I nailed my scenes for the cold reads in class tonight.
However, I have not nailed my auditions out in the "BIG BAD CASTING WORLD."
No callbacks. No nothing.
I"m 39 years old.
I'm not married. I have no children. My parents divorced 4 years ago after 38 years of marriage.
Family?
Gone.
38 years of Christmas and stockings and tradition?
Gone.
Friends and relationships are hard to come by in your late 30's.
You gotta dredge up all that personal shit in order to "bond" with someone. Half the time, you share with the WRONG PERSON.
"Unsafe people."
"Oh, there's a term for that."
I learned that term in therapy.
"Unsafe people."
Everyone should be suspect.
I'm learning.
I was a virgin until about 5 years ago. And then I said, "screw it. I've waited long enough."
Will I regret posting this blog publicly tomorrow morning?
Probably.
Will I keep it public?
Probably.
We have no privacy anyway, so why even try to fight the system?
So to get to the point here...
I'm driving home late, around 9:15, from an acting class where I actually feel safe-probably because I know we can all be totally honest and demented with one another, in a sick and twisted way, and we laugh it off. So, needless to say, I'm feeling "at home." Because it's consistent.
Consistency.
Not a common term in the age of the "Millennial."
Fuck Millennials.
Anyway, I get in my car. After class. Reality hits. I'm alone. Again. No family. No significant other that I feel "safe" with. No family to go home to. Just me, in my Pontiac Sunfire, with the oil light blinking.
I'm driving.
No radio on.
No noise.
Just the whirl of the A/C on this balmy night in August.
My mind drifts.
It drifts to that place. That place I want to call "home."
When lived in Southern California, I would walk the streets, staring at the houses. Not only were the houses beautiful, they were comforting to look at. Something I longed for. A place where laughter and joy existed. A place I wanted to find solace in.
And this very night, I drove down Lullwater. One of my favorite streets in Atlanta.
The street is short, but full of trees and huge, grassy yards. Tudor homes full of character, and garages and shutters, and well.... families. Well manicured lawns with sunflowers and tulips, and tricycles and swing sets.
And
I
Want
That.
I was never one who was open to full on embracing life and all it's love and joy, because quite frankly, I learned at a very early age that life can be a bitch. You fend for yourself, and figure it out on your own.
But there was something about this night, this very night, August 25th, that I longed to pull into that driveway, watching the motion lights come on... enter through the garage door, and walk into my kitchen, greeted by the golden retriever, slobbering on my summer dress---greeted by my husband who had a glass of Zinafindel for me at the kitchen island, and longingly looked at me with eyes of "I've missed you, the girls are in bed, let's make love all night,' look. And the reality of, "I have a work meeting at 7 a.m., the little one has an ear ache, your mom called and is worried about her boyfriend, and all the shit that comes with life. Yeah, I'm not immune to reality. The fairy tale does NOT exist.
But what I want more than anything on this earth is that sense that I could relax, and that his words MEANT something, they were true, and REAL. That I was in my HOME. A place that felt safe and secure, where the rest of the world could blow up in my smoke, and I NOT CARE.
And I found myself so lost in this imaginary vision tonight, that I almost turned into a driveway of a person's home that I do not know.
And I drove along, knowing that when I got home, to my rental room on Fairview Rd.--- a room of carpet and desk, and monotony--- a home of survival and sacrifice, a place that is where I exist... I languished.
And I looked in the mirror tonight, and I said to my eyes, "what are you waiting for, and why can't you accept that you are worth this dream?"
And I said,
"I don't know.
It has not happened.
But I want it.
And I'm going to have this."
so I shall.
I shall...
I shall...
