Hello. It's me. I was wondering if after all these weeks you'd like to read, to go over everything. They say that school's supposed to change ya, but I ain't done much changin.
Yeah. I did that. Forgive me and let's move on.
I'll get right to it. I feel like shit. More like, I feel like I'm shit. A big, steaming piece of shit.
This is an old feeling that seems to keep dressing up as another feeling and infiltrating my brain. This is the old feeling that kept me from applying to Columbia in high school. This is the old feeling that haunted me for 2 years because I lost my virginity before marriage. This is the old feeling I thought was gone or at least controllable.
It started with a constant dialogue with myself over the past semester. Am I a good person? Have I helped anyone? Do I understand and practice empathy? Is there something about me that people loathe but deal with because they have to? Do people loathe me secretly? Am I incredibly stupid but no one is telling me because they don't want me to feel bad? These toxic questions rattled around in my head at least once a week. I silenced them with work, school, and my new-ish romance, hoping that they'd disappear like they always do. Hoping there would be a silver lining that I could find and document in this blog. I also partially feared that if I spoke of them out loud to anyone, they'd become real and uncontrollable. One of my biggest fears is always making another person responsible for my emotions. I should be able to deal with them alone. I should be able to control them and not let them affect me. I shouldn't be so goddamn sensitive and insecure. This system of repression only worked for so long.
Tuesday night, I was at an improv rehearsal with Cat Booty (I know, I love the name too!) having a ball. This is one of the moments I felt myself. Laughs, glances, and jokes were exchanged between members and we had a great first set. Soon the second set started and I stepped out to get a suggestion. "Can I get a suggestion of something that you can't find in a ladies purse?" A teammate scoffed and slightly glared as if the idea was the stupidest thing that person had ever heard. This may not have been the case but for some reason it sent me in a tail spin. I shouted, "Well then you get a suggestion!" Our coach gave us a suggestion and the set moved forward. I cooled off and did my scene work but I couldn't help but start answering those questions with negative answers. Over and over I started thinking, "Wow idiot. Way to go. Not only are you a shitty suggestion getter, you are a bad person because you got mad. Way to fucking go." I tried to shut it out. Re-invest in the moment during notes. It rang louder and longer. Rehearsal was dismissed and I put my headphones in. I rushed to the restroom where I began to sob. I began to repeat, "You're so stupid, nobody likes you." over and over which evolved into a simple "Stupid stupid stupid," like a fucked up mantra. I couldn't control my hands or body. They were at the mercy of my emotions. After many minutes of this, I left the bathroom with tear soaked eyes and the strongest face I could find. I hurried to my dorm two blocks away. I barely made it outside before it started again. I saw my improv group a block ahead of me laughing and having a wonderful time, solidifying the idea that people do loathe me and were perfectly fine without me. My brain even told me they were better. I scanned into my dorm building, pressed all the necessary elevator buttons and shot into my dorm like a rocket. I ripped my clothes off and sat on the bathroom floor rocking back and forth, silently crying. My roommates were home and though they probably got that something was up by my instant bathroom usage, I didn't want them to hear me crying and breaking down. I got in the shower with the intent to wash the emotions out of me. I put Hurt by Johnny Cash on repeat and sat in the shower. I let it hit me as I let the emotions hit me. They would only control me tonight, now, not tomorrow. I stared at my wrist wondering if those kids in middle school had it right, would it feel better, would it relieve my pain? I decided, no. Feel this. Do not repress. Do not hurt yourself physically to try to "fix me" emotionally. After about 20 minutes, I stopped sobbing and just began singing. I felt better. I I let it wash over me.
The next day, I felt sluggish, probably because I was up until 2am writing a dumb paper only to write it again from 10am until it was due at 3:30pm, but I still felt negative. I thought it would work like it did when I felt this before.
Perhaps some feelings don't leave overnight, maybe it takes time and slow reminders of our worthiness. I have so many things to be thankful for and so many talents that I am blessed with but also so many demons to overcome. Insecurity can sneak up on you and attack you like it did me. Don't fight it with numbing, ask it why. Why you are feeling it? Where did it come from? How can you help it leave you safely and permanently? At least that's what I'm trying to do.
I am worthy of love and acceptance and so are you, my dear reader. Also talk to someone if you're feeling like this. That's the real healthy way to deal with it. I'm gonna try my best to call someone and I hope you can too.
So with that, I leave you. I'll be back sooner next time, I promise.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Thursday, December 3, 2015
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
How Do You Do It?
Last Thursday, I was skyping my dear friend Cydnie Hampton. For those that don't know her, she is the New York version of me, only better.
We were talking about my current relationship and I told her that my boyfriend and I have been officially together for almost 2 months. She then asked how long we had been "talking".
I sat back for a second and counted the months. From March to November is 7 months. I said this number out loud. She was shocked, as was I. Could it really have been that long? I did take into account that he was gone for 3 months during the summer but we still remained "together." Even with him not physically here, I thought about how I have thought about him every day for the last 7 months. There hasn't been a day without his face popping into my head in over half a year. 4 months together, and 3 months apart. I, honestly, have forgotten that he was gone. Every once and a while, I'll have an out of body experience when I'm laying in his bed with his arms squeezing my tiny frame. I realize that I spent a whole summer longing for these moments and worrying that they wouldn't happen when he got back. I was terrified. Now I have a bag full of toiletries at his place I call my "Sunnyside Survival Kit," and a pair of UK pajama pants for the extra cold nights.
Cydnie then asked a question that I remember asking Jordan Cohen about her much longer term relationship of two and a half years.
"How do you do it? How do you stay with someone that long?"
My answer was along these lines:
"Well he asked me out, we went on a date, I wanted to see him again, so I did. Then I wanted to see him again, so I did. Then I wanted to see him again, so I did. And BAM, 7 months later here we are."
That's the only way I can describe the way I feel. I want to see him. I want to wake up next to him. I want him in my life. For right now, that's how I'm "doing it". I just keep saying yes.
Maybe it will get complicated. Maybe we'll soon find out a huge monster of a reason we will never work. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I'm done living by maybes. Especially in romance and love. I'm done planning and plotting. I'm done trying to make people stay and just enjoying them while they're here. I'm done being haunted by the 'what ifs'.
We're a we as long as we will be. I can't be anything but grateful.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
We were talking about my current relationship and I told her that my boyfriend and I have been officially together for almost 2 months. She then asked how long we had been "talking".
I sat back for a second and counted the months. From March to November is 7 months. I said this number out loud. She was shocked, as was I. Could it really have been that long? I did take into account that he was gone for 3 months during the summer but we still remained "together." Even with him not physically here, I thought about how I have thought about him every day for the last 7 months. There hasn't been a day without his face popping into my head in over half a year. 4 months together, and 3 months apart. I, honestly, have forgotten that he was gone. Every once and a while, I'll have an out of body experience when I'm laying in his bed with his arms squeezing my tiny frame. I realize that I spent a whole summer longing for these moments and worrying that they wouldn't happen when he got back. I was terrified. Now I have a bag full of toiletries at his place I call my "Sunnyside Survival Kit," and a pair of UK pajama pants for the extra cold nights.
Cydnie then asked a question that I remember asking Jordan Cohen about her much longer term relationship of two and a half years.
"How do you do it? How do you stay with someone that long?"
My answer was along these lines:
"Well he asked me out, we went on a date, I wanted to see him again, so I did. Then I wanted to see him again, so I did. Then I wanted to see him again, so I did. And BAM, 7 months later here we are."
That's the only way I can describe the way I feel. I want to see him. I want to wake up next to him. I want him in my life. For right now, that's how I'm "doing it". I just keep saying yes.
Maybe it will get complicated. Maybe we'll soon find out a huge monster of a reason we will never work. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I'm done living by maybes. Especially in romance and love. I'm done planning and plotting. I'm done trying to make people stay and just enjoying them while they're here. I'm done being haunted by the 'what ifs'.
We're a we as long as we will be. I can't be anything but grateful.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Thursday, October 1, 2015
A Public Apology
Columbia College Improv Club is a place where I grew as a person and as an improviser. From September through May, I spent many of the Fridays in between performing, learning and improving. I met and bonded with many of my, now, good friends there. I've loved Improv Club and it has loved me right back. But that love was earned. The first months I was in Improv Club, doubt clouded my abilities. I would often fight to keep tears back in the short elevator ride from the lobby to my apartment. It was hard to be bad and feel like I was never going to get better. I had friends there and they helped me get comfortable but it took many, many months.
At the end of Improv Club last year, I decided, well actually I was told by a few people, to run for E-Board. This would mean I would be one of the leaders and decision makers. I knew if I did become a part of this wonderful group of leaders, one of my main goals would be to help new members not feel the way I felt. I didn't really care what else happened as long as we created a welcoming environment. I couldn't forget the many days I spent in my room crying over my inadequacies. I didn't want others to feel this way. In the meetings leading up to this year, we talked extensively about creating the environment where people could play and be themselves and fuck up without feeling like death.
Up until 30 minutes ago, I believed the first two meetings were successful in this regard. It was a positive environment where most, if not, all were having a good time. I was feeling really good about club and was excited about the community that was being created. I have even run into many of the members at events out in the city! I drunkenly tried to cut them in line at Second City but that's a completely different story that fills me with guilt. ANYWAY, All of the board members and I were feeling really great and optimistic about this year.
30 minutes ago, I saw the president of Improv Club on the street and he asked to have a word with me. He began to tell me of how one of our former members, who is now an RA, was asking his residents who went to Improv Club how it went. They said they didn't think they would be returning. Confused because he had heard and seen that it was going well, he asked why. They told him that one of the leaders had said that their set was the worst set she had ever seen.
Surprise, surprise that was me. I said that, I will not deny that. Out of context, that is terrible and inexcusable. In the context, it was a joke that was established early in the meeting. One of my fellow board members had used a term in an example that I did not like and I joked that you can't do anything wrong except use that term. I believe it was "Sweet Tots." We laughed about this then later in the montage the members above were a part of, that same board member used the term, to which I thought everyone caught and was laughing at. After their set when the board members typically give feedback, I said the statement above, assuming everyone knew what I was talking about. Many people laughed and we moved on to real, positive critiques and observations.
Obviously this was a joke and with the given context, it would have been funny. But I'm going to apologize to those who do return tomorrow. Mostly because I remember a time when I heard a comment with similar context and spent the rest of the day over analyzing what I had done wrong. My goal was to try to create an environment where that happened less. I ended up being the one to create hostility and doubt. I'm so sorry for this. If anyone from club reads this, I want you to know that I am deeply sorry for contributing to the self-abuse that many of us already endure on a daily basis. That was not my intention. I just got carried away with my dear friend and forgot my duty. It will never happen, intentionally, again. But as Hannah Montana sang into my soul, "Everybody makes mistakes." Yes, Hannah, yes they do.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
At the end of Improv Club last year, I decided, well actually I was told by a few people, to run for E-Board. This would mean I would be one of the leaders and decision makers. I knew if I did become a part of this wonderful group of leaders, one of my main goals would be to help new members not feel the way I felt. I didn't really care what else happened as long as we created a welcoming environment. I couldn't forget the many days I spent in my room crying over my inadequacies. I didn't want others to feel this way. In the meetings leading up to this year, we talked extensively about creating the environment where people could play and be themselves and fuck up without feeling like death.
Up until 30 minutes ago, I believed the first two meetings were successful in this regard. It was a positive environment where most, if not, all were having a good time. I was feeling really good about club and was excited about the community that was being created. I have even run into many of the members at events out in the city! I drunkenly tried to cut them in line at Second City but that's a completely different story that fills me with guilt. ANYWAY, All of the board members and I were feeling really great and optimistic about this year.
30 minutes ago, I saw the president of Improv Club on the street and he asked to have a word with me. He began to tell me of how one of our former members, who is now an RA, was asking his residents who went to Improv Club how it went. They said they didn't think they would be returning. Confused because he had heard and seen that it was going well, he asked why. They told him that one of the leaders had said that their set was the worst set she had ever seen.
Surprise, surprise that was me. I said that, I will not deny that. Out of context, that is terrible and inexcusable. In the context, it was a joke that was established early in the meeting. One of my fellow board members had used a term in an example that I did not like and I joked that you can't do anything wrong except use that term. I believe it was "Sweet Tots." We laughed about this then later in the montage the members above were a part of, that same board member used the term, to which I thought everyone caught and was laughing at. After their set when the board members typically give feedback, I said the statement above, assuming everyone knew what I was talking about. Many people laughed and we moved on to real, positive critiques and observations.
Obviously this was a joke and with the given context, it would have been funny. But I'm going to apologize to those who do return tomorrow. Mostly because I remember a time when I heard a comment with similar context and spent the rest of the day over analyzing what I had done wrong. My goal was to try to create an environment where that happened less. I ended up being the one to create hostility and doubt. I'm so sorry for this. If anyone from club reads this, I want you to know that I am deeply sorry for contributing to the self-abuse that many of us already endure on a daily basis. That was not my intention. I just got carried away with my dear friend and forgot my duty. It will never happen, intentionally, again. But as Hannah Montana sang into my soul, "Everybody makes mistakes." Yes, Hannah, yes they do.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
I Loved My Crack Den
I haven't posted anything on here in over a month. I haven't felt a strong inclination to write a blog, a joke, or a story. Nowadays, I mostly write about how I can't write.
Even as I was typing that, I wanted to stop and curl up in a ball.
I'm incredibly sad for some reason. This summer, I had the best time being a 21 year old in the city. I was really and truly happy. It radiated off of my skin. I loved the mattress I slept on that resided comfortably on the floor of the room I lovingly referred to as my "Crack Den". I loved my job babysitting drunk middle aged out of towners. I loved the Chinese place down the street's ability to make my General Tso's with haste. I loved my life in Uptown. I was really feeling like myself.
Around mid-August, I started to notice I was just going through the motions. For the most part, all I wanted to do was stay in bed or get drunk/high or be with the boy's bed drinking/getting high. The passion and excitement of summer had faded away slowly and seamlessly.
The idea of writing a joke right now fills me with anxiety and fear. I'm not the kind of comedian who writes EVERYDAY but I can typically come up with at least one bad joke a week. Every time I try, it turns into a rant about something like women's rights or gun violence that isn't insightful, just aggressive.
I find that when I'm out with people, I feel great. I love talking and joking with my friends. I also really love my job. It's the only job I've ever had where I can forget everything that's happening in my personal life and enjoy my work. It's one of the rare times when I really feel like myself.
But then when I get home to the silence, I can only hear my sad, negative thoughts.
I've started to really doubt myself as a person. You're not a good person. You don't stand for anything. You aren't helping anyone. You're a bad friend. You're the reason none of your relationships ever work out. You're not funny. You're shit. It's gotten bad. The kind of bad that hasn't happened in a very long time.
I don't have a conclusion because I'm still trying to figure it out. I don't even know why I felt so compelled to write this. Maybe I need help. Maybe I need to stop telling people I'm fine. Maybe I'm repressing something. I'm really not sure. Perhaps I'll wake up tomorrow and feel perfectly fine and be embarrassed that I ever posted this. We'll see.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Even as I was typing that, I wanted to stop and curl up in a ball.
I'm incredibly sad for some reason. This summer, I had the best time being a 21 year old in the city. I was really and truly happy. It radiated off of my skin. I loved the mattress I slept on that resided comfortably on the floor of the room I lovingly referred to as my "Crack Den". I loved my job babysitting drunk middle aged out of towners. I loved the Chinese place down the street's ability to make my General Tso's with haste. I loved my life in Uptown. I was really feeling like myself.
Around mid-August, I started to notice I was just going through the motions. For the most part, all I wanted to do was stay in bed or get drunk/high or be with the boy's bed drinking/getting high. The passion and excitement of summer had faded away slowly and seamlessly.
The idea of writing a joke right now fills me with anxiety and fear. I'm not the kind of comedian who writes EVERYDAY but I can typically come up with at least one bad joke a week. Every time I try, it turns into a rant about something like women's rights or gun violence that isn't insightful, just aggressive.
I find that when I'm out with people, I feel great. I love talking and joking with my friends. I also really love my job. It's the only job I've ever had where I can forget everything that's happening in my personal life and enjoy my work. It's one of the rare times when I really feel like myself.
But then when I get home to the silence, I can only hear my sad, negative thoughts.
I've started to really doubt myself as a person. You're not a good person. You don't stand for anything. You aren't helping anyone. You're a bad friend. You're the reason none of your relationships ever work out. You're not funny. You're shit. It's gotten bad. The kind of bad that hasn't happened in a very long time.
I don't have a conclusion because I'm still trying to figure it out. I don't even know why I felt so compelled to write this. Maybe I need help. Maybe I need to stop telling people I'm fine. Maybe I'm repressing something. I'm really not sure. Perhaps I'll wake up tomorrow and feel perfectly fine and be embarrassed that I ever posted this. We'll see.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
Great Sexpectations
"Expectation is the root of all heartbreak." -Billy Shakes
Oh Bill. You were wiser than the many anal jokes you made in your plays. Now to the real reason I quoted this man:
Before August 16th, I was ridden with expectations. Before August 16th, I could be found on the train daydreaming about August 16th. Before August 16th, I was sure August 16th would be a day for the record books.
On August 16th, I slept on a mattress pad with the person I waited for all summer.
On August 18th, I cried because August 16th didn't go down exactly how I imagined it.
Expectations are a bitch. I always imagined that the night this boy came back, I'd walk up to his door, press the buzzer, hear his footsteps and see his handsome new beard smiling at me when the door opened. I imagined we would say "Hi" and then hug so hard our arms would fall off, we would kiss, I would feel his beard with my hands and be smiling the entire time. This would cease only to walk up the stairs into the apartment. Once in the apartment, I imagined an impassioned montage of clothes removal and stumbling over said clothing. We would then fall into bed and make love as if we'd both just been in prison for 20+ years.
As you can probably predict, that is not how it went down. Now, I was aware that some of this was very outlandish but the first part didn't seem too out there in my brain so that is what I hoped for once the day came around. I was at work all day and didn't really even remember that I was going over there until I got to the last bar and began my final speech.
After an hour bus ride, I had arrived at the most exciting part of August 16th. I walked up the front steps and had to tell myself to relax my breathing. I was just so freakin excited! I pressed the buzzer, I waited, took deeper breaths and heard the footsteps coming down the stairs. My heart began to flutter in a very story book way as the door opened. At first, I saw no one. It was the classic "Hide behind the door to freak them out" bit and I laughed. I was still expecting to see the face of the man I was here to be with. Instead, his roommate pops his face out from behind the door and smiles at me in a "GOTCHA!" sort of fashion. I almost cried. My expectations were shattered but I smiled as to not show his roommate my distress. I walk up the stairs making small talk and still saw no signs of him as I entered the apartment. I went to what I knew was his room and found him on a chair hanging up lights. I got a "Hey" which was returned with a "What's Up". He said, "Hold on, I'm going to get down and give you a hug." I responded with, "I have to go to the bathroom anyway!" I put my things down and retreated to the bathroom. I sat there, took deep breaths and told myself that it was okay. He's here. That's all you wanted. The rest of that stuff was just fluff. I returned, received a nice sweaty hug and from that moment on the evening was exactly what it was and I was happy. I had gotten rid of my expectations and began enjoying spending time with him and his roommates.
I only tell this story to point out a couple of things. It is okay to have expectations. Especially if those expectations keep you excited for an event. It only becomes not okay when you let them control you. If I would have pouted the rest of the night because I wasn't "properly greeted", that night would not have been what it became. Especially in romantic relationship, it's easy to dream up all these expectations. With the excess of romantic movies and tv shows we've grown up with, I know I personally have fallen victim to the "If this person really liked/cared/loved me, they would do it like this or do this for me like this." We have to get those thoughts out of our brain the minute we have them. They make us crazy. It makes you doubt in a really unhealthy. Be patient. If the person does care, they will show it in their own unique way. Hopefully your gut will tell you if they don't. Mine always does. I just have a really hard time listening to it sometimes.
With that, I bid you all a fond farewell for now. The school year starts soon and I'm certain it will give me plenty of things to bitch about and then learn from. If not, my $42,000 isn't really worth it. Also, yes that is the actual number I'm paying to live this life, ladies and gentleman. I know. I'm crying too.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Oh Bill. You were wiser than the many anal jokes you made in your plays. Now to the real reason I quoted this man:
Before August 16th, I was ridden with expectations. Before August 16th, I could be found on the train daydreaming about August 16th. Before August 16th, I was sure August 16th would be a day for the record books.
On August 16th, I slept on a mattress pad with the person I waited for all summer.
On August 18th, I cried because August 16th didn't go down exactly how I imagined it.
Expectations are a bitch. I always imagined that the night this boy came back, I'd walk up to his door, press the buzzer, hear his footsteps and see his handsome new beard smiling at me when the door opened. I imagined we would say "Hi" and then hug so hard our arms would fall off, we would kiss, I would feel his beard with my hands and be smiling the entire time. This would cease only to walk up the stairs into the apartment. Once in the apartment, I imagined an impassioned montage of clothes removal and stumbling over said clothing. We would then fall into bed and make love as if we'd both just been in prison for 20+ years.
As you can probably predict, that is not how it went down. Now, I was aware that some of this was very outlandish but the first part didn't seem too out there in my brain so that is what I hoped for once the day came around. I was at work all day and didn't really even remember that I was going over there until I got to the last bar and began my final speech.
After an hour bus ride, I had arrived at the most exciting part of August 16th. I walked up the front steps and had to tell myself to relax my breathing. I was just so freakin excited! I pressed the buzzer, I waited, took deeper breaths and heard the footsteps coming down the stairs. My heart began to flutter in a very story book way as the door opened. At first, I saw no one. It was the classic "Hide behind the door to freak them out" bit and I laughed. I was still expecting to see the face of the man I was here to be with. Instead, his roommate pops his face out from behind the door and smiles at me in a "GOTCHA!" sort of fashion. I almost cried. My expectations were shattered but I smiled as to not show his roommate my distress. I walk up the stairs making small talk and still saw no signs of him as I entered the apartment. I went to what I knew was his room and found him on a chair hanging up lights. I got a "Hey" which was returned with a "What's Up". He said, "Hold on, I'm going to get down and give you a hug." I responded with, "I have to go to the bathroom anyway!" I put my things down and retreated to the bathroom. I sat there, took deep breaths and told myself that it was okay. He's here. That's all you wanted. The rest of that stuff was just fluff. I returned, received a nice sweaty hug and from that moment on the evening was exactly what it was and I was happy. I had gotten rid of my expectations and began enjoying spending time with him and his roommates.
I only tell this story to point out a couple of things. It is okay to have expectations. Especially if those expectations keep you excited for an event. It only becomes not okay when you let them control you. If I would have pouted the rest of the night because I wasn't "properly greeted", that night would not have been what it became. Especially in romantic relationship, it's easy to dream up all these expectations. With the excess of romantic movies and tv shows we've grown up with, I know I personally have fallen victim to the "If this person really liked/cared/loved me, they would do it like this or do this for me like this." We have to get those thoughts out of our brain the minute we have them. They make us crazy. It makes you doubt in a really unhealthy. Be patient. If the person does care, they will show it in their own unique way. Hopefully your gut will tell you if they don't. Mine always does. I just have a really hard time listening to it sometimes.
With that, I bid you all a fond farewell for now. The school year starts soon and I'm certain it will give me plenty of things to bitch about and then learn from. If not, my $42,000 isn't really worth it. Also, yes that is the actual number I'm paying to live this life, ladies and gentleman. I know. I'm crying too.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
Taylor Swift and Me
I love Taylor Swift. I love her music. I love her style. I love her.
This is a common fact for those who know me well but I don't know if I've ever brought it up on this blog. Taylor Swift is important to me because her music has helped me through some of the hardest and most beautiful moments of my life. To help you understand, I'm going to get very specific and drop a few names from my past. Get ready. This post is also going to be long and detailed. I will leave very few stones unturned. You will know a lot about me and my relationships by the time you're done reading. I hope you stick around until the end because it will all have the moral.
In 2008, I was on MySpace looking at my friend Taylor's (weird coincidence) page and all of a sudden I heard this country sounding guitar. I looked at her profile song and there was a picture of a girl, not much older than me, with blonde curly hair. I listened to the song titled, "Teardrops On My Guitar" I listened and related immediately because at that time, and for many years before, I had been pining over a guy by the name of Scotty Snarr. He was a jerk to me but I wanted him to love me. The song didn't fit perfectly because we were not friends. In fact, we were enemies. It was a classic case of "Helga from Hey Arnold" love sickness. I listened to this song many times and then looked into the singer whose name was Taylor Swift.
Fast forward to when I had to break up with Cory Wiley. Corey Wiley and I dated for many months my sophomore year of his school. Cory was a senior and we did not mesh well. I believe the reason I dated him was he had a shocking resemblance to George Harrison. He made me laugh in the beginning but then we started to get bored with each other. I can't say a bad word about Cory because he treated me really well and loved me very much, it just wasn't mutual. Breaking up with Cory took two tries and my girl Tay Swift was there for both. In the weeks leading up to our break up, I listened to "Breathe" on repeat. With the lyric, "Never wanted this, never wanna see you hurt, every little bump in the road I tried to swerve, people are people and sometimes it doesn't work out, nothing we say is gonna save us from the fall out." I knew I had to do it. We cried. We broke up. It was long and painful. I literally sent him into the cold.
A couple of weeks later, I got very lonely. I wanted him back and my girl had just released a song called "Back to December." This song was perfect. We broke up in December. He gave me roses. I left them there to die. It was freaky how accurate this song was.
"You gave me all your love and all I gave you was goodbye."
We dated for another 2 months, went to prom, and I broke up with him over text after not hanging out with him for an entire month. Not my proudest moment but the whole relationship was a lesson in not settling because of loneliness. I'm sorry for hurting you, Cory.
The section of my life so incredibly influenced by Taylor Swift was when I in and falling out of love with Matthew James Ross. The summer before my senior year of high school, I began dating Matt. Reluctantly at first, I slowly but surely fell in love with this kid and fell hard. We spent almost every day together for six months. He opened doors, he paid for meals, he called every night. He was a real gentleman, we were a real "we" and I was in love. I told him everything and for the first time I saw a future with someone. We fought and joked and kissed. Our song was "Just A Kiss" by Lady Antebellum but my song for him was "Mine" by T-Swizzle. At a time when was still very angry with the way my father lived his life, I didn't want anything to do with love before Matt. I had an idea that everyone that loved me would just leave when things got tough. I truly believed Matt wouldn't. This song is describing exactly that. "You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter, you are the best thing that's ever been mine." I would have tattooed that onto my skin at that point of my life.
Months later, Matt would leave. We were in my 2004 Pontiac Grand Am parked in his driveway. He stared at me for a long time with the words, "I'm sorry" riddled in his gazed. Eventually, I asked him, "Are you breaking up with me?" Then the words escaped his eyes and tears escaped mine. After a minute of shock and tears, I began saying, "If we're breaking up, get out of my car." I drove home but weirdly stopped crying almost immediately after I turned off of his street. It was strange but I think I was in shock.
For the next month, the song "Last Kiss" would become my anthem. This was so perfect I couldn't handle it. The bridge of this song makes me cry even to this day. "So I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep, I'll feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe, and I'll keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are." That is one of the most beautiful break up lyrics of all time. Another lyric of the song that I followed to a T was, "So I'll go sit on the floor wearing your clothes." I had a sweatshirt of his that I sobbed into for a week before giving it back to him at lunch one day. This song helped me cry it out and really feel the pain of losing someone you love.
Soon my sadness turned to anger. Matt and I were also in the same youth group. Our friends were all friends. So I fell in love with a song called, "The Story of Us." The lyric that I remember singing into my hairbrush before school was, "I'm starting to think one day I'll tell the story of us how I was losing my mind when I saw you here, but you held your pride like you should've held me" That lyric was perfect already but became even more perfect when he later told me he didn't get back with me because he didn't want his parents, who told him that breaking up with me was a mistake, to be right. An honorable mention from this song, "This is looking like a contest of who can act like they careless." Because holy shit it was.
In high school, Taylor released a song called "Mean." "Mean" was the song that represents my middle school experience. This song was not out when I was in middle school but once I heard it, it became my anthem. "Some day I'll be living in a big ole city, and all you're ever gonna be is mean, some day I'll be big enough so you can't hit me and all you're ever gonna be is mean." Quick update, I did move to a big ole city and the people that made my life hell, are still just mean.
Now I'm going to leave a name out for the sake of respect:
When I was 19, I had a sexual relationship with a 23 year old man who thought I was too young to date. Let me re-phrase that. I was too young to date but old enough to fuck. To make matters worse, he did the same to many of my friends and we all were too naive to know until it was too late. He really hurt me for a long time and my song for him was "Dear John." This song is, again, PERFECT, "Dear John, I see it all now, it was wrong, don't you think 19's too young to be played by your dark twisted games when I loved you so, I should've known...never impressed by me acing your tests, all the girls that you've run dry have tired lifeless eyes cause you burned them out." It even said my age, people! She is the goddess of lyrics.
Then something magical happened. RED came out. RED is my favorite album, even more so than 1989. This is her best break up album. This came out in a time of my life that I was so confused about love. I thought the only thing it did was hurt you and leave you in the gutter wounded, salty. This album gave me a new hope. RED taught me that we all hurt but that's not a reason to stop being yourself. I had about 3 flings in the time of RED and I identified a bunch of different songs with each. But never really connected too deeply with the actually stories of RED.
Then came along Charles Wayne Boyles and RED made sense. Especially the song, "Red", the opening lyric, "Loving him was like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street, faster than the wind passionate as sin ending so suddenly." I knew from the beginning this thing wouldn't end too well so that song understood how it felt to be that in love that quickly.
After our break up, the song "All Too Well" became a trigger song. I still cry when this song comes on in the shower. This song contains my favorite lyric not only of Taylor Swift's but of all time. "You tell me about your past thinking your future was me."
This song captures gaining and losing love in a way no one else has been able to for me. For many months, this lyric, "Time won't fly it's like I'm paralyzed by it, I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it, after plaid shirt days and nights where you made me your own." was the way I felt about this failed relationship. I had become used to having him around to comfort me and help me. I lost myself in making him happy and forgot that I'm a person with needs to and he didn't meet them. I asked for a letter, he gave me a picture of a lamp.
Then something else happened while I was in the middle of this odd on and off sexual and emotional relationship with Charles. 1989 came to the world in screaming color. "Out of the Woods" became my song for him. The song asked two simple questions, "Are we out of the woods yet?...Are we in the clear yet?" This relationship felt like that song sounded. When would we really be done with each other? When would we finally move on? When would we get over the fact that this thing wasn't going to work?
"When the sun came up you were looking at me." reminding me of the many nights we spent together followed by many mornings. Charles was the first relationship that felt adult-like. We didn't have parents telling us we couldn't be in each others rooms or that we couldn't touch on the couch. I woke up next to him often and felt so happy.
The demise of Charles and I could only be explained in one song. Any guesses? "Clean" is the last track on her album and was on repeat on my iPod during the Megabus ride home after we decided not to speak anymore. "It was months and months of back and forth, you're still all over me like a wine stained dress I can't wear anymore." and "By morning, gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean." were among the best parts. I was finally free to live the life I wanted without pining over him. It felt good and this song helped me feel better.
Another song I must mention is Blank Space. This song was huge in my life. I listened to this song at least 3 times a day. This song came out at a time when I was feeling like every relationship I'd been in was meant to burn down in flames. Though she wrote this satirically, I related. All my relationships seemed to end in similar ways and this song sort of followed the pattern. I would often replace the lyric, "Find out what you want, be that girl for a month," with "be that girl for 3 months." because many of my flings lasted exactly 3 months, no joke. Singing this song was great way to get out all that aggression I felt for my failed relationships. It helped me laugh at them and see them as just blips on the radar of my life.
On December 10th, 2015, I received a call that David Michaels had died. He was my best friend for over 2 years in Ohio. We got in a fight of sorts and I walked out of his life. 10 months later, he killed himself and I'm still having a hard time forgiving myself. Much to my surprise, Taylor Swift helped this situation as well. Her song, "I Wish You Would," described how I felt. "I wish you would come back, wish I never hung up the phone like I did, I wish you knew that I'll never forget you as long as I live, and I wish you were right here right now, its all good, I wish you would...I wish we could go back and remember what we were fighting for and I wish you knew that I miss you too much to be mad anymore, wish you were right here right now, it's all good, I wish you would." Those were the words running through my brain for 3 months.
Today, I'm "with" someone and still find songs of hers that remind me of him. The song, "Come Back Be Here" which is a bonus track from RED is my current song. This one is a bit sadder than I feel but she captures the feeling of long distance very well. "We stumble through the long goodbye, one last kiss then catch your flight, right when I was just about to fall, I told myself, don't get attached, but in my mind I play it back, spinning faster than the plane that took you, this is when the feeling sets in, I don't wanna miss you like this." Spot on for the days I haven't heard from him in days, wondering if things will be the same when he gets back.
Okay. We've made it to the end and the moral. Taylor Swift is more than a pop star to me and many people. She has taught me to be honest, feel what you feel and turn it into art. So if anyone ever wonders what my obsession is with her, I can tell them to read this and understand how when I listen to her music, I feel like someone is on my side. I feel the pain in the songs and then often have a moment of clarity. She's grown up with me. I feel like she goes through the exact same feeling and emotions as me but years earlier and then releases the album as I'm going through it. It's a magical effect she has on my life and I can't wait to grow old with her and her music.
Also I might get my hair cut like her.......
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
This is a common fact for those who know me well but I don't know if I've ever brought it up on this blog. Taylor Swift is important to me because her music has helped me through some of the hardest and most beautiful moments of my life. To help you understand, I'm going to get very specific and drop a few names from my past. Get ready. This post is also going to be long and detailed. I will leave very few stones unturned. You will know a lot about me and my relationships by the time you're done reading. I hope you stick around until the end because it will all have the moral.
In 2008, I was on MySpace looking at my friend Taylor's (weird coincidence) page and all of a sudden I heard this country sounding guitar. I looked at her profile song and there was a picture of a girl, not much older than me, with blonde curly hair. I listened to the song titled, "Teardrops On My Guitar" I listened and related immediately because at that time, and for many years before, I had been pining over a guy by the name of Scotty Snarr. He was a jerk to me but I wanted him to love me. The song didn't fit perfectly because we were not friends. In fact, we were enemies. It was a classic case of "Helga from Hey Arnold" love sickness. I listened to this song many times and then looked into the singer whose name was Taylor Swift.
Fast forward to when I had to break up with Cory Wiley. Corey Wiley and I dated for many months my sophomore year of his school. Cory was a senior and we did not mesh well. I believe the reason I dated him was he had a shocking resemblance to George Harrison. He made me laugh in the beginning but then we started to get bored with each other. I can't say a bad word about Cory because he treated me really well and loved me very much, it just wasn't mutual. Breaking up with Cory took two tries and my girl Tay Swift was there for both. In the weeks leading up to our break up, I listened to "Breathe" on repeat. With the lyric, "Never wanted this, never wanna see you hurt, every little bump in the road I tried to swerve, people are people and sometimes it doesn't work out, nothing we say is gonna save us from the fall out." I knew I had to do it. We cried. We broke up. It was long and painful. I literally sent him into the cold.
A couple of weeks later, I got very lonely. I wanted him back and my girl had just released a song called "Back to December." This song was perfect. We broke up in December. He gave me roses. I left them there to die. It was freaky how accurate this song was.
"You gave me all your love and all I gave you was goodbye."
We dated for another 2 months, went to prom, and I broke up with him over text after not hanging out with him for an entire month. Not my proudest moment but the whole relationship was a lesson in not settling because of loneliness. I'm sorry for hurting you, Cory.
The section of my life so incredibly influenced by Taylor Swift was when I in and falling out of love with Matthew James Ross. The summer before my senior year of high school, I began dating Matt. Reluctantly at first, I slowly but surely fell in love with this kid and fell hard. We spent almost every day together for six months. He opened doors, he paid for meals, he called every night. He was a real gentleman, we were a real "we" and I was in love. I told him everything and for the first time I saw a future with someone. We fought and joked and kissed. Our song was "Just A Kiss" by Lady Antebellum but my song for him was "Mine" by T-Swizzle. At a time when was still very angry with the way my father lived his life, I didn't want anything to do with love before Matt. I had an idea that everyone that loved me would just leave when things got tough. I truly believed Matt wouldn't. This song is describing exactly that. "You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter, you are the best thing that's ever been mine." I would have tattooed that onto my skin at that point of my life.
Months later, Matt would leave. We were in my 2004 Pontiac Grand Am parked in his driveway. He stared at me for a long time with the words, "I'm sorry" riddled in his gazed. Eventually, I asked him, "Are you breaking up with me?" Then the words escaped his eyes and tears escaped mine. After a minute of shock and tears, I began saying, "If we're breaking up, get out of my car." I drove home but weirdly stopped crying almost immediately after I turned off of his street. It was strange but I think I was in shock.
For the next month, the song "Last Kiss" would become my anthem. This was so perfect I couldn't handle it. The bridge of this song makes me cry even to this day. "So I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep, I'll feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe, and I'll keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are." That is one of the most beautiful break up lyrics of all time. Another lyric of the song that I followed to a T was, "So I'll go sit on the floor wearing your clothes." I had a sweatshirt of his that I sobbed into for a week before giving it back to him at lunch one day. This song helped me cry it out and really feel the pain of losing someone you love.
Soon my sadness turned to anger. Matt and I were also in the same youth group. Our friends were all friends. So I fell in love with a song called, "The Story of Us." The lyric that I remember singing into my hairbrush before school was, "I'm starting to think one day I'll tell the story of us how I was losing my mind when I saw you here, but you held your pride like you should've held me" That lyric was perfect already but became even more perfect when he later told me he didn't get back with me because he didn't want his parents, who told him that breaking up with me was a mistake, to be right. An honorable mention from this song, "This is looking like a contest of who can act like they careless." Because holy shit it was.
In high school, Taylor released a song called "Mean." "Mean" was the song that represents my middle school experience. This song was not out when I was in middle school but once I heard it, it became my anthem. "Some day I'll be living in a big ole city, and all you're ever gonna be is mean, some day I'll be big enough so you can't hit me and all you're ever gonna be is mean." Quick update, I did move to a big ole city and the people that made my life hell, are still just mean.
Now I'm going to leave a name out for the sake of respect:
When I was 19, I had a sexual relationship with a 23 year old man who thought I was too young to date. Let me re-phrase that. I was too young to date but old enough to fuck. To make matters worse, he did the same to many of my friends and we all were too naive to know until it was too late. He really hurt me for a long time and my song for him was "Dear John." This song is, again, PERFECT, "Dear John, I see it all now, it was wrong, don't you think 19's too young to be played by your dark twisted games when I loved you so, I should've known...never impressed by me acing your tests, all the girls that you've run dry have tired lifeless eyes cause you burned them out." It even said my age, people! She is the goddess of lyrics.
Then something magical happened. RED came out. RED is my favorite album, even more so than 1989. This is her best break up album. This came out in a time of my life that I was so confused about love. I thought the only thing it did was hurt you and leave you in the gutter wounded, salty. This album gave me a new hope. RED taught me that we all hurt but that's not a reason to stop being yourself. I had about 3 flings in the time of RED and I identified a bunch of different songs with each. But never really connected too deeply with the actually stories of RED.
Then came along Charles Wayne Boyles and RED made sense. Especially the song, "Red", the opening lyric, "Loving him was like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street, faster than the wind passionate as sin ending so suddenly." I knew from the beginning this thing wouldn't end too well so that song understood how it felt to be that in love that quickly.
After our break up, the song "All Too Well" became a trigger song. I still cry when this song comes on in the shower. This song contains my favorite lyric not only of Taylor Swift's but of all time. "You tell me about your past thinking your future was me."
This song captures gaining and losing love in a way no one else has been able to for me. For many months, this lyric, "Time won't fly it's like I'm paralyzed by it, I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it, after plaid shirt days and nights where you made me your own." was the way I felt about this failed relationship. I had become used to having him around to comfort me and help me. I lost myself in making him happy and forgot that I'm a person with needs to and he didn't meet them. I asked for a letter, he gave me a picture of a lamp.
Then something else happened while I was in the middle of this odd on and off sexual and emotional relationship with Charles. 1989 came to the world in screaming color. "Out of the Woods" became my song for him. The song asked two simple questions, "Are we out of the woods yet?...Are we in the clear yet?" This relationship felt like that song sounded. When would we really be done with each other? When would we finally move on? When would we get over the fact that this thing wasn't going to work?
"When the sun came up you were looking at me." reminding me of the many nights we spent together followed by many mornings. Charles was the first relationship that felt adult-like. We didn't have parents telling us we couldn't be in each others rooms or that we couldn't touch on the couch. I woke up next to him often and felt so happy.
The demise of Charles and I could only be explained in one song. Any guesses? "Clean" is the last track on her album and was on repeat on my iPod during the Megabus ride home after we decided not to speak anymore. "It was months and months of back and forth, you're still all over me like a wine stained dress I can't wear anymore." and "By morning, gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean." were among the best parts. I was finally free to live the life I wanted without pining over him. It felt good and this song helped me feel better.
Another song I must mention is Blank Space. This song was huge in my life. I listened to this song at least 3 times a day. This song came out at a time when I was feeling like every relationship I'd been in was meant to burn down in flames. Though she wrote this satirically, I related. All my relationships seemed to end in similar ways and this song sort of followed the pattern. I would often replace the lyric, "Find out what you want, be that girl for a month," with "be that girl for 3 months." because many of my flings lasted exactly 3 months, no joke. Singing this song was great way to get out all that aggression I felt for my failed relationships. It helped me laugh at them and see them as just blips on the radar of my life.
On December 10th, 2015, I received a call that David Michaels had died. He was my best friend for over 2 years in Ohio. We got in a fight of sorts and I walked out of his life. 10 months later, he killed himself and I'm still having a hard time forgiving myself. Much to my surprise, Taylor Swift helped this situation as well. Her song, "I Wish You Would," described how I felt. "I wish you would come back, wish I never hung up the phone like I did, I wish you knew that I'll never forget you as long as I live, and I wish you were right here right now, its all good, I wish you would...I wish we could go back and remember what we were fighting for and I wish you knew that I miss you too much to be mad anymore, wish you were right here right now, it's all good, I wish you would." Those were the words running through my brain for 3 months.
Today, I'm "with" someone and still find songs of hers that remind me of him. The song, "Come Back Be Here" which is a bonus track from RED is my current song. This one is a bit sadder than I feel but she captures the feeling of long distance very well. "We stumble through the long goodbye, one last kiss then catch your flight, right when I was just about to fall, I told myself, don't get attached, but in my mind I play it back, spinning faster than the plane that took you, this is when the feeling sets in, I don't wanna miss you like this." Spot on for the days I haven't heard from him in days, wondering if things will be the same when he gets back.
Okay. We've made it to the end and the moral. Taylor Swift is more than a pop star to me and many people. She has taught me to be honest, feel what you feel and turn it into art. So if anyone ever wonders what my obsession is with her, I can tell them to read this and understand how when I listen to her music, I feel like someone is on my side. I feel the pain in the songs and then often have a moment of clarity. She's grown up with me. I feel like she goes through the exact same feeling and emotions as me but years earlier and then releases the album as I'm going through it. It's a magical effect she has on my life and I can't wait to grow old with her and her music.
Also I might get my hair cut like her.......
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Monday, July 13, 2015
Happy Birthday Jordan Lee Cohen.
Dear Jordan,
I'm a terrible friend and haven't gotten you anything yet for your birthday, not even a card. So to appease this transgression, I'm devoting an entire blog post to you.
The first time I saw your beautiful face was on September 2nd, 2014 in Jeff Grigg's Improvisational Techniques 1 class. You were wearing a dress I believe and had a flame in your eyes for the art of improv. I remember thinking while we were warming up, "Fuck, this girl is good."
Fast forward to you, on September 7th, 2014, messaging me on Facebook asking to go to the free improv set at Second City. You always thought it was weird that you did that but I was glad. I have always known that you were the kind of person I wanted to be around.
Jordan Lee Cohen, I often tell you this, but you inspire me on a daily basis. From the way you work, to the way you love other people, I'm always in awe of you. There have been so many times that I've needed you and you've always been there for me. Half of the time it was you saying, "Stop that, dummy." Other times it was a quiet and loving, "You are going to be okay."
My favorite thing about our relationship is that I believe with my whole heart that we were meant to meet and help each other through this strange transition in our lives. If I didn't have you, I might have given up a long time ago. Your presence in my life is felt every day even if we don't always talk.
One of my favorite things about you is your ability to make people feel at ease. Almost everyone you meet (Except Charles lol) feels better about themselves after having met you. You have a wonderful ability to make people feel important and cared for. This is another thing that makes you a great improviser. One of the best I've ever seen. I often imagine you on the ETC stage and it's not a far fetched fantasy, it's actually rather vivid. It will happen. Just keep going girl.
HOLY SHIT. I almost forgot to talk about the work you produce. Girl. Keep making that shit. The world needs to hear from you. Whether that's sketch, improv, or stand up, keep making stuff. You are very good at this little thing we call "comedy". People are attracted to you when you speak. I know I am. That's why I have too many videos of your beautiful red hair on my phone. I don't want to fuel your ego, but you're very talented.
On another note, I'm always proud of you. Don't ever forget that. You've come so far within the last 10 months in Chicago and you've only just begun. I'm your Chicago stage mom and will support you in all of your endeavors.
I don't know what else to say other than I'm so blessed to have you in my life and I can't wait to see what the future holds for you. Wait, I'm sorry, I can't wait to see what you yank out of the future because you are a do-er, not a dreamer.
I love you so much Jersey. I'm here as long as you want me. Thanks for letting me be a part of your life.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY.
LOVE,
Nickelback
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
I'm a terrible friend and haven't gotten you anything yet for your birthday, not even a card. So to appease this transgression, I'm devoting an entire blog post to you.
The first time I saw your beautiful face was on September 2nd, 2014 in Jeff Grigg's Improvisational Techniques 1 class. You were wearing a dress I believe and had a flame in your eyes for the art of improv. I remember thinking while we were warming up, "Fuck, this girl is good."
Fast forward to you, on September 7th, 2014, messaging me on Facebook asking to go to the free improv set at Second City. You always thought it was weird that you did that but I was glad. I have always known that you were the kind of person I wanted to be around.
Jordan Lee Cohen, I often tell you this, but you inspire me on a daily basis. From the way you work, to the way you love other people, I'm always in awe of you. There have been so many times that I've needed you and you've always been there for me. Half of the time it was you saying, "Stop that, dummy." Other times it was a quiet and loving, "You are going to be okay."
My favorite thing about our relationship is that I believe with my whole heart that we were meant to meet and help each other through this strange transition in our lives. If I didn't have you, I might have given up a long time ago. Your presence in my life is felt every day even if we don't always talk.
One of my favorite things about you is your ability to make people feel at ease. Almost everyone you meet (Except Charles lol) feels better about themselves after having met you. You have a wonderful ability to make people feel important and cared for. This is another thing that makes you a great improviser. One of the best I've ever seen. I often imagine you on the ETC stage and it's not a far fetched fantasy, it's actually rather vivid. It will happen. Just keep going girl.
HOLY SHIT. I almost forgot to talk about the work you produce. Girl. Keep making that shit. The world needs to hear from you. Whether that's sketch, improv, or stand up, keep making stuff. You are very good at this little thing we call "comedy". People are attracted to you when you speak. I know I am. That's why I have too many videos of your beautiful red hair on my phone. I don't want to fuel your ego, but you're very talented.
On another note, I'm always proud of you. Don't ever forget that. You've come so far within the last 10 months in Chicago and you've only just begun. I'm your Chicago stage mom and will support you in all of your endeavors.
I don't know what else to say other than I'm so blessed to have you in my life and I can't wait to see what the future holds for you. Wait, I'm sorry, I can't wait to see what you yank out of the future because you are a do-er, not a dreamer.
I love you so much Jersey. I'm here as long as you want me. Thanks for letting me be a part of your life.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY.
LOVE,
Nickelback
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Thursday, July 2, 2015
Tay-Tay For the Win
I'm actually under the belief that Taylor Swift has written/will write a song for everything. Here's a song that was me about a month ago.
"This is falling in love in the cruelest way, this is falling for you when you are worlds away."
https://youtu.be/WRR1cM-l0RU
Enjoy, all you love birds in different time zones. It's a good one.
Happy Fourth of July.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
"This is falling in love in the cruelest way, this is falling for you when you are worlds away."
https://youtu.be/WRR1cM-l0RU
Enjoy, all you love birds in different time zones. It's a good one.
Happy Fourth of July.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Sunday, June 21, 2015
Happy Deadbeat Fathers Day
Hey there father infested internet! I hope everyone is enjoying time with their fathers or at least had a nice long talk about some sports event or fixing something in your apartment. I have not called my father yet seeing as he is probably napping because he is a feeble old man at the ripe age of 52. But I'm not going to spend this whole blog tearing into John. I'm passed that. Instead, I'm going to say a few words for those without a father today.
John Back was never really a father to me. This man has never given me an advice other than the classic, "Take it easy, brother!" (A mantra for the ages). My dad fell, not only out of my life, but out of his own life many moons ago and I still mourn this like a death. No one should grow up without the support of both parents but unfortunately it happens. My dad chose his pain over me. He chose to live a spiteful life full of regrets and anger instead of enjoying a life with the family that he created, even with it a little broken.
It took me many years to even understand that last sentence. I ALWAYS blamed myself. I said, "Maybe if I was less like my mom, maybe if I was funnier, maybe if I was more like my brothers, maybe he would want to be in my life. Maybe I would have a dad if I was different." I have only recently realized that I'm perfectly fine the way I am. Changing myself never would have helped him because it was up to him to change himself. My dad is the kind of person who lives in constantly anger. He could never focus on the joy of his life. He had three beautiful, hilarious children every weekend and what did we do? Watch Sport Center and play Craps while he drank Milwaukee's Best Light and faded in and out of consciousness. Then when Sunday came, he would send us to my Grandma's so he could get more drunk alone. Not a fun time. But he didn't know how else to deal. The reason for the divorce was this behavior so why would he change? He wouldn't because that's not what he was taught to do. He was taught that when bad things happen, it's always someone else's fault and not his own. When you grow up like that, you never feel the need to change.
Now when I feel sad about my dad and his lack of a presence in my life, I think about what life would have been like if I was raised with these same ideas and I feel lucky. I was lucky to have other people in my life to teach me that life shouldn't be like that. Matt Hayes, specifically, was the best replacement dad a girl could have. Matt Hayes was my youth minister. Throughout my high school career, he taught me that life is scary and sad and funny and wonderful. We just have to laugh with and at it. He taught me that I'm not defined by what has happened to me. I'm defined by my own actions. I'm defined by how I react to these things. I will always wish Matt a Happy Fathers Day because he is really the person who raised me into the woman I am today. Now Matt has 4 daughters of his own and I'm so excited for the way those girls will love the world. Same goes for his son. Anyone who comes from Crystal and Matt's DNA will be good people and will help the world. I just know it. Thank you, Baby Face. You're the best. I hope you're having the best Father's Day!
I can't forget my mother as well. This woman divorced my dad to become the woman she was always supposed to be. She stopped accepting this behavior from him and made a change. That decision may have wrecked my dad but it saved my mother's life. Again, I cannot imagine growing up in a household with my dad. My dad constantly making my mother feel less than, telling her that she was average and me watching this and believing this is how relationships are supposed to be. My mother had the courage to get out of an emotionally abusive relationship and I can never thank her enough. Once she did that for herself, life became very hard for her and our family. We moved a lot, she had some trouble with my brothers and has been lonely for a long time. BUT she is exactly who she wants to be. This was the most wonderful example to grow up around. The idea of being yourself no matter how hard that may be stayed with me and helped me through the disaster I call adolescence. I was a strange child. I was picked on a lot for being different. That's very normal. But I was lucky to have a mom that said, "You are unique in your own way. You are Stargirl. Don't you EVER let ANYONE dull your shine." If it weren't for her, I would not be the quirky, goofy, emotional person I am today. I would have submitted to being just like everyone else and that sounds terribly boring. Thank you, Shyrleen Elizabeth Doughty and Happy Father's Day.
I have one last thing to say about my dad and why I don't get sad about this topic anymore. My dad's life must be so sad. I look around at all of the people I love, how much fun I'm having on a daily basis, and how the choice of happiness is the best decision ever to be made. Then I look at the life of John Back. Alone. Drunk 24/7. Only friend is his mother. He made his decision and he chose wrong. He doesn't have me in his life and that is sad. I'm a very good daughter who would have brought him so much joy if he fucking paid attention to anything but his pain. So I can't be angry with him anymore. I recently sent him a letter that received no response. For those who know me, you know that if I send you a letter, I care a lot about you. Postage is a serious expense to me and I don't do it lightly. Mail brightens people's day. In a world full of notifications and texts, letters are a wonderful way to show that I care enough to take time to sit down and focus on the entertainment of one person for a couple of minutes. That really means something to me. I did this for my dead beat dad because I thought about how this could possibly brighten his dark world. Everyone loves mail. Even an angry old man. So I sent it with the hope of making him smile for once. I honestly hope he did.
IN CONCLUSION, for everyone out there having a hard day not focusing on the hole a fatherless life can leave, look around at the people who were there and thank them today. Your family is not limited to those who share your blood, it is also the people that choose you to this day. They say, "I'm sticking around even though I don't have to." Love those people today. Male, female, or dog. Love them because everyone needs to hear that they're doing something right. Also, if you can bring yourself to do it, be the bigger person, and call him. It might be the only joy he'll find today.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
John Back was never really a father to me. This man has never given me an advice other than the classic, "Take it easy, brother!" (A mantra for the ages). My dad fell, not only out of my life, but out of his own life many moons ago and I still mourn this like a death. No one should grow up without the support of both parents but unfortunately it happens. My dad chose his pain over me. He chose to live a spiteful life full of regrets and anger instead of enjoying a life with the family that he created, even with it a little broken.
It took me many years to even understand that last sentence. I ALWAYS blamed myself. I said, "Maybe if I was less like my mom, maybe if I was funnier, maybe if I was more like my brothers, maybe he would want to be in my life. Maybe I would have a dad if I was different." I have only recently realized that I'm perfectly fine the way I am. Changing myself never would have helped him because it was up to him to change himself. My dad is the kind of person who lives in constantly anger. He could never focus on the joy of his life. He had three beautiful, hilarious children every weekend and what did we do? Watch Sport Center and play Craps while he drank Milwaukee's Best Light and faded in and out of consciousness. Then when Sunday came, he would send us to my Grandma's so he could get more drunk alone. Not a fun time. But he didn't know how else to deal. The reason for the divorce was this behavior so why would he change? He wouldn't because that's not what he was taught to do. He was taught that when bad things happen, it's always someone else's fault and not his own. When you grow up like that, you never feel the need to change.
Now when I feel sad about my dad and his lack of a presence in my life, I think about what life would have been like if I was raised with these same ideas and I feel lucky. I was lucky to have other people in my life to teach me that life shouldn't be like that. Matt Hayes, specifically, was the best replacement dad a girl could have. Matt Hayes was my youth minister. Throughout my high school career, he taught me that life is scary and sad and funny and wonderful. We just have to laugh with and at it. He taught me that I'm not defined by what has happened to me. I'm defined by my own actions. I'm defined by how I react to these things. I will always wish Matt a Happy Fathers Day because he is really the person who raised me into the woman I am today. Now Matt has 4 daughters of his own and I'm so excited for the way those girls will love the world. Same goes for his son. Anyone who comes from Crystal and Matt's DNA will be good people and will help the world. I just know it. Thank you, Baby Face. You're the best. I hope you're having the best Father's Day!
I can't forget my mother as well. This woman divorced my dad to become the woman she was always supposed to be. She stopped accepting this behavior from him and made a change. That decision may have wrecked my dad but it saved my mother's life. Again, I cannot imagine growing up in a household with my dad. My dad constantly making my mother feel less than, telling her that she was average and me watching this and believing this is how relationships are supposed to be. My mother had the courage to get out of an emotionally abusive relationship and I can never thank her enough. Once she did that for herself, life became very hard for her and our family. We moved a lot, she had some trouble with my brothers and has been lonely for a long time. BUT she is exactly who she wants to be. This was the most wonderful example to grow up around. The idea of being yourself no matter how hard that may be stayed with me and helped me through the disaster I call adolescence. I was a strange child. I was picked on a lot for being different. That's very normal. But I was lucky to have a mom that said, "You are unique in your own way. You are Stargirl. Don't you EVER let ANYONE dull your shine." If it weren't for her, I would not be the quirky, goofy, emotional person I am today. I would have submitted to being just like everyone else and that sounds terribly boring. Thank you, Shyrleen Elizabeth Doughty and Happy Father's Day.
I have one last thing to say about my dad and why I don't get sad about this topic anymore. My dad's life must be so sad. I look around at all of the people I love, how much fun I'm having on a daily basis, and how the choice of happiness is the best decision ever to be made. Then I look at the life of John Back. Alone. Drunk 24/7. Only friend is his mother. He made his decision and he chose wrong. He doesn't have me in his life and that is sad. I'm a very good daughter who would have brought him so much joy if he fucking paid attention to anything but his pain. So I can't be angry with him anymore. I recently sent him a letter that received no response. For those who know me, you know that if I send you a letter, I care a lot about you. Postage is a serious expense to me and I don't do it lightly. Mail brightens people's day. In a world full of notifications and texts, letters are a wonderful way to show that I care enough to take time to sit down and focus on the entertainment of one person for a couple of minutes. That really means something to me. I did this for my dead beat dad because I thought about how this could possibly brighten his dark world. Everyone loves mail. Even an angry old man. So I sent it with the hope of making him smile for once. I honestly hope he did.
IN CONCLUSION, for everyone out there having a hard day not focusing on the hole a fatherless life can leave, look around at the people who were there and thank them today. Your family is not limited to those who share your blood, it is also the people that choose you to this day. They say, "I'm sticking around even though I don't have to." Love those people today. Male, female, or dog. Love them because everyone needs to hear that they're doing something right. Also, if you can bring yourself to do it, be the bigger person, and call him. It might be the only joy he'll find today.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Sunday, June 7, 2015
Vegging Out
Summer 2015 is the last summer I get before I become a real human. I'm not paying rent (thanks to some beautiful friends of mine), I have a job that only needs me on the weekends meaning I get 4 days completely to myself, and I don't have any bills to pay (that will majorly affect my credit...Target REDCARD). This should be the summer of fun and youthful drinking. If I'm not drunk on Lake Michigan at least twice a month, I feel like I'm not doing my societal duty. This should also be the summer I can really focus on comedy.
I'm having a hard time doing either of those things. I find myself vegging out a little bit too much. I get out of work on Sunday night, I go home, perhaps smoke a little, watch some Doctor Who, listen to sappy lovey dovey music and/or Miniature Tigers (both have the same affect on my brain, heart and soul), and fall asleep. This repeats almost every day until Thursday when I have to go to my internship.
My main defense for this repeated behavior is that my first year at Columbia really took it out of me. I don't think I've ever been challenged in the way was there.
When I was at Sinclair, it was definitely difficult. But it was difficult because I was finally learning how to be a good student. After years of fighting my mother about school, I got to college and realized I really need to just take the time to do my work. It's crazy how being in a field you actually care about makes you want to do well. At Sinclair, I was putting in 12-14 hour days for several months of those two years. Class, working in the shop, and rehearsals made my life outside of school slim to none. Weekends and even after late night rehearsals were devoted to homework.
Now I know that this is a classic story of being a student. I know I'm not some saint or martyr for going through all this. I also know this would be easy in comparison to many others I've known. All I'm saying is that it was difficult for me. Very difficult but very rewarding.
At Sinclair, almost every moment of my time was scheduled for school or the costume shop. I remember during Spamalot (Fall 2013), I had a full schedule, shop hours when I wasn't in class, then would work more hours in the shop from 5-10pm. Then when the show opened, I was helping run front of house/box office before the show started then immediately ran backstage and worked on costume run crew, only to have to run back out and do my front of house duties after the show was over. That was one of the craziest and most fun experiences in my entire life. But the point is my life was incredibly scheduled.
At Columbia, this is not the case until my second semester. I had the luxury of On-Campus living, not having a job, and being able to focus only on school. This being said, it was one of the most emotionally and physically taxing years of my life so far (I know it'll get worse but for the better).
I took the work ethic I built at Sinclair and dove right into Columbia with open arms. My first semester, I did anything that was offered to me. I was auditioning regularly, going to Improv Club, doing improv jams, doing open mics, short films, film projects, etc. All of these things that were incredibly helpful in my second semester.
By my second semester, some people actually knew me. This is hard to do in a school as large as Columbia. I had worked with comedy majors, television majors, acting majors, directing majors and film majors. I was getting "work" without having to search it out. That's a real blessing but spoiled me a little.
Now I'm still getting work even in the summer, but I've lost the drive to search for it. I should be going to open mics and improv jams as religiously as I was that first semester but I feel myself getting comfortable. The same thing happened in Dayton. I started to take all of these opportunities for granted instead of diving in and enjoying the hustle and bustle of it all.
Columbia also challenged me differently because it taught me that making my own work is not only a possibility but also very important. Before this point, I always felt like I had to wait until I was good enough. From the many artsy fartsy classes I took in the past two semesters, I've learned you won't be good unless you make shitty work. Shitty work that you love. I had a stage manager at Sinclair that always used to tell us this Chinese proverb or Yogi teabag quote (I'm not sure which), "You cannot change something that doesn't exist." When I got the Columbia, that finally applied to my comedy. I had to get rid of the fear of being wrong, and replace it with a hope to improve. Revising is the key to success when it comes to anything but especially in comedy. You have to do it to see if it works. If it's sitting in your brain, you'll never know. I had to learn to just put it on paper and try not to cringe too much when it was read aloud in class.
I haven't written a joke or a sketch for about a month and I feel like a waste of space. I find things funny. I have good ideas. I just get stuck in my vegetable state and tell myself I'll do it later. I find I can't work where I sleep. There is no inspiration in a place that I see every day. Coffee shops are my writing sanctuary but I haven't had the money to go and spend a day at one. Now I have to money but still haven't. I keep telling myself it's because of this or that or another dumb excuse but it's really just laziness. I'm tired from the semester but I can't stop because of that. I've got to keep making work. What's going to happen when I graduate? Am I just going to stop because I don't have a teacher breathing down my neck? If I keep the same mentality, probably. I need to start getting into the habit of writing on the regular. Whether that's weekly or daily, I'm not sure yet but it needs to be on a regular schedule.
I'm also embarrassed by how much I think about this boy instead of comedy. I'm notoriously boy crazy but I thought I had calmed down after my last lesson/relationship. I do miss him and I'm not going to play it cool and pretend I don't. Now I'm not always thinking about him. When I'm with friends or at work, I focus on what's happening and live my fucking life. I'm not that pathetic. My problem is that whenever my mind wanders, it wanders to him. This does not help me stay motivated at all. My friends say he'll be back before I know it but I feel like that advice is only valid if I keep busy. If I sit around waiting for him to snapchat me, the time will pass terribly slowly.
I have no ending to this blog because I haven't quite figured out what I'm going to do about it yet. Monday, I'm going to lunch with one of my future roommates, then I'm going straight to a coffee shop to figure this shit out. I won't wait for the next school year or a boy to come home. I need to get in the habit of making my life happen, not waiting. Whether that's auditioning like crazy, improvising every chance I get, or writing my own ANYTHING, I need to start doing it now. That's all I know.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
I'm having a hard time doing either of those things. I find myself vegging out a little bit too much. I get out of work on Sunday night, I go home, perhaps smoke a little, watch some Doctor Who, listen to sappy lovey dovey music and/or Miniature Tigers (both have the same affect on my brain, heart and soul), and fall asleep. This repeats almost every day until Thursday when I have to go to my internship.
My main defense for this repeated behavior is that my first year at Columbia really took it out of me. I don't think I've ever been challenged in the way was there.
When I was at Sinclair, it was definitely difficult. But it was difficult because I was finally learning how to be a good student. After years of fighting my mother about school, I got to college and realized I really need to just take the time to do my work. It's crazy how being in a field you actually care about makes you want to do well. At Sinclair, I was putting in 12-14 hour days for several months of those two years. Class, working in the shop, and rehearsals made my life outside of school slim to none. Weekends and even after late night rehearsals were devoted to homework.
Now I know that this is a classic story of being a student. I know I'm not some saint or martyr for going through all this. I also know this would be easy in comparison to many others I've known. All I'm saying is that it was difficult for me. Very difficult but very rewarding.
At Sinclair, almost every moment of my time was scheduled for school or the costume shop. I remember during Spamalot (Fall 2013), I had a full schedule, shop hours when I wasn't in class, then would work more hours in the shop from 5-10pm. Then when the show opened, I was helping run front of house/box office before the show started then immediately ran backstage and worked on costume run crew, only to have to run back out and do my front of house duties after the show was over. That was one of the craziest and most fun experiences in my entire life. But the point is my life was incredibly scheduled.
At Columbia, this is not the case until my second semester. I had the luxury of On-Campus living, not having a job, and being able to focus only on school. This being said, it was one of the most emotionally and physically taxing years of my life so far (I know it'll get worse but for the better).
I took the work ethic I built at Sinclair and dove right into Columbia with open arms. My first semester, I did anything that was offered to me. I was auditioning regularly, going to Improv Club, doing improv jams, doing open mics, short films, film projects, etc. All of these things that were incredibly helpful in my second semester.
By my second semester, some people actually knew me. This is hard to do in a school as large as Columbia. I had worked with comedy majors, television majors, acting majors, directing majors and film majors. I was getting "work" without having to search it out. That's a real blessing but spoiled me a little.
Now I'm still getting work even in the summer, but I've lost the drive to search for it. I should be going to open mics and improv jams as religiously as I was that first semester but I feel myself getting comfortable. The same thing happened in Dayton. I started to take all of these opportunities for granted instead of diving in and enjoying the hustle and bustle of it all.
Columbia also challenged me differently because it taught me that making my own work is not only a possibility but also very important. Before this point, I always felt like I had to wait until I was good enough. From the many artsy fartsy classes I took in the past two semesters, I've learned you won't be good unless you make shitty work. Shitty work that you love. I had a stage manager at Sinclair that always used to tell us this Chinese proverb or Yogi teabag quote (I'm not sure which), "You cannot change something that doesn't exist." When I got the Columbia, that finally applied to my comedy. I had to get rid of the fear of being wrong, and replace it with a hope to improve. Revising is the key to success when it comes to anything but especially in comedy. You have to do it to see if it works. If it's sitting in your brain, you'll never know. I had to learn to just put it on paper and try not to cringe too much when it was read aloud in class.
I haven't written a joke or a sketch for about a month and I feel like a waste of space. I find things funny. I have good ideas. I just get stuck in my vegetable state and tell myself I'll do it later. I find I can't work where I sleep. There is no inspiration in a place that I see every day. Coffee shops are my writing sanctuary but I haven't had the money to go and spend a day at one. Now I have to money but still haven't. I keep telling myself it's because of this or that or another dumb excuse but it's really just laziness. I'm tired from the semester but I can't stop because of that. I've got to keep making work. What's going to happen when I graduate? Am I just going to stop because I don't have a teacher breathing down my neck? If I keep the same mentality, probably. I need to start getting into the habit of writing on the regular. Whether that's weekly or daily, I'm not sure yet but it needs to be on a regular schedule.
I'm also embarrassed by how much I think about this boy instead of comedy. I'm notoriously boy crazy but I thought I had calmed down after my last lesson/relationship. I do miss him and I'm not going to play it cool and pretend I don't. Now I'm not always thinking about him. When I'm with friends or at work, I focus on what's happening and live my fucking life. I'm not that pathetic. My problem is that whenever my mind wanders, it wanders to him. This does not help me stay motivated at all. My friends say he'll be back before I know it but I feel like that advice is only valid if I keep busy. If I sit around waiting for him to snapchat me, the time will pass terribly slowly.
I have no ending to this blog because I haven't quite figured out what I'm going to do about it yet. Monday, I'm going to lunch with one of my future roommates, then I'm going straight to a coffee shop to figure this shit out. I won't wait for the next school year or a boy to come home. I need to get in the habit of making my life happen, not waiting. Whether that's auditioning like crazy, improvising every chance I get, or writing my own ANYTHING, I need to start doing it now. That's all I know.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Thursday, May 21, 2015
443 Miles
I HAVE SOME VERY EXCITING NEWS, WORLD!!! ARE YOU READY?!
I have, for the second summer in a row, found myself in a long distance relationship (or whatever)! Isn't that ever so exciting readers?! I'm very excited about this new commitment to always get feelings for the physically unattainable. I think it's the exact thing I need to never be sane again!
But seriously. The boy I've been talking about on here is now 443 miles away (no I didn't googlemaps that exact number; leave me alone) and will not be returning AT ALL until August. Upon hearing this for the first time, I was rather upset. Even though we weren't even slightly a thing when he told me, I realized that if this became a "thing" I would, yet again, have to deal with the nasty beast of distance. Luckily, I'm no stranger to LDR's (as they call them on Pinterest).
Last summer, I was in a relationship with the infamous Charles. Actually, we went on our first date a year ago yesterday so the timing of my whining is perfect. Charles lived in Columbus while I lived in Dayton. That is about an hour and a half drive if you're speeding. This doesn't seem like a huge distance to most but for two poor college kids, it was difficult. We saw each other MAYBE once a week but often would go two weeks or so without seeing each other. Twas difficult for us.
Being the terribly insecure person I was before I moved to Chicago, I was always terrified he'd fall out of love with me. The distance made me unable to get the constant reassurance I needed at the time. I would sit around and try to think of ways to keep myself on his mind. I called often, texted often, and even sent him a letter hoping to start a mail based dialogue. That letter became a major point of contention in our relationship because he never replied. But that is a separate issue I may bring up in the future (hopefully not). The point of mentioning all of that is that I became obsessed with the idea of proof that he existed. At that point in time, I was also months away from moving to Chicago and knew we were going to break up the minute I started the car. So this obsession with proof was fueled by our inevitable doom. This made me live in a constant state of sadness and dread. Knowing that I would only have him for so long made it hard to enjoy the time I had with him. At a time when I should have been enjoying myself and the people around me, I was worried about whether a boy was thinking about me and missing me as much as I was missing him. This was so foolish and fills me with regret. Not only is that a bad way to go about a relationship it also affected the relationship in a serious way. When you think about something too much, you start to over think and put more meaning into everything. What I mean by that can only be explained by telling you that by the end of the summer, I basically told him he was the greatest love of my life and that I wanted to marry him. We had only known each other for 3 months. Over thinking caused me to idolize this man into my soulmate when he should have been put in my book as just a guy I loved. I'm still embarrassed by that to this day.
My current long distance relationship (or whatever) is under significantly different circumstances. We started seeing each other (whatever that means) a couple of months before distance became an issue, at the end of the summer we will live in the same city, and I'm no longer searching for the same reassurance. The great part about a second time, is that you learn from the first. I know exactly where this relationship (or whatever) stands, I know he misses me too, and I know that I get to choose what upsets me. All of those things combined will make this summer significantly easier. I won't spend the next three months dreaming of his return. I may spend a couple of minutes...let's be honest, hours but I won't spend the bulk of my time thinking about it. I will spend time with my friends, focus on work, write some good comedy, and do a little traveling to the state of New Jersey (Jordan Lee Cohen).
Conclusion paragraph: I'm gonna be happy even though the boy that makes me the happiest is miles away. The end. (Check back in a month when I'm crying about it again)
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
I have, for the second summer in a row, found myself in a long distance relationship (or whatever)! Isn't that ever so exciting readers?! I'm very excited about this new commitment to always get feelings for the physically unattainable. I think it's the exact thing I need to never be sane again!
But seriously. The boy I've been talking about on here is now 443 miles away (no I didn't googlemaps that exact number; leave me alone) and will not be returning AT ALL until August. Upon hearing this for the first time, I was rather upset. Even though we weren't even slightly a thing when he told me, I realized that if this became a "thing" I would, yet again, have to deal with the nasty beast of distance. Luckily, I'm no stranger to LDR's (as they call them on Pinterest).
Last summer, I was in a relationship with the infamous Charles. Actually, we went on our first date a year ago yesterday so the timing of my whining is perfect. Charles lived in Columbus while I lived in Dayton. That is about an hour and a half drive if you're speeding. This doesn't seem like a huge distance to most but for two poor college kids, it was difficult. We saw each other MAYBE once a week but often would go two weeks or so without seeing each other. Twas difficult for us.
Being the terribly insecure person I was before I moved to Chicago, I was always terrified he'd fall out of love with me. The distance made me unable to get the constant reassurance I needed at the time. I would sit around and try to think of ways to keep myself on his mind. I called often, texted often, and even sent him a letter hoping to start a mail based dialogue. That letter became a major point of contention in our relationship because he never replied. But that is a separate issue I may bring up in the future (hopefully not). The point of mentioning all of that is that I became obsessed with the idea of proof that he existed. At that point in time, I was also months away from moving to Chicago and knew we were going to break up the minute I started the car. So this obsession with proof was fueled by our inevitable doom. This made me live in a constant state of sadness and dread. Knowing that I would only have him for so long made it hard to enjoy the time I had with him. At a time when I should have been enjoying myself and the people around me, I was worried about whether a boy was thinking about me and missing me as much as I was missing him. This was so foolish and fills me with regret. Not only is that a bad way to go about a relationship it also affected the relationship in a serious way. When you think about something too much, you start to over think and put more meaning into everything. What I mean by that can only be explained by telling you that by the end of the summer, I basically told him he was the greatest love of my life and that I wanted to marry him. We had only known each other for 3 months. Over thinking caused me to idolize this man into my soulmate when he should have been put in my book as just a guy I loved. I'm still embarrassed by that to this day.
My current long distance relationship (or whatever) is under significantly different circumstances. We started seeing each other (whatever that means) a couple of months before distance became an issue, at the end of the summer we will live in the same city, and I'm no longer searching for the same reassurance. The great part about a second time, is that you learn from the first. I know exactly where this relationship (or whatever) stands, I know he misses me too, and I know that I get to choose what upsets me. All of those things combined will make this summer significantly easier. I won't spend the next three months dreaming of his return. I may spend a couple of minutes...let's be honest, hours but I won't spend the bulk of my time thinking about it. I will spend time with my friends, focus on work, write some good comedy, and do a little traveling to the state of New Jersey (Jordan Lee Cohen).
Conclusion paragraph: I'm gonna be happy even though the boy that makes me the happiest is miles away. The end. (Check back in a month when I'm crying about it again)
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Saturday, May 16, 2015
Chicago Changed Me.
On August 26th 2014 (when I moved to Chicago), May 16th 2015 and a woman president felt equally as far away. On this day, Hilary is running and I'm sitting in an apartment I call mine, feeling that Chicago breeze on my bare freckled arms. On this day, I have finished my first year of school here with a 3.5 GPA and my first set of comedy classes under my belt. On this day, even when the loud ass train awoke me from my deep slumber, I awoke with a (slightly dumb) smile on my face.
Ladies and homosexual males, I fucking did it. Though I can never forget about the tremendous amount of debt this put me in, I fucking live in Chicago and made a happy life for myself here. With the safety net of on-campus housing, a meal plan and the support of my beautiful wonderful mama, I was able to completely focus on my art (yeah, I hate me too for calling it that), making lasting friends (see: I'm normal again), and bettering myself (nope, I'm gross).
Chicago changed me.
Existing in this city made me realize one very important thing; I don't want to JUST exist.
When I began feeling overwhelmed with the volume of human lives around me at any given moment, I started to realize that so many of those people are just alive to pay bills until they die. They aren't creating anything or leaving any positive impact on the world they are lucky enough to be a part of. This is my biggest fear. The meaning of life is unknowable. People have searched for it for centuries and came up empty handed. I know that. Some people think because of that life is pointless. Why should I try when I'm just going to die anyway? I thought for a very long time. Well, I see it the opposite way now. If I'm only going to be on this earth for 80 years, I better make them count. I want to leave something good on this doomed planet. Though I'm not exactly sure what that is yet, I still seek it. Whether it's a large filmography that is guaranteed to make generations laugh and cry, or a couple of human beings who believe the same thing and actually do something about it, I will be happy with the way my life turns out as long as it helps. I know I've done so much damage to the world as it is by not sorting my recycling properly. Hopefully, it will even out.
Another HUGE lesson I've learned here in this beautiful city, is that everything in life is a choice. Whenever I feel like complaining about how much homework I have or how much I don't want to go to a rehearsal, I stop and remind myself that I chose this. If I really think these things are ridiculous and pointless, I should drop out and go be a cashier in Ohio until I die. I could have done that instead. But I didn't. I applied to Columbia to work hard and get better. Most of the time, to get better you have to do a lot of crap you don't want to do. Not every assignment is going to be easy or fun, even in comedy school, most aren't, but there is something to be learned after the hard work is done. This applies to life in general as well. It will not always be easy, most of the time it won't. But I'm choosing to be on this earth. I could've made another choice many times but I didn't so I need to take the highs and the lows and know that each shall pass in their own time. My job is to decide who to deal with both. Today, I decide I'll be happy either way.
I know my mom is going to roll her eyes at this next section. "Sydney, I think you should leave your relationships with men out of your blog." Sorry mom, it ain't gonna happen. I did actually learn a very simple but impossible lesson about relationships, both platonic and romantic. Are you ready? If it doesn't make your life easier or more fun, you don't need it. Life is hard enough without negative ass people around you. I've been incredibly busy this entire semester. I've been so busy that when I finally got time to relax it felt foreign. I began to finally value time with people who I can truly relax with. My best friends are the ones I don't have to put on an act for, the ones I can be quiet and boring with. Don't get me wrong, I'll bit all over these friends when the time is right but there is also a time for watching movies and eating a block of cheese with someone who has watched you vomit while you were dressed as a formal apology (hilarious costume right?). There is no better way to spend a Thursday night. Bonding I mean; bonding is the best way to spend a Thursday night! Vomiting is not recommended.
On the romantic side, I've realized that if I feel like I'm wasting time with a boy, I am wasting my time. If I don't feel refreshed or, dare I say, happy upon leaving our encounter, I should probably stop encountering him. The boy I'm with (or whatever) right now feels like an old friend. We do bits, smash bits, and talk more than a little bit. I'd be comfortable doing just about anything with him. That is the kind of person I want to be with. Basically a friend who likes to touch my butt. It's really that simple and no one should settle for anything else. Because it's seriously wonderful.
All in all, my first year at Columbia was exactly as wonderful, life-changing, and tear ridden as I thought it would be. I'm a better person today than I was August 26th and that's really all I can ask for. Now I get to experience a summer in the city. I've been told the summers make the winters absolutely worth it. I hope so because this 21 year old body is READY for crop top season. My body is not ready, on the other hand, for the amount of pale ales I'm going to digest within the coming months. But hey, my body will only tolerate crop tops AND heavy drinking for so long so WHY NOT?!?!
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Ladies and homosexual males, I fucking did it. Though I can never forget about the tremendous amount of debt this put me in, I fucking live in Chicago and made a happy life for myself here. With the safety net of on-campus housing, a meal plan and the support of my beautiful wonderful mama, I was able to completely focus on my art (yeah, I hate me too for calling it that), making lasting friends (see: I'm normal again), and bettering myself (nope, I'm gross).
Chicago changed me.
Existing in this city made me realize one very important thing; I don't want to JUST exist.
When I began feeling overwhelmed with the volume of human lives around me at any given moment, I started to realize that so many of those people are just alive to pay bills until they die. They aren't creating anything or leaving any positive impact on the world they are lucky enough to be a part of. This is my biggest fear. The meaning of life is unknowable. People have searched for it for centuries and came up empty handed. I know that. Some people think because of that life is pointless. Why should I try when I'm just going to die anyway? I thought for a very long time. Well, I see it the opposite way now. If I'm only going to be on this earth for 80 years, I better make them count. I want to leave something good on this doomed planet. Though I'm not exactly sure what that is yet, I still seek it. Whether it's a large filmography that is guaranteed to make generations laugh and cry, or a couple of human beings who believe the same thing and actually do something about it, I will be happy with the way my life turns out as long as it helps. I know I've done so much damage to the world as it is by not sorting my recycling properly. Hopefully, it will even out.
Another HUGE lesson I've learned here in this beautiful city, is that everything in life is a choice. Whenever I feel like complaining about how much homework I have or how much I don't want to go to a rehearsal, I stop and remind myself that I chose this. If I really think these things are ridiculous and pointless, I should drop out and go be a cashier in Ohio until I die. I could have done that instead. But I didn't. I applied to Columbia to work hard and get better. Most of the time, to get better you have to do a lot of crap you don't want to do. Not every assignment is going to be easy or fun, even in comedy school, most aren't, but there is something to be learned after the hard work is done. This applies to life in general as well. It will not always be easy, most of the time it won't. But I'm choosing to be on this earth. I could've made another choice many times but I didn't so I need to take the highs and the lows and know that each shall pass in their own time. My job is to decide who to deal with both. Today, I decide I'll be happy either way.
I know my mom is going to roll her eyes at this next section. "Sydney, I think you should leave your relationships with men out of your blog." Sorry mom, it ain't gonna happen. I did actually learn a very simple but impossible lesson about relationships, both platonic and romantic. Are you ready? If it doesn't make your life easier or more fun, you don't need it. Life is hard enough without negative ass people around you. I've been incredibly busy this entire semester. I've been so busy that when I finally got time to relax it felt foreign. I began to finally value time with people who I can truly relax with. My best friends are the ones I don't have to put on an act for, the ones I can be quiet and boring with. Don't get me wrong, I'll bit all over these friends when the time is right but there is also a time for watching movies and eating a block of cheese with someone who has watched you vomit while you were dressed as a formal apology (hilarious costume right?). There is no better way to spend a Thursday night. Bonding I mean; bonding is the best way to spend a Thursday night! Vomiting is not recommended.
On the romantic side, I've realized that if I feel like I'm wasting time with a boy, I am wasting my time. If I don't feel refreshed or, dare I say, happy upon leaving our encounter, I should probably stop encountering him. The boy I'm with (or whatever) right now feels like an old friend. We do bits, smash bits, and talk more than a little bit. I'd be comfortable doing just about anything with him. That is the kind of person I want to be with. Basically a friend who likes to touch my butt. It's really that simple and no one should settle for anything else. Because it's seriously wonderful.
All in all, my first year at Columbia was exactly as wonderful, life-changing, and tear ridden as I thought it would be. I'm a better person today than I was August 26th and that's really all I can ask for. Now I get to experience a summer in the city. I've been told the summers make the winters absolutely worth it. I hope so because this 21 year old body is READY for crop top season. My body is not ready, on the other hand, for the amount of pale ales I'm going to digest within the coming months. But hey, my body will only tolerate crop tops AND heavy drinking for so long so WHY NOT?!?!
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Thursday, May 7, 2015
Wink Wink Nudge Nudge
For those of you who don't know, I'm "talking" to a boy. As much as I would like to remain mysterious about who this boy is, there are some pretty adorable pictures of us from his birthday party on my Facebook. Check them out. They're so cute, I almost vomitted.
I know some of you, based on my past entries about boys, are expecting me to say phrases such as "I can't believe he wants to be with a girl like me," "he's changing my life," and/or "I can't imagine life without him." I have a feeling you may be expecting me to say, even after a month of "talking," that I love him.
If I said any of those things, I'd be lying.
Now don't get me wrong, I really like this boy. Holy crap, do I. I wake up in his bed at least three times a week! When I'm with him, it's like I'm with a good friend that I've known for many years. He makes me laugh and I constantly want to kiss him. Constantly. It's kind of ridiculous how much I want to kiss that beautiful, stubbly face of his. Sometimes, I "salivate" just thinking about him (if you know what I mean; wink wink nudge nudge). So yeah. I like him.
I like him but I'm not as madly in love with him as I was with my past boyfriends. I've said "I love you" to the last 3 boyfriends I've had within the first month. I was lying. I wasn't lying when I said it but I later came to realize I didn't mean it. I used to look at love as one of many stepping stones in a relationship. With each stepping stone, I thought I'd be happier and more fulfilled, not only in the relationship but as a person.
Step one: He likes me.
Step two: He kisses me.
Step three: We make out.
Step four: We have sex.
Step five: He asks me to be his girlfriend.
Step six: I say I love you.
Step seven: He says it back.
Step eight: He meets my family.
And so on...
That's how I thought relationships were supposed to go. Oh man was I wrong. I would say love too early because it was next on the list. Sadly, the list didn't include one important factor. Every time I said, "I love you," I might as well have been saying "I want you to love me." With every passing relationship, I see that I was just trying to fill a void. I've been in relationships that I knew would never last with because I didn't think I could find anyone else. I "needed" a person. I can honestly say, that is no longer the case. If he decided to stop talking to me tomorrow, I'm not gonna lie, I'd have a good long cry. I'd call Jordan and Glo, we'd watch Wet Hot American Summer and eat fried chicken until my tears turn into laughter. It will hurt like a bitch but I will survive. I love myself enough to know that having him in my life is a choice, not a necessity.
Not being madly in love with him right away has nothing to do with him as a person. It's not that the others were better or our "love" was more passionate. He isn't even different (he is much cooler but still a cute, funny boy). I'm different now. As I've been spending more and more time with this boy, I do feel the urge to call this love. I'll be watching him running around his room getting ready for the day, singing the objects he needs to put in his bookbag and I'll think, "Man, I love him." In that moment, I stop myself and realize this is just infatuation. Then I enjoy the moment rather than analyzing it as love. BECAUSE SERIOUSLY, he is so cute when he riffs the word "wallet."
My big moral for today is not mistaking love with infatuation, I guess. Also not letting this big scary monster called "love" get in the way of things too soon. If you find yourself liking someone and feeling those butterflies, try to take a step back and separate those two deceivingly similar feelings. It has helped this "relationship" immensely.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
I know some of you, based on my past entries about boys, are expecting me to say phrases such as "I can't believe he wants to be with a girl like me," "he's changing my life," and/or "I can't imagine life without him." I have a feeling you may be expecting me to say, even after a month of "talking," that I love him.
If I said any of those things, I'd be lying.
Now don't get me wrong, I really like this boy. Holy crap, do I. I wake up in his bed at least three times a week! When I'm with him, it's like I'm with a good friend that I've known for many years. He makes me laugh and I constantly want to kiss him. Constantly. It's kind of ridiculous how much I want to kiss that beautiful, stubbly face of his. Sometimes, I "salivate" just thinking about him (if you know what I mean; wink wink nudge nudge). So yeah. I like him.
I like him but I'm not as madly in love with him as I was with my past boyfriends. I've said "I love you" to the last 3 boyfriends I've had within the first month. I was lying. I wasn't lying when I said it but I later came to realize I didn't mean it. I used to look at love as one of many stepping stones in a relationship. With each stepping stone, I thought I'd be happier and more fulfilled, not only in the relationship but as a person.
Step one: He likes me.
Step two: He kisses me.
Step three: We make out.
Step four: We have sex.
Step five: He asks me to be his girlfriend.
Step six: I say I love you.
Step seven: He says it back.
Step eight: He meets my family.
And so on...
That's how I thought relationships were supposed to go. Oh man was I wrong. I would say love too early because it was next on the list. Sadly, the list didn't include one important factor. Every time I said, "I love you," I might as well have been saying "I want you to love me." With every passing relationship, I see that I was just trying to fill a void. I've been in relationships that I knew would never last with because I didn't think I could find anyone else. I "needed" a person. I can honestly say, that is no longer the case. If he decided to stop talking to me tomorrow, I'm not gonna lie, I'd have a good long cry. I'd call Jordan and Glo, we'd watch Wet Hot American Summer and eat fried chicken until my tears turn into laughter. It will hurt like a bitch but I will survive. I love myself enough to know that having him in my life is a choice, not a necessity.
Not being madly in love with him right away has nothing to do with him as a person. It's not that the others were better or our "love" was more passionate. He isn't even different (he is much cooler but still a cute, funny boy). I'm different now. As I've been spending more and more time with this boy, I do feel the urge to call this love. I'll be watching him running around his room getting ready for the day, singing the objects he needs to put in his bookbag and I'll think, "Man, I love him." In that moment, I stop myself and realize this is just infatuation. Then I enjoy the moment rather than analyzing it as love. BECAUSE SERIOUSLY, he is so cute when he riffs the word "wallet."
My big moral for today is not mistaking love with infatuation, I guess. Also not letting this big scary monster called "love" get in the way of things too soon. If you find yourself liking someone and feeling those butterflies, try to take a step back and separate those two deceivingly similar feelings. It has helped this "relationship" immensely.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Sunday, April 26, 2015
Blow Out The Candles
When I'm not so busy, I will have a full blog about my 21st and what happened and how much fun I had and all that jazz but I want to leave a little post here for now.
Thursday night, I was at a cast party where a cake was bought for my birthday. After the singing was finished, there were candles to be blown out. One of my cast members told me to make a wish.
I looked down and said the following in complete and total honesty:
"I have everything I want right now."
Gratitude feels great. Everyone should try it.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Thursday night, I was at a cast party where a cake was bought for my birthday. After the singing was finished, there were candles to be blown out. One of my cast members told me to make a wish.
I looked down and said the following in complete and total honesty:
"I have everything I want right now."
Gratitude feels great. Everyone should try it.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Thursday, April 16, 2015
Like Or Like Like
LOL JK from my last post, I kind of have a love life. There's a boy and this is the lyric that I identify with him because I have a hard time coming up with my own creative way to display my emotions, contrary to what this blog makes you think.
"But...I have a friend, with whom I like to spend any time I can find with.
I like sleeping in your bed,
I like knowing what is going on inside your head,
I like taking time and I like your mind,
And I like when your hand is in mine."
I like him and that's my story.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
"But...I have a friend, with whom I like to spend any time I can find with.
I like sleeping in your bed,
I like knowing what is going on inside your head,
I like taking time and I like your mind,
And I like when your hand is in mine."
I like him and that's my story.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
One Lyric to Rule Them ALL!!!
I wanted to publish this lyric I found recently that perfectly describes the way I feel some nights.
"I spend most of my life on a microphone, give it all that I got til I head back home. And when the lights are out and I'm all alone, I've got no reason to be crying."
That's the greatest lyric to describe my life as a comedian. The most real example of this was after Wise Ass. It was a great night and it went so well but when I got home and everything was quiet, I broke down. It was so bad that it lasted for an entire hour that night then into the next day. I honestly still don't know why. It has passed at this point, thank God, but it still think about that night a lot and try to get to the bottom of it.
ANYWHO, that lyric is from a song by Sara Bareilles called "I Just Want You." It's one of her best songs and I love to listen to it to pretend I have a romantic life.
Sorry I haven't had any crazy life lessons smack me in the face within the last week. I'll work on it.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
"I spend most of my life on a microphone, give it all that I got til I head back home. And when the lights are out and I'm all alone, I've got no reason to be crying."
That's the greatest lyric to describe my life as a comedian. The most real example of this was after Wise Ass. It was a great night and it went so well but when I got home and everything was quiet, I broke down. It was so bad that it lasted for an entire hour that night then into the next day. I honestly still don't know why. It has passed at this point, thank God, but it still think about that night a lot and try to get to the bottom of it.
ANYWHO, that lyric is from a song by Sara Bareilles called "I Just Want You." It's one of her best songs and I love to listen to it to pretend I have a romantic life.
Sorry I haven't had any crazy life lessons smack me in the face within the last week. I'll work on it.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Sunday, April 12, 2015
2 Decades Down By Sydney Back
21 is vastly approaching and I recently found my notebook I kept almost exactly a year ago when I was about to enter my early 20s. I would like to share some of the ideas I expressed with you lovely cyber humans. Especially you, Mason Maguire, I do this for you to mention it when I'm tipsy enough to speak of it but not tipsy enough to not be bashful about it. I have no other reasons. Sorry, Jordan Lee Cohen. ENJOY.
"4/14/14; I turn 20 in 7 days so here's my journal for this time in my life. 2 DECADES DOWN by Sydney Back."
"I got a bread bowl at Panera...How does one eat it once the soup is gone? Like a savage? Do I rip off pieces or do I cut it up with my spoon? Do I eat it like a chicken wing? Do I bring it up to my face?"
"I'm leaving. I'm sitting here on the campus that made me the person I am today and I am grateful. But I'm finally leaving. I've waited for years. No, not waited, worked. Though I could have worked harder, I still worked.
Sometimes I burst out into laughter when I remember that I did it.
This is only the beginning of my professional life. I'm young and hot headed and the world will teach me. It will. I feel like as long as I'm open to that, I will go far."
"Tomorrow, I will be 20. 2 decades full of laughter and pain. Mostly laughter.
What have I done with my life so far? Not much.
What am I going to do with my life? A lot.
I'm leaving Dayton. Staring my professional career.
You can't whore around in Chicago. Everyone is a future colleague. You can only have sex with someone if you love them. Seriously."
"Dad gave me $100 dollars today. Thanks, man. Really appreciate it."
"Why do I want to shove a sock down John's throat? It's crazy to me that one day I can think I'm in love with someone and then the next day, never want to hear their voice again. Is something wrong with me? Or is this how all women feel after relationships?"
"I assume everyone over 21 sees me as a child, if that's the case, there are a lot more pedophiles in this world than I thought."
"24 girlfriends in 21 years. He throws the word 'girlfriend' around like a frisbee. So when he asked me if I was his girlfriend, I felt a little dirty. Should I worry?"
"August 26th is going to be a really difficult day. I'm going to leave everything I know for a land I've been to a handful of times. Chicago, IL. Just the name gives me chills. I'm leaving my family to pursue a dream. No, not a dream. Dream implies naivety. I'm pursuing a life. The kind of life I've always imagined myself having. A life I'm willing to work for."
"My mother will always love me no matter what I do. I'm afraid I won't have the same patience for my children's mistakes."
"5/12/14; I'm working at Lilian's Bridal Shop on Far Hills Ave. It's crazy how much money women spend on wedding dresses. Just for alterations. It can be $100 or more! I'm really happy I know how to sew. I'll fix my own dress. I never buy anything for myself that is expensive so when my wedding day comes, I'm going to spend too much money on it. It will have lace and boning and when I take it off, or when he rips it off of me, it'll have a night on the floor. All of that time and money put into that dress won't matter anymore because I'm having marital sex. Maybe even unprotected. WHO KNOWS? His penis will be my oyster and he'll put it where ever he pleases*"
*no butt stuff
"I'm a novelty. I look quirky and fun...but wait. Once you know about my GPA and lack of a father figure, you'll be running, don't worry. 2.8 isn't wife material!"
"Just because a man says he loves me doesn't make it true. Just because he says he'll never leave, doesn't mean he won't. Just because I think he'll fix me doesn't mean he will.
Thanks to all these "men" I am dating someone else. The kind of person I know I'll spend the rest of my life with. Her name is Sydney Back. I'm starting to get to know her and I think she's pretty amazing.
Thank you, all the boys I've dated, for teaching me how to raise my standards and love someone who can boil water, take out the trash and wear a shirt in public places."
"What I'm bothered by...
-Charm bracelets. (End of list)"
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
"4/14/14; I turn 20 in 7 days so here's my journal for this time in my life. 2 DECADES DOWN by Sydney Back."
"I got a bread bowl at Panera...How does one eat it once the soup is gone? Like a savage? Do I rip off pieces or do I cut it up with my spoon? Do I eat it like a chicken wing? Do I bring it up to my face?"
"I'm leaving. I'm sitting here on the campus that made me the person I am today and I am grateful. But I'm finally leaving. I've waited for years. No, not waited, worked. Though I could have worked harder, I still worked.
Sometimes I burst out into laughter when I remember that I did it.
This is only the beginning of my professional life. I'm young and hot headed and the world will teach me. It will. I feel like as long as I'm open to that, I will go far."
"Tomorrow, I will be 20. 2 decades full of laughter and pain. Mostly laughter.
What have I done with my life so far? Not much.
What am I going to do with my life? A lot.
I'm leaving Dayton. Staring my professional career.
You can't whore around in Chicago. Everyone is a future colleague. You can only have sex with someone if you love them. Seriously."
"Dad gave me $100 dollars today. Thanks, man. Really appreciate it."
"Why do I want to shove a sock down John's throat? It's crazy to me that one day I can think I'm in love with someone and then the next day, never want to hear their voice again. Is something wrong with me? Or is this how all women feel after relationships?"
"I assume everyone over 21 sees me as a child, if that's the case, there are a lot more pedophiles in this world than I thought."
"24 girlfriends in 21 years. He throws the word 'girlfriend' around like a frisbee. So when he asked me if I was his girlfriend, I felt a little dirty. Should I worry?"
"August 26th is going to be a really difficult day. I'm going to leave everything I know for a land I've been to a handful of times. Chicago, IL. Just the name gives me chills. I'm leaving my family to pursue a dream. No, not a dream. Dream implies naivety. I'm pursuing a life. The kind of life I've always imagined myself having. A life I'm willing to work for."
"My mother will always love me no matter what I do. I'm afraid I won't have the same patience for my children's mistakes."
"5/12/14; I'm working at Lilian's Bridal Shop on Far Hills Ave. It's crazy how much money women spend on wedding dresses. Just for alterations. It can be $100 or more! I'm really happy I know how to sew. I'll fix my own dress. I never buy anything for myself that is expensive so when my wedding day comes, I'm going to spend too much money on it. It will have lace and boning and when I take it off, or when he rips it off of me, it'll have a night on the floor. All of that time and money put into that dress won't matter anymore because I'm having marital sex. Maybe even unprotected. WHO KNOWS? His penis will be my oyster and he'll put it where ever he pleases*"
*no butt stuff
"I'm a novelty. I look quirky and fun...but wait. Once you know about my GPA and lack of a father figure, you'll be running, don't worry. 2.8 isn't wife material!"
"Just because a man says he loves me doesn't make it true. Just because he says he'll never leave, doesn't mean he won't. Just because I think he'll fix me doesn't mean he will.
Thanks to all these "men" I am dating someone else. The kind of person I know I'll spend the rest of my life with. Her name is Sydney Back. I'm starting to get to know her and I think she's pretty amazing.
Thank you, all the boys I've dated, for teaching me how to raise my standards and love someone who can boil water, take out the trash and wear a shirt in public places."
"What I'm bothered by...
-Charm bracelets. (End of list)"
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Monday, April 6, 2015
Too Stressed To Feel Blessed
Happy day after Easter everyone! I hope you went to church yesterday in your pastel colored clothing or ate a peep on the train to "celebrate" while dressed in all black. I know I did one of those things and I enjoyed it very much. While many of you were enjoying time with family and a honey baked ham, I was filled with anxiety in my apartment alone chugging coffee. This is a very common occurrence in my life nowadays.
The first week back from spring break was filled with anxiety. If I was a doughnut, that week I was a Boston Creme doughnut but instead of creme, it was anxiety. I like that joke and if you don't, close this tab right now. ANYWHO, I had a laundry list of performances due and hadn't worked on a single one over break. I went to Ohio seeking rest, but returned more stressed. From writing sketches, to competing in a stand up competition, to recording and performing a performance mid-term, I had put 110% into each which left me terribly on edge. By Thursday, all projects were complete and received rave reviews. I also made it to the finals of the stand up competition. A huge feeling of accomplishment washed over me; I did it. My anxiety was lifted from the week and replaced with regular weekend anxiety but it also left me with another beautiful life lesson.
When planning for the week, I was working so hard. I got barely any sleep and perhaps for got about personal hygiene for a second. These projects were the only thing on my brain. I had this sicken fear of failing in my stomach. A better way to put it is giving up. I was not going to let myself give up this week. I was not going to turn in shit because I was tired. I made myself work harder and longer. For a while I thought I was doing it for the teachers who assigned it but I have come to realize this is something I had to prove to myself. I had to prove to myself that I don't run away when things get hard. In my teens, I did this often. When the going got tough, I curled up in a ball and cried. No matter if it was school, work, or relationships. I wouldn't work harder, I would withdrawal. Upon becoming a self-actualizing adult, I realized that must change. How do I expect to get better if I can't push myself? Nobody has ever changed the world by curling up in a ball and pouting. This is only one of the lessons I learned from the craziness that is college. The story continues into the weekend and today.
So I enjoyed my weekend with slightly less anxiety. I was very lucky to spend Friday and Saturday night completely anxiety free. Both nights (and into Sunday morning), I turned my phone on silent and enjoyed time with the person I was with at the time. I lived in the moment instead of worrying about what was happening next. If you are reading this (Jordan Lee Cohen) and you are one of those people (Jordan Lee Cohen), know that you helped me more than you know (Jordan Lee Cohen).
I would like to say that realizing this about myself hasn't helped it vanish into thin air. Life does keep going and more projects are due and more effort is expected on my part. This morning, I had a presentation for Comedy Writing and Performance and my final project for Comedy Theory. These are the classes I care about more than anything else and I was stressing. I stayed up until 4 am preparing both to the best of my ability. I was happy with my work and went to bed expecting to be awoken by my alarm at 7 am.
I was awoken by my roommate shuffling around the room cleaning up for room inspections. I looked at the clock and it was 10:51am exactly. I jolted up and my greatest dread was making my heart beat and my mouth groan. I was going to fail a comedy final. I had already missed my first writing and performance class which was the least of my worries at that point. My brain began to race and my adrenaline pumped. My roommate, assuming I was worried about the room inspection, didn't notice my dishevelment. Soon after, our RA came into the room, and looked for 3 seconds. During this time, I didn't stop running around putting things in my bag. I could've had a heroin needle out for god sake but all I was thinking was, "I wonder if I'm at the end of the set list. OH GOD I HOPE SO!" The RA left and I began putting on my shoes with tears in my eyes and shakey hands. One of my suitemates came into speak of the weirdly short room inspection but noticed my distress. She asked what was wrong and I just let it out.
"I had a comedy class at 8:30 that I slept through and I'm supposed to be doing a final right now! I've been working so fucking hard and I'm about the fucking fail a comedy class because I didn't wake up to my alarm! It's just great, its just fucking great!"
It was a weak moment for me. My roommate and suitemate were gracious and reminded me that it would be okay and that I'll be okay and just breathe and all that jazz. I thank them.
Long story short, I made it in time to do the final. I was actually crazy impressed by how well it went. Did I mention my partner and I had never practice it in person once, only spoke of it on Facebook messenger? So yeah. PROUD OF US!
I wanted to tell this story because, first off, it's very fresh and I needed to document it, secondly, I need to remember what I say in moments of weakness. I need to remember those because those are the truth of how I really feel. My fear has been propelling me for weeks. After this experience, I realized that I need to chill the fuck out. Like the week before, everything will turn out okay. Maybe even great. I need to keep a clear head. I need to make time for myself to detox and remember that I'm not perfect and sometimes things just happen that are out of my control. Like sleeping through alarms. These little mistakes aren't the end of me. I'm not just my work. I'm a human as well. Humans mess up sometimes. I need to get over it and move on. All I can do is be prepared with what I can control.
So as I sit here in my favorite coffee shop, enjoying my favorite new band, in my favorite pair of jeans doing my least favorite homework, I remember that I will be okay. Anxiety shouldn't get the best of me because there will be other projects and will require my same attention until the day I die. I'll get them done and done well. I hope that will help keep me sane in this beautiful crazy time in my life.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
The first week back from spring break was filled with anxiety. If I was a doughnut, that week I was a Boston Creme doughnut but instead of creme, it was anxiety. I like that joke and if you don't, close this tab right now. ANYWHO, I had a laundry list of performances due and hadn't worked on a single one over break. I went to Ohio seeking rest, but returned more stressed. From writing sketches, to competing in a stand up competition, to recording and performing a performance mid-term, I had put 110% into each which left me terribly on edge. By Thursday, all projects were complete and received rave reviews. I also made it to the finals of the stand up competition. A huge feeling of accomplishment washed over me; I did it. My anxiety was lifted from the week and replaced with regular weekend anxiety but it also left me with another beautiful life lesson.
When planning for the week, I was working so hard. I got barely any sleep and perhaps for got about personal hygiene for a second. These projects were the only thing on my brain. I had this sicken fear of failing in my stomach. A better way to put it is giving up. I was not going to let myself give up this week. I was not going to turn in shit because I was tired. I made myself work harder and longer. For a while I thought I was doing it for the teachers who assigned it but I have come to realize this is something I had to prove to myself. I had to prove to myself that I don't run away when things get hard. In my teens, I did this often. When the going got tough, I curled up in a ball and cried. No matter if it was school, work, or relationships. I wouldn't work harder, I would withdrawal. Upon becoming a self-actualizing adult, I realized that must change. How do I expect to get better if I can't push myself? Nobody has ever changed the world by curling up in a ball and pouting. This is only one of the lessons I learned from the craziness that is college. The story continues into the weekend and today.
So I enjoyed my weekend with slightly less anxiety. I was very lucky to spend Friday and Saturday night completely anxiety free. Both nights (and into Sunday morning), I turned my phone on silent and enjoyed time with the person I was with at the time. I lived in the moment instead of worrying about what was happening next. If you are reading this (Jordan Lee Cohen) and you are one of those people (Jordan Lee Cohen), know that you helped me more than you know (Jordan Lee Cohen).
I would like to say that realizing this about myself hasn't helped it vanish into thin air. Life does keep going and more projects are due and more effort is expected on my part. This morning, I had a presentation for Comedy Writing and Performance and my final project for Comedy Theory. These are the classes I care about more than anything else and I was stressing. I stayed up until 4 am preparing both to the best of my ability. I was happy with my work and went to bed expecting to be awoken by my alarm at 7 am.
I was awoken by my roommate shuffling around the room cleaning up for room inspections. I looked at the clock and it was 10:51am exactly. I jolted up and my greatest dread was making my heart beat and my mouth groan. I was going to fail a comedy final. I had already missed my first writing and performance class which was the least of my worries at that point. My brain began to race and my adrenaline pumped. My roommate, assuming I was worried about the room inspection, didn't notice my dishevelment. Soon after, our RA came into the room, and looked for 3 seconds. During this time, I didn't stop running around putting things in my bag. I could've had a heroin needle out for god sake but all I was thinking was, "I wonder if I'm at the end of the set list. OH GOD I HOPE SO!" The RA left and I began putting on my shoes with tears in my eyes and shakey hands. One of my suitemates came into speak of the weirdly short room inspection but noticed my distress. She asked what was wrong and I just let it out.
"I had a comedy class at 8:30 that I slept through and I'm supposed to be doing a final right now! I've been working so fucking hard and I'm about the fucking fail a comedy class because I didn't wake up to my alarm! It's just great, its just fucking great!"
It was a weak moment for me. My roommate and suitemate were gracious and reminded me that it would be okay and that I'll be okay and just breathe and all that jazz. I thank them.
Long story short, I made it in time to do the final. I was actually crazy impressed by how well it went. Did I mention my partner and I had never practice it in person once, only spoke of it on Facebook messenger? So yeah. PROUD OF US!
I wanted to tell this story because, first off, it's very fresh and I needed to document it, secondly, I need to remember what I say in moments of weakness. I need to remember those because those are the truth of how I really feel. My fear has been propelling me for weeks. After this experience, I realized that I need to chill the fuck out. Like the week before, everything will turn out okay. Maybe even great. I need to keep a clear head. I need to make time for myself to detox and remember that I'm not perfect and sometimes things just happen that are out of my control. Like sleeping through alarms. These little mistakes aren't the end of me. I'm not just my work. I'm a human as well. Humans mess up sometimes. I need to get over it and move on. All I can do is be prepared with what I can control.
So as I sit here in my favorite coffee shop, enjoying my favorite new band, in my favorite pair of jeans doing my least favorite homework, I remember that I will be okay. Anxiety shouldn't get the best of me because there will be other projects and will require my same attention until the day I die. I'll get them done and done well. I hope that will help keep me sane in this beautiful crazy time in my life.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Saturday, March 21, 2015
Beware: This Post Contains Optimism
One month from today, I will be 21. The very first thing I'm going to do is walk into a bar and scream "BARKEEP!" immediately apologize and kindly ask them for the best craft beer in the establishment. It's always been my dream and I won't relent.
Upon realizing how quickly I'm growing up, I thought back to what life was like on my other major birthday. The big ole one eight.
I think of all the things I thought to be true and how many things I "KNEW" to be true. I then think of the amount of lessons I've learned since. When I went out into the "real world" at 18, I had no idea how painful it would be. Or how beautiful. I fell hard many times over the course of the last 3 years. From losing my virginity to someone I barely knew to the death of a friend that I abandoned months before, my face has hit the pavement many times. One time, it literally hit the pavement, and YES I MEAN LITERALLY! I can show you the pictures. It was sick. ANYWHO, here are my thoughts about my early adulthood so far.
I've had 6 jobs in 3 years. Some at the same time, some for a very short while. One job I got fired from for being a douche bag and not doing my work and the another I got fired for being too slow of a stitcher. I've worked at Target for almost the entire time I've been out of high school and I still hate every other second of it. The only jobs I loved and felt like I accomplished something at the end of the day were my sewing jobs. I worked at Sinclair Community College's Costume Shop for 2 years and I fell in love with costumes and sewing there. I also gained a mentor and friend, Kathleen Hotmer. Not only did this woman teach me how to sew, she taught me how to be a good person. She helped teach me that my actions have consequences and that my existence on this earth matters. If I had to choose one thing I'm most grateful for from my time at Sinclair, it's her presence in my life.
I've performed in 5 shows. Each one taught me something about life and theater that I never anticipated. In high school, I did the musical to stand out and be seen. Since that time, I've learned that I do it to make a difference. If I can bring light to a topic untouched in most every day conversation, I can help the world in some way. I know when it's my time to "shine" and when it's time to let someone else change the world. I've learned that I'm enough. For a long time, acting felt like this thing I did and I did well but still never felt like I could see myself on an off-broadway stage or on TV. Now I feel differently. I'm very confident in my abilities as an actor. My ability to not shy from the truth makes me interesting to watch and my personality off stage makes me easy to work with. Those are my keys to success. That is if success was a car, which it is not. It's more like a bike. A bike with a trailer of bricks attached to the back. Weird metaphor but it makes sense to me.
I've performed in a large, unknown amount of improv shows. Each one different. Each one exciting. Each one teaching me lessons with every passing second. I'm getting so much better at improv every day and it thrills me. Today, I auditioned for a troupe at the Playground Theater and I couldn't believe how well I did because I just had fun and listened. It's so simple but such a hard task. Even if I don't get in that troupe, it was such a wonderful way to spend my Saturday morning. All in all, I'm very proud of how far I've come in all aspects of my career and can't wait to see what else I have to learn.
I had 3 boyfriends in that span of time, all lasting 3 months almost exactly. Each teaching a new lesson with every goodbye. Jimmy taught me you can't force yourself to feel a certain way. John taught me that I should have much higher standards. Charles taught me that love takes time and doesn't appear when you say it. Also that screaming in the middle of a corn field in Indiana can help most problems. With every relationship and heartbreak, I've come to the conclusion that I've been wrong about relationships my entire life. This is great to realize but terrible to try to change. For a long time, I idolized men without knowing them and mistook that for love then proceeded to get upset/bored when I did get to know them and realized it wasn't love. I realized that I need to treat relationships more like friendships. I'm done looking for disposable relationships. Longevity is now my middle name. So as I date the kind of funny, cute, all black Converse wearing boys I've always imagined I would find in Chicago, I will pace myself. I've got 70 more years. No need for rushing anything especially romance. I'm content being by myself. I'm content enough not to settle for someone out of loneliness or fear. The next person I date will really be something special. I just know it. You wanna know how I know? I won't date them if they aren't.
My family has grown from 2 brothers and a mom, to 2 brothers, 2 sisters-in-law, 2 nieces and 1 mom. 5 years ago, my family barely spoke. I felt like an only child for many years because there was so much tension. When my first niece was born, we all realized how that couldn't be the case anymore. Since that beautiful baby girl was born, I'm happy to say I have a family. I know I can call them whenever I need them and vice versa. Especially with the addition of alcohol to my life, I've gotten much closer to my brothers and realized I'm not just the weird little sister they don't want around. They are starting to see me as an adult. An equal. They are very proud of me. I'm also very proud of them and can't believe how well we all turned out. Kevin is a daddy to two lovely little girls and Tyler is a husband to one of the coolest people I've had the pleasure of knowing. They have grown up to be such awesome individuals and I'm proud to call them my brothers.
My mom is a different story. She's not just a mom. She's had to be a dad and a teacher too. Luckily, I can also call her a friend. I love my mom and I'm so happy for our crazy (almost too crazy) close (almost too close) relationship. My mom is my best friend and I would never be where I am without her unconditional love and support. She's the reason I fell in love with the Second City and she's the one who always told me and I quote, "Don't you go falling in love with some boy and staying in Ohio forever." This was one of the best pieces of advice she's ever given me. My other favorite Shyrleen quote is, "Sydney, if you can't be a better actor than the people on Lifetime, give up now." I love my mom more than bacon and that's saying a lot.
IN CONCLUSION, I'M HAPPY AND NOT MUCH CAN BRING ME DOWN BECAUSE I'VE CHOSEN TO BE THIS WAY. Life may change but I will welcome the changes with wide arms and a box of chocolates because it's all about the ride. Insert other cliche optimistic quote here.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Upon realizing how quickly I'm growing up, I thought back to what life was like on my other major birthday. The big ole one eight.
I think of all the things I thought to be true and how many things I "KNEW" to be true. I then think of the amount of lessons I've learned since. When I went out into the "real world" at 18, I had no idea how painful it would be. Or how beautiful. I fell hard many times over the course of the last 3 years. From losing my virginity to someone I barely knew to the death of a friend that I abandoned months before, my face has hit the pavement many times. One time, it literally hit the pavement, and YES I MEAN LITERALLY! I can show you the pictures. It was sick. ANYWHO, here are my thoughts about my early adulthood so far.
I've had 6 jobs in 3 years. Some at the same time, some for a very short while. One job I got fired from for being a douche bag and not doing my work and the another I got fired for being too slow of a stitcher. I've worked at Target for almost the entire time I've been out of high school and I still hate every other second of it. The only jobs I loved and felt like I accomplished something at the end of the day were my sewing jobs. I worked at Sinclair Community College's Costume Shop for 2 years and I fell in love with costumes and sewing there. I also gained a mentor and friend, Kathleen Hotmer. Not only did this woman teach me how to sew, she taught me how to be a good person. She helped teach me that my actions have consequences and that my existence on this earth matters. If I had to choose one thing I'm most grateful for from my time at Sinclair, it's her presence in my life.
I've performed in 5 shows. Each one taught me something about life and theater that I never anticipated. In high school, I did the musical to stand out and be seen. Since that time, I've learned that I do it to make a difference. If I can bring light to a topic untouched in most every day conversation, I can help the world in some way. I know when it's my time to "shine" and when it's time to let someone else change the world. I've learned that I'm enough. For a long time, acting felt like this thing I did and I did well but still never felt like I could see myself on an off-broadway stage or on TV. Now I feel differently. I'm very confident in my abilities as an actor. My ability to not shy from the truth makes me interesting to watch and my personality off stage makes me easy to work with. Those are my keys to success. That is if success was a car, which it is not. It's more like a bike. A bike with a trailer of bricks attached to the back. Weird metaphor but it makes sense to me.
I've performed in a large, unknown amount of improv shows. Each one different. Each one exciting. Each one teaching me lessons with every passing second. I'm getting so much better at improv every day and it thrills me. Today, I auditioned for a troupe at the Playground Theater and I couldn't believe how well I did because I just had fun and listened. It's so simple but such a hard task. Even if I don't get in that troupe, it was such a wonderful way to spend my Saturday morning. All in all, I'm very proud of how far I've come in all aspects of my career and can't wait to see what else I have to learn.
I had 3 boyfriends in that span of time, all lasting 3 months almost exactly. Each teaching a new lesson with every goodbye. Jimmy taught me you can't force yourself to feel a certain way. John taught me that I should have much higher standards. Charles taught me that love takes time and doesn't appear when you say it. Also that screaming in the middle of a corn field in Indiana can help most problems. With every relationship and heartbreak, I've come to the conclusion that I've been wrong about relationships my entire life. This is great to realize but terrible to try to change. For a long time, I idolized men without knowing them and mistook that for love then proceeded to get upset/bored when I did get to know them and realized it wasn't love. I realized that I need to treat relationships more like friendships. I'm done looking for disposable relationships. Longevity is now my middle name. So as I date the kind of funny, cute, all black Converse wearing boys I've always imagined I would find in Chicago, I will pace myself. I've got 70 more years. No need for rushing anything especially romance. I'm content being by myself. I'm content enough not to settle for someone out of loneliness or fear. The next person I date will really be something special. I just know it. You wanna know how I know? I won't date them if they aren't.
My family has grown from 2 brothers and a mom, to 2 brothers, 2 sisters-in-law, 2 nieces and 1 mom. 5 years ago, my family barely spoke. I felt like an only child for many years because there was so much tension. When my first niece was born, we all realized how that couldn't be the case anymore. Since that beautiful baby girl was born, I'm happy to say I have a family. I know I can call them whenever I need them and vice versa. Especially with the addition of alcohol to my life, I've gotten much closer to my brothers and realized I'm not just the weird little sister they don't want around. They are starting to see me as an adult. An equal. They are very proud of me. I'm also very proud of them and can't believe how well we all turned out. Kevin is a daddy to two lovely little girls and Tyler is a husband to one of the coolest people I've had the pleasure of knowing. They have grown up to be such awesome individuals and I'm proud to call them my brothers.
My mom is a different story. She's not just a mom. She's had to be a dad and a teacher too. Luckily, I can also call her a friend. I love my mom and I'm so happy for our crazy (almost too crazy) close (almost too close) relationship. My mom is my best friend and I would never be where I am without her unconditional love and support. She's the reason I fell in love with the Second City and she's the one who always told me and I quote, "Don't you go falling in love with some boy and staying in Ohio forever." This was one of the best pieces of advice she's ever given me. My other favorite Shyrleen quote is, "Sydney, if you can't be a better actor than the people on Lifetime, give up now." I love my mom more than bacon and that's saying a lot.
IN CONCLUSION, I'M HAPPY AND NOT MUCH CAN BRING ME DOWN BECAUSE I'VE CHOSEN TO BE THIS WAY. Life may change but I will welcome the changes with wide arms and a box of chocolates because it's all about the ride. Insert other cliche optimistic quote here.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Friday, March 13, 2015
Insert Pinterest Quote Here
Happy Friday the 13th and welcome to another episode of "Sydney's Seemingly Obvious Life Realizations!"
Something has happened ladies and gentlemen. Something shocking. Something unforeseen. Something that will knock your socks off.
....Sydney.....likes.....a......boy!
YEP! I'm crushing on a boy of the Aryan race with 6% body fat and a pension for teasing. I've "hung out" with this boy many times within the last 2 weeks and one of those times could be considered a date by societal standards. It's been really nice having someone to text on the daily and invite to random shows when I want. It's been really nice but I can feel myself starting to rush. I can feel myself wanting more from it than 2 weeks of "hanging out" should allot. I find myself spending my quiet moments dreaming of walks on the beach and choosing carpet samples together. This is normal for me. I always imagine a future with every person I've ever been interested in before I have any idea who they really are. This always gets me in trouble. I emotionally commit to them before they can even ask me on the second date.
This is a problem. A very big problem especially with this boy. He is in no rush. We've only kissed and hung out outside of each other's apartments. That seems pretty normal for anyone else but me. I feel myself being disappointed when he doesn't ask me to come up to his room. I assumed it means he doesn't like me/want me. When I realized this thought was making me miserable, I took a step back. What do I think is going to happen if I go to his apartment? Will we make out? Will we have sex? Will we fall in love? I have this idea that in relationships there is an end point. I can't exactly explain what that feels like but I'm always in a rush to get there. Maybe it's the idea that if I do this, I'll be happy. Actually, there is no 'maybe' involved. I definitely have the feeling that if this "works out," I'll be happy. As if happy is a destination. According to many aphorisms I've read on Pinterest at 2am, happiness is not a destination, it is a journey. I'm very happy with my life right now because I chose to be. I chose to see the blessings in my life rather than the curses. That is one of the main revelations I've shared on this blog. The choice to be happy.
Unfortunately, that lesson still needs some learning in my love life. For a long time, I used moving to Chicago as an excuse for an end to my relationships and I loved it. There was a clear ending. Good. But now I live here. There are no more excuses. I'm staying for a really long time and there is no hurry for anything. Especially relationships. Don't we all just really want a lasting relationship? Well, I'm finally in the place I told myself I could have one and my brain is still thinking I'm in Ohio. I think this is part of the reason I just had sex with so many people; I believed it was my end point. But, again, the problem with that is somewhere in my short adulthood, "I want to get to know him better" became "I'm going to have sex with him to get to know him better." Which would have been the case with this boy if it weren't for this young gentleman. I've invited him up to my room but he has declined. I couldn't be more thankful. I can't imagine what it would have been like to have had sex with him that first night then never spoken with him again. Within these two weeks, I've learned that he is not just an incredibly good looking actor, but he also writes, sketches, sings, and is an excellent story teller. There's no way I could have learned all that from sucking his dick. Though the idea of his body makes me salivate, I'm happier to be getting to know HIM. I'm happy to have a friend even if romance doesn't work out.
"What the heck is the moral, Sydney?" Well pushy internet readers, I've learned that rushing relationships and over committing causes problems so I'm trying really hard not to do that. I'm going to enjoy this little bit of bliss while it lasts. End of story.
P.S. Did I mention he likes Taylor Swift?
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
(As of March st, this boy became an afterthought to someone better, so don't worry about it.)
Something has happened ladies and gentlemen. Something shocking. Something unforeseen. Something that will knock your socks off.
....Sydney.....likes.....a......boy!
YEP! I'm crushing on a boy of the Aryan race with 6% body fat and a pension for teasing. I've "hung out" with this boy many times within the last 2 weeks and one of those times could be considered a date by societal standards. It's been really nice having someone to text on the daily and invite to random shows when I want. It's been really nice but I can feel myself starting to rush. I can feel myself wanting more from it than 2 weeks of "hanging out" should allot. I find myself spending my quiet moments dreaming of walks on the beach and choosing carpet samples together. This is normal for me. I always imagine a future with every person I've ever been interested in before I have any idea who they really are. This always gets me in trouble. I emotionally commit to them before they can even ask me on the second date.
This is a problem. A very big problem especially with this boy. He is in no rush. We've only kissed and hung out outside of each other's apartments. That seems pretty normal for anyone else but me. I feel myself being disappointed when he doesn't ask me to come up to his room. I assumed it means he doesn't like me/want me. When I realized this thought was making me miserable, I took a step back. What do I think is going to happen if I go to his apartment? Will we make out? Will we have sex? Will we fall in love? I have this idea that in relationships there is an end point. I can't exactly explain what that feels like but I'm always in a rush to get there. Maybe it's the idea that if I do this, I'll be happy. Actually, there is no 'maybe' involved. I definitely have the feeling that if this "works out," I'll be happy. As if happy is a destination. According to many aphorisms I've read on Pinterest at 2am, happiness is not a destination, it is a journey. I'm very happy with my life right now because I chose to be. I chose to see the blessings in my life rather than the curses. That is one of the main revelations I've shared on this blog. The choice to be happy.
Unfortunately, that lesson still needs some learning in my love life. For a long time, I used moving to Chicago as an excuse for an end to my relationships and I loved it. There was a clear ending. Good. But now I live here. There are no more excuses. I'm staying for a really long time and there is no hurry for anything. Especially relationships. Don't we all just really want a lasting relationship? Well, I'm finally in the place I told myself I could have one and my brain is still thinking I'm in Ohio. I think this is part of the reason I just had sex with so many people; I believed it was my end point. But, again, the problem with that is somewhere in my short adulthood, "I want to get to know him better" became "I'm going to have sex with him to get to know him better." Which would have been the case with this boy if it weren't for this young gentleman. I've invited him up to my room but he has declined. I couldn't be more thankful. I can't imagine what it would have been like to have had sex with him that first night then never spoken with him again. Within these two weeks, I've learned that he is not just an incredibly good looking actor, but he also writes, sketches, sings, and is an excellent story teller. There's no way I could have learned all that from sucking his dick. Though the idea of his body makes me salivate, I'm happier to be getting to know HIM. I'm happy to have a friend even if romance doesn't work out.
"What the heck is the moral, Sydney?" Well pushy internet readers, I've learned that rushing relationships and over committing causes problems so I'm trying really hard not to do that. I'm going to enjoy this little bit of bliss while it lasts. End of story.
P.S. Did I mention he likes Taylor Swift?
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
(As of March st, this boy became an afterthought to someone better, so don't worry about it.)
Sunday, March 8, 2015
3 Months
Dear Dave,
Hey there! It's been a bit since I've written you a letter. You used to tell me you wouldn't read them unless you could proof read them, but you did it anyway. That was kind of your style.
Welp, it's been 3 months and I can honestly say I've been okay. After about two months of tears and pain, I finally realized how to deal with this; Do good work.
I'm happy to say I'm getting much better at improv. I can't believe how much I've grown over the last couple of months! It reminds me of how much I loved to improvise with you. I try to remember you when I'm on stage. Remember how honest and quick witted you were. I try to have no inhibitions like you. It's actually working. I'm proud of me and I know you would be too.
Remember how you were always all over me for being lazy and unreliable? You were right. I was awful back then but thanks to your kindness and guidance, I'm better now. I don't skip rehearsal or shows anymore. I don't cancel on friends unless I really have to. Thanks to you, I value my time with people more. Missing you reminds me that there are people in this world it would hurt to lose and I don't want to waste a single second. Our time on this earth is so freaking finite. Tomorrow, I could get hit by a car walking on Wabash and die on impact. You never know. If that happens, I want people to know that I loved them and that they changed my life for the better. I've now seen and experienced the affects of death on people and I want to give them something to hold onto like I craved when you died.
I wish I could have told you that one more time but I'm going to try to stop saying things like that to you. Though it's true, it's not good for me. It makes me miss you too much.
Hey! You wanna hear something that you would absolutely roll your eyes at?! The song that resonates with me the most about losing you is a Taylor Swift song. HA. You would be freaking laying into me about that. It's called "I Wish You Would" and it's about a break up type scenario. We kind of broke up. It felt like it often. The chorus goes like this:
"I wish you would come back, wish I'd never hung up the phone like I did, I wish you knew that I'll never forget you as long as I live and I wish you were right here, right now, it's all good, I wish you would...I wish we could go back and remember what we were fighting for and I wish you knew that, I miss you too much to be mad anymore and I wish you were right here, right now, it's all good, I wish you would."
Isn't that just perfect?! It was the song I put on repeat when getting ready for your funeral. Before I put on my make up of course! I'm not a madman!
I'm really excited to come home over Spring Break, partly because I can come and see you in WARM WEATHER! I'm sorry, not you, your plaque and a pile of dirt. It's gonna be a weird day when it's not a little piece of paper with your name on it but a large piece of stone. I'm looking forward to some alone time with you again. Maybe I'll bring some Whiskey and we can have ourselves a little party. Ha.
Welp. I don't have anything else to say and I have class pretty early in the morning so I'm gonna conclude this blog by saying that I love you and miss you forever.
Sincerely,
Your #2
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Hey there! It's been a bit since I've written you a letter. You used to tell me you wouldn't read them unless you could proof read them, but you did it anyway. That was kind of your style.
Welp, it's been 3 months and I can honestly say I've been okay. After about two months of tears and pain, I finally realized how to deal with this; Do good work.
I'm happy to say I'm getting much better at improv. I can't believe how much I've grown over the last couple of months! It reminds me of how much I loved to improvise with you. I try to remember you when I'm on stage. Remember how honest and quick witted you were. I try to have no inhibitions like you. It's actually working. I'm proud of me and I know you would be too.
Remember how you were always all over me for being lazy and unreliable? You were right. I was awful back then but thanks to your kindness and guidance, I'm better now. I don't skip rehearsal or shows anymore. I don't cancel on friends unless I really have to. Thanks to you, I value my time with people more. Missing you reminds me that there are people in this world it would hurt to lose and I don't want to waste a single second. Our time on this earth is so freaking finite. Tomorrow, I could get hit by a car walking on Wabash and die on impact. You never know. If that happens, I want people to know that I loved them and that they changed my life for the better. I've now seen and experienced the affects of death on people and I want to give them something to hold onto like I craved when you died.
I wish I could have told you that one more time but I'm going to try to stop saying things like that to you. Though it's true, it's not good for me. It makes me miss you too much.
Hey! You wanna hear something that you would absolutely roll your eyes at?! The song that resonates with me the most about losing you is a Taylor Swift song. HA. You would be freaking laying into me about that. It's called "I Wish You Would" and it's about a break up type scenario. We kind of broke up. It felt like it often. The chorus goes like this:
"I wish you would come back, wish I'd never hung up the phone like I did, I wish you knew that I'll never forget you as long as I live and I wish you were right here, right now, it's all good, I wish you would...I wish we could go back and remember what we were fighting for and I wish you knew that, I miss you too much to be mad anymore and I wish you were right here, right now, it's all good, I wish you would."
Isn't that just perfect?! It was the song I put on repeat when getting ready for your funeral. Before I put on my make up of course! I'm not a madman!
I'm really excited to come home over Spring Break, partly because I can come and see you in WARM WEATHER! I'm sorry, not you, your plaque and a pile of dirt. It's gonna be a weird day when it's not a little piece of paper with your name on it but a large piece of stone. I'm looking forward to some alone time with you again. Maybe I'll bring some Whiskey and we can have ourselves a little party. Ha.
Welp. I don't have anything else to say and I have class pretty early in the morning so I'm gonna conclude this blog by saying that I love you and miss you forever.
Sincerely,
Your #2
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
Classic Early 20s
My life is going really well right now ladies and gents. Not even two weeks ago, I finished a show that I loved with many of my best friends in it directed by Anne Libera. I have been booked for many shows coming up including being a semi-finalist for Chicago's Top College Comedian Competition. I was called back for three roles and was told that I was "incredibly talented" in one of them within the same week. I finally have my improv sea-legs which took months of hard work and practice. I'm turning 21 in two months and get to spend a weekend with my best friend to celebrate. Not to mention, I feel like I have surrounded myself with some of the best, most talented people I've ever met. I'm over the moon with excitement for my life right now. But, seeing as I'm an American, I have found something to spend my Tuesday night weeping over. The more successful I am, the farther I am from finding love. This is strictly a correlation but it has been booming in the back of my mind for weeks now.
I know that I'm young, I know that I've got plenty of time to find "the one", I know that I should be focused on myself right now but I can't help feeling like I'm forever alone. I look around at the beautiful, successful relationships my friends are/have been in. Is it because they are soulmates? Is it because they are lonely and coping with another person? Is it because they deserve it and I don't? What is it? Why am I so caught up on it? I have so many questions and a very small capacity to answer them.
I've slept around quite a bit and I'm not ashamed of it in the least but I'm starting to see how pointless it is for me. I'll confess this, I've never "climaxed" because of a man. I've never felt the rush of clutching at a man while you feel like you're dying and being reborn. I've never even come close. So sex isn't that enjoyable to me but it often makes relationships more complicated than they need to be. Quickly, the relationships start to become about sex and not really love. They become about lust. I noticed this when Charles and I were having a hard time holding a conversation when we weren't horizontal. Our relationship started because we liked each other but quickly became sexual which didn't allow us to really get to know each other. I feel like this is why I don't feel fulfilled. I don't have one relationship to look back on that wasn't about our sexual tension. It has never been about two humans who actually like to spend time with each other outside of the bedroom. I crave a relationship like that. A relationship based in personalities and true respect for one another.
Now that I'm realizing this, I want to try it out and see. But alas, nobody interests me enough to test this theory. Thus I feel hopeless. I feel as if my great love will never come riding in on a red line train to 95th. I feel like no one will look at me with the loving eyes I see couples on the train exchange on a daily basis. I feel like my last and greatest love will be based on my ability to suck and jerk. This distresses me and I don't know how to get it out of my head.
So I work hard during the days and cry even harder at night. I throw myself into my work hoping it'll fill me. Classic early 20s? I don't know, I haven't been through them before but I hope they aren't always like this.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
I know that I'm young, I know that I've got plenty of time to find "the one", I know that I should be focused on myself right now but I can't help feeling like I'm forever alone. I look around at the beautiful, successful relationships my friends are/have been in. Is it because they are soulmates? Is it because they are lonely and coping with another person? Is it because they deserve it and I don't? What is it? Why am I so caught up on it? I have so many questions and a very small capacity to answer them.
I've slept around quite a bit and I'm not ashamed of it in the least but I'm starting to see how pointless it is for me. I'll confess this, I've never "climaxed" because of a man. I've never felt the rush of clutching at a man while you feel like you're dying and being reborn. I've never even come close. So sex isn't that enjoyable to me but it often makes relationships more complicated than they need to be. Quickly, the relationships start to become about sex and not really love. They become about lust. I noticed this when Charles and I were having a hard time holding a conversation when we weren't horizontal. Our relationship started because we liked each other but quickly became sexual which didn't allow us to really get to know each other. I feel like this is why I don't feel fulfilled. I don't have one relationship to look back on that wasn't about our sexual tension. It has never been about two humans who actually like to spend time with each other outside of the bedroom. I crave a relationship like that. A relationship based in personalities and true respect for one another.
Now that I'm realizing this, I want to try it out and see. But alas, nobody interests me enough to test this theory. Thus I feel hopeless. I feel as if my great love will never come riding in on a red line train to 95th. I feel like no one will look at me with the loving eyes I see couples on the train exchange on a daily basis. I feel like my last and greatest love will be based on my ability to suck and jerk. This distresses me and I don't know how to get it out of my head.
So I work hard during the days and cry even harder at night. I throw myself into my work hoping it'll fill me. Classic early 20s? I don't know, I haven't been through them before but I hope they aren't always like this.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Saturday, February 14, 2015
Happy Valentine's Day
Happy Valentine's Day everyone! I hope you are cuddled up with your honey or sweetheart or pookie bear or whatever obscenity you choose to use. If you don't have any of those, I hope the discount chocolate you're going to buy tomorrow fills that void like you hoped it would. I know later this evening I will be drinking away my loneliness with many other people. As of right now, I want to tell a story of why this is a relatively hard day for me. February 14th, 2014, I kicked David Chase Michaels out of my life. Well, I suppose I decided that a week later but that night was the incident that led to that decision. Let me set the scene.
Weeks before Valentine's Day, we had decided that we were each other's Valentine. He kept asking me what meal I would want along with what drink. We planned to watch a movie and slow dance like a real romantic outing. I was excited for an evening with my best friend but I remember being closed off to any ideas of real romance. I told him we absolutely could not watch When Harry Met Sally. He agreed. We moved away from the idea and continued to be excited.
I arrived at Dave's in the early evening with a chocolate rose in hand expecting chicken and Woodchuck. When I arrived, Dave was not only preparing dinner but he had gotten me flowers, chocolates and a card. He also color coordinated his outfit with the candles and candlesticks. Red and black. My favorites. Knowing Dave didn't like to keep things like cards, I only got him chocolate. No peanuts. We hugged then proceeded to eat the delicious dinner he had made for me. We talked about nothing and everything as we always seemed to do when together. Once dinner had been ingested, we had to go our separate ways to respective shows. Later, he picked me up from my show and we returned to that glorious studio apartment. Upon our return, he turned on Frank Sinatra and we slow danced. I was uncomfortable with this for some reason. I kept making jokes about it and feeling like I couldn't trust him to not touch my butt for some reason. I felt this energy from him I hadn't before. I couldn't really put my finger on it. We finished our dance and began watching our favorite break up movie, 500 Days of Summer. We watched this movie with my commentary of how stupid relationships are and how little I want one. Fun fact: I was lying to myself and him. I wanted love more than anything. This plays a part in the next and final part of this story. During the movie, Dave kept saying that I should stay the night. He said, it was too snowy and he didn't want me to get stuck anywhere that he would have to come get me. I kept saying no, knowing what he actually wanted. He wanted to hold someone on Valentine's Day. He had been single for a couple of months at that time with no hope of another woman in sight. He always called me his #2 when he was dating his long time girlfriend and when they broke up, I was dating other people. Also we were BFF's and I could never imagine us being "together" in any capacity but apparently he did for at least these few seconds. As I was leaving, he slowly closed his eyes and went for the kiss. He didn't just lean in, he was embracing me. I remember that the only words I could utter while pushing him off were "Dave, NO!" Once I got him off of me, I was so infuriated that I yelled, "I'm taking the chocolates!" and slammed the door in his face. I ran down to my car, which was covered in snow, muttering obscenities to myself. How could he do that? I trusted him to be the one guy to never do that to me. I felt so betrayed.
I know now that I over reacted in those moments. He was a better friend to me than anyone had ever been and I turned him away after one mistake on his part. All he wanted was someone to hold that night. He was so lonely at that point in time and I cut off one of the relationships he loved most because I was scared of myself. I didn't know how to work things out and move on. I just thought it had to be over.
About a week later, we met to talk about the incident and I asked him why he did it. He simply replied, "Because I wanted to." At the time, that was not a good enough excuse for me. The trust was officially broken in that moment.
I have realized in the last few months, I was so terribly wrong. If I could go back, I would have stayed with him that night. If I would have known I would never have been able to hug him again, I would have cuddled him all night a year ago. I would have slow danced with him until my legs went numb. I would have kissed him until my lips fell off. I would do anything if it meant we got one more minute together. One more minute to tell him how sorry I am and how much I wish he knew what he meant to me. One more minute to laugh at his jokes and hear him laugh at mine. One more minute of that face, smiling, moving, alive. I would honestly do anything.
But I can't do anything to bring him back so I sit here with my coffee and try to remember the good days when I wasn't being a bitch. I remember the days he took me to the drive in, the days he slept in my apartment, the days I slept in his. I just try to remember how much he loved me. That's all I can do. Especially on a day like this, with haunting memories like that.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
Weeks before Valentine's Day, we had decided that we were each other's Valentine. He kept asking me what meal I would want along with what drink. We planned to watch a movie and slow dance like a real romantic outing. I was excited for an evening with my best friend but I remember being closed off to any ideas of real romance. I told him we absolutely could not watch When Harry Met Sally. He agreed. We moved away from the idea and continued to be excited.
I arrived at Dave's in the early evening with a chocolate rose in hand expecting chicken and Woodchuck. When I arrived, Dave was not only preparing dinner but he had gotten me flowers, chocolates and a card. He also color coordinated his outfit with the candles and candlesticks. Red and black. My favorites. Knowing Dave didn't like to keep things like cards, I only got him chocolate. No peanuts. We hugged then proceeded to eat the delicious dinner he had made for me. We talked about nothing and everything as we always seemed to do when together. Once dinner had been ingested, we had to go our separate ways to respective shows. Later, he picked me up from my show and we returned to that glorious studio apartment. Upon our return, he turned on Frank Sinatra and we slow danced. I was uncomfortable with this for some reason. I kept making jokes about it and feeling like I couldn't trust him to not touch my butt for some reason. I felt this energy from him I hadn't before. I couldn't really put my finger on it. We finished our dance and began watching our favorite break up movie, 500 Days of Summer. We watched this movie with my commentary of how stupid relationships are and how little I want one. Fun fact: I was lying to myself and him. I wanted love more than anything. This plays a part in the next and final part of this story. During the movie, Dave kept saying that I should stay the night. He said, it was too snowy and he didn't want me to get stuck anywhere that he would have to come get me. I kept saying no, knowing what he actually wanted. He wanted to hold someone on Valentine's Day. He had been single for a couple of months at that time with no hope of another woman in sight. He always called me his #2 when he was dating his long time girlfriend and when they broke up, I was dating other people. Also we were BFF's and I could never imagine us being "together" in any capacity but apparently he did for at least these few seconds. As I was leaving, he slowly closed his eyes and went for the kiss. He didn't just lean in, he was embracing me. I remember that the only words I could utter while pushing him off were "Dave, NO!" Once I got him off of me, I was so infuriated that I yelled, "I'm taking the chocolates!" and slammed the door in his face. I ran down to my car, which was covered in snow, muttering obscenities to myself. How could he do that? I trusted him to be the one guy to never do that to me. I felt so betrayed.
I know now that I over reacted in those moments. He was a better friend to me than anyone had ever been and I turned him away after one mistake on his part. All he wanted was someone to hold that night. He was so lonely at that point in time and I cut off one of the relationships he loved most because I was scared of myself. I didn't know how to work things out and move on. I just thought it had to be over.
About a week later, we met to talk about the incident and I asked him why he did it. He simply replied, "Because I wanted to." At the time, that was not a good enough excuse for me. The trust was officially broken in that moment.
I have realized in the last few months, I was so terribly wrong. If I could go back, I would have stayed with him that night. If I would have known I would never have been able to hug him again, I would have cuddled him all night a year ago. I would have slow danced with him until my legs went numb. I would have kissed him until my lips fell off. I would do anything if it meant we got one more minute together. One more minute to tell him how sorry I am and how much I wish he knew what he meant to me. One more minute to laugh at his jokes and hear him laugh at mine. One more minute of that face, smiling, moving, alive. I would honestly do anything.
But I can't do anything to bring him back so I sit here with my coffee and try to remember the good days when I wasn't being a bitch. I remember the days he took me to the drive in, the days he slept in my apartment, the days I slept in his. I just try to remember how much he loved me. That's all I can do. Especially on a day like this, with haunting memories like that.
Thanks for listening. Come back for more.
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