The rabbit hole of OMGIMGONNADIEALONE!!

So… you know how when you get a virus or a lump and you start searching online for any and all medical advice and somehow fall down the WedMD rabbit hole and suddenly realize that you have stage 4 brain cancer and have 2 weeks left to live?  Well!!  The same thing happens when you start researching “dating” in your mid 30’s.  These are a few of the headlines I found:

1. After 35, you don’t get to be picky.
2. Why I’m okay being single.
3. Do men really want to date women in their 40’s?
4. The dating pool at 30:  (insert photo of mostly empty pool with green sludge floating in the bottom).
5. 9 mistakes you make in your 30’s
6. Larger dating pool means less thoughtful mate choices
7. Dating in  your 30’s: The Ticking Clock

The struggle is real.  I’ve been dating for less than 2 months.  Specifically I’ve gone on exactly 6 dates which was enough for me to realize that it’s excruciating!!   I would gladly throw in the towel but I paid $150 to fall in love and therefore feel this extraordinary sense of obligation to “see it through” because it worked for so and so.

Every one couples up in their 20’s, I did, and is mostly still happily married in their 30’s (SPOILER ALERT: I never got married, I got single).  Essentially I have to wait until my 40’s to start meeting age appropriate divorcees who are recently single again.  “Oh you’ll die when you see how dating has evolved from 2o years ago” says me in 10 years while explaining the now forgotten Tinder app.  The 30’s dating pool is Moses wandering through the desert for 40 days and 40 nights chasing one mirage after another.  When you get up close you realize he’s 25.  Or unavailable.  Or married.  Or crazy.  Which has me wondering, what the hell do people think about me and why I’m single??

LOL!!  Just kidding.  I don’t care. I’m sure most people either think, 1) gah dating most be horrible, how sad to be all alone, or 2) SHIT, I’d give anything to be single again and do whatever I want and sleep in for once and eat in quiet.  This is the greener grass theory.

Truthfully, I try NOT to drive my friends crazy with this, this, this…I don’t know, lack of attachment mostly because they’re all either planning their nurseries or their weddings and if they aren’t planning that, they’re changing diapers and going to bed pretending to have a headache.  Or they’re out doing the same things I’m doing: online dating or waking up after a night of too many whiskies and not enough food.

Why do we do it?   Why do we drive ourselves crazy trying to fit into any box, be it the single box or the married box?  Each, depending on the day and the person, have their ups and downs.  But we put this countless pressure on ourselves to be taken (not in the Liam Neeson sense…or maybe in the Liam Neeson sense??) or loved and at the end of the day there are many people waking up next to someone still feeling lonely.  Attachment doesn’t always mean love.

I decided to online date because, in truth, I want to have babies.  All the babies!!  And of course I want to find my lobster. But dating, I have discovered, does not make me happy.  It does not fill any “void” or sense of loneliness or sense of togetherness or accomplishment.  I do not feel power or strength from being a single person who dates.  SO… I guess with that said, I’m going to do me.  You do you, girl!!

Match.con

Ah a new year, a new opportunity to practice vulnerability, a time to put yourself out into the dregs of online dating and wait.  And wait.  And wait.  Here’s a quick run down of what 90% of match profiles will tell you about humans in Austin:

1. They love to run.
2. They love their dogs.
3. They are very healthy.
4. They love live music.  And tacos.  And running.  And biking.  And travel.  And snowboarding.
5. They are ALL outgoing and up for an adventure.
6. They are all funny and romantic and enjoy long walks in nature.
7. They all mostly love their careers, work hard, feel successful, I digress.

Here’s my rebuttal to your boring perfection:

1. I hate to run.  Like HATE to run.  Unless its for my life.  Or chocolate.
2. I’m only so so healthy.  I eat good.  I’ll order a salad.  And a side of fries.
3. I am totally up for an adventure, especially one outside of downtown Austin.  Rebel.
4. I don’t have a career.  I have passions I work hard at daily and a school schedule in which I prepare for but I currently work at a bar.  That is not my career. That is the vehicle which affords me the opportunity to pursue the things I love.  So please don’t ask me what my real job is.  I had a “real job” for 12 years and decided it wasn’t for me.  I’m flexible.
5. My dream job on the other hand, pool shark.  Or poker shark.  Fuck it, SHARK!
6. I legitimately am spontaneous but not at the risk of my job or learning or art or Game of Thrones.
7. I am also somewhat of a perfectionist who probably has unhealthy expectations of people.
8. I enjoy being alone ALOT and often think that if had I unlimited wine, jazz and a scribe, I could be alone forever.
9. Fact:  if I ever learn your first and last name, I will google you.
10. My room isn’t always clean.  I’m so carefree and spontaneous there are clothes on my chair, so wild I left a glass of water on my night stand for an entire day.

Because all those are truths too.

The worst part about chopping off my finger…

Is that when my friend comes to take me to the hospital, I’ll still be wearing my pajamas.  And not just any pajamas, my mumu.  It’s 2:45pm.

GOODBYE GONNA GO JUMP OFF A BRIDGE NOW!

How the hell do people stay motivated?  First, I’m suffering from the post vacation blues but don’t feel sorry for me, I was getting strung out and exhausted in Paris with two ladies I love.  HOWEVER, it’s that time of year when we all want to hibernate, eat, Christmas shop and binge watch on shows like Sons of Anarchy.  And go to party after party after party… Fun fact, I got home from my first of several Christmas parties last night at 5:30am.  Who the hell do I think I am?

I recently had a long conversation about motivation with a friend of mine, it’s ebbs and flows and the reasons for the aforementioned ebbs and flows.  I’m, ironically, my best when I’m my worst.  It’s only when I’m sinking faster than the Titanic that I actually get my ass outta bed, meditate, practice yoga, juice, read, pray.  Le sigh.

Tina introduced me to the concept of “dynamic tension” in relation to motivation.  Essentially dynamic tension is created when you are truthful and clear about where you are in life verses where you want to be.  If you’re at your worst or furthest from your goal, the tension between the two places makes you work that much harder or feel that much worse therefore motivating you to get your ass movin’.  Once you’re feeling a little better or even a smaller step closer to your goals, the tension eases up and so do our motivations or actions.    It makes the most sense ever.

Ok great, now we know why we’re still laying in bed BUT HOW, PRAY TELL, DO WE GET OUT?!  The article goes on to mention baby steps which to me is somewhat vague and only reminds me What About Bob.  But truthfully, Bob had it right.  He knew to get anywhere, in his case literally, each action or baby step was simply one step towards his goal even if they were so ridiculous.  So here is something I am going to do as not Bob: 1) write down where I am AND write down where I want to be, specifically, in all aspects of my life, 2) remind myself everyday that I’m not there yet (my old acting teacher told me that you’re never there there),  3)  liter my home with post-its of inspirational quotes, 4) keep working on my vision “board” in the career corner of my feng shui bedroom.  My “board” is a rope with photos of inspiring people, ideas on career, ticket stubs, art, etc each paper clipped on.  I like to be able to change things out and it looks better than a stupid poster board.

I don’t know you guys, it’s all trial and error!  I’m sure I’ll blog about how incredible I’ve been at doing all these wonderful things in a month and then two months later post another article in my mumu at 3pm!  But ya know, life.

Crazy is as crazy dates!

We all have that friend who constantly dates the crazies!! My wonderful friend (who I won’t name) could’t get away from them.  Each time he met a new lady we all knew she was going to be crazy.  And most of them never let us down.  Why?  Well… hate to say this but crazy is as crazy dates.  My friend is one of the biggest hearted men I’ve met.  He’s sensitive, artistic, creative, musical, funny and also a little bit insane.  But show me an artist who isn’t and you’ll show me a liar.  Artists of all kinds are forced to reckon with themselves daily; unearth their demons, face their fears, put themselves out there in a way most folks shudder to think of.  Artists are constantly putting our hearts into the universe to be judge and thrown back in our faces.  Becoming that raw in art, in life or in love will leave you in a particularly touchy place.  If you’re ever been inclined towards anything on the negative or depressive end of nature, art will make you crazy.  This is exactly why most artist need a great therapist; to stay afloat when everything is trying to drown you, when looking in the mirror is a horrifying endeavor.  When we find similarities in others we recognize in ourselves, we understand that, it’s comforting, it makes you feel less crazy.

I recently started questioning my “choices” in crazy because for some reason, like most of the “men” in my life, I couldn’t escape the crazy.  Finding another crazy, or someone more inclined to crazy than myself, is always SUPER FUN!  And I mean that very genuinely.  Of course crazy comes in an array of colors but crazy in and of itself is still a duck.  My particular crazy at this particular time came in the shape of a Mexican stand off between where I wanted to go and the paralysis I faced in simply getting out of bed, his was a super healthy id and a super delusional ego.  Or scratch that, verse it.  I digress…

So…it came at almost no shock to recently discover that I’m for sure 100% crazy.  Not in the I’m-gonna-drive-by-your-house-crying variety or even of the Facebook stalking variety and most certainly not in the I’ll-jump-from-this-roof-if-you-don’t-love-me crazy.  But crazy in my definition of love.  Love to me is easy (of course I know it isn’t all easy but for the sake of falling into love, it should be pretty damn easy).  It just is.  It’s uncomplicated.  It’s either yes or no.  Sure it hurts and it’s scary and it’s often times incredibly confusing but when there exists the possibility of love, then love it is.  But we complicate the shit out of everything else so why not a basic emotion as well.

Love has taken on an entirely new identity.  Love isn’t just holding hands and sharing an ice cream sundae anymore.  Love is THE REST OF YOUR LIFE AND OMG AM I READY FOR THIS AND IF NOT THEN I NEED TO DECIDE RIGHT NOW ON OUR FIRST DATE OR ELSE ILL MAKE AN EPICALLY BAD DECISION THAT’LL RUIN MY LIFE AND ANY OTHER POSSIBILITY OF LOVE AND IF THIS ISNT THE RIGHT ONE BUT I CHOOSE THIS NOW MAYBE ILL BE MISSING OUT ON THE RIGHT ONE LATER.  Guys, I mean actual men here, dating or loving or sex doesn’t mean that we want to tie you down and marry you and have kids and share a mortgage together!  Trust me, us ladies have SO MUCH MORE at stake that you could ever begin to wrap your complicated heads around.  We’re just taking you for a test drive, amiright girls?  When we decide, if we do, that marriage is something we’d like to partake in with you, you’ll know it.  For sure.  We’ll drag you kicking and screaming to Tiffany.  So can we all calm down for a minute and realize that dating or love or sex is just dating or love or sex right now.  That’s the black (or white) part of it.  It’s either YES we’re doing whatever it is we’re doing today or NO we aren’t doing any of that at all.

Too often I consider the weight of my text messages.  I’m certain that so many guys assume things or take sweet messages out of context and imagine they mean the heavy l-going-to-take-your-soul-then-your-401K.  From the very beginning I’m tiptoeing around being who I am out of fear that my sweet side, my flirty side, my smart assery will scare you little flowers away.

Love just is.  And if that simplicity makes me crazy, then….

****On publication of this post (which I wrote a couple months ago) I’ve weeded out most of the crazy from my  life and am feeling much less crazy myself.  FUNNY ISN’T, IT?!

 

The magical universe…or how I want the works.

Here’s ONE thing I learned when speaking to the universe about love:  you should be VERY specific with what it is you want exactly.  Because when you say things like “all I want is someone to dance with”, that’s ALL you get.  Of course he’ll be handsome and charming and fascinating and all those other fantastic things that make you want to dance with him in the first place but all he’ll be able to give you is a slow dance.  So why does it feel somewhat selfish to be too specific with our desires?  Are we afraid of being disappointed by not having more?

Truth is, we don’t often know what it is we do want.  We might have a short list of the things we think we need right now but I assure you, tomorrow, it’ll change.  I’ve always thought about love in terms of who that person is and what they’ll do and be motivated by and feel and think about life, the world, God and music.  I’ve never thought about love in terms of how it’ll make me feel.  That is a strange realization I came too very recently. I want all wondrous things in love but I also want someone who is going to make me feel loved and desired.

Yesterday marked the beginning of the new moon.  I put a lot of thought into the new moon and how it’ll affect my life.  And while thinking about the things I’d like, I realized that my love/life intentions are very broad.  All I wanted was an agent in Austin, I got an agent.  But I’m still an out of work actress.  FUNNY, AMIRIGHT?!?!

We need to ask for everything.  “I want it all!  There’s no harm in wanting it George because there’s not a chance in hell you’re gonna get it all anyway.  But if you don’t at least want it, you’ve got even less chance than that.”  That’s from the play Chapter 2 by Neil Simon, a semi-autobiographical play about his second life or second love.  It’s true, we aren’t going to get everything we want, it’s just the nature of life.  Having “everything” is boring and designed to disappoint you (if you somehow seem to be struggling with “having it all” as they say, snarf).  “Everything” means there’s no room for anything new or exciting.  “Everything” doesn’t allow room for change or growth.  When our only jobs as human beings is to grow and learn, “everything” stunts your life.  But honestly, no one has “everything”.  Even if you think you know people who have everything and even if they tell you they have everything, I assure you, they do not have everything.  They have what they need.

But there’s no harm in wanting everything because specificity is designed to suit your desires.  I’d like to win an SAG award and I’ll throw that in there for sure but ya know what, I’d be happy being a working actress AND THAT IS OKAY!  In fact, that’s better than okay because today, I’m still a waitress.  I’m a semi-healthy, loving, kind, generous person who has everything I need right now to teach me all about the things I will get tomorrow.  And having what I need in life IS everything!

How to get over an American man (Sorry American men):

1. Date a foreigner specifically one of the latin persuasion who speaks more than one sexy language.  Then make him talk to you in said languages.
2. Buy a floppy 70’s hat or something equally fabulous and pointless.  (I’m trying to justify strange purchases)
3. Remember that there are thousands of Italian men who would LOVE to date you and chances are they”ll be dressed WAY better anyhow.
4. Have a cup of tea with an American women in her 60’s who has an American son.  She’ll get it.
5. Re-design your feng sui love corner.  Switch that stupid nondescript Hallmark card out for a postcard from Paris.  The lovers bridge.
6. GET OFF TINDER!  FOR REAL NOW ILL WAIT WHILE YOU DELETE YOUR STUPID PROFILE!
7. Go to a sports bar during a college football game.  And just wait.  Until you crack.
8. Then go listen to jazz and drink wine.
9. Read this article, How To Fall In Love In 5 Minutes.
10. Remember that if he’s white, attractive, well spoken, charming, and American he could also be Ted Bundy.  You’re welcome, ladies!

*you’re welcome for the most amazing American gif EVER!

So… what are you doing with your life???

I’m asked that a lot.  Like a lot a lot.  From friends, from co-workers, from friends’ co-workers, from siblings, like everyone.  I get it.  I’m a 35-year-old waitress.  And I have a spiel to go with it.  I’m an actress, improviser, writer, blogger, beauty consultant, volunteer and I’m going back to school in January.  I must justify.  JUSTIFY it almost weekly.

In fact, in all honesty, in heaps of shame, I would not date myself.  If I saw me on Tinder, I’d swipe left because who at my age (my ripe old age) is a waitress (I’m working on this)?  On paper, I’m the Dallas Cowboys.  The worst bet in history.  But paper, from what I’ve discovered first hand, it’s the best illusion created.  I dated paper.  In fact, if you asked me two years ago what I was doing with my life… actually you wouldn’t ask me.  You’d know given my amazing job, my location, my relationship status, my creative endeavors you’d know that I was doing just fine.  But tonight, at 2am, I’m drinking a whiskey and writing about the night that lead up to now.  And I don’t have to get up until 3pm.  Truth is, I’ll wake up in 6 hours and work all day long.  But I’m drinking whiskey and listing to Ed Sheeran.  Life.  Fuck it.

But life… life is tricky.  We’ve all seen The Family Man starring Nic Cage.  “A fast-lane investment broker, offered the opportunity to see how the other half lives, wakes up to find that his sports car and girlfriend have become a mini-van and wife.”  THE HORROR!!!  Gah, what would happen if we didn’t have all the comforts of … money, security?  I don’t know… this?  You’d do what I’m doing now.  You’d start over from the beginning and try again.  Often the best bets are made when we don’t pass Go.  When we don’t get to to collect $200.  We must try again because sometimes Baltic Avenue is the BEST place to park a hotel.

What I’m planting, what I’m aspiring to do, I don’t know if or what will pan out.  Sure I could have gotten a job, a normal job and sat behind a desk to have the illusion of security or establishment.  I could date that guy and pretended to make sense to you but truth is, Id’ go crazy trying to fit into your idea.   I’ve planted thousand of seeds and see them sprouting at different rates and some not at all.  But I’d rather risk and fail than to have not risked at all. So basically I’m betting it all on black.  Or the Dallas Cowboys.  Because even if it doesn’t pay off, OR GOD WILLING IT DOES, i’ll either be a master genius or I’ll be right where I am right now, trying to figure it all out.

I’m absolutely humbled to be where I am in life but am endlessly grateful to be here at all.  I am blessed with any opportunity I’m given.  It’s not the best life, but it’s my life and I will make it fantastic because if you’ve met me you know fantastic is all I do!!  Drops mic, walks out.

 

Dear plants of the world,

Why do you hate me?  I rescued you from Home Depot and brought you to my beautiful art-filled charming apartment!!  I got you a new pot, bathed you in sunlight (or moderate sunlight depending) fed you, named you, loved you.  And just like all the other plants in my life, you want none of it.  Barbara Streisand (my lovely purple and green ivy) hated my apartment.  She couldn’t stand the desk top or the floor to the lovely corner in my living.  SO… I threw her outside.  I neglected her.  I refused to water her, never spoke to her, hardly even remember she was out there.  I played hard to get!  But guess who’s suddenly making a comeback from my patio?  Ya, BABS!!!  She’s thriving basking in the sunlight and rain making a mockery of my green thumb.  Truthfully plants, this feels like dating.  OVER IT!!

Sincerely,

April

Uh, moment of truth: I make a horrible honey badger.

I care.  I’ll admit.  I care!!  I wish I didn’t because caring is the reason I’ve had my heart-broken 6-8 times this year.  I’ve stopped counting.  So ladies, I’m here to admit that I make a horrible horrible honey badger!

My sister on the other hand is the ULTIMATE honey badger!!  She even has a saying for not giving a fuck when someone is annoying her, “CARE!”  And she means it, hardcore.  She can’t even be bothered to say “I don’t” in front of the care, it’s just “CARE!”  She’ll say this to your face, to your back, to your friends, to your dog.  She will straight up “bye Felicia” you and walk away and really truly never look back.  When it comes to men, she’ll wave down a handsome stranger at a bar and invite him to sit with her and THEY ALL DO!  She’ll never utter a word to a man yet pass him a note across the bar then wave and join her friends.  Sooner or later, he’ll always make his way to her table.  Because ladies she is a real honey badger!!  She doesn’t give a shit.  And she never has. **

Is it confidence, bravery, something other-worldly?  I don’t know because I don’t have it.  I don’t have an ounce of it.  I’m the girl who sees a cute guy and trips.  Ask Channing Tatum if you ever run into him.  I’m the girl who knocks off the glass of ice water or runs into the trash can.  I’m the girl who will take a sip of my wine very cool like and spill it down the front of my white dress.  I’m the girl who will make jokes at my own expense because there are plenty to be made.  I’m a walking sitcom.  I care too much about what someone else will think, or how I’ll be perceived, or rather or not someone is going to like me.  When the truth is, if they don’t like you, well, CARE!!  There are many others who will and probably more who won’t.  It’s the crap shoot of life.

However, the older I get the more and more pages I take from my sisters book of “how not to..”  Frankly, life is too short to care that much.  I attribute it to being a very sensitive artist.  Or just sensitive perhaps (I like blaming a LOT on being an artist if you haven’t noticed).  If you look at me wrong I’ll wonder for days what I did to piss you off.  My sister will slap you and take a nap.  If you don’t call me, I’ll again wonder for days what I said or did.  My sister will just delete your number from her phone and make a sandwich.  She will stop taking your calls and texts.  I, on the other hand, am learning the fine art of being silent and caring less (truth be told, I’ll respond to all your calls and texts, I’m a glutton for punishment).  Or… perhaps just valuing myself more and that is simply what I think it comes down to.

My sister has dealt with so much in her life that she gets it.  How much we value ourselves, our time, and our hearts is in direct relation to what we accept and expect of others.  This value theme is something I’ve been discussing a lot with my therapist lately.  Taking care of my heart has never been my priority until now and while I am working on it I keep thinking of the original honey badger, my sister.  My LITTLE sister.  It’s a process but I feel like I’m finally finally taking the right steps to care less because my time matters and my feelings matter and in the grand scheme of life neither can be or should be taken for granted.  So I write.  I distract myself with the things and people I do love and who love me.  And I keep working on “playing it cool.”  And then I say something really dumb but ya know, growing spurts!

 

 

**Although my sister is the poster child for all things honey badgers, she is without a doubt the most generous, loving person you’ll ever meet.  And if you get a chance to be her friend, she’ll be your friend for life.  Until you’re dumb then she ain’t got no time for that.

Relationship PTSD

Here’s a short list of things that give me PTSD from my previous relationship:

1. Baseball hats specifically fan hats.  Sorry every man in america.
2. Polo shirts.  Sorry 80% of men in america. 
3. Burnt orange.  Sorry Austin, Texas.
4. Golf.
5. Soccer.
6. Germans.  Sorry 25% of Texas.
7. Crate & Barrel.  Please none of my friends soon to be married register there. 
8. Fake plants.
9. Multi-purpose greeting cards.
10. Groupons….for dates.