LEGS

I was thinking about life the other day, which is not uncommon in fact I think about life a lot. I've noticed that people generally don't like to talk about it with me because I just say things are weird all the time. Like legs. And walking. You have these two dangling limbs connected by a muscle joint rubber band thing called a knee and it takes momentum to propel yourself forward step by step and they just dangle back and forth moving you in any direction you want. WEIRD. Can you imagine if instead of our main source of attraction being facial looks, in todays society, it was based on legs? What would be considered attractive? Masculine legs? Dainty legs? Tan legs? Hairy legs? Cankles? Varicose vaines? Cellulite? Lets picture that world. Let us picture that instead of a "thigh gap" being most desirable (which i'll truly never understand) we want thickness and hair, for protection. Instead of tan, smooth skin we see fair, rough skin, for experience. Instead of seeing airbrushed perfection we see raw, natural, grotesque legs. Legs that are wise, smart, durable and reliable. I do not have a "thigh gap." I have never had said "thigh gap" and the only time I wish my thighs didn't rub together was in July when it's fucking hot outside and the friction created between my legs can leave them raw and sore. But my legs have been sculpted from years of sports, playing outside, riding my bike, swimming with friends, running around campuses and away from trouble, gettin low on the dance floor, workout challenges and ice cream. They are my legs. And man are they WEIRD.

In my Sophomore year of high school I tried to start a exercise routine with my best friend. We would go jogging for 20 minutes and then do crunches, because at the time that's all it took. One night she got exceptionally frustrated at me and said that she hated that she 'jiggled' and didn't want to run anymore. I said "Everyone jiggles. Models jiggle. Your sister jiggles. Athletes jiggle. I jiggle. Whats wrong with jiggling?" And then she pointed the attention to her 'fat thighs.' Naturally, my rebuttal was pointing the attention to MY 'fat thighs'. (Let me point out that I have never, ever, ever in the history of existence in my life been ashamed of my legs. Ever. Honestly. I love'em.) I told her that she should be proud of her FAT thighs because shes able to hold herself up in an entire water polo game, which not a lot of people can do. Guys liked laying on them because they're like pillows, which she had said so herself, and she's never had a problem in that department. She should like them, LOVE them even, because they were a treasure. And they weren't going anywhere.

I don't want to sound vain when I say I love my legs, I'm just very proud of them. I think it is very interesting that women are not blessed with astonishingly easy upper body strength but they ARE blessed with lower halves that produce miracles. That's another thing I find weird. A human being growing inside of you, and once the seed to that little human is planted it will never stop growing. We have to physically push it outside of ourselves, literally cut the chord, and allow it to grow into it's own separate human being. (I am terrified of child birth, but typing this out is actually making me fascinated and amazed by it.) That little human being will (most likely) have legs. Legs that will propel them into creating something for themselves, maybe with another person, and so the cylce continues.

That is so WEIRD.

xo

2:45 AM

I like to write. I think. I like to write in a style that is not scripted. It is the style of thoughts bouncing around in my brain. Freestyle. Free form. Free whatever. I just like to get what I'm thinking about out and in a concise, readable form. Something is pulling me towards stand up and I'm terrified.

I think I'm bipolar, in a sense. Last May I was struggling with some depression that every living person struggles with, and it faded away and I was able to go back to my normal ways, but it's come back. This depression; this stinky, clammy, uncomfortable depression. It feels like a gas bubble that won't go away. No matter how hard you push, how much you massage your belly, how many cans of sprite you drink, it is still so incredibly unsettled. 

I want to travel. I want to travel so bad. I want to see places and meet people and learn about them and talk to them and become them. I met a man the other night who took a road trip from Los Angeles to Belize. BELIZE. He drove from LA to Belize. He swam in an inverted volcano with a hammerhead shark; well, to be clear, he was in the ocean in the vicinity of a hammerhead shark that was swimming. I have no idea what spurs this incessant need to be a gypsy, but I want it. And I want to swim in an inverted volcano. And see pyramids in Egypt. And walk on the Great Wall of China. And take a safari in Africa. And go to rainforests. I want to see the world.

When I heard about the story of Batkid, how the Make a Wish foundation, along with the help from many others, made this little boys dream of being Batman come true, I about fell off my chair. I want to do that. I want to help those who can't help themselves. I want to make the impossible happen. I want to inspire and create and motivate change. I want to let people know they can achieve anything, they can be anything, because that's what I was gifted with when growing up, and that's one hell of a thought to put into ones head; you can be anything you want. You can be ANYTHING you want! How powerful! How resonant! 

I have a purpose. I don't know what that purpose is yet. I may never know what that purpose is. But I'd like to find it. I have a love/hate relationship with Los Angeles. I love who I've met and who's become my closest friends and what it has taught me (and the seemingly perfect weather). I hate the facade it creates, the smog that acts as a mask, shielding you from the ultimately grimy and dirty streets of Hollywood blvd and the people you meet who are so sheltered you hurt for them. 

I am so grateful for everything that my life has come to at this point. I am 24 years old. I am a college graduate and an actor. I live independently (about 10 months out of the year). I am an improviser and a server. I am a wine enthusiast. I live off of my impulses that may or may not get me in trouble. I am a friend, a sister, an aunt, a daughter. I am lonely at times, but I know better than to use people. I love to laugh and don't do it nearly as often as I want to. I love to watch movies I've never seen. I'm a hopeless romantic and a victim of bitch face. I've never had a speeding ticket. I'll always have a crush on Justin Timberlake.

These are my rambling thoughts on the night before Thanksgiving. 

Good night. 

Xoxo

Good night sweet prince

I don't understand death. I don't understand how one Sunday evening a guy could be sending a text message to a girl, and then isn't going to wake up the next morning. My brain can't comprehend the fact that physically you are here, but the light that brings you to life is out; extinguished. You're here, but you're not HERE. You are now only alive in our dreams.

It's unfair.

Death is so fucking unbelievably unfair. 

I'm not a religious person, but I firmly believe that everything happens for a reason. It also makes me tremendously angry that most of the time we will never know that reason. The best that we can do is look back and see just how our stars aligned in order for us to get to this exact place. The best we can do for ourselves is to breath and stay open to the universe. I have to keep reminding myself that day after day. Eric was really good at that.

Here's to the gentleman who was a stickler about chivalry. To the guy who was always there with a helping hand and kind, positive words. To the man working two jobs and going to school to better his future. To the one that knew the true meaning of work hard play harder. Here's to you, Eric Cruz. I wish I knew you better, but I can only feel empathy for the ones that knew you the best. You were taken far to soon.

Please be safe. Hold the ones you love, be kind to each other, try your hardest to not pass judgement and live each day to the fullest. We are put on this planet to love; ourselves and others. Eric was one of the best.

Rest in Paradise my friend.

 

 "Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince: 

And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!"

Libra

How do you balance doing what you love with doing what must be done? I am getting more than burnt out and not in a good way. My passion is still there but it feels as if someTHING is holding back my shoulders, laughing, and watching me squirm. My drive is going straight into making enough money to pay bills. I hate it. With a fiery passion. I'm trying with all my might to be optimistic and positive and keep telling myself that everything happens for a reason but its hard to find that comforting when it's as if you're constantly being shit on in a restaurant that doesn't seem to care, and you find not one but TWO parking tickets on your car, you need an oil change desperately, and you have to pay registration at the end of the month, along with every other bill, and your cabinet and fridge are both empty along with your gas tank, on top of not doing what you love and simply being glanced over like you're just another sily girl in LA with a dream. 

Money should never make someone happy, but it sure as hell relieves a fuck ton of stress. 

I'm struggling a lot right now with what my goals are. I originally moved to LA to pursue acting in film and television professionally. My goal last January was to be able to live comfortably doing what I love, inspiring people and making them think, feel, and breath. It's not as if that goal has changed, I just need to find a different tactic. Is it me? Is it LA? Is it the fact that I may have commitment issues?  

One trap I seem to have fallen into is measuring my success by the success of people around me. I am so profoundly proud of everything my friends have accomplished, how hard they work and are so open to everything, it seems. So I guess my question is very selfish; why not me? What sign am I missing? Who did I piss off? Where do I need to go to make MY dreams come true? I feel so stupid and silly and DUMB for asking such vain questions, but it's TRUE and it's how I FEEL. When will my time come?

There are things I know burn inside of me and I simply can't suppress or quell them: I need to travel and I need to share my love for my craft. I struggle with staying or leaving LA. It's been a year and a half, and I'm only somewhat satisfied. But what do I do? Go back to school? Move to a different city? Sell everything I own and travel the world?

The latter one does sound riveting. 

I need something and I don't know what. I know I'm not happy; im content. I dont want to be stuck in content and compromise my happiness for my bills. That's not fair, to me or the bills. I don't want to leave LA because I feel like my time here isn't finished BUT I am only 23 and there is so much more to explore! 

Part of me feels like if I leave LA, I've quit. I'm giving up and giving in to what every single person in the industry warns you about. I am so unbelievably stubborn that way. But I'm not quitting, right? I'm simply trying a different approach, right? There is so much art in this world that I'm afraid I'm missing out! And for what? Struggling at a job I loathe only to barely pay my bills so that I can 'live the starving artist dream?' I'm all about the starving artist, but only if it means I don't have to serve one more incoherent, snot nosed 19 year old some fucking wings for him to give me a whole dollar in tips (WHOA dream big). I'm not bitter...

I feel as if I'm constantly trying to find the next best thing and I'm never comfortable with what I have. See, Commitment issues. But why should I settle? Especially when I'm not happy! What is better? Having goals and constantly progressing and changing OR living in comfortability with a routine that never changes?

I have a lot on my mind all the time; mostly about what I'm doing and importantly NOT doing with my life. Do I need a therapist? Scratch that, that's too much money. I need a drink and about a grand.

I guess I'm starting to have my quarter life crisis... Holy hell.

Help me Dita

"You can be the ripest, juiciest peach in the world, and there's still going to be somebody who hates peaches."

Ain't that the damn truth.

I'm accustomed to proving people wrong. I happily take on any challenge where someone says "oh no, you couldn't possibly do THAT" But here's my deal, what happens when someone says "you could have, but you didn't" That right there is a risk not taken. And disappointment is FAR worse than anger.

I'm disappointed in myself, through and through. I'm struggling. Having now been told my notes as to why I was not hired as a tour guide dug deep, and it's something that I've been working on with every job. BITCH FACE. I do believe the universe was telling me something when I wasn't hired. Maybe it was that I need to travel this summer, or do a piece of theater, or have PROTECTED sex with all the cute men I meet. Who the hell knows. What I do know is that I need to show that I am happy more often, plain and simple. Because I AM happy. It is a rare day when I am mad or upset. Sure chances are that something bad or irritating just happened, I'm only human to let that show on my face, but this symptom that has affected me for as long as I can remember has now built a brick wall between me and one of my all time dream jobs and that is simply unacceptable. 

To those who know what I'm dealing with, because they suffer the same symptoms, there is nothing worse when someone asks you "are you okay?" YES I'M OKAY. STOP ASKING ME OR I WON'T BE OKAY AND I'M GOING TO TAKE IT OUT ON YOU. Seriously? And I get it, we partly bring it on ourselves because we look 'angry' but I can't help the fact that I have angled features! Not everyone can have the bone structure of that bitch Carey Mulligan (who was a fabulous Daisy), and I envy those that just look kind and sweet 24/7...

At the same time, when I'm walking to my car at 2 a.m after work in an allyway off of Hwood Bvard, I know that nobody is going to mess with me because I look like I could beat their ass with one nostril flair. Can Carey Mulligan say the same? Didn't think so.

It's a hard knock world, but I've got the thick skin and bitch face to take it. I'll see you in September Universal, with a God damn smile on my face just waiting for you to tell me YES.

Lesbionest

I wish saying 'I love you' was enough to fix all problems. I wish I could cure heart ache, worry and insecurity with those three words. To see the people you care so deeply for in pain is a feeling I am never prepared for. 

I don't like to hold my tongue, but I know when it is not my turn to speak. I believe there is the family we are born into, and the family we choose. I was gifted with a few women in college I proudly call my sisters. We've gone through rough patches, fights, boys, laughter, vomit and burritos. These girls, I love. These girls, I would kill for. It's when these girls feel pain, I feel pain. How do you save them? How do you hold them in your arms, tell them you love them and wash their pain away? 

I want to give you the strength to persevere. I want to give you hope and courage. I want to make you accept that there are things we can not change. I want you to relish in your own greatness. I want you to be proud of what you have accomplished. Most of all, I want you to live without restriction.

This is my gift, and ultimate curse. As an actor, rejection is your paycheck. It's what you choose to do afterwards that forms your thick skin. But there is no amount of preparation you could possibly do to cure others hearts. 

You hear stories and watch movies of groups of friends who save each other, while growing up, and ultimately long for just that: companionship. Those few and select people who know what you're thinking without you even having to blink. You never have to tell them what you want for your birthday, because they know that it's going to be sex. And they will try everything in their power to make that happen. 

To my companions, my wingmen, my sisters who have saved me in countless ways: I love you. I wish more than anything in the whole world that I could abolish any and all pain from your heart every single day, and have you only learn the lessons you are bound to learn with sunshine and flowers, because we all know those two ingredients heal all. I love you. I love you. A million times, I love you. 

Lesbionest, if we wouldn't have met, we would be a bunch of crack heads on the streets. 

:)

Our tear ducts need a rest

Break ups are hard. It doesn't mater if you've been dating for 2 months or 2 years. They hurt. They sting. Only because at some point in the extent of your relationship you truly cared deeply for your respected other. It's never fun to tell someone you just don't feel it anymore. You'd almost rather say "I cheated on you" "you're ass looks fat in those jeans anyway" "I'm moving to a far distant land where I need to focus on the culture" but unfortunately, that wont due. Both parties need closure and honesty is ALWAYS the best policy. It will indeed hurt like a dagger through the heart, you'll feel like you'll never bounce back, but it is necessary.

I feel selfish. I was single for just about two and a half years and then I met this amazing guy and we hit it off, got disconnected for a bit, then started right back where we were and spent some truly wonderful moments together. But when you know, you know. I feel selfish because in those two and a half years I really reflected on myself, my life, my friends, my schooling and my work. I was single my senior year of college and all through my first year living in LA. You'd think that's enough time to reflect, right? You'd think you'd have figured your shit out, you're solid. You've had all of this time to focus on YOU. So when you meet this incredible man, who truly is a gem among stones, you know it's perfect. It's meant to be. Everything has led you here, to this spot.

But the honeymoon phase doesn't last forever. And you realize that all that time you had to 'reflect' has only led you to this point in your life, where you indeed need legitimate time for yourself in this mad, crazy, sadistic world. How can you possibly expect to give yourself to someone if you have no idea who you're giving, let alone if you SHOULD give them an unfinished product? It's unfair to you and your partner. A relationship runs both ways and you can't expect the other person to meet you at your end every single time. And maybe it's over right now, but that doesn't mean that it's over forever. It is simply not in the stars for you two right now.

Being an adult is hard, heartache hurts, but the beautiful thing is that the sun will continue to rise. You will continue to breath. Life will continue to go on. The only thing now, as my dad says, is that I'll be able to use this. I need wine.

Stay honest, LA.

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