Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Surfing Santa

Can you believe it's almost Thanksgiving? More so, can you believe we are about to enter the last month of this year?

I find that as I get older, every single time we get to Thanksgiving, I am blown away by how quickly the year is coming to an end.

Why does that happen?


I think that it may because the older we get the more aware of time we become. Because in all actuality time is moving at the same pace it was moving 20 years ago...but 20 years ago the thing that consumed my thoughts was the harsh realization that Santa Clause didn't exist.

And while I am still bummed that the North Pole is more than likely just an arctic tundra with no jolly fellows with elf friends and reindeer powered modes of does not consume my thoughts anymore.

However what is consuming my thoughts is the sheer chaos and triumph that has been 2013. This year has been so full of people, experiences and magical happenings that I am utterly thankful for. And thus I've had one of the best years of my life.

I am so thankful for that.

It all just happened so fast.

I feel like I got swept up in the most wonderful, painful, scary, exciting and rewarding wave of my life and now I am standing on the shore looking out to sea and wondering how to jump back in and keep swimming.

Jumping back in is a little daunting though.

After my show...I was (and still am) filled with this new found vitality. I feel more myself than I have ever before. And that is an intoxicating feeling.

Now the feeling of invincibility that I am discovering...well, it's tricky. It has lead to some dangerous (read: naive) decisions. And it would be insincere of me to tell you that I didn't make some profoundly dangerous (read: super naive) decisions while I was trying to figure out how to jump back in.

You see, when my show ended I was inundated with the same two questions for a good week and a half.

What's your next project?

So do you think you will have sex now?

These questions don't bother me. Not really. But I didn't know how to answer them.

No clue.

I am very accustomed to a having no clue on how to answer what my next project will be. It's the inevitable nature of the performer's life. This question is not unknown waters...I know exactly how to tread these waters.

The other question...well that was a new body of water for me...

And new is exciting.

However, I am not very accustomed to having to answer if I am ready to finally have sex. It's uncomfortable. It's a lot of pressure. This question is completely unknown territory for me and I know the answer for myself but there has been an overwhelming need to prove to myself that I have changed and that I'm not all talk and no action (pun only slightly intended) and I jumped in...hoping that everything I had discovered about myself was all I needed to keep my head above water.

As it turns out...jumping into the unknown to prove something to oneself or others, is no reason to jump into anything.

I jumped into waters that were attractive and misleading. I jumped into waters that were unkind and thoughtless. And I found myself washed up on shore, feeling confused, manipulated (by my misguided desire to prove something to myself and by those attractive, charming and manipulating waters) but also feeling glad that I knew when to get out before I let these waters take away things that were not theirs to take.

Sitting on the preverbal shore of my life...looking back on this month, this month of new found life, courage and confidence...this month of jumping into things that threatened my new hope, I can't help but think how great it would be if the only thing I was questioning was whether or not Santa Clause was real and not questioning myself.

Silly though it may sound...maybe where I was 20 years ago and where I am now aren't too terribly different.

20 years ago I didn't want to stop believing in magic.

Today I don't want to stop believing in magic.

But how do you sustain that magical feeling? How do you keep believing anything is possible when life goes astray?

I have no definitive answer except to say that I think it has a lot to do with trust, reflection and time.

Trusting that if you feel something and truly believe in something...then there is no need to prove anything because what you feel and believe are real and they are true.

Reflecting back on a a year that seems to have passed so quickly yet seeing just how far you can come within 12 short little months.

And time. Time to trust yourself. Time to reflect on everything you've done because you believed in possibility and you believed in yourself.

I definitely don't have all the answers. But I definitely know that life ebbs and flows in a really fascinating way. I definitely know that I believe in magic and that I am capable of creating it. I definitely know that no matter how banged up I am when I wash up on shore, I will always jump back in because I know that the next great wave is waiting for me to catch it and I won't miss it.

I used to wonder if I would tell my future kids about Santa Clause. After this year, I know that I will because I want them to know that magic exists and when they feel like they've lost it...I will tell them about that one time their mom caught a wave that showed her that you can always get it back...and that it still exists.

Thursday, August 1, 2013

Flowers of Kindness

We all know I hate the summer in the city. I feel as though I have made that abundantly clear through this blog and through my willingness to jump down the emotional drain when the temperatures rise.

The sad drain. The sad and confused drain.

...the lonely drain.


Jumping down drains is dumb...and draining.

(Rim shot)

When the summer began I was hopeful for the season and I fought against the yuck.

I could feel myself losing my battle and then a series of unfortunate events blew the lid off my ability to hold my composure.

And this week I lost it.

Now we are talking ugly girl crying and lots of sad girl music on repeat.

Guys, I am talking lots of sad girl music.

....I'm listening to sad girl music right now.

Shut up.

The culmination of my summer break down came to a head on Monday.

Everything went wrong.

I found myself at work trying to power through and hanging on by a very thin thread and as my night was winding down I turned around and my friend and co-worker Francisco was standing there.

Now let me tell you about this guy.

To put it simply...he's the best. His heart is so big, so beautiful and he's always helped me out by covering shifts for me when I have rehearsal or a show. This last part is a big deal because getting shifts covered last minute in a restaurant is like pulling teeth and when you work in a restaurant with a lack of actors its like pulling teeth from an old man who has no teeth to pull.

But he always has my back. And on Monday it was no different.

He knew how upset I was on Monday. The night came to a close. He left and I continued on through the rest of my shift.

And then all the sudden Francisico walks back in with flowers, hands them to me and says:

"Everything happens for a reason, Colleen. I believe that."

A simple and surprising kindness.

I cried. (contain your shock)

I was so moved by Francisico's kindness. He could never know how much I needed that. At that point, after a long weekend of sad news, heartbreak and confusion, I could have never imagined that Francisico's kindness would be just the hand I needed to help me climb out of my drain. sure is powerful.

Kindness is simple but profound.

As I look at the purple flowers sitting in my vase, I am reminded how important it is to care for each love each other...and to be kind to each other.

I think I don't like the summer because for some reason I get trapped in my own thoughts, my own struggles and I am not kind to myself, which inevitably results in me just focusing on all the negative aspects of life and love and kindness don't come as easily to me. I have a hard time getting out of that viscous cycle.

I started the summer with strangers showing me random acts of kindness. And then I lost my way and I fell down until a caring friend reached out a hand and offered me a simple kindness.

I look back on this weekend and I think about a friend back home who passed away Saturday and all I can think about is how much kindness he shared with anyone he met, how much love he gave to the world and all of us who were lucky to be his acquaintance, his friend or his fellow actor. And I feel inspired by the light that he still shines on the world.

I look back on Monday and I think of Francisico who took the time to give me a kindness and a wise reminder. And I am deeply thankful.

The summer isn't over yet and I am still climbing back up out of my drain. But now the climb isn't a struggle as much as it is a journey towards change. Climbing towards an existence that is less self centered and more...well, kind.

Kind to others. Kind to myself.

An existence of trusting that there is always someone walking right beside you. Whether it be a stranger, a coworker, or a friend.

We just have to choose to take in the kindness and let it pull us through.

And of course, return it whenever we can because after all...

Everything happens for a reason.

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Express Yourself

A couple of months before I moved to New York I was saying goodbye to a friend of mine and he grabbed my arm and told me:

"Promise me you will write down everything that happens to you in New York."

That comment obviously stuck with me...

The other day I was in Central Park working on a project. I had some down time so I sat myself on a bench, pulled out my note book and started working on a few things I needed to get done. About fifteen minutes went by before I met Eddie.

Who is Eddie?

Well Eddie is a 70ish year old man who tools around the city on a motorized scooter. I, for some reason peaked Eddie's interest as he scooted up right next to me and initiated conversation.

"Sorry to interrupt but is it raining?"

Seeing as both Eddie, myself and the sun were out, I was caught off guard. I stared at him as my mind flashed back to the day before when my dear friend Aidan and I were sitting in a coffee shop and a homeless man came in and walked straight up to our table and asked for money and left without bothering anyone else. Aidan experienced first hand the power of my stranger magnet.

Now Eddie wasn't homeless and he didn't ask me for a single penny which was nice but he was in fact incredibly weird.

Once I informed him that it wasn't raining he clumsily transitioned our conversation into the ups and downs of his life as a writer.

He pulled out a beat up pack of Camel Lights, struck a match and as he lit his cigarette I knew I was in for an interesting moment.

You see back in the 80's he used frequent a diner on the west side and at that diner he met a young aspiring singer. He told me how the two of them would stay up until the wee hours of the morning drinking coffee and talking about their ups and downs as aspiring artists. He had just moved back to the city after a couple years of living in and performing in Las Vegas and she told him how all she wants to do is sing but she had trouble believing she had what it took to make it in show business. But Eddie assured me that he believed in her. Apparently they remained close until one day she became the superstar he always told her she could be.

She no longer had time for Eddie and their late night coffee dates.

This upset Eddie. Even I could still see how upset this still made him as his eyes searched my face for a response that would give him peace of mind.

I had nothing. I didn't know what to say. Mostly because I was trying to decide if he was completely insane or if he was actually being sincere.

As he took the final puffs of his cigarette he told me that he waits outside her apartment complex on 81st street hoping that, even after all these years she would see him and they would pick up right where they left off. But no such luck.

"Maybe you should just move on." I said delicately.

"Would you mind reading the letter I am going to send to her, and let me know what you think?" He said with a bit of a pleading tone.

How could I say no?

So he digs into his scooter basket and pulls out a yellow legal pad, hands it to me, lights another cigarette, and watches me closely as I read his 4 page letter to Madonna.

When I see who it's addressed to I resolve that poor Eddie is probably more on the insane side and less of the sincere side of the spectrum. But I kept reading.

The letter was full of passion. Full of hurt. Full of confusion as to why he hasn't made it as an artist and why she had and so easily left him in the dust.

As he finished his second cigarette and I finished the letter I looked at his sad eyes and all I could say was...

"I'm sorry, Eddie."

And I was.

Whether or not he was insane or being honest didn't matter. I was sorry that he felt his dreams had never and will never come true.

We shared a smile.

He asked me to write down his home phone number and to give him a call if I'd ever like to meet up with him in the park and help him with some short stories he was working on.

I took his number down when my phone rang. I let it ring because I felt like Eddie needed me to be there with him for a little bit longer. So we sat there, he on his scooter, me on the bench and we shared some silence.

My phone rang again and I decided to pick up and give myself a way out of the conversation because I did need to go but I didn't have the heart to just walk away.

As we went our separate ways my first response was to laugh at the absurdity of what had just happened. I didn't know what to do except laugh at it.

But tonight, while I was ending a long and exhausting shift at work Eddie crept back into my thoughts.

Being an aspiring artist is terrifying. It requires great risk. But the passion to create and to dedicate your life to doing so is unexplainable but it's a necessity for survival if you are bitten by the artistic bug.

What if I never make anything of myself? What if I am always just a cocktail server with big dreams for the future and all of the sacrifices I've made to be in New York and follow my dreams were all for not? What if I go crazy and become Madonna's oldest stalker?

As I sat in my cab on my way home tonight I not only thought of Eddie but I thought of what my friend told me before I moved to New York.

"Write everything down."

And while I was writing down the story of Eddie, I realized that I am grateful that I was able to keep Eddie company that afternoon. Grateful to be someone for Eddie to connect with for a brief moment.

We were two aspiring artists, one young, one old. He shared a story and now I am sharing a story.

It didn't work out for Eddie. Maybe it won't work out for me...but by god I am going to do everything in my power to make sure it does. For me and for Eddie. Because I can't imagine doing and being anywhere else.

With great risk comes great reward...

Saturday, June 1, 2013

Summer Clowning.

Summer in New York is a tricky thing.

Tricky meaning, I don't like it.

I feel like most people think the summer in the city is cool and perhaps they even look forward to it. Not having to wear a million layers just to keep warm. Not trudging through snow. Being able to sit on patios. And just being able to enjoy this place in a different way.

And yeah...I totally love those things too. And while I am about to list all the reasons those things aren't good enough to win me over on my "summer in the city" feelings...I do look forward to those things as well.


I haven't had a good summer in this city yet...

My first summer here I was out of work and living on (blowing through) my savings account. And then I got mugged...and lost $700...and all my i.d.'s...on my way to the airport.

-10 points for summer.

My second summer I was again out of work because I had just quit my job because of a busy final two months of school. So I found myself spending my days working a string of really shitty low paying jobs with really thrilling responsibilities that include but are not limited to: sweeping up peanuts and cleaning poop out of dressing rooms.

-12 points for summer.
-53 points for poop in dressing rooms.

My third summer was a little more stable in the work department but it was generally a summer of personal and emotional struggles. My own personal Chekhovian hell. And while my own hoopla didn't really have anything to do the fact it was summer time...I'm gonna go ahead and blame summer time anyway because blaming things that have nothing to do with weather on weather is just so much easier.

-9.05 for summer
-72 pooping in dressing rooms (I mean COME ON)

My fourth summer...well it's just beginning.

Today I really felt like summer was here for good. Maybe it was the unbearable heat. Maybe it was saying goodbye to my best friend who leaves NYC for gigs every summer, maybe it was the unquestionable choice to opt for iced coffee and not hot coffee at the bodega this morning. I don't know.

As the day continued and I walked to the train to go to work,. anxiety crept into my stomach. I thought about how much I love New York but when I don't like her (like I typically don't in summer time) she wears me out and fills my thoughts with doubts about the choices that led me here.

And then a clown car pulled up.

...No, I'm completely serious.

I was standing at the cross walk waiting to you know...cross...when I look up and this black jeep with big red clown lips and and clown eyes on the front of the car, pulls up to me. The window rolls down as a man dressed as the happiest clown I've ever seen simply said:

"Smile, beautiful."

And he drove off.


Wait, what?

That's not real life.

All the sudden this damn city lured me back in with a classic "Only in New York" moment. I mean really though, only in New York can a clown drive up and intercept your negative thoughts with such a kind reminder to smile.

Hope for the summer began to fill my head. Could this could be a great one with so lots of smiles?

And then I got to work and I suffered a few blows to my recharged hope. A common hazard of the hospitality industry.

One of my first tables of the night was this older couple. The man of this duo pretty much asked me every question there is to ask about the menu, he sent me to the kitchen to ask the chef a myriad of weird questions, he made lots of uncomfortable references to he and his wife's sex life and tons of bad jokes at my expense.

They made things difficult and I was annoyed. My smiles were all forced as I powered through.

When the time came to drop the check (a long awaited moment), I thanked them, we shared one last bad joke and they left.


I went to pick up the signed check and inside the bill holder was a generous tip and the gentleman's business card.

On the back of the card read:

"Keep that smile, Colleen."


Wait, WHAT?


My heart felt full. My smile felt the most genuine it had all week because Mr. Questions McBadjokes made my night.

Today I was full of doubts and worries for the impending change of seasons. Today a clown randomly pulled up to me and told me to smile. Today a bothersome but kind old man reminded me again, to smile. Tonight I am sitting on my porch, on this beautiful night, doing what I love, with a smile.

My fourth summer here...well, it began with an overwhelming desire to

+100 for summer.

-94 for pooping in dressing rooms.

Monday, April 22, 2013

The Care Bear Countdown.

When I was younger, I had no doubts that magic was real. I believed that bears with shamrocks and sunshine etched on their bellies were just as capable of saving the world as a group of teens with elemental rings that summoned Captain Planet.

Unfortunately as time passed my belief in things like these faded. With every tragedy, with every struggle that life dealt me it became all too easy to just resolve that life is hard and the only magic left in the world was the power of endurance.

Lately, all I have wanted to feel was the belief in magic again.

Now, as you know I am a bit of an enigma in our day and age. I had a conversation with a friend a couple of nights ago about the subject of my blog. He was generally perplexed as to how I could have possibly never had sex before. He went through a list of conclusions to be drawn as to why this could be so.

-I am bat shit crazy.
-I am super religous.
-I am waiting to fall in love.
-I am A-sexual.


We then discussed each thing he listed in detail.

Bat shit crazy. No, no I don't think I am. I think I am pretty grounded in reality and although I definitely have my eccentricities, I don't see myself ever slashing some dudes tires because he told me I was pretty and then didn't call the next day. I'm pretty easy going and a law abiding

He agreed. And since he's known me for a while now, I was comforted in his validation on this point.

Super religious. No. I grew up in the Bible Belt yes, but I have always had an inquistive and open minded nature and I didn't strap on any kind of Jesus Chastity belt...and unless some higher power is preparing me to give birth to the next Messiah without my consent or knowledge we can go ahead and rule this conclusion out right now.

He and I laughed.

Waiting to fall in love. I don't sit around and wait for things. It's not who I am. It's not what I do. I don't think falling in love and sex go hand in hand either. I think sometimes they of course do, but sitting around and waiting for an idea of what I maybe think love is or could be seems counterproductive. Too much pressure.

He and I agreed.

I'm A-Sexual. Haha, noooo. I am not. Not at all. I have a soft spot for watching documentaries and I recently watched a piece on the subject and I can safely assure you that I am not an A-Sexual. I go on dates guys...I swear. Not often but I do, do that kind of stuff.

He and I discussed my last dating disaster and laughed, again.

So after we sorted through all his theories I brought up my favorite theory of all.

When my friend Allison learned about my chaste ways she without missing a beat, blurted out with gusto...


This will ultimately go down as my favorite response ever.

It made me feel kinda cool. And guys, as an old virgin it can sometimes be hard to feel cool unless Tina Fey is on TV talking about how she was an old virgin I right, ladies?

But why not embrace being a damn mythical beast? Because now that I have, I feel some pretty strong magic welling up inside of me. I've got an interesting story to tell. I've got friends with infinite magic oozing out of them willing to help me tell my story. And maybe once I do share my full story I can make people feel a little less alone with the things that make them feel different and judged. Because we are all in this together. And just because magic isn't what I once thought it may be, it's still very real. We all have it within us, we just have to not be afraid of it and let it shine through us with confidence.

Basically what I am trying to say is that if I were a Care Bear, my belly would have a unicorn on it.

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

After the Sneeze.

I was sitting on the train tonight and a lady sneezed.

Not breaking news or anything. Of course not even remotely unusual. But tonight it bothered me.

...not the sneezing.

But what happened afterwards...

It is a rare occasion that I won't say 'bless you' to someone if I witness a sneeze.

When I was a kid it felt like everyone always said 'bless you' after a sneeze and the sneezer always said 'thank you.' It was just what happened. It felt rude not to.

And as time went on and the older I got it seemed like no one ever said it anymore.

I was sitting on the train tonight and a lady sneezed and I said 'bless you.'

She then gave me the dirtiest look.

She looked at me as if I had just said something terrible about her mother. But I didn't. I said 'bless you.'

I almost instantly looked away in shame or shock (I can't tell) and I sat there and I wondered what had just happened.

Now, I am entirely used to people completely ignoring me when I salute their sneeze and I am always very surprised and delighted when people look up at me after releasing their nasal passages, with a smile and we share a little moment of wishing each other well.

But I've never experienced so dirty of a look before.

I sat there and I wondered why I even said it. Why do I keep saying it when no one else cares or not if you acknowledge the fact that they are sneezing? Do I just instinctively do it because I was raised to?

Maybe...I've honestly never thought about why I keep saying it before tonight.

Now, I'm the type of person who always gets stopped in the street and asked for directions or asked to take group pictures. I'm the type of person who if you are standing in a long line chances are if I am behind you or in front of you, we will end up talking. People who notice this quality about me generally say something along the lines of "it's because you seem nice."

I seem nice.

That's not a bad word. That's not a bad thing. But it's also not a specific word or a specific thing.

But I don't think it's the thing that makes these things happen.

We have so many opportunities to exclude ourselves from everyone around us. We put our headphones in and we rush off to our next destination lost in our own thoughts, worries and cares. We clutch our phones and surf the web, catch up with what's going on with people on Facebook and we rarely live in the 'now.' The very literal sense of the 'now.'

I use the term 'we' because I am very much including myself in those generalizations.

Tonight as I stood on the train platform waiting to go home I had a thousand things on my mind.

The train raced up to the platform as fast as the thoughts in my head. The doors opened. I sat down. I thought about how I miss my family. I thought about all the emails I have to send out. I thought about how I am going to need to buy new shampoo pretty soon. I thought about traveling. I thought about buying a dog. I thought about how I need a haircut. I thought about...

And then a lady sneezed and I said 'bless you.'

So tonight after a lot of thought, I've decided I will keep saying 'bless you' no matter if I am given a dirty look, if I am ignored or appreciated because it's an opportunity to check back in with the 'now' and wish another person, who may be sick, who may be feeling alone, who may be lost in thought, well. It's an opportunity to share a kindness.

And's nice. I really like nice.

Monday, February 11, 2013

Doc in the Box

A couple of weeks ago I fell quite ill.

My stomach was in knots, I couldn't eat, I could barely sleep and I knew what I had to do...

I had to go to the doctor.

Now let it be known that I truly hate going to the doctor, for many reasons. Namely, I don't like being weighed by a stranger and then have to watch them record the number with the knowledge that they will be passing it on to another stranger. It feels too much like middle school when someone gets ahold of a piece of paper that you've written Colleen Timberlake all over and then passes it around to the whole class. It's just too much personal information being unnessascarily exposed.

Another reason I hate going to the doctor is that I recently lost my health insurance when I turned twenty six and I am not a rich person. Believe it or not, I wait tables to pay bills, not just for fun. Weird, I know.

But the main reason I hate the going to the doctor is well...

They. Always. Think. You're. Pregnant.

I mean really.

If I went in there and told them I got hit by a bus or that my toe hurt, they would make me pee in a cup to "rule out pregnancy."

If you are a follower of my blog then I'm sure you know why this part of the doctor experience is a lot for me to deal with.

If you are new to my blog, well then allow me to be more specific...

The morning I decided to go to the doctor and make sure I wasn't dying, my best friend Taylor came and walked with me to my appointment. This Taylor Walsh guy is a real gem and he sat patiently in the waiting room while I filled out my paperwork.

"Do you want me to go in the room with you?"

I stopped and thought for a second and I decided that I did want him there with me to hold me responsible for my less than healthy life choices. It's easier to lie about how much coffee you drink when there isn't a person in the room who can call your bluff.

So he graciously stayed by my side and vowed to hold me accountable...because I'm clearly a child.

Now when I asked him to stay with me I had forgot about all the embarrassing questions the nurse asks you before the doctor actually examines you.

"Please step on the scale."


"When was your last period?"

Oh. Dear. God.

Not only is that just a personal question that I don't freely and openly talk about, it's also a question that leads to that infamous plastic cup that demands to be peed in.

My already upset stomach sank as the nurse shuffled me off to the bathroom to "rule out pregnancy."

She closed the door.

I stood there.

I stood there some more.

I stood there and knew that if I didn't just pull my pants down and pee in that damn cup things were gonna get awkward fast in this doctor's office.

Now, as I had told you previously, my stomach was a disaster and I couldn't eat or drink anything without wanting to be sick, thus the doctor visit. So trying to pee was a task to say the least.

I was in that bathroom for upwards of a half an hour trying to make myself pee. I was imagining waterfalls, fountains, rain showers, all while letting the sink pour water into the drain.

Nothing worked. My bladder was closed for business.

I started to panic because I knew that if I didn't walk out there with a full cup of non pregnant pee, I would have to tell them that there was no way I am pregnant and to be honest, I didn't want to have to deal with their doubt and judgement that morning.

So naturally I text Taylor from the bathroom with a frantic:

"I. Can't. Pee."

He then suggests drinking water.

Oh...right. There's that whole logic thing again.

So I sneak out of the bathroom and successfully make it to the lobby to grab water. The Pregnancy Police didn't spot me. So far so good...

As I try to slink back into the bathroom, the doctor spots me.


He guides me into the examining room where Taylor is waiting for me.

Taylor spots the empty pee cup in my hand and the full water cup in the other hand and we share a knowing look.

This will not end well.

The doctor asks why I didn't pee. I coyly say:

"Just need some water, heh."

He then proceeds to have me lay down, unbuttons my jeans and begins to push all over my stomach. As I stifle my urge to throw up as he presses down hard on my abdomen, I begin to explain to him that I recently went vegan and that I think the diet change on top of a bout of anxiety may be why I don't feel well. He agrees and lectures me on how I need to be more careful with my diet change. He then prescribes some acid reflux medicine. And just when I thought I dodged the pregnancy bullet, he asks me to step into the bathroom and fill up the cup just to...what's that? Yeah you guessed it "to rule out pregnancy."

I look at Taylor for courage. He smiles and I almost instantly blurt out:

"If the pee is to just rule out pregnancy, then we can go ahead and rule that out right now."

He looks at me blankly.

I continue...

"I've never had sex."

He looks at me like a deer in head lights.


He couldn't even hide his shock and dismay.


He then looks at me sternly and holds up his right hand crosses his fingers in a "scout's honor" fashion and says:


I reluctantly and embarrassingly hold up my right hand and cross my fingers:


"Who's this?" he says pointing at Taylor.

"My best friend."

"Oh...How old are you?"

Suddenly I am nauseous again and I pathetically utter a:

"Please don't ask me that, sir."


"I'm 26."


I sit there waiting for some kind of crack about how I wouldn't die if I were in a horror film or if he can have my phone number in case he finds himself up against some incurable disease and a drop of virgin blood is the only hope or something...

But he then says...

"Good for you girl. I'm proud of you!"

Great. The doc in the box is proud of me. Scratch that off the bucket list.

As he exits the room, Taylor grabs my leg as I sit there with my pants still wide open. He looks at me like a baby who just fell down and he desperately tries to fill the room with smiles and laughter and before we both know it I am sitting there exposed and crying like a damn baby.

Low point.

But as I cried I quickly replayed what just happened in my head and I start laughing really hard.


We laugh. Hard. Taylor then points out that, the doctor probably sees a lot of girls my age come in with their boyfriends complaining of stomach issues that are actually pre-baby issues.

We laugh. Harder this time.

The proud doctor re-entered, handed me my prescription for heartburn and saluted me with a:

"Keep doing you, girl."

I buttoned my pants. Put on my jacket and we left.

But I left with a little more than a prescription. I left with a little more courage.

You see the thing is, I am who I am and I can't and won't apologize for it. And yes, that means I am a weirdly old virgin. I'm not gonna be ashamed of that anymore. Because honestly, it's not a big deal. It's not some big moral choice I am making. It's more of a result of the life that I've lived, the things that have happened to me or not happened for me. I can't change that and as much as I hated that doctor that day, I am gonna take his advice and I am gonna "keep doing me." (Pun intended).

With that said I would like to take this opportunity to let you guys know that I am currently working on turning my story into a show of sorts. Why not? Right? Right!

Monday, January 28, 2013

The Naked Truth

Oh man guys...

I know, it's been a coon's age!

But I am still here. If my intentions where more active I would have posted at least 25 more blogs since the last time I updated but you know...My intentions are most of the time just intentions, as I am sure you are now realizing.


Life has been weird lately. Weird is vague but I feel like the illusive nature of the word is ever so appropriate to describe how my life has been.

I don't know how to properly describe it. But let me try...

I've lost sight of my purpose and passions. I've gotten comfortable in settling for what is and I've stopped striving for what could be. It's seemingly too difficult to imagine achieving the life I've set out for and way too easy to get stuck in settling for what I have. But there needs to balance.

Being happy now, while never losing the will to keep following the road of possibility and dreams.

Right now, I'm standing on the road of possibility and dreams and I am looking back too much. Trying to figure out how I got here and constantly forgetting to look forward at the road that is ahead of me.

It's kinda like walking backwards down the road that lies ahead and I'm missing out on the potential and excitement of the road that lies ahead.

I had an interesting moment that really made me realize this a couple of weeks ago.

I was at the gym, pumping iron. And by pumping iron, I do mean running on the treadmill while watching GIRLS on my IPad. After I finished my workout and my episode, I went back to the locker room and stripped down to a towel to prepare for my ever so coveted time in the sauna.

Now time for real talk. The women who frequent the gym and more specifically, use the suana, get butt ass naked. We're talking about women just walking around naked, drying their hair with their tits to the wind, having deep conversations with only towels wrapped around their wet showered hair. It's pretty much a National Geographic episode in there.

But they are so free and comfortable.

I am not.

I am that girl who wraps her towel around her fully clothed body so that I can undress without any kind of display of any part of my lady business.

But I have envied these brave naked women and wondered how they just dont care. How they know that no one cares at all that they are naked. Like, at all.

I wanted that.

So, on this particular day, I do my towel changing routine and decide to weigh myself. And as a naked woman stepped off the scale this toweled woman (me, incase your visual isn't clear) stepped on. And as I looked at the number I wondered about my towels. I wanted to stand on that scale and not have a towel on. Because these two small towels MUST weigh 10 lbs...each...right?

But I kept the towels on and headed to the sauna.

As I opened the door to the sauna I saw this girl. She was trying to exit the heat as I was on my way in and the look in her eyes was alarming.

Was she dying? Why wasn't she walking out? She's just standing there.

And before I knew it me and this girl got super close, as she promptly collapsed as I immediately dove in and caught her before she hit her head.

Oh man...I hope she's not dead.

"Ummm, okay okay...I am just gonna carry you over here. We gotta get you out of the sauna okay?"

No response. Obviously.

"Hey, hey can you hear me? Here's some water. Drink this water!"

No response. Panic.

At this moment I am holding her on the ground outside of the sauna trying to put a water bottle to her lifeless lips, when other women ran to help.

And then she woke up. She was confused. Very confused.

One would assume she was confused because she didn't know what happened or why she passed out. Which of course, is totally legitimate.

But I have a different theory.

I think she was confused because of all the naked women standing over her and why I was naked and holding her while she too was naked.

So. Much. Naked.

You see when she fell into my arms her towel also fell. But while I really wished that didnt happen, it would maybe seem insensitive to let her fall, cover her back up and then drag her out of the know?

And while I was manuevering her out of the sauna, you bet your bare ass my towels didn't stay put either. But while I really wished that didn't happen, it would maybe seem insestive to push her off of me and cover back know?

Like I said, she had all the reason in the world to be the most confused person in the building.

But she was gracious. She thanked me profusely and walked off a little embarassed. And I stood there.


And I didn't care. The others didn't so why should I?

I went back to the scale. I weighed myself with no towels. I got off the scale. Picked up my towels. Went back to the sauna. Layed my towels down on the bench and sat my naked ass down and I felt accomplished.

I did it. I became the naked locker room woman that I always wanted to be.

I was forced into something I strangely wanted but never had the courage to do on my own.

While there was a definite victory in this, there was also a definite realization.

That being, I find myself always passionate about who I want to be and what I want to do but I am in constant need to be forced into it.

I often times lack the courage to really commit. And I get stuck in the middle of the road, looking back and not moving forward. But for the first time in a long time, I think I am ready.

I am ready to risk it all for all of the things and people I love. I am ready to risk failure. I am ready to take a risk for positive change. I am ready to risk not being liked. I am ready to risk opening up about who I am and what makes me...well me.

It's time and BY GOD, I am ready.

(Editors Note: My towels didn't weigh 10lbs. That was just my thighs, unfortunately.)