Movin' On Up

I was contacted by an MFA producer yesterday. He noticed my extra work in previous MFA and BFA films and told me his director wants to use me as a featured extra in a Master's Thesis film! Master's. Thesis. Film. I'm getting somewhere slowly and surely. People are noticing my work and my reliability and I'm getting bigger roles.
The best part is that they're willing to work around my schedule!

Annoying Whiny Baby Entry

I feel like I'm drowning in mediocrity this semester. I have yet to get an A on any exams I've taken, but tons of B's. I'm near broke. I'm getting job interviews, but have not landed a job. I have school, a paid gig touring in a play, a lead role in a film, and a job waiting for me this summer, yet I feel like I'm not doing enough with my life. That A I thought I got on my Accounting exam last night? It was a 79%! I have to take the GRE this summer. I'm a horrible test taker when it comes to math. Prep classes for the GRE exam come down to $1200, or else I'd be in class several days a week! I have to start thinking of grad schools and audition pieces for them. What if I don't get into any? Then what am I going to do? And what's worse is that because I haven't found a job up in Tallahassee, I have to return home this summer. I don't want to come home. I feel completely useless when I'm home. Everyone in my family is going to remind me that I'm not doing enough because I'm off from school and only working. I'm also never going to hear the end of changing my major. This is only going to exacerbate my problems. Please God let me get a job now!

Becoming a professional hobo sounds better than coming home this summer.

Things Happen For a Reason

  It's really funny how things work out. I have this fortunate way of being in the right place at the right time, right before or after that place becomes or was the wrong place to be.

  Last night at around 11:07 pm, there was an armed robbery on campus by The Leach Center. This is really no surprise being as Tallahassee is notorious for robberies after hours, and there's at least one on FSU's campus every other week. I was exhausted and had just gotten out of rehearsal maybe seven minutes prior (I was at the Fireplace, mind you, which is on the other end off-campus a few streets, not really coincidental), thankful that the huge typhoon that poured down around 9:30 was over. I got into my car and upon discovering that I didn't have my phone, started shuffling through the mess on my floor in a panic. I have an issue with misplacing my things sometimes, with my phone being the most recent thing I leave behind. It's a problem, I know. Anyway, I forget my phone and this causes a delay in time it takes for me to get back to my dorm, which is probably less than 1/4 mile from the Leach Center. But here's another kicker: I can't find parking in both lots outside my hall, so I have to drive to the Woodward Garage, which is a little bit of a walk, and also not too far from the Leach Center.

  I finally get a parking spot on the 2nd floor, I walk back to my hall as fast as I can with my giant visible purse and no phone to call 911 with in case of an emergency, intent on checking my apartment for it (I left it on my desk). It was probably about 11:15 when I got in. About 8 minutes after said robbery occurred. Whoa.

  It was quite inconvenient to get delayed in getting home from the Fireplace because I thought I lost my phone and then couldn't find parking. But as luck would have it, this delay saved me from a dangerous situation. It's like God was thinking "Ok, so there's gonna be a robbery around 11:07 tonight. Knowing you, you're gonna forget your phone because you're tired today and a little forgetful. Then because of the thunderstorm, there won't be any parking by your hall because everyone will decide to either stay in or come home early. This will give you time to get to the Woodward garage while the robbers flee off of campus. Don't worry, though. There will be a close spot on the 2nd floor for you. Keep your pepper spray in your hand if it makes you feel better. Your phone will be on your desk where you left it. Now try not to forget it next time, ok?"

Wow, everything really does happen for a reason.

Newly-Liberated Self

I think I'm well on my way out of being a people pleaser.

  I've noticed that I've become more assertive and brutally honest with people. I'm attributing this to being on my own and taking my own needs into consideration, something I never used to do until I was way beyond meltdown point. I also don't tolerate bullcrap from people as much, and I have a much easier time communicating when someone's being a jerk. So, don't give me problems unless you'd like to hear it from my mouth in raw form.
  The truth of the matter is that I simply don't care anymore. I mean, I care, but no longer to the extent of fragility over what people will think of me. Don't get me wrong, I still have plenty of consideration for how people might feel when you tell them something they might not want to hear. Believe me, I've been at the tail end of brutal honesty more times in my life than I can remember and I  know how badly it sucks. I'm just not going to tell people what they want to hear anymore. If you ask my honest opinion on something, I'm going to tell you. I'm going to tell you what's wrong, how it can be bettered, and then I'm going to move on.
  There comes a certain point in your life where you start to evaluate people and situations into two categories: worth the heartache and not worth the heartache. Most things simply aren't worth the heartache to me anymore. Now, I'm not saying people don't still piss me off like they used to. Believe me, if I had a nickel for every time I wanted to punch someone in the face for being stupid, especially recently, I'd probably own the bank. But letting these things weigh on my mind isn't worth the heartache. I'm learning the art of letting go.
  Patrick thinks this new me could be dangerous, but I kind of like this new girl more than the old girl. The old girl, upon criticism or insult, would get overly defensive or call up every one of her friends and complain and whine about the situation while never directly saying a word to her critic. She would let something little like that pain her for days, weeks even. I've learned to say what's on my mind, then let the situation go. It's great.

I feel liberated.

The Ever-So-Lexi Disappearing Act

A few ponderings of my mind that I feel the need to get out before I get to the heart of this blog:

1. I'm not at all the party animal I'd like to be sometimes. I can go out and have a good time, but once it gets too crowded and too late, I get overstimulated and everything stops being fun and just gets tedious and exhausting. I start to get quiet and people always think there's something wrong with me suddenly. But the truth of the matter is that I'm just plain spent and need to go to sleep.

2. Is it bad that, in spite of everyone talking about the beach and getting tan for the summer, I really don't care about getting tan? 'Cause I don't. I'm Irish, Scottish, Italian, German, Welsh, Portuguese, and Cherokee. Notice how 2/3 of my heritage comes from light-skinned European descent. I'm a fair-skinned, mostly caucasian girl who's come to terms with the fact that I'm not genetically made to be tan. In fact, I sizzle up like a slice of bacon in the sun. So, stop telling me I need to go out in the sun and raise my chances of getting skin cancer so I can conform to your ridiculous American standard of beauty. And no I do not want to spend money on a spray tan, either.

3. I'm relapsing into old patterns of behavior that are not at all endearing. It's back to the point where I'm obsessing over the same demons and insecurities ad nauseam. And drinking alcohol makes it worse.

  With number three having been said, I am relapsing into nothing more than a royal pain, and therefore I feel the need to hide away for a while. It's a damage control thing. I need time to cool off and regroup before I say something dangerous and ruin my entire life as I know it for the near-future. It's also so I can rethink my attitude a little bit, refocus myself and get back on track and back in control. Lord knows a less than stellar attitude saps productivity and general well-being, and I'm the last person who needs that with the 8,000 tasks I'm taking on or trying to take on.
  But mostly, I'm a perfectionist. I hide away in an attempt to control who sees my flaws. Honestly, I'm such a pain the ass when I get like this that it's really just better to spare people the grueling task of putting up with me altogether. After all, I am supposed to be perfect. I mean, God forbid anyone see that I'm a human being! How absurd!
  All kidding aside, it's a problem folks (or folk, because nobody reads this)! A problem that I'm still trying to get a handle on after realizing it's a problem a few years ago. I think it has to do with being an only child who was constantly the center of attention. I feel like everyone's watching me, but past the constant parental supervision age nobody really gives a rat's fanny that I'm borderline psychotic some days. Which is a relief, if you think about. However, old habits die hard as they say. Having gotten this off my chest, I'm gonna go disappear for a while.

Oh, and you never read this post by the way. If word gets out that I'm not really perfect, people might judge.

Something Mom Should Know

 Please refrain from calling me snookie (notice the difference in spelling from "Snooki"). It may have been cute five or six years ago in the Pre-Guido/Guidette days, but now it's just insulting. I am not a short, orange, alcohol-saturated, cussing Oompa Loompa with an obnoxious pompadour. The only thing I have in common to specific aforesaid Oompa Loompa is my extensive sailor vocabulary. That's it. Now, please find a better nickname for me. Please and thank you.

Segue, apparently the rumors have been confirmed. It is true that Snooki is pregnant. Time for jokes.

The fetus was seen in the ultrasound fist pumping.

Snooki's water isn't going to break, her vodka is going to break.

The kid's gonna come out orange and drunk.

Snooki gets pregnant and the Vatican suddenly changes its views on birth control.

Ok, I'm done.

But really, Snooki's pregnant. God help us all...

Disinspiration... If That's Even a Word...

 It's been months since I've actually given myself a chance to sit down and write a piece about anything. Scratch that. It's been a while since I've given myself a chance to sit down and finish a piece about anything. I've started several pieces that I, looking back at them in my draft folder, no longer remember where they were going when I started them. I was working on a really good one about my struggle with anxiety that was so overwhelmingly long-winded that I left it to take a break, got a bit lackadaisical, and haven't revisited it until now. You'd think that with my story being my story, I would be able to remember where I was going with it. Creativity and lackadaisy don't go well together.
 That's always been a problem with me. I feel so accomplished having finished something halfway that I never feel the urge to push myself to finish it, and I lose my inspiration. I have so many ideas that never become anything because I can't just sit down and focus on them. Imagine my ingenuity if I did! I've had countless ideas for songs, short stories, videos, webcam karaoke (coming soon... hopefully), you name it! Maybe I just have a problem picking something, brainstorming it and sticking to it until it is finished. Although I do enough of that in school.
 Actually, it's just now hitting me why I can't finish things on my own time. I get distracted. Case in point right now: I have multiple tabs on my browser that I keep clicking on periodically to see what's up on Facebook, I have music playing, and I keep taking random dance breaks and pulling up my webcam to make faces at myself. No joke. The sentence before this was preceded to one of said dance breaks. Even this piece isn't getting written because I'm getting distracted. I'm too distracted to write about being distracted. Yep.
 But cut me a break here! I've been in rehearsals every night, doing films and commercials, and studying, studying, studying for the last how many weeks? I've had an exam every week for the last month. I even deleted my Facebook so I could be more productive, but reactivated it because I was sick of being an isolated hermit.
 I think I'm this way because I don't have to do anything right now. I'm on spring break. The one time I don't have to do anything is the one time I don't have any focus. In all honesty, it's glorious to be distractable and get away with it. I'm not being graded or having to meet deadlines, and I'm not getting anything done for anyone else, either. I'm taking the time this week to do anything I want, which is to just be. It's beautiful.
I feel my disinspiration is justified this week.

But really, I do wish I had the inspiration to write a song right now.