When asking the Universe for a sign... BE SPECIFIC.
It has been awhile since I have written anything, to my devoted fans (mom and dad), I apologize. I have not felt inspired. I didn't want to give you garbage. I asked the Universe for help. It should be noted I envision the Universe as Paul Giamatti holding a martini, sitting by a kid pool, and eating onion rings. I said, "Hey Universe, thanks for the help with my rash (it's almost gone), helping me make more money, and getting me to talk to that cute guy in my building (turns out he's gay, but he said he might take me to his families Thanksgiving), but I need help to be inspired so I can write something for my blog. My fans (mom and dad) need me!"
I did not know this is what Paul Giamatti had in mind.
November 8, 2016 broke my heart. I do not mean an Avril Lavigne broken heart where she sings about her skater boy. My heart broke like Adele's heart broke on her 21 album. My heart stopped beating like Amy Winehouse's stopped during her drug overdose. I could feel Hodor being stabbed while he held that fucking door. Fuck you, November 8, 2016.
I was half way through my colossal of a margarita. I already drank two beers and two hard ciders. It was my friends birthday, and we wanted to celebrate at a bar, near a television. I warned him that morning saying if Hilary didn't win, his birthday would be the worst day ever. I regret saying this.
The words popped on the screen, "Clinton Calls to Concede." I hear a girl crying at the bar. Some other girl was snap chatting/screaming that Trump is president. Two people were running around celebrating weed being legalized. I could not move. I could not speak. The words Trump is President would not leave my mouth. And as Mike Pence walked out on stage, and introduced the new President Elect.... The tears rolled down my cheeks. I turned to my friend with red eyes, a snotty nose, and asked him in the midst of sobs, "Do you want a birthday shot?!" He did. I drank with him. The rest of the night was a blur.
The next morning, I woke up with one hell of a hang over. I almost threw up three times.
This past week has been off. People cried at work (ME). Fear was running through the streets. Anger was flooding Facebook. Everyone has a different solution for the cure of getting rid of Trump. It gave me a headache, or maybe that was my hang over...
After watching Bill Maher, following America Ferrera's Instagram, attending the protest in Downtown LA, and crying from Kate Mckinnon's opening of SNL, all I can say is this, I am not giving up. YOU HEAR ME WORLD!? THIS IS NOT THE FINAL BATTLE, YOU HAVE TAKEN ROHAND BUT WE WILL MEET AGAIN HELMS DEEP! AND WE WILL MEET AGAIN AT THE END WHERE WE WILL FIGHT IN FRONT OF THAT HUGE TOWER WITH AN EYE BALL.
In the words of Maya Angelou, "Nothing will work unless you do." I am ready to work. I am calling on my friends, now is our time. As a writer, I promise to stay educated and relay my passion to you in a funny and relatable way. Whether that be through blogs, scripts, or my one woman band. As an actor, I will not work on bullshit. My musician friends, make your music! Hearts are empty, we need you to fill them up! My painter friends! PAINT! Let your strokes of paint illuminate this world in a time of darkness! Models! Walk, dammit! Walk to the future! Bakers must bake! Mainly because I am hungry and would love a muffin, but you should bake! Accountants! COUNT THOSE NUMBERS!
Charlie Chaplin said it best, "You the people have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness. You the people have the power to make life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure. Then in the name of democracy, let's use that power- let us all unite."
Let us unite. We build bridges, not walls. California, fuck Calexit, we have a privilege, do not turn your back on your brothers and sisters who need you now more than ever, reach your hands out, and fight. We need our voices to reach out to the middle of America
I understand this blog is a little different, but I was inspired. #fuckpaulgiamatti
And to my friend whose birthday fell on November 8, if you want a re-do on your birthday, I completely understand. I'm sorry I cried. I'm sorry I said your face looks funny. I'm sorry I told everyone that you pooped your pants when you were having a bad day and that's why you were so grumpy (that wasn't on your birthday, it was a while ago but I wanted to get it off my chest now).
We just sent you an email. Please click the link in the email to confirm your subscription!
OKSubscriptions powered by Strikingly