acting it out

the art of learning to live

Archive for the category “the writer”

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.


It’s been a month,again, since my last post.

& that last post was what I want this blog to be.
What I need need need it to be.

Honest unedited words just spilling out of my mind through my fingers onto the screen
Onto the screens of anyone who comes across this page

That’s a fucking terrifying thought to me

But it is also a satisfying one
Because I don’t want to edit myself
I want to be able to read this months, years from now & know that what I said here is exactly what I was thinking and exactly what I was feeling.

I want that for myself

And that’s who this blog was started for

& yes I want it to touch people
& I want it to mean something to someone
& I want it to be a non socially & personally damning representation of myself

But why?

If someone is offended
Or critical
Or judging

Why do I want them in my life?
Why should I care?

I won’t. I don’t. I can’t.

I can’t, because I legitimately feel that those people, that type of person, is detrimental to my soul & to who I am & to who I want to be.

So, yes, this may become a chaotic mess of emotion.
& yes, it may become more real
More brutally honest than most people would like
But it will just that.
It will be real
It will be honest
It will be me.

& I’m done being anything other than those things.


writing is a struggle against silence

But my problem isn’t silence.

It’s blaring, soul-wrenching, blood curling screaming
inside my head.
How do I get it out. How do I put it down into to type.

I feel like I’ve lost it.
The eloquence. The beauty of writing my thoughts.

It’s everything,
Our words. Our thoughts.
are/our everything,
If we were stripped down and left in a desert, what would we have?
Nothing but thoughts and words inside our heads.

So what does it matter how it comes out?
A jumble mess of thought vomit spewing out,
lacking that perfect pentameter and punctuation

Just do it. Just say it. Just write it.

But fear.

What oh what will people say? What will they think?

This poor girl with all her problems and her sad life and her poor dying mother and her poor fucked up family and her poor sad mind all jumbled up and upside down and inside out and spinning spinning into the darkness only to be drowned out by her 4am cries of self torment and self doubt and self deprecation and anger and sadness and anger and confusion and anger and loss.

Does it matter?

Who are these people who’s thoughts are more important than the ounce of sanity you feel after the release of your thoughts and words? Who are these people you care so much about?
Is it the friends or is it the former friends
Is it the family who already criticizes your every word and action
Is it the new people in your life
who you fear will label you as the girl with the dying mum
Is it the random acquaintance or the strangers
Why do any of them matter
Why do they matter over yourself?
Why why why why why

What is this society standard of self censorship in the matters of free thought and any emotion below happy?

So what if I’ve got problems? Who doesn’t?


beautiful, inspiring, raw, vulnerable, sincere, and made ME (the reader) feel liberated.

Well, the reviews are in I guess.

I never imagined that something I wrote would warrant a statement like that.

I never imagined anyone would read this blog
outside of the 3 people I told about it in the beginning.

But I hit that share button to send it to Facebook &

VoilĂ  !

I have readers?
I have “followers”?

Most importantly,
I have someone who took time out of their day to make sure I knew that they liked my writing,
that it meant something to them!

I realize that this little thing, is not as little as it may seem.

I know how life is, and how it can get.
busy, stressful, hectic.

Even that small effort of clicking the “like” button means something to me.

So, to the ones who support me & encourage me,
even in the simplest of actions:

I recognize you & I thank you.

& I hope to return the thoughtfulness someday as often as I can.

Which brings me to my next thoughts.

How often do I need encouragement?

A lot.

Probably more than the average person.

I’m an artist, an actor.
it’s almost a requirement to be needy & insecure.

But how often do I give out encouragement?

Not very.

It’s true.
& it’s sad.

Why would I ever neglect to give that which I am so desperate to have myself?

There are a number of reasons & excuse that could be named.

But that isn’t what matters.
What is important is that I realize that everyone around me deserves, wants, & needs encouragement,
Just like I do.

& I need to make more of an effort to make the people in my life know
how much they mean to me,
and how much I believe in them.
Even in the little things.

As often as I can.

Post Navigation