On Fiyaaaa

Two weekends in a row I made the long trip down to San Diego to visit my best girl Chelsea. Her roomate and friends were my posse for the weekend and we hit the campus to find about as much fun as possible. Granted, that fun was limited since a large portion of the partying population at USD had been buses across the border to the clubs in Tijuanna. Although a night trip to Mexico sounds tempting, I prefer not to be date raped, thank you.

Ghosts

I've been putting off writing this post because it cuts deep. Just thinking about it makes me flushed. I decided to treat myself to a glass of wine because why the hell not. Since it was a new bottle of red it needed opening and of course it has to have that new kind of synthetic cork because the real organic cork is getting scarce or extinct. Why can't you just keep making babies cork? Maybe if we had more cork I wouldn't have had to struggle with that bottle for ten minutes, nearly dislocating my shoulder in the process. It really reminded me how weak I've become, man I use to be strong, not in a masculin way, just stronger. Jars use to be easy and now I don't eat fresh peanutbutter until someone can help me open it.
My wine opening ordeal had me pissed, but I wanted to put it behind me with a clear mind. I browsed Myspace a bit and found some scene chick's page with a song. It was one of those pages where you can't stop the music and at first I was like 'fuck you emo page' but I got listening to the song, the lyrics were about drinking too much wine. Ironic. I liked the song but since the song was embedded I wasn't able to see the artist or song name and I was like 'fuck you embedded song with good lyrics'. So I left Myspace for my blog before I could get all worked up again.

Johnny had been on my mind recently. Not in any self pitying 'I want my exboyfriend back' kind of way, but just wondering how he was, hoping everything was good. After spending so much time with someone, seeing them every single day, talking to them every hour, its hard to just forget them. My feelings for Johnny; purely platonic, but I was disappointed that he hadn't returned a friendly text I had sent to him.
Chelsea had been pestering me all semester to visit her in San Diego. It was only fair that I drive down and stay with her since she had visited me twice already. So I made the trek south to USD, a campus that reminded me very much of my own; church atop a bluff overlooking the city, a campus just small enough to feel safe. The religious undertones were more predominant here with crosses adorning each archway and portraits of the saints in the dorm hallways. I met up with Chelsea and the familiar college girls who were her new friends. My car treated them to a rare dinner off campus. Over our burritos Chelsea told me she had talked to Max, her ex, earlier and asked if I had heard about Johnny. I didn't know what she was talking about, she told me that he had overdosed. WHAT. WHAT THE FUCK? I didn't know what to say, I sat at the table unable to finish my dinner. I BET HE WAS DRUNK, YEAH, THAT DRUNK ASS GETTING HIMSELF INTO TROUBLE. I remembered him being careless about his health, not taking care of himself, his heart, his liver, drinking too much, fighting too much, dipping, he was careless. Even though I told myself everything was okay, I wanted everything to be okay, I know Johnny, I knew it was worse than I wanted it to be, it always was.
I was nervous as I excused myself from Chelsea's room and into the hallway. I had no idea what to say, what to expect, I paced back and forth before finally pressing send connecting to Johnny's phone. WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? YOU'RE AN IDIOT. ARE YOU OKAY? I planned what to say, but was completely thown when an unfamiliar voice answered.
"It's Li"
"Dee?"
"No, Li"
I heard what he was saying, understood the name but couldn't understand why this person was answering. Surely Johnny wouldn't stand for this person just grabbing his phone and picking it up. I was waiting for the hand-off.
"We're at the hospital with Johnny right now"
"Oh"
"I don't know how much you know but, he overdosed, he's been here since last night, still unresponsive"
"Yeah?"
"They're calling it a suicide attempt. He sent all of his friends text messages before he did it..."
My ear was to the phone but I didn't hear the rest. A wave of disbelief and shock washed over me. WHAT? NO NO NO. My eyes welled and hot, salty tears began streaming down my cheeks. My breaths became short and quick and words refused to manifest. My silent anguish was broken by a sob.
"I know you and Johnny were...close. I'm sorry"
I ended the conversation with a promise for further updates. My face, hands and body burned, my knees folded into a corner and I began to cry. My moan echoed down the empty, carpeted hallway as I shoved open the wooden door of the dorms and stormed down the stairs. I aimlessly paced through the grass bawling at the top of my lungs. Only on a college campus could my scene have been mistaken for a drunken rant. I can't remember the last time I cried so hard. My heart heaved and my head raced with the questions, but the biggest one; why? Was it all really that bad? I wandered across campus and found myself at the ornate doors of the church. I gave one a hard pull but I shouldn't have been surprised to find it locked at this late hour. The only time I really wanted to have a place of reprieve and it won't let me in.
Chelsea phoned me and I maded my way back to the unfamiliar dorms. I breathed in the cold night air and told myself it was all going to be okay.

****
I killed what was left of our handle of Captain and followed the girls out in search of a party. My night was numb and plastering on a smile for people I had just met and would probably never see again just made me the more unpleasant. Chelsea's buddy and I sat on the rooftop deck while the houseparty continued on inside. I wanted to tell him what just happened, but it seemed like I would be explaining something distant, like a foreign movie, it just didn't seem real.
The night melted into my dreams and when I woke in the morning it all seemed pleasant..for that half-moment after you open your eyes everything seems so careless. Then reality hit. OH LAST NIGHT WAS REAL, IT DID REALLY HAPPEN. I had a throbbing headace and my eyes were tired and red from holding back tears from the night before. I lied in bed able to get a good look at Chelsea's dorm room in the light. I had a restless sleep and tried to remember my dream which was extremely vivid. Just after the girls put on some Brad Pitt murder mystery movie I passed out and then FACES, STRANGERS, DO I KNOW YOU, HOSPITAL, SOMEONE CLOSE TO MY CHEEK TALKING, EXPLAINING. The dream was all too real and although I tried to shake the thoughts, they haunted the rest of the weekend.


****
I visited Johnny the following Monday evening. My heart was beating hard as I drove to the Hospital. I had no idea what to expect, would he even be awake, would he turn me away when I got there, these questions rattled in my head as I walked down the steril white halls. I found Johnny talking with his dad in the hall in front of his room. Although a hospital gown didn't suit him very well, he looked good.

Dollar Bills

I found the video for the Corey Kennedy + Cobrasnake yard sale that Ally and I went to waaaay back in August. NylonTV interviewed us but I guess we were just way too intriguing to make the final cut. At least we can say we were there and bought some really cool shit.

Stardust in the Makeup

I shot with photographer Paul Smith and got some killer headshots. Paul's fun attitude and Australian accent made me sentimental for Granty who had left for two weeks in Paris. His studio in downtown LA was exactly the kind of loft I would expect from an artsy type like him; heavy steel doors opened to a spacious work area with alternative backdrops off to the side overlooking the rooftops of neighboring buildings through ceiling-high, dusty windows.

Donut Brain

I just left Ron's class, a time that should be spent as a crew class but that more often turns into a gossip session amongst the theatre students. This afternoon, we all sat down on the couch, chairs and floor in his office and began our conversations. When Ron talks we all listen, we feel like he is this source of information that we are all eager to hear from. "Well what do you wanna do?" he started, "Ask me some questions". "Let me start with friends". Friends, he explained, are the least talked about relationship because no one has a defined formula for a successful friendship. They are two types of friends; The ones who are there in your life who make it easier and more fun. The people you party with, the people who don't get mad when you flake on them. These people are great, but often stagnate potential. why study when you can hang out and drink beers? It was suggested that we seek out people who we want to be like, people who are accomplished, maybe older, and people who are focused on what they want. Stay surrounded by those who encourage you and are genuinely happy for your success. The other 'friends' don't need to be immediately cast-off, but will eventually drift away. This lack of motivation can posion ambition. They fear being left behind, an will if they can not keep up with the hustle. Don't be surprised when they think 'you've changed', when its them who have just stayed the same. Don't be held back.
I have been thinking about Johnny lately, thinking if I did the right thing breaking up with him in August. Wondering if it all would be different right now.
Ron's talk with us was the first time I felt correct in my decision with Johnny. I knew what I needed, a bestfriend who would support me and be excited and eager for what I was doing, and I no longer had that from Johnny. But since then I have torn myself apart for being the bitch, for breaking his heart, for breaking mine, for ruining the bliss we had created for ourselves and for destroying our plans for a picture-perfect college romance. But the truth was I wanted more from every other part of my life, I looked around and was scared with the routine I found myself in, especially because I was not doing what I wanted to do to its fullest potential because I had allowed myself to become taken over by passiveness.
Ron told us to make a mental image of a pie graph of our time spent in a week. "How many hours do you spend studying a script or working on your craft? Fifteen percent or your time? How about time you spend partying, and I mean staying out till four in the morning because I know you do. Sixty-five percent of the time? Whatever you spend a majority of your time doing is what defines you". Ron's words resounded in me and couldn't have come at a more perfect time. I thought about my time with Johnny. I wasn't doing what I wanted to, and needed a radical change to overhaul my life. When we broke up I felt like shit, but I know that it was saving me, my identity.
I thought about my friends while sitting on the floor with the other students. I guess I would call them my friends but most of the people I was thinking about I wouldn't call if I needed a shoulder to cry on or if I were in trouble, and is that not what a real friend is for? In high school, we had all been friends since diapers, but now that distance had scattered us, I found who my true friends were. Rather, I knew which friends were close to my heart and I found out who held me close to theirs (which happens to be ninety percent of the friends I thought it would be). With new friends, its so hard to determine at the beginning who your good friends will be. Everyone wants to rush into friendships, to find their anchor for fear of being alone. So what do you do to with these new friends? Naturally, like any social being, you go out and have fun, go to a party, go for drinks. But then how can we determine who will be the positive influences in our lives and who are the ones who just want a party buddy? While listening to Ron I decided what makes a solid companion; someone who is comfortable on their own as an individual, who does not need validation and who can succeed on their own without the help of others. Granted, this person may be difficult to find, and no one is perfect; sure we all need validation sometimes and need the support of other to accomplish what we want to get done, but overall, a person needs to be a strong pilar on their own before they can make a supportive friend.
In turn, you must be a strong, motivated individual to be a decent friend in return. Why look for fullfillment from someone else when only you can fill that void in yourself. Ron said that many college freshmen lose their identity in that first year because they get very little alone time. They are constantly surrounded by people and distractions in the dorms, and for the rare solitude that is found, it is often breif and still filled with a heightened sense of self awareness.


...so many ideas still on this, i will finish it later

School Boy's Dream

The actual night of Halloween was spent in West Hollywood. The ballerinas and I, the mermaid, joined the gays in celebrating on a closed off section of Santa Monica Blvd. A four-some won the costume contests as the Golden Girls, and we saw plenty of rear-hugging spandex. The girls were so disapointed that everyone kept hollering at us three 'princesses', the crowns must have thown them off. We socialized with a group of guys, one of which was a middle school teacher who shared, "Shit, I have parent-teacher conferences tomorrow morning, I just want to tell them all their kids a little fucker".