There could be worse places to be in life, and despite the fact that last Sunday I legit felt the lowest I've felt in a very long time (eight months of my life wasted and basically becoming non-existant, realizing the person you care about wasn't real to begin with, not a fun feeling, on top of the fact that I drunkenly fell after Opening Day at Yankee Stadium and had to get stitches, pictures to the right, it looks like I'm married to Chris Brown), I just keep reminding myself that you never want to be with someone who could treat another person that way. Because that means it's always in them and that's just not who I am. So here I am, in Boston, figuring it out.
That would have been my big story I spoke about last week - flying far to try to fix something I thought was fixable, having a "Notting Hill" moment of being a girl standing in front of a boy asking him to love her. But, as he said (and sometimes he get shit right), life ain't a movie and this baseballer definitely isn't Hugh Grant. I wish I had that story to tell, but I don't, so I'll ramble about some other things.
I don't know if it's because I'm getting older (26 is really hitting me in ways I never thought), but when I decided to pick the blog back up, I made a decision not to be so....ehhh, forthcoming with the guys I'm currently with. Outside of baseball dbag, whom it might take a while to write out of me, the rest of them, those I think will stay to myself. And yes, there have been some other athletes. In the interim of four months of waiting for baseball to give me an option to fix whatever it was that broke between us, I met other guys. None I'd want to date, quite a few that have girlfriends (God, cheating just doesn't change no matter how old you get), but guys who I guess gave me certain things that baseballer never did. And I don't want to blow them up. They're fun and I like having them around and they know about the blog. So while I still might chronicle my dating and life in general fails, I'm going to try to keep the identity part of it at a minimum.
Like I said, maybe it's because I'm 26 and I'm getting to a point where like... I just want something to stick and I thought bballer would, that I just kind of don't give a shit. Living in the city, being in my mid (god help me) 20s, and as baseballer so poetically said to me after he laughed at me while I cried (great guy), I'm in the same position for the 60th time. Well, he thinks 60th, but let's not get extreme. And honestly, I'm glad he is proud to now be part of the group of guys who took advantage and threw me aside when a new chick came around. That must be a real great accomplishment dude...getting thrown in a pile of guys who were so mean to me they laughed while I cried. Bragging rights? I think so!
Anyway, I decided to try to do everything in my power to go against my Piscean nature and focus on me. Not on my relationships, not on the guys I want to be with who put no effort toward me, and not on their careers. But on me. So I picked up the blog again, because I really do love writing this shit and I hated that I felt like I gave it up to "prove" something to baseballer. I started writing again. I started looking through all of my old articles, my pictures, who I was. Who I enjoyed being. I looked at myself in the mirror the other day, and despite my own health issue (those shall remain private), I mean... I weigh 99 lbs. Until I finally caved to fake and baking, I looked like Winona Ryder in Beetlejuice. I had this look of sadness that I just didn't have when I was focused last year, when I was writing the book, doin the cover shoot, giving the interviews. I watched that interview I did with David Pakman the other day and I was like Jesus, I looked great. I feel like the last eight months of loving someone who didn't have the balls to tell me to fuck off, of being the girl who didn't have her OWN balls to tell that dude to fuck off, took something out of me, and I'm trying to get it back, and picking the blog up is my first step.Growing my hair back out is the 2nd bit, because I chopped off 9 inches in February and donated it and I swear to God, you would have sworn someone cut off my arm. I cried for days. It's finally growing back and by summer it'll be fine, but if you want advice, if you're looking to change something to get over a guy who makes you sad, DON'T CUT OFF YOUR HAIR. This was it a few days after, but the way I'm angling my head makes it look way longer than it was. The shortest piece was at the top of my ear, longest piece was at my chin. I wanted to die.
So I see this in movie form, or show form. I still see the potential in it. And after Counting Crows and Adam Duritz decided to read my book, check out the blog and Tweet about it (somehow that would be so much cooler if it were 1996), more people drew an interest. He liked it. He complimented it. And I know I'm not the only one who sees the potential.
So then I reached out and took a shot. As most of you know, I love lax. And I am friends with basically every guy who played lacrosse from 1999-present on Facebook, even if I don't know them. There happened to be one I added a while ago I had never spoken to, who picked up after college, moved to LA and started doing the movie thing. Started a production company. And just finished a feature that is all sorts of adorable. Like, 500 Days of Summer meets the OC. And so I reached out, gave him the material, and while he might have been bullshitting the fuck out of me, he said he saw it too. And I'm hoping he can help me, help me write it, help me develop it, help me pitch it. And the fact that he's a former laxer, ah, c'mon. He probably knows all the stories already. Did I mention he is all sorts of cute too? Just throwing it out there...Regardless, even if he decides he can't or doesn't want to be part of it, speaking to him the other night gave me the confidence that you know what, despite all the spelling and grammar errors and my constant use of the word fuck, and my complete lack of understanding of what HTML is, the writing, it's there. And I know I can do something with it. I just have to keep pushing and not allow some dipshit, be he a Triple A baller player, a serious NHL star, or a fucking dude who works for CitiGroup, make me think what I want to do is stupid, shitty or unattractive because it's about sex and shamelessness.
So that's where I'm at right now. Banging around every now and then with some athletes that have been way fun lately to watch (because unlike baseballer, I fuck around and date to try new things and have fun, my bad), back to writing, back to trying to find a guy who doesn't treat me like a throw away for 8 months, back to trying to show the world (this time via something visual) that having sex and having fun and making mistakes and getting hurt and falling love with all the wrong guys... it's part of it. And I'm hoping my new buddy Mike can help me do that somehow. And if he can't, maybe someone else can. But I will promise you this. The way I'm feeling right now, baseballer is the last guy I will let make me feel like I have to give up parts of myself, change my life, my outlooks, the things I believe in, just for him to be with him. And that includes the blog and the attempt to make it into something I really believe it could be.
Alright, this ramble is way long enough, I'm gonna go catch up with my mom because I'm a 26 year old with the needs of a 5 year old, watch 500 Days of Summer, remind myself for the 800th time that after JGL gets dumped by Zooey DeChanel and she gets married, he ends up with Minka Kelly, so here's to hoping baseballer marries this new girl and I end up with the male Minka Kelly.
Oh, and for good measure, here's my friend Mike's trailer for his new film. Seriously, check it out, you'll totally fall in love. He wrote it, I believe directed it and stars in it. Is he not so freaking adorable?
This Thing with Sarah