Just Writing Thoughts

I'm rarely at a loss for words.  My roommate lost a loved one a few days ago and I don't know what to say.  It's one of those situations where words just aren't enough.  I've never experienced a loss on this level, so I have no experience to draw from to try and find the right words.  I'm out of town, so just being there isn't possible.  It's hard for me to even call because I don't know what to do.  I feel lost and unhelpful.  And it sucks.

But They Feel Gravity

I'm coming up on my two year mark in California.  Man, is that ever weird to say.  It's been a crazy journey.  I think coming out of film school, we expect to be instantly recognized for our genius and handed millions of dollars to make our brilliant minds blossom onto the big screen.  Ha! PA jobs aren't even easy to come by.  I jokingly say, "You've got to give head to get ahead."  Sadly, it's not far off.  Filmmaking.  What a trip.  You learn very early on that all the Hollywood glamour has very little to do with the actual production of a film.  And if that shit was important to me, I would be in a very different career path.  Filmmaking is tedious to say the least.  I always laugh when my friends come onto set for the first time and then leave after an hour.  I can see how they think it's boring.  It's certainly a slow process.  And it is a lot of hard work.  So much sweat and man power goes into making a film.  There's a lot of hurry up and waiting going on.  It takes a very patient person to be in this industry.  But I love it.  I have from the beginning and I can't see myself doing anything else.  That's why I'm still here.  I'm still trying to pave my own path.  Good thing I come from a family with really strong work ethic.  It keeps me going.  It's hard sometimes not to freak out or give up.  There is a lot of pressure out there to be in certain places at certain ages.  And I've never been one to really give a shit about rules or conventions, but that doesn't mean I don't feel the pressure.  But I've got to harness Frank Sinatra and Sid Vicious and do it my way, right?

Navigating New Territory

I joined a gym.  This isn't the first time, but it's the first time I've seriously used my membership.  Gyms are intimidating as hell.  Especially to chubby girls, like me.  The machines, the beautiful people, the mirrors (they're everywhere), it's a lot to take in.  I've always started out with good intentions, but I always end up feeling ridiculous or too silly to ask for help.  But I guess I've finally gotten to the point that getting in shape is more important to me than caring if I look a little ridiculous.  The good news is, after two months, I have some insight into gym culture.  I will let you all in on what I've figured out so far.

So we all know the stereotype of the Meat Head.  The ripped, protein-shake chugging, beef cakes that look pretty hot until they open their mouths.  They're there, but I don't find them nearly as interesting as the girls that go to the gym to meat these assholes.  I never really believed that girls (in full make-up and hair all gussied up) went to the gym and just half-assed it so they could meet guys until I witnessed it first hand.  These girls look amazing.  I will give them that.  But it's not because they work out.  They come in packs.  And they usually stick to the stationary bikes so they can sort of pedal a bit, but they are there to watch the Meatheads.  I guess it's the gym version of a Snow Bunny.  I don't know, and it baffles me.  They don't come everyday.  Mostly on the weekends and you can't miss them because they're giggly as hell.

Next, we have the weekday morning aerobics classes.  Cue the housewives.  This crowd is pretty obvious. They only come during the week and to classes that happen while the kids are at school.  A pretty fit group.  A little gossipy, but it makes me laugh.  These classes are my favorite, because they are the least crowded and let's face it,  Moms are nice and I don't feel like they're sizing me up. Haha.

Oooooh! And let's not forget the Cougars.  These huntresses have to stay in shape.  Young, virile men aren't looking to get Couged by an older lady that isn't sexy as hell.  And these women know it.  I've been in the middle of some serious Cougar chats at the gym and you dudes don't know what the hell you're getting yourself into.  These women are professionals.  They are going to eat you alive.  And I'm gonna sit back and watch the show.  I think it's fascinating.  Maybe I should be shooting a documentary on this shit.  I do know these women can run circles around me.  While I'm sweating gallons, deep breathing, and turning bright red like a freakin' cherry tomato, these babes are slightly glistening and preparing for the prowl.  It's good to have something to look forward to if I get my ass in gear...

Then there's my peeps.  People that actually need to be at the gym and they waited a bit too long before realizing it.  We're easy to spot.  Bright red, dripping with sweat, gritting our teeth.  I want to high five all of them.  It takes a lot of guts to get started and I'm proud of us.  Haha.

Okay so maybe I really only talked about the different groups of women at the gym.  Truth is I try not to check out guys at the gym.  I'm already intimidated as hell being there.  And the last thing I want to to do is draw any attention to my super sweat drenched self.  It's not cool at all and I really am not at the gym to meet dudes.  I think I would start to lose my nerve if I thought I had to make eye contact or even talk to the men at the gym.  Maybe once I get over this phobia, I can break them down more for you.  The only guy I can really talk about is the one in my Zumba class and his girlfriend makes him go. So there are two things I can write: I feel sorry for him (especially since he is the only male and the instructor makes him come up on stage every time) and that he is a way better dancer than I am (which is kind of sad).

I think I've ranted enough about the gym.  Feel free to ask questions!  I am a fountain of info. Haha.

Especially When Melting

In the middle of making some major changes in my lifestyle, I find it funny to look at the things I am having trouble letting go of.  I don't know how to untangle myself from these images, ideas, habits, and labels.  I worry about losing some part of myself.  I don't want to be less me, yet I want to be more than I am.  Evolve as a person.  We become comfortable or at least complacent in the terms used to define us.  The funny one.  The drunk girl.  The loud one.  The fat chick.  The loud-drunk-funny-fat girl.

Somewhere in this mess is the person I want to be.

Punches in the Gut

Man, I am cranky today. I didn't wake up that way.  I've just been dealing with A-holes all day and it's starting to rub off.  That and I am having major cramps.  I'd like to say that the bitchiness associated with the female mensus is false, but it's not.  I'm a raving bitch today and it's no small coincidence that my period is involved.  I'm trying to make myself write something nice.  It's not going so well.  I think I've deleted about three paragraphs already.  There is a really pretty orchid blooming accross from my desk right now. Does that count? 

Let's think about something awesome:


Ice cold beer.  Now I'm feeling a little better.  This positive thinking shit really works.  Just looking at that picture made me feel pretty happy.  Now we can talk about something that makes me laugh.  Me at the gym.  It's pretty comical.  I tried a Zumba class.  It was ridiculous!  The room was packed and all of the women looked pretty sexy working out.  I on the other hand was a lost, chubby girl.  You want me to do what with my pelvis?!?  Not to mention the profuse sweating and the bright red face.  And lucky me, there are about a gazillion mirrors in the room.  So if there was a moment where I thought, "Hey, I think I'm getting this."  All I had to do was look up and realize, "Oh, no kit kat, you don't!".  Haha.  Someday.  I think it's important to be able to laugh at yourself, right? 

Much Like Mothers

Now that I'm well into my adulthood (by age at least), I am able to have a different relationship with my Mother.  It's pretty rad and often times hilarious.  My Mom was a pretty strict parent.  She was a parent instead of trying to be a friend when I needed her to be and I think that is the foundation for our ever growing friendship as I inch my way toward my AARP card.

I can pretty much talk with my Mom about anything and since my brother and I have a sense of humor that has been politely described as inappropriate, my Mom has been exposed to some shit.  Most of the time, she laughs it off.  There is one subject, that my Mom will not discuss and she will leave or get pissed until we change it.  S-E-X.  That's right, sex.  My Mom will not talk about it, nor will she say the word.  She spells it.  And I'm okay with that.  She is, after all, still my Mother.

This does lead to moments where I know she's going to get mad.  One time my brother and I somehow were making fun of something and an Alaskan Pipeline came up (think messed up sex acts. IE: Rusty Trombone, Dirty Sanchez, etc.  Use Google if you really need to know the details).  And my Mom overheard us and asked what it was.  My brother instantly clammed up (pussy) and I told her she didn't want to know.  Well she wouldn't let it go and so, like ripping off a band-aid, I blurted it out.  Her jaw hit the floor and she gave me a disgusted snarl.  She said, "I don't like that!"  Which, of course, sent my brother and I into hysterical fits of laughter.  I finally managed to add, "That's a good thing, Mom.  Because if you did, you'd be a pervert."  She quickly stomped inside, leaving my brother and I to our laughter fit.

All in all, my Mom is a pretty good sport.  And I don't know anyone who has as much good karma built up in the Karma Banks as her.  So, Cheers! to awesome Moms!

Like John Connor

I've been 30 for almost a month now.  And I find myself surprised (pleasantly) at how much I am loving it. It's a huge weight off of my shoulders to just let go of all the craziness and garbage I put myself through in my 20's and start fresh.  The me I'd wished I was at 19.  I thought I knew everything at that age and fuck if I'd listen to anyone who told me otherwise (sorry, Mom! I was an obnoxious ass).  So I thought I would write a letter (more of a list) of sagely advice to my 19 year old self (kind of like Terminator, but without the pressure of world annihilation or animosity towards robots.  I love robots).  Here we go:

Brandy,

It's okay to say "I don't know" if you don't know.

Love yourself, first and foremost because A) You're rad and B) if you don't love yourself how the hell is anyone else supposed to?  You will feel empty and spend time, energy, and money trying to fill a void that can only be filled by the ability to look at yourself in the mirror and say, "I love you" and mean it.

Be nice to people.  Treat them with respect and kindness.  Please and Thank You go a long, long way.

Laugh.  Hard and often and from the belly.  And don't give a shit if it annoys or disturbs anyone.  Deep down, they're just wishing they were laughing, too.

Sorry to say it, girl, but you're not going to find happiness in random hook-ups from the bar.  And no matter how progressive or empowered you try to make yourself feel about them, they really just make you feel bad about yourself.  Admit it and move on.  Not only do you deserve more, but you want more, too.

Don't say you'll "never" do something.  The universe loves to make us eat our words.

Bottom line, Bitches are Crazy!  This includes you.  Guys can push women to unspeakable lows.  Never underestimate your ability to cross lines, babble, or just plain scare away the opposite sex.  The sooner you recognize that you, too, can easily travel down "nut-job" lane, the easier it will be for you to not.

Your ability to give whole-heartedly to those you love is an amazing quality, but don't forget it's okay to receive, too.  And don't stand for being taken advantage of.

Listen to your Mom.  She's a smart lady.

Find your own way.  The beautiful thing about living in the modern world is you can make your own rules.  There are a million ways to live.  Don't do it by anyone else's guidelines or conventions.  Do what works for you.  Do what makes you happy and fuck the rest.

Love, love, love,
B-Ran

Shit.  If my 19 year old self reads this it will probably cause a break in the space-time continuum.  Damn.  Maybe I do need a robot and there is always the pressure of world annihilation.  This is all good research for my 40 year old self to pass on.  Thank God I have 10 more years to figure it all out.  In the meantime, I'm Brandy, I'm 30 and I'm trying like hell to play it cool...

Midnight Story

I'd been fascinated with the wild colors of their camp for as long as I can remember.  Bright, full of life, and in such contrast to my village.  It was hard to look away.  They came through every year and I secretly looked forward to it.  The people of my town never made eye contact.  "Wild" my mother would say, shaking her head and making the sign of the cross.

I'd tried to sneak out once as a boy to go watch them but my mother caught me and gave me a nasty beating.  She never looked at me the same after that. It was like she knew.  I think she thought the devil himself had crawled inside me.  And maybe she was right.

It was years later that my fate was sealed.  Some friends and I were leaving the tavern when we noticed the flicker of their fire in the distance.  We never spoke, we all just started walking towards their camp.  Moths to the flame.  The women were beautiful, barely clothed and they danced with seductive grace.  I was paralyzed by the movement and my heart kept time with the beat.  One by one, my friends moved closer.  I stayed where I was until I saw her.  Dark Goddess.  Her eyes sparkled a brilliant blue and I couldn't look away.  I walked slowly until I reached her.  My skin burned as she pressed against me.  Her body was a perfect combination of soft curves and hard muscle and she smelled like smoke and spice and rain.  Her gaze was piercing, like a dagger through my heart.  Two stars twinkling in the night sky.

When I heard the first scream, I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't stop dancing and caressing the woman in my arms.  The screams were like a distant dream and I must have been aware of my friends falling one by one to the ground, but I did nothing.  Then as if being slapped awake, I found myself surrounded by the other women, their faces dripping with the hot, red blood of my friends.  I looked, pleading to my blue eyed angel and I was once again paralyzed.   Pleasure and pain coursed through my body as she bit me, bringing me to my knees.  I watched as she drained my blood, her eyes turned dark and I knew this was my last moment.

Funny how I wish now that it was.  I woke, nauseous, in a wagon moving west.  There were at least a dozen men and we were all in cages.  We were all the creatures' firsts.  Their life blood.  A bond is formed the first time they drink and they need us to survive.  She has to feed from me, less often as time passes on.  We grow no older, time stacks on time.  Only the firsts can father their children.  We see the girls from time to time.  Blue-eyed beauties.  I don't know what happens to the boys.

I escaped once, but didn't make it far.  I became so violently ill, I couldn't move after a distance.  She found me easily. She cursed at me and brought me back.  It was the only time I've ever seen a flash of emotion cross her dark face.  Pity.  Maybe I'm not the only one who's trapped...

Points On A Map

The girl sat with the map unfolded in front of her.  Her journey leading to her current point marked carefully in red.  The marks were not straight lines, but a combination of zigs crossing zags and loop de loops.  The progress she had made was great and she took small comfort in the ground she had covered.  But she still had a ways to go and her next move was uncertain.  Her sense of direction was unreliable at best and all ways held promise.  The fact that she had stopped and pulled out the map at all was interesting as it always caused her memories from the past to bubble up.  Literally.  The map was funny that way.  And as they floated and danced in front of her, all she had to do was reach out and pop one to send herself catapulting back in time.  As you can imagine that caused a slight delay in her journey.  The bubbles were so very hard to resist.  Some were bright and shiny, some dark and gloomy, some colorful, some iridescent.  And almost on cue, she raised her hand, finger extended, to a large, oddly shaped bubble and POP!

Int. Dining Room - Night

A family sits at the table eating dinner,  MOTHER, FATHER, DAUGHTER, SON. An awkward blanket of silence fills the room.  The family eats.  PPPPFFFFFFFFFFTTT!!!  Father farts.  Mother pauses, glaring at father then continues eating.  Daughter and Son stifle smiles.  They continue eating.  PPPPFFFFFFTTT!!!  Father farts again.  Mother slams down her silverware.

                                                    MOTHER
                                       Enough!!! There is Gas-X
                                       in the bathroom if you need it.

Daughter and Son exchange glances, trying not to laugh.

                                                    FATHER
                                       It doesn't bother me.  I like to fart.
                                       Why? Do you have a problem?

The children loose it and laugh as Mother stomps out of the dining room.  The sound of dishes crashing in the other room is heard.

End Bubble

The girl laughed until she cried.  She slowly folded up the map as the bubbles started to float higher and higher out of her reach.  She smiled to herself as she put the map back in her coat pocket.  She held out her arm and spun in a circle until she lost her balance and fell.  Her eyes open.  She points to the North.  Or was it the West?

Even As They Fall

I love apples.  Crisp, sweet, delicious.  Ambrosia, Golden Delicious,  Honey Crisp, Maiden's Blush.  It's no wonder Eve took a bite.  And I don't blame Snow White one bit, either.  I mean let's get real.  The Garden of Eden was probably Bo-Ring!  I like camping as much as the next girl, but naming animals and hanging out with Adam day in and day out???  All while being taunted with shiny, bright "forbidden" fruit?  She lasted a lot longer that I would  have.  And sure Snow White had to spend a little time in a coma, but the outcome was well worth it.  Can you imagine picking up after 7 dudes with short man complexes???  That hag did her a favor.  So it looks like that old saying, "An apple a day keeps a girl from ending up barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen" (or something to that effect) is true.  Any way you slice it,  apples are pretty awesome.

But Their Intentions Are Clear

A few months ago, I made the decision to cut red meat out of my life.  And I had never really got an inside peek at what vegetarians really go through.  And how in the hell do Vegans eat out at all?!?  I ordered corn chowder the other day and didn't even think twice about it.  Corn equals vegetable which equals no worries, right?  Wrong.  I forgot that everything is better with bacon!  Shit. 

And of course, my smart-girl self had to cut out red meat right before coming home for the holidays.  Have you met my family???  Can we say Car-ni-vores?  It's basically like a cow living with a trio of T-rexes.  The minute I said I no longer ate red meat, I could see my family sizing me up.  Like I was getting weak and they could take me down and devour me if need be (which, I might add, has made me pretty nervous here in Elko.  The temperature has been pretty cold at night.  If there was a freeze in, I wouldn't last the week).  My Dad cooked some Elk meat the other night and wanted me to at least "try a bite."  I said, "Sorry, Dad. I don't eat red meat."  And he said, "Elk is really lean."  You're right Dad, it is.  But it's also really red.  And let's not get started on my brother.  He has always thought he had an evolutionary advantage over me and I basically just confirmed it in his book.  He said to me, "You're not going to turn into one of those vegetarian pussies, are you?"  Oh.  Not in this crowd, cupcake, not in this crowd.