Another love bites the dust

So much can be said of the almost-relationship I was in for the past several months. Where to even begin...

I don't think I can. This one hurts. After a year of emotional turmoil, he was the person who made me feel safe, like I was ok. Like the terrible things men have done to me in the past year weren't deserved, and would never be repeated. So much of what made this relationship so hard was the hesitation on my part. There's a lot he needs to work through, and so much I'm unsure of for my part. To be with him would mean risk, and after a year of taking a risk on a man who utterly ruined me and the subsequent year of picking up the pieces, making hasty decisions and taking huge risks in love has been beaten out of my nature. I trust men less with each blow to my affection. I believe men less when they tell me they love me or admire me or whatever it is they feel. I believe them less. Because time and time again, it's been proven to me that men will always find a way to move on without me.

I feel heartbroken. Not just that another love didn't happen, but that so much of it was right and good, but that neither of us has been in a place where that love has been possible. So now let's be friends. Friends? I don't know how to be your friend right now. Let's make music? I can't now. In depth Star Wars discussions, Game of Thrones, all things I am abandoning now because they were things I shared with you and can't any longer. How you can go from being intimate to just being friends and be ok with it is beyond me. How you can love me romantically and suddenly love me only platonically is a mystery. We said we'd be friends if nothing else, but I guess that was before I knew what that would mean.

This hurts in so many ways I can't even articulate yet. Sitting on your couch staring not off into space, but into the pit of my own fears and regrets was the longest stretch of uncomfortable silence I've ever spent with another human being. I kept waiting for you to say "let's call it a night" so I could call a car to take me and my sadness away from this conversation. We hugged and I cried and said Merry Christmas as I left with my bruised ego and bloodless heart.

What is it about letting go that is so hard? Is it because this was supposed to blossom into a great love? Were you supposed to be the one, but I was too afraid to take steps and take risks to let you closer? Were you too emotionally unavailable even though you loved me? Is this it? Is this the end of us? I genuinely don't know how to be your friend. Not right now. And what's scary about that is that we have become such huge parts of each others' lives that being without each other will feel not only empty, but wrong. No more calls, no more texts, no more holding hands, no more Broadway shows, no more ridiculous moments of laughter that we've enjoyed so much. I am a great friend, but to you, I fear I don't know how to be. Because in the back of my mind, I'll always remember you as my lover, as my companion, as my mate.

This hurts.

Merry Christmas from my weary, regretful heart.

I don't know what this is: a collection of thoughts about pain and desire, and the process of becoming

I had rehearsal tonight for a play that I recently joined, and had fun as I continued to explore this character, Diana- comically and tragically in love with a husband who doesn't love her. In exploring her many quirks and finding buttons for comedic timing and bits, I started to consider what makes this character tick, and I drew some strong parallels to the other characters I've played throughout my career. Most of the characters I've played have one thing in common: unfulfilled want. Their comedy is driven by their manic need to be loved. Mrs. Gottlieb dotes on her son, whom she loves too much; Domina loves and lusts after Senex, who has eyes for younger women; Diana loves a new husband who already longs to be with another woman. These women are all left wanting, and they suffer for it in ways that, to them, are devastating. And why is it that these roles are always perfect for me? I'm a comedian, yes, so the comedic roles in any given play are what I go out for and what I unsurprisingly get, but beyond comedy, there is mourning at the heart of these women to which I relate just a little too well. Pain is the secret to what makes me funny, and probably what makes people laugh the most- because they can relate.

I walked home slowly tonight, letting the frigid wind hitting my eyes serve as the excuse for them to tear. I walked home slowly to allow more time to make amends with all of my pain, reminding myself that all suffering results from unfulfilled want. So, to not feel pain, I must learn not to want.

The year behind me has been a year of realizations, and ultimately, of anguish. I made many terrible decisions because I acted out of a place of unresolved hurt. After nearly a year, a man I loved left me, and in trying to be strong and move on, I pretended it didn't hurt me by becoming as busy as possible. I'd go out drinking most nights to network, to see shows, to do shows, to be around people and forget for just a little while that my heart was broken. I slept with two new men, one who turned out to be a true sociopath, and one who only wanted sex. Both of these encounters, despite my best efforts to be open and to trust, hurt me and offered no promise of love or intimacy. On some level, I might have even known that. One man wounded me by abandoning me, and so I found myself these past ten months in a pattern of perpetual self-punishment by getting involved with people who had no intention of loving me, or no capacity to do so. Wasn't this what I deserved? Wasn't this the extent to which I could be loved? Loved and left? I drank more this year than I ever have; not just because I like beer or the challenge of overcoming my social anxiety by connecting to people so much as because it dulled the pain. I never went wild. No true one night stands, no passing out, no throwing up; just the frequent monotony of masking what I was feeling.

So now, I feel more broken than ever. A friend was joking with me tonight about whether or not I, a formerly raised and fallen-away Catholic, harbor Catholic guilt. Catholic guilt, for me, was a feeling of need for constant remorse, as if all the things I thought and did were displeasing and worthy of flagellation. Even though my choices this year have been terrible and have caused me pain, do I have guilt for having sex, for drinking, for being extremely flawed, for having wants? No, because even in all the mess that I am, I believe there is still much to love. Yes, a man left me in the worst way, and it devastated me, but would it not have been more devastating to be with the wrong partner? To be with a partner who didn't know how to handle me in my intensity, my broken parts, let alone his own? Do not all of my broken pieces make one whole... thing? Whatever I am, I am completely that, and so, I am whole.

 Strangely, this year has also led to a lot of closure. I met up with my ex in July, a man about whom I was very serious in my early twenties, and we spent several hours catching up on life, reliving the good things of our time together, and seeing how we've changed. We wanted marriage and kids and a simple life, but what we wanted in our early and mid-twenties is very different from what we want now in our late-twenties and thirties. We are different people now, but the meeting reminded me that despite all of what didn't work, the love was real and the love was good. In so many ways, he will always be the one I look most fondly upon; I still love him. Later this summer, I reconnected with an ex from the year I was 26. It was a short-lived relationship, but infused with passion from the first moment. It ended as quickly as it began. We reconnected and chatted online about life, love, and living our dreams. Somewhere in the conversation, he stopped and apologized to me. "I don't remember everything from our time together, but I feel like I was a dick to you, and I'm sorry. You definitely deserved better." To that, I simply said "thank you". He told me what I already knew, and I never expected nor waited for it, but hearing it, especially after the sad beginning to my year, gave me a measure of comfort and made me feel I was cradled in compassion for the first time in a long time. And at the beginning of this month, a very unlikely ex texted me out of the blue. We had a good relationship and dated for about half a year, but broke up once we realized that our careers were taking us in different directions: me to New York, and him to wherever the final years of med school would be. We texted throughout the afternoon, and eventually that night, he called. We talked and reminisced. But what became clear is that, despite the many good things about our relationship, we weren't right for each other. He's a good man, and we'll likely meet up this January when I fly out of New York, but certainly, talking to him confirmed for me that we did the right thing by setting each other free.

I guess, as I reflect, let me be devastated. Let me experience whatever it is that continues to make me whole by way of breaking me. Can I stop wanting? I don't know, but if by wanting I become something new, I want to want. Perhaps I'm not the right partner for a friendly hookup nor a sociopathic manipulator, nor for a coward, nor for any of the men I've met, but I am the right partner for whoever is right for me. That man will see me, in all my broken, tattered splendor, and say "I want you".

A Look Back at "Portrait of a Painter"

I went through some old CDs tonight and came across a disc from a photo session I did with a friend 8 years ago called "Portrait of a Painter". I had just started painting, probably around 2005, and knowing this, my friend Nicolle Cabrales asked me to sit for a project for her, to which I enthusiastically agreed.

Looking through this CD of photos was hard. I was overweight at the time (still eating meat and animal products), and unhappy with life in general- I was stuck in a town I hated, finding it hard to move forward in life at 21 because I was still poor, still struggling to move on from the pain of a rough home life, and at the beginning of a breakup with a good man that Fall. But I found joy when I painted, I found freedom. While painting in the middle of the shoot, I asked if I could undress and paint the rest of the session naked, and luckily, my friend went with it. It felt freeing, empowering, and right. I ended up spending several years around this time taking nude photographs while I explored my eye as a photographer, and spent many years posing nude for different photographer friends because it not only helped them to build their portfolios; it helped me to feel alive in my own skin. My body wasn't perfect and I knew it, but when doing something I loved, it didn't matter- art SHOULD be about throwing off all that keeps us from being IN IT. Here are a few shots from that shoot that I still love.

All photos © Nicolle Cabrales 2007

I've gotten better at painting since then, thankfully.

The Truth About Love

I feel utterly broken. Love has ruined me forever, the having it and not having it. All the men I meet are broken because parts of them are still with their exes, leaving me and every other woman they'll meet with just bits and pieces of them instead of the whole we deserve. And, in turn, leaving pieces of us with them, we become broken, piecey people unable to fully give because we, too, are with others elsewhere. So if we're to conclude that the more we love those we can't have, and the more we give of ourselves to those who don't want us, the less there is to give to the people who would love us, meaning that the longer we go through this dating ritual, the more fucked up all the people we will meet will be. I can't go forward with this anymore. At only 28, I'm too exhausted to continue. I don't believe in love anymore. I don't believe in romance. I don't believe it will happen, and perhaps it never has. Perhaps it's all been an elaborate ruse designed by the lovelorn in ages past to make us want, to make us long, to make us yearn for the thing that was never attainted because, truly, SECRETLY, it was never attainable. We are all liars and frauds fooling ourselves and each other every day we go on searching for love that doesn't and can't exist.

Love is a lie we tell to give us something to suffer for because we feel it's heroic, noble, or even admirable.

Finally, at only 28, I can say that I don't believe in love anymore. Like with Santa and the Tooth Fairy, I have finally been given the truth: it was all make-believe.

And I can't pretend anymore.

Love never was.

I am someone who is looking for love.

And another one bites the dust. The guy I've been seeing tells me tonight that he's still not over his ex. So, the amazing time we've been having together has all been in vain. I'm looking for someone with whom I can build a life, with whom I can share my love and my passions. And once again, it hasn't happened, and I'm teetering dangerously on the idea that I may never find it. I'm exhausted, crushed, and heartbroken.

Mistakes can yeild breakthroughs

So, the long and short of it is that I made a mistake last weekend. I got carried away in a feeling, and it led me down a potentially dangerous path. Worst of all, it didn't make me feel better. It didn't quell that sadness left behind by my ex. It didn't fill the void, not even temporarily. It wasn't rooted in love, nor anything like it. So, I have felt empty this week and worried about the consequences. All I can do is continue to breathe and move forward, which I've been doing with remarkable grace, all things considered.

Where I am today? Well, I went on a WONDERFUL date last night with a kind man, who also happens to be vegetarian, and exceptionally gorgeous. We started out with dinner at a vegan restaurant in the village, where we had AMAZING quesadillas and taquitos, we had vegan ice cream at my favorite shop (also in the village), and we walked all over the city. We walked through Chinatown and Little Italy, we walked over Manhattan Bridge and the Brooklyn Bridge. We rode through the abandoned train station under City Hall. And we never ran out of things to talk about or had any lulls in the conversation. It was completely organic, sincere, and euphoric. In all, we had an 8-hour long first date, and it was pretty much magic. There was a kiss, too, so that was sweet. ;) Basically, we had an excellent time together, and we are going out again this Saturday to go rock climbing (I forgot to mention that he is a climber and has insanely sexy arms)! This meeting alone has rejuvenated me. I was in a dark, lonely place this past week in which I was ready to give up on love entirely. The animal passions can't be the only things that drive us; they're empty. We have to be made for more. We have to be made for love. I know it. And with just a GLIMPSE into my night with this awesome guy, my suspicions have been confirmed.

What a wonderful reminder that it's all gonna be ok, and all is not lost.

I have dates lined up every night this week, actually, including tonight. I went on a date tonight with a guy I'd recently met, but I definitely don't feel any chemistry, and the attraction is not entirely there. The same can be said of the guy I'm going out with tomorrow. This is how I have amassed so many male friends, lol. I have a date scheduled for Friday to go to the Met with a cute Jewish guy (one of my weaknesses), and while I'm looking forward to it, I don't know that the chemistry is there. We spoke on the phone today, and he was pleasant, for sure; he just seemed nervous. We'll see. Regardless of how any of my upcoming dates go, I can't ignore the chemistry I've found with this other guy and how giddily excited I am to see him this weekend. Is this the beginning of something good? :)

My Name's Amanda, and I'm an Addict.

It's been raining in New York City for three days. Finally, the weather matches the way I've been feeling on the inside, glimpses of sunlight speaking of my innate optimism and idealistic ideas that the world is still inherently good, as are its people.

It's a tricky thing, to be hurt. If you allow it, or more specifically, if I allow it, sadness can consume me. My cousin Carmen and I talk very openly about everything, and we confide a lot in each other. I have talked to her about the troubles that have been plaguing me, and she said it was our damned addictive Galzerano genes. For a little backstory about that: my mother's family, with the exception of my mother perhaps, suffers from addictive behaviors. Almost all of my aunts and uncles, as well as many of my cousins, are alcoholics and drug users. I always felt really relieved that these tendencies skipped me and my siblings, but what I think I did inherit is the intensity of those addictions in other ways. I am a very passionate person, and I've always known this. I consider it a blessing and a curse. As an actor and advocate, it is truly a gift in that I am able to channel my feelings, emotions, and intentions into various creative and/or beneficial outlets. It is also a curse because I am a dweller. If something bothers me, I can't stop thinking about it until the problem has achieved resolution. Fights and arguments will plague me for days and weeks, possibly months if left unresolved. Hurtful things someone I care about said will keep me up at night. I will lose sleep over the what-ifs and the I-wishes of the situation instead of laying it to rest. No alcoholism or drug use for me, but instead, perhaps a more potent poison; the inability to be at peace in peril.

Over time, I can let go of things, but when I start thinking about how things turned out, it may come up again. For instance, the car accident caused by the woman on her cell phone. She injured me physically and mentally, and now that I live in New York and rarely drive, it is easier to separate myself from it; however, when I am driving or am in a city with heavy traffic, it tends to start to all come back, and I start to relive it. It stresses me out. Perhaps because the settlement is still pending, I don't have closure, and don't feel I can move on. The same thing goes for the upsets in my life. If I've had cross words with someone, or if a relationship has been damaged, it keeps me awake, it causes me stress, and I can think of little else.

Last night, I was talking with my youngest roommate, Aly. I am older than both of the girls I live with, and am in nearly all ways, the adult matriarch of this apartment. I have had more life experience, probably more partners, and more experience in love than them both. Aly, I know this for sure. She has never been in a true relationship, so I feel kind of lucky that I can pass on what wisdom I've gained in my time in the field to her so that (maybe) she can avoid some of the mistakes I've made and the pitfalls I've found when dealing with men. Anyway, I've recounted to her my past loves and my experiences, detailing in some ways each man that I've had and how he changed me. We talked mostly of my longest relationship because it seemed the most likely to bear fruit. He was- IS- a good man. We didn't part ways because there wasn't love there; it just didn't work. I hate knowing that. Even more, I hate knowing that I hurt him when I called it off. We couldn't be friends for a while because we needed separation in order to regain our senses of self and to start moving on. But a year or two ago, we reconnected. More specifically, I found him. He had just gotten out of a four year relationship with the woman whom he'd dated after me. I know he's heartbroken. Aly commented that he's a longterm man. I thought about that for a minute. I thought, well, of course he is. He has so many incredible qualities, and he is a loving partner. He has his downfalls, for sure, but I wasn't without mine. People get together with him and stay with him because he's someone with whom you can imagine a life. He's a man with whom you feel safe. I always felt safe with him. Not only because we were friends first and I knew his character, but because something about being in his presence made you feel cared for, protected, and nurtured. It breaks my heart to know that he's had his heart broken so many times, that he can never just get it right with a woman.

I asked him when we reconnected if he'd like to meet, as I was about to move to New York and didn't know if we'd get the chance later. Understandably, he was not in a place emotionally where he could see me. I was disappointed, but I accepted it. Now, I am going home for a week in July to visit my loved ones and finish some unfinished business. I asked if he'd like to meet while I'm in town- he said yes. So, I have thought often of this and imagined all the things that could happen. How am I to know? It's been 6, almost 7 years. We've both had loves since and lost them, moved, changed, grown. What could I imagine that will actually happen? Nothing. I know nothing. Will he be happy to see me? Will it make us sad? Will we reminisce about the life we had together or the life we were planning together? It's still so alien to me when I consider that if we'd stayed together, we could have a toddler. I could be a mother. My life would be very different. I regret nothing except that finding myself meant losing someone I loved very much. I know he grew from it and went on to date a woman he loved, likely more deeply than he loved me, as they had more time together. But I can't stop IMAGING the meeting. The one thing I know and the one thing I am looking forward to more than anything is hugging him and seeing his smile. He had the warmest hugs and the most INCREDIBLE smile I've still ever seen. Dentists must weep when they see him, it's so beautiful. And his laugh was so infectious that no matter your mood initially, you'd feel warm when he laughed, tingly all over because it echoed throughout your entire being. I cannot wait to see him...

I think the anticipation for all the resolutions I'm seeking is tearing me apart. I am feeling torn in so many places by so many encounters, good and bad alike, that I don't quite know how to feel about it all. I want you, but I feel rejected by you. I know you want me, but I don't think you quite know in what ways. I know that also part of my Galzerano genes is my inherent tenacity and inability to give up. Perhaps that is another part of the blessing; I'm not a quitter. HAHAHA! I guess that does make me an addict. I won't quit. I don't know how to quit you. I don't know how to snuff out this interest that you've ignited in me. I wanted to be friends, and I politely ignored your advances because maybe I knew this about myself already. I think I knew that I didn't want to blur the line between friends and lovers because I was afraid of this very thing happening. Sex changes everything. And once changed, it can't be undone. So I suppose I need resolve one way or another. Either we put up the friend zone and keep its barriers steadfast, or we see just how deep the rabbit hole goes. Either way, leaving things as undone as they are has me up at night imagining things so much that I am losing sight of what's real and what's fantasy. Save me from this agony. Tell me. Be open with me. Fix this. Because now you know that I don't know how to just let it go.

Cleaning Out

I'm cleaning out my inboxes tonight. So much of my life has become the noise of other people's thoughts that it's hard for me to move forward with a clear head. Even the remnants of others' presence are louder than I'd like. Going through my inboxes, I am finding dozens of emails from Ross, all incredibly sweet, loving, and thoughtful. I know that what we had was good, so the fact that it ended so abruptly and without explanation still hurts. A lot changes in love when we make big decisions, and a lot can be lost. When I moved to New York, I had no intention of continuing to see him because I was ready to start my new life. Somehow, we carried our fling into a relationship, and while we had it, it was good. We had love. But I had already done long distance with a man I loved deeply, and it broke our hearts when, after a year and a half together, it didn't work. The distance was too much. We still loved each other too much to just be friends, so our friendship was lost, too. Not wanting to go through it all again, but already being attached to Ross, I suggested that we keep our relationship open so that neither of us would feel burdened by the distance; after all, his move to New York was still so up in the air, we had no way to know it would happen at all, let alone when. I thought keeping our relationship open while we were apart was fair to both of us, and while he agreed to it, he wound up resenting me for it. Despite the love, it wasn't enough. So he left. That was January of this year, a time I am ready to tuck away.

I find messages from Jesse, a man who was exciting and kind, and my first New York romance. We had many months of fun and closeness, but we were sexually incompatible, and I'm not one to pretend that it could work. So, it didn't. His messages must be put away.

Further back, I find photos and messages from Brandon. Our relationship ended as quickly as it began. I am ready to push these into the past.

When I look even further back, I find photos of me with RJ, the doctor I was falling for, and it has only hints of sadness. He would text me every morning for the months that we dated, and he always made me feel important. Photos of him wearing my ties to work are popping up, photos from our Thanksgiving together, all of these photos from distantly happy times. We called it off when we realized I was going to New York, and he wasn't. He taught me so much about myself in love, in sex, and in humanity. He treated me well, and he was a good man. But his photos have to be tucked away.

As far back as they go, I am still finding emails, photos, and chats with Jan Michael. Our strange love story spanned half a decade, and he was the great love of my young life. We grew up together, and I wouldn't be who I am had we not had our time together, nor would he. He taught me about loving, losing, and letting go. This was also the first friendship I had that turned into a relationship, so it was my first taste of losing. We managed to maintain our friendship, but not without periods of separation and exploration. After over a decade, he is someone with whom I still share a genuine love and understanding. But these emails and photos have to be put away.

All of these glimpses into the past, not to mention flash-in-the-pan romances and encounters, have me exhausted and wanting to retire from the love game. I don't see the point anymore. I met a man recently with whom I have an inexplicable chemistry. I want to be close, but he pushes me away with each attempt to get close, leaving him feeling pressed upon and me feeling rejected. And he refuses to engage with me in any real sort of way, so once again, I feel burned. If I am honest, I think he just wants to engage with me in a sexual way and pretends to care about me in order to win my affection without having to work for it. I don't know him well enough to say definitively, but I wonder if he has a habit of working women this way because he is afraid of getting burned, as he claims he has been in the past. I am not the type to give up on things or people, but I am just exhausted. I'm tired of being rejected by someone I care about and am trying to love, or, at the very least, like.

I met another man recently that gave me hope. His name is Steven, and he is genuinely one of the most attractive men I have ever seen in my life, like a cross between a clean-shaven David Beckham and someone devastating. He has a sleeve of tattoos on his right arm, and his body was RIPPED. Even through his clothes, I could see that this is a man who takes care of himself and takes pride in his body. He was quiet at first (we were both working an event), but about an hour into our morning together, he had permanently set up camp by me while his dog sniffed bags for bombs. We spent hours talking and joking, and he liked watching me be ridiculous and dance like an idiot. I made him laugh. :) I guess because I assumed a man this good-looking couldn't possibly be into me, I didn't bother even entertaining the idea that he could like me. I'm an attractive woman, and I've always dated attractive men, but this is a man straight out of GQ. That would be new territory for me. How could I even fathom it? But we had chemistry. He was kind and engaging, despite his innate shyness, and he made me feel beautiful. He made me feel funny. He made me feel worthwhile. I have never and will never DEPEND on a man to make me feel anything, but the fact that he made me feel special and desirable makes me think I shouldn't give up on love. For all I know, this could be the sole purpose of our encounter- I may never see him again. But it was a reminder that I don't have to hold out hope for a man who pushes me away or long for a man who resented my good intentions and left. I deserve love. I deserve respect. I deserve a partner who brings out the best in me, isn't afraid to get close to me, isn't afraid to fight with me, and definitely isn't afraid to be vulnerable with me.

So, I am pushing it all into the archives of my inboxes so as to make new room for good love.

Free thoughts in free verse

It was something you said.

It was the way you said it.

It was that you said it at all.

It was something you didn't say.

It was the way you didn't say it.

It was the way you walked away.

It was that in the moment after a slow, spine-tingling build, you let me drop, naked and covered in my own sweat and newfound shame for letting you have me without having all of me (even the bad bits, the misfits, the misplaced and misused good intentions).

It was in the moments that you sweet talked me into glorious submission, my mind set only on the thing in front of us because it was passion, it was rage, it was closeness, understanding, warmth. It was warmth.

It was the thought of being in someone's arms whose arms were in mine.

It was being in the moment and forgetting about all the moments that come after this.

It was the way we fought, quarreled like Street Fighters. You, Dhalsim, with the ability to stretch out your arms and push me away with a hard blow, and me, Blanka, with the ability to use my rage to hurt anyone who gets too close to hurt me. 

It was the way that despite our bitter and unexpected fighting, I wanted to get close and want still to be closer.

It's my inability to have just a taste and not eat the whole dish. I want your entire dish, even if it's a bit meatier than I'm accustomed to.

If I have any fault in my pursuit, it is not that I don't own my faults or that I can't account for them; it is that I want more from people than I know with what to do.

My defense to being hurt is to hurt. Even if I don't understand the fight, my dukes go up in a plea of self-preservation.

I don't want to hurt or be hurt anymore.

I'm tired from this battle.

The worst part is: nobody won.

It's the way that I don't know what to do next.

It's the way I'm drunk on your words, the promise of your touch, the warmth of your body and mine burning together in my bed.

It's the way that I never know if you'll be kind or aloof when we speak.

It's the way that you keep me at a distance that makes me want to run distances.

What does it take to break down the barriers?

What does it take to not only make amends, but to make them strong?

How do you strengthen what's been badly wounded? Can you? Can we? I want to, please.

I want you.

It's the way that I hate you, and the way that I don't. Not at all. Even when I do, it doesn't feel like I expect it to.

How can I make amends strongly with you?

I'm sorry. ❤️ 

Come back inside.

Kiss me on the head and it'll all be alright.

NYC Chapter 2: Moving into New Space(s)

Today begins a new chapter in my life, as I am moving to a new apartment with new people. I have spent the past year living with a couple (this is usually the part where everyone I've told knowingly says "Ohhhhhh..."), who is extremely poor at communicating and being civil, and is altogether uninterested in the comfort or feelings of others. Living with a couple has been a huge struggle because they unite and automatically feel validated in their union that everyone else is wrong and rude, and they create a unified force of negativity and divisiveness with which I just can't (and no longer have to!) deal. It's bittersweet because it also means I won't be living with my best friend, Greg, who also lives in this prison. He isn't ready to move yet, so this means we part ways for the time being.

What this also means: I am going to be living with two new girls, girls I don't really know, but hope to like. They are both in theatre (one girl is an actor, and the other is a costumer), so I feel like, having been around theatre types for most of my life, it seems like a really promising future. I just want to live in a home where the cohabitants actually cohabitate. I want to live with people who understand that me being alone in my room isn't antisocialism; it's restoration. It's me recharging so that I can be with others as my best self. It's hard to be an extrovert with a need for introversion because most people don't really understand it. They assume that if you're a talkative person, you must ALWAYS be that way; not so. I mentioned this to one of my new roommates, and she said she can actually relate, as she's this way, too (hooray!). So, all of this begins for me this afternoon. I have been moving micro loads of my things to the new apartment the past day, and have my BIG moving day scheduled for this afternoon. Again, it's bittersweet, and it's always tough to feel at home in new surroundings, but I've done it before, and I can do it again.

Aside from the new digs, I am at a point, having lived and worked in New York for one full year (today is my ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY!), in which complacency in my career has become unacceptable. I can no longer go on a handful of auditions a year and be satisfied. I can no longer watch my friends receive their SAG and AEA cards and not be working toward those things for myself. I came here with a purpose. Now that I've given myself time to settle into the city and learn its rhythms, I can say that I am prepared to move forward into greater creative experiences.

I went to a WONDERFUL actor networking event last week with my friend Hillary, at which I met many exceptional artists, professionals, and a casting director. I was on such a high from the event that I suggested we go to the PIT for some improv fun (Hillary has an extensive background in improv, so she was totally down). We played for a bit that night, and I think I met a man who is destined to be very important to me... but that's another matter for another time. :) What that night also imparted to me was a voracious hunger to get back into improv. I took a step back from it this past season, choosing to focus more on promotional work, and possibly, to hide from improv. As a comedian with an extensive sketch comedy background, which has granted me the luxury of edits and rehearsals, improv has intimidated me. I've gotten on stage and fought the process, thinking my job was to get the laughs instead of building the relationships. So, what have I chosen to do about it? STOP RUNNING. I'm tired of running from my weaknesses and am instead EMBRACING THEM. Only in this embrace can I become comfortable enough to acknowledge them, work on them, and eliminate them. So, I've gone to the PIT three nights this week alone, and expect to keep this practice up several days a week until my fears become my joys. I want to be good at this, so it's time to strengthen the muscle. In going to see shows, to jam, and just be around creatives, I've opened up a lot and made many new friends. No more can I hide behind this veil of shyness that has prevented me from pursuing people and opportunities that I've wanted. I am squashing that fear right now. I want to be with people who are like-minded so that we can enrich each others' lives, creatively and otherwise.

To further prove how serious I am about making it happen, I bought a class beginning at the end of May. I met the instructor, who is the artistic director at the theatre, and registered for his class because his technique BLEW me away, and I know it will help me to find things in the scene to follow, connections to explore, ways to just exist in the moments and actually build something with my partner. And how wonderfully improv training can relate to real life: in what ways can I become a better human with improv training? I can be a better listener, I can be a better collaborator, I can be a diplomat, I can support my partners and loved ones, I can say YES and BUILD from there. It's a beautiful thing how art and life improve each other, quite a symbiotic relationship.

Well, that seems to be enough rambling, as I still have SO much sorting and packing to do. It will be a huge day leading me ever closer to an even bigger future. I cannot wait to begin. Blessings of love to you all, my friends and readers. Be well.

Amanda

 

How to get free

A friend sent me a snapchat this evening asking "How do I forgive when he never apologized?". It hurt to read the sentiments of my own heart from someone else's experience. How do so many of us end up hurt and scarred from unhealthy relationships? We acknowledge their destructive nature in our lives, but instead of feeling free from their clutches, we feel angry that we were hurt, bitter that we didn't win, depressed that someone else got the best of us. I don't want to not forgive because someone else isn't sorry. I don't want to not move forward because the memory of and resentment toward someone else is holding me back. Forgiveness isn't something we give to others because they deserve it; it is something we give because we deserve it. I am constantly learning and growing and realizing that I can more easily move forward the less baggage I carry. It's time to unload the burdens of other people's bad choices and mistreatments so that we can finally be free.

I Feel Better

I've got an elastic heart.

So after nine months of falling in love with what I thought was an awesome man, my heart was broken, and is only now on the mend. He just stopped talking to me. Literally. Just stopped calling, texting, and eventually stopped responding to calls and texts. How did this happen? I never bombarded him with contact, was never too clingy, never did anything I can imagine to push him away. But after being home for Christmas, apparently something changed. He sent me a text at midnight on New Year's Eve, and that was when he stopped contacting me. This was strange because Ross was always the one to reach out to me, usually once a day at least, and I thought we had a good thing going. It wasn't until the end of the third day that I reached out to him to see what was going on. He had begun moving out of his apartment and claimed he was just stressed and that he tends to shut down when he gets overwhelmed. But this behavior would continue for days, a week, almost two weeks. At that point, he had literally dodged me in every way possible, letting me know without even the decency of a conversation that he apparently didn't care for me anymore.

I was utterly shattered by this. This is a man I thought we never, ever hurt me. He was always incredibly tender with me, loving, and engaging. And here he turned so cold. Now, I'm just angry. He's moving on and still hasn't responded to any of the messages I had sent, not returned a single contact, letting me know he doesn't give a shit about me. I deserve better and will not tolerate nor settle for less; but it just baffles and hurts me when I think about it.

So what have I done to keep from thinking about it too much? GETTING SHIT DONE. I designed and ordered my business cards, I have edited and sent resumes, I have tried new beers, I went to a concert to see my favorite cellist, I have worked out, I went on an interview and effectively got a job. I've slept more than usual, but I don't cry anymore. I wasted all those tears the first two weeks of my new year. That's essentially 5% of my year that I spent in tears over some CHILD OF A MAN. That 5% will stay at 5%. No more. I am taking heartbreak and turning into MY TRIUMPH. I'm too smart, too talented, too important to waste my time chasing some idiot who dropped me like a hot potato. DONE. Moving on.

I'd really like to take my fitness to a new level this year. I have finally made the full transition into committed veganism, and it is the GREATEST! I feel so good, my body is becoming lean and strong, and I feel very ethically aligned. I'd am focusing on really building my body and creating a healthy environment.

I am also looking forward to work in the Bahamas at the end of this month. The hotel has THREE enormous pools, a beautiful gym, a yoga pavilion, and a rock climbing wall. Let's just say this: I'm gonna work my ass off, but I'm also excited to be going somewhere where I have to pack three bathing suits. It will be productive and make me money, but I also get to enjoy beautiful surroundings, new food, warm weather, and time with my friends. I always look forward to tournaments because they give me a moment's pause to step back and reevaluate everything. And it could not come at a better time.

All in all, this is just a post to kind of put my thoughts out there and get them out of my head. I am so grateful for the friends and loved ones who've been shoulders for me to cry on (literally and metaphorically) in the past few weeks, and I am so fortunate to have such good people in my life. I look forward to the rest of the new year, as it can only be up from here.

XOXO

And I might have thought that we were one.

"Elastic Heart"

And another one bites the dust
Oh why can I not conquer love?
And I might have thought that we were one
Wanted to fight this war without weapons

And I wanted it, I wanted it bad
But there were so many red flags
Now another one bites the dust
Yeah, let's be clear, I'll trust no one

You did not break me
I'm still fighting for peace

Well, I've got thick skin and an elastic heart,
But your blade it might be too sharp
I'm like a rubber band until you pull too hard,
I may snap and I move fast
But you won't see me fall apart
'Cause I've got an elastic heart

I've got an elastic heart
Yeah, I've got an elastic heart

And I will stay up through the night
Let's be clear, won't close my eyes
And I know that I can survive
I'll walk through fire to save my life

And I want it, I want my life so bad
I'm doing everything I can
Then another one bites the dust
It's hard to lose a chosen one

You did not break me
I'm still fighting for peace

Well, I've got thick skin and an elastic heart,
But your blade it might be too sharp
I'm like a rubber band until you pull too hard,
I may snap and I move fast
But you won't see me fall apart
'Cause I've got an elastic heart
[3x]

I've got an elastic heart

Deep Sadness

Unravel

Song by Björk

While you are away my heart comes undone
It slowly unravels in a ball of yarn
The devil collects it with a grin
Our love in a ball of yarn

He'll never return it
(When you come back)
(We'll have to make new love)

He'll never return it
(When you come back)
(We'll have to make new love)

While you are away, my heart comes undone
It slowly unravels in a ball of yarn
Devil collects it with a grin
Our love in a ball of yarn

He'll never return it
(When you come back)
(We'll have to make new love)

He'll never return it
(When you come back)
(We'll have to make new love)

He'll never return it
(When you come back)
(We'll have to make new love)
[Incomprehensible]

He'll never return it
(When you come back)
(We'll have to make new love)