The Head And The Heart

I just noticed that I've lost it. I've lost the magic. It's been stifled. Or killed. Or gone on holiday or something. It's just gone. And the fact that I am just noticing it does not make for the fact that because I am noticing it it is still there but rather it reminds me how long it's been gone for.

It's that thing. That thing that happens when I watch movies or television shows. I can remember the last time it happened, and if that's the case, it's even worse that the last time it happened was two months ago now. Two months. Two months ago for the magic inside. The magic that always said, "i could have played that part". Or "if i had just stuck with it a little longer, i would have broken through too".

It is a sad thing when you realize that part of you is practically dead. Perhaps it's dead because I won't allow it to live and breathe. I killed it. On purpose. Because I know things can't be that way. Not right now, and let's be honest, probably not ever. I can't go back to that life. Stringing together paychecks, working seven days a week with different jobs to make it work. It's not a life. But if that's not, what is this I'm living currently. This thing. Called. Work. And just work. Not work to help your dreams come to fruition. Work that you count down days until your next vacation or day off. This thing that people, the common person does every single day. But me. I'm anything but common, so how do I squeeze myself into this mould daily? Duh. Acting. Obviously.

I miss it. I don't let dreams die easily, but I guess dreams can't speak up for themselves when they don't die but are rather killed off. 

"i could have played that part."

"that could be me."

"i just need the right agent."

"i know i have it, i can just feel it. it will work out for me."

"i've already been in like 4 movies, i am no longer aspiring, i'm doing it!"

"i didn't burn all those bridges behind me to not create new ones in front."

"i could have played that part."

Just a girl, playing a new part, a role so to speak, so much so, she can hardly remember her last one, Josslyn DeCrosta, Actress.

Sox Noise

It has been way too long. I am good. I hope you are the same. This summer flies by as we are more than half way through speeding toward fall and winter and so on. It moves. However swiftly. Day by day by day. I don't often complain about the heat, except when I am in my car. There is something about being in my car, with a failing air conditioner, dog hair invading, that I just can't stand myself or the small box that I am holed up in either on my way to work or home, or the groc, or wherever.

So I've come to love thunderstorms. Me. The little girl that would run to the basement as I was growing up with even a thunderstorm warning moving across the screen on WTNH. But now, now I look quite forward to them happening. Being home, sitting in my amazing apartment. Dark clouds moving in slowing with the low rumbles miles and miles away, I quite enjoy it. The rain starts, slowly at first and then the patter on the air conditioner gets louder and louder. I relish in this sound.

Well, I wanted to check in. Let you know I was still around, and thank you for checking every now and again.

Did I tell you I miss you? Well, yes, I truly do. I think about you often and wonder at times what you are up to. I hope you are enjoying your summer, the way I have come to love mine. And the storms, I hope those storms are rolling in and you are laying down on your hardwood floor, music turned low, counting after each flash of lightening to see how far away the storm is. I hope this for you.

Just a girl, almost forgetting her tagline because it's been so long, quietly and randomly doing this one more time.

Wii Muddle

It was the best of times and the worst. Well, no, that is a little dramatic. Definitely not the worst by any means. But still, something about it leaves me a little...off, for lack of a better defining word.

In mere days, just a short 38 hours from now, on the 28th, I will turn, 28. I shall wake up, go to work, go to the eye doctor, and head to my parent's house for a birthday dinner. A birthday dinner that I have not been home for in 2 years and even then, it was my niece's christening so I don't believe that "birthday dinner" really counted since there wasn't a birthday dinner that I could remember happening on that day. 

Totally getting off subject. 

I've never really had a birthday party. Well, once when I was 17 I had quite the successful party, but that was the one and only. Now last year, I spent my birthday eating cake, scratching off my annual scratch off card on a video chat with a boy 3,000 miles away. This year he wanted to do something better. This sweet sweet boy tried his hardest to give me something way better than that loneliness.

And so, approximately 2 months before my birthday he planned me a surprise party. A surprise party, that clearly the surprise was on me, when he woke up to let me know on Saturday morning that, sadly, no one could go, best friends didn't respond, and it was just "a bad weekend".

A bad weekend? Don't they know it's my birthday weekend? Which then lead me to my next thoughts...is it just me, or am I just not a good friend? Just not the type of friend you want to cancel plans for and be there for her party? Or make an appearance? Or make sure to let the party planner know that this is great...but...

Perhaps it's my sarcasm. Or my honest sense of humor. Or maybe sometimes I'm too honest. Or maybe it's that I'm not always the most social gal, so they figure why bother. In any case, it truly made me assess my friend base and I felt, well, for a lack of a better word, bad about it. Bad that it didn't happen, that I couldn't be surprised. That I, potentially, have no friends? Could it be, out of the once 900 facebook friends I once had, none of them were "good friends" so to speak? How is it? I mean, come on, I was president of my high school class for crying out loud? (She says with an ironic smirk).

Now don't think I am trying to make you feel bad, or pity me. It's just an honest question about life and how it works and maybe my shy home-body sarcastic nature has done me in. But please don't feel bad, because that is not the point of this. The point is the assessment of life and where it goes and how we get here be it train, plane, automobile, with a hand to hold in the seat next to you, or not.

Just a girl. Wondering, in life, who are your good friends? And who are the ones that just don't show up for the party...and perhaps, never will.

A.C. Newman

There are those people, well in my experience it is a good many people...that do this thing. This thing that once the conversation is over, the frustration just mounts as you wonder where it really went or what the point of it was. More often, over and over, I see this happen. And I wonder, why even bother? You clearly don't value my opinion that much, you just want to hear what you want.

I have, throughout the years, been that girl that people come to advice. I've always been that friend that people will come back to for their little therapy sessions over and over because they know I will listen and give advice when they want. But do they want it? This is the question I ask of myself. More often during these times I believe that when people ask for your advice, they are really asking for what they want to hear. And then, when they do not get this,  they either end the conversation, give a cryptic response, or my favorite get defensive over whatever statement you just made. Don't they realize that they came to you for advice? And that more over, since you are the one in the situation maybe you can see it a little more clearly?

I always wondered why I was that girl that my girlfriends would always drop after a little bit of time. I was that girl that would go above and beyond for my friendships, even at younger ages, including being the one that would give a birthday gifts when I would get nothing in return, or call and call and call them and never receive a phone call back. In short, embarrassingly enough, I wasn't good (and am still not, with the exception of a handful of my very close friends) in keeping a friend. Am I too honest? I don't believe that I am brutal in my words by any means. And a lot of times I feel the person out, if I don't think they want my advice, I just don't give it, but rather listen.

But back to the issue at hand...the ones that do ask for said advice and in turn, never take it. I try to present all sides clearly, never favoring one or the other, but playing devil's advocate on all the issues.  Don't they realize, we just care not to see them hurt?  Sigh.  Why bother? Ever notice that the advice you give on it would have worked better in the long run anyhow? 

Just a girl learning that she can't live any ones life for them, nor does she want to, and they have to learn for themselves, as hard as that may be for us to watch.

The Felice Brothers

It could have been Christmas, with the boxes scattered all over the worn hard wood floor. Big boxes, little boxes, boxes filled with things of a lifetime past. A lifetime that was packed up 10 months ago, waiting to emerge. Calling out, with each item hiding inside. Wondering at what point they would rush back into my life.

These boxes held my memories. Memories of lives past, of things that appear different from when I once had them strewn around a warm Los Angeles apartment, or a cold Brooklyn loft. Yes indeed things were different now. Not only have I lived many lives, these boxes now have as well. Being moved 3,000 miles to a garage, down to a basement, back to a garage, to a truck and into another home.

For each time I pulled my box cutter across the tape a new surprise would pop out. Books from my childhood, scripts, items from movie premiere's, my frying pan.  Who was this person? I look at these items with curiosity trying to place who exactly she was in my brain. Movie premiere's? A childhood long since passed... I can't quite figure her out, and yet become nostalgic for her all the same.

Other thing have changed too. The world has changed. It's not just me. It's finding a shirt with an intact New York skyline on it; or pictures from a marriage that is since broken. The images all look happy enough, never to know what kind of miserable end they would encounter. I piece it all together one by one, but still don't understand. How did things get to be this way? How did I get to be this way?

All of this is neither good nor bad, it just is. Each box is my time capsule. It reminds me of you, or you, or you, my friends, my family, my loves, everything that has made me, me. But who am I know? It all remains to be seen.

Just a girl. Unpacking once again, for these boxes have sat through many moons to once again be torn open to find their treasures (or tragedies) inside.

Lissie

She's the woman that made me initially hate the color red. The person I experienced my first earth quake with at a mere few months old, in a place quakes never happened. The one that I would eat my bologna sandwiches with between kindergarten classes. The woman that taught me how to cook...especially her famous fried meatballs. The one that knows everything about me, that I talk to every day regardless of where I am. The woman that would sleep with her cell phone under her pillow waiting for me to text when I got home...when living in a different states. The one that makes me jealous  of my older sisters, because they will always have any where from 5-9 years longer with her than I will. She has loved me, cried with me, cried for me, made me change outfits if she didn't like what I was wearing, supported me, got me through my worst of times as well as my best. She is everything I hope to be someday, and everything I have worked towards becoming. The one that I couldn't imagine a day with out. The one that understood when I didn't want to live away at college; understood when I had to move to New York to "do my acting thing"; the one that was stronger than I was upon saying goodbye the morning that I drove off on my way to Los Angeles; and the one that said she would see me back home once I got to Connecticut. She sends easter bread in the mail; is my best scrabble opponent, and loves making puzzles with me. The woman that never squelched dreams, but let her little dreamer just dream bigger. The one that would move me out of a scary New York apartment, and years later, a lonely Los Angeles one. She is the smiley face permanently etched into my foot that smiles at me during each step I take every day. She is my best friend. She is my mother, and the most special thing in my life. 

Just a girl, reflecting on the best Momma in the world on this particular day dedicated to the such. I can proudly say, every day is my Mother's Day.

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes

I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy.  Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.  Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that.  Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.

–Anonymous

 

Just a girl, wondering if they've really truly gotten the closure they were still searching for, or if in time, it will just be something new.

Counting Crows

Laying on the cold hard wood floor of that apartment. Feeling the music through my back, down my legs, out to my toes and hands. Tears slowly running down my hot cheeks. Hand through my hair wondering how I got to that awful place.

I breathed in. And out. And in again nice and slowly, just like I was taught. But I couldn't de-stress, couldn't calm down. Of course it had been much worse before, but even at this moment I couldn't quiet what was going on inside. Have you ever felt so alone? These are the moments that in turn would help me to find my way later on down the road. That would give me the strength to just be, not caring what the others thought. Not even the ones I cared about at times.

Nights like those all I could do was breathe in the loneliness. And truly learn how to be alone. Fending for myself. Saturday nights would consist of me getting off my shift and heading to the local Gelson's and walking up and down the aisles. Trying to kill some time before I once again had to go home. The frozen food section by far was my favorite aisle. 

From there I would head home with all the fix-ins for a dinner and a bottle of wine. People in life told me that I couldn't go from relationship to relationship, or depend on others all the time. That at some point I just needed to learn how to make it on my own. Learn to be me. Find the very essence that made Josslyn, Josslyn. I had to learn to stand on my own two feet. Cooking dinner, pouring a glass, and putting that music on taught me just that. No roommates around to pull my attention. No one at all around. This in the end would make me a much better person. One that knew what she wanted. And stop at nothing to get it, even when eventually she wouldn't get it, or things wouldn't go her way. So many life lesson learned at 26. And 25. And hell even 27 for that matter. 

I guess this seems sad and all...but it doesn't mean to be. I mean yes, looking back on many of those times, it does make me sad, but it also brings me to a place to be able to say, embrace your loneliness. Learn from it. Go out to a restaurant and have a meal alone, because I can guarantee you the next time you have that same meal sitting across from someone that truly gets you, it will make all the difference in the world. You will hear yourself say things that will make you thankful that you could finally share them with someone else.

And you will love harder. 

Just a girl, with a love of the frozen food section, an aisle that got her through some of the saddest of times.

Ears Ringing

I should write. I should write. I should write. I should write. And this April slowly, no quickly comes to a close and I think I should write I must write I need to write. How do I ever make time to write. From nothing to do onto something every minute for the people around me. The car rides. The Starbucks requests. On again off again and once again back in again. Through it all I can't fall, knowing that this is what I requested from everyday since last fall. The many ways the words work and I just keep thinking I should write. I need to write. To enrich me, to awake my soul with a deeper theme of it all. But I am tired and the rambles keep flowing as I lay my head to the pillow each night wondering how and when I got here. To this moment. To this place. 3,000 miles from that other place. What I would give for a day of tours. But now it's all changed. It's all different. I think. It just. Got serious. I do. Don't give up. Keep checking back again. I promise there will be more. Be more of this stuff we call blogging. Out into the blogosphere. Out into the unkown. For the freedom of speech and what it's worth. Well what it's worth to me can't mean as much as a paycheck since I did it more when the latter wasn't around. I wasn't around. I woke up and layed back down. To the sound of the leaves falling. The snow falling. The rain falling. My mind falling. Until the phone call came and brought me to this place. This place that woke me up at 7am day after day after day after day. Welcome to being an adult. Welcome to being part of the population. You grew up over night because you had to. No more breakfast sandwiches. No more snow days. No more mid day naps. No more writing. Although I know I have to write. I want to write. I yearn to write. No time to write. 

Just a girl, with the flow of the thoughts out into the unknown, and this is me now but it always has been, don't you wish you really knew me back then?

Golf

You are waiting patiently. Constantly refreshing your screen. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Finally, finally after 7 days and some odd hours there it is. You wonder where she is. What she's been up to. And why she isn't visiting you more regularly. Will it change? Has she forgotten? And you thought you had been through this once before that she had disappeared and promised she would be back around much more often. But alas, she's gone. Relegated to 1 visit per week of the thoughts that spew from her head onto a blank white page.

You want to know where she's been? Really? Well let me share it all with you.

It's called IMALIVE. It's considered to be "the first online crisis network with 100% of it's volunteers trained and certified in crisis intervention," as the website states. It takes approximately 50 hours of training, and being the now working girl that I am, I have spent many of my nights reading, taking in information to prepare myself for the journey that I will embark on once all training, practice chats, and 10 hours of working with a clinician have been completed. And in turn, I will be off and running, so to speak.

Looking to help others, and to give back, I signed up for this while my unemployment was at it's height and I was wondering what to do next. Between the blog, the 750words.com, and the random trip to Los Angeles, I knew I had more in me. Stumbling upon IMALIVE was one of the best things possible since I know that soon I will be able to help others during their hard times. 

I've seen a lot in my life and I feel eager to use my training and experiences to listen and learn from others. I can't say enough great things about this idea of an online crisis network. It is the first of it's kind, and in a text heavy world, I truly believe that it may be just the thing to help people in need. My training has been rigorous, and opened my eyes to many of the problems and pre-conceived notions of suicidal people. The training has been quite interesting, and intense.

So forgive me if I haven't been around as much dear friend. I haven't forgotten about you one bit. And hopefully I can get back on the ball, so the next time you refresh your screen I am here. With a new story to tell.

Just a girl, a now certified Online Suicide Intervention Specialist, with many more things on her plate than possibly imagined only 1 month ago. So be patient. Stand by me, and I'll stand by you in return. 

April Smith and the Great Picture Show

Originally this started as test of time. Could I stand the test? Could I make this happen? Could I survive the what I now know would be months until I got, ...work. Work. WORK.

The test has been completed in every sense of the word. 34 weeks into unemployment, and I, statistic that I am, have gotten myself, well employed.

So, from here on in, things change. For good, for bad, forever because I get up and work. I come home, fall asleep early. Get up do it again until the weekend. And when the weekend happens, I chant, "I LOVE THIS WEEKEND!" or "So this is what a weekend is like...for all you...working people." But I am that person now. That working person.

They say the average unemployment falls somewhere between 34-42 weeks. I was the lucky one landing on the shorter end of that spectrum. You always hear people say, "I'm unemployed" and some of us think (well I did at least) "well why don't you go out and get a job already!" Who knew it would take so long. So many applications. So many letters saying this position has been filled, or the more regular, just never hearing back from the company you applied for. It's tough. It's hurtful. And you wonder when it will end.

But trust me. I've been down the road, and you've followed it. One filled with The Bachelor, a lot of sleeping, tireless little activities to fill my time, all the while wondering when my time would be up. When it would be my turn to get a job. To go out in the workforce and make something happen. The girl, voted most likely to succeed by her high school class seemingly not succeeding at anything. Anything she tried to do.

And then, one day, just like that, I wake up to a 45 hour work week. Leaving the dog behind. Being too tired for The Bachelor. And tireless activities seem to put me into a coma.  

Hang in there buddy, you too will have your new found, unasked for freedom taken away, soon enough. 

Just a girl, an exhausted girl, knowing now that the 80's rock band Loverboy had it right: everybody really is working for the weekend. 

The Who

The clock ticks away as the insomnia sets in. I toss. Turn. Toss again. Close my eyes, only to to open them up and peer into the blackness that encompasses my room. My mind races, wondering why this constant bout of sleeplessness happens over and over. I feel the sweet little lump next to my belly that warms me, my little dog Banksy. Cleo on top of my legs. And all is peaceful in the world.

Well yes, while all might be peaceful in the world, inside this head of mine a busy New York street scene is unfolding. Complete with business men hailing cabs; fighting couples, and even the buzzing from the neon sign of a local diner. It plays out over and over, each time I toss a new character jumps into the scene. With each turn, a loud exit happens. I try to pay no attention and concentrate harder, but it's never that easy. The harder I concentrate, the more happening. Who knew a new Broadway play just opened up? Oh wait, it actually didn't, again it's my thoughts, feelings, imagination running wild.

My sleep, when it does happen, is strange. The most vivid dreams take place. All kinds of things. I could be in the lightest of sleep, and the visions that dance around are unlike anything else. Many can't remember their dreams, while I have the curse of constantly waking up and remember some part. Maybe this is why the sleep has trouble happening sometimes. Perhaps I don't want to get to the part where I dream. And perhaps that's why the constant other scenarios happen in my head. I take deep breaths hoping to fall back to what some would call a peaceful sleep, and every now and again it happens. Just every now and again though.

Just a girl, with a strange sleep cycle, wanting a quiet night, be it asleep or awake.

Ra Ra Riot

It came by way of a mixed tape. Love by mixed tape so to speak. Granted it wasn't even a mixed tape, it was a mix, sent through email, by something called send space.  We've come a long way from the days of waiting to press record as our favorite song came on the radio.

I had asked for "new music" months before. Many months later, he in turn, did finally reciprocate with the new music I had requested during my blue months in Los Angeles. Blue probably wouldn't even be the proper color, but rather a very dark navy. A color that would last through the end of 2009, and into the beginning of 2010, all the way to mid-March, when my music was finally received, downloaded, and labeled it's proper title, "Whiskey Sunset". This sunset called whiskey would be one to change my life as I knew it, for the moment and beyond, never to be the same again.

His name was George, and I am convinced he was my angel. Well the angel that would send the boy I was waiting for. Dating. Dating never seemed to end the way I had read in books when I was younger, I was waiting for my fairy tale and it wasn't until I stopped waiting that the "once upon a time" began.  And so it happened with a mix on repeat, and many conversations to follow.

It began as old friends catching up, talking music, and life, and the life they both lived in separate cities for the years prior (sometimes even in the same city, never to meet up or talk really). Soon it turned into all day chats while both were at work, onto telephone calls, and texts, hypothetical dates, and finally a meeting and reuniting one day in mid-April.

Two friends. Knowing each other for what felt like a lifetime. Even failing the same math class twice together almost 9 years earlier. Reconnecting made us wonder how we were never in each others lives very much prior, but we also understand that there was an angel out there, our George, who believed everything happens for a reason. He hinted that we had to live our other lives out before we could find each other, to become the people we were destined to be, finding happiness (finally) within ourselves before such a reconnection was to happen. And then it did. And everything changed, just like it did for the princess in the fairy tale.

Oh, did I mention it was by far the most perfect mix I've ever received? Maybe that helped a little...

Just a girl, a hinted at princess now that she has found her prince, and kissed a lot of frogs to get there, and she couldn't imagine life any other way. Thanks George. 

The Strokes

I know, I know. In part you are thinking I've forgotten about you. And in all honesty, in part, I have. I don't mean to, really. You know, the old trick, the second we step on a plane: out of sight out of mind. But I can promise, that was not the case one little bit. I thought of you and I thought, and I even visited you once. Have I lost your attention completely? I truly hope that is not the case, because I didn't mean for it to happen this way.

Last week I wrote to you, let my voice be heard. But this week, well this week, life has just gotten in the way. I kid you not. Who knew unemployment could make you into one hot mess of activities. Wait. What did she just say? Does that even...? Nah. Never mind. 

To take a plane back to the place you grew up from the place you formerly lived may just be the thing that tries to kill someone and bring them down. But not me. I walk off, tired, exhausted really, still full of tacos, ready to make some moves. And moves I did make. It's looking up from here, it really is. Like you, my fair-weathered reader couldn't imagine. I know what you are thinking, "if i am a fair weathered reader, then she in turn is a fair weather writer." Okay, fine, you win. But I promise to change that, once the crazy dies down.

Just a girl, with a busy week still in progress, trying to find the "me" time, while thinking of you.

Kings of Convenience

It's much different than I thought it would be. Seven months later, to go back to that place that I left what now feels like a lifetime ago. Although the second I arrive, and step off the plane, and start my drive down the 405, it's like nothing has changed. That's until I see all of them. And they are just as different as one might have imagined. Like they grew up, and yet we talk and laugh and I fall back into the rhythm that I know was once there, but I can't quite bring myself to want to remember. 

Driving once again, my car winding it's way around the streets I used to know. It's quiet, I drive alone, a feeling all too familiar to this place. But in the same thought I think, "this is nice".  Windows rolled down, the sun warming the left side of my face, my other home. I breathe in the familiarity, it comforts me, and I smile at my history's past. I did this. I lived here. Maybe not well a lot of the time, but it is still part of me. A stop on my journey to become who I am today, who I will turn into tomorrow, and who I am to become  in the future.

Soon I'll leave. Again. It's what I did. I left and came back and left again. Last time for seven months, who knows how long until I return again, but I will. I always do.The memories just the same I am sure will come flooding back, no matter how hard I try to keep them at bay. I can see you sitting in the seat next to me. I can see us going for dinner. I can see him hauling a couch up the stairs. And them packing my car. And the little ones yipping and pawing at my heels as I enter my apartment. The memories overwhelm me. There are so many, I practically don't know what to do with all of them. I hope to keep them filed away for the day I want to get back in touch with every single one. But for now, I'll take what I can get, and keep some memories for a rainy day. Although not a rainy LA day, because that doesn't happen all that often.

Another taco, or a Silver Lake cafe, or a Valley Village street, or the traffic, or maybe even the corner that I used to get really tired going around as I made my way home from running. Or my laundromat, we can't forget that. Luckily these places haven't changed. They hold my memories tightly for me, and I love this place for that. 

Just a girl, wandering her old streets, seeing old friends, and remembering that it wasn't all so bad, once she got out of her own way.

Footloose

Spontaneity. 

In recent years, I have been somewhat of a spontaneous person. Moving to New York and subsequently Los Angeles were relatively out of the blue decisions on my part. Something that I didn't decide over years or even months, or career changes, but rather just getting up, doing it and making it happen. Not easy decisions once I was moved and settled in, but I wasn't thinking of that as I was signing leases, crossing the country, or what have you.

While I don't always like to live by the rule of "last minute, impulse decisions", I feel as though every now and again, it is a good way to be. Whether on your own, or in relationships. For instance, I am a strong believer that couples, be it new, married, engaged, etc., need to get out of town at least once every 5 weeks. I think this helps to keep you looking forward to something as a couple, as well as gets you out of your normal routine. 

For me personally, impulse decisions like let's say a last minute trip to Los Angeles, don't happen extremely often, but every now and again must happen in order to get us over a hump so to speak. I guarantee that to get away will take your mind off the current and things usually happen upon returning that wouldn't have otherwise taken place. For example, it seems like every time I had ever gone out of town when living in LA, that was the time that I would get the most auditions, usually returning to a few still lingering and my general demeanor being slightly more upbeat upon walking back into the grind.

I also live by the general rule of thumb which is, you only live once. If there is a way to make a trip happen on the cheap, and it's not going to kill your bank account anymore than it already it, then why not do it? You only get one chance to do these things, so now is the time, take advantage of it and make it happen. Once you begin a career or have children, or an extremely high mortgage, or whatever it will be that may tie you down, you may not get another chance to just live. While you can. No holds barred. 

Just a girl, needing to use airline credit before it expires, and getting a plane ticket to LA for only $107, to make her way towards a weekend with friends and tacos, for a some downtime, before the real work begins.

Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova

So...here we are once again. I am only 2 days away from the big 7 month anniversary, of unemployment, of being home, of being stagnant. Who knew it would all last this long really...who knew. 

Here are just a few things I've learned in the past 7 months:

• It's okay to watch show's like The Bachelor or Dancing with the Stars, only if you don't get sucked in until about half-way through the season. Do this so you never have to admit you are a "true fan", just one that watched one episode and was "too far into it to stop now".
• White wine is your friend.
• Writing everyday for 60 days on 750words.com, will do none of the following things: get you a job, bring you closer to God, help you make money, or fix the situation in Egypt. It will: help you to dig deep into your subconscious, as well as train you to ramble just a little bit clearer.
• Deleting 700 friends on Facebook down to your closest 100 friends will make you feel infinitely better. Honestly, aren't we a little old for the fb lurking and awkward trips down memory lane?
• "Penis" is not okay to say at the Sunday dinner table, no matter how much wine you've had, or the fact that you were just trying to point out that your dog was a boy and not a girl.
• Snow only sucks when it causes major leaking at the house you are staying in while you can't afford a place of your own. Thus having serious construction happen with early mornings of chasing cats into enclosed spaces, and a dog who hates strangers and loud noises. 
• Most construction workers are gross human beings no matter what way you cut it.
• If you don't want recognition for something, stop posting it all over social networking sites.
• Getting your wisdom teeth out can be fun when it does not lead to dry sockets for a month and a subsequent infection in your left extraction site, making you wonder what you have done to deserve this.
• You aren't the only unemployed person out there so stop acting like it. Regroup, redirect your focus and keep applying. And don't feel bad to turn down something that doesn't interest you. You have been unemployed long enough, what's another couple of months?
• Having your father tell you daily, "it's gonna happen jossie! something big! i can feel it!" is both a blessing and a curse.
• Find something that excites you. For me, right now it is the prospect of beginning training for a new website called IMAlive.org. A site that is calling itself the world's first virtual crisis center, helping people through instant messaging, that will be available 24/7 with trained and certified volunteers. 
• A boyfriend that can cook great lobster is a keeper, and a definite must have in times like this.
• A dog CAN loose his spots...and get them back five months later...just like that. Magic.
• There are a couple of good people in LA (believe it or not). And I talk to one of them at least twice a week.
• Looking on the bright side, that if nothing else, you get this time with your mother, that you wouldn't trade for the world, and find yourself lucky to have had.
• White wine is your friend....oh, did I say that already?

Just a girl, an optimistic girl, knowing that at the end of the day, nothing is better than coming home to a little dog who treats every time he sees you like the first time, and for now, that is enough, 7 months later.

Yeah Yeah Yeahs

They stare at you with their little beady eyes. Tracking you as you cross the room. You walk, cherry popsicle in hand, as they scream at you. It begins with just one, then the rest quickly follow. They look at you, and look back, and look at you again. Over and over, with such short attention span.

You think to make it go away you will play some music, a distraction of sorts. Perhaps a little ABBA, or whatever else happens to be in the tape deck. They, in turn, just get louder. So perhaps they like swedish music. How were you supposed to know such things. You cross into another room, believing that silence must win out soon enough. As you sit, you turn your head to see two more staring. Staring you down, wondering what you are doing here. When you decided to show up, and how long you will stay. They too begin to scream to no avail. 

They begin to jump around, singing a chorus that sounds something like "go a-way", all four joining in, maybe five, you aren't really sure. But you know that can't be possible. They can't understand such things. Or can they? They judge you, as though you are stuck in a cage. They are jealous of you, because you can get outside, enjoy the warmth of the sun. You can spread your wings, take a walk, getaway, and so they yell at you wondering why you aren't doing just that.

You in turn question them in the same light. Why are they there? Of course they had no choice in the matter, they were plucked from their mother's side, which has become a curse in some circles, this one in particular. Yeah they are cute and all, but unless you are deaf, they are one of the more annoying things you have quite possibly ever been around. But alas, you sigh and feel sorry for them. They scream because they have no way out. We've done this to them, time and time again.

And so...moving upstairs, you hope that soon it will be "bedtime for bonzo", and contemplate their escape. 

Just a girl, trying to kill two (or five) angry birds, with one stone.

White Noise

Dear __________.

Did you ever have a day where you feel as though the follow through is a little off? Like the right steps aren't being taken to get to where people want to be. As though they can't see what is right in front of them, or what could lie right in front of them, if indeed they only went for it. 

Maybe it's just me. I see this constantly in the eyes of a friend of mine, who just keeps making the same mistakes over and over but never once stops to think that maybe if she tried a different route, she would arrive at a better outcome. Sometimes it seems so easy as an outsider looking in. But people need to make mistakes their way before they feel as though something different and perhaps better can be done.

I realize this clearly, __________. Many times over, when living in New York in my early twenties I would do things that looking back on them I say to myself, "what was i thinking?", but in that same moment I do believe that these are thing decisions that made me become the person I am. I learned quickly from my choices, not always an easy lesson, but one learned, nonetheless.

In your case I think you are learning but I do not think you are taking positive action. You are not living life to it's fullest, and you have no idea what that could even feel like. So I encourage you to fall out of routines, make some strong adult decisions, and become the person that you have always wanted, but were too scared to go forth and do. It is easier for anyone to wallow in their own misery then to go do, potentially fail, and try again. With these kind words, you will avoid a life of what ifs, but rather I do believe have more moments of fulfillment, as opposed to instant gratification.

Thank you for listening, ________. While it all might seem a little confusing now, someday soon I think it will hit you, and when it does, I will be there.

All my,

Just a girl, wondering why you do what you do, when there are clearly better things to be worrying about, and steps to take towards a happy future. 

Hammering Noise

Well I suppose I've probably hit my limit. My limit of what you might ask? Well perhaps you can figure that out, or perhaps you can't. Either way, I got your mid working just a little bit more today than it would have been otherwise, so I feel as though I've succeeded, for the moment anyhow. 

Trying to break through and hear my own thoughts although they just don't seem to be quite loud enough to make it over this noise. This white noise. Maybe it's black noise. Who really knows. Either way there is something to it that I am not quite understanding or ready to overcome, the limitless of the limits is still happening. As though I am stuck in an eternal math equation that I can't quite figure out the formula and for that matter the solution. The door goes up, the door goes down and yet no one has entered. No one new has been here. For all the time and the moments just sitting in this box I wonder, maybe it's too late. Too late for what I once did, and am bound for new ideas and such. Regardless, the foot steps don't stop, no matter how much brown paper and plastic is put to the test on the hard wood floors. They go up they go down, and the riddle, well I do believe it grows.

So we sit here. Waiting. I was taught not to wait many moons ago, but in this moment, waiting is the only thing I have left to do. Maybe I will make my self useful, offer my assistance, but I don't even think they know I am here, and if they did, well what a shock that would be. With their talking of birds and stoner clubs and other such nonsense that I can't make sense of in my head with the constant beat being drummed on to the bedroom walls. Like a metronome, it's steady for the first 35 seconds and then, well then it subsides.

Listen to what the Advil bottle tells you, <110 lbs...1 tablet every 4-6 hours as needed; not to exceed 4 tablets in a 24 hour period. I just wanted the pain in my mouth to subside.

Just a girl, trying to...

Meat Loaf

Green things. Green things were the absolute worst. That included: parsley, oregano, basil, and leaves on broccoli. I didn't eat seafood. Or chunky tomato sauce, or tomatoes in general. I couldn't eat ice cream or heavy dairy since I was lactose intolerant. Meat loaf was unspeakable. Hot dogs were gross. And pizza just didn't do it for me. To put it mildly, as a kid, I was a picky eater. 

Even though times were sometimes tough for my family, my dad would splurge and get me Burger King during my year in Brownies on a Tuesday night. I know I know, now that would be considered some kind of child endangerment due to obesity rates, but at the time, and for me, it was the best thing he could do since I was so picky, and a rather thin child. 

I can remember going to Pennsylvania for the first year "alone" since all my sister's were too grown up for such a trip and it ended up being my parents, my aunts, and me. We went to what I considered a "fancy" restaurant. Looking back, it was really just your average, not too nice, but not chain, Italian restaurant...I hated it. Way out of my league as far as my food tastes went, and I can clearly remember saying, "i'm a cheap date, i don't do fancy, just give me a cheeseburger and i'll be happy." Who knew I would ever grow out of that motto...

I don't think anyone in my family would have ever voted me "Most Likely to be an Adventurous Eater" as an adult. But somewhere along the way...well, it just happened. Probably around the time I was a senior in high school and shrimp was slowly introduced into my diet. From there it went to tofu, then thai food, onto clams and mussels, cooking for myself with chunky tomatoes, to Indian food, and then my very favorite, Ethiopian cuisine. 

Now, while I don't eat a whole lot of meat, my diet is rather diverse. I think of that scrawny little twelve year-old eating cereal at lunch, never once expecting to grow up to having a once a week craving for Ethiopian.

So I encourage you to do the same. Stretch your legs and see what's out there...I promise you won't be disappointed. And while I don't do this very often, at the bottom of this post you can find three of my very favorite Ethiopian restaurants, two on the east coast, one in Los Angeles, that in my opinion, are the best of the best, if you happen to be in the neighborhood.

Just a girl, with an endless appreciation for food, wondering how we get today's kids to be a little more adventurous, as well as some adults out there, and well, now being very hungry after writing this post.

Awash Restaurant
5990 1/2 Pico Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90035

Meskel 
199 East 3rd St., New York, NY 10184

Lalibela
176 Temple St. , New Haven, CT 06510

Florence and the Machine

Once upon a time, I had the best job in the world. Minus the drama of the break room, the less than satisfactory pay, and the not enough hours, it was indeed, with no sarcasm intended...the best job ever. If I could go back to it, I would in a heart beat. Sadly it is on the other side of the country, one I left behind along with my TV, bed, kitchen table, and everything else that wouldn't fit into my rented SUV.

In short, I "lifted the veil of secrecy on some of Hollywood's hottest locations". No joke. I was...a tour guide. And I absolutely loved it. After three weeks of training, a bible of a script to memorize and or learn, as well as a tram test at the end, it may have been the most work I put into landing a job. I was a delicate balance of facts and cute. I don't play funny well, so my tour was never one of constant jokes. But with a few quirky quips here or there, and high energy, I'd like to think that my tour was unique to me and lovable for just that reason.

Working at Universal Studios Hollywood, I looked forward to going in every time I landed a shift. Just me, 174 strangers, leaving behind tram dispatch, as well as the part of myself that went home to that lonely Valley Village apartment, for what was likely to be an adventure on most days. Worming our way through the front and back lot of the tour, with attractions throughout...no script in front of me, just some video clips to rely on, it was my time. There was no time to dwell on the what ifs of my personal life, the cranky tour guide I left behind on the couches in the break room, or whether or not I could stand another moment of the LA nonsense. 

It was the one job that I got to just be, doing what I loved. While it wasn't the "Josslyn DeCrosta Comedy Hour", as many of the other tour guides were good at, it was just me being me. I aimed to please, but I was also such a dork about it. I'm sure half of my jokes were only funny to me, filled with sarcasm as well as love for what I was talking about. Each tour became how many people could I make smile, or even chuckle, just a little.

The job was a special one. One that I felt not only that I was good at but also that I had this bit of time with these strangers on each tour to make their time in the park just a little bit brighter, even though I was having, on some days, such a tough time. It's something they did not need to know, and or I am sure they never once sensed as I put on my microphone and my smile, hands up in the air yelling a big "how's everybody doing today?" and looking for the type of response I wish I was feeling inside. Most days I went home, and felt just a little less lonely from my strangers on the tram.

Just a girl, longing for that job in the California sun, to make people smile once more by just being...well..herself, in one of the most fun jobs...ever.

Simon & Garfunkel

It was a little house, with a white picket fence. One bedroom downstairs, two bedrooms upstairs, a living room, basement, kitchen, one bathroom, 6 people, 1 dog, 90 rabbits, and some chickens. Apple trees, pumpkin patch, vegetable garden, flowers, and all kinds of other things that I am positive if you ask my sisters or even my parents how they remember this house, it will be different from the way I just described it.

In all actuality, it was the house that I grew up in. And while my sisters grew up there as well, this would be the only house, besides the one my parents are currently in, that I, in particular, was to live at. It would be the house that I would draw my boxes for hopscotch on the driveway; the one that I would fall going up the stairs and hit my chin so hard that I still have a scar; as well as the place that I was to practice on my snare drum in the basement for my first year in band. In some sense, for me, I'm pretty sure this place was magic, and in other senses, for everyone else, it may have been the place where dolls would begin to dance under tables.

The best thing about this house was the secret hole in the floor. As you climbed the stairs and reached the top you would be directly in front of a large closet, there was not much of a hallway other than this little area with two bedrooms on either side. But in this very floor, this very wooden floor in front of the large closet there was a small square piece of wood that could be lifted if you stuck just the right utensil inside of it. What was in the floor you may wonder? Oh my, a dream for any young child. I can't even name some of the goodies!

There were dishes to what looked like a dollhouse set inside. I can still remember them, they were blue with white specs on them. Many dust bunnies also hid inside, next to a few Lego men. As well as other kitchen wares for a dollhouse. As well as a couple of Duracell batteries. 

I don't know who lived there before us, or how these things got there. But the treasures you could find underneath this old piece of ply wood were practically endless. I don't really remember removing many of the items under the wood for fear of someone finding out. I can remember a screw in there that stuck out just the right way inside that our little hands had to be careful not to brush by it too hard.

This treasure in the floor was like my secret door. Whenever I got a chance, I would go up there, sometimes with a flashlight to see what i could find. Sometimes even laying on the floor at various angles to get a better look of what lie beneath. 

Just a girl, wishing so badly to go back to her little house with the white picket fence and the maroon shutters, back to her secret hole in the floor, when life was a little simpler and things were a little easier, for her at least. 

Con Funk Shun

It was the ground breaking ceremony of what was to be the new high school in the place I grew up. I was only in sixth grade, but they had picked a sixth grader from each elementary school in the town to be part of this ceremony since the children in that grade would be the first class to attend all four years at that new school. After the ceremony we had a fabulous lunch at a local banquet hall. Later that afternoon I would return to school, only to be very stomach sick and have to go home early.

Incidences like this often occurred throughout my childhood. For example, every year upon visiting my aunts on family vacation in Pennsylvania we would visit Hershey's Chocolate World. As a kid I would get the same treat after the tour year after year, vanilla ice cream with mini kisses, chocolate syrup and a cherry. Around the time I was ten, I began getting sick year after year on my favorite once a year dessert.

As I got slightly older, early teens, my stomach troubles grew increasingly worse. I wouldn't eat lunch at school, or I would only eat on a "good stomach day". Going out with friends, I would limit myself to my safe foods, or none at all. These methods grew largely due to not wanting to feel sick when I was out, or later in life ruining dates, or opening nights, or vacations or even New Year's Eve plans one year.

Even in my late twenties, I still have my secret little methods. Be it sneaking different stomach pills before a meal, or not eating at all until dinner on days that I am going to be out and about and potentially not near a bathroom. It's the worst feeling in the world, and at virtually any moment, my tummy troubles will increase.  

So many of us out there live with bad stomachs. And if you are like me, going to the stomach doctor, a lot of time just doesn't give you too many answers. They blame your problems mostly on stress, and while that might be the case some of the time, some times this is just the kind of thing we live with day to day. Stress or not. Good times or bad. Sickness and health. It just is. And it sucks.

I've learned to eat the foods I love, regardless, because most of the time whether I eat them or not, the outcome will be the same. Living with IBS, in some ways, has limited certain activities in my life, or I am just more cautious. It is one of the worst things to live with, I feel, because it deals with a topic most of us aren't comfortable talking about and let's be honest, I'm still not. Other than my mom, and boyfriend who deals with it quite well, I don't really want to have this conversation with anyone. Of why I run to the bathroom; or how I could eat something one day and the same exact thing the next and not be okay. But again, we learn to live with it because we have no other choice...and "it's just stress".

So if you are out there, and you, like me, don't leave the house without the Tums, Immodium, Pepcid, Greenies, and every other pill out there, know you aren't alone. And it sucks. And it has altered my life too. Also know, you have strength beyond compare in some sense and hopefully soon, someone will further understand IBS.

Just a girl, finding her happy balance, with Tums on hand, but sometimes needing to stay away from her favorite thing in the world...food. A self-proclaimed foodie, with stomach issues, does not a good match make. 

Lily Allen

You say you are over it. Well all you guys do really. That it's no big deal, that you guys broke up long ago, that you are just friends now, or not, but "nothing to be concerned about baby, i'm yours." All of you say this to calm us down from the fear that you still hold a candle somewhere for your ex. You talk us down when she calls, you even talk us down when she doesn't and we think that she will. But how much of this relies on the fact that we constantly still see her in your pictures and friends pictures of the two of you looking so happy on social networking sites. 

I imagine it was easier before the world became so technologically savvy. Relationships had a bit more solid footing to stand on. It goes back to my post, "Mumford & Sons", in part, I was erased so that the new girl wouldn't feel uncomfortable by my presence. But these days facebook does this thing where you can see friends pictures while you are looking at other albums on the site. More often than not I glance over and see my current boy cuddling up with his ex. Is this really fair for my healthy state of mind, suddenly being crashed from the memories that came before me? Before I ever existed?

You can't go around saying to people "hey, my girlfriend is crazy, take those pictures down!". Let me tell you, I know jealousy. And in the recent year, I have rather controlled and or grown up from having such intense feelings of it. BUT, how can I control such things when the ex just keeps showing up when I'm not even looking! Damn you social networking for making us so linked in that you ruin our relationships! You put ideas in our head! You cause us to be uncomfortable and squirm not knowing what we are going to see, and how it will make us feel and knowing we have the best boy in the world but it's just human nature to feel that twinge of jealousy and wonder each time an old pic of the old star couple pops up! 

Breathe.

Facebook should have a law about such things. Like you can only keep relevant pictures up of the last, let's say 16 months up. No? Irrational? Okay, you win.

If the past is just the past, do we need social networking sites to constantly be reminding us of it?

Just a girl, on a mission to eventually disconnect herself from the world of social networking, to focus on her and her man, and not have the past interfere with her present. 

Elliott Smith

You drone on in such a way, that I wonder how exactly you got to this place that you are today. You are angry and in turn I have decided that you are not welcome. I don't want your negative energy around me any longer. You have droned on enough. I can feel the anger radiating from from every fiber of your being, slowly filling the room, I think I am waiting for your head to explode. It wouldn't surprise me if it did at this very moment.

It's moments like this that I realize, it is not about me. It's not. Not even a little bit. From the way you butter your bread, to chain you wear around your neck, I don't know you. I don't know who you are or where you came from, or why you do the things you do. But it's you, not me. It's like the clouds in the sky, or the birds on the post, you can't help them. They just are. Maybe you could have not built the post, but the birds would have still kept coming no matter what you change. 

So I sit here, wondering what will happen to you. All the while I send you the good energy I have, well the good energy I try to muster up. I try and try and sometimes I can't find such good energy, but in time, I will and you, in turn, will receive it all. So that room can breathe a little bit clearer. And maybe you can feel just a little lighter. I hope you fly, I do. Like those birds, through the uncontrollable happy clouds. Lifting up leaving the heaviness that you feel here down below. 

Just a girl, with lots of good energy to spare, when she can find it, tired of the drone and feeling the sadness that lingers as you leave the room.

Girls

This is where is all turns around. I step off the train, and onto the busy New York City street. Cars whizzing by, people everywhere, as though nothing and everything has changed. I walk and talk a little slower, but everything there, well it stays the same minus a new restaurant where my old favorite was, and a new rehab bound celebrity on the front of the NY Post.

I'm grown up now. More grown than when I said goodbye over two years ago. I even dress a little differently, of course it took Los Angeles to teach me how to dress better. New York, well, I wasn't really out to impress many there. I'm still not, but that is completely besides the point. I have learned, a good pair of boots make all the difference. 

My goodbye with New York was not an easy one. One that was filled with what ifs, and should I's, and how so's, and I am not readys...in many ways, it completely mirrored my goodbye with Los Angeles. I am a girl that can confidently say, many years from now when I am a stay at home mom, scrambled egg stains on my shirt, and cleaning up leggos from every room of the house: "i lived on both coasts. and have had experiences that most people only dream of." Let's be honest, with a statement like that alone, I will probably never be a stay at home mom, still on the go, experiences abound, kids in tow.

So I trudge through my days, not knowing how long the trudging will last. But feeling, finally after six months of being stagnant, the dog days are over. This is what I have been preparing for. This is it! I learned, I grew up and it is finally time to put all those lessons to the test to see if they and or I fail or succeed. We learn, in time, that it is not about failing or succeeding but rather what we take out of each experience. How we move on from it and use it to our advantage. Take all the good, learn from the bad, and the sum of the equation could be potent. It's how I got to this point, it's how I've always been beginning with being a child and doing just that with my sisters. This theory has stood the test of my 27 years.

So this is it folks. Be ready. Let the winds take you. Because it is January the 25th and it is all happening. All of it. Right now. You are on your way to things you only dreamed, I promise. I can feel it, can't you?

Just a girl, with a new perspective, putting learned lessons to the test, and feeling, finally like it's a new day. I think my new year just began.