2am Part 2 . Makes Even Less Sense

Minutes creep into hours, into days of unreturned sex. As I attempt to sleep, so many thoughts battle for space in my head, I let them all in. I'm a hoarder of thoughts. Why do I always fall in love with people who don't love me back? At least in "Say Anything" when Llyod gives his heart to Diane, she gives him a pen. I never have enough pens. Of course, through movie magic bullshit, they also fall in love and fly off to Europe together. What they don't show you is that fifteen years later, Llyod is fat and bald, they have three obnoxious children, and Diane bangs the pool boy while Llyod works overtime to pay their mortgage. Why don't you take me to Europe? You don't even take me to seedy hotels in Columbia Heights anymore. I can quit gluten, I can quit clove cigarettes, I can quit sugar, but why can't I quit you? I blame the cold of this god forsaken place for all my irrational decisions. The best thing is to walk away now before we conceive one of those accidental babies that are more common than the cold this time of year. I'll keep telling myself I just wanted to cuddle and stay warm. I'll buy myself a Snuggie and hold it as tightly as I do all of my illusions.

It's 2am, and I Can't Sleep. If This Makes Sense, I'm Sorry

2am, in bed fully clothed, complete with scarf, coat , mittens. Is my radiator not working, or is it just the coldness of my heart that has seeped through and saturated my entire being? I remember a few weeks ago in your cold, bedroom, you tried to spoon me. You never touch me after sex so right away I knew something was wrong. You just wanted to stay warm, but I pretended that you just wanted to cuddle. Sometimes that's my motive for having sex, the hope that it will lead to cuddling. If that ever got out it would ruin my street whore cred. You actually covered me up again when I had fallen asleep and kept kicking my blankets off. I'm always shocked when you do something so thoughtful. Last time I slept over, you almost punched me in your half sleeping state because when I got up to leave for work, you could "hear my shoes clickety clacking across the floor." I wish you could hear my soul breakety breaking across town as I try to sleep. I keep inviting you to sleep over for the extra body heat which is pretty ridiculous considering how skinny we both are. Can two twigs rubbed together still make a fire?

My Week With Marilyn

I've been treating myself to movies more frequently. Most recently I watched My Week With Marilyn. Michelle Williams continues to mesmerize me with each new role she takes on. She could have easily been pigeonholed into characters like the beloved Jen she portrayed on Dawson's Creek, but Ms. Williams has emerged as one of the most gifted actresses of our generation. As Marilyn Monroe, she absolutely sizzles. The ensemble as a whole was magnificent with seasoned performers such as Judy Dench and Kenneth Branagh. This is performance driven piece where the story plays second fiddle. I found myself unable to take my eyes off Williams from her first wink. She is one who doesn't just rest on her gorgeous features, but she acts with everything she has. There were times that I couldn't stop staring at her eyes and the remarkable soul they displayed for someone so young. Williams, like Monroe, is no stranger to heartache, and she channeled that into a beautiful performance.

I Would Be a Great Soccer Mom

I should not be allowed to be around children when I am ovulating. It puts ideas in my head. It's funny because I was never one of those girls who wanted to be a mom since she was two. I was the opposite. I wanted to be a single, independent actress with no family or kids to keep me from pursuing my career. I thought babies were weird looking alien things that spewed and shit all the time. Ok, I still do kind of think that, but the little people have grown on me.
I remember taking Child Development in high school, still convinced I didn't want children. We had these flower sack babies. I named mine Christian River Phoenix Slater. The first night I brought him home, I left him on the table, and my dog ate a chunk out of his head. These are not the signs of a great parent in the making.
However, all of this started to change when a certain little girl came into my life. One day my brother picked me up after school with a surprise, a little, crazy looking baby. I think she was maybe almost a year old. From that moment on, she became an integral part of my life. Granted, it took awhile, but she stole my heart.
I remember the exact moment I fell in love with Bree. She was staying at our house while her mom had surjery, and she was sick. My mom had been up with her for several nights, and she was exhausted so I reluctantly volunteered to take a shift with the kid. I remember her sobbing because she was so miserable, and I really had no idea what to do. I just held her, rocked her, sang to her, things I had seen my mom do. She began to quiet in my arms, and at that moment I felt this form of love I had never experienced before, all contained in this tiny body.
That is when my journey into childcare began. I lived with Bree for several months when she was around three. We played school everyday, and I taught her how to write her name and the alphabet while we listened to the Beatles. Her smile and her laughter warmed even the coldest of nights.
She was the first of many children who have stolen their way into my heart. There is also Ian, love of my life. Anyone who has been around me for any length of time has been subjected to endless stories about Ian and his sister, Aida. I met Ian when he was six weeks old. He had a very large head and resembled Stewie from "The Family Guy." He was one of those fussy babies, and the other teachers in the classroom found him annoying. I found him irresistible. We became the best of friends, and four years later, I am still in his life. I have witnessed his first steps, first teeth, first words. His father affectionately refers to me as Ian's first girlfriend.
I could fill a book with stories of other children and their impact on my life. Who knows maybe someday I will. A few years ago, doctors told me that I will never be able to carry a child full term. I haven't fully tested out their theory, and I'm still not too keen on wrecking my hot little body in childbirth, but as much as I have tried to convince myself that I don't want kids, I can't lie. I want a couple dozen of various ages, sizes, colors. I've spent the last seven years helping raise other people's kids, and I know the downsides, but the upsides far outweigh any obstacles.
I know the world is overpopulated and people don't need to keep having babies, but I also know there have to be kids out there who are looking for a mom like me. Someday, when I am more financially stable, I am going to adopt. I've toyed with the idea of being a foster parent, but it was traumatic enough when I had to give up my foster kitten. In the mean time, I will settle for being Punk Rock Mary Poppins to as many children as possible.

It's a Shitstorm, and I've Forgotten My Umbrella

Every four to five years, my life falls apart. I'm not talking about some PMS or a few extra pounds of weight, but major life changes that hit me at once. This is one of those times. It's a shitstorm, and I have indeed forgotten my umbrella.
As I sit down to write this lovely blog I am currently unemployed,staying with friends because I have gotten kicked out of two houses, and recently the love of my life broke up with me. I have lost fifteen pounds and resemble a Midwest meth whore. My skin hasn't been this broken out since junior high.
My head right now is a carnival ride, one of those that makes you throw up. In a five minute period, I can go from being happy to wanting to slice people up and put their various body parts in ice cube trays.
I have been here before, this familiar territory I like to call Doubt City, where nothing makes sense but the fact that nothing makes sense. I know that in a few weeks, months, I will be out of this purgatory and on to new beginnings. Right now I am not sure how that is going to happen, but it will.
I have overcome a lot in my short life. Hindsight is everything, and I know that soon I will look back on all of this and see the life lessons the universe was trying to teach me. Right now I kind of just want to break shit, scream expletives at life, and sleep all day.

The Road to the Oscars is Long and Winding, and You Might Die Along the Way

I hate rejection, but I love acting. Sadly, the two often go hand in hand. Even if you are the most talented actor out there, like a Natalie Portman or a Brando, you will face rejection in your career. Rumor has it that Danny DeVito was rejected hundreds of times before he got a break, and I'm way hotter than him. Just saying.
Often it's not even your talent you are being judged on but a specific look the director has in mind, or even being connected to a certain person. Let's face it, there are many actors out there making a living who have the acting skills of one of my pubic hairs. I won't mention names, but their initials are... Just kidding! I don't want any lawsuits. There are so many factors that go into casting that the average film goer doesn't even begin to think about.
Even though at times, this has knocked me down and made me want to quit, I still keep trying because acting is what I was born to do. I have worked really hard, and I am always learning and growing, trying to perfect my craft. I watch movies and study actors I admire. Often times I am frustrated at how far people can get with so little skill based on how they look, but I understand. The general public likes to look at pretty people. There are the rare breed who possess both beauty and talent, and those are the ones I fear the most.
I will admit that there are roles I have cried over when I wasn't cast. Especially if I was led to believe I was a sure thing, but this business is like my ex boyfriend, scary and unpredictable. If you don't have balls of steel you will not make it, or you will become Charlie Sheen. I am a badass, and often this industry knocks me to the ground.
Too many people want their fifteen minutes. Lord knows some of their fifteen minutes should have been over years ago. They want the money, the magazine covers, the fame, but the true actor wants to create beautiful work and leave a legacy behind. I would consider myself in the latter category. I am not going to turn down money, but I have turned down numerous projects that were what I consider "camera phone toilet films" even though those projects won distribution and a small amount of fame for those involved. I would rather do two films that are works of art that I can show people than 500 blockbusters. Heath Ledger had a similar philosophy, and though his career was cut short, his legacy will live on with "The Dark Knight" and "Brokeback Mountain."
So you can have your Lindsay Lohans, Paris Hiltons, and all the other bimbos and skankettes out there. They may have more money than me, but they are also paying it out in legal fees, and Lohan looks older than me, and I've got a good ten years on her. So enjoy your fifteen minutes in the tabloids. I'll be crying all the way to the Oscars or even better the Independent Spirit Awards.

The Social Network

I have a love/hate relationship with the internet. It's convenient, and a great source of information, too much information. Sites like Facebook fish for information, and they share it. Rumor has it that FB is connected to the CIA. I wouldn't be that surprised. Information and photos you share become property of the site. No matter how you have chosen to set your Privacy. People are losing their jobs and facing lawsuits because of things they have posted on the internet. Why face your problems like a grown up when you can type one sentence and fuck with someone's life? In the film "The Social Network", which is mediocre, there is a great line about how something that is posted online is written in ink and can't be erased. I wish I could undo some of the things I've posted or emailed in anger or after a night of drinking. I also worry about who has access to my information. We have created a world without boundaries and privacy. People don't even have to work at stalking. All they have to do is log into FB and your phone will tell them where you are.