block before I got back in my car to go to the Black Box. It was only like a minute but I thought he was so cute and sweet! I remember I got in the car and I was saying, "HE IS ADORABLE!" to myself. Something I hadn't realized during this encounter, he had been drinking. This is important information for the rest of this story.

Later that night, I'm watching SNL with Dave and I receive a text message that says, "You should come here ;)" This is where I made my second mistake. I went. I show up at a frat house in the heart of UD. I tried to dance a little bit but just asked him if we could go somewhere to be alone. He took me to his apartment and we fooled around. This was the nail in the coffin.

After this, he has never wanted to see me unless he was completely drunk. He'll text me here and there but not as much as when he was shit-faced. The last time I left his apartment, I realized that we would never go on a date. He would never ask me a question about myself or even if he did, he wouldn't care about the answer. I was a just a booty call.

This is not a story about how terrible men are. I'm not a victim in this scenario. I'm the main suspect. I'm the one who murdered this relationship. Though I do believe that if he actually liked me, he would have said no, I also believe that I set this precedent. I told this guy through my actions that treating me like a piece of meat was okay. For me personally, it was not what I wanted. But alas, it happened. I made a mistake and probably lost someone I could have really liked and seemed to like me. If we would have gone on a date or something, and he still seems to only want that, then yes, I could blame him. But we didn't so I can't.

I'm taking responsibility for all of my actions, especially with men. A lot of people act like men are terrible and that they hurt us by not caring about us. But I think sometimes we open ourselves up to be hurt. If you're like me and will do anything to make men like you, then this will be a huge struggle in your life. I realized that even though I know that relationships like this are toxic, I have to fight them all of my life because of the way I am. Everyone does. It's so easy to fall into these relationships because we feel wanted. But it normally lasts for one night. Then the morning after, you walk away feeling alone and taken advantage of. But I think it is only because we aren't comfortable admitting that we did this to ourselves by not expecting more.

Thanks for listening. Come back for more.