Loss

My biggest fear.

It’s not lack of acceptance. It’s not losing faith in myself. My biggest fear isn’t of bugs or spiders, snakes or any other creepy crawly thing.  My biggest fear has nothing to do with clowns, masked figures or hairy legs, even though I hate all of the above.

It’s not even failure, although that runs across my mind every day. I worry constantly about where I’m going, disregarding how far I’ve come. But that still allows me to sleep at night.

No. My biggest fear is loss. I’m afraid of losing things. People. Myself.

I’m afraid that I’ll misplace something. I’ll lose it in a time of need and hinder others or myself. I don’t like displacing other people, so this for me is tough. I know that it sounds silly. I’ve been told my entire life that everything is replaceable, but is it?

When I was around 9 years old I would go back and forth to my father’s house every other weekend. Sometimes I would only make it down once a month depending on his mood, and whether or not my step mom was around. She would make him take me on his weekends, and looking back I wonder if he ever would have done it on his own. (Our relationship is much better now. I have her to thank.)

I sat at his house one Summer in his 3 foot blow up swimming pool around the side of the house. My sister had gone out with some of her friends and I was there alone with my dad. He was inside the house working on whatever my dad worked on at home and I sat underneath the trees basking in the sunlight that slipped through them.

All in all it was beautiful day, but I missed my mom. I wasn’t the kind of kid to go away from home a lot. She was only forty-five minutes away, but for some reason I was having a really hard time being away from her. As I sat in the pool, surrounded in the lukewarm water, my blood ran ice cold. What if she wasn’t less than an hour away? What if she left me?

Better yet, what if something happened and she was forced to leave? What if she got sick or something happened and passed away? I’m not sure what child at that age has those thoughts, or what made them come to me, but what I do know is that it was the first time I had ever been overwhelmed with emotion. That was the day that I realized two things.

One: I was terrified of loss. I didn’t know what to do with it. I had never felt it. I couldn’t grasp it, but I knew it was there and could be lurking around every corner.

Two: I realized that I wasn’t like most children.  I felt emotion. Fear. Love. Passion. I felt them more strongly than most people my age could even imagine, much less comprehend.  I just didn’t know what to do with them yet. I cried for hours in that pool, and couldn’t stop until I heard my mother’s voice over the phone.

It took me years to figure out what any of it meant. I hated my emotions from the 6^th grade until Senior year of college. It was then that I started to appreciate that level of passion. I had loved few times by then, but I loved hard. Maybe three girls I had loved, and only two had I been in love with. It’s interesting looking back because I spent so many hours looking back, thinking, “I want that again.” I had lost it.

That’s where my fear comes from.

Around a month after graduation from college I moved to California. I got my dream job, met celebrities, and lived in an incredible place.  This was long before my move in September. I’m actually on my second go around.

I thought that the job was everything I ever wanted. I thought I was pushing myself where I wanted to be. The truth was, I was changing who I was to be something I wasn’t. I was trying to make bread out of a brick, and it wasn’t going to happen. Instead I slowly began to hate myself. Instead of softening, I crumbled. I had no idea who I was turning into, or who I had been.

I was changing… and I didn’t like it.

I sat down one night, and I prayed. It was the first time in years. I didn’t rush to read the bible. I didn’t seek advice from a preacher, or involve religion in any way. Instead I simply asked for internal guidance by a greater power. I asked if anyone was out there in the shape of God, that they help me to where I needed to be. If I was supposed to stay, then I would stay. If I was supposed to go, then I would go. I wasn’t sure yet where, but I knew I would do whatever was best for myself. After thinking over it long and hard, I wound up leaving the job and moving home. I decided to start again. To do it differently this time. To not lose myself. To not forget who I was. I didn’t want to change. I wanted to grow. I loved who I had been, I just wanted to be the better version.

I wanted to be kind, and free. I wanted to love and be loved. I wanted to find myself in the eyes of another and not question what their intentions were. I wanted to feel the wind in my face on a Friday because I slipped out onto a back road. I wanted to feel like I wasn’t failing anymore. I wanted to not be lost.

I spent a month in shambles at my sisters. Not sure of who I was or what I was capable of. I didn’t know if I wanted to be in film. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay in the South. I didn’t know. I had the post-graduation melt down, and I needed to grow up. I needed to take care of myself. To be self-sufficient.

It was time to win.

So that’s it. That’s my biggest fear. I struggle with it every day. I can’t give up, because I can’t lose. It’s so hard being away from my mother. Being away from the twins. I call home everyday, and I know that eventually a day will come when my mother won’t answer the phone, but I quickly think of something else. I know I can’t handle that thought right now.

I wonder. Will I be that strong?

I knew a girl. She lost her mother at an early age. When we met I couldn’t understand what she could possibly have felt. What she went through. I also couldn’t understand why she wasn’t as open as me. Why she couldn’t feel life the way I felt it. I think looking back, it’s because I never lost it to begin with. Recently her Gram, who she’s been living with since passed away as well. I tried to be supportive, but …

“I have never lost someone that close to me, I can’t tell you what you’re feeling is right or wrong. What I can tell you is that you are one of the most incredibly strong people I have ever met. You are everything that I wish I was. You… have faced my biggest fear, and won. I tip my hat to you, and if I could I would wrap you in a hug. I know that you feel like every time you lose, a part of your love gets cut out. You feel that you can’t get close because of what has happened, but the truth is… I think that it’s the incredible people like you who are out here to help the weaker survive. You’re the one who will hold the hand of someone like me, and help them exist. You’re the one.”

I hope that it helps. If not her, then someone else. Know that you are doing the best that you can do, and we’re all thankful for the way you deal. Good or bad. You’re fine. You’re more than fine. You’re incredible.

I hope that everyone has a good week. Just remember. We all have bad days. That’s fine, but if you’re positive, even the bad things can’t keep you down.

In fact, I was in a small wreck today. It reminded me that when the inevitable happens, you roll with it. You can’t stop things like that. You can’t change them once they’ve happened… And really you’re not losing. You’re just redirecting yourself to win in another place. 

Good Morning

“Good Morning.” She woke me with a smile and a kiss on my cheek.

“Mmmm. Good morning.” I laid in the morning’s light, still wrapped in the blankets of the night before. She brought me hot tea, and we lay there preparing ourselves to get up. I had to call my boss to determine whether or not she needed me for the day, but in the meantime I was told that I needed breakfast. She prepared me scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and sliced avocado. I stumbled, sleepily to my chair and sat down. Another kiss on top of my head, and I devoured the “breakfast of champions” as she calls it

One phone call later revealed that I was free for the day.

“What should we do?” I asked.

She smiled at me sweetly, listing off options ranging from kayaking to the zoo. I burst out:

“Disneyland.”

She laughed, and nodded her head. We jumped up, getting ready. When I was finished, I sat in front of the door waiting impatiently like a small child.

“Are you ready yet?” I said, doubling the syllables in each word forcing them out with a whine. We stopped at the grocery store along the way, and she came walking out with roses and a balloon. I’m sure a few of you are thinking about now, “this has to be fake. Women like this don’t exist.”

That’s what I thought, too.

See I’ve been the one to give it my all before. I’ve been the one to go above and beyond without receiving anything in return, but what I love… Is that she’s willing to give it all back. Not even just willing, but that she does. Voluntarily. I never have to ask.

It’s an incredible selfless love. One that I have never felt before, but that I wouldn’t trade for the world.

We spent the day walking around the park, laughing and holding hands. Waiting an hour in line for a ride that lasted three minutes, but it was worth it every time, because I spent that hour with her. 

We talked about everything, from what we saw ourselves doing in 5 years, to where we wanted to get married. What our wedding dresses would look like, and where we would vacation on our Honeymoon. We talked about how many kids we wanted, and whether or not we would adopt. We talked about our parents, and their influence on our children. For the first time, I wasn’t scared of these conversations. Instead, I relish in them.

This morning I woke up in her arms. She kissed me gently on the cheek again, and asked “tea”? I stumbled behind her to the kitchen, and she made me the “breakfast of champions” all over again. Not for my Valentine’s present. Not for any special occasion, but because she loves me. Not long from now we will head out to gather my passport. She’s asked me to go to England with her. Not to live, just to visit.

I spoke to her mother this morning for the first time. It’s funny to hear so many English accents around me all the time. She’s brought an entirely new light to my life, and every day is different. Even now as they sit across the room on Skype, talking about the day… I can’t help but smile. Even the simplest things seem beautiful coming from her.

We sat on top of cliff the other day, looking out over the ocean. We read aloud a story by Tennessee Williams, but couldn’t even get past the intro. He spoke about the life of fame and fortune. How depriving it is of our humanity. He was a firm believer (post The Glass Menagerie) that if we can do for ourselves, then we must. To let others do for us is repulsive and shameful. Valets, maids, butlers and such, are all enabling to the demise of our vital need for independence.

It’s sad that we created this unnecessary hierarchy anyway.

Busy week this week. Love you all. Stay strong.

Tennessee

So Much

So much. Where do I even begin?

To begin, as some of you already know, last weekend I worked on a little show called “The Voice”. It was open casting calls in Los Angeles, and I stood on my feet for twelve hours, two days in a row shuffling 3.000 scared/excited individuals to their destiny.

I met so many incredible people, from the ones behind the scenes, exhausted as we worked side by side, to the ones in the hallways who were literally beside themselves with nerves. More than once, people would ask me… “Do you think I’ve got a shot?” Now as a production assistant, I couldn’t really offer them advice, so instead I responded with “Do you?” It wasn’t about whether or not I believed in them. It was always about whether or not they believed in themselves.

I couldn’t help but smile though when someone that chatted with me before going inside would come out holding a pass to the next round. Fingers crossed I’ll be able to follow a few of them through to the live auditions. That weekend was such an eye-opener for me. I am probably the luckiest person I know. This is what a weekend looks like for me…

I don’t even mind anymore that I work 7 days a week, because it doesn’t feel like work. When I’m doing my job, I feel happy, thrilled to be a part of such a creative and wonderful environment.

Last Friday I had lunch with Loni Anderson and Bob Flick from The Brothers Four. They’re friends of my boss, Dawn Wells. You probably know her as Mary Ann from Gilligan’s Island. They told me their love story of how they met in Wisconsin when she was 17. He was 24, and just out of college. She pretended to be a senior in college, and he was a huge young adult heart-throb singer. They talked for a few years and drifted apart. She went on to be an actress, and married Burt Reynolds. They stopped talking and almost forty years later she saw Bob on a talk show. She picked up the phone and called his office leaving a message. He picked up in the middle of the message, but remained silent. “Bob, is that you?” she asked. “I’m trying to think up something clever to say about Wisconsin.” He replied. They’ve been married now for five years I believe. Seeing them together, is like watching love struck teenagers.

This week I watched my beautiful girlfriend perform at The House of Blues, and right now… Well, right now she’s setting on an amp across the room typing up her latest press release. It takes everything I have not to rush across the room and wrap my arms around her begging for the attention she can’t afford to give. Instead I sit patiently, typing away on my laptop.

Ok. So I did run over there to steal one kiss.

Lying in bed last night she said to me “ I want to get something for us both for Valentine’s Day. We can keep it here.”

“What is it?” my natural response.

“It’s silly really.”

“IS IT A PUPPY?!”

“No babe.” She laughed.

I can’t really have a puppy right now anyway. I’m far to busy… but I can’t have a baby either, so a puppy is more realistic.

“Tell me.”

She lay against me, with her head against mine.

“I think we should pick out a rocking chair.”

Can I just add that she could have said  “toilet paper” with that English accent, and I would have agreed.

“A rocking chair?”

“Something that can watch our love grow over the years.”

I melted. I can’t wait for our rocking chair. I can’t wait to write love poem, after love poem in that chair. Listen to her play her guitar, and sing me thousands of beautiful songs from that chair. In fact, I don’t think that anyone has ever been so sweet, and so thoughtful towards me.

I love her.

I know without a doubt in my mind that I love her. I don’t want to sound naïve… I won’t say that I think she’ll be forever… But I will say that I wouldn’t mind a bit if she was. We’re still in the “Honeymoon” phase. I still get butterflies when I see her. Even now, she’s out with her cousin at a concert, and I’m going stir crazy trying to think of something to write that isn’t about her.

I can’t.

Actually, I’ll take that back. I’m fine with writing about her. This is the most inspired I’ve felt in months. She makes me push. I sit still when I’m alone. Resting. Waiting. She’s the kind of girl that had rather do anything than wait. She likes to live.

A musician with a law degree, and an English accent. Did I mention I was lucky? It’s interesting, because I can think back over the last year or two. I met some really lovely people. I even thought that I was in love. Maybe I was, but she didn’t love me. When I look into my girlfriends eyes, I see a burning fiery passion welling inside of her. I know that every touch will melt me, and I cling to her. I hope for more.

I would drive ten hours to spend ten minutes with her, but she would never let me. She would meet me in the middle. And then we could spend 5 hours and ten minutes in the arms of one another. God… this is what this feels like.

“Marry Me” by Train is playing on Pandora. I’m certain that it can read my mind. She actually said to me last night “I don’t want to scare you, but I’m going to marry you one day.”

I believe her.

I am sitting in her house now, waiting for her to get home. I’ve spent the majority of the evening talking to her dad. He told me that he could remember the night that we met. The look on her face when she said “I’ve met someone.” It’s so interesting to hear about our love from someone else’s perspective. See, I knew that I adored her, and she said that she’s loved me since the moment we met… but he laughed when he said “I hope that you stay with Rosie.” As if he knows something that I don’t.

 I think I’ll wind down this post with one final bit of advice…

Don’t run from it. If love is there, right in front of you, waiting to be felt… cling to it and never let go. Now, let’s hope that I’m smart enough to take my own advice.

Remember me…

Tennessee 

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