Getting Learnt

It feels weird to say it, but I am officially a college Sophomore!   I WILL NEVER BE A FRESHMAN AGAIN!  Thursday, I finished my last finals (with a fever, good times), and started making the 18 hour trek home.

The past 9 months have been a wonderful blur.  My time at Chapman has changed me forever, and I know that I’ve grown up a lot in my time in Orange.  I feel more independent, confident, and worldly.

In these 9 months, I’ve lived through LA traffic, seen 4 concerts, eaten 12+ pounds of ice cream, been on sets, written multiple screenplays, and gone to the beach in November. It’s been an exciting year for me!

There are a lot of lessons learned in your first year of college.  Some make you stronger, others make you want to curl up in a ball and sing songs from High School Musical until you calm down.

I learned that being a good student in high school, doesn’t make you a good student in College. What used to take 3 hours of studying the night before, now takes 4 hours a day for a week, and even then, a professor may not give you an A.

I learned that flying is expensive, and 18 hours of driving isn’t worth it for a weekend home.  No matter how far away you go, the first year will make you crave going home.  We want that same comfort we remember. The same tight group of friends and a grocery store where you know every isle like the back of your hand.  You will miss seeing the same people, sights, and roads everyday.  Suddenly, you find yourself having to figure out how to make home, away from home.

I learned that it’s easier to make friends than keep them.  Forming strong friendships requires effort and commitment on both sides.  Just like a relationship, a friendships can’t be one sided.  I found at the beginning of the semester that simply saying hi to people didn’t mean they were going to text me the next day to hang out.  It’s a matter of getting out of your comfort zone, and actually trying with new people.  Making new friends, doesn’t mean leaving the old ones, even if it feels like it.  Finally, I learned that people cannot be who you want them to be.  At the end of the day, some people make the choice to stay, and others leave, that’s how it is.  But the people who stay… The ones that Skype you out of the blue, text you good morning, and bike across their campus to see you, they are worth the effort.

I learned that it’s normal to feel lonely, and it’s okay to cry sometimes.  I learned that everyone needs a safe place to be alone, and figure stuff out in peace.  I found out that bathrooms are a great place to cry, and walks are good for clearing your head.   I also found out that screaming “Love the Way You Lie” releases tension and if you image your problems in front of you, it makes the treadmill go a lot easier.

I learned that it’s the AD’s job to yell at everyone, and the Directors job is to yell at them self.  During the year, I found out that being a writer means lots of hours of staring at your computer and then typing until your fingers cramp when the idea hits.  I learned that if you think your first draft is pretty good, it’s still not good enough.  If you are going to write well, you need to write and write and write. You need to pound your head against tables, drink some Vodka, and remember every person you ever cared about, and then maybe you will write something worth reading.

I feel as though I always write about home in my blog posts.  I guess it’s become a kind of obsession of mine.  In my 9 months away, I searched high and low for what would become my second home.  I looked for it in my tiny dorm room and in small staircases.  I tried to find it in people and the movies I was shown.  I didn’t find it any of those places.  I found home when I stopped trying so damn hard.  I found it in easy laughter, In and Out Burger runs at midnight, parking garage roofs, and busy sets.  Home isn’t always a happy place.  It’s a place where you are allowed to feel, breathe, love and grow.  Finding home is finding a person you can cry in front of, a pillow that you can hold tight, a floor you can dance on, and a song that’s just right.  Home is no one person or thing, it’s you, 100% you.


An Agnostic Prays to God

Dear God,

Who, what, when, how, and why are you?

Are you there?  Are you something more than a wonderful idea designed to give us comfort?  Are you malleable, can I change your shape like putty?  Are you a man, woman, German Shepherd, or a Transgender  not welcome in public restrooms?

I don’t know what to think of you.  I don’t know whether to say a prayer or ask another question.  I don’t know whether to analyse or believe.

Can I ask you a serious question?  Did you like Beyonce better with Destiny’s Child or solo? Sorry, just trying to diffuse the tension…

I don’t get you.  Maybe it’s because I haven’t read the bible and didn’t go back to church after the age of 5.  Maybe it’s because I’m a cynic at heart.  Maybe it’s because I have a hard time believing anything without proof.  Maybe it’s because of the shit that goes on in the world.  Maybe it’s because-

If you were at a Freshman Orientation, how would you introduce yourself?    Would you say: “I am man”.  Would you say: “I’m here to save you”, or maybe “Y’all really need to stop shooting black people, like come on”?  Or would you say nothing at all?

Give me something to work with!  Are you a stranger on the bus, one of us?  Are you the universe, and the way the planets move?  Are you there, it’s me?

God, I want to explain myself to you.  I have a hard time looking up to you, because you don’t have the best track record.  You are our protector, but I don’t always feel that protected.  Everyday more innocent people die.  People are shot because of their race, clinics are burned because of a questioned life, homosexuals are kicked out of families, and women are raped and told to wear slacks next time.  Explain that to me, please.  Because if this is your plan, I don’t understand it.  I don’t understand how pain, death, and division is your plan.  And don’t give me that Adam and Eve crap, it’s not Eve’s fault, and never was.  If I had control of the Universe, then everyone would be happy, loved, and respected.  The only war would be CupCake wars and there would not be any walls.  If you are in control, why not create a utopia for your creations?

But, if you are there, I also have to say thank you.  Because there is still beauty in this world.  So, thank you.  Thank you for keeping traffic lights green for me when I’m in a hurry, for not letting me get hit that one time I was driving, for creating the beings who created music and Tv, and for letting their be perfect matches.

Dear God, I know this probably isn’t the kind of prayer you usually receive.  Someday, I hope to understand you.  I hope to be able to change my religion from confused to sure, one way or another.  Until then, I will look up, in search of an answer for what is true and false.  I will look inside myself for answers, and I will find my belief along the way.

Thank you for listening.



Look out behind you, there are a bunch of descriptive words following you trying to make you feel bad about yourself!!!

Our society really likes adjectives, especially ones that relate to appearances.  We’ve become obsessed with our looks, and judge our self-worth through these terms.

“Beautiful” “Sexy” “Skinny”, the words plague us on every magazine cover and cafeteria conversation.  You can’t escape, and it’s enough to make anyone fall out of love with them self.

We want to look a certain way.  We want to fit in.  We want to be beautiful, and we want others to think so too.  It’s a fact of life.  But, it creates insecurities, disorders, and hate.  It’s disgusting.

I’ll be the first to admit it; I don’t like everything about my appearance.  Honestly, I think my face is babyish and weird, and find myself embarrassed by my flat, white girl ass. But, I’m not going to hide my insecurities, because everyone has them.  I believe if we face them together, we will be able to battle them better.

Despite my own insecurities, I really don’t give a fuck.

I face them head on.  Yes, I don’t love my face, but I will not let myself be driven crazy thinking about it.  Don’t let yourself either.  Face your insecurities and make them make you stronger.

I 100% believe in self love, and I believe that you have to accept yourself before you can accept anyone else.  So here’s a word of advice.  No one is perfect, so don’t think you have to be.  Don’t compare yourself to others because they aren’t you.  You are one of a friggen kind.  You are a vintage jacket that is going to sell for a lot of money.  You don’t need to try and be a carbon copy of the people of magazine covers, just be you, be authentic.

Beauty is just an adjective.  It’s not the mountain you must climb to succeed in life or the end game goal.  Beauty is an idea created, and while we can’t destroy it, we can choose to look past it.  I vote we start judging beauty from the inside.  Look at how people treat others, listen to how they laugh when they are watching The Office,  and look for it inside yourself.


P.s  If you feel like it, I welcome you to follow in my footsteps and comments on this blog site what you don’t like about yourself, and search for a way to move past it.  It’s all in confidence. Lots of love.


A Rude Awakening

Today I had an unpleasant realization: life is not a movie or a tv show.

How shitty is that?

As a film student, I am well versed in the ebb and flow of stories on-screen.  I know where character development is most likely to occur,  what a “call to adventure” is, and that almost everything ends where it should (except How I Met Your Mother, but that is a topic for another day).

I am accustomed to knowing what the outcome will be.  When the Protagonist will fall down, and I know they  will stand back up before the credits roll.

Recently, life has come to show me, that unlike a rom-com, or a coming of age story, life is not predictable and or wrapped up in 2 hours and 30 minutes.  No, it rambles on and on like Interstellar.

We cannot predict the outcome of the script written for us.  Sometimes the plot is shaky, and feels disconnected.  Sometimes the protagonist and antagonist aren’t clear.  Maybe we aren’t even sure WE are the protagonists of our own stories.  Characters leave, settings change, and whole episodes are based around binge watching.  There is no poetry, no overriding theme, or dance number.

Life is a bunch of misread dialogue, faulty characters, and senseless plot twists.

I guess that is the beauty of life.  To not know how it ends.  It adds a mystery, a feeling of purpose, even if the search for that purpose feels like what should be deleted scenes.

Life is not a movie, but it’s still of story, which gives us, the characters, some control.  It’s like one of those choose your own adventure books we read as kids.  We are born, and from then on, life is an endless stream of possibilities.   Part of the beauty of the lack of a script, is that we can go off the path.  There are no lines, just pivotal moments brought on by our choices.

Yes, sometimes it seems that everything would be better if life was a movie.  Movies are magical, they make you feel alive, vibrant, and inspired.  Life can too.  It may not always be as glamorous, but that is all a front for someone else’s idea of happily ever after.  Make your own movie magic.

My life is not a movie, but I’m going to squeeze a dance number in somewhere.

Love Thy Selfie

I used to think people who posted lots of selfies (pictures of one’s self for the less-hip readers) on various social media sites, were egotistical and asking for attention.  Since then, my opinion has changed.

I am a proud supporters of self love and love of selfies.

Because, really, what is wrong with taking and posting pictures of yourself?

I’ve grown to love scrolling Instagram and seeing selfie after selfie from beautiful men and women. Do you know why?  Because it means these lovely humans found themselves looking good enough in their own opinion to show themselves off.

This may not seem important, but it is.  Low self confidence, negative body image, and haters are major problems in our society.  Media is a constant negative force against self confidence.  There are things constantly telling us to look different to fit societies standards of beauty.

This is bullshit- please don’t excuses my language, I don’t really care…

But I do care about what people think of themselves, and I don’t want anyone to see themselves in a bad light.

So I support selfies.  I support good lighting.  I support black and white filters, half of the face pictures, full faced makeup selfies, and natural faces in the camera lens.

When I take selfies, I feel better about myself.  So I stopped feeling guilty for taking them.  Now, when I feel good about myself, may hair is nice, or the lighting is bomb, I say screw it.

I love my selfie, I hope everyone can love their’s too.


How to Adult

We 90’s babies are reaching an exciting point in our life.  A time where we can start to be considered as adults.

I gotta say, I find it pretty cool. We are big kids now.

In the US I can vote (WHICH EVERYONE SHOULD DO), be in porn, buy lottery tickets, go to jail,  and join the military.

In the UK, I can go to a bar and have a drink with a friend.

It’s weird, it’s exciting, it’s down right terrifying.

For all the 18 year olds and such out there who are afraid and don’t like setting their own bed time quite yet, I’m with you. To combat this newfound adulthood, I’ve come up with a list.


  1. Don’t say “how to adult”, I’m sorry I lead you wrong so quickly.
  2. Learn to do your laundry and do it, don’t wait until it’s time to go home for break.
  3. Register to vote and try really hard to discover your own political views, not just the ones you were born into.
  4. Call your parents. Adults call their parents, it’s a real thing, I’ve seen it.
  5. Form adult relationships. Less drama, less pressure, more company.
  6. Talk to your parents about life. Learn from them.
  7. Recycle.
  8. Buy bath salts and learn how they work to prepare yourselves for stress relief baths in the future.
  9. Laugh at teenagers and their silly problems and pretend like you aren’t still wondering if the cute guy from class is going to text you.
  10. Make more age appropriate FB posts: ” Hi Christie, Just got a Facebook, hope your family is okay, sorry your dog had a heart attack”. OR “Sweetheart, it’s GRANDMA, how do I log off?”.
  11. Get a blazer. Plus 1 for shoulder pads.
  12. Read The New York Times, know what is going on.
  13. Stop believing everything you hear or see and look into it yourself.
  14. Tell some young’ins to quiet down.
  15. Eat some of that boring old original frozen yogurt with some granola shit on it and fruit. NO OREOS FOR YOU.

In all seriousness, I don’t believe there is a single way to be an adult.   It’s a transition, a big one, and everyone does it their own way.

I encourage all 18-20 somethings to be good adults.  Don’t look down on younger generations, instead, encourage them.  Be a role model.  Take matters into your own hands by figuring out what you believe in and support.  Start taking control of your life, it’s time.

Feminism: the Myth VS the Legend

I am Feminist.  I am not afraid to admit that, why would I be?

Oh right, I know why…  There is a rumor mill going around about what it means to be a Feminist, and it is not very nice.

I want to set the record straight about what it means to be a Feminist, because I think it is important to accept feminism and destroy the taboo of the word.


Media has strewed societies ideas of feminism.  Feminists are shown as bra burning, men hating, lesbians.

Seriously?  Who the hell would burn a bra?  That shit is expensive.

Men hating?  Sure, I hate some men.  I also hate some women.  I love all dogs.

And yes, we are all lesbians.

There is a radical side of feminism that expresses ideas that are not true feminist ideals. Women who decide they need to put men down to pull themselves up, slut shame other women, victim blame, and are unwilling to welcome WOC and Trans-Women into feminism, ARE NOT FEMINISTS.

They are just angry about something and probably could use a hug.

*February 6th: Hug a Radical Feminist Day.  New National Holiday.

Radicals do not follow feminist principals, and give the movement a bad rep.


What is true Feminism?

Websters Dictionary defines it as “the belief that men and women should have equal rights and opportunities”.

Simple as that.

Woah that was like, really easy.

Feminism is a movement to create equality between the genders, that is the bottom line.

It is not about making women superior to men.  It is about demolishing the gender pay gap, breaking down the glass ceiling, letting men be stay at home dads, and so on.   Feminism wants to break down the gap between the genders.

For women, it means equal pay, more respect, the option to choose work, motherhood, or both, stopping slut shaming and victim blaming, and granting more opportunities.

For men, it means awareness on men being raped, openness to stay at home dads/ and men who aren’t supporting the household solely, and being able to be open and honest and even cry, and not have your masculinity questioned for that.

It means opening up to gender fluids, transgender people, and so on, and making them equal as well, whether they consider themselves a man, woman, or anything in between.

Feminism is beautiful, and I hope that soon it will be looked at as what it is, a movement for equality.  Nothing more, nothing less.