Therapy for Free

            Somewhere over the years I became everyone’s therapist. I think it started with my best friend, Iggy. No, that’s not her real name but it’s an inside joke between her and I so I’m sticking with it. Seasonal depression is most definitely a real thing and every year like clockwork when I was in high school, Spring would come around and it seemed as if every terrible thing was happening to Iggy. She would call me almost every day with another issue, another problem. The thing you should know about Iggy is, she’s not one for sharing her problems with anyone which made her outpouring even more troubling.

            I listened to her and I would offer some advice or I would offer to just go for a walk with her to give her a nice ear to rant into. Along the way, she started calling me her “Oprah”. I love Oprah so I took this as a huge compliment. For a long time, I relished in being the one my friends come to with their problems. The person they trust enough to confide in, it felt great. For a while.

            My friends mean the world to me. I would do anything for any of them and they all know it. Of course I would be there to listen to them when they needed me. Any time, day or night, I was ready to listen and do my best to offer any advice I could (I didn’t take those psychology classes and watch Dr. Phil all the time for nothing). For me, the problem with being everyone’s therapist is I felt as if I took on their problems and troubles and issues.

            Empathy is something I have always struggled with in my life. Not because I’m lacking it but because it pours out of me all the time. I’m too empathetic and yes, I believe this to be a thing. When a friend would confide in me about how depressed they are about the way they look or about their home life or about their relationship problems, I felt as if I was experiencing all of those things as well. Their depression fed into my own depression.

            I faced all the normal issues of being a teenager but my self-confidence is the one that held me back the most. I hid in hoodies and hand me down t-shirts from my Dad and brother because I knew they would fit. I hated changing in gym class and I despised wearing anything that clung to my stomach. My self-confidence issues lasted well into my early twenties before I ended up changing the voices in my head to be positive instead of constantly being negative. I say that as if it was a switch I just flipped, it wasn’t. It took years of cathartic writing and surrounding myself with the right people to finally do it.

            The point is, I already had pretty horrendous thoughts about myself swimming around in my head as a teenager. Then my friends would confide in me about their eating disorders or their verbally abusive parents or their constant struggle to even get up in the morning and it all felt like a weight was being added onto my shoulders. As if every piece of information they divulged, I would pick it up and carry it for them so they wouldn’t have to anymore. I would take it on hoping their day might be a little easier. My days were becoming unbearable. I absorbed their depression like a sponge and it began taking a toll on my everyday life.

            But how do I stop?  I couldn’t tell them all to stop talking to me. I didn’t want them to stop talking, I still wanted to be there for them and listen and help the best I could but it was hurting me. Eventually, I had to start taking breaks. Breaks from being around the same people constantly. I mixed it up more, I would space out my time with different friends and left ample amount of time for myself. I didn’t realize it then but I needed to fix my own baggage before I could help anyone else carry theirs.

            And I did. I fixed my life one piece at a time. School became easier in college because once I picked a major, I found so many people like me and they became such good friends. My self-confidence rose when I started hanging out with people who accepted me, nerdy tendencies and all. I started dressing my body better which helped my confidence when I would go out because I would start the night feeling good and not thinking, “Ugh, this looks horrible, I look horrible. This night is going to blow.” Eventually, I found jobs I loved and I moved out and my life came together.

            Slowly, through all of my changes I was able to go back and be the therapist. I was able to listen to their problems and not let them upset me to the point of crippling me. Every now and again though, my overpowering empathy rears its head again.

            Recently, one of my best friends told me he felt so embarrassed and ashamed of his life before he even get out of bed in the morning. I immediately teared up thinking someone I’m close to felt this way every single day. My immediate reaction was to fix it. Fix his life, fix him, fix everything he sees wrong. I talked to him for hours about what was making him feel this way and what he could do to change the way he’s feeling. But that’s just it; I had to offer him ways for HIM to fix his life. I can’t do it for him. I can’t fix anyone’s life expect my own. It took me years to realize this and it is still a hard realization when all I want to do is make someone else’s life easier.

            The truth is, being their therapist, being the person they can always talk to, might be exactly how I make their life a little easier.

@Valtimari

2015- A Year in Review

Yes, there's a gif of Tom Hardy saying Happy New Year. The internet is great.

            2015 was a roller coaster of emotions for me. Let’s break it down into categories: family, friends, myself, and writing.

Family:

            My family is large on my mother’s side. I’ve watched my Mom lose a lot of family members but this year was an especially difficult one. My mom lost her cousin, Mary Catherine but Mary wasn’t JUST my mom’s cousin. She was my mom’s best friend and second sister. I’m in awe of my mother the majority of the time. I went with her to the hospital to see Mary several times, I watched this woman who I’ve known my entire life, deteriorate in front of me. The last time I watched something like this I was 13 going on 14 and it was my Grandpop. I hope I don’t have to see it again for a very long time. Mom stayed strong, as she always does. If I have one ounce of her strength, I’ll be eternally grateful.

            My padre gave me a great gift this year. He paid the adoption fee for my kitten, River, after I found out I had to shell out $600 for a security deposit to my apartment complex just to have her. I’m so appreciative for what he did because coming home to River every day is the highlight of my life.

            My big brother. Four and a half years apart and it shows most of the time. I don’t think he really knows how much I admire his life. Although, we don’t’ talk often, I know he’s always there if I need him and vice versa. He proved that this year when I called him out of the blue, hysterically crying and begging him to promise me something. He did promise me. He’s a great big brother.

Friends:

            Oh my friends. They’re the best. I always loved the saying “friends are the family you create for yourself” or however it goes. My friends are all super different from one another but equally odd and I think that’s why we fit together. One of my best friends moved home this year and we’re all so happy to have him back in Philly. My friends have spent a lot of time trying to figure their lives out and I think they all made significant progress this year. While none of us are completely put together (far from it), and we’re not all on the same path or going the same speed, we’re all heading in the right direction.

Myself:

            Hmmm, what to say here…well 2015, I can’t say I’m sorry to see you go. I dealt with death this year which always hits me hard. I think about death more than I think the average person does. I think about it at the most random times and for long periods of time. I try to move past it with humor and sarcasm and I do a pretty good job most of the time.

            Love life. Oh my love life, or lack thereof. Actually that’s not true. I fell in and out of love this year. Slowly, quietly and without anyone really knowing. ß My favorite way of doing anything and everything.

            I moved into my new apartment this year which I love. I bought my very first set of living room furniture and I’m slowly getting rid of all my hand-me-downs. Next, I’ll be purchasing my own kitchen set then possibly a new bedroom set until my entire apartment finally feels like me.

           My River came into my life. When I adopted River, so many people said to me, “I didn’t know you were a cat person” but it wasn’t about being a cat or dog or bird or turtle person. It was about a feeling I had when River was placed into my arms. I wanted her to stay there forever. It’s been two months (tomorrow) of living with her and I love her more and more every day.

            I lost almost 20 pounds this year and gained severe happiness. Partly because of the weight loss and partly because I’m becoming older and more comfortable in my life as a whole. I’m okay with the fact that when I talk about Doctor Who most people don’t care or understand. I’m okay with the fact that I’m never going to be super thin; my body just isn’t built for it. I’m okay with the fact that I’m always going to hate my arms. I’m still going to work on losing weight because it makes me happy to see a smaller number on the scale but I’m not going to let myself become obsessed with it or consumed by it. I’m going to enjoy my life while slowly (and it is a slow process) trying to regain control of my body.

            Being in an embarrassing situation is one of my least favorite aspects of life. I try to avoid being embarrassed at all costs. Even in school, I wouldn’t answer a question unless I was 100% sure of the answer because I didn’t want to be wrong and look stupid. To this day, I avoid guessing at anything because I don’t want to be wrong then be ridiculed. Whether people ridicule me or not, I always feel like they are (whole other issue). In 2015, I was embarrassed a LOT. Sometimes I couldn’t take it. Sometimes I tried to laugh it off and calm down the redness I knew was covering my already rosy cheeks. I tried really hard to not let the embarrassing situations ruin my night. In 2016, I’ll try a little harder.

            My writing. I made major progress this year with my writing. This website is one huge step forward. I don’t update it as much as I should which I’ll try to do more of in the future. I sent my writing to two of my previous teachers who are published authors (Eric Smith and Liz Moore- check out their books). They both gave me helpful and positive feedback on my work which is greatly appreciated and made me keep going instead of losing all hope in this difficult part of my life. I’m only making one new year’s resolution this year. Just one. Any others I think of will just be things to keep in mind as I go through the year.

            This year, my new year’s resolution is to finish a piece of writing. I tend to start things, get halfway through or more than halfway through then I get distracted or I have another idea and I start on something else. I’m the worst with finishing something I write. However, I’m always better when I have a deadline. 2016 is my deadline to finish something I’ve been working on sporadically for a while now.

            All in all, 2015 wasn’t half bad. I’m happy with who and where I am in my life. Here’s to 2016 being even more exciting and productive J

HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!

Love,

Veronica

Remember

            Inevitably, we all reach an age when the holiday season isn’t always the happiest occasion. Hearing this from me might be especially shocking because Christmas and the holiday season are my favorite parts of the year.

            Eventually, we start to lose people and Christmas songs bring tears to our eyes for different reasons. The first Christmas without someone you love is always the hardest. Sometimes it doesn’t get easier but sometimes enough time passes where the music reminds of you the good times again.

            I’ve experienced a fair amount of death in my life starting from the age of 13. Then I look at my parents and the amount of family and friends they’ve lost over the years. One after another, over and over again. Holidays are hard because it feels as if the sadness will consume you. You think to yourself, will I ever feel the kind of holiday cheer everyone else seems obsessed with?

            Here’s what I know from watching my family and my friends over the years having to deal with death and the holidays:

            Look to the children. Never in my life would I say children are the answer to any problem except this one. If you’re feeling sad, if you’re feeling lonely, if you’re depressed: go outside, go to a mall or to a Christmas Village and look at the smiles on all the kids’ faces. Look how incredibly thrilled they are with what’s happening. How excited, how unafraid, how free they are surrounded by holiday decorations and toys and Santa and snow. Their faces, their happiness, it’s contagious and you will be affected. Kids don’t know bitterness; kids don’t know the type of loneliness the rest of us can become accustomed to in life. All they know is how wonderful this time of year is to them. Trust me, they can remind you of what it feels like to be filled to the brink with joy.

            I’m twenty six years old and I still act as if I’m 7 when it comes to this time of year. I love snow. I love driving around the neighborhoods and looking at all the decorations. It’s my dream to one day go see the big Christmas tree in New York. I love shopping, wrapping, and giving gifts. Baking cookies with my mom is one of my favorite past times. Yes, I sometimes feel sad because I remember all the people I’ve lost, but luckily I still feel very childlike around this time of year and I can tap into those feelings and help pull myself out of any darkness.

            Never, ever forget all those we’ve lost around this time of year. Remember them fully, with love, and if you need to cry about it then by all means, let it out. All I’m suggesting is when you’re done, remind yourself as to why you used to love this time of year. Look at your kids, grandkids, nieces, nephews, friends’ kids, whoever and reconnect with the holiday spirit. When you’re pissed off you have to clean snow off your car, remember how happy you used to be when you were a kid and you had a snow day. When someone is rude to you in a store, remind yourself that maybe this time of year is especially hard for them and forgive them.

            This time of year is short, though it may not seem it sometimes, it is. And you never know if you and everyone you love will see this time of year again. So why not try to make it the best time of year for yourself and everyone around you?

            Be kind. Be childlike. Enjoy every second of the holiday season. And most importantly…

            If you’re having a hard time just do one thing: Remember.

            Remember those you’ve lost. Remember your past holidays with them. Remember how much you used to love it. Remember, you are not alone.

            Remember, this time of year is special, magical.

            Let the magic of it overwhelm you.

Have a great holiday season, everyone.

Love,

Veronica

River and Stress (not connected)

    Sorry, I haven’t written in a while. I’ve been swamped at work and I have a new kitten at home so things have been a bit hectic. Let’s talk about the kitten first. Her name is River Winchester (part Doctor Who/part Supernatural) and she’s a calico with a little bit of tabby on one side of her face. Never in my life did I see myself as a cat person. I love all animals and I’ve cat sit for people over the years and they’ve never bothered me. I just always assumed when I was on my own, I would buy a pug puppy and live happily ever after. However, when you realistically think about it, I’m not home nearly enough to train a puppy and it’s not fair to keep a puppy locked up in an apartment or in a cage for 8 hours a day. 

    Adopting a kitten wasn’t something I was planning. There’s a shelter called Lucky You Animal Rescue in Bensalem run by my friend Jackie’s Mom. (Facebook link: https://www.facebook.com/luckyyouanimalrescue/?fref=ts ) Jackie and I went to one of their events on Sunday to show support and see all the animals. It was towards the end of the event when we showed up. We walked over to the Lucky You booth and Debbie (Jackie’s Mom) plopped a black kitten in Jackie’s arms and a calico in mine. These kittens were barely 2 lbs and the calico (named Petunia then) was lying in my arms so cute and I don’t know what came over me but I fell in love with her. I gave her back and tried not to think about her but that was impossible. By Monday afternoon, I talked to my Mom and Dad and my friends about what they thought about me adopting a kitten and everyone seemed on board. I texted Jackie and told her I was in, I wanted Petunia. 

                                                                         Me and River

    It wasn’t until a week after having her that I realized there might have been a psychological thing behind my adopting River. I used to have one stuffed cat. My Grandmom gave her to me and I carried her around everywhere. I used to even put my dog’s collar and leash around the toy and drag her around with me. I lost her in nursery school and never saw her again. She was probably stolen by some grubby handed four year old who wasn’t taught about STEALING….moving on. My stuffed cat looked almost exactly like River. Coincidence? Yeah, probably but I like to think it was fate. 

   River Winchester is awesome. She’s such a good kitten and I love coming home at the end of the day and having her waiting at the door for me. She’s probably the best decision I’ve made in a really long time. 

    Switching gears now.

    There’s been a lot of drama surrounding my life lately. And if there’s one thing in this life I prefer to avoid, it’s drama. Drama with work, friends and people who are supposed to be my friends. I’ve mentioned before how most of my friends come to me when they’re having problems and I tend to take those problems on as my own. But this is drama I’ve been forced to participate in because it directly affects me. It mostly has to do with women in my life. Women equal drama and that’s a fact of life. That’s why the show, Facts of Life, only starred women (totally made that up but it fits). Now, I’ll stick up for other people any day of the week. I’d go to war for the people I love. But when it comes to ME having a confrontation I like to keep my head down to avoid it. I just want everyone to be okay. I don’t like seeing other people cry. I don’t like seeing people about to rip each other’s faces off. This type of drama sends me catapulting back into the hellish halls of my all girl high school. I can’t deal with it. I couldn’t deal with it then and I can’t deal now.

   My only reprieve has been coming home to River and just trying to leave all the other bullshit outside of my apartment. And yet, it creeps in. The hurt from my friends, the stress from different situations and the sadness all penetrate my brain. I would like to blame the kitten trying to eat my hair for my lack of sleep lately but the truth is, my mind won’t turn off. I have problems and conversations and fights running through my head over and over again.

    People are annoyed about my counting down to Christmas but I couldn’t care less. It’s the only thing pushing me through the crappy days. Thanksgiving (10 days away) and Christmas (38 days) and all the days in between are my favorite. I see my family more and people in general are just happier, friendlier and I try not to let anything spoil this time of year for me. 

    The world is in a state of disarray lately. My only hope is the holiday season will have a lot less turmoil and a lot more kindness.

Prayers for Paris.

Peace.

Life Manual

                Unfortunately, no one gives us a manual on how to handle life. Sure, we have countless psychiatrists and Dr. Phil writing them left and right but no one wants to read those. You know why life manuals never work out? Because everyone handles things differently. There is no clear right or wrong way to handle our feelings and our situations. We do what we need to do to survive, to wake up every morning and continue on with our lives. The only way to deal with life is to keep living it. And god damn it, it’s really hard sometimes.

                People handle love differently. Some people respond to it with open arms. Others push it away or fight back against it for various reasons.

                People handle compliments differently. Some people say thank you and appreciate the compliment. Others say thanks but they won’t look at you and will immediately change the subject because compliments feel weird to them. And others will just reject whatever you say to either gain more compliments or because they really feel that low about themselves and they can’t accept any compliments in their life.

                People handle marriage differently. Some people love the idea of spending the rest of their lives with another human being. Others find it to be the most terrifying, off putting, and/or daunting task in life. And others don’t even factor it into their life plan because it’s never been a goal or priority for them.

                People handle children differently. Some people are born to be mothers/fathers. Some people are born to be aunts/uncles. And some people are born to be none of the above.

                People handle conflict differently. Some people address conflict head on until it’s completely resolved. Others run from it. Or ignore it. And others just let it go (these people are my idols).

                People handle bad news differently. Some people keep it to themselves and deal with it internally. Others need to lean on their friends or family members because the weight of the bad news is too heavy and they can’t carry it by themselves.

                People handle death differently. Some people cry for hours on end when the death first happens. Some don’t process it till days, weeks, months afterwards- not until something hits them out of nowhere and then it’s a debilitating feeling. Some stay strong for the other people around them but break down in private. Some just stay strong no matter what. Some find comfort in the deceased person’s clothing or personal items. Others can’t even stand be in the same room with those items. Some find comfort in going to cemeteries. Others think there’s nothing left in a cemetery for them. Some people can only think about the things they regret, the things they didn’t do or say. Others think about all the good times, the conversations they did have, the laughs, the love they shared.

                I could go on forever about the different ways people handle situations in life. There are a million ways which is why there can’t be a definitive Life Manual. Life is too complex. And although we all face the same things- love, death, illness, heartbreak, sorrow, and joy- they feel completely unique to each and every one of us.

                So here’s my solution: Write your own Life Manual. Personalize it to you and your needs. Make lists of the things you need when your significant other is bugging the crap out of you. A list of things you need when you receive bad news. Maybe a list of songs you like to listen to when you’re in a good mood. Or a shitty mood. Or when someone passes, listen to their favorite songs or watch their favorite movies. Make a list of your emergency people- the people you know will listen to you, the people who will give advice, or the people you call when you don’t want advice, you just need to vent.

                Write you own Life Manual. I think the best time to write it is when your life is calm, that way when the storm comes, you grab your manual, you pick the tab with your current situation on it (love, death, illness, heartbreak, sorrow, or joy) and you get to work. You pull your resources and you do what you want to do.

                Life is cruel bitch sometimes which is why we have to enjoy the calm when it’s here. Enjoy the small things: movies, books, your friends, a huge plate of nachos, a bag of Oreos, going for a run, your pets, your kids, your family.

                And when the storm comes…grab your manual.

                You’re going to need it. 

"There's going to be a lot of changes in your life, Cory. It's not the changes that matter, it's how you react to the changes. That's what makes you who you are." -Eric Matthews

Patiently Waiting*

            I think about death a lot. Probably way more than I should or way more than a normal person. I may have mentioned this briefly before but it happened again today so I figured I’d write about it. At night, maybe twice a month, I have these pretty horrific nightmares. Mostly they’re about people I love dying and then I’ll wake up and not be able to move because of petrifying fear about five to ten minutes. I hate them and I don’t know what triggers them. You would think that’s bad enough but it’s not. My brain during the day can manage to come up with much, much worse.

            My imagination has always been on steroids. As a child, I would sit in the bathtub forever and play with my toys. Have full on conversations with them and make them talk to each other. I loved my dollhouses and could spend hours playing with them and coming up with scenarios for my dolls. Sometimes life is very difficult for me. People don’t follow a script and it bothers me. I’ll imagine saying something to a person and then I’ll imagine every single thing that person could possibly say but the bottom line is, other people don’t follow my script. I think the only surprises in life should come in the form of Christmas presents. I like to know what’s coming. I like to control what is going to happen in my life. I could control my toys and my dolls, I could control their lives and circumstances with my imagination. As an adult, I control the characters I write because at least they follow my script…most of the time.

            My imagination can give me incredibly vivid scenarios and play them out in my head over and over again. It chooses to center around death a lot of the time. I don’t know when I started thinking about death so much. I think when I was a junior in high school, all of our summer reading had books with dead mothers: The Secret Lift of Bees, Out of the Dust, and The Elephant Man. Dead mothers galore. Then I started reading more and more young adult books with dead parental characters or suicidal characters. I think because not only did I love to read but I was also fascinated by psychology and I wanted to know why people feel the way they feel, why they do the things they do.

            Then a year later my mother was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease and the whole possibility of a dead parent thing became a lot more real.

            This morning on my way to work, I started crying. I honestly don’t know what set me off. One second I’m just driving down the street passing by a big building I like to pretend is Wayne Manor and the next second, I’m picturing calling my best friend Chrissy and telling her my Mother is dead. And I’m screaming and crying and I can’t leave her bedside and Chrissy has to come and pry me away from her. Why did I think that? Why? Where did it come from? And why, oh jesus Christ, WHY can I see it so fucking clearly in my head? I can see everything about the hospital room, I can smell it, I can taste the tears on my lips. And all of a sudden, I’m crying softly and slowly in my car on the way to work. I have to tell myself over and over again, it’s okay, she’s alive. She’s at work. My Dad’s at work. David is at work. Everyone is fine, they’re fine. But it doesn’t feel fine; my imagination makes it feel very, very real. As if it’s already happened and I’m remembering a situation from the past. It’s not my past, I don’t even know if it’s my future and yet it’s my present in the car at that very moment and I can’t control it. I try, I try to stop the thoughts as they come hurdling to the fore front of my brain but it’s too difficult. They come and they burry themselves until I can’t do anything but play out the scene in my mind and wait for it to end. Wait for the script to run out. But this isn’t my script. This is an involuntary script being forced upon me by my own brain.

            There’s been a lot of death in my life, directly and indirectly. I’ve lost two Grandpops, one step Grandpop, I watched one of my best friends lose both his step-parents, I’ve watched people lose their grandparents, parents, friends. I’ve watched my Mom lose person after person, family member after family member, friend after friend. My Dad lost almost all of his friends and his father, shrinking his family to a very small size. I’ve been to a lot of funerals. Too many funerals. And there’s so many more to come. Maybe that’s why I think of these things so much? Because I know death is coming eventually and maybe if I know it’s coming, maybe if I can see it all in my head first it won’t be as horrifying when it actually happens. Wouldn’t that be nice? Of course, it’s not like that. I can think of 800 different ways I could lose someone I love and chances are not one of my predictions will be how it actually goes down.

            I love my imagination for so many reasons. It’s how I create characters, it’s how I enjoy movies and books and life in general. I rely heavily on it to get through a boring day. Then there are days like today, days when I wouldn’t wish this imagination on my worst enemy.

            Days when I picture my loved ones dying.

            Days when I picture their funerals in perfect detail.

            Days when I can picture the burial, the casket, the crying, the heart wrenching loneliness of losing them all.

            It’s hard to talk about these things with people. I’ve tried and I’ve been called “negative” or they look at me with this face, this face that says “What a weird morbid person you are”. No one wants to talk to me about the death of people who aren’t sick or dying. No one wants to see me cry over something that hasn’t happened and isn’t even close to happening.

            What people don’t understand, what I WANT people to understand is, I can’t control these thoughts. No more so than I can control the weather. I hate not being able to talk about this with people. I hate that I bury it away because it makes me feel like I’m in the wrong when I know I’m not. So here I am, talking about it. Even if I’m just talking about it to a website that maybe 3 people read. These are my thoughts and sometimes they’re scary and sad and involuntary and I hate them.

            There’s a bright side though (for all of you who think I’m so negative).

            The good thoughts always come back. It might take a day; it usually takes me writing out the horrible thoughts first. But they do always come back.

            The good thoughts always come back. I just have to wait.

*I'm horrible with coming up with titles so this one is courtesy of my friend Bonnie, also a writer. We were torn between Patiently Waiting and Patiently Morbid so I wanted to mention both. Thanks, Bonnie!

Why I Love the Fall/Winter Seasons

            Oh there are so many reasons to love the Fall/Winter seasons. Here are mine:

            MOVIES- People, let me stress the importance of film between the months of September to December. Studios specifically save their cream of the crop movies for this time of year because they want the Oscar nod. They want the nominations for Golden Globes, SAGs, Critic’s Choice, and the elusive Academy Award. The best of film comes out during these months. This year, I’m looking forward to the following movies (if you’re not a movie watcher, please leave. NO, I’m kidding, just scroll down to my other reasons…and also reevaluate your life):

            Legend- Tom Hardy (two actually, he plays twins!), Christopher Eccleston (the 9th Doctor!), Emily Browning and Chazz Palminteri.

            Release Date: October 2nd

            Plot: Identical twin gangsters Ronald and Reginald Kray terrorize London during the 1950s and 1960s.

            Secret in Their Eyes- Julia Roberts, Nicole Kidman, Chiwetel Ejiofor, and Joe Cole (John from Netflix’s Peaky Blinders (which I also suggest everyone watch)).

            Release Date: November 20th

            Plot: Rising FBI investigators Ray (Chiwetel Ejiofor) and Jess (Julia Roberts), along with their district-attorney supervisor, Claire (Nicole Kidman), are suddenly torn apart following the brutal murder of Jess' teenage daughter. Now, 13 years later, after obsessively searching for the elusive killer, Ray uncovers a new lead that he is certain can permanently resolve the case and bring long-desired closure to the team. But no one is prepared for the shocking and unspeakable secret that follows.

            Black Mass- Johnny Depp, Benedict Cumberbatch, Joel Edgerton (Warrior, SUCH a good movie, watch it), Dakota Johnson, Kevin Bacon (!), Adam Scott, Cory Stoll and a whole mess of other awesome people.

            Release Date: September 18th

            Plot: While his brother Bill (Benedict Cumberbatch) remains a powerful leader in the Massachusetts Senate, Irish hoodlum James "Whitey" Bulger (Johnny Depp) continues to pursue a life of crime in 1970s Boston. Approached by FBI agent John Connolly (Joel Edgerton), the lawman convinces Whitey to help the agency fight the Italian mob. As their unholy alliance spirals out of control, Bulger increases his power and evades capture to become one of the most dangerous gangsters in U.S. history.

            The Intern- Robert DeNiro, Anne Hathaway, Adam DeVine, and Rene Russo.

            Release Date: September 25th

            This one isn’t winning any Oscars but it’s going to be funny, I can feel it.

            Plot: Dissatisfied with retirement, a 70-year-old widower (Robert De Niro) takes an internship at an online fashion site and develops a special bond with his young and attractive boss (Anne Hathaway).

             The Martian- Matt Damon, Jessica Chastain (love this woman, look into her movies and watch them ALL), Kate Mara, Kristen Wiig, Jeff Daniels (one of my favorites), Michael Pena, Sean Bean, and Chiwetel Ejiofor.

            Release Date: October 2nd (sorry Matt Damon, I have to see Legend first)

            Plot: When astronauts blast off from the planet Mars, they leave behind Mark Watney (Matt Damon), presumed dead after a fierce storm. With only a meager amount of supplies, the stranded visitor must utilize his wits and spirit to find a way to survive on the hostile planet. Meanwhile, back on Earth, members of NASA and a team of international scientists work tirelessly to bring him home, while his crew mates hatch their own plan for a daring rescue mission.

           The Martian is based off a book which I plan on reading before I see the movie. Now, even though I’m not a HUGE Matt Damon fan, I think this movie looks brilliant and it has a bunch of other incredible actors in it.

            But LOOK at the lineup, folks! And this is only FIVE out of all the movies coming out this Fall. There’s going to more awesome ones to follow and I can’t wait. So yes, the number one reason I love Fall/Winter is for the movies.

            Second reason I love Fall/Winter: Hoodies! Hoodies, sweaters, hats, gloves, and scarfs. Bundle up in the comfiest clothes ever made. I get to bring out all my thousand hoodies and wear a new one every day. Hoodies have always brought me comfort. Usually oversized ones too.

            Next up: Hot chocolate and pumpkin muffins. Now, I don’t get all obsessed with the pumpkin extravaganza in the Fall like most people. I like my pumpkin muffin and my pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving and that’s about it. But the combination of a Dunkin Donuts hot chocolate and pumpkin muffin is my FAVORITE Fall/Winter breakfast.

            Fourth reason: HOLIDAYS!!! Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas, OH MY! Get pumped, ladies and gentleman because I am like a 12 year old on happiness steroids during this time of year. I love the fact that Christmas music starts playing four seconds after Thanksgiving ends. I love that Hallmark already has Christmas ornaments out. I love helping my Mom make Thanksgiving dinner. I love going to Halloween parties and eating ridiculous amount of Kit Kats (the BEST candy). I love the holidays and I think it’s sad and depressing when people my age or older have lost their love of the holidays and think of them as nothing but an annoyance or inconvenience. Holidays are for seeing your family members several times in a short span of time. Holidays are for smiling and happiness and being cheerful, and playing in the snow regardless of your age and taking walks around the neighborhood with your friends in the cold air. Holidays are amazing and everyone should try to find the joy in them, it’s worth it, I promise.

            Fifth reason: SNOW! I love it, I crave it, I wait for it all year. I know a lot of people who hate the snow. Hate everything about it. Despise it, in fact. They act as if it’s this HUGE inconvenience like it doesn’t come around every single year on the East Coast. I get it, sometimes it only snows one or two inches making it just annoying enough to commute to work. But we live in Philadelphia with about a million different ways of transportation: figure it out. And after you figure it out, stop. Stand there in the snow, close your eyes, and take a deep breath. Then open your eyes and look. It’s quiet and clean and pure and lovely. It’s magic. Snow is magic. Take your time this year and appreciate it, please.

            I’m sure I have a dozen more reasons but they’re all really just subsets of the reasons I’ve already stated. I love Fall/Winter and I hope you do too. Or at least, I hope we can all take the time out of our very busy lives and feel grateful and lucky for even experiencing another Fall/Winter season with our families.

Moving Drama and Life Assessment

    I turn twenty six on Wednesday. Twenty six years old. I used to think about being in my mid-twenties all the time when I was a teenager. Being a teenager sucked and I would wish for the point in my life where I could be an adult, make my own decisions, design my own home, and buy my own stuff. That’s probably why I started working when I was 15 (14 if you count babysitting). I wanted money to buy my own belongings. Now I’m almost twenty six.

    I moved into a bigger apartment on Thursday night. The whole day was a whirlwind. I thought I was just picking up my keys with Bill and Chrissy and moving in a few small items ourselves. The movers weren’t supposed to come until Friday. Around 3:45 pm, we were about to go pick up the keys when the movers called and said, “You want to do this thing tonight?” Let me just preface this by saying, I was NOT ready. Boxes weren’t sealed, the bathroom and bedroom still needed to be deconstructed and packed and I still wanted to clean the place. But I said, “Sure, let’s do it tonight.” 

   Cue my insane freak out. 

   Chrissy, Bill, and I grabbed what we could, BOLTED to my new apartment, grabbed the keys, dumped the crap we had with us then rushed back to my old apartment. We started throwing everything we saw into boxes and sealing them up. I was panicking. I tend to think I never have enough time to do everything I want to do. Let’s not get into the deeper psychological reasons behind that right now. So I’m panicking and Chrissy, the ever calm one, kept saying, “Veronica! You have a lot of stuff to do but everything you’re thinking of, in reality, only takes five minutes to do. We have enough time.” She was right but I was still freaking out on the inside. 

   The movers came around 7 and I was moved out of my old apartment and into my new apartment by 8:30. These guys were fast and awesome and did a fantastic job. But as much as I loved the movers, I give all the credit to Bill and Chrissy. They kept me laughing when all I really wanted to do was flip out. Chrissy unpacked my entire kitchen, Bill helped moving boxes and bookcases and lamps and everything else. They made the day fun and easy instead of stressful and manic which is usually my default settings in these situations. 
It’s Saturday now, so I’ve been in this apartment for not even 48 hours and I’ve managed to unpack the entire place, my Dad hung most of my pictures, I bought a sofa and loveseat (to be delivered next Saturday), and a coffee table and end table which my Mom and I put together (after Bill helped carry them into the apartment). This is the first living room set I’ve ever purchased and it’s mine. It’s my taste and I used my money and it’s going into my apartment. No more hand me downs. I’m finally at a place in my life where I can afford to buy nice things. I can afford to invest in real furniture. It’s an amazing feeling.

   The night I moved in, my friends Greg, Derek, and Chuck came over. And Greg walked in and said, “Living the dream, Veronica!” He also said, “This is a nice kitchen to learn to cook in, Veronica!” I’m ignoring that part and focusing on the “living the dream” part. 

   Living the dream. Usually whenever someone compliments the status of my life, I thank them and try to change the subject as quickly as possible. One reason being, compliments in general make me uncomfortable. The other reason being, every time someone compliments my life, I can’t help but think about how I’m still not a published author. I haven’t even had time to write on my website because of moving and work being crazy right now and it really bothers me. So I usually discredit anyone who says kind things about my life because there’s still a huge part missing. But I’ve come to the realization, no matter where I am in life, there might always be a part that’s not quite right. Whether it be my writing or a relationship or a job, or whatever. It’s never all going to fall into place but in comparison to where my life has been in the past…yeah, I’m living the dream.

   When all my friends were over Thursday night, I looked at them and felt so incredibly grateful. For everything. I’m grateful to my parents for raising me to be an independent woman and for always working hard for what I want. I’ve been on my own for three years and without feeling the constant support of my parents, I doubt I would have made it. I’ve had two amazing jobs, the first being a legal book editor and now my job as a technical writer. I love the people I work with and I enjoy my job. My current job allows me to save money, move into a bigger place, buy furniture and live comfortably. And my friends, my wonderful friends, are the biggest part of my life. Bill and Chrissy had just come back from vacationing, they’re on their last week of summer vacation and they spent so much of their time helping me move and settle in. Then there’s my boys: Derek, Greg, Chuck, and Tommy. These guys listen to me rant and they help me when I have completely shitty days by inviting me over to sit on their roof and relax. Greg, Chuck, and Tommy also did me a huge favor by taking my second hand couch, ottoman, end tables, kitchen table, chairs, and mirror for their place. 

   Now, let’s reassess. Almost 26 years old, living in a bigger apartment with my newly purchased furniture and working a job I love. An amazing, supportive family I love immensely. And the best friends I could ever ask for in this life. 

   Yeah, I am living my dream. It’s about time. 

Cecil the Lion and All the Other Animals

          Sometimes I really hate the world we live in. I watch people being mistreated/murdered by the police, a man shoots up a movie theater as James Holmes awaits sentencing for doing the same thing. Then I find out a dentist shoots a lion with a bow and arrow, allows him to bleed out for 40 hours, then shoots him again (killing him), beheads and skins him. A lot of people are up in arms about this because the lion is only 13 years old and Oxford University has been studying Cecil the lion for years. But even if this lion wasn’t famous or beloved, he was still a living, breathing creature and he deserved a full life.

            If you don’t know much about what goes on in the wildlife community- if you don’t know about the ivory trade, poaching, SeaWorld’s many offenses, or what is done to elephants in the circus- please educate yourself. You can google all of these things or you can follow various celebrities who are also activists and they provide a lot of information on their Facebooks and Twitter accounts. For instance: Ricky Gervais (@rickygervais), Holly Marie Combs (@H_Combs), and Leonardo DiCaprio (@LeoDiCaprio), or go to TheDoDo.com every day and read, read, read. They all provide petitions and accurate information on animal cruelty.

            We’re losing our animals because people with too much money are bored and looking for something to make themselves feel better about their lives. Unfortunately, they’re doing so at the cost of animals. Hunting, poaching, captivity- they’re all forms of killing in some way or another. I’ve signed countless petitions, I’ve donated money when I can afford to, but most importantly I keep myself educated on what’s really going on in the world. We can’t keep pretending like our animals aren’t being killed on a regular basis.

            When you hear about an animal being killed, share the article, retweet it, talk about it in any way you can. Make sure you are always, always outraged by it.

           We cannot let this become our normal.

First Time Viewing: Jurassic Park

         I just watched Jurassic Park for the first time. Shocking, I know, because I do love Spielberg and his movies. But I have a problem watching movies where the animals turn against the people. It upsets me. In fact, my parents to this day make fun of me because of how terrified I was of the movies Buddy and Mighty Joe Young. I don't even remember what they were about and I remembering EVERYTHING about movies I like. My brain has seriously blocked out those two movies.

    Anyway, while I was watching I would take brief moments to pause and text my friend Bonnie. She recently watched all the Jurassic Park movies last weekend. Then I figured I should stop because it's the 4th of July and she's probably busy. But I remember the last four things I yelled out in my apartment and put those down here too. Maybe some people will find this unintentional commentary funny but in fact, I was scared out of my friggin mind watching this movie. And there's random thunder out tonight and you know what, people? Thunder sounds a hell of a lot like a T-Rex heading for my apartment!

    Here are my texts to Bonnie and random thoughts I yelled out loud in my apartment. By the way, MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW!

I want a baby velicopraptor.

They just started the tour. Duckface from Full House was the kid in the beginning! At least I think it was him. And the old man's grandson is from one of my favorite childhood movies, Radio Flyer.

I PREFER THE T-REX IN TOY STORY OVER THIS MONSTER

The old man is way too fucking calm while his grandkids are running around with loose dinosaurs.

That fucking thing that killed the fat guy (Newman from Seinfeld) scared the shit out of me.

These dinosaurs are disgusting with all the goo they keep spewing.

I love the young girl, she asks the right questions. "Are they meat eaters? Are they meat-a-saurs?

Jeff Goldblum's character is great. When the T-Rex first got out he was like, "I'm tired of being right all the time."

No way, that kid could survive the car going into the tree. All he did was vomit? He should be dead.

THE FUCKING RAPTORS GOT OUT!

My face exactly.

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

JESUS CHRIST!

Did I just see a snake?! Why is a snake in a dinosaur park!?

THE COMPUTERS ARE SO SLOW! WORK FASTER!

I no longer want a velociraptor.

So wait...IT'S OVER?!

WE JUST LET THE T-REX HAVE RUN OF THE PLACE?

    No, but seriously, people. That was the end? It was a great movie but that was the end?! The T-Rex just gets run of island? Is this why there are two other movies? I'm going to have to watch the two other movies, aren't I? 

    Fine, you've convinced me. I'll watch the other two.

My Teen Years Through Film

            I don’t remember exactly when I first watched The Breakfast Club. I’m pretty sure I was 13 or 14 and it was probably the cut up version on TV first then I bought the DVD and saw the uncut version. By the way, only EVER watch the uncut, uncensored version of The Breakfast Club (TBC), otherwise it’ll be two hours of terrible voice overs saying, “Flip you!”

            The Breakfast Club did something for me though. It brought me into the world of the Brat Pack. The world of John Hughes. I still live in those worlds today. I can barely go a month or two without watching a Hughes movie. But TBC will always be my favorite with Some Kind of Wonderful following in as a close second.

            One of the reasons I loved the movie so much was because I identified with it, as I think everyone does at one point or another. Whether you identify with the kids, Vernon or Janitor Carl, there was someone for everyone. I always considered myself a mix of Allison and Brian. The Basket Case and the Brain. The invisible smart one. Except TBC showed me, maybe I’m not invisible.

            A few months ago, they released TBC back in theaters for its anniversary and of course, I bought tickets the second I could and went with Kait. Being in a movie theater has always been one of my favorite parts of life. It’s an experience seeing a new piece of cinema for the first time. But this time was different in a great way.

            Sometimes people look at me oddly because of my enthusiastic passion for a book, movie or TV show. It’s the same as some people feel about art or music. When I walked into the movie theater to watch The Breakfast Club, it was the first time ever knowing everyone inside was there for the same reason. We all share the same love and respect for The Breakfast Club and John Hughes. From teenagers to couples in their 50s and 60s and we were all there because at one point in our lives we were a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess or a criminal. And sometimes we still are these titles. But that night we all sat in detention again and we all laughed and choked back tears and fell in love with brilliant film making all over again.

            My Dad once said to me when I was a teenager watching TBC, “When you’re a kid, you identify with the kids but when you’re an adult, you’ll understand where Vernon is coming from.”

          Let me tell you something, I pray to god that never happens. I never, ever want to lose the piece of me that identifies with those kids. There are people in this world who never really grow up. They never lose the part of themselves that remembers what high school was really like. They never lose “teen speak” and they never forget what it felt like to be a teenager. John Hughes was one of those people. The everlasting teenager. I like to think I’m one of those people too.

           High school wasn’t fun for me, it hurt a lot of the time and you couldn’t pay me enough to go back. But it’s the piece of time I tend to write about in my stories. It’s the section of my life, I reflect on and twist and turn and bring to life in my own writing. Never will we feel so deeply, so completely the way we did in high school when all our senses, our emotions, our hormones were heightened to their fullest extent. In high school, you have your highest highs and lowest lows. It makes it interesting to write about because it’s something we’ll most likely never experience again in such a short period of time (even though those four years feel like a lifetime when you’re there).

         John Hughes has some of the best quotes in his movies. For example TBC:

        Allison: It’s inevitable.

        Claire: What is?

        Allison: When you grow up your heart dies.

        Think about that for a second. I have spent so much time dissecting that line. “When you grow up, your heart dies.” How terrible to believe in such a thing? How terrible must it have been for John Hughes if he at some point in his life believed growing up meant your heart dies? How terrible for me when I was 14 to think, holy shit, it’s so true. I know adults who have lost their hearts…some who never had them in the first place. This line is one of the reasons I hold on to certain things. It’s why I love celebrating birthdays and holidays and Christmas more than anything. It’s why I still love and watch Disney movies and teen movies. I don’t want my heart to die. As much as I love TBC and Allison as a character, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure my heart never dies.

         One of my other favorite John Hughes lines is from Some Kind of Wonderful:

                                                                                                            Okay, several quotes from this one.

         Keith’s Dad: You’re only 18 years old, for Christ’s sake!

         Keith:  Then I’m 19 then I’m 20! When does my life belong to me?!

         This was a big one for me growing up. I’ve always been a pretty independent person. I don’t like being told what to do or where my life should be heading or how to handle a situation. I don’t like being asked incessant questions about my life. I’m a very open person so if I want you to know something, I’ll gladly volunteer the information. When I was 19, 20, 21 and still living at home I couldn’t stand the questions, “Where’d you go? Who’d you see? What did you do? When are you coming back?” I swear to god, I used to yell, “SHUUUUUUUT UP!” in my head constantly. One of the many reasons I think people should move out of their parents’ houses faster because having too many adults in one house can cause terrible discourse. So I always used to think when does my life belong to me? When can I stop catering to everyone around me? When can I stop going to school? When can I stop doing jobs I have to do and do something I WANT to do? When can I live on my own and do what I want when I want and how I want it. I finally reached that level three years ago when I became an editor at my old company and finally moved out of my parents’ house. Here it is. This is the life that finally belongs to me and me alone and it’s phenomenal.

        And of course, there’s this beauty from Ferris Bueller:

        Ferris: Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

        I saw something on the internet the other day, it said something like, “We all wanted to be Ferris but I’m pretty sure we all turned into Camerons”. So, so true. Ferris has a point though. I’m going to be 26 in a couple months. TWENTY SIX. I couldn’t even fathom being twenty six when I was a teenager. I wished for it, prayed for it but couldn’t really picture it. And honestly, me at 26 isn’t all that different from 16 year old me. Still have the same taste in movies and books. Still have the same best friends. I live alone now and have a better job and tend to have way less drama and way more wedding invitations coming my way.

       I’m not saying 26 is old, it’s not. I’m not naïve enough to say I’m getting old. But then I’ll read something in the news about someone my age dying from a heart attack or cancer or something equally as terrible and that’s when Ferris comes back to me. We have no clue when our time is up on this planet. And I have no clue what happens after we die which is why when my friends suggest we do something new or different, I’m hesitant but I’ll do it. I want to jump out of plane and go zip lining and see other parts of the world. I don’t want to miss it. I don’t want to be 50, 60, 70 or 80 and look back and think I never saw anything in this world. Never did anything. It would break my heart.  

       So basically what I’m saying is, I live my life off of the advice from fictional 80s movie characters. I’m pretty okay with it actually. Fictional role models tend to be better than some real life ones. This post was originally just supposed to be about The Breakfast Club and how it changed my life. And it did change my life, in the best possible way. It gave me the 80s. A decade I missed out on by being born at the tail end of 1989. I love 80s music and film and pretty much everything originating from the 80s except maybe the hair styles.

        These 80s movies helped shape and form who I am. They gave me an outlet when I desperately needed one. They gave me friends when all of mine were out drinking on the weekends and I rather be at home. They gave me brilliant film making and beautifully written scripts. They gave me actors whose careers I have followed my whole life. I’m no longer a teenager and my love of these movies comes from a different place in my heart. When I was younger, I loved them because they showed me I wasn’t alone and life wouldn’t always be like high school.

         Now, I watch them because sometimes I need to be reminded of those times to be able to appreciate my life now.

        Well that and because Judd Nelson, Emilio Estevez, Rob Lowe, and Eric Stoltz were incredibly attractive in the 80s.

         My point is, ladies and gentleman, movies, books, art and music, they all shape our lives in some way or another. John Hughes and The Brat Pack have my teen years. Maybe next time I’ll go into what shaped my childhood or young adulthood: Disney movies and the gangster genre. Or I’ll talk about the summer when I went through all the movies on the top shelf of the bookcase I was “too young” to watch but did anyway. What a great summer.

         In the meantime, I urge you all to go back to your favorite teen movies and watch them. Whether they were John Hughes movies or something else, have yourself a very nostalgic weekend.

Happy 4th of July!

Dreaming in Reruns

                                                                                                                   Dumbledore always gets it.

Right before I go to sleep, I try to think about what I want to dream about that night. Whether it be about a guy or a funny memory or something I wish to happen that weekend. I do this because I suffer from pretty bad nightmares and sometimes this exercise helps keep them away. Last night, however, I had no such luck because right before I fell asleep my brain decided it wanted to think about every interaction I’ve ever had with another human being.

On nights like this, when I can’t sleep and my brain won’t stop going, I tend to let it run. I want to see what it comes up with and try to figure out why I’m thinking about this specific thing right now. When my brain decides it wants to stay up, it thinks about three major things: Death, Embarrassment, and Anger (sometimes all three of these things interconnect).

For death, my brain goes back over every death I’ve experienced starting with my Grandpop when I was 13, going through my friend’s parents, to great Aunts, and finally on my most recent one with my Mom’s cousin. Usually my brain likes to revisit the funerals, think about how people handle them, how people grieve compared to how I grieve. Not saying one or the other is better but really thinking about it for the sheer fascination of how everyone is different in this department.

The other part of death my brain likes to think about is future deaths. Sometimes when I can’t think of anything else to write, I write eulogies for people I know. Sounds morbid I know but when you have writer’s block and can’t think of anything creative to write about, you write about what you know. I know my people and I know why they’re amazing, so I write their eulogies…Christ, that sounds terrible but whatever it’s what I do. I probably think about death more so than most people, not really sure why. I read a lot of books involving death as a teenager, right after my Grandpop died, trying to understand it or trying to deal with it, who knows? I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that if I think about death a lot, if I picture the funerals of the people I love, if I can fully transport myself into that situation years before it ever happens, then maybe when it does happen I’ll be prepared to deal with it. I know that’s not logical or true but it’s how I try to justify it to myself. Think about it, analyze it, deal with it and I’ll be prepared for when it happens.

After running through all the death, my brain said, “Let’s have a marathon of all your most embarrassing moments!”

                                                                                                                                 Mulan- My favorite

Oh goody, my favorite. For those of you who don’t know me, my embarrassment bar is set very low. If I say something even slightly stupid, I remember it YEARS later and it plays over again in these horrible brain montages of my life. If I DO something embarrassing, act moronically or somehow end up in a situation where I look stupid, I never forget it. My brain starts with something little like, the time I cut my own bangs in grade school. Then we move onto bigger things, the time I tripped and fell in front of a bunch of people…oh wait, that’s happened multiple times and my brain shows me each and every time.  But to me, the most embarrassing things to happen to me in my life are when I say something and immediately regret it. No one else may notice or think what I said is ridiculous or stupid but I do and it silently tortures me for so long. You would think for someone who considers every situation from every angle and stages conversations in her head constantly would be able to predict the outcome of anything she says. Incorrect. A lot of tossing and turning and slapping my hands over my face to try and force away the memories, my brain moved on to anger.

Anger is a tricky one.

Most people think if I start running my mouth, that’s when I’m really angry. Incorrect. When I’m running my mouth, I’m annoyed, I’m ticked, I’m a bit peeved. It’s when I become silent, it’s when you cannot get a word out of me, that’s when you should worry. That’s when my anger has reached a level so high I cannot verbally communicate it with someone. I have no problem saying how I feel, granted I prefer to write how I feel but if you want me to say it, I will. Very easily. So when my words stop, when my silence is the only sound filling the room, that’s when I’m done. Big fights, really big fights, I’ve only had with a few people over the years. And even those fights, only one or two have ended with me never speaking to the person again. Most people might reflect on those instances and regret cutting those people out, I truly do not. I know who is toxic to my life and who isn’t and I do not regret ending relationships with certain people, not even a little. Do I wish things could have turned out differently? Of course, everyone does but I wouldn’t go back and change what happened.

Death, embarrassment, and anger. Over and over. Round and round. Until next thing I know it’s 4 in the morning and I’m still awake. I know why I pick the worst reruns of my life to go over. I’ve felt weird all week. You know those weeks I’m talking about. The ones where every little thing someone says annoys you.  Little things just piss you off and then you think about all the little things that happened this week and it becomes one big pain in the ass so you’re just constantly saying over and over again, “I hate people”. Or is that just me? I think I uttered that phrase a hundred times this week. It happens when I spend too much time on TheDodo.com and find myself loving animals way more than I like humans.

It’s difficult to explain why I was like this all week. Sometimes I think my life is going really well and yet I feel nothing towards it. What the outside world considers having your life together, doesn’t always feel that way to the individual. Sometimes looking at what you have just reminds you of everything you may not have in your life. Don’t get me wrong, I am very grateful for everything I have and I work my ass off to have it. There are those one or two aspects of life though, they are always just out of reach and of course those are the ones we choose to dwell on. Not all the time, I’d be unbearable if I was like this all the time. But nights like last night, after weeks like this past week, it all catches up and I have to work through it in order to get back to being grateful and happy.

 I was in a funk and last night my brain wanted to go through every possible reason why. I’m not sure I figured it out completely. I think it was really just an excuse for me to write because I haven’t in a while. But I did pose a very important question to a few of my friends this week. I asked, “Do you think it’s impossible to be completely happy?” A buddy of mine gave me the best answer. Here it is:

“No way. I mean you’re never gonna be happy all the time. We’re not robots. I think life’s all about the feelings we get and all the stuff that makes us human. If happiness outweighs everything else then I think that’s technically complete happiness.”

And with that, I hope you all have a really great weekend.

Writing a Query Letter

           A couple months ago, I finished a collection of short stories for a young adult audience. I asked a few people with different backgrounds to read them. Those people liked the stories and were very kind and helpful in their comments and notes to help make the stories even better. I used to be terrible with taking criticism for my writing, mostly in high school and a little bit in college. Took me a while to realize the only reason they’re telling me what’s wrong is so I can fix it and make my writing even better. It’s not a personal attack on me or my writing. Constructive criticism is actually awesome even it does give me an ulcer waiting for it.

           Anyway, now it’s time to start sending them out. I chose a couple different stories and sent them to about 30 literary magazines. Unfortunately, none of them were picked but I was told by former teachers this would happen because that’s the way this business goes. Some of my rejection letters were incredibly kind though, complimenting my work in a way I could tell they actually read it and liked it but it wasn’t the right fit for their magazine. But I keep writing and I keep trying.

           I also started sending query letters to literary agents…after doing pretty extensive research into what makes a good query letter. Quick note, I’m not an expert by any means and you should do your own research, this is just my point of view. Also, you should research the person you send your query letter too. Check out the literary agency’s website and look at all the agents and what they’re looking for in a manuscript. Find the one you think would be the best fit for you. For example: I look for agents who have an interest in young adult but I am also drawn to certain agents if they mention they like Doctor Who or any of my other pop culture interests because we might mesh a little better. I look for agents who in their little paragraph on the websites can capture my attention. Then I try to do the exact same thing in my query letter to them. Now back to the letter.

           For those of you unfamiliar with the term, a query letter is kind of like a cover letter you would send with a resume. You write about your manuscript, how many words is it, what genre is it, and then you write a hook. A hook would be like a thesis statement almost. In college, a thesis statement summarized your whole paper and your point in one or two sentences. Don’t crucify me if that definition is slightly off because most of my papers were always lacking in the thesis department. A hook in a query letter is something to really grab the agent. You want this to be the sentence they read and think, “I want to know more”. Coming up with a hook is difficult for me just like coming up with a thesis statement was always difficult. Mostly because I find it hard to summarize long pieces of writing in only one or two sentences.

           After the hook, I quickly summarize the stories as a whole and explain how they’re interconnected with one another. This is a little like what you read on the back cover of books. At least, that’s how I see it. I write what I would want the back of my book to say. Next up, you talk about yourself. Which is weird. Kind of like writing your online dating profile but tone down what you like doing on a Friday night and play up your accolades from school and work. This where I quickly write about my degree in English Literature, the personal narrative I wrote and had published in my University’s Lit Magazine, Folio, and the paper I presented at the SEPCHE conference about the gangster genre of film. That’s all I have, folks. I was on the Dean’s List once but hate to break it to you, no one gives a crap about that after college. I worked as a book editor at a legal publishing company and now I’m a technical writer but again, this doesn’t really matter. The only thing that matters is the work I’m sending out now.

            In the last few sentences of my query, I talk directly to the literary agent. I tell them why I believe we would make a good fit together. I explain to them why I felt compelled to write my stories, why they mean so much to me. I try to convey how much I believe in my work and why they should take a chance on me. And then I thank them for their time and consideration. And after all that, I have a mini panic attack and hit send. No, I’m not even kidding. Hands actually shake every time I hit send. Then it’s off into the world, containing everything I’ve ever wanted my entire life.

           The possibility of being represented.

           The possibility of being published.

           The possibility of being able to call myself an author.

Confessions of a Single 25 Year Old Woman

Note: I wrote this when I was 23 but I've gone over it again and updated it a bit. Whether these are still my confessions or not doesn't make them any less important. 23 year old me poured her heart out and I'm sure she wants me to share (or she's cursing me off, whatever).

Usually when I write for my blog, I try to write about something everyone can relate to in some way and I write about situations my friends are in. But today, it’s going to be about me and my feelings as of late. Maybe someone will be able to relate to it but that’s not what I’m focusing on. Sometimes, when I don’t write for a while, my head just gets filled and my emotions run really high and it feels like if I don’t write it down soon my head will explode.

Here’s a little background, like I said before, all of my friends (with the exception of 4 guys and 1 girl) are in relationships. They are all dating, engaged, married, or practically married. I’m happy for all of them, nervous for some, and envy very few of them. It’s never been a goal of mine to get married and have children; in fact it’s a conventional 1950s lifestyle that I’ve rebelled against for years and years. For some reason, the thought of marriage and being a mother makes me anxious and almost physically ill. Even the idea of spending the rest of my life attached to another person boggles my mind.

When I think about what I want out of life there are only a few things I desire: to write, to travel, to take care of my family, and to live comfortably. Most of the time, when I think about myself being older, it’s only me in the picture. I never needed anyone else. And if we were to go into the psychological reasons behind this thinking it would probably be because I’ve always been severely independent. My whole life I’ve felt like no one could hear me or no one would listen (besides some family) and yet I talk nonstop. I’m a chatterbox. My Grandpop used to pick me up from school if I had a half day and he would take me to Burger King and then we would go home. He would tell my Mom, “School must be torture for her. She doesn’t stop talking from the second I pick her up.” But you know what? He listened to me.

 So…I write. Paper has to listen to me, it has no other choice. As I was saying, I never pictured myself with anyone else before…except Leonardo DiCaprio, he might the only guy to change my mind. But now, with all my friends paired up, a quote from Sex and the City keeps popping into my head (stay with me, guys). It was Carrie Bradshaw’s 35th birthday and she wasn’t seeing anyone at the time. She was sitting in the café with her three best friends and she said, “I’m lonely. The loneliness is palpable.” I never thought of myself as being lonely. I LOVE living on my own. I love coming home to absolute and complete silence. I love having control of my TV all the time and being able to decorate and rearrange things at will without having to ask anyone if it’s okay. Not to say, living alone is perfect. Night still freaks me out from time to time. But other than that, living on my own is awesome.

 Where does the loneliness come in, you ask? Well when I go out with my friends and I become the third, fifth, or seventh wheel, that’s where it comes in. I love my friends, they know I love them and I would do anything for each and every one of them. But even when I’m in a room filled with them, I still feel utterly alone because at the end of the day, when they all go home, they have someone to talk to, someone to listen to them. I’m probably not painting my friends in a nice light which isn’t my intention. I know there are people I can go to talk to and they listen but none of them really get it because they all have someone. No one really gets the loneliness because none of them are alone. I’m not saying if I had a boyfriend it would solve all these problems, I’m not naïve enough to believe that load of bull. What I’m saying is, I miss when my friends were just my friends and not my friends plus *insert name here*.

 Sure, sometimes I can pull them away from their boyfriends for a night but there’s usually one that wants their significant other to come. I don’t know why, they generally just sit there and say nothing like a block of wood. (I’m aware I’m probably insulting people here but I’m telling the truth).  However, a lot of the time, they never go anywhere without their boyfriends or girlfriends. Don’t get me wrong, I like a lot of their significant others, they’re good guys and gals and I enjoy hanging out with them but I miss my friends. I miss when everyone was single at the same time and nothing else mattered. Our twenties are supposed to be fun, right? Staying out all night, drinking, or just having a good time with your friends? Gotta tell ya, those times are rare these days. Now it’s trying to schedule time with your friends between everyone’s jobs or trying to get them to leave the confines of their homes for a few hours on the weekend.

I guess one of the upsides of having a significant other is someone is obligated to listen to you. No one is obligated to listen to me. And I’m not saying this to throw a pity party for myself; I hate people that do that shit. I’m saying it because this is how I actually feel. I feel sad sometimes when my friends tell me all the things they’re doing with their boyfriends or girlfriends. Because it’s the stuff we all used to do together. This is me really nostalgic for when times were easier and life wasn’t complicated and no one was engaged or married or in seriously committed relationships. I understand things change and people grow up, I just didn’t expect it to come this early in life. Truthfully, I don’t believe I’m ready for it.

 This is the part I think most of you have been waiting for in this whole entry. Do I wish I had a boyfriend? Occasionally. If I were to have a boyfriend, I would more or less like him to be part time. Which probably sounds horrible but it’s the honest to god truth, I hate clingy people, I hate people that have to text someone 24 hours a day because trust me, you have NOTHING interesting to say ALL DAY LONG, neither do I. I would hate someone being in my apartment all the time. I’m not a romantic person, I don’t like roses or candles or any of that junk. Romance in my book is you shutting up for two hours so we can watch a movie then AFTERWARDS discuss it. Does it frustrate me that I can’t find a boyfriend? Of course it does, I’m a woman, it’s something we spend more time thinking about than we admit. Even me, the person who thinks relationships are awkward and weird and pointless 75% of the time, occasionally wants a boyfriend. You know, at 15 years old, I thought by 25 someone would love me, someone has to by then right? Well no, that didn’t happen. Here’s the part where it becomes a little intense:

 Growing up, I never had a lot of self-confidence in the way I look. Bullied through high school didn’t help either. I’ve always had a pretty good sense of myself though. I knew I wanted to be a writer at an early age, I knew movies would always be my second love behind writing; I know I’m sarcastic, and I can be harsh sometimes. But I also know that I’m a really good listener and pretty good therapist when my friends need one. My best friend used to call me Oprah for god sake. So I always just assumed once I became comfortable with how I look then everything would fall into place. But when you have gorgeous friends and cousins who look like models, it’s hard to be happy with how you look. “When will my reflection show who I am inside?” Perfect lyric for this paragraph from the movie Mulan.

 However, within the past few years, I’ve started to care less about what other people think of me. I’m 25, I write, I’ve worked as an editor and a technical writer and I do a damn good job, I’m self-sufficient and I’m a pretty good person. And you know what? I like the way I look. I like that I have breasts and hips and an ass. Are they slightly bigger than average? Damn straight and guess what? I’m proud of it. Are there still parts of my body I’m not comfortable with? Of course, everyone has those and it’s something everyone has to come to terms with eventually. My point is this, you know that saying, “You have to love yourself before others can love you”? I call bullshit. Here’s why: I really do love who I am in my life right now. I have my life together and I’m finally, FINALLY, comfortable when I look in the mirror. So uh…where exactly is the love?

 I’ve come to believe everything having to do with love and relationships is completely random and up to fate. It has nothing to do with where you are in your life or if you love yourself or not. It’s a day to day random occurrence that no one has any control over, ever. And I believe if every single girl thinks of it in those terms, then it’s a little easier to get through the day without beating herself up. Personally, I’m hoping to meet mine in Ireland, he’ll be rich, with a thick accent and we’ll live happily ever after. See that? That’s a joke because this post was really hard for me to write and I need the jokes like I need oxygen. There you go, folks. That was more of me than I have ever put out here before. Cherish it, ignore it, scoff or laugh at it, but do me a favor? Just listen when other people speak. It means a lot to them. 

Honesty

Quick Note: I wrote this a while back but it still rings true for me.

I used to have a really hard time being honest with people. Usually it was white lies I would tell but then as I became a teenager the lies became bigger. I would tell them for a few different reasons. The number one reason I would lie is because I wanted to make my life sound way more interesting than it actually is. I could never tell the lies to people like Chrissy or Kait because I’m too close to them and they would know. But to people at Huberts, to "friends" I didn’t see very often, they would get complete and utter lies and fabricated stories. Anything to make me sound like I was a normal teenager.

I didn’t want to be the nerd. I didn’t want to be the girl who stayed in every weekend. I didn’t want to be the bookworm or the freak who’s obsessed with movies and television. The loser. The loner. The freak with no friends. But that’s who I was to the girls at Huberts for two years before I started lying to them. Stupid made up stories just to get them off my back. To get them to stop making fun of me. To get them to shut the fuck up.

When my Mom was diagnosed, I stopped lying. My life, our lives, were no longer boring. I didn’t need to lie because my life now had “excitement” or “interest” whatever you want to call it. So I turned to honesty. Brutal honesty some would call it. I stopped caring what other people thought of how I lived my life. I preferred to go to the movies on prom night because I hated the people at Huberts and I didn’t want to spend any more time with them than I had to and I was damn proud to tell people. I preferred to read than drink from a keg in the woods and that’s okay. I preferred to sit and talk to my family for hours on end then sit in a basement and get high and that’s okay. It took me a long time to realize that.

I’m very honest when I tell someone how I feel about a situation or a person. Sometimes people get really mad at me. Some people won’t talk to me for days afterwards. Some people admire it. Some people act like they admire it but secretly hate me for it. I don’t let negative people stay in my life anymore. People call me harsh. People call me a bitch. People call me unforgiving. Honestly? I don’t give a shit. I rather not have someone constantly poison my mind with their horrible negative comments. It’s easier for me to cut people off. Sometimes I get upset about it. Most of the time, I get over it fairly quickly. 

 The person I have the hardest time being honest with is myself. Which sounds cliché but it’s true. I lie to myself all the time. Tell myself I’m okay, tell myself I can deal with certain situations, tell myself I don’t care as much as I do about someone. Sometimes they’re lies, other times they’re partial truths. I’ll play out different situations in my head over and over again, making sure I’ve planned out every conclusion to an occurrence possible. Half the time I don’t use any of them because I’ll be too scared to go into the situation in the first place. Or I won’t use them because it’s a made up situation. You see, I never really stopped lying in a way. I used to tell other people made up situations, made up stories. Now it’s something I’ve created in my head, a story, a scene, really. A scene I wrote, starred in, and directed. A scene to make my life seem more interesting in my own head. A scene to placate my boring reality. Sometimes I’ll go entire days where I’ll live in those scenes. Act them out over and over again. Mostly in my car when I’m driving, I’ll rewrite them, I’ll act them out in my head, rewrite, act it out, no, not perfect yet. Another rewrite, act it out. Still not right. Another rewrite. Act it out. Perfect. Finally. Next scene.

Probably seems utterly insane to normal people but I’ve always wanted my life to be like a movie. So if I have to live two lives, one in reality, and one in my head where things are easier, more fun, and interesting then that’s what I’ll do. That’s what I have to do for my own sanity. Be honest in reality, lie to myself in my imagination. It’s my normal and that’s okay.

My Love of Film

Movies. My absolute favorite thing in this world. I don’t remember the first movie I ever saw but I do remember the first movie that changed my life. It wasn’t The Outsiders or The Breakfast Club or To Kill A Mockingbird like most people think. It was Harriet The Spy. Because a movie turned me on to what I wanted to do for a career: write. Harriet wrote down everything she witnessed in life. Sometimes it got her in trouble but it kept her sane (much like all writers). The very first journal I have is a teddy bear journal with a lock on it and on the first page I wrote, “I am a spy.” I haven’t stopped writing since. Harriet gave me a career choice at a very young age and without me even realizing it. I used to credit wanting to be a writer to S.E. Hinton but the honest answer is, it was Harriet.

Movies have changed my life constantly over the years. The Godfather, Goodfellas, and The Departed gave me an increasingly freakish interest in the mob both Italian and Irish. Not to mention, those movies introduced me to a world of moral ambiguity. This man is a villain, he’s a murder and yet he’s charming and a family man and you forgive him of all his sins. Why? I have theories on it, in fact I presented an entire paper on it to strangers. It’s because of the writing, whether it was a script writer or an author. Someone used all the crimes society tells us are wrong and handed them to the most charming yet terrifying characters ever created.

The Outsiders, The Breakfast Club, Some Kind of Wonderful, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, and Pretty in Pink. They taught me: I am not alone in this world. "Things were rough all over, but it was better that way. That way you could tell the other guy was human too." They taught me it’s okay to be smart or a loner or a tomboy or a goof ball. These are not traits to be condemned, they are traits to be commended because you are different and you have to embrace the difference. Otherwise, you’ll fall into conformity. And being one of the many is a fate worse than death, in my opinion.

Mulan taught me I never have to hide who I really am. It’s okay if I don’t want to be a bride or a mother. No one is perfect and everyone has a different path in life, we just have to find it. The Fox and the Hound taught me no one can tell you who you’re going to be friends with in this world. It’s your choice. Friendship is incredibly delicate but it also takes very hard work to maintain. Never let someone else tell you who to talk to, who not to talk to, who to hang out with; this was an especially big lesson for me in high school.

Sleepers, A Bronx Tale, Catch Me if You Can, and This Boy’s Life are all based on real people and their stories. To know what other people live through gives me a chance to appreciate what I have and to also learn to sympathize and empathize with other human beings. These movies teach you to be compassionate because you never have any idea what someone else is going through in their life.

I could pick one movie and discuss it for hours. The characters, the setting, the plot then the behind the scenes things. The trivia, the goofs, the continuity errors.  These are the things that consume my “Mind Palace” (as BBC Sherlock Holmes would call it). I can access them at any moment in time. Someone can throw a quote out there and I can place it almost instantly. I’m not sure if there’s a name for my type of memory, it’s not photographic or eidetic, it’s something different. I can hear a song on the radio and tell you the exact scene from a movie it was in. I can quote things perfectly after only having heard them once or twice. I can hear a commercial and know immediately who is doing the voiceover. John Corbett is Walgreens and Applebees and Lisa Kudrow is Yoplait yogurt. These are the things my brain absorbs and holds dear. Facts, titles, quotes, names, voices, faces and scenes. Half the books I’ve read in life, I’ve read because they were movies too. The Help, Silver Linings Playbook, The Hunger Games, Harry Potter, Rumble Fish, That was Then, This is Now. All books, all movies. All in my head.

Finding someone else to talk about these things with is difficult. Sure everyone wants to have this conversation:

“Oh you saw it? How was it?”

“It was GREAT. It was like…”

“Oh cool, I’ll have to see it.”

And that’s it. Even after they see the movie, most people say it was great or it sucked. No one wants to talk about WHY it was great and WHAT made it great. No one wants to talk about the connections, the dialogue, the mannerisms an actor chose for one specific character. Breaks my heart because this is what my mind does. I break down movies, I look for facts, I read everything I can get my hands on about the movie, the actors, the director, the script. And yet, no one wants to hear anything more than “it’s good”. So I entertain myself. I sit in my apartment and I watch movies. I suggest movies to other people hoping it’ll spark some sort of conversation out of them.

Going to the movies is my form of Church. People get mad when I say that but I don’t care. It’s where I worship the writers, actors, producers, directors who are important to me. At least those people are real and tangible unlike “God”. Nothing gives me more pleasure than going to the movies, sitting in the darkened theater and being taken away. Being anyone and anywhere different from my actual life. Whether it’s the past, the present, or the future, it has to be better than what’s waiting for me outside those movie house doors.

The characters of movies are my best friends. The settings are all places I’ve traveled. The plots are a thousand lives I am allowed to live. The movies will always be my home.

Welcome

Welcome to my blog. I have anther one of these but I'm trying to put on my adult hat and have my own website.  I'll eventually transfer over some of the posts from my other blog. Also, I know this website isn't very fancy but I'm new to this so please excuse the simplicity. 

I talk a lot. Sometimes I touch on 8 different topics in a span of three minutes. My mind goes very quickly and can switch gears at the drop of a hat. Don't worry, you'll get used to it. The basics of my life and personality you can find in the About section of this website. This blog area will be reserved for thoughts, feelings, rants, hopes...basically you'll be seeing the world through my eyes.

I'm a lover of books, television, and film. I absorb pop culture constantly. I may not be able to tell you the name of a song or who sings it but if it was in a movie, I'll be able to tell you what movie and what scene of the movie.  My memory is selective and while I have retained nothing from 16 years of Catholic school math, I can remember lines from movies or TV shows I haven't watched in years. 

I hope you'll all enjoy my blog and my letters section (go check it out) and I hope you'll share what I have to say with your friends and family. The one thing I want to accomplish in my life is to help someone by using my words, to show them they are not alone in what they are thinking or feeling, to show someone else how much they matter in this world. Because you do matter, we all do. We all have a purpose, we just have to find it.

Maybe I can help.