Is Life Really Easier Being Beautiul?

I know, I know, the grass is always greener on the other side. How you look inevitably effects everyone’s life in some way. How we feel that we look effects our self esteem, our attitude, our treatment of other people, our treatment of ourselves. Everyone wants to be beautiful don’t they? But I see just as many average and underaverage looking people who are happy, in healthy relationships, with good jobs, etc. I also see a lot of fucked up so called beautiful people. I, for one, hate that I have a hard time with men acting like pigs. Everywhere, all the time.

I am going through a very hard time in my life right now. This “friend” called me and offered me a roommate situation supposedly because my friendship has meant so much to him. Before even considering it, I informed him that where I live must be my safe haven. There would be no touchy, touchy. I would not accept being disrespected in any way. He has solicited and tried to molest me since the moment I arrived. After one whole day I am again packing my shit and moving on.

As far as finding employment…there are 3 situations.

1. The person hiring is female. I don’t get the job.

2. The person hiring is male. I don’t get the job because I won’t sleep with him.

3. The person hiring is male. I don’t get the job because hiring me would piss off his wife.

Moral of the story is…I don’t often get the job.

I will keep you posted as to how things go from here. Wish me luck. I have to go have some Crab Legs at Joe’s Crab Shack. Duty calls…


Bathroom Selfie


My friends Pam and Steve took me to Ruths Chris the other night. And I took a moment in the bathroom to strike a pose. I think I did that so I could check to see if I was still appearing to have it together when on the inside I was falling apart.   I  say to fake it until you make it. And there’s a whole lot of faking going on. If I can channel my inner ability to hide my turmoil into my upcoming film roles, I just might end up with an Oscar. I’ve even come close to convincing myself that if I can keep up a happy image that somehow I would actually feel happiness on the inside. So far it hasn’t worked. But it keeps people from constantly asking me what’s wrong. Unless I have an appointment I pretty much just stay to

Dinner with a Stranger

Did I mention that I was an escort? I spent my day in solitude shut up in my bedroom. At the very last moment I jumped in the shower and rushed to make it to my 6pm appointment…my one and only engagement tonight.  $1000 to spend the entire nights starting with a steak dinner at Charlie’s  Steakhouse and proceeded on through the evening and amazingly enough I managed to consistently come up with witty and intriguing conversation even if there my nerves were on edge. And when I say consistently, I pretty much mean I was most definitely talking too much.  When I’m stressed out I can be quite the chatty patty.


And now I lay here listening to the sounds of male snoring after watching Alvin and the Chipmunks 4. I spent three days on set as an extra, but my impressive skill at acting like a sleeping woman on a plane ended up on the cutting room floor. But I know I was there and that’s what matters.  And my little girl was so proud that her mommy was in the chipmunk movie even if it wasn’t my claim to fame. As long as I don’t screw it up, my day of success could be right around the corner. At this point my success will have to be huge though, 10x bigger than my failure, to matter in anyone’s eyes.

Once I did bad and of that I heard ever, twice I did good…And that I heard never


And if all else fails there”s always California…

A Broken Piece

I have a hard time comprehending that my feelings are not factual entities. They seem sometimes to turn into living, breathing beings. One obvious discovery in my search for self is that any extreme emotion can be dangerous for me. As a hopeless drug addict, sometimes I would use over being too happy. Any overwhelming joy, excitement, or big celebration knocked me off balance. If I managed to achieve one of my hearts desires, instead of following through, I became disoriented and nervous. Once I realized this truth, suddenly it became such an obvious and destructive part of my entire childhood and adult existence. As much as I hate sorrow and grief, happiness isn’t a comfortable emotion for me either. At least I know where I stand with pain and sadness. No surprise sucker punches like when things are going too good. The big blows seem to come when you are on top of the world. I’m a horrible winner. But I make a damn beautiful loser. Now, as I prepare to follow my dream of acting and take on my first speaking role, it’s hard not to keep looking over my shoulder. The enemy isn’t following me, but inside me. The one who could screw this up is myself. A film role and parts in two web series have landed in my lap. I need to appreciate my good luck a little more. Be content instead of maniacally happy. Find calm within my crazy.



Home No More

To lay it out in a quick sentence, I just got out of jail. During my incarceration the process was started by my land lord to have my son and I evicted.  This is what I came home to: my son and his girlfriend moved into my bedroom, a chaotic mess in every room, my son’s friends living in the two other bedrooms, two cats and a dog that used the garage to pee and poop, my other car in impound, my ex in the hospital from a heroin overdose. And some how it was all my fault. My son has his own list of things that I’m to blame for. But the moral of the story seems to be..if I hadn’t gone to jail, none of this would have happened. My anger screams back that if someone would have bailed me out, life would also be more or less salvageable. My mother, son, and daughter thought I needed to learn something and sit in jail a while. The lesson I learned was that everything that is beyond my control, I no longer take the blame for. So instead of stubbornly holding on to my house, I need to move forward. Desperation will not change my situation. But it will lead only to more insanity. I look back on the times I’ve lost houses and cars. This is the first time I let myself grieve and feel the loss. Two days ago I made $850 and then it was stolen from me by the next morning. I spent hours in agony feeling defeated. It obviously was not meant for me to rectify things financially so quickly. My money will now have to be strategically spent as there will never be enough in time to save the situation. Rent I guess isn’t where my cash is best used. My license is $2600 to reinstate and then over $700 to get my BMW out of impound. The kicker is that I have already sold it for the cost of impound but can’t get it until I reinstate my license anyway. My jail cell mate bonded me out and there’s no way I can back down on the car deal I made with her. I guess I’ll get my son’s car out of impound and hope a miracle occurs to straighten out the rest. Just for the principle of it, my son’s car can not be given back to him. His refusal to bond me out and the fact that he has his own lessons to learn, mean I have to be strong and deal with his anger. Giving in would probably lose his respect in the long run. If I  ever get any respect back it won’t be from letting him walk on me. What I see as me giving him out of love isn’t how I’ll ever have my son’s understanding. He might not ever see my genuine intentions as a mother; To be his mother and know how badly I’ve screwed up is one of the hardest truths to bear; It brought me happiness to give my son his first car, watch him get his license, walk out the door for work, my baby all grown up.  His disappointments are harder on me than him. I absorb the pain and try to make it all better for him. And when I fail I terrorize myself with anguish and submit  to defeat. It’s no wonder he treats me like a failure…look at how I treat myself. I need to find a way to be there for him but also let him get the motivation to change things on his own. Though I haven’t a clue how to do it. Enabling isn’t the answer, and I’m incapable of fixing everything. If only I could see things through his eyes or read his mind. Does he love me underneath his disappointment and anger? Will time heal enough of his hurt to let him be happy and let his resentments toward me fade? One thing I completely take the blame for  the dark parts of his personality. I know without doubt that my past mistakes left everlasting scars. My tears or apologies will never heal them. This week I will instead be taking away his car. Because not taking it isn’t an option. It will hurt me more than him I have a feeling. His verbal abuse will cause a meltdown. His girlfriend feeds the fire. He obviously hates her, but I think enjoys the misery that he mistakes for love. It’s a habit I have shown him for years. It’s almost like looking in a mirror. Or at least a broken piece of one.



Over Again

There is a part of me that needs to share my inner most thoughts but the brutal content of my existence has been looking for an opening to reveal itself . I am a recovering, “you name it I’m recovering from it” atheist addict who makes a living as a high end escort. My family shames me emotionally by just the essence of my common genetic pool. My children are a volatile force of guilt, remorse, and heartbreak for which I am totally responsible. Not one romantic relationship has been a healthy one…emotionally and often physically in addition to the abuse I inflict regularly all by myself. And as once again I lose everything I’ve worked to acquire for the umpteenth time, I have a desire to reach out, not for sympathy but human interaction as I work through all of my misery. Lessons learned are either shared or forgotten and if forgotten they must be learned once more. My hope is not to forget. So I offer my story to the world and release myself from humiliation and fear by using a fictitious name so I can tell you my painful truths and reveal my darkest secrets. Maybe someone will relate. It seems we are all constantly recovering from something. This is my life in a blog. This is my attempt at redemption.