Perfect Is Overrated

So, I’ve gone and fallen in love … with a band. Yep, it’s true. It happens.


And the name of this incredible, apple-of-my-eye band, you might ask? They’re called HEDLEY. And I am head-over-heels, crazy feeling in love.


Especially with this one track called “Perfect”. Its lyrics are literally, well…perfect. ūüôā


This chorus, for instance…


I’m not perfect but I keep trying

’cause that’s what I said I would do from the start.

I’m not alive if I’m lonely, so please don’t leave.

Was it something I said or just my personality?

I know I’m not perfect but I keep trying

’cause that’s what I said I would do from the start.

I know I’m not perfect but I keep trying…


I mean, come on, who hasn’t been there before…who hasn’t stared at the retreating back of a person they¬†liked–or maybe even loved–and wondered what they could have done or said to make him/her stay? We’ve all been there. Well…most of us, anyhow. And us girls especially–we’ll literally analyze every moment, every conversation, every word spoken…rethink every decision we ever made, every action we took…and when we finally (it’s a matter of WHEN, not IF) fall to the proverbial rock bottom, it’s ourselves we hold liable and assume are to blame…even when we’re¬†not. It doesn’t matter who does the walking away…we blame ourselves for the loss…the failure. At first it’s superficial, then the blame and self-doubt goes deeper…under the surface. The blame becomes internal…more personal. We start to question our looks/appearance, our personalities, our self worth, and ultimately our identity as it relates to who we are. We start to circle all our faults and flaws and insecurities with this figuratively bold–albeit invisible to anyone but our own self–bright red permanent marker. We get paranoid and neurotic and we start to obsess over these so-called “flaws” until the obsession and ¬†all those¬†doubts begin to cloud our judgement and take control of our lives…until it consumes us.

Until it destroys us…and everything/everyone we love and care about–though unintentional–becomes collateral damage. We don’t mean for it to happen, but it happens all the same. Naturally, it’s different for each of us. Some are fortunate and just so naturally complete¬†in¬†their self-awareness that they can handle the fall-out with little to none lingering/lasting¬†damage. And then there’s the rest of us who¬†are just not that strong. That can’t let go that easily or move on that quickly–acting as if nothing had ever happened.. Some of us are dizzy with doubt and end up¬†allowing ourselves to succumb to all the guilt and insecurity. Some of us have lost faith in ourselves and aren’t able to get it back. We put too much pressure on ourselves to be perfect…to fix those imperfections…if not to win him/her back, then to be at least prepared for the next time, and that¬†next someone. Until eventually, it becomes a control thing. A way to keep some sanity and control over our lives. We change ourselves to fit the needs and wants of another…and we lose ourselves in the process. Until it becomes less about that person and/or about what happened and more about fitting the “ideal”… that state of being and achievement that we call perfection. We starve ourselves to fit the status quo, to blend in because standing out is far too¬†terrifying for us to even consider. In the blink of an eye it seems as though everything that we once were ceases to exist.

And all the while, we fail to see the reality of it all…the reality of what and who we are. It’s a vicious cycle, that perfection business. Some reach the pinnacle…and others spend their entire lives reaching for it.


When you’re caught in a lie,

and you’ve got nothing to hide,

When you’ve got nowhere to run,¬†

and you’ve got nothing inside.¬†

It tears right through me,

you thought that you knew me,

you thought that you knew me…


But its as we all know…imperfection is inevitable. And you shouldn’t have to change yourself for anyone. And if they truly care about/love you…they won’t ask you to. They’ll love you just the way you are…



Happy Birthday To Me.

So today was my birthday. Yep. The big two-eight. Another year older…another…ugh. I hate birthdays. Always have. It’s just the principle of the things, you know? I mean, basically you’re just celebrating the fact that you’ve made it another year in this crazy, messed up world…which I guess is kind of cause for a celebration–especially in this ridiculously screwed up world and society that we live in but still…birthdays just aren’t my thing. They just make me feel old. And I know that in the grand scheme of things that 28 isn’t all that old, but still. Two years to thirty. I guess that birthdays to me just feel like a slap in the face in terms of where I am in my life…like the world pointing out how far I STILL am in accomplishing the¬†dreams and the goals in my life that honestly, I thought I’d have achieved by now. I mean, I had this plan…this set picture in my mind 10 years ago when I was graduating high school of where I’d be right now and well…to put it simply…I’m nowhere close to that. And I feel like a failure in that regard. And I hate feeling that way. I mean, I get that so much has changed and happened in these ten years and that when it comes down to it, I’m just not that same person I was at 18 so it makes sense that I wouldn’t be where I thought I’d be…but that’s not really a consolation. I thought I’d be set by now…career-wise, personally…the whole package. I thought I’d have this great career doing what I love, that I’d settled…possibly starting a family or at least on the working path towards that…and I’m just not there. I’m not even close.



That’s not to say that I’m unhappy, because I’m not. I’m happy with where I am right now…I’m just not entirely satisfied. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be. If even when I do get there and I do achieve these dreams…will I be satisfied? I wish I could be sure that I would, you know? But I just don’t think that’s one guarantee I’ll ever really get…that we ever really get. I do want to believe that everything happens for a reason…even if I don’t understand the reasoning or the logic behind some of those things. And I want to hold on to the hope that one day I will get everything I’ve dreamed of having…maybe even more if I’m lucky…but it’s a hard thing to have faith in. And a hard hope to hold on to. That’s just the way it is. Life. Living. It really throws you for a loop, you know? Even when you think you’ve got it all figured out…even when you think everything is going perfectly and you’re on the right path…you don’t. You just don’t.



Anyhow, it wasn’t a good birthday. For starters, it was weird not having my family around. I mean, I think this is probably the first birthday that they haven’t been with me to celebrate. And it felt strange. A bunch of my friends and I had made plans to head out to Rock Island and do some cliff-jumping…but the weather didn’t exactly hold up for that and with all this concussion nonsense, I figured it probably wasn’t the brightest or best¬†idea to go jumping from some cliff into the waterfall pool, some 20-30 or so feet below it. Yeah. No.



And speaking of the whole concussion situation, it’s not going well. At all. I ended up back at the ER yesterday, for the third time since the accident happened, literally desperate for any kind of relief from this headache from absolute HELL. They ran another scan, the results of which were alright, and gave me the same diagnosis as the previous ER…that the headaches were part of the post-concussive syndrome that some people–myself being one of them–are unfortunate to endure following a pretty bad concussion like the one I apparently sustained in the car accident. They gave me a shot of something that thankfully dulled the headache–it didn’t get rid of it entirely unfortunately–for a couple of hours or so, then released me with a couple of referrals to the Concussion Clinic at Vanderbilt and another medical clinic here in Murfreesboro. The headache was right back to its usual hellish intensity about an hour after I left…so no such luck in the relief department…only a few very, very fleeting hours. They prescribed me something different for the headaches, so no more of those nasty narcotics that have had little¬†success in doing anything other than making me throw up 3 or 4 times a day. Yeah…it’s not fun. And the meds they prescribed for the nausea make me sleepy…so it’s a catch-22. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. If I take the meds, I get very little pain relief but even a little is something…but to take them, I have to take the anti-nausea meds, which basically make me pass out…and being unconscious kind of makes it half to do well…anything really. And I don’t take the meds, I’m stuck in bed, in my dark room, desperate for the room to stop spinning and feeling like someone’s little driving an ax through my skull and I’m somehow feeling every little inch of it. It sucks. And to make matters worse–none of the referrals I’ve been given had gotten me anywhere. Basically I’ve been getting the same roadblock everywhere I call. It’s either “sorry, we don’t take out-of-state insurance” or “sorry, we don’t handle third-party-auto-insurance/claims/injuries” or “sorry, you’re not a Tennessee-resident so we can’t help you”…so the impression I’m getting is that the only way I’m going to be getting any kind of treatment–outside of an ER–is if I go back to New York and go through my primary care doctor there. Which I don’t want to have to do. Not only that, but I have a lease that I can’t exactly break by going back to New York. And classes¬†starting again in August. And work obligations to fulfill. I can’t just leave and go back to New York. And I shouldn’t have to. I mean, this wasn’t my fault. The accident wasn’t MY fault. And it just seems absolutely crazy to me that although the¬†accident happened in Tennessee and I’m residing here and going to school–that because I’m a New York resident, I’m being denied any kind of further treatment for an injury that happened HERE, in TENNESSEE. I mean, it makes no sense to me. And I’ve tried. I’ve called each and every referral I’ve been giving and nothing. Today, I found out that the Vanderbilt Concussion Clinic I was referred to yesterday at the ER specializes primarily in sports-related concussions and not auto-related concussion injuries. And according to their Neurology department there, the doctors that DO treat outside of sports-related cases, won’t deal with out-of-state- insurances. And when I tried to explain how that while yes, I technically do have New York State health insurance, it’s not my insurance that is going to be footing the medical bills, but rather the auto-insurance company, that’s when they gave me the whole “sorry, we can’t help you” spiel. So, I tried the other referral, the medical clinic here in Murfreesboro. The lady that answered was real sweet and sympathetic and even spoke to the neurologist and nurse there in the clinic while I was still on the line, but ultimately told me that they too, don’t handle what they call “third-party-auto-insurance-involved injuries”. And they didn’t have any idea who to refer me to. So, basically…another dead end.



It’s just so frustrating, you know? I mean, I know that most car accidents are frustrating and all and that no one likes to have to be in/deal with one…but seriously…why me? That’s what I want to know. Why now? I literally had just gotten back to Tennessee a little over a week before. I was excited about the film and being back in TN and seeing all my friends again. I was getting settled into the new apartment. Things were going smoothly and then the accident. Now I’m in limbo with these headaches that god forbid can last months, even years–though¬†I really and truly¬†hope they don’t–in and out of ER’s, on meds that pretty much make it impossible for me to function at all–but I’d be screwed just as much–more likely¬†more–than¬†if I didn’t take them, and having to go through this whole kit-and-caboodle¬†involving insurance companies and claims and lawyers…and it’s all just a mess. Just a big, chaotic, WHY ME WORLD kind of mess. I’m just so emotionally, mentally, and physically¬†drained from it all and–to be perfectly honest–just plain desperate. I would truly give just about anything right now to get rid of these headaches and for all of this to be over and done with so I can get back to having fun while acclimating myself to a life here in Tennessee, and can actually start LIVING again. I just want to get back to my life and put all of this misfortune behind me. That’s all I want. And from where I’m standing right now, it doesn’t look like the odds are much in my favor. In fact, it kind of seems–and feels–like that’s just probably¬†never going to happen. Like ever.



So that’s how I spent my birthday…on the phone for most of the day getting the run around by everyone and anyone in the medical profession down here in Middle Tennessee. Someone mentioned that I should contact the auto insurance and get a list of doctors from them that they can guarantee will work with me on this, but I can’t do that because when my lawyer called yesterday to introduce himself and explain some things, I was told NOT to have any further contact with the insurance company…and that all¬†communication between them and myself will be going through him. I left¬†the lawyer a message today though explaining my dilemma with the referrals, but I probably won’t hear back from him until Monday or Tuesday at the latest when he gets back in the office. So, in the meantime, I wait…and suffer through these awful headaches…and it sucks. It really, really sucks.



And to top off the birthday from HELL, I called¬†my sister this afternoon to get her opinion on¬†all that was going on and to ask what I should do and found out that my grams was going to the hospital. She’d brought the kids out to my sister’s place for a little “end of school/summer vacation” pool party and apparently while she was sitting on the deck telling my sister a story about something, her hands started to go numb and she was mixing up her words. I guess she seemed okay after a few minutes, but my sister insisted she be checked out first, so they took her out to Upstate in Syracuse, where they’re treating it as a stroke. My grams, of course, shrugged the little incident off and didn’t want to go, but she went. She hates hospitals. Like hates them. And we’re lucky if she even sees her doctor for her annual physical. The woman won’t go to the doctors no matter how sick or how much pain she’s in. She just won’t. And she’s stubborn as hell about it, too. Her only focus is the kids. She worries herself sick over them and doesn’t take care of herself like she should. Today’s incident was just an-all-too-real-and-unpleasant reminder of her age. I mean, the woman’s going to be 75 years old in September–though you’d never know it by looking her. She jokes that its the kids that keep her young, but the simple reality is that she’s not getting any younger. And she can’t do everything all at once like she used to. She needs to slow down…but she won’t.



When my sister filled me in on what happened with my grams…I nearly grabbed my things and left for New York. It was scary. I mean, this was one of my biggest fears…that something would happen to someone up there and I’d be 900 miles away, completely useless. Again–and its like I was telling the Bestie earlier when she called–I feel so guilty that I’m not there…that its almost like I’m essentially choosing and want to be in Nashville rather than be with them. It’s not that simple, but the principle is pretty much there. I mean, I’m happy here. Happier than I was when I was living with them. And I feel horrible for saying that, but it’s the truth. It’s nothing against them per se…it just is.



But hopefully come morning I’ll have an update and god-willing my grams will be okay and they’ll release her to go home. I can’t even begin to imagine–and hopefully I’ll never have to–what I’d do if anything happened to her. She practically raised my siblings and I. She’s my rock, my mentor, my idol, my hero, my biggest supporter/fan, and the strongest, bravest, most selfless person I know.



So that was my birthday. Definitely not the best one I’ve had…but hopefully everything starts to looks up after today. Oh, God, do I hope so…




Not Going Nowhere.

I’m starting¬†to understand now why people who are in constant pain are always so miserable…it sucks. It really, really sucks. It’s been over a week now since the accident and the headaches STILL haven’t gone away. I’m beginning to think they’re never going to. At least, that’s how it feels right now, anyhow. I don’t get it. I went to the ER, I had the scans, I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing and taking the meds that the doctor told me take…and nothing. I’ve been taking the Percocet, Vicodin, and even the 800 mg Ibruprofen together and it hasn’t helped any, except to make me nauseous as hell. And throwing up just makes my head hurt even worse. I’m sure it doesn’t help that I haven’t had much sleep in the past week…but that’s not my fault. It’s a little hard to fall asleep when you have a splitting headache.


And to top it all off, there’s all the stress from the film and getting the photos ¬†edited and¬†finished, and we have the theatrical shoot tomorrow, so it’s been kind of crazy. Then there’s the deal with the car and the insurance company and the lawyers and I swear to God, if my head wasn’t already pounding, I’d scream. I probably sound and seem like I’m being a child and throwing a tantrum, but I don’t want to deal with all this. I really don’t. I don’t get why the damn insurance company went and totaled the car. I mean, I do–it’s cheaper to total it than actually pay for the repairs–but still. Those repairs the guy noted–I honestly don’t think they even need to be done right now. He said something about the radiator and the a/c condenser being bowed in the accident…and sure, down the road they’d probably have to be replaced, but right now the truck runs completely fine. Granted, the a/c doesn’t always blow out super cold air like it used to–which kind of sucks when you’re in the middle of a summer heat wave–but it’s not that big of a deal. I mean, what do you think people did before cars had a/c? They rolled down the window and dealt with it. I’m perfectly fine doing that. The insurance guy did tell me to keep an eye on the temperature gauge on the dash, just to make sure the car doesn’t start to overheat because of the radiator being bowed in the accident…but so far, I haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary with it.


Aside from those two things (the radiator and a/c condenser thingamajig), all the other repairs are mostly just cosmetic. And honestly, I don’t care if the bumper’s a little dented and cracked…I really don’t. It’s a car and it gets from point A to point B…and that’s really all I care about it. But since they totaled it, I’m pretty much screwed. Either I just suck it up and use the insurance money to get a new car or I keep the car, take the money, and go through who knows how long and ridiculous of a process that you have to go through after a car’s been totaled to get it legal and insured again. And my mother keeps calling, wanting to know what I’m going to do and I literally don’t have the patience to deal with it…or her. I know I have to, and yes, maybe I’m acting like a petulant child here, but I don’t want to. I just don’t. I don’t have the patience or the energy right now to deal with all of it. As if my mother calling and telling me to call the insurance people and let them know what I want to do isn’t frustrating and annoying enough…today she went and sent me a text asking if I thought the truck would make it back to New York. Yeah. I pretty much sent her a text back telling her she’s crazy if she actually thinks I’m going to drive 15 hours so she can deal with all the ¬†truck stuff with the title and the insurance and whatnot. Hell no, it’s NOT happening. I hate that drive. And there’s no way in hell I’m going to make it when I’ve got the headache from hell that doesn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. I mean, I get that she’s trying to be helpful by dealing with the whole car end of it all for me…but no. I’m not doing it. And it’s not just about the drive itself–it’s the fact that if I do drive the truck back, once everything gets taken of with turning in the plates and finding a replacement–then I’m still going to have to make that awful drive back down here. Of course, she’s probably not even considering that because for some reason, she’s got this idea in her head that in light of the accident and my¬†concussion and these damn headaches that won’t let up, I’m just going to change my mind about Tennessee and move back to New York. Yeah…she’s got another thing coming because that’s not happening. Hell, it doesn’t even make sense. I got into an accident…yes. And the headaches aren’t no walk in the park…but even if I wanted to–which I don’t, by the way–I can’t just up and leave and go back to New York. I don’t know what she’s thinking. I mean, for starters–I have a lease that’s not up until January. Not to mention the film and my work. I have commitments and obligations here that I can’t just up and walk away from it all simply because some guy wasn’t paying attention to the road and ran into me. It doesn’t work like that. And even if it did–I don’t want to go back to New York. I just don’t. And maybe it’s horrible and selfish of me to not want to be¬†there¬†with my family…but I don’t. I like it here. Aside from the crazy drivers and the interstates that could easily be mistaken for a demolition¬†derby the majority of the time with all their traffic and accidents…Nashville is a beautiful city. And I love it. I love the people, the atmosphere–all of it. And I like the person¬†I can be–the person that¬†I am–down here. ¬†I mean, don’t get me wrong or anything–I totally wouldn’t have minded having my family close by when I got in the accident instead of them being 900 miles away…of course I wouldn’t have minded. It was scary as hell and it hurt–it still hurts–and I definitely feel like an idiot at times ¬†because I have absolutely no idea what I’m supposed to be doing or how I’m supposed to handle all of this stuff with the doctors and the insurance and the lawyers. I’ve never been in any kind of accident like this before, so I don’t know what’s supposed to be done. And I’m entirely grateful that my mother’s offered to deal with the car end…but she’s going to have to do it from up there because there’s no way in hell I’m driving to New York. No way. Even if by some miracle I woke up tomorrow and the headaches were gone…I still wouldn’t drive up there. I’d like to see them make that 15 hour drive and see how they like it. Hell, they won’t even come down here to visit because it’s too far of a drive. But they have no problem expecting me to do it and acting like it’s not a big deal when I say I won’t do it because of the drive. I mean, I may be part gypsy–as my grams is always saying–and I do enjoy traveling…just not where the driving is concerned. I hate driving. For real. I think it was fun and exciting for about a month after I got my license at 16…and that’s about it. After that it was all, go here, go there, give so-and-so a ride…yeah. It’s not just having to be the driver, either. I can’t stand being the passenger in a car for any real length of time, either. Probably because I get bored easily…that and car-sick. So yeah, my preferred mode of transportation for traveling is definitely not a car. Planes are okay though. I love flying. It’s faster and I typically just take a couple of Dramamine pills and take a nap for the duration of the flight.


So anyhow, I don’t know where this all leaves me or what I’m going to do with the truck or the rest of it…but I’ll figure it out, I guess. One thing I do know for sure though is that I’m not driving to New York. If my mother wants to come down here and take care of things, all the more power to her. But I’m staying put and hopefully–hopefully¬†I’ll figure out something to do about¬†these damn headaches very, very soon.


‘Til Then,


Some Friend-ly Advice.

So the Bestie called me earlier, on the verge of a little breakdown. Apparently she and the boyfriend got into an argument and he’d packed his bags and left. She filled me in on what went down and the argument and how, naturally, she was upset. She needed to vent, which is fine because that’s what friends are for. It always strikes me as funny though how something will happen with the guy in her life and she’ll call me up to get my opinion and to ask for my advice. It’s funny because, well…I don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to relationships. I mean, there’s kind of a reason why my friend, Alan (who’s literally only known me now for just over six months by the way) is always telling me that he wants to write a screen play of my love life. I’m not kidding when I say that he doesn’t even know the half of it. And I know he’s just being funny and not at all trying to hurt or offend me…or anything¬†like that. In fact–to be perfectly honest–he’s kind of right. Some of the relationships and experiences I’ve had…they are pretty crazy and entertaining, I’ll admit. Granted, they kind of sucked at the time–boy, did they suck–but now I can look back and laugh and shake my head in comical disbelief right along with him. My love life…much like most other aspects of my life…has seen some pretty messy, crazy, and chaotic times. But in a way, I guess each of those experiences taught¬†me something.



In a weird way–and I’m not quite sure yet whether it’s a good thing or not–I’ve sort of become an expert on what NOT to do when it comes to relationships. So when the Bestie calls and asks for my advice…it’s pretty ironic. I mean, I’m more than happy to sit just there and listen to her vent and work through all the emotions and feelings she’s having. And don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad that she feels comfortable enough to pour her heart out to me…and maybe even a little flattered that she trusts my judgement and advice in these kind of situations…but still, it’s weird. I’ve pointed out to her dozens of times¬†over the years that I’m probably the last person she should be getting advice from in so far as it relates to love lives and guys…but she insists that I give great advice…and that I always somehow know exactly what to say. It’s one of those “agree to disagree” kind of things. Honestly, I think she gives me way too much credit. All I do really is just tell her how it is, or how I see particular things. It’s not really advice per se that I’m giving…more like observations. I think we all need someone like that in our lives…a¬†person that isn’t afraid to tell you how it is…someone who doesn’t sugarcoat the truth, even if hearing that truth stings or hurts. When it comes down to it, I think that’s ¬†exactly why she calls me–and not one of her other friends that she could probably just as easily vent about these things to–because (even if its just subconsciously) she knows I’m not going to sugarcoat anything or make her feel better by telling her what she wants to hear. I don’t do that. Rather, I practice what I preach…and I’ve always¬†resented those¬†people who skirt the truth by placating you because they don’t want to hurt you. Doing that doesn’t make you noble, at least not in my book. And in the long run, it doesn’t do anyone any good. I’m not saying that fudging the truth a little to make someone feel better makes you a horrible person or a bad friend…it doesn’t. It’s just my own personal preference. I’d rather that people (my friends especially) were upfront and honest with me. Even if it’s not what I want to hear. Even if it hurts.



I’ve always tried to follow that¬†whole “do unto others as you would have done to you” mantra. And so when the Bestie calls me up crying and asking for my advice, I try to be as understanding and as sympathetic as I can be. I mean, it’s not like I enjoy hearing or knowing that she’s hurting. It sucks. And I’m sure¬†it would be easier to just tell her what she wants to hear. I’m not going to lie–I’ve been tempted at times to tell her that one little white lie that I know would make her feel better than how she was feeling in that particular moment…and sometimes I have done that. But for the most part, I try my best to not to do that. Just as¬†relationships depend on and are built around¬†honesty and trust, the same goes for friendships. I think that’s one of the main reasons why the Bestie and I have managed to sustain this friendship all these years. I mean, we’ve been through some crazy sh** over the years. We’ve had our disagreements…times when we’ve hated one another and didn’t talk for days, sometimes even weeks…and some pretty intense fights that–for most people–would have been the breaking point that severed the friendship. I can’t tell you how many times over the years or how many people have commented and said that¬†they couldn’t believe how we were still friends after all the crazy things we did and the horrible things we have¬†said or done to each other. I even find it hard to believe at times, myself. But for whatever reason, the friendship has kept. The whole “honesty” thing might have something to do with it. Rather, I’m sure it does. To some degree, at least. And clearly, it works for us. And as they always say, you shouldn’t mess with a good thing. It’s true, you really shouldn’t.



So when she calls and asks my opinion, I give it to her. And it’s not always pretty or nice. I mean, I love the girl to death and she is one of my best friends–hell, she’s practically like a sister to me–but she’s not perfect. And she’s not always right, much to her dismay, I’m sure. But it is what it is. I’m not afraid to tell her when she’s wrong. Or that she was being ridiculous¬†and childish or–more often than not the case tends to be–that she’s overreacting and/or reading too much into things. She does that a lot. She’s got a temper and a stubborn streak a mile long–not so much unlike myself–and tends to get jealous/angry at even the most innocent and littlest of things, especially in where it relates to her relationships. I’ve lost track of the number of times over the years that she’s called me up crying/angry/upset because she happened to “find” what she considered a¬†“suspicious” text or picture on her boyfriend/the guy she happened to be seeing at the time’s phone¬†from some other girl and in the length of the time it took her to dial my number and for me to answer, had convinced herself that she was being cheated on or that “something” was going on behind her back. It’s so horrible, but I’ve always found those phone calls to be entertaining. For starters, there was the fact that it was her “snooping” that got her into the¬†particular dilemma/drama she was calling me about. I swear I’ve told the girl half a million times that if she doesn’t want to find out things she doesn’t want to know about, then she needs to stop going through people’s phones without their permission. It never fails with her. She snoops through the phone, finds something that is most likely (and usually turns out to be) innocent, and automatically jumps to the worst conclusion, taking things completely out of context. And for as long as I’ve known her, rarely…VERY rarely…has¬†that ever worked out well or ended well for her. She’s a little crazy–we all are where love is concerned though, in some way or another–and she doesn’t always think things through before she does or says them. But that’s just her.



Anyhow… (sorry, I got a little sidetracked there…) she was pretty upset when she called earlier. I couldn’t help but feel bad/sad for her…even a little¬†guilty. I mean, she’s got a lot going on right now and things between her and the boyfriend haven’t been the greatest lately, or so¬†I’ve gathered from what she’s said. I don’t know the whole story of what went down and I’m sure there’s a lot more to it than what she did share with me, but whatever it was, it was the final straw, so to speak. She doesn’t know what to do–if she should stay at the apartment or find something else…or if this whole fight between her and the boyfriend will blow over like all the others before this one have…or if it’s really over and he’s really not coming back. She’s a little broken¬†up about it–which is completely understandable. I mean they’ve been together almost three years now and–even though personally I think the guy’s a total douche and that she both deserves and could do better–she loves him. And I get that. I really do. But I also know how much it sucks to be the girl that will stand there and watch him go, and stand right there until he comes back–and he’ll always come back because he¬†knows you’ll never turn him away–while¬†secretly harboring the hope that it’ll be different this time…that he’ll stop treating you like you’re dispensable and worthless and instead, start treating and loving like you like he should…like you deserve. I’ve been there. I’ve been that girl. I’ve waited. Too long, I waited in the name of love. And it was all for nothing. It’s not the same as what the Bestie is going through right now, but the principle is the same. I just wish I could do more than just listen to her voice all her frustrations over the phone, but it’s really all I can do because I’m here and she’s there. In the past, whenever one of us had some kind of boy problem like this, we’d usually take off and go driving down some back roads somewhere with some sad Celine Dion songs blasting from the speakers that we’d be singing¬†off-key to, until we found a spot somewhere to pull over and we’d literally talk for hours. Way, way back in the day, we would have gone out to a bar or something¬†and drink until we forgot all about the boy problems…and even our names, sometimes. Distractions…we were so great at that. But things are different now. We live 900 miles away from one another. I did tell her she was more than welcome to come down here and get away from things for however long she needed to, but I’m pretty sure that’s never going to happen. As much good as probably would do her to get away from New York for a bit and that whole boyfriend situation…I don’t think she’d actually do it. Even if she could afford it, chances are her and the boyfriend will have made up by the time she got the time off from work…and she won’t leave him. I wish she’d see how unhealthy their relationship is…at least that’s how it looks to an outsider. I want so badly to tell her that. To tell her she doesn’t need him to be happy…and that she can love him and STILL chase her dreams. She’s always wanted to travel, to do things…and from what she’s told me, he doesn’t sound at all supportive of her dreams…just his own. And the fucked up part is that she knows it…but she still wants to be with him. And I’m literally between a rock and a hard place¬†because she’s my friend and I want her to be happy, but it’s not my place to tell her she needs to just end it with that self-serving douchebag. Even though I’ve been there…and I know his type all too well…and I have this feeling its not going to end well for her. Even though I know ALL of that, I can’t say anything because I know she has to come to that realization on her own, at her own pace. Just like I did. And its going to suck. Like really, really suck. And I hate that. But its inevitable and unavoidable. Maybe they’ll break up, maybe they won’t. For her sake, I just hope things work out the way she hopes they will. She could use¬†a little happiness in her life. Hell, we all could.



Speaking of break-ups, I was actually moving more of my stuff in earlier tonight, which included all my journals–all 14 of them–and coincidentally, while I¬†was flipping through the entries¬†of the one from a few years ago. One of the entries had this funny little list that I’d put together one night. I guess I was feeling a little wistful when I wrote it, or something. Anyhow, it was a little list describing what I penned “The 5 Stages of A Break-Up.” It’s stupid and ridiculous and clearly the product of my lame amusement one night, but I thought I’d share anyhow. Here it is…


The 5 Stages of A Break-Up…According to Messie.

5 stages of a breakup by messie


STAGE 1: The “CRY ME A RIVER” stage.

-This is the onset stage that pretty much immediately follows a break-up. Similar to¬†the denial stage when you’re grieving…because well, technically you have lost someone. Someone that maybe you liked or loved…or at the very least, someone you thought had the potential to be some kind of permanent fixture in your life. But, as it turns out, that potential was never real. It was just a figment of your imagination. Just part of some fantastical happily-ever-after you had been envisioning since you were 5 years old when¬†some guy named Walt Disney subliminally¬†brainwashed you into thinking that you were one day going to be a¬†princess in a really pretty dress that would¬†ride off into the sunset on the back of a beautiful white horse with some perfect guy named Prince Charming. This stage usually involves a lot of tears, several pints of double fudge chocolate ice cream, and a good number of boxes of Kleenex…hopefully the soft,¬†lightly-scented, lotion-infused kind. In this stage you can expect to spend a good majority of your waking hours lying in a bed of blankets, listening to sappy, sad songs with lyrics that somehow relate so perfectly to you, and feeling as though your life will never again be the same…and that you’ll never be happy again…that you’re going to be alone forever… This stage is basically a three or four-month long pity party with only person in attendance: YOU.




-This stage involves a lot of anger and resentment and cursing…lots and lots of cursing. Oh, and screaming. That’s right, screaming. It doesn’t always have to be the loud, wake up your neighbors and end up having the cops break¬†down your door because they think someone’s being murdered or something kind of screaming, necessarily. Believe it or not, there IS such a thing as silent screaming. You just open your mouth, twist your face into this grisly kind of expression that almost looks painful, and scream…silently. Granted, it’s not as effective as the first kind of screaming, and it’s not nearly quite as personally fulfilling…but it does the job. In this stage, some individuals may even choose to print out a picture of the aforementioned individual that fucked them over and engage in a cheap, cost-effective but not so security-deposit friendly, game of darts. But use caution and fair¬†judgement while engaging in this kind of activity for, as with many activities of this nature, it can be quite addictive.



Stage 3: The “FAKE IT ‘TIL YOU MAKE IT” stage.

-This is the stage where you lie. Pretty much. Basically, you pretend to be fine in conversation and/or the presence of family, friends, and perfect strangers just to make them feel better about the fact that your life is in shambles and to avoid those all-too-curious, fix-it types that like to pop up everywhere, and in the most inopportune of times. People are gullible. Remember that. Use it. Own it. And I can’t press this enough…lie. And if you’re not so good at lying, well, try this. Stand in front of a mirror for like 10 minutes or so every morning and repeat to yourself, “I’m fine. He’s a jerk and a loser and old as fuck and she can have him. I’m better off without him.” Remember that old mantra: practice makes perfect. The more you do this, the more routine it will become. Soon you’ll be saying the words in your sleep. Well, maybe not in your sleep, but yeah. Eventually you’ll start to believe it. And in time, you’ll realize it’s no longer even¬†a lie. That he is old as fuck. And that you are better off without him. Everyone knows there’s always a little truth behind every lie. Finding a happy medium between¬†the two–well, that’s a skill set that takes patience and time. So chin up, girl! You’ll get there. I promise.



Stage 4: The “It Takes A Village” stage.

-This is the stage where you crawl out from beneath¬†your fort of blankets, leave that curtains-drawn-misery-laden apartment you’ve been holed up in for months, stop feeling sorry for yourself…and actually–FINALLY–start living again. Invite your girlfriends over and veg out all night long with some nice red–or white, if you prefer–wine. Laugh along with them when they tell you all about how they saw him out with her and how ugly and fat he’s gotten. I mean really, really laugh…’til you’ve ¬†got tears running down your face and you’re spitting wine out of your nose…and you want to stop, but you can’t. And every time you get close to actually pulling it together, one of your friends makes some goofy face and the giggles start anew. And they can’t be contained and you realize that they’re all just a bunch of crazy fools–but¬†so are you because you wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world because they’re the best people you know and because they know just what to say to make you feel better. And when all the wine is gone and your ribs are aching because you laughed far too much and too hard and you’re just about to pass out because you’re drunk as hell…you smile. You smile because even though you know you’re going to feel like death and have the hangover from hell when morning comes, you don’t care. You don’t care because for one whole night, you finally felt like YOU again. And you feel good and happy and relaxed–and not just because your blood alcohol content is through the roof–but because you realize that you’re the luckiest girl in the world because you have friends like yours in your life.



Stage 5: The “Move The Fuck On” stage.

-This stage is pretty self-explanatory. Unfortunately, there’s no set time for when you’ll reach this stage. It’s different for everyone. So stop staring at the calendar and/or reading those damn self-help books with their supposed “healing” timelines. When the time¬†comes–and it will come!–trust me…you’ll know. You’ll know because weeks and months will have passed¬†by before you even realize that you hadn’t¬†once thought about him in all¬†of that time. You’ll actually forget the last time when you did. And you’ll hear his name and associate it with someone else you know with the same name. You’ll know because someone will bring¬†him up in casual conversation and you won’t even have¬†to pretend disinterest like you typically¬†would have had to in the past…because you really and truly AREN’T the least bit interested where he’s concerned. This is the stage where you box up the past and store all those memories of him in the teeny-tinny-ist,¬†most isolated corner of your memory¬†with all the other regrets and mistakes you’ve made in your life and never want to think about again. This is the stage where you forgive yourself for being so naive¬†and foolish and thank your lucky stars that it all worked out the way that¬†it was meant to…and you feel grateful beyond words that you’ll never have to see his face again. This is when you try again…when you pick yourself up, brush yourself off, and take that flying leap of faith…and you move the fuck on. This–yeah, this¬†is where the fun really starts… ¬† ūüôā





Ridiculous, right? I know. I out-amuse myself sometimes, I really, really do. ūüôā



Concussed, she is.

I can’t win. Seriously. Ever. It’s like the hits just keep on coming…and coming. Yeah. Today was NOT a good day. I’ve barely slept the past three days, thanks to the headache from HELL that I’ve had since the accident Monday night. As frustrating as it’s been, I’ve been trying to just be patient and just wait for it to go away on its own. I figured it was just a tension headache or something from the stress of all this accident aftermath. Annoying, but temporary. Until today. I woke up at like 6 am and my head was literally pounding. I got out of bed to get a water from the fridge to take a pain pill with…and didn’t make it two steps before everything started spinning and I was running into the bathroom to throw up. As if that wasn’t¬†bad enough, afterwards I was standing at the sink brushing my teeth and out of nowhere, blood just started gushing from my nose. Trust me, it wasn’t a pretty sight. After I’d finally gotten the blood stopped, I went back to bed to lay down again for a while. I woke up a few hours later and was sitting at the computer working on some photo edits for the film when I got another nosebleed. Naturally, I thought it seemed a bit strange–two nosebleeds within an hour–especially considering I only remember ever having maybe two or three nosebleeds in my entire life. Even so, I didn’t pay much mind to it…until I had a third one no more than an hour later, if that. That’s when I really started to worry and realized that something wasn’t right.


I was about to head out and drive back to the ER when the lawyer called. She asked me some questions about the accident and the insurance dealings I’ve had the past two days, and my injuries. She sounded like she might take on the case, which is a good thing. When I told her about the headaches and the nosebleeds, she cut me right off and told me to get right to ER…and call her back in the morning to discuss the next steps in this whole process.


So that’s what I did. I hung up with her and drove right to the hospital in Symrna–about 12 or so miles from here–that, according to reviews on the internet, had a really good Emergency Room. It’s associated with the hospital I went to in Nashville after the accident, so I didn’t think it mattered if I went to the one that was closer. Yeah…big mistake. I think I’d have been better off driving the additional 20 miles to the other hospital. It was that bad. I got there around 5 pm or so, I think, and waited about 30 mins to be triaged. Then about 20 minutes after that, a nurse came out and brought me back to have a CT scan. After the test, I went back out to the lobby to wait for a room to open up. That was at about 6 pm or so. Yeah. I literally didn’t back to a room until almost 9:30 pm. THREE¬†freaking hours I had to wait there, my head pounding and eyes hurting from the¬†hospital-fluorescent lighting. It was ridiculous. The staff claimed they were super busy and that they were just waiting for rooms to open up…and that’s why it was taking so long. Yeah…total bullshit. There were people that got there AFTER I did that weren’t at all emergent-patients (there was this one guy that had the flu and another was some teen¬†girl that sprained her finger in a car door and others…) that were brought back to rooms, treated, and discharged–like 2 hours before I even got called back. It was bullshit. And the reception/triage staff were being so rude and telling people to basically just suck it up and sit there and wait…that they’d get to them when they got to them…that they were busy and were treating people on an acuity basis. It probably wasn’t mature of me, but as I was leaving, I called out the male intake nurse on his bullshit lie that they were treating on an acuity basis…pointing out for his future reference that–while I’m not a medical professional–I’m pretty sure a concussion trumps a damn sprained pinky finger. Yep, I was pissed. And rightly so.


Post-Concussive Syndrome…that’s the official diagnosis, according to the doctor that finally came in to see me. I didn’t like him. From the second he walked in, he rubbed me the wrong way. He could tell that I was pissed off and annoyed to have had to wait for 4 hours out there just to be seen…and his attitude just added fuel to the fire. Especially when he started asking me about the nosebleeds and went off on this whole “well, you know people watch a lot of TV and movies and think that nosebleeds are associated with concussions…but technically aren’t” cocky spiel, which pissed me off. So I clarified for him that I never said the nosebleeds had anything to do with a concussion or the accident…just that I’d had three and that I NEVER had nosebleeds until now. Then he proceeded to give me this ridiculous demonstration on what you’re supposed to do when you get a nosebleed and the proper way to tilt your head and well…all that bullshit. Finally I was fed up and just came right out and asked him what the CT showed and what was causing the headaches, and what I had to do to make them go away. That’s when he started talking concussion. Apparently I hit my head pretty darn good in the accident. Lucky me. Anyhow, he wanted to give me some shot, but I opted for the pain pills because with the shot, I wouldn’t have been able to drive back to my apartment and I wasn’t going to ask my friends to come all the way out from Nashville to bring me home and I certainly wasn’t leaving my truck there and taking a taxi. So, I took the scripts.


When I got back home, I started reading up on this whole post-concussive syndrome thing and found that its defined as :

Postconcussion syndrome, also known as postconcussive syndrome or PCS, is a set of symptoms that may continue for weeks, months, or a year or more after a concussion ‚Äď a minor form of traumatic brain injury (TBI).


Wonderful. Fucking-A-Wonderful. Just what I need. Ugh, I swear, if there was a way for me to find that bastard who thought it would be cool to stop in the middle of the fucking interstate and cause a three-car-wreck and the drive off…I’d give him more than just some minor traumatic brain injury…believe me. Damn him. As if my life weren’t complicated enough…now I gotta deal with this? It’s messed up. And so not fair. I didn’t do anything to deserve this. I was just driving home…minding my business…not bothering no one. And now…I’ve got a concussed brain and an undefined time-frame of dealing with these headaches and whatever other symptoms that may decide to show up.


Just my luck.



Too Much Information.

Okay, so I know I’ve said it before, but this whole “being an adult” thing…yeah, it really REALLY sucks. You know, sometimes I wonder what it all was¬†that our parents and teachers and other adult figures were teaching us while we were growing up because from where I’m standing, I don’t feel like I was prepared for any of this. Hell, I actually looked forward to growing up, becoming an adult…having all this power and responsibility and being the one in control of my life–I couldn’t wait…and now–now I’d give anything to just turn back the clock and be a kid again. It was all so much easier then. It’s not the greatest metaphor, but this whole idea of “adulthood” is like when you’re a little kid and you still believe in Santa Claus and everything is shiny and magical. Until someone bursts your bubble and you find out it’s not true, and all of a sudden you feel like everything in your life has been a lie. And little by little, the world starts to lose little pieces of its shine and its magic. It’s a letdown to the highest degree. And it sucks. God, does it suck…


This whole car accident situation is just ridiculous…and seriously preying on my nerves. Today was insane. I lost count of how many people from the insurance company I spoke with, and then the appraiser guy came by to do the estimate on the damages…the result of which weren’t that great. Apparently the insurance company has a policy where if the damages exceed 75 percent of the total market price of the vehicle, it’s cheaper for them just to call it a total loss. That’s what they’ve done. Apparently there was more damage than I could tell when I looked at it. The back is mostly just cosmetic, which isn’t a big deal for me. In the front though, I guess the collision pushed the bumper back and some metal rod thing in there, which shifted the radiator or A/C condensor…or something (yeah, I have no clue when it comes to cars…literally none), which is gonna cost a pretty penny in parts and labor to repair, so it jacked up the damages cost. Anyhow, the report he sent me was like reading gibberish. I didn’t have a clue what any of it meant, so I just forwarded it to my mother and told her to decide what she wanted to do…seeing how technically the car’s in her name and its her insurance policy (because the guy that hit me, turns out–didn’t have insurance…yep), and she knows more about these things than I do.


Then there’s this whole personal injury claim. There’s two other people dealing with that part and were calling me nonstop today for information and whatnot. Honestly, I didn’t even/still don’t want to deal with it. I just wasn’t in the mood. My knee hurts like hell and I still have the headache from when I was in the ER the other night after the accident. I figured it was just from crying or stress or something and that it’d go away…but no. Not¬†even the high-dose Ibruprofen and Vicodin I’m taking for my knee has helped with it. It sucks. So, it looks like I’ll be heading back to the ER tomorrow or Thursday. Wonderful. Just what I need. Anyhow, the one guy handling the claim wanted to make a settlement offer right today…which I was smart enough to hold off on. Honestly, I told him to just call my mother and ask her what she wanted/thought I should do…but he wouldn’t. Apparently, even though the car’s in her name and she’s the policy holder on the insurance, I was the one driving and the one injured so they have to deal with me about it, so far as the personal injury portion goes. So I had to answer the questions and send all the forms and whatnot. I talked to my mother and father and even my sister and everyone pretty much ordered me to get in touch with a lawyer before I consider any kind of settlement offer…so to please them I called a firm up in New York and they’re supposed to be getting back in touch with me tomorrow with some answers to the questions I asked. Honestly, it’s all so annoying. I know it’s something I have to deal with, but I really don’t want to at the moment.


So yeah, that was my day. And I get the feeling it’s only getting started…and not in a good way… lucky me.



Wreck On The Highway (Here We Go Again)

So, I‚Äôm sure most of y‚Äôall have seen‚ÄĒor at least heard of‚ÄĒthe Final Destination movies ‚Ķyou know, the ones where one guy/girl has a premonition of all these people dying so he/she warns everybody, thus thwarting ‚Äúdeath‚Äôs plan‚Ä̂Ķwhich doesn‚Äôt work out too well in his/her favor because ‚Äúdeath‚ÄĚ comes back with a vengeance and kills everyone in some way or another anyhow by the time the movie‚Äôs over‚Ķyeah, those movies. Now logically, I know that‚Äôs all Hollywood fiction and whatnot‚Ķbut after the day I‚Äôve had, I‚Äôm beginning to wonder if maybe Hollywood might have been on to something‚ĶI don‚Äôt know.


The day started off kind of crappy to begin with…and then just went downhill from there…with a text I got from my friend Alan this morning that to put it simply, sort of rubbed me the wrong way, so to speak. So when I got to the set, I was still pretty annoyed and left not too long after I got there. I’d planned on meeting up with a friend that lives out in Brentwood. On the way there, I called her and we decided to meet up at my place instead since it was closer to where she works, rather than go into Brentwood. So yeah, I was on I24, heading home to Murfreesboro. The traffic was ridiculous, like it always is around that time here with the evening work rush. Anyhow, it started to clear up and get moving and then out of nowhere, some douche bag decides to just stop. Right there in the lane, in the middle of the freaking interstate. He just stopped. So the car in front of me slammed on his brakes and so did I, stopping just in time…only to have some guy rear-end me hard from behind, slamming me into the car in front of me. And the bastard that caused it all just stuck his head out the window, looked back at us and then sped off. Yeah. Like what the hell…who does that? Who stops in the middle of the freaking interstate for no reason whatsoever? It’s fucked up. Sorry for the language, but it is.


Luckily, no one was hurt. I was a little banged up though‚Ķbut I guess that‚Äôs to be expected when someone slams into you going 70 something mph. Slammed my knee‚ÄĒand of course it just had to be the same knee I messed up in high school and then re-injured a few years back when I was working at the bar‚ÄĒinto the dash pretty hard and banged up my shoulder a little. Apparently hit my head somehow, too‚ÄĒwhich I didn‚Äôt even realize or know I‚Äôd done until the ER doc pointed out the bleeding cut on the side of my head. Despite it all, I‚Äôm lucky to have walked away with just a few minor injuries. Could‚Äôve been much, much worse. So yeah, basically just some bumps and bruises. No broken bones. Just a badly sprained knee and whiplash.


On the bright side though, at least my Jeep is okay. I was too much of a crying mess right after it happened and with my knee, I didn‚Äôt even get out of the car to check the damage. And when the cops finally showed up, the one told me just to stay in the car anyhow, what with all the traffic that was still speeding by‚ÄĒless than a foot away from where we were on the shoulder. The cop that came over was really nice. He got all our statements, ticketed the guy that slammed into me, and said my car appeared to be drive able, so I could go. Before I left, he gave me directions to a hospital a few miles away and told me I was better off driving myself rather than wait for an ambulance to get through all the traffic. Of course my mother‚Äôs on the phone the whole time yelling at me and telling me to wait for an ambulance. I didn‚Äôt want to deal with that and having to have the car towed and being without a vehicle for who knows how long if I did, so I drove there myself. When I got to the ER, I checked the damage‚Ķexpecting the worst. But it was minimal. Just some back-end damage to the bumper and a bent license plate I the front. Definitely not what I was expecting, especially when I‚Äôd seen the damage to the car that hit me with its front literally crumpled up nearly to the windshield. Apparently my Jeep is pretty damn tough. It’s unbelievable, but good news for me.


So yeah. An interesting (not in a good way) day it was. I swear one of these days these Tennessee interstates are going to kill me. Hell, two near misses (this accident and my hydroplaning incident back in February) in less than six months. Definitely not a good sign. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something, I don‚Äôt know. But this sh***y luck of mine sucks. I’m pretty sure I haven’t broken any mirrors lately…so what gives? ūüė¶


So that‚Äôs that. Guess I‚Äôm in for some painful, sore few days. And the hits just keep on coming…and coming…



#FreakinDeaconFriday Adventures

Well, it’s been a roller-coaster, whirlwind of a week. For real. Starting with the apartment. As great as things went and were on Sunday, they were just as crappy on Monday when I went to pick up the keys. For starters, I got there and waited a good 2 1/2 hours just sitting there and no one telling me anything. The one girl from Sunday finally came over, gave me a key card, and told I could head over to the apartment, grab the keys that the guy I was supposed to be subletting for had left in a drawer in the kitchen, and to check out the apartment. So, I did. Yeah. Now, I’m not usually all that girly or picky when it comes to cleanliness. Personally, I prefer to keep things clean, but I’m not a neat-freak, OCD-type that expects everyone to keep their corners spotless, so to speak. And I expected a little dirt and whatnot, considering it was a guy’s apartment and that there was still another guy living there in one of the other bedroom units. But let me tell you–it was a total sh**hole. It was unreal. The carpet that I’m guessing was once either white or beige in the bedroom looked as though someone had literally poured patches of tar everywhere. It was bad. I’m talking layer upon layer of absolute filth. The wall, which I assume was supposed to be white, looked as though someone had painted patches of blue here and there and then tried to scrape it off with godknowswhat. The door to the walk-in closet was broken clear off. The mattresses were two different sizes. There were holes and scrapes all over the walls. Half empty cans of Budlight scattered around the room. And the entire apartment reeked of pot. I didn’t even bother to check the bathroom. I got the hell out of there and went back to the leasing office. When I informed the girl about the apartment, she basically shrugged and told me it wasn’t their problem. That even though I wasn’t allowed to get the keys to view the apartment beforehand because the other guy technically hadn’t moved out yet, I was still stuck with the lease and the apartment. Yeah. I was floored. And rightly so. I demanded to see the property manager who said the same thing. That I’d signed the lease–the lease that wasn’t even approved until 5 minutes before the girl had given me the okay to go and get the keys from the apartment mind you–and had the nerve to ask me what I expected from an apartment where someone had lived for 4 years and something about a “life change” and oh–I lost it. Really, really lost it. I walked out and called my family and of course, stood there bawling my eyes out on the phone while my mother bitched me out for signing a lease before I’d even seen the place–which according to the girl in the leasing office is standard practice…they don’t let you view the apartment until after you’ve signed the lease and they give you the keys. Granted, in hindsight, it was pretty dumb of me to not find that suspicious, but I was literally in la la land, thinking I’d scored this great location and deal…and pressed for time. I had to be at the promo shoot on Sunday, so I wanted to get everything done as soon as I could so I wasn’t stuck paying for a hotel for god knows how many nights until I figured out something permanent. So yeah, I jumped the gun a bit. And got screwed.

After I bawled my eyes out, I got mad. Like livid. I mean, here I was thinking that I was doing a good thing and the responsible thing–hell, I’d never even signed a lease before. I’m 27 and its the first time I’ve ever had to even worry about leases and sublets and whatnot. I sat in my car for like an hour just calling around to lawyers, trying to get some kind of idea of where I stood as far as breaking the lease went…and pretty much got nowhere. So I winged it. I went back inside, demanded copies of the papers I’d signed that the girl from Sunday never gave me and couldn’t even find when I initially went back after seeing the apartment and asked to see. I fibbed a bit and told them I wanted the paperwork right then so I could meet with a lawyer friend my brother-in-law knew from college that worked out of Antioch. There wasn’t any lawyer–and my brother-in-low went to engineering school, not law school–but they didn’t need to know that. Anyhow–that got them going. The one girl finally came over with the papers and told me that she and the property manager had talked and were willing to void the sublet lease in exchange for me signing a full lease with them, which meant I’d be able to get¬†a different apartment, on that wasn’t a sh**hole. Seeing that a full lease with them meant a 12-month lease, I said hell no on the spot. I mean, anyone who knows me knows that I don’t make plans. Hell, I don’t know what I’m going to be doing or where I’ll be one day from the next. That’s just me. Not to mention, if I was going to sign a year lease somewhere, it’d be in Nashville, not Murfreesboro, what with the 40 minute almost daily commute I’d be/am making. That’s what was great about the sublet. The lease would be up at the end of July, which I figured would give me time to figure things out with work and Ryan possibly moving down and¬†most important, it¬†would give me a chance to look for a place closer to Nashville. To make and sign a year-long commitment and contract when I know Murfreesboro is a temporary thing for me–is just illogical. And stupid. After I said no, the woman started negotiating. Ultimately, she offered me a 6-month lease with the same rent amount as I was going to pay for the sublet, which was¬†roughly about 75-100 bucks cheaper than what the current rent rate is for the type of apartment unit I’m in. Ideally, the 6 month lease would have to go…but unfortunately, I didn’t have a choice. It was either take the deal and stick it out until January or get screwed and have to keep the sublet–or be in breach of the lease and lose out on the 2 months rent I’d already paid in advance. Needless to say, I took the deal. It’s not ideal by any means, but at least the apartment she gave me shows more resemblance to what I was expecting and what’s advertised on their webpage and I get to share the apartment with 3 other girls, and not the guy slob/stoner I would have had to live with if I stuck with the sublet unit. It’s not the perfect solution/arrangement, but it could have been worse. A hell of a lot worse.

That whole apartment debacle was just the beginning of the whirlwind. Sunday was the promo shoot–which went great, by the way–for the film. After, I drove back to the hotel…only to have Alan call me up around 1am to say they’d gotten a flat tire and asked if I had AAA. Which, I do. Well…technically it’s my grandmother’s card, but we have the same name and she never uses it so she gave it to me in case I needed to. So I met up with them (Alan and a few of the cast/crew) at some fire station in Clarksville. The wait for the tow truck was epic. I swear, this cast and crew is the best…and the hilariously craziest. The conversations we had…it was unreal. Unfortunately when the two truck guy did show up, he couldn’t fix the flat because he claimed Alan’s spare was leaking air and wouldn’t make it back to Nashville. So he ended up having to tow it back. The hotel was in Clarksville, so I didn’t go with them. That was just the tip of the iceberg. Alan called me the next morning for a ride to his truck and to get the tire changed. Only the tire place wouldn’t do anything unless he brought the truck to him. So Alan decided to drive on the flat…and made it all the way to about a block–not even–from the tire place. I was following him, of course, and watched the tire spit out pieces of rubber and wear down practically to the rim. It was literally mere feet from sparking when he stopped. He’s crazy. Sooo yeah, after I went at it with the leasing office, I had to go back to Nashville (for the 2nd time that day) and call AAA again for Alan since¬†he’d bought a tire. We were given a ridiculously long 3-hour wait window…which sucked. Then the guy that showed up–and was high on¬†something, I might add–didn’t have the right tools to change the tire and no flat bed to tow the truck around the block to the place where Alan bought the tire. So we called AAA yet again, endured hours of waiting…til finally we got it towed. It was late though and I still had to drive back to Murfreesboro, which sucked–especially since I had to be back in Nashville right the next day for the dress rehearsal. It was exhausting.

Anyhow, we started shooting the film on Tuesday. We had a 6:30 am call time, so I barely got any sleep. I left the apartment around 5 or so…only to completely wipe out on the last few steps…and made¬†the idiot move of putting my hand out to break my fall. Yeah. Hurt my wrist. Had to go to the ER. The ER doc couldn’t be absolutely sure if it was broken or not because the x-rays weren’t that great, I don’t think. He said he thought it looked like a fracture, but couldn’t tell because of all the old fractures the x-rays showed on my wrist. So they called for an Ortho consult. After a good 2 hours of waiting for the guy to show up, I left to get to the set and told them to just have the Ortho guy call me with his diagnosis. Ultimately, he wants me to come in next week for more x-rays because he couldn’t be “definitively” sure if it was fractured and wanted to see me first.

Filming is going well, though. We’ve been going all week and I can’t even tell you how truly grateful I am to be working with these people on this project. They are incredible and this film is going to be absolutely amazing. I’m proud and thrilled to be a part of it, in spite of the 15+ hour days we’ve all been putting in. It’s worth it though. Or will be, in due time.

We had the day off today, so I headed on down to the Riverfront to see Charles Esten (from ABC’S Nashville) perform on the Chevy Stage for CMA Fest. I have to say, it was one of the best experiences I’ve had in Nashville to day. Without a doubt. He was amazing. Absolutely incredible. The man is so talented, and hot as hell for a guy in his late 40’s. I swear, if he wasn’t a married man…um, yeah. It was so great and it literally made my day. Not only was this was my first CMA Fest, but I got to see DEACON perform LIVEEE! It really makes me feel so blessed and glad that I’m living here in Nashville and have these opportunities. It’s just so unbelievable, so great.

Time to get some shuteye, editing all day tomorrow…Night!


**And of course, some pics from the show ūüôā **







Home Sweet Home. Southern-Style.

Oh M Ggggg!!!¬†So I’m literally bursting with excitement at the moment, so much so that I just checked into my hotel in Clarksville and instead of a much needed long, hot shower after the 15 hour straight drive from NY to Nashville I just did (I literally left NY less than 24 hours ago), along with the additional 5 or so hours going from Nashville to Murfreesboro and then back to Clarksville–holy hell, let me tell me you that was one insane drive–instead I’m sitting here on the is comfy hotel room bed and posting like I just shot up or something. It’s crazy. But good, awesome, happy vibes kind of crazy. Like I said, OMG!!


So yeah, I’m back in Tennessee–obviously–and it’s just me, no Ryan…nothing. I decided it’d be easier just to drive straight through the night, figuring there’d be less traffic that way and whatnot and I left late so that I’d get in around the time to check in at the hotel and get some shuteye/ready before I have to head off to the promotional shoot for the film tonight. I was pretty hyped up until about 3/4 of the way through Ohio. I swear, that state seemed to go on forever and ever…and well, EVER. And it was boring as hell. I think I pretty much ended up calling everyone I knew wouldn’t be in bed and talked to fill the time. But then my phone died, of course, and I couldn’t for the life of me remember where I put the car charger and wasn’t about to pull over and dig through the mountain of stuff I have packed tight in that jeep, so it was just me and the lonely, lonely road. Nothing but road. Forever. I swear, it took me hours to get to Cincinnati. I kept seeing signs for it for literally like 200 miles and eventually I was like, what the hell…so that was annoying. And then, wouldn’t you know, once I finally cleared Ohio and made it into Kentucky, they had the interstate shut down–not sure if it was a wreck or road work–so I was stuck taking this unmarked detour and nearly ended up lost…in Kentucky, of all places. And by that I mean, even if my phone was charged, it would’ve been useless because apparently Kentucky is the land¬†of no-cell-service…or at the least the good majority of it. So yeah, not fun. Finally, I think I pulled off in a rest stop near Louisville to try and get some shuteye…which was practically impossible because I literally have the jeep packed to the nines with all my stuff so I had to rearrange bins and everything just to get the seat to recline a little. Then I kept bumping my shin on the damn steering column and I was too afraid to roll down the windows so it was hot as hell…so yeah, moral of the story…I didn’t get no sleep. Because of that, I made it into town pretty early. Since check in wasn’t until 3, I figured I might as well head out to Murfreesboro and see if I could get the ball rolling with the apartment arrangement.


Everything went great and I signed the lease. I can pick up the keys and move in tomorrow morning. And the place—oh my gosh, it’s gorgeous. It’s in a pretty upscale area and there’s a guard station out front, so security isn’t going to be an issue. It’s furnished–so I didn’t have to rent a u-haul and lug all my stuff out of storage–and everything’s included in the rent(utilities, cable, wifi–EVERYTHING)–which was super cheap–much more than I ever would have expected for the place. I’m subletting so the lease I took over goes until the end of July, but then I have the option of renewing for the full lease…which I’m seriously considering. I mean, the apartment community is absolutely incredible. The landscaping is just beautiful. There’s a pool, tennis and volleyball courts, a fitness/yoga center–there’s even tanning beds for tenants…and everything’s included. No additional fees for use or anything. It’s just…well, it’s not a deal…it’s a freakin’ STEAL. And I’m so, so excited to move in. The girls in the leasing office alone were more than welcoming. They literally had me in stitches laughing with the conversation we were having. It’s great. And the drive from Nashville to Murfreesboro was a lot shorter than I was expecting, so that’s not going to be an issue.


Everything is falling into place finally and I’m so, so relieved and lucky and grateful and happy–and every other adjective that I don’t have time to type¬†down right now because I really¬†need to get ready for tonight’s¬†shoot. But it’s great. Actually, it’s perfect. Life. Is. Perfect!


Here’s to hoping it’ll stay that way…



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