What a better way to start a blog all about me than by bragging all about me?
Here’s my alibi for the past year….. think of this as a reference, a foreword, something to just update you as to where I am right now. This is an atypical post: it’s a lot of who, what, where, when, and visual aids (what’s typical you ask? Eh… we’ll find out together). I’m gonna touch on some thangs I’ll probs get to later but not go into depth cause I’m mysterious and that’s sexy.
(It’s is broken up into 3 parts. If you’ve only got a minute, at least take a gander at Part 3 for an oh-so-emotional wrap up.)
PART 1: COLLEGE, SENIOR YEAR
A tale of
(Freshman year) ———————-> (Senior Year)
2015 started out as the year of Frankenarm. Long pain-in-the-hoohah story short, I fell on my stove one night in an attempt to concoct the college delicacy breakfast-for-dinner. No, I was not drunk, but yes super duper wish I was. One skin graft surgery, unprecedented amounts of anxiety, overcoming a minor narcotics addiction, and two laser surgeries later, and I’m entering 2016 finally in full recovery. Here’s some pics of the evolution of Frankenarm so we can start off on a nice n’ graphic foot.
Thanks a lot Dr. Evil for the false expectations of both sharks and laser beams…
BTW: this is not the bragging part yet, this is the I’m a dumbass and accidents happen? part. Funny thing is -not afraid of stoves, just irons (I’m not as familiar with their tricks illusions).
I made a TV show (this is the bragging part). Well I kind of made a TV show. My Co-Senior Honors Thesis was a sitcom pilot called Co-Education (think Gossip Girl meets some poor kids). That’s right – totes got a fancy title for making dick jokes in a church with my best friend.
Frankenarm stalled the completion of production. Here’s some hospital producing via phone:
Blob on left = Arm
I wiggled back into my acting shoes. It was uber cathartic and I pretty much used it as therapy, even though I should not have cause that’s a big acting no-no. BUT ANYWAYS, I had the honor of playing two wonderfully complex female characters this year: Stevie, from Edward Albee’s The Goat or Who is Sylvia and Helena from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I’ve got the hots for both these ladies. They’re everything and more, and they both let me yell at boyz:
Yes, that’s the same actor in both pics – he made a brilliant work wife.
I also had the pleasure of fulfilling a dream that never existed, which was playing Justin Bieber/that guy from high school musical/generic slightly-racist character hybrid in 24hour theater.
Then I graduated from the University of Michigan with my two best friends/roommates/life lines.
Graduation Butt Stuff Graduation Cat Stuff
And I had to leave Ann Arbor, MI because growing up requires you to say a lot of sad goodbyes and a lot of forced hellos.
PART 2: POST-COLLEGE/ADULTHOOD?
A journey to responsibility
A wonderful producer took a chance on me, and hired me as an assistant for a three month gig on this TV show in the fabulous LA land of Hollywood. I got my first taste of the big
apple time, and I discovered firsthand that Hollywood isn’t necessarily filled with meanies, shady dinguses, and pervy goobs.
After those shenanigans I returned to Meechigan for my sister’s wedding… and to reassess my life.
My state’s advertising >/= your state’s advertising
She got hitched to this stellar gent.
I’m definitely creeping in a pew in this pic
Afterwards, I went back to LA on another job hunt. When I wasn’t focused on interviewing, my anxiety attempted to consume my very being and convince me I should just buy a plane ticket back to the Mitten and make a nice anxiety-proof cave in my parent’s basement and work a safe, crappy sales job and be comfortably dull – not to say there is anything wrong with that, but Anna’s gotta be wild and free to keep em’ happiest.
So I held my breath and stayed.
It’s a good thing I did because I ended up getting a job in TV development at Superjacket Productions, which has been more than I could ever ask for.
My co-worker and I depicted in a symbiotic relationship as a Pistol Shrimp and Goby Fish
So I moved here.
which was basically
But I looked up and realized it could be
After months of couch living thanks to some very generous friends
Insert Anna here ^
I finally moved into a place of my own-ish with my amazing manfriend.
and began that air mattress #lyfe
gender blanket color coordinating cause we’re conformists
A little magic fairy pill (which for me happened to be Prozac) changed my life. Say Hi Prozac! He said hello – you just couldn’t hear him because he’s made out of a bunch of pill stuff and cannot talk because that would be crazy (and amazing because I’d love to hear what Prozac had to say). When I planned on writing this, friends and family were very much “Protect your privacy! Don’t talk about your medication!” but nobody, seriously NOBODY should ever be ashamed of medication that makes them a happier, more productive, more YOU of a person.
PART 3: NEW YEARS MELTDOWN
On New Years Eve, after I smooched my fake (I’ll explain) boyfriend/puppet-monkey (we’re super disgusting, get ready for that). I promptly started sobbing, thus terrifying him, but I assured him that I was just being a gigantor, scared, anxiety-ridden, nostalgic spazosaurus.
My head was shouting I’M NOT READY FOR THIS! I’M NOT READY FOR THIS!! GO BACK TO 2015!!! Every time I started to calm down, I would check the shitty dryer that was my brain to see if my emotional clothes were dry, just to find out they were NOT and no matter how many calm-down quarters I put in my head, it felt like my feelings always came out damp. And even though he’s got a way of knowing when and how to help me line-dry those feelings, I needed reinforcement.
I had just conquered that bird-out-of-nest fall. Now I have to deal with my maybe-they’ll-work wings, protecting myself from the elements for the first time, and the fact that my Mom won’t be there to baby bird feed me delicious bird-vomit stew? Can I just make my way back up to the tree for a hot sec?
I honestly didn’t know, so I called my Ma (pronounced “Maaaah” and v whiney) to ask. She had that welp, Anna’s drunk tone in her voice (which I totally wasn’t because I’m a heavy weight when it comes to champagne and I realize this sounds defensive, but it’s not, but maybe a little), and she brushed off my concerns, which is exactly what I needed at that moment. Her tired, end of the night manner reminded me that this was just another moment, just another night. My Mom has a way of sucking drama out of things that I will always be grateful for.
Ma, my emotional witch doctor
So that’s some stuff. That’s kind of where I am.
Puppy Aunt Status
Goals for 2016? Well, YEAH, but don’t rush me okay? It’s only January. I don’t want to commit to the New Year so soon. I don’t want it to get the wrong idea.