Theft, Flicks and Opportunities

“I can’t stand to fly. I’m not that naïve. I’m just out to find the better part of me. I’m more than a bird. I’m more than a plane. I’m more than some pretty face beside a train and it’s not easy to be me.”

Superman - by Five for Fighting. I find that actually prefer the Boyce Avenue cover most of all. It just happened to come on Pandora when I opened up my laptop. I left it there. Screen burning bright, glowing back at me. Music ringing through my ears, echoing through the canals to my mind.

There are a whirlwind of thoughts taking over me tonight. There are a few reasons for this…

I found out today that someone stole my debit card. They spent almost $600 in just a few days. All I have to say is I really hope they needed it. Mind you they spent it all on gasoline, and stayed in the same city so I doubt it was an urgent emergency to get them across eleven states to their family (just a guess), but I’ve never understood stealing. My stepsister did it all the time when we were younger. She would find something she wanted in a store, pick it up, and walk out. I could never fathom it, considering our parents raised us to believe that we didn’t need anything we couldn’t afford. We made do with what we had, or we found a way around it. I spent my entire lunch break on the phone with Bank of America, I’m thankful that I brought a Campbells Soup On the Go to work.

It really put me in a negative mood. I couldn’t stop bouncing back and forth between anger and devastation. Of course the bank is refunding my money, and it will all be dealt with accordingly, but still. I can’t help but wonder who this person is that results in taking from others. So nonchalantly lifting funds from my account to supply their own. I really hope that they find what they’re looking for, but something tells me it won’t be at the bottom of my savings.

Moving forward past my untimely experience with money thieving petrol purchasers, I went to see Zero Dark Thirty tonight. I’m going to tread lightly on this subject, because I know that this film has been a sensitive matter. I won’t say that I loved the film, because the story clearly isn’t one to “love”. I will say, however that Katheryn Bigelow did an amazing job directing, and that Jessica Chastain was brilliant in the roll of Maya. I would absolutely watch the film again. I think that’s it’s important for us (Americans) to face this part of our history, but also see the “behind the scenes” of what was the “Bin Laden Pursuit”.

In the first few minutes of the film, it opens with audio clips of victims from 9/11. One very brief comment is from a young man to his mother. “Hey Mom. I’m sure you heard about the plane hitting tower one. I’m safe in tower two.”  As I heard it, I became sick. It’s disturbing how many people thought exactly as he did. Those people thought that they were safe… They thought it was over.

As the second tower fell, so did our hearts.

The film moves forward with a very grotesque torture scene with a detainee captured from the Saudi Group. This scene was upsetting for me. I kept having to remind myself that 3,000 American just died at the hands of terrorists. Seeing anyone tortured is difficult, and internally I couldn’t decide if it was justifiable. I’m fully aware that Americans have been captured before, and suffered the same treatment. This cruel world often abides by an eye for an eye in many situations. This scene reveals the captivating Jessica Chastain. She makes it very clear in the beginning that being there isn’t her choice.

As the film progresses, you begin to see her characters obsession with the hunt of Bin Laden. She states at least twice in the film that she wants to kill him. It is unimaginable to me that some peoples “jobs” are to take the lives of other human beings. At the same time, I respect and support the defense that our military provides us. This internal struggle stuck with me for the entire film.

I won’t spoil the ending, because I hope that each and every one of you will watch it. Not necessarily as a “feel good” enjoyable film, but as an important portrayal of the lives lost, and affected by this tragedy. I will say that the ending leaves a rather open ended question. I would love to know what all of you think about it.

On a much lighter note… I landed a pretty awesome gig this weekend as a Production Assistant. I can’t say where yet, but Monday’s post should be pretty awesome. Either that or terrifyingly horrific.

For those of you who don’t know what exactly I do, I’m transitioning into P.A work for film or television. A P.A or Production Assistant is basically someone on set who assistants the crew in any and every task that they might need dealt with. I will be doing everything from grabbing coffee, to holding documents, running errands, ordering lunch, keeping people outside of the production away from the set, assisting the talent (cast), etc… This particular job is for a very popular reality TV show…

I’ll let you know more after the fact.

Remember me…

Tennessee

Change

I suppose time has played into my thoughts rather often lately. It seems I don’t have enough of it. There’s always more I want to do. More I want to say. More I need to see. More. More. More.

I almost feel selfish in saying it. How many times do I find myself in a “lucky” situation? More often than not I’d say. Then again is it ever really luck, or more along the lines of fate, or destiny? See, I think that good things happen to those who pursue them. They happen to people who put out good into the world. I believe in the saying “treat others the way that you want to be treated.” I guess the point is… I believe.

The New Year has come and gone. Many people have already forgotten their “New Years Resolutions”. I can’t help but wonder why we need a day to inspire change? Why can we not all just see where our flaws lie, and work on them? We spend the largest portion of our adolescent lives in school, with a structured environment formulated to encourage growth and change. As adults, we seem to forget that formula and let our improvement go AWOL.

Just like school, hobbies, or anything else, we need to progress. As people, it is vital for us to move forward. We have years here that we could spend constantly improving. These are years that some people never get the chance to use. To deny the natural process is to waste your life. It’s a slap in the face of humanity, and of your-self.

The longer I’m here… the closer I come to understanding what it is that I need to do out here. There is a change coming. I can feel it. This change, however is no different from the one five months ago when I relocated. It’s no different than the six months I spent as an admissions counselor in Missouri.  We’re always changing. Life is ALWAYS changing. The best favor you can do yourself is to roll with the punches. Change, Grow. Learn. Love. Hope. Try. Be.

I can’t stress enough how much happier you will be if you take on a positive attitude, and give life everything you’ve got. Not because of what it will give you back, but because there’s no reason not to. Why wouldn’t you want to be the best you can be? Why wouldn’t you want to achieve the greatness that was destined to you? Anything less is simply being lazy.

So here I go. I’m embracing the change. Making the improvements. Living my life.

Remember me,

Tennessee

Time

Lengthy is the sound of forever,

But that’s the time in which I have to fill.

Time to walk. Time to cry.

Time to love. Time to lie.

There’s time to spare, but I’ve got no time.

No time to wait. No time to be.

No time to chase. No time to see.

I’ve got no time to give away.

I’m gone tomorrow, but here today.

Today I’ll live upon her lips.

I’ll close my eyes for every kiss.

Waiting for the time to pass.

for things to change, for that big mess.

Slowly.

Slowing.

Down.

Time… a tragic thing.

See time is what we’ve done to ourselves.

It’s simply a measurement of lost chances.

A way to calculate the mistakes we made, or the things we forgot.

“Remember the time? That time when? Do we have time to?”

Time is what was, or what will be.

When you’re standing in a moment. Good or bad.

You don’t think of time. You don’t see the future, or remember the past.

You simply cling to the moment you are in,

Hoping for a better day.

If the moment is good… You wish for one as wonderful.

If it’s bad, you wish for one better.

But you only wish long after the moment has passed.

For in that moment, you are consumed.

And time… time doesn’t exist.

Time is a burden. It’s constricting and selfish.

Time does not care that you are content.

It doesn’t care that you are broken, or need a break.

Time cares not that a minute isn’t enough.

Time forgets how forever feels.

Time is a waste… but a waste of what?

More time? 

Sick and Tired

Sick days are awful.  You have free time, but no energy to do anything.  You want to sleep all day, and cry the moments you’re awake. Nausea, a headache, and general discomfort all consume you. I’ll be honest… on sick days there is nothing I want more than a bowl of soup, a Disney movie, and my mother.

Instead what I have right now is a cup of hot tea, a warm blanket, and my girlfriend sitting on the edge of the bed with her guitar. She’s picking away at tonight’s set list. She has a different show every week or so. On February 6^th she will be performing at the House of Blues on Sunset Blvd. If you’re in the L.A area you should come out and say hello! Her name is Saxon… Saxon James.  (I said it that way for effect).

It’s nice having her around when I don’t feel well. Ok. That came out wrong. It’s nice having her around all of the time, but particularly when I’m sick. No one likes being alone then.

Anyway. The point is, I feel horrible today but the relationship is going well. Clearly. I promise. I’ll talk about something else eventually.

Let’s begin now:

This week has been hectic. I’m in the part of my internship now where I’ve begun interviewing for a permanent job. Yes, sometime during the next month (hopefully) I will begin my adult journey into the great unknown. This internship has helped mold and guide me. It’s helped me realize more clearly what I want. I want to start out as a production assistant somewhere. Work on my own writing on the side.

Eventually I’ll move up in the industry. One day I’ll be a producer, and can produce my own content. I sat in on a writers panel last night. One of the writers was from Revenge, and another from the upcoming show “20 Somethings”. They were so young. 23 and 26. It makes me feel like I am a little bit behind. I mean I know that I’m not, but still. I can’t help but think “Longer. Faster. Stronger.” Should I apply younger to that as well?

I mean is there really a time in which things HAVE to be done? I understand physical limitations. I know that as a young child you’re not developed enough to achieve anything, and as a senior you’re…. too developed. But I believe that as long as you lie between 18 and 75, you’re good to go. I don’t need to rush into anything. I have the rest of my life to live.

Here I am babbling on about life, and I’m on the verge of death. Ok. That’s nowhere close to being true, but I really hate having a stuffy nose.

I struggle now to find the words. I feel like that’s happened a lot lately. Life catches up to you, and all of a sudden the dynamic changes. Where before all I did was write, now I struggle to find time. When I find the time, I struggle to find the words.

I feel like lately I haven’t inspired anyone. Not even myself. That’s really difficult for me. I don’t know who I am. What I’m doing… I don’t know anything when I’m not thinking, helping, loving. I suppose that’s a good problem to have.

Lately I’ve been floundering. I can feel the stress and anxiety building. I have to find a better way to cope. I push and push. I give 110 % and then wake up one day exhausted and mentally drained. I suppose it’s true you know? You have to help yourself before you can turn to help anyone else.

I’m not sure what would help right now. I don’t think I need a break necessarily. I just spent two and a half weeks in Tennessee. The trouble with that though, is that although I wasn’t at work, there was constantly something going on. No. It’s not a break that I need.

It’s inspiration.

I need to feel inspired. I want to stand at the top of the tallest mountain. I want to hold hands with a small child. I want to stand in the cold ocean up to my waist and wait for the chills to come. I want to play the sound of her voice over and over in my mind, and formulate my thoughts with her beautiful British accent. I want to hold something close to my heart. Nothing that I’ve had before, but something that’s important to someone else. I want to have a conversation with someone older than myself. Someone who has something to say that I haven’t heard before. I want to love…

And I will. All of the above. To the best of my ability.

I also want to reinvigorate my life. I want to meet my friends. (I know that sounds strange.) What I’ve found though is that I’ve formed friendships with so many wonderful people, but most of them don’t live anywhere close to me. I want to tear out a page from the book of Kat Brooks (Face 2 Face), and travel across the country meeting incredible people. Seeing incredible things. I want to take pictures during all of this and tell stories of people that haven’t been heard.

I want to share my passion. My gift. My love. So there you have it… Another rambled post by yours truly.

Remember me,

Tennessee

Brief Contentment

That feeling of complete contentment.

The sun shines through the window. Resting gently on your skin. Her body is glowing in the morning light beside you. Your bodies are entangled still, from the night before. It’s silent, except the rhythmic rise and fall of her breath. You strain to listen, syncing your own breathing to hers. A little closer to her than you were before.

It’s been so long since I’ve felt that, and now that I have again... I almost don’t know how to react. It has consumed me. I struggle to remind myself to breathe. Walk. One step after the other. Working along the way. If I didn’t remind myself, then I’d stay in this room bathing in the sunlight next to her.

She wraps her arms around me, and I forget that anything in my life has ever been difficult. In that moment… I am content. 

-Tenn

Something About Life

December 23^rd. That’s the last time I wrote.

So many things have been taking place. As a lot of you know I took a trip back to Tennessee for the holidays. It was nice, but sad at the same time. I got to spend time with my family, which was amazing… for the most part. I held my mothers hand as we watched my little brothers Christmas Play. I got to watch a Tennessee sunrise, and a Mississippi sunset. I stood in the rain and heard nothing but drops. Saw nothing but the night. No cars. No horns, or sirens. No shouting or flashing neon signs. It was simple. Well, at least nature was. The people there, however; are complicated.

I made the mistake of putting off a haircut until the very end, so there I sat… at Wal-Mart. A young woman sat me down in a chair.  Black hair with a red streak in the front and a tattoo on her arm, she was alternative from where we’re from. She leaned me back and began snipping. She asked where I went to school. Snip. She asked where I grew up. Snip.

She asked what I was doing now. Snip.

She asked if I was married. Snip.

I said no. Snip. Snip.

She announces that she has to introduce me to her cousin. Chris. Or her other cousin Matt, but mainly Chris. Snip.

Now mind you, my hair is in the hands of a woman with very sharp scissors and two male cousins. It’s that assumption that I’m straight. It gets me every time. Seriously. I just don’t get it. What bothers me more though is the fact that I feel like I can’t talk about being a lesbian in a beauty shop of southern women.

The day before I had been in that same store walking through the aisles when a woman a little ways down whispered, “dyke” to her son while staring at me. No reason. I guess she was defining me. Stamping a mental note into her 14 year olds mind. I mean he probably can’t describe Abraham Lincoln, but I’m someone he needs to remember.

She was right.

He should remember me. In fact, we should all be remembered. I appreciate her for taking the initiative to point me out. Maybe one day someone will return her kindness. 

What I love about L.A is, there’s less of that. I had a guy scour when I held hands with a girl once, but that’s nothing like what I saw in Tennessee. He even kept his opinion to himself verbally. All of my friends here could care less that I like women. They even approve. Over lunch, my colleagues and I sit around talking about our weekends, dating life, personal problems. We’ve become sort of a family. Just this past Tuesday I called up a group of them to go to my girlfriends show.

Oh yeah. That’s the other thing I like about L.A.

Her.

Seems a little crazy to say, but I’m seeing someone. And not to rub it in, but she’s that holds you through the night and wakes you with a kiss, drives an hour and a half to bring you a space heater when the target two miles from you sold out, calls you beautiful every day kind of woman.  Even as I type it I smile. I miss her. Even when she’s here I miss her. I always wonder if we could get a little closer? Hug a little tighter? Instead I just travel further into her mind and bathe in the beautiful stories she tells. She’s a British musician…

Yes. I will let you all catch your breath.

She has an incredible love for songwriting, and an incredible love for words. I can’t tell you how many times she has left me breathless using her voice alone. Often, I lose my own words in the process.

On New Years Eve I stepped off my plane to find her waiting next to baggage claim. When I walked up to her, her golden red hair glowing in the sunlight, she just smiled and held out a book.

 “In case you lose your words.” she said, as she placed it in my hands.

It was a word search book. I knew then that she would be trouble.

I found from that point forward, I was either with her or thinking of being with her. We’ve walked hand in hand along the beach, cuddled to Pitch Perfect, delivered gift bags to the homeless for New Years, attended a celebrities holiday party and more. This weekend, we will be going to a Social Distortion concert with her cousin, and I’m stoked. Mainly because that’s the next time I’ve scheduled to see her.

I guess that’s why I haven’t written as much lately. I haven’t really had time to assess things. I’ve just been rolling with it and not thinking about where my heart was headed. I enjoy her company. I like doing things with her. I love our conversations.

I am completely open to seeing where things go with her. She’s doing everything right.

Also, I feel some poetry coming on. Maybe not tonight, but soon.

Remember me,

Tennessee

Three Years

It's been three years.

Three years since I loved a heart for every beat.
Three years since I gazed upon rings and wedding gowns counting down the days.
Three years since I told myself that I was ready.
It's also been three years since we broke up.
She wrote my sister today.
Left her words to float freely through my mind.
Every time, it cinches the rope around my heart.
Pulling it back again.
Today however I struggled to find the girl I knew in the woman that I saw.
I searched, but the resemblances were few.
We were young.
We had no concept of forever.
The closest we had come was a promise made on a couch in a basement on New Years Eve.
I love her.
To this day.
To say I don't is childish and naive.
I love the girl who cried the day I left.
The day I drove nearly 3,000 miles from Atlanta to Los Angeles.
I loved that girl.
I can remember her fists on my t-shirt, clinging to the last of what would be us.
I remember the months before where she drove 4 hours to meet me in Tennessee.
It was almost her birthday.
When she had to return home, I told her to stop for gas nearby at the slowest station around, and raced past her with a full tank.
I arrived at her home only minutes before where her family waited patiently with me to surprise her.
I put everything I had into that girl.
We were separated by miles, and anger.
Angry that we loved so intensely, but were in no place to be together.
Three years later, I'm still picking up the pieces.
Three years later I've broken two hearts who loved me, hoping I would feel the same.
I've made mistakes that I'll never be able to take back.
Three years later, I can finally look myself in the face without regretting who I am and what I've done.
I thought the distance killed us, but the truth is we had little in common except the love we had for one another.
Her dreams ended with a degree, and that's where mine began.
Three years later, and I know she was never the one.
She was a beautiful memory.
One that I'll use to remind myself to try and love again.
She's the girl that I'll reminisce upon as something I did well.
She's the girl that I can reflect on and say honestly that she loved me just as much as I did her, but we were young.
Not everything is supposed to work out.
Not every relationship is meant to last forever.
Three years ago prepared me for today.
See, three years ago, I didn't know what forever meant.
Three years ago I couldn't look at one woman and truly believe she would be the last taste on my lips.
Three years ago I had no idea what I wanted, much less what was best for me.
Frankly I still don't, but I'm three years closer.
When I walk up to a woman and take her hand.
When I tell her I love her now...
Those words will not be wasted.
I'm not saying the next woman I love will be the last.
I'm saying that if she's not, then I will be one love closer to the one that lasts.
I'm also saying that those in the past have taught me mistakes to not make again.
Never again will I be a stranger in the arms of a woman who loves me.
Never again will I hesitate.
I won't fear love, or loss.
I'll search until I find the woman who is looking for me as well.
The woman who tells me beautiful things because she means them.
Not because she believes they're what I want to hear.
Next time I'll find the woman who holds my hand, not because she's afraid I might leave.
But because she likes being synchronized with my footsteps.
I'll fall for the woman who holds me.
I'll fall for the woman who rolls into my arms when she wants to be held.
The woman who plays no games because her time is better spent winning my heart.
I'll fall for the woman who does her own thing all day long, but I'll still be the first and last thing on her mind.
It might be tomorrow, or three years from now.
She might never come, but never again will I settle for anything less.
After all, three years is nothing when you're facing an eternity.

Home For the Holidays

Rarely in my life can I remember sheer happiness. Not just a time where everything was going right, but a time where even the bad things seemed miniscule. I’d love to say that it’s the spirit of the Holiday’s and that the world is on it’s best behavior… But that isn’t it. No. The reason I’ve found happiness is because I’ve accepted things that I cannot change.

After five years of not speaking my father reached out to me. He has made a concentrated effort since probably July or August to be a part of my life. He calls me once every two or three weeks, and even paid for my flight home for Christmas. Since I’ve been here we’ve had dinner together three times, shared a few thoughtful texts, and even had a few friendly debates. All of which I never thought would happen. The thing that took me the most by surprise however was a conversation that we had over dinner with my sister, her best friend, and my nephew.

My father is going through a midlife crisis. He has been for a few years now it seems. He works all the time, his girlfriend of 14 years broke up with him when I was 16 and he has only dated around since. Never anything serious. The closest thing he has had to a girlfriend is a woman who lives over in the Philippines that he met online in a yahoo chat room. Honestly my sister and I never thought much about it. We figured that it was just something he did to occupy his time, but after talking for a while now… he informed us that he is going to the Philippines to meet this woman.

Now, I’m not one to judge, but I’ll admit I’m a little weary. I’ve heard lots of horror stories, and overseas is a little drastic, but over dinner we began discussing it.

“You better have her blood tested.” My sister said.

“Already doing it.” My father replied.

“There are a lot of tests you should have done. It’s called STD’s” I offered.

“You don’t know her like I do.” He said. “She’s very religious.”

“Great.” I responded.

“HEY!” piped in my sister’s best friend. She is also very religious. Now don’t get me wrong. There is nothing wrong with that. To each their own. But in those same regards, not very often have I met people who were “very religious” and really liked me. It’s the whole being gay thing. “Gay and Religion” rarely go hand in hand.

Now by this point my sister was very confused, bless her heart. She didn’t understand why her friend reacted the way that she did, or why I was concerned about this woman religious beliefs. It didn’t dawn on her until she saw the look of worry on my face. I mean after all Dad and I spent five years of not talking because of my sexuality. In fact we have NEVER talked about it. He chose to ignore it all together when he found out from other people, and instead disowned me.

After staring at me for a few seconds, it hit her and she said. “OH. Dad. Did you tell her that your Daughter was a lesbian?”

And just like that every breath of air inside of me was knocked out. Had it not have been for the plate of food in front of me, I might have banged my head on the table. I even considered crawling under it. For almost ten years now I’ve managed to not have “that” conversation with my father. It even ended our relationship for a while, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t face him.

I’ve been told I’m the gayest person alive. My mother marched alongside me to protest homophobia in Nashville, we sat with Betty Degeneres during the filming of The Ellen Show, and I work with Sajdah and Chanel from the Real L Word at Motivate Equality. I’m so unbelievably proud to be gay because it’s an important part of who I am… Yet, I can’t tell him.

I guess my sister could see the anguish on my face, because her immediate response was “What in the world is wrong with you?”

I couldn’t speak. I wanted to vomit. My face turned bright red, and everyone at the table sat in silence.

“You know he knows, right?” she said.

“We’ve never talked about it.” was all I could get out.

“I told her.” He responded. Then he turned to me. “It’s your life, baby. I don’t care what you do.”

Just like that. After ten years of silence, there’s my anti-climatic story of how I “came out” to my father over hamburger helper, and sweet tea. Two years ago his response would have made me angry. I would have flew off the handle about how badly it hurt me that he left, and if he didn’t care what I did, then he wouldn’t have disowned me in the first place. I would have went into a rage over how not caring would have meant we could have talked about it, and that he would have been present for my college graduation and three broken hearts. Not caring would have meant that he would have met my ex-girlfriend, who I swore at the time was the love of my life. Two years ago… I would have reacted completely differently, but instead I nodded, gave a half-hearted smile, and finished my dinner.

See the thing is, when I wanted to change him I couldn’t, but he’s slowly doing it on his own. I’m putting up effort to build a relationship with him, and hopefully his love for me will be enough to get us through anything the future holds. Among the things I expect to face with him will be my engagement, marriage, having his grandchildren with a woman (they will probably be mixed), and eventually I hope that he will accept these things instead of just “not caring”.

I hope that all of you carry an open heart into this Holiday Season. Don’t base your happiness on presents, or lights, but instead on the moments that you spend with loved ones, and the efforts that they make. Love them for who they are, and not who you want them to be…. Just as we hope they’ll one day love us.

Happy Holidays to all!

- Tennessee

Confidential

 When I was fifteen years old, a freshman in high school, I began going through a change that would shape the rest of my life. In a high school with no more than a hundred students between all four grades, everyone knew your story. They knew everything about your life from who you dated, to who your parents were, what your home life was like.

I came out at age fifteen. It’s when I had my first girlfriend. I lost my best guy friend then because he realized I would never love him the way he loved me. My mother had been sick for four years at that point. I was helping to raise all of my younger siblings. I struggled through a body image complex, as well as many other issues that went hand in hand with high school.

One of the worst moments I can remember was my freshman year after I had just told my friend that I was gay. One of the guys on the basketball team found a journal that we kept between us. He read it out loud on the school bus on the way back from a field trip to half of my class. Mind you, that was only ten to fifteen people, but when the word came back around and I found out… I was devastated. I had no idea how I would ever survive the teasing and the humiliation.

Here’s the truth...

High school is hard. For some people it’s even miserable. For four years I searched for something to give that time in my life purpose. To make it make sense. I couldn’t relate to my parents. I had only one other friend who was gay, and she held that secret to her heart, never to let it out. I had friends who were going through pregnancy, one who was placed into foster care, others who dealt with rape, their parents divorce, and other unimaginable things. For a sixteen year old that is a lot to take on. Especially when there is no one around to help you through it.  I wish that I knew during that time that I wasn’t alone. That my life wasn’t the only one that was so difficult. I wish that I knew that although it wasn’t “normal”, I also wasn’t by myself. There are many young women out there who face the same issues every day. In fact, at some point or another, we all go through something.

That’s why I think that shows like High School Confidential are important. In 2008 the first season of this show was released. It followed the lives of 8-10 young women through all four years of high school. It tells their compelling stories, and brings to light the difficulties that many young women face every day.

This Wednesday the show will be back for it’s second season. For four years these young women have lived their lives on camera. Four years of strife and joy, trouble and triumph. Four years of girls slowly becoming women. The great thing about this show is it will help other young women cope with the same issues. Unlike my high school period when I felt I had no one, these young women will show us that we’re not alone. The show definitely isn’t only negative. It also shows some of the positive moments in high school. I hope to see the wonderful things I enjoyed like prom, homecoming, school-dances, first loves…

Hopefully this series will be educational for parents as well. Had my parents understood what I was going through, had I known that I could talk to them, life might have been easier during that time. Let’s hope that this series gives that assistance to families across the nation.

So join me on Dec. 19^th to watch High School Confidential Season 2 premiere on WE. The season will open with back to back episodes of freshman year part one and two at 8 and 9 p.m.  We can recall our own lives as they find theirs, but remember… It’s confidential.  

Like Words On A Page

I was 8. 

I sat tucked away behind a huge stack of hay bails, reading quietly on a summer afternoon. It was hot, and the hay trapped the humidity. Little drops of sweat rolled from my forehead, but I sat there feverishly reading my book. 

I was an exceptional reader. I was the child that begged to go to the library. I was the little girl that thought reading was fun. I often had teachers shoo me away from the side of the building, because I'd sit in the shade and read during playtime. In fact, the only time I ever got in trouble in grade school was for reading under my desk during class time. 

I used to rush through my tests and classwork, just so I could read until our next assignment. I loved to read. I loved words. I loved using my imagination. As I grew older that passion was neglected. I stopped reading as much, however that's when I began to write. My first stories began at age four or so. I won a poetry contest in the 4th grade. When I was 16 I began writing my first novel. I had over 100 pages handwritten. That's right. I wrote it by hand. Every word. I sobbed through half of them. 

My love for words not only remains, but it grows every day. Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed by them that it makes it difficult to breathe. I have to pick up a pen and write it out ferociously across a sheet of paper, just to let out the angst. 

Lately, however, the words haven't been coming.  

I began today's post last night. I usually post on Sunday's and I intended to, but I realized quickly that I had nothing to say. At least anything that I did.. I couldn't verbalize. I have been making more effort lately to develope my work, but I've also been sick this past week. My body is tired and worn down. I'm exhausted. The last two weeks have been especially taxing. 

What is the remedy for Los Angeles Exhaustion, you ask? Tennessee. 

I'm going home. Thursday I will get on a plane and head out to Memphis. I'm so excited I can't stand it. Maybe that's part of the problem right now. I'm so excited about going home that I can't focus on what i'm doing here. I have a lot to do even while I'm home, but I can't wait to hug the twins, and watch Ethan dance. I'm looking forward to watching my mom drink twelve cups of coffee in a sitting, and hearing my sister's laugh. I've been told we sound just alike. 

I'm also excited to sit outside with winter all around me. The crisp air. The sound of wind roaring instead of a car alarm. I'll admit it. I miss it. 

I am hoping to be revitalized this holiday season. I think this trip back to the South is going to be exactly what I need. I'm sorry for the short post, but i'll do better next week. 

Cheers,

Tenn

Change the World

"You've got to stand for something or you'll fall for anything." Despite the twang that Aaron Tippin' sang it with, the guy had a point. 

When I came back out to California, I asked my self "What is important in my life?" What I found was that the thing I wanted more than anything else was to make a positive difference. I didn't know where or with whom. I just knew I wanted to help. When Sajdah Golde mentioned that she was looking for help with Motivate Equality, I knew that I had found a place to volunteer and give back to the community.

Today, my friend and I got in the car at 8:50 on a Sunday morning, and drove down Crenshaw to this tiny yoga studio. We met up with Saj, Chanel and a few other volunteers, and we begin doing something that frankly I had been dreading. We did a phone bank to help raise funds for the Ali Forney center, an LGBT Safe Shelter for homeless youth. It was destroyed during Hurricane Snady leaving hundreds of young peple without resources or a place to find comfort. While I was preparing for it, I kept doubting the people I had on my list. I was certain that no one would donate, and that because half of our volunteers hadnt shown up, that the day would be a flop. 

As I sat in this peaceful room listening to an intimate group of people sharing their very diverse stories, I realized there was no other place I would rather be on a Sunday morning. Many people spend hours in church and don't accomplish what we did. We raised over $1,000 for the shelter in a matter of two hours, and bonded over a tragedy. I think it is easy to forget sometimes what other people are going through when it doesn't directly affect you. 

As we went around the room telling each other what motivated us, my friend spoke up. She was volunteering because she's from Philly, and had a friend lose his home in the storm. He lived without power for 30 days, and watched the steam rising off the water settled on his floor because the water was warmer than the air. Someone else volunteered because they had a tough experience coming out and wanted to help other youth. Others came because they were nosey, or had nothing else to do. By the end of the day we were high fiving each other as donations came in, making jokes, exchanging social media connections to keep in touch… And a few of us teared up about all of the love in the room. 

Today I was a part of something meaningful. Today I was reminded how much I love my family and friends for their incredible contributions. Even my acquaintances were supportive. 

Today I was reminded what is so beautiful about this country. 

It's like a family with multiple siblings. All of the siblings (represented by race, gender, religon, sexuality, and other segregative self descriptive stereotype supporting words) fight amongst one another. They drive each other crazy, sometimes take it to far, and always offend each other, hower if an external force steps in, we always take care of each other. Natural disasters included. It amazes me, the human race. Despite all of the bad in this world, there is some incredible good. It would be nice, however for the siblings to not fight at all. 

Do what you can to make this world a better place. Find a calling or a passion. Find one that benefits someone other than yourself, and see what it feels like to love selflessly. It's an incredible feeling, to help. Acts of kindness are unforgetable. 

Through kindness comes a legacy.

Remember me,

Tennessee

I Wonder

The darkness settled.

Your heart pounded gently beneath my fingers.

Never a love has beat against the tips like yours.

The stars shone down upon the hood of my car.

Reflecting on your skin.

Our bodies intertwined like the lonely days in my head.

Each one replaying, remembering life before you.

How lonely.

Misplaced once again, hiding from the hate.

Shielding ourselves from the choice words of society.

All I heard was the silence surrounding me, and the steady of your breath.

In and out. Quietly. Permanently.

And as my hands found your waist,

They reminded me that life is far greater than just living.

Life is a chance. A time to explore.

No more do we have to hold our tongues.

We say what we feel, but then… then we waited.

I remember how it felt. Terrified. But right.

I couldn’t stand the thought of who I was…

But on the hood of my car, no thought was necessary.

Instead I found your lips.

Parted them gently.

Longing for the reassurance of forever.

Knowing that forever would never come.

Hoping that they were wrong about me.

I was good. I knew it.
I wasn’t twisted or perverse.

I only loved the one who captured my heart.

I had no control over the hands behind the love.

I was young, and simple… But never free.

My freedom was captured by those who took it freely.

Taken. Stolen… By those who resented the peace that I had found.

Rolling now. Tossing and turning in a bed that isn’t familiar.

I wonder if you’ll ever return the way you said you would.

I wonder if I will ever feel those tips, or the tips of another..

That burned at the touch, when we held each other.

I wonder if I’ll ever again love with the passion in which I loved you.

And I wonder if you’ll ever do the same thing too.

I wonder. 

Giving Thanks

It’s post Thanksgiving. My second one without family.

After a while you stop seeing it as a Holiday, and more as a vacation. It becomes time off. A break, if you will. That’s why I didn’t try to make this holiday complex. Instead, I hung out with a friend. We attempted to cook our version of a Thanksgiving dinner (it turned out really well). Afterwards, we pulled up all the new American Horror Stories, and I caught up on this season.

1: It’s twisted.

2: It’s creepy.

3: I love it, and I have never been more thankful to not be that twisted and creepy.

Now I’m sitting on my couch waiting for my guests to arrive. Yes. I did the unimaginable. I invited 30 + people over for a late night extravaganza. Now, I’m hoping that it goes smoothly. I made it very clear that it was BYOB. I bought a case of beer for a cushion, and NOW I am waiting. We discussed that whole patience thing right? I’m not great at it.

Instead, I grabbed my laptop and here I am.

Let’s talk about the last time I tried to throw a party. I don’t mean when I was turning twenty-two and invited 150 people (who nearly all showed up) to a bar I worked at. That was easy. I said “Hey it’s my birthday” and everyone bought shots from the bartender. Here, in my own home… Now this is complicated. I keep asking myself…. Is someone going to fall through the sliding glass door? What might look fun to a drunkard? (That way I can hide it). Etc.

So far it’s been a fun game of “What to clean, What to hide.”

I like choosing between the two. It’s very satisfying.

Anyway, back to Thanksgiving. All I wanted to say really was this.

I am thankful for the friends I have made along this journey. I appreciate you all for coming back week after week to read this blog, and all that I say within it. I can’t explain to you what it means to me. I try to voice my honest opinion hoping it will enlighten someone else, but the truth is… I’m figuring it out one day at a time… Just like you… So I appreciate the faith you put into me… One day I’ll make you proud. Each and every one of you.

Remember me…

Tennessee

What I Want

What I want.

I want to walk down the street without looking over my shoulder. I want this in every city. Not just for myself, but for everyone.

I want to hold hands anywhere I go. Not everywhere. Sometimes it’s not necessary or appropriate, but I would like the option. I would like to be able to hold hands anywhere.

I want my efforts to be reciprocated in work, love, and life. I want dedication to be universal, and “the right thing” to be law of the land.

I want to create. I want to leave my words behind, my art, and for someone to look back and say “That girl got it.”

I want to feel the passion of a love song, and see the results of a happy ending. Mystical I know, but I think it’s possible between two like-minded people who are willing to put their pride away. While sometimes pride can be a good and honorable thing, other times it just makes you immature and ridiculous.

I want to believe in love again. I feel like more often than not, I’m the “Bridesmaid” and not the bride. I would like to be on the end of the relationship where all of my friends are sick with jealousy.

I want to know what happened to Kennedy. The real story. Not the one our government shared.

I want to own an art gallery. I want it to double as a restaurant. This is a long term dream. Nothing I’m rushing into, I just like to think out loud.

I want to meet a slew of British Gingers. Adele, Ed Sheeran, Rupert Grint, Prince Harry. Seriously, Britain has the coolest gingers on the planet and I want to meet them all out for a hot beverage. We can call it Ginger Tea.

I want to climb a mountain. Bottom to top, I want to do it. Not particular on which one… as long as it’s tall.

I want to live in the same city as my mother. It’s been almost six years since that’s happened. I miss her.

I want to work with Jessica Chastain on ANYTHING. I’m beginning to think I just like red heads.

I want to meet Jessica Lange. (Maybe I’m into Jessica’s too?)

I want to master the art of recognizing warning signs. I mean when I’m out in a public place, when I’m walking home alone, when I’m weary about dating someone, and when I get too close to someone (even family). I want to be able to recognize ahead of time if there is anything suspicious or problematic.

I want to forgive. Despite my efforts, sometimes I still find resentment that I’ve held on to even for the silliest of things. I want to let it go. All of it.

I want to do my best at anything that I attempt. I’m not saying I have to be THE best. I just want to be the best that I can be.

I want my little brothers to grow up somewhere that they’re not taught to discriminate based on gender, ethnicity, religion or race. Although my parents try, the surrounding community is making this difficult. Despite the growth of our country, there are still places where this is a problem.

I want to hold the hand of my grandmother again. I want her to recognize me, and call me “Dahling.”

I want to cross the point where the atlantic meets the pacific, and I would like to do so by boat.

I want to hold a panda bear. An incredibly insane amount.

I want to be alive when there is a female President, multiples if possible.

I want to see an openly gay performer perform at the Grand Ole Opry. Better yet, I want to see Chely Wright.

I want bullying, gay related or not, to disappear. It’s hard enough being sixteen.  I mean do you remember the awkward way your body changed, pimples and puberty? Times are TOUGH for teenagers. They don’t need any other assistance from each other. That kind of change starts with us. The way we treat each other. The way we treat those younger, and older.

I want to write a love song.  Those are always difficult for me. Break up’s are more my specialty.

I want to get married, and it be legal in every state. 

I want to look back at my life 77 years from now, content, and ready. Yes. I intend to live a hundred years.

And that… Although somewhat seemingly unrealistic, is what I want. I dream because it gives me something to look forward to and something to strive for. I live in the now for the pursuit of tomorrow.

Just something that I thought I’d share with you all today.

Enjoy your Tuesday!

- Tennessee

Yuletide Yearning

I have this idea about life. It’s a crazy one…

See, when I wake up in the morning, I enjoy it. I enjoy what new comes with each day. The experience of living it. I yearn for constant change and irregularity, yet stability. Doesn’t make much sense does it?

I’ve been really happy lately. I finally got my gym membership. For those of you who constantly feel upset, or hopeless, try going for a jog each day or working out. It’s a natural stress reliever with feel good consequences.

I went today for the first time. I was doing planks on the mat in the corner when I looked up and saw the Hollywood sign through the window. There it was. Staring back at me.

It almost takes your breath sometimes, you know? You’re driving down the street, leaving a coffee shop, or hitting the gym, you look out and see that word. “Hollywood”. Some people have never seen that sign. I still stare at it with disbelief.

I have heard more than once since I’ve been out here that I needed to toughen up. I’m apparently too nice, and people are going to take advantage of me if I don’t come off as a badass. I disagree. Call me naïve, but I think that I can still be nice, and friendly while succeeding. I don’t think I should have to choose one or the other.

Also, I think life ought to be enjoyed. What good does it do you to work every second of every day, if you never take a moment to enjoy it. Working out, dinner with a friend, I cherish these things.  I wake up in the mornings for those moments. I don’t work my tail off just to work that hard again the next day. I work that hard so I can feel confident when I go home, or so I can afford a meal out. I work that hard so I can enjoy life.

One day I will work to support a family. That’s a terrifying thought. I was thinking about it earlier because it’s beginning to feel more like Holiday season. Not necessarily in the weather, but just the way people are talking. My mother reminds me every time I call home that I am going to be home soon.

I have decided to fly back for around two weeks. During that time I hope to get quite a bit of writing done. I also want to spend time with my family. I’ve missed the twins. I’ve missed my mom.

What’s interesting though is I know when I get home there’s going to be a new feeling of regret. I don’t know why, but I have thought about having kids since I was twenty. It didn’t really hit me until this past year when both my step-sister and step-cousin have had a baby. I’ll admit it. Especially around the holidays I often wonder what it would be like to have a family. I know! I’m young. It doesn’t mean I don’t think about it. My mother used to light up the entire house in Christmas lights. We would decorate it with every sideways knick-knack art project that us kids brought home, as well as with my mothers collection of glass ornaments. I can remember the glow of the white lights off that 7 ft tree as I curled up in my mothers chair with her and a cup of cocoa. We sat quietly until I fell asleep. I remember Christmas as a beautiful thing when I was a child. After I began to grow older it lost a lot of it’s sparkle and shine until I eventually began to resent it. Watching it through the eyes of a child however is a beautiful thing, and I cant wait to make it special for my children and wife. If she by chance practices something other than Christmas, then I’m excited to learn about that tradition from her. I think it’s important to participate in life. Do things. Enjoy yourself. Smile.

Tonight is going to be short and sweet. I have to be on set early tomorrow. I’m excited. It’s my first day going on set for something since I’ve been back to Cali. The rest of my work has been in the office or for special events. I’m looking forward to being out there.

Have a great week guys. Do something spontaneous.

Remember me,

Tennessee

Faith and Snow Flakes

“An Inspiration.”

That was the only thing I could manage to say. My mother sat quietly on the other end of the line. She had asked me what I wanted to be when I graduated. That was the only answer I had for her.

It was 2 a.m, and I was sitting in my car crying outside of my best friends apartment. I called her after I returned home from the bar where I worked. I didn’t drive, but my car was my “thinking spot” so after the twenty or so people went inside for after bar to dance and play beer pong in the kitchen, I sat outside alone.

I was currently intoxicated. I had no direction. I lost sight of my passion, and film wasn’t as fulfilling as it had been in the previous years. It was my senior year of college and I was three months away from graduation.  I had just finished shooting my senior project, and wasn’t happy with my results. This started a downhill spiral.

Snow was falling gently around me, covering the windshield one flake at a time. Through the few open spots on the glass, I could see the streetlight peeking in.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t know how to do anything. I’m not that great at film.”

I was nailing myself one harsh comment at a time. I had hit a point where I wanted time to freeze like the ice dangling from the roof of the apartment. I didn’t want to graduate. I didn’t want to grow up. I wanted to sit there, drunk in my car, and play Peter Pan for the rest of my life. I was afraid. I was months away from losing all structure I had ever known. Until that point, there had been a plan. I would get good grades, graduate high school, find a college, go to college get more good grades, graduate from college… And then what? Get a job? Have a family?

None of that was guaranteed. In fact, I hadn’t even begun to think about a job. Where would I apply? How did that even work? If you want to work as a banker, you go to a bank and apply. A nurse finds a doctors office or hospital. In film, you can’t even get onto a major lot without a pass. Most jobs are word of mouth, and nine times out of ten you’re not going to get an interview without a high recommendation. I had nothing.

“I just want to come home.”

I was sobbing at this point. I hadn’t turned on the heater, and I sat shaking violently in my car. I had never felt more alone.

My mother suggested I talk to my professors, or my advisor, or the President of the college. I, however, wanted to sulk, so I pretended like everything was hopeless and all of her suggestions were useless. When she had run out of potential answers, I hung up and cried some more. One by one, party-goers walked out of the apartment and to their cars. I sat for another two hours blasting an old burnt CD that would have made you think I liked to “Drive around and cry a lot” (as my best friend used to say).

I waited until I couldn’t cry anymore and opened the door. The cold hit me like a brick. A very, very, cold brick. I stood out in the snow, the flakes stinging my skin. It had begun to fall quicker. I tilted my head back and let the flakes blanket my face.

The snow settled on me and melted as quickly as it landed. It hit me… and disappeared. I began to wonder if that’s what this feeling would be like.

I had felt it before… that sense of hopelessness when I felt insecure and unsure of myself, and in that moment… I knew I would feel it again.

That’s the moment where I began to realize that life has no plan. That it goes and changes as it pleases. That I can’t force it to go the way I want it to, so I might as well hang on tight and enjoy the ride. I brushed off the hood of my car with my hand and laid down on the body. Before long the snow began to stick to my shirt. I watched it clump, and collect and build.

When it began to melt through my shirt, I stood up, and it was gone again. One more of life’s funny ways of reassuring me that it always knows better than I. Guiding life is something that we all do, but it’s those who can change direction when the time calls for it, and roll on that succeed.

I’m still working on that. I have to remind myself daily, but I’m trying.I encourage you all to do the same.

I started believing in myself, and let life guide me… Now I’m a personal assistant for a celebrity, and writing in Los Angeles, California. Who would have thought?

Next time something doesn’t go your way, ask yourself why it didn’t work out. Maybe another option opened up? Maybe that particular thing is supposed to happen later, or there is another path that you’re supposed to take. If that relationship you worked so hard for didn’t last, then maybe it’s because that’s not the person for you. The longer you prolong it, the longer it takes to meet the partner of your dreams.

Have faith in life. Believe. We have to live it regardless, so why not do it with a fulfilling and positive attitude? Enjoy yourselves. Encourage others to do the same. Be the person you’ve always wanted to be.

Remember me,

I’m Tennessee

Patience

I’m back at the laundry mat.

The familiar hum of dryers spinning round and round. Tumbling t-shirts and button ups, sweaters and sweat pants. It’s interesting when you think about it…

How many of these items were handed down by family members? Are some of them the lingerie of a lover? A mistress? Do these items belong to a mother of 5 squeezing in the wash during her two-hour break before she goes to her second job? Maybe somewhere in there is a shirt that belongs to a young woman who wears it whenever she needs to feel sexy again. Regardless, it’s another reminder how big the world is around me, and how small I am.

I don’t mind being small. In fact I prefer it. When I’m amongst a crowd, I don’t feel the need to stand out anymore. Rather, I long to blend in. Not to be unoriginal, but to be a part of something greater than myself.

I’ve stood alone. I’ve stood by myself, and fought the current. Now instead of struggling through the waves, I simply look for a stream that’s going the same direction. Something that isn’t so aggressive and difficult. I search for those who are like-minded in my beliefs.

I still run into those who are different. I find discomfort during conversations with conservatives and religious extremists. I’m still questioned and belittled, undermined and disregarded. I even still find myself the butt of a discriminatory joke every now and again. I’ve realized by now that I’m not going to change the mind of everyone I speak to. Often I won’t even leave a mark. Occasionally however, I will.

The thing that I struggle with the most at this point is patience. It’s a virtue that I’ve never really possessed. This patience that allows me to understand that some people have known no other way than hate. I see it everyday. Even here in California I will overhear a conversation that is racist or sexist, even if it wasn’t intended to be.

I long to feel at ease in my own skin. To breathe deeply during an attack.

Lately, I’ve found myself in a place very unlike my usual temperament. I’m not depressed. Not even sad really. I’m in pain.

Literally. My heart aches. I long to feel, and to share those feelings. I’m sure some of you are wondering what I mean by “feel” when I just clearly stated that I was in pain. It’s difficult to explain. I often find inspiration through art, music, life, the trees, sunshine, a blue bird… etc.

For some reason, I haven’t felt that in a while. I’m not sure if it is my increasing level of stress from moving to a new city, working two (sometimes three) jobs, maintaining friendships, questioning which ones to maintain, and still trying to be creative during this entire process or if I’m simply numb to life at the moment. I hear stories all around me of passion and anger, love and devotion. I hear of achievements and failures, pick me ups and let me downs. Now, God willing, I would love to be on the positive side of all of those… But I’m just ready to feel again. To be inspired. I’m ready to create.

Even as these words fall across my screen, I wonder if writing in this blog even counts really? I’m sure most would debate that it does, but the truth is that anyone can do what I do. Anyone can pour out their heart. In fact I encourage it. It’s liberating.

What I’m waiting for, I suppose, is more. That’s very selfishly “first-world country” of me, I know. Having so much and yearning for more. I can’t help it. Emotionally I’ve found that I’m never satisfied. Maybe the patience might be good for that as well?

A friend asked me earier what I was writing and I explained that I can’t write anything right now other than in this blog. I’ve tried. I’ve looked over some of my old scripts that I’ve started I’ve looked into the fictional novel I began. I even looked at some of the poetry I forgot that I posted years ago on poetry.com. I’ve searched for some sort of inspiration anywhere, and can’t find it. I do the only thing I can. I write here.

The best way I could describe it was, “I’m looking for an answer as I’m writing. I feel like I’m close to a breakthrough, but I can never tell really. Life itself is a revelation… Isn’t it?”

And then it hit me.

Patience IS the answer. Nothing has to come to me today, or tomorrow. As long as I am breathing deeply, and living fully, the rest will come in time. If by some off chance I never make it quite that far through life, then I was never intended to in the first place.

Life is a revelation. Every moment is that “Aha” in which you realize you know something more than you did moments before. This moment, I know that I am in desperate need of patience, so I will close my laptop. And wait.

I’m not sure what for. I suppose it will come to me when it is supposed to.

I’ll be waiting. Patiently.

Remember me,

I’m Tennessee