The End is Where We Start From

This is my last post on this blog. I'm moving over to another one for my new...life, I suppose, if that's not too trite for words.

But I'm keeping this blog up to remember me where I've come from, what I've done/seen/said and all the amazing people and places I passed through on my way.

It's been liberating, my lieblings. Catch you on the West Coast.

Never Tell Me The Odds

I just looked over that last post and realised something:

In a weird way, I'm still working on that sense of faith. Now you know me, my lieblings, I'm not into religiousity, so that's not what I'm talking about here. I'm 21, I'm heading to L.A. with very little, and I'm scared to death honestly. But I'm going to do it because I have this thing in my head that screams, "You can do this! That dream of being a successful actress is going to come true!"

I have to believe that voice or else I'm going to be paralyzed with fear. I've traveled very little, far less on my own. This is moving to an unfamiliar city on an unfamiliar coast and hoping that someone gives me money to pretend to be someone else. The odds are NOT in my favour, but...I'm going to do this anyway. Because I love acting; I'm passionate about this job and all I want is someone to pay me to do it. I don't expect (nor want really) to be some huge star being followed by photographers and a huge entourage. I just want to do projects I love, with people I admire now, I want to get invited to cons because those are my geeky people, and...I want to act. That's all.

If I Wasn't Me I'd Hate Me Right Now

So, I've been going through my room 9throwing most of it out) and came across a rash of shirts and dresses I wore when I was younger (6th grade seems to be the average age if I'm remembering correctly).

My 6th grade self (braces, overweight, acne, awkward) haaaaaaaaaaaaates current me. Absolutely hates that I look better in shirts and dresses a decade later than when I bought and wore them the first time.

Also, going through all my old journals (those that actually recorded thoughts and didn't just have 'I Love Aaron Carter' scrawled on every page...I sense a bonfire coming on), I realise I was a pretty dumb kid. Never mind the incorrect answers on the vocabulary questions (Really, 5th grade me, expedient means a rule-breaker? Really? You're gonna have to show me the working on that one), I put all my hopes and dreams on becoming a pop star. Yes, I'll give you all a moment to laugh............there we are. Oh, still laughing? I'll wait............good. I was so certain of so much: that Aaron Carter would find me and fall in love with me, that I'd become a world-wide sensation, that Britney Spears would become my best friend (in my defense, it was early 2001, before she lose her marbles).

Silly, silly little me. Glad to see you're *looks at her Supernatural and Torchwood magazines* so much wiser *casts glance over her worn copy of Ten Inch Hero* ...now. Bugger.

Home is Where the Heart Is...

If my heart is found in your town, please do let me know.

I've left St. Augustine and I'm back in Tampa, but...well, as much as sometimes both these places felt like home, now...

No sad things, even if this is more morose musing than actually sad. I want to find that place where I belong. Maybe it's waiting in California (isn't Pasadena Geek Capital of the World? And close to L.A. too...) or in NYC with Mary and Craig or in Texas or Britain. Who knows?

When Did I Become a Romantic Comedy Herione And How Can I Make It Stop?

So, I've just realised something about myself. Actually, I think I've always known, but I finally articulated out loud:

I'm a career woman. I'm determined and ambitious and going to succeed in my chosen profession of acting came hell or high water. When did this happen? When did I stop being a dreamy girl with her head in the clouds and her wedding all planned out. The only thing about any future nuptials I may have that I care about is I want my mom to make my dress and Charm City Cakes to make the cake.

Sure, I still get stupid over a cute person, but I am sabotaging myself deliberately and mostly unintentionally. I never expect to stay in any one place so I can't get attached because the relationship will have a due by date. My job will be beautiful and terrifying and amazing, but it's a gypsy's life. If I don't learn to take chances even with a deadline looming, it'll be another five years before I have a date, maybe longer.

I love my job, I really truly do. I'm not even sure I should call it a job, because it's my life. And when did my life become about one thing?

This isn't meant to be maudlin, but lieblings, just reflective. Huh.

No More to Tread Them Boards

So last night was the last time I'm ever going to walk the Flagler College stage. And I'm okay with that. I feel as though I should be more morose about that. I mean, Bobbi-Jo actually cried when she took her last bow on the stage and I was like, meh. Then again, it wasn't really home, well no more than any stage is a little piece of home for me. And so many people are trying to get me to be excited to be an alum (when I graduate in thirteen days), but I'm not.

Curtain Call is my theatre. Howard W. Blake is my school. If I'm ever in a position to be particularly generous with time or money, it's these institutions who get it. Not USF, although I had good friends and enjoyed (most of) my time there. Not Flagler, even though the same things apply. Curtain Call and Blake are parts of my home.

As for where feels like home...I'm still searching for that.. Who knows? It may end up being L.A. or New York or maybe Vancouver or Dallas or Nashville. I don't know exactly where this manic, unpredictable, beautiful, crazy job of mine will take me.

I like that.

Wanderings Recap

Okay so my wanderings for yesterday (downtown) and today (uptown):

Friday
1. Put in a p/t job application @ Scents of St. Augustine-it smells really good in there.
2. Visited the Taco Shop for the first time and have since decided it's an acceptable AWESOME TACOS NOMNOM until I return to Tampa and my beloved Chipotle's Chipotle's chips are still far superior. Thicker and lime-flavoured FTW Not to mention, I think the place itself is the taco equivalent of Ten Inch Hero's Beach City Grill.
3. Couldn't get my chocolate lime balls fix=sad; cooed at the hermit crabs @ Bombay Trading Company=happy
4. Lots of tourists to wander through and school kids to mess with. Always fun

Saturday
1. Ate a v. v. greasy piece of pizza (the kind where the grease dribbles off for five full minutes when you pick it up). Justified that twenty minute walk to get to said pizza canceled out all fat and calories. $4.50
2. Poked into little antiques store-scored the pirate pitcher I wanted and a beautiful fairy mug for $2.12 (buck each and tax)
3. Waked even frigging farther for a yard sale, where I bought a cute pair of dangly, but light purple earrings. $1
4. Spent $7.12 on everything, walked a lot, and my feet hurt. Good day all in all.