Seasons of Change

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The end of the summer is always the saddest time of year for me. I think of those Countrytime Lemonade commercials with the somber voice-over talking about the final days of the season....how depressing. But what can you do, ya know...it's ending whether you like it or not. This past Labor Day Weekend, I spent less time thining about how sad it was that summer was ending and more time using every waking moment to celebrate those final moments. I spent the weekend with some of my very favorite people...friends and family....oh and food., lots of food.

There's already an autumn chill in the air and summer is unmistakably on its way out. I've held on to every last ray of summer sunshine I can, but the season is changing and with it...as does my life. As I put away my bathing suits, sundresses, and flip flops, I prepare for the coming months of jeans, sweaters, and Timberlands. I'm also packing up my self-doubt, reservations, and fears and slipping into a new wardrobe of confidence, fierceness, and courage....this season's real "it" fashions. Auditions and callbacks are getting more consistent...I feel the change of the season more than I ever have. This new phase of my life is looking more and more familar and feeling more comfortable...like a favorite pair of jeans. Bring it on, fall...I'm ready!

Epic Failure Sometimes Equates to Epic Success

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"A person who never made a mistake never tried anything new." - Albert Einstein

Good old Albert. He wasn't kidding! As you may or may not know, last night I went on my first legitimate audition for an off Broadway show. I had less than 2 days to find a monologue, memorize it, and get ready for the audition. I've never had to recite a monologue before so this was all a little overwhelming. I ended up finding an appropriate one about this girl who loves a guy who gave her the bare minimum in return...sound familiar?

I practiced the monologue over and over again. I wrote it out. I typed it out. I recorded it on my phone and played it on repeat. I did everything I could with the little time I had to memorize it. But I guess my nerves got the best of me because it just didn't seem to stick. I remembered most of it, but I would get stuck on certain parts and just lose it. I figured it would click once I got up for the audition...I generally work best under pressure....lots of it.

I got off the train and ran through Times Square. The MTA was full of abnormal amounts of train traffic and a police investigation literally de-railed my commute into Manhattan. I got into the city a few minutes after the audition was scheduled to begin...I pride myself on being punctual, unfashionably early even, so I was already pretty frazzled.

I arrived at the Times Square Arts Center and took the elevator up to the 6th floor. The doors opened and people were sprawled all over the place...leaned against the wall and sitting on the floor with their resumes and headshots in hand. I took a second and scanned the room until I spotted the registration table. I walked up to the table, sweat beads on my face and sweat dripping down my back. The girl at the table gave me a form to fill out regarding availability and had me sign in. I took the form and found my rightful place on the floor. I was happy to have a moment to try to stop sweating and go over my monologue a few more times.

A few minutes later, another girl stood up and announced that they were at maximum capacity and that everyone needed to disperse in various locations while they waited for their audition. I made it to my feet and walked into the stairwell. I found a comfortable step and began reviewing the monologue again. I was still slipping up on certain parts...mainly in the beginning...which is obviously not an optimal point to be messing up. Again, I thought to myself that I handle pressure well...it'll come together when it needs to.

I walked back into the main lobby and took a seat on the floor by 2 younger girls who appeared to be college students based on their conversation. They seemed pretty nonchalant about the audition. They were having a casual conversation about this and that...and then one of them broke out into a Queen song, "Don't Stop Me Now." I tried to read through my monologue during all of this...it wasn't very effective. I looked over at them and thanked them for getting the song stuck in my head and sang part of the song out loud....thinking how easy it is for me to memorize a song's lyrics. We all started to giggle...and then they started calling names for the next group to audition. The 2 girls were called...as I watched them leave, I heard my name get called. I got all my stuff together and made my way into the room where auditions were being held.

I walked into the room and took the last seat available. Seconds after I sat down, my name was called. I was first, FIRST! My heart dropped as I stood up. Those nerves that usually help push me through deadlines and come through in the clutch were nowhere to be found...they were just regular old nerves...that had taken over the lines of the monologue that I thought I would remember. I spoke the first couple lines of the monologue and my mind went blank. I improvised and just started pretending I was talking to the person I thought of when I selected the monologue. But it wasn't all that helpful...all I could think of was trying to get back to the monologue. I went silent and blubbered a few more lines. I apologized and grabbed the sheet of paper with my monologue on it. I tried to salvage what was left, but it was too late. I bombed. I sat back down and listened as the five other women proceeded to recite their monologues...with no problem.

I originally thought of not writing about this experience, but as you know (if you know me...or if you've been reading the blog), I don't have a problem sharing some of my less than glamorous experiences. In fact, it's these kind of experiences that I feel like are the best ones to share. Life is messy and things don't always go as you wish...but that's what makes life...well, life.

I left the audition smiling. I smiled the whole six flights of stairs down into the hot, city air. I walked down 43rd Street and bent the corner onto 8th Avenue...still smiling. Part of me was smiling at the mockery I had made of the monologue...if I didn't laugh, I might've cried. But honestly, the real reason I was smiling was because I had been brave enough to put myself into a situation like that. I've never auditioned for a show before...failing was a minor part of my experience...showing up was the highlight. Never be afraid to show up....you'll always wonder what could've been....and that is true failure.

Standard Text Message Rates Apply

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When relationships end, things can go in so many different directions. Many times, there is some period of absolute silence between you and your ex.....strange to think that someone you spent everyday talking to, you now never speak a word. I've almost always been the kind of person who's been able to maintain some level of friendship with exes...which has not always served me well, but that's a story for another time.

Yesterday, the guy I had been dating came over to pick up his belongings. He would've done it sooner, but I haven't been around. We haven't had a legitimate conversation in a long time...last night was no exception. He sent me a text to let me know he was outside...he couldn't be bothered to call me. I sent him one back to tell him to come get his stuff because it was too heavy to carry. He sent a one letter text back, "K."

I answered the door and we didn't even make eye contact. He had his face in his phone and was busy sending more than a one letter text to someone else. I could feel my heart drop to my stomach as I pointed to the box of his belongings. He picked up the box and asked for a pair of glasses he had left in my car. It was the longest conversation we've had in ages....it was two sentences.

As I handed him his glasses, still avoiding eye contact, it seemed as if everything went silent. I walked away hearing only my heart beat so heavily I thought he could probably hear it, too. I choked back the tears that he didn't deserve anyway. I think the tears had less to do with him than they did with the realization that I was worse off than when I started with him. I've been single for almost 3 years...in that time, I've done a lot of dating, soul searching, and rebuilding. In such a short amount of time of dating him, I feel like he made me second-guess 3 years of becoming the person I am today...like I was somehow not worthy of the love he promised...the kind of love I had waited 3 years to find. I found myself back at square one...only even more skeptical that I'll ever find that kind of love.

I know that time will heal my wounds...it honestly already has. And I'm thankful that our relationship was so short-lived. It was as if everything happened in fast-forward so I wouldn't waste too much time. I try to take a lesson out of every single thing that happens in my life...I guess the lesson in this situation is to not let a guy leave crap at your house. Ok, so I might still be trying to learn the lesson from this one...but I'm at least grateful to have an unlimited text message plan. Otherwise, those one word texts would just add insult to injury.

Forever Young

I've spent most of this week trying to catch up with as many old friends as possible. Since I moved to FL for about 5 1/2 years, it's been ages since I've seen most of the people that I knew growing up. I always mean it when I tell people that I want to get together, but life has its way of keeping you apart sometimes. This week I was on a mission to stay good on my word to catch up with some very dear friends...and I did just that.

One of my friends who I try to always visit is my old friend, Tim Lyons. Tim was one of my very good friends growing up. I used to walk to and from school with him and a few other neighborhood boys. Those are some of my fondest memories of Tim...mainly because I don't have the privilege of creating any new memories.

On March 17, 1995, Tim was walking down Middle Road in East Greenwich, where we grew up, and was struck by a drunk driver. The car hit him so hard that he was propelled into the woods and literally out of his shoes. The driver of the car claimed he thought he had hit an animal and went home to call his attorney...I don't know how many people that think they hit animals go home and seek legal counsel about it. I can remember the morning I found out about Tim vividly. He was the first friend of mine to die...the fact that he was killed made it that much more difficult to take in as a 14 year old.

The news was plastered with the story of my friend. And the months following were no easier. I spent a lot of time at Tim's house with his mother and uncle. I would also walk to the site of where Tim got hit...almost everyday. I grew up in a small town in the smallest state in the country so it didn't go unnoticed. Soon my mother received a few phone calls by people who were alarmed by my visits to him. My mother was annoyed by people's questioning of why I would do such a thing...I was mourning...the only way I knew how at such a young age. I would walk to the memorial site and his grave and sing songs to Tim. I actually had a whole set of songs that I would sing each time I visited..."Hold On" by Sarah McLachlan, "Last Goodbye" by Jeff Buckley, "Leaving on a Jet Plane" by Peter, Paul, & Mary, and "On My Own, from "Les Miserables." That year, I did the talent show at the junior high and performed "On My Own" and dedicated it to Tim...it was the first time I had performed like that in front of my classmates...and I owe the courage it took to do to Tim.

It's been 15 years since Tim's been gone. I went to his grave today to go visit with my friend. I was silent as I stood there. It wasn't that I had nothing to say or that I didn't want to talk to him, I was just trying to take it all in...all over again. All of my friends that I got to visit this week had stories of things going on in their lives...things we had missed out on with one another. I realized today that Tim will always be 15...and in many ways, that will be the version of Tim that I think of everytime I go to visit him. Though I get older and have the privilege of experiencing the joys and pains of life, my friend is forever young...something that sounds better in theory than it does in reality. I miss my friend a little more with each passing year. I realize it's another year we will not get to catch up, another year he will not get to create new memories, and despite another year, he's still 15.

We live in a time where botox and plastic surgery are fairly common place. Trying to maintain youth is an obsession within the media and in many of our personal lives. To be perfectly honest, I have my own hang ups about wrinkles and other signs of getting older. Today I realized I'm just grateful for the opportunity to live another day...and to live long enough to worry about such trivial things....we should all be so lucky. The next time you find a gray hair, just remember how many hours, days, years, laughter, tears, and memories it took for you to get there...and be thankful that you're not forever young.

3rd Wheel

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This weekend I had the pleasure of catching up with one of my very best friends and her boyfriend. We headed out to the beach and spent the day lounging by the ocean. The weather was a bit overcast, but it was nice to have a break from the sun and there was a breeze that kept it from ever getting too hot. The water was frigid at first touch, but as soon as you took that dive headfirst into a wave, you felt refreshed and the water suddenly felt comfortable. It was a beautiful day.

My phone died about 20 minutes after we got there so I was disconnected from the world for the entire day...I think that made the day even better. It was just me, the sand between my toes, the sound of waves crashing, good music, and great company. It's one of the best days I've had all summer.

As we were making our way back to their house, I was sitting in the backseat listening to music and taking in all the sights...sights that I don't usually get the privilege of seeing because I'm usually the one driving. It suddenly dawned on me...it's really fun being their 3rd wheel. I laughed out loud as I told them my revelation...and then I had to correct myself...I realized it was way better than being a 3rd wheel, I felt more like a sidecar! Good times.

We Are Family

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Many people think that family is defined by a mother, father, siblings, etc...but I'm a firm believer that family is just not that black and white...family is not built on blood alone. I, myself, am the product of a family with many shades of grey. Growing up with a mother who suffered from manic depression and a father struggling with alcoholism, my house was not always the safest place for me to be. Luckily, my life was blessed with  guardian angels here on earth who saved my life on more than one occassion and in many different ways.

I don't want to give you the impression that I grew up without my family...that would be inaccurate. My parents did the very best they could under the circumstances...and though it took me the better part of my life to realize it, they're humans...not the superheroes I once expected them to be. I just want to convey the message that I love my parents and I'm grateful for the role they played in my life...but my life would not be what it is today without the help of the rest of my family...the family that I was not born into, but who undeniably loved me and and took me in as their own.

My father worked for the phone company and used to go to get-togethers and other parties held by his co-workers. At one of these such events, my parents became friendly with another couple. This couple had 3 sons and the wife had told my mother she would be happy to babysit me and my sisters any time...she had always wanted a little girl...and though I'm sure she didn't realize it at the time...that's just what she would get.

Sometime not too shortly after that, my mother ended up taking her up on her offer to babysit. My mother was in and out of mental hospitals for the better part of my childhood. And while my mother was getting treated for her mental illness, my father was self-medicating and in and out of rehab and AA. The breaking point was when I was a little over a year old. I was running a fever and silent. My mother was having a manic episode, but managed to call this woman to get her opinion. She came over to the house immediately and convinced my mother to call my doctor. The doctor told her to bring me to the hospital and he'd meet her there. They took me to the hospital where they proceeded to give me a spinal tap. I didn't cry...I did nothing. The doctors told my family it would be a mircale if I made it through the night. I was diagnosed with spinal meningitis. Well, congratulations, you officially know a miracle...little old me.

Surviving spinal meningitis was only the beginning...the next 12 years would prove to be some of the hardest years. Despite the trying times, this family...who I was not related to...would step up to the plate time and time again defying the concept that family is defined by blood. In that time, I gained two extra parents and three brothers...a support system that I would have been lost without.

I am grateful everyday for my family...my whole family. They have all helped to shape me to be the person that I am today. They have helped me understand the true meaning of family...unconditional love and going above and beyond...even when you don't have to...when you're family, you don't question if you have to...you just do it.

Eat Pray Love

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I haven't seen the movie...or even read the book...but I get the idea. And I'm not sure if seeing the previews a million times or going through some heartbreak on a few different levels lately inspired it, but something's recently clicked and I feel the need to do just that...eat, pray, and love. I don't have the kind of funds that would allow me to travel overseas to do it, but I don't need to go so far away to take some time to myself.

I'm heading up north for a while in hopes of getting some new inspiration. I'm hoping that putting a little distance between myself and my current reality will help to open my eyes and give me some perspective. I'm going armed with some good books, a notebook, and my iPod. Sometimes the monotony of day to day life can leave you feeling a little less than inspired. It can have you feeling like Paul McCartney in "Band on the Run"..."stuck inside these four walls/ sentenced at forever." I'm breaking out of my four walls and trying a different angle at life. Pressing reset has left me needing a new approach...an approach that includes eating fresh Maine lobstah, praying and meditating on positive thoughts, and loving myself. I already feel better...and I'm just packing.