The Tree of Life (Lessons)

When I was about six I was tied to a tree on top of a hill in my old neighborhood. I was left there for at least an hour and within that hour I experienced a lot of emotions (who me?) Firstly, I was in disbelief, as I was certain that my friend who had tied me to the tree wouldn't really leave me there. And then as time ever so slowly crept by ( as it does when you are tied to trees) it became clear that I should redefine the term 'friend' and that I should start believing that my 'friend' wasn't coming back and that I was in fact experiencing what it felt like to be tied to a tree and left for the birds ( you know, like every child does...) I then went into survival mode and started to scream and violently shake the tree to break free from the rope. I probably only did this for about 2 minutes before giving up and residing that I was stuck and was going to die a slow, lonely death...and I cried. Dear lord did I cry (yeah, me.)

I remember that moment in my life so clearly. I remember how harsh the grass felt on my legs. I remember how tight the rope felt on my arms and how the tree's bark felt rubbing against my back. I remember how sad I was and how final this moment felt for me. It was the end. But what I don't remember is how I broke free. I don't remember if I finally stopped crying and realized that breaking free wasn't that hard and that I could have broken free the whole time (seeing how to this day I am known for jumping to irrational and dramatic conclusions, I almost certain this was the case for my younger self as well.) But the point is, I don't remember the victory and only remember the struggle.

Tonight I wish I remembered how I broke free.

...was that a dramatic statement?

I mean it though.

Lately I have been feeling trapped and tied tightly to something immovable and I've been struggling to break free.

Tonight as I sit on my porch and remember back on that infamous day of my youth, I am trying to think of what I would say to that sad little girl tied to a tree.

Maybe I would tell her that I know it would be easy if I untied her but I bet she could do it herself if she took a breath and realized that the rope isn't actually all that tight but the panic and the fear of never escaping is what is making it feel like she is stuck. I would tell her to find the humor in the struggle because sometimes if you think of what is causing you distress in the most simple of ways, it actually is pretty funny. It's especially funny when you are 6 years old in a worn out red polka dotted dress with matching bows and headgear to boot. I would tell her to not sit in pain just waiting for someone to come solve her problem because no matter how bad it may seem, when it comes down to it all she needs is herself to break free. I would tell her to not take her frustrations out on the tree because if you shake the one thing that is supporting you too hard one of the branches that is so kindly giving you shade may fall, hit you and leave you exposed in the sun and that will only make the struggle more difficult. Instead use the strength it's giving you to help you break free. Finally I would tell her to be patient because sometimes overcoming takes time, it takes courage, it takes strength and most importantly it takes trust in the fact that breaking free is always possible.

Yeah...I think that's what I would say to myself then, and what I will try to remember tonight.

But if you guys see any little girls tied to trees, you should probably just untie them....

Jumbled Thoughts and Cold Panties

Well I've removed all the feathers and I am now writing to you close to a month after I promised. I think you can maybe forgive me?...'you' being the all five of you that have patiently kept up with my inconsistent thoughts and empty promises.

Any poop... I won't spend paragraphs and time trying to catch you up on the happenings of my life...or maybe I will as I am not sure what direction I will be taking this entry. That, and I know how all of you are deeply wondering about my life's current status and happenings...

No?

Maybe?

No.

I was at a bar the other night and there was a girl who was the embodiment of wasted and she started to gush about how she has a blog that documents all of her sexual exploits and mishaps and that we should all read it...and then she said she had to go home and put her panties in her freezer...

It was much like looking into a fun house mirror at a carnival...when you are feeling fat and insecure...

And yet, here we are.

I've been resisting the urge to buy a plane, bus or train ticket all weekend. A plane ticket to Thailand, a bus ticket to Maine and a train ticket to Boston. I don't really know the rhyme or reason as to why the urge to travel is so strong or why these three places are on my radar but it is and they are. Perhaps I'm craving a less exciting and more self deprecating version of Eat, Pray, Love entitled...Escape, Hibernate, Drink. But I think it's mostly because I am starting to really realize that I am in charge of my life and my choices and I am craving the chance to make more choices and take as many unexpected turns as I possibly can, just to test the waters of life a bit more. I am also craving adventure.

I've recently come to realize that I let too many of my choices be influenced by other people's opinions. Case in point, when I joined OKCupid. You know...the free online dating website. My instincts told me that I wouldn't like it but I joined anyway. After countless messages from creepy men about my boobs and an exhausting amount of messages consisting of just 'hey' I found my instincts to be right on the money. But I did meet one person who captured my attention by asking me which Greek God I would want to cook me meatloaf and which muppet I would want to run a real estate firm with and while I am sure these are questions he asks all the ladies, I thought I would give him a chance and get some coffee with him since he asked.

Now, I hadn't been on a proper date in a while and I have absolutely never been on a blind Internet date before so I was quite nervous and uncomfortable. We decided to meet up at a small coffee shop in the Lower East Side. So I got there and no sign of my Greek Muppet Man. At first I thought I would give him the benefit of the doubt since A) it was early and B) he picked the most inconvenient spot for a person who lives in Queens and a person who lives in Washington Heights to meet up at. But the Lower East Side makes everyone look so much cooler in the way that dimly lit rooms make everyone look more attractive...so I understood, but once the 45 minutes late bell rang I was sent into the classic blind date panic. You know, the one where you are certain he stepped in, saw me, threw up a little in his mouth and quietly escaped unnoticed...maybe you don't know that panic...good for you.

Needless to say I left the Lower East Side that morning highly caffeinated and deeply rejected. Not a winning combination, if you were wondering.

The Greek Muppet Man texted me 2 hours later apologizing profusely because apparently he slept through his alarm while I was waiting for him in the coffee shop imagining how my life will be when I have 46 cats and have a wardrobe consisting solely of snuggies and adult diapers. I was pretty annoyed but mostly relieved, as you can imagine. He left me 3 voice messages apologizing and asking for another chance. My instincts told me to tell him to go jump off the nearest bridge but I was going against my instincts with this whole online dating experience already why should I start listening to them now?

So we met up later in the week for breakfast. The safest date meal if ever I heard...

And it turned out he was lovely. He held a conversation well...kept up with my sarcasm and even made me laugh...So I was happy that I took a risk and gave someone a chance...until he started to 'crazy girl' text me an hour after we parted ways and with each text he slowly chipped any interest I had in him away and slowly but surely that was the end of The Muppet Man and me.

And after another month of obscene and bleak messages from strangers I deleted my OKCupid account. Whether or not I gave Muppet Man or the site a fair chance doesn't matter because I wanted out.

So I don't like online dating and I have intimacy and commitment issues...slap my ass and call me an American.

I realize that I don't go about things in a typical fashion. I am aware that I need to take more risks in the romantic field but I want spontaneity, I want surprise. I don't want to be matched with someone on a computer's terms but on my own terms. And of course that's not to say I don't believe online dating is great for those whom it works for but I am not among those folks.

I don't want to do things because I feel like its what I should do. I lack certain experiences (read: old virgin) but instead of being so utterly confused and ashamed of it and worried that my images of life with cats, snuggies and adult diapers are rapidly becoming a reality, I need to embrace it as simply a part of who I am, and that yes, it makes me a little weird and it makes people view me a little differently and it may make them judge me but that's not my problem because you are who you are, you make the choices you make and you are in control of your own adventure.

My adventure.

It may be strange but it's mine.

So here is to making your own way through life. Here's to just not giving a flying fuck whether or not people think your way through life isn't right or that you're doing something wrong because you're doing something different than them.

I'm an old virgin. I have intimacy issues. I wear too many patterns at once. I am afraid of milk. I am a weird girl with lots of feelings and I love who I am and I am learning to be okay with other people not loving who I am....because it doesn't matter..at all.

Anyways I have to go plan a some trips and put my panties in the freezer. Catch ya later.

Promises and Moons.

Okkkkaaayyy guys.

I am feeling alot of things right now and my main New Years Resolution was to keep up with my blog much more and I have some epic online dating stories in the works...so hang tight.

But I lost my cell phone last night which was the straw that broke this old camel's emotional back so I went back to my journal before bed and I found this piece about the moon that I want to share again. I promise a new post in 2 days. If I don't post you can tar and feather me.



to keep from waning

In NYC, the moon is a hard thing to find. I see a skyline that is infamously beautiful, bridges sparkling, and a few stars glimmering in the black sky.

In Texas, the moon is huge. It sits in the sky with confidence, aplomb and a regal distinction and sometimes it looks like it is so big that you can stick your hand out and have it rest in the palm of your hand.

The moon is not something I've given much thought to at all, before recently. It's always just been...well you know...there.

I've thought it pretty. I've thought it grand but I've never really thought ABOUT it.But now I can't stop thinking about it.

The moon is powerful, distant but not untouchable. It's mysterious. Sometimes it's dark and sometimes it's bright. The moon holds a lot of romance. The thought that at any given moment during the long night that someone is looking at the moon and wondering who else is looking at it too is kind of special to me. Whether or not someone is looking at it to find answers or simply just looking at it and feeling a little less alone at night.

She changes the tides, she lights the sky, she marks time and she is one of a kind.

Tonight...I want to be the moon.I want to be in as many places as I can be at the same time. I want to be beautiful. I want to be alone but to always be in orbit with the things that keep me alive. I want to be discovered.

I want to be the moon. ...if only for tonight.

Back on the Chain Gang.

I don't think there is any question that New York is a strange place, full of strange people and strange happenings. I also don't think there is any question that this city is full of surprises and magic. Sometimes the surprises will come swooping in when you least expect it and often times you endure the daily grind just patiently waiting, hoping and knowing that there is magic in this place waiting for you to discover it and be open to it.

Magic. Surprise. Patience.

I like all of those words very much.

I was sitting on the 'A' train a couple of nights ago, listening to my music and getting lost in my own thought bubbles, completely unaware of those around me. Then this man sat down next to me. He ripped me right out of my own thoughts and brought me back to Earth...and by Earth I mean the 'A' train (if that counts.) The first thing I noticed was his cologne and while it was rather strong and a bit overwhelming I really liked it (maybe because I really like men's cologne or I am simply used to people sitting next to me on public transit and smelling like dirty diapers and goat cheese... it's a coin toss, really.) After I got over how good he smelled the strangest thing happened...I suddenly felt so connected to this stranger. Like somehow he and I were friends. There was this level of comfort that you so rarely feel sitting by strangers on public transit in New York.

He and I were very different though. He was quite a large man, covered in tattoos of Buddah and flowers, wearing a news cap and a t-shirt and jeans. I was an average size girl, with a small tattoo of a mouse hole and a Shakespearean quote, wearing green tights, a multicolored dress and cowboy boots but I felt like I knew him and we were the same.

We were both headed downtown. We were both in the same train car. We shared the same bench. We were both traveling alone. And we were both living our lives in that 15 minutes...together.

I didn't want to know his name. I didn't want for us to be anything but passing strangers on the 'A' train, going to where we were going but anonymously together.

I was intoxicated by this encounter for a good while after.

The next day I was overcome by technological woes and the overwhelming angst that comes with being unemployed and confused in New York. I scheduled an appointment at the Mac Store to solve the tech woes, popped my computer in my bag and sat on the train into the city feeling so disconnected to everything around me. I felt so outside myself. A feeling of loneliness welled up inside of me until it let itself out in the most embarrassing way.

I full on ugly girl cried at the Genius Bar at the Mac Store. It was uncomfortable for the genius, for the other customers and myself. The guy helping me was rather confused as he had just informed me that my computer was fine and that all I needed was a new battery. And I insisted it wasn't the battery that was making me cry, it was this empty feeling inside of me that I just didn't know what to do with. (Note: I didn't tell him I felt empty inside. Full on crying at the store maxed out my crazy card for the day, so I just told him I was really tired...stop judging me.) After I emotionally assaulted him I put my computer back in my bag, went outside and composed myself. I took a deep breath, saw the movie theater across the street, went inside and did what any emotional unstable female would do; I bought a ticket to the sappiest, saddest movie in the building. I sat down by myself, prepared my tear ducts for another flood (but this time they'd be flooding for some fictional character's problems and not my own, whew) when a quiet woman came and sat next to me. She smiled at me and I at her. And then all the sudden there was that feeling again. Like we were friends who both had a rough day and needed to see Anne Hathaway be the sad girl for once. Towards the end of the movie I found myself weeping quietly (hard to believe, right?) and I heard my stranger friend sniffling as well.

There we were, two strangers who don't know anything about each other, sharing a movie and some tears together. We were connected in that moment.


We are all individuals. The world is seen as a different place by each and every set of eyes. We all make our journey through life as separate entities. But we all have these special little moments that act as little communal links in a chain to connect ourselves to one another. And we knowingly and often times unknowingly help each other reconnect and bridge a gap of separation. Sometimes the chain disconnects and we have to find different links to make it connect again and sometimes the only way to reconnect is through the unexpected...and in the unexpected encounters there lies magic and there lies surprise, if you are patient.

I know this to be true.


...I should change my blog name to 'sexless and LOVES metaphors.' Am I right or am I RIGHT?

Coo Coo Cachoo

There is a hint coldness in the air. I like it. It means change, and generally I am a little apprehensive of change but after such a turbulent summer, I welcome change with arms wide open.

I feel like this blog is going to be about words that begin with 'ch.' Don't you hate when people announce what their blog is going to be about? But I just did...so here we are.

changechoicechangeychoiceschoosingtochange.

A couple of weeks ago I was in dire need of a change. A change of scenery. A change of mentality. A change of pace. So I went to Chicago to visit my best friend. If you don't know already, Chicago is a pretty rad city full of rocking people and nice summer weather. I spent a week there. I recharged my batteries and I came back to New York with a skip in my step and a pocket full of new found motivation. Something changed. New York was no longer a place where I was confronted with ample amounts of 'no' but the place I chose to make my life, so by God I was ready to make it work.

Then after some maybes followed by even more no's...I found myself choosing to be dejected and beat down again.

It's only been two weeks since I returned. Quick turn around eh?

For some reason I keep finding myself choosing to give into no and letting myself become the a victim. Why do we do that? Why do we let the doors slam in our faces and then come up with a thousand reasons as to why it's our fault the doors keep slamming on us? Or is that just me?

I am not talented enough.

I am not pretty enough.

I am not what they are looking for.

I am a walking poster child for bad luck.

I am not a person, whom things work out for.

Recently I have made a choice to think those series of thoughts and I've allowed them to pollute my head and discourage me from living the life I have set out to lead.

The only explanation I can seem to find for these choice thoughts of mine (see what I did there?) is fear. Fear of failing. Fear of letting my dreams slip from my grasp. Fear of disappointing my family. Fear of the unknown.

Choosing fear is exhausting...not to mention depressing.

There was a hurricane this past weekend. The weather people said it was going to tear NYC to pieces, leaving us without power, without water for weeks. So out of fear of not being able to bathe, not being able to flush my toilet or brush my teeth or eat, I went to the store and stocked up, then stayed in the apartment for hours when finally me and two of my best friends decided to go outside and enjoy the hurricane, instead of letting it suck the life out of our weekend we ran right into the storm. We played in the empty streets with the rain falling hard. We had epic puddle wars (none of us contracted the plague, calm down) and we ran to a bridge and looked at this epic city glisten in the rain. That moment has secured a spot on one of my all time favorite New York moments. It was liberating and I laughed so hard my sides hurt and I was happy.

With that said, I need to keep reminding myself to choose to brave the storm. I need to remember that although the rain will fall hard and and the wind may be cold, that I will get used to it and although the puddles I step in may be deep, I can choose to splash around in them and laugh instead of struggle in them and drown. And most importantly I need to remember that I have amazing people all around me, braving the same storm and together, we can make the best of it.

Choosing to see the fearful as an opportunity to fill my life with unforgettable moments instead of reasons to fall down seems like a much better option, don't you think?

The Battle of the Bulge

Okay so it's been a week and I am already updating. Also, it has only been a week and I completely forgot my password again. So when I was trying to decide if my memory lapse last week was because it had been a while since I logged in or if it was old age memory problems...well I assume you see where I am going with this...

Don't worry I didn't write it down this time and you can expect a similar opening to the next blog I'm sure.

Writers always say finding a start into your piece is the hardest part...not for me said the flea.

Cop out.


I was walking to the grocery store today and the weather was really pretty descent. Barely 80 degrees, sunny and just lovely. I was taking a moment on my walk to relish in the beauty of the day when I saw something that was a little off putting.

A girl jogging.

Now that's not to say that I find females who run off putting or that I am judging this girl's cardiovascular habits. I'm not. But well I have to be blunt...she was a hot mess.

Blood red. Hair stuck to her sweaty face. Armpit stains for days. Boobs poorly controlled. A heavy stride. And a look on her face that can only be described as utter and complete misery.

Okay, maybe I was judging her. But only because I saw myself within her, and it made me uncomfortable. (I bet she would use the same adjective for how I made her feel...semantics.)

Before you completely write me off as a judgemental bitch I have a perfectly sound explanation.

I used to weigh about 200lbs. I wore a size 16 and I ate my feelings. (I have alot of feelings) My weight was a HUGE issue for me growing up and it left me pretty distraught and depressed but I didn't do anything about it. I wasn't one of those people who were comfortable with who they were at any size. I wanted to change. I wanted to be healthy but no diet I went on or exercise regimen I went on could muster the kind of commitment I needed to change. So I just sat around and sulked and ate cookies, Swedish fish and watched The Biggest Loser. Nothing says weight loss more than sugary treats and watching other people run on treadmills.

Then I tried to convince myself I was happy with how I looked. That muffin tops were the new black. That when it comes to chins, less is not more. And that if you are funny, people are more forgiving of your love handles.

Fat Funny Girl, party of Colleen? Your table is now ready.

The well constructed mask I made for myself was bullet proof and insulated with biting wit and a charming smile. It even had rays of sunshine blasting off of that shit.

Little Miss Butterball of Light and Joy party of Fat Funny Girl Colleen? Your table is also ready.

I was pretty untouchable for a good long while. That mask was so damn good that it even convinced me that I was happy.

(Enter the little old lady that could: Terri Hayden)

Who is Terri Hayden? Well she is a 90 year old legend of a woman who teaches acting technique at my school, known for her brutal honesty and her inane psychic powers. Well loved and respected and dare I say feared.

The first time I worked for her went a little something like this:

(Colleen completes the acting exercise. Sits in a chair in front of Terri and her class and waits to begin the dialogue of what Terri just observed. A long pause about 30 seconds in length, or for some 15 years in length.)

Terri: Are you sad?
Colleen: No. Not at all.
(Terri stares at Colleen as if Colleen just said she was Mother Teresa)
Terri: Is anyone else in your family overweight like you?
(Colleen shit her pants and loses her breath)
Colleen: (mumbling) No, they are all in good shape.
Terri: Hello?
Colleen: (speaking more clearly and loudly) NO THEY ARE ALL THIN.
Terry: Do you have any brothers or sisters?
(Colleen stares blankly)
Colleen: Yes, one older sister.
Terri: She doesn't have weight problems like you?
(Colleen shits her pants again and holds back tears)
Colleen: No, she has a really fast metabolism. Wish I inherited that too.
Terri: I wish that too.

(End scene)

Needless to say, I went home and cried after convincing everyone in my class that I was fine and that what she said didn't bother me and then I called a friend and did what every other insecure mess would do in this situation, I talked shit about her and my gracious friend told me that she is crazy and that I don't have a weight problem. Ahhhh sweet comfort and delusions of grandoir.

And then for the next year of my training...every single time I got up to work she would only comment on my weight.

"You remind me of Judy Holiday. She had a weight problem too...and it eventually killed her."

"What do you eat?"

"You used to be a runner?!?!"

I eventually refused to get up in her class. There was only so much I could take and I am pretty sure for every comment she made I gained 5 lbs of shame.

Then finally the last time I worked for her in my first year of training she started into me again when a classmate raised his hand and stuck up for me (said classmate is now holds title of best friend. true story). He asked her why I have to change the way I look for her to think that I was an effective actor. She gazed at me in a very calming and loving way and a sweet smile crept over her face and then she so simply said:

"She's good. But she's not good to herself."


(Cue tears followed by a quintessential self discovery moment)

Terri had been working on me all year. Chipping away at my mask the only way she knew would work, which was tough love. She presented me with my biggest fear...to be called out on my crippling insecurity in front of my colleagues. She beat me down, so I could build myself back up (why yes, I just used that cliche.)

She changed my life. I lost lots of pounds since then and I am down 5 dress sizes. Jenny Craig has NOTHING on the 'tricky' and highly appreciated ways of Terri Hayden.

(In elementary school I had to go to the counselor to deal with my fear of people throwing up on me and everyday she had me draw pictures of people in different situations throwing up on me and then rip them up and throw them in the the trash. She CLEARLY should have just thrown up on me instead. Would have saved a lot of time...and paper.)

So tomorrow morning...I am getting up early. I am putting my running shoes on and I am going to be that girl I saw today. Red faced. Sweaty. Heavy stride. A look of misery...but boobs MUCH more controlled. I've feared running for too long now. Face them fears ya'll.

Hotmess O'Connor...running to a borough near you.

Floating Floaters.

I just spent 15 minutes trying to remember the password to this blog. I suppose that means that it's been awhile since last I logged in. That or my old age is taking it's toll on my memory. Perhaps both? Needless to say I remembered it and here we are. I meant to blog exactly one month ago because exactly one month ago was the one year anniversary Sexless in the Boroughs. But I forgot. So let me raise a glass to one year of being out of the old virgin closet and my half assed upkeep of the blog! Here's to you! Or me? Us? It doesn't matter, I'm not actually raising a glass, I'm just drinking Diet Dr. Pepper, in solitude, on a Friday night. Did I mention I am an old virgin?

Well I am...

Contain your shock.

Time flies though. Does it not? A year ago things were pretty different. I'm no longer a student and I no longer feel in control of my life. People have been calling this period of life my 'transition' phase, and I am here to tell you, I don't transition gracefully...at all.

This transition from student to 'real' person is kind of terrifying. Instead of easing myself into it, I've jumped right into the pool of the non-student world...except I forgot how to swim. And now that it's not everything I dreamed it would be I am desperately trying to swim to the ladder to pull myself back to safety...except I can't find the ladder. But the good news is, is that the people I love are throwing me floatation devices and kind thoughts and words, that are making it easier for me to tread water.

All that said, it's hard treading water when all you want to do is go back to the kiddy pool. Because you have to be a complete idiot to drown in a kiddy pool.

Are you tired of the pool metaphor yet?

But speaking of complete idiot...I accidentally dyed my hair black. I look jaded and angrier. It's really pleasant. Want to date me?

Before you say no let me explain...

If you know me, or if you've kept up with my past blog entries you will remember that I've chosen to be an actor, which qualifies me to be moderately to mildly and some days severely insane. For example, I've been out of school for two months and within those two months I've spent an ungodly amount of my time looking for a waitress job (a job that I would rather have my eyeballs spooned out of my head than do) and a multitude of auditions. I've auditioned to be an animated donut and some days I sit in line from 5am-3pm to not even be seen for an audition and I've been so poor that some days all I will eat is a can of soup, if that. And despite all of this, I'm still 100% sure it's all worth it and that it will all work out in a storybook kind of way.

Like I said...insane.

But I really do believe it will work out.

Why you say?

Well because if I needed a reason to give up, to throw in the proverbial towel, to wave my white flag and surrender the other day would have completely provided every reason to do so.

I was going out for an EPA audition. The way EPAs work is like this.

-If you are a member of the union you get a set time to audition. You show up. You audition.

-If you are a candidate for the union you show up early and get put on the candidate list and if they have room for you they see you. (which I am but when I got mugged my card was in the wallet that was stolen and the process of getting validated again has been stupid hard)

-If you are none of the above you show up and pray to god that there will be room for you after all the union members and all the candidates have been seen. (I fall into this category without my EMC card, DAMN YOU MUGGER!)

Got it? Yeah you're right it's the crappiest of crap shoots.


ANNNNYWAY...

To ensure that I get high on the list I seat myself outside of the building where the auditions take place at 5am. Certain I would be the first in line you can imagine my surprise when I see an old man already camped outside of the building. Due to him being completely passed out asleep and pretty disheveled. I debated whether or not he was homeless but his 'Les Mis' tote settled the debate. So I sat next to him. He growled good morning to me. Pleasant. So there I am, sitting on the street with this strange old man and marveling at my life. The line starts to get longer as 8 am (when the actual building opens) approaches. Around 7 am Mr. Old McLesMislover starts making some pretty disturbing grunting noises. Just when I was about to ask him if he was having a heart attack, my nostrils became infected with a smell that could be deemed as... well I mean...how do I? He um...I'll just come out and say it. The man had to of pooped his pants. That or something unnatural happened within him. I just don't know. The point is I sat for an hour tolerating the smell this old man unleashed.

...if I am ever that old and in line on the streets of NYC and pooping my pants before my auditions, please shoot me. Please.

So the building opens and we are let in. Mr. Old McPooper then flashes his Equity card and is the first one seen that day (of course he is) and since he is Equity he can use the bathrooms in the building (maybe he forgot that?) but us non-equity folk must go to the McDonalds if we want to take the chance of leaving the auditions and missing our opportunity. So I wait...and wait...and wait until 3pm only to be sent home after being told all morning that I will more than likely be seen.

Hungry. Tired. Defeat.

Now, I've been on EPAs before but they didn't hurt as badly as this one. And I really think the fact that my old fecal friend got seen and I didn't is what hurt the most.

So naturally, after I went to McDonalds to pee, I went to Duane Reade and I bought a box of hair dye. Nothing gives you the sense of control over your life quite like a box of hair dye. I immediately went home coated my hair with the dye, washed it out and BAM! Black as the night. It was supposed to be dark brown. Black and brown...the theme of my day perhaps.

I straight up looked like a black widow with my black hair and red scalp. But I lack the conviction of a black widow and I did not go out and lure men into my web, have my way with them and then kill them...if only that cute British guy at the audition who asked for my phone number had called...has anyone seen my 'regret' list??


So right now is a time of paying my dues to the acting gods and learning how to transition into what is my ever so interesting life.

With that said, I will be modifying this blog a bit to chronicle my struggles and triumphs in all aspects of life and while being sexless is one aspect I need an outlet for my non-virgin related fiascoes. I promise I will try to keep the bodily functions of my fellow human stories to a minimum...mostly because I hope that it won't be a common theme in my day to day life. God willing.

I was thinking about changing the name of the blog to 'Eat, Cry, Mope' but I am going to think on it a little while longer, after all patience is a virtue...right? Totally.