acting it out

the art of learning to live

Archive for the category “the artist”

For My Mother

Every time I look in the mirror, I will think of you. I will see the nose I once hated & I will smile because it is your nose.
Every time I dance, I will think of you. I will hear you singing along & I will laugh because you never could carry a tune.
Every time I’m sick, I will think of you. I will feel your hand on my head & I will feel better because I know chicken soup really is good for the body & soul.
Every time I cook, I will think of you. I will smell the memories of meals past & I will toast to you because you finally did master Julia Child’s coq au vin.
Every time I feel discouraged, I will think of you. I will remember your words & I will carry on because I know I have your strength inside of me.
Every time I am happy, I will think of you. I will live my life to the fullest & follow my dreams because you taught me how to embrace myself & be my own person.
Every time I think of you, I will love you even more.
I will be thankful because you gave me life, but you also gave me so much more.

I love you for forever.

I carry your heart, I carry it in my heart



I’m between the ghouls and the monster

It makes you stick,
stick in one place.
It makes you

& that’s what I am


I’m afraid to mourn a mother who is not yet (physically) gone.

I’m afraid to live
I’m afraid to love
I’m afraid to learn from my mistakes
because I feel I have already made enough.

That’s another word I identify with my current state,

However, I do not use it as an adjective to describe myself,
no, that would be too kind.
& kindness can not be afford to those who need
tough love?

I’ve had it.

I’ve had enough pain.
I’ve had enough anger.
I’ve had enough doubt.

I’ve cried enough tears.
Haven’t I?

I imagine there’s a collection of all the salt water I release
at night in my bed,
or in my shower,
or in my car, in broad daylight, at a stop sign, while an old Chinese lady stares at me.

There’s just jars & jars of it, sitting on a shelf somewhere.
They are labeled with my name & someone is sorting through them,
with the tiniest pasture pipette,
counting out each droplet,
seeing if it has reached the magic number,
seeing if it’s

But it isn’t.

So, the universe rears back its fist to have another go.

But I have had enough.

faith. take two.

my faithlessness
is causing me to verge on hopelessness.

my life seems to be so full of ups & downs,
it feels like a roller coaster.

maybe it’s more like the giant wave pool at water parks.

do you remember those?

a giant cement square,
filled with water & probably a hundred people.
It was built as a gradual slope,
with a deep end, and then a shallow end that turned into a “shore”.

I remember all the people crammed in this thing,
floating on inner tubes,
laughing, swimming & splashing around.
Then they would sound the horn
that signified the oncoming “waves”.
People would scramble to their flotation devices, or some even headed for the “shoreline” to escape the waves.

I was always the kid who braved the deep end during the “storm”.
I stayed out there treading water,
pretending to be a mermaid stuck in a hurricane
or a pirate caught in a shipwreck.

I’ve lost that little girl,
void of fear & full of such life.

now I’m trapped in the deep end of the wave pool,
struggling to get above water,
trying desperately to push through the crowd to get to the land.

I remember when I was a kid, when/if I had a moment of insecurity in that wave pool,
I knew in my mind that if it did become too much, that I could always grab on to a friends inner tube.

I am so grateful to have that safety net, symbolically, in my life today.

this is what I will have hope in.
this is who I will have faith in.
this is what will allow me to survive these harsh waters.
& this is what will eventually bring back that
brave little girl.

so thank you to
my dear
my wonderful
my patient
my understanding
my kind
my generous
my funny
my talented
my thoughtful
my unselfish friends,
who are my true family.

Without whom I would surely drown.


Complete trust or confidence
in someone or something.

I once had so much of it.

But now, at a time in my life when I need it the most,
I find myself left

I find myself wanting
more of

this invisible force that gives people such hope & clarity in dire situations.

the magic word
which some people use with such sincerity
that it causes jealousy in my now cynical & questioning heart.

I use to have such faith in
the people in my life
people in general

But most importantly,
I use to have such faith in

Where did it go?
How did I lose it?

& how can I get it back?

I find myself struggling to
answer these questions.

Now I grasp for
hope that I can find

that I will be able to
answer these questions

that I can find
my faith
in anything

But mostly importantly
that I can find faith in

self aware

I’m competing with the past,
memories of what didn’t last.
I’m chasing down ghosts,
asking what they miss the most
from life.

I’m running through a storm,
way ahead of the mourn.
I’m missing what’s ahead,
before its even said
or done.

I’m looking at myself,
all together something else.
I’m skipping half the parts,
depriving my own lonely heart
of truth.

echoes & shadows

time heals all wounds

I want to shoot whoever first penned this sentiment.
When I am hurting, I find it to be a filthy, bloody, lie.
When I am not, I still think it is a misrepresentation of a truth.

Perhaps others feel differently than I do?
I often believe that I feel differently, love differently, heal differently
than the people I am surrounded by.

Yes, time lessens the pain of a wound.
But the wounds, the ones which strike me deep to my core,
Those are the ones that stay, throbbing still.

I imagine my spirit to be a pumpkin.
(bear with me here).

The whole of who I am is a pumpkin.

Over the course of my life I am cut open, I am hollowed out.
Every cruel word.
Every lie, every betrayal, every friend turned foe.
Every email, text, vague Facebook status
that I obsess over.
These are my wounds.
These are the swift spoon like blows that swoop into my heart & scrap against my insides, taking bits of me with them.
I am left one layer thinner with each ill force.

I am not a blind victim. I know that I also cause the layers to be removed even further each time I re visit my pain, each time I dwell on the negative.

But all the same, I become more & more hollow over time.
The wounds do fade into one another, some completely forgotten.

But then there are the ones that hurt the most at their conception.
The ones that are repeated in cruel irony due to my bad judgement in who I associate with & who I let into my life, my heart.
& the ones that, sometimes were not even necessarily intentionally harmful
by their deliverer.
Just comments made by those who are blind to how much their words effect others,
because they are not saying the words for the one to whom they are speaking,
but for themselves as a result of their own wounds, or insecurities.

These are the wounds that resonate in the empty void that is left in my center.
The wounds that become echoes in my soul.

I create a smiling exterior.
A fixed look of happiness to deflect from my internal damages.

Life has made me a jack o lantern.

But every carved pumpkin has that light.
The candle placed in its center to make it glow
& to illuminate the face, to bring it to life.

So, what’s my candle?
What is my light which will chase out the shadows left by the people in my past?
& how do I make sure no one can blow it out?

A general life update.

This blog needs some positivity.
& we’re in luck,
because my life is starting to have more & more of it as of late.

I found out I will be acting in a theatre production with a director
I’ve really been hoping to work with, early next year.
I’m still so new to the Atlanta theatre community
& I am excited to delve more into the theatre world.

I do miss working with my film family, as an actor.
I’ve been taking on a lot of behind the scenes roles in the last year or so.
I’ve done everything from casting, wardrobe, set dec, office administration, & even catering.
The true mark of an indie film maker is
to be able to wear many hats,
in my opinion.

I’m most excited about the next “hat” I will be trying on: Writer.

The Project I’m working on is somewhat intense and complicated.
I’ve always had the mind set of, “go big or go home”
& if I’m going to try something new, then I am going to give it all I can.
Writing the script, developing the story, creating the characters.
It’s all so fun & a great outlet for my creative mind, but it is also
Nerve-wracking, time consuming, & insecurity inducing.
But it is worth it every time I finish a page, or have a new, brilliant idea.

I’ve always enjoyed writing poems, songs, & even school papers.
But the concept of creating a script, and having that script turned into a moving, breathing work of art is so inspiring to me.
I find I think more in images when writing this way.
I can see how I want a shot to look.
I think learning & doing so many other jobs has allowed me to be able to think of a script from all the different divisions of the film making process. I already know how I want the characters to dress, what objects I want to be in each room.

The Project as I’m referring to it for now, is my seed which I will plant, sow & nurture.
I can’t wait to see what fruit it bares!

Post Navigation