The last year, I learned what I would consider to be a lot more important than people think. Holding hands isn’t just for couples at all.

When my very best friend in the world, Heather, came to visit in July last year, my beloved cat, Buttercup, had to be put down. She was with us when we had to rush him to the emergency vet. She stayed by my side for hours while we sat there wondering what would be happening to my cat. But before that, we had the 40 minute drive to make. It was torture. Would he even sustain life long enough to make it to the vet? I just remember watching his chest rise and fall and being so terrified and nervous. I had my hand on his carrier and Heather reached and grabbed mine. She held my hand most of that night. She hugged me, she gave me calming words and I can’t begin to describe the feeling of someone holding your hand to comfort you. It’s about a million times better than anything but being held by a boy you’re in love with, as experience has shown me.

The list of people that have held my hand is short. But today, two more were added to that list.

As I’ve mentioned, I was doing an absolutely amazing show called Tartuffe. I love Tartuffe so much and it is definitely the best show I have ever done. I can’t even tell you what our weak link was. We didn’t have one. We were a strong ensemble, strong individually, strong artistically, strong in every way, and friendship was the key to all of that.

Today was our final performance and I had been thinking and thinking about how I would react to everyone leaving and what I would say to each person. I kept thinking, “It’ll be fine! You’ll still see everyone around campus.”

Our beloved and amazing director gave us a speech before warm ups, as did the guy who portrayed my character’s father, Orgon. During those two speeches, I became very emotional. So much so that I put my hand on the girl who played my step-mother, Elmire’s, leg. The women in this cast became a family. Elmire had become a best friend to me and a mother figure in a way. She put her hand down and silently comforted me while tears fell. Eventually, I grabbed the hand of the girl that played my grandmother, Madame, and I noticed that all of the girls were holding hands in the front row together. It made us stronger and able to do the show with the comedy and intensity we’ve delivered this whole run.

But it did have to come to a close. We tore the set down, ate dinner together, talked, bonded and people trickled out. My closest friends remained, but I broke down when one of those friends had to leave with her husband. She and I had bonded the most from the start. She played the character Dorine, a character I react the most with in the show, and she and I were always there supporting each other and attacking each other with love. She’s got the most beautiful heart.

She needed to leave so she went around saying goodbyes. I was the first one and, when she hugged me, the last thing I wanted to do was let go. I wanted to hold on. I didn’t want to lose her presence in my life. I sobbed. I totally sobbed. Before I knew it, I found myself being tightly hugged by Elmire. She is such a wonderful soul, and an old soul. She was saying things like, “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’ll still have me around in the next show. It’ll be fine, honey.” She spoke like I know my mother would have, had she been there.

Thankfully, the guy who played my love interest, Valere, who is also a dear friend of mine for many years took it upon himself to make me laugh. I was being tossed around in the air like an ice skater.

There’s a certain power to holding hands. You don’t have to date someone to hold their hand. You do have to care for them. It’s truly amazing as to how much a simple motion like that can help a person.

Thank you for holding my hand and being there for me, those that have. Thank you.

I never really noticed this until today, but, up until right now, I haven’t gone out and made new friends in quite a few years. I am incredibly socially awkward in a lot of cases. I’m not the typical 19-year-old. I’m far from a typical college student.

I’m fairly against underage drinking. I’m not a fan of going out and getting high all the time. I will never pick up a cigarette and I worry about those that do. Granted, I would never EVER judge someone that does do those, as long as they are being careful and safe. I don’t understand people that go out drinking all the time. I don’t understand people that feel the need to go out all night dancing at a club popping pills and drinking. Some readers may be thinking, “Do you even know someone that does any of this?” I do. My ex boyfriend was absolutely that type of person. If he had been able, I know he would have done everything I mentioned. I know many, many others that do currently do all of that.

I get uncomfortable when people are drinking around me. The last year, I went back to my old self. I went back to being innocent, proudly, and damn fucking proud of the good person I am. When I was with my ex, I drastically changed. He opened me up, but not by my own choice. I realize that now.

But in the process of all of this, I realized how damn hard it is to make friends. I don’t take classes at my actual school if I can help it. I stay away from places where people my age hang out. I do theatre because, more than often, people are smart and dedicated to what they do. I do know theatre people that go drinking, but I tend to avoid them. They are the people that make me really fucking shy and nervous.

In the last week, I made three really amazing friends. Over anything, they are just absolutely amazing people. They’re really smart. They’re really funny. They’re really kind. More than anything, they’re loving and supportive. It makes me happy to have them around. Actually, no, it makes me PROUD to call them my friends.

It’s hard. It’s really hard to make friends.

Overall, it’s crazy hard for me to open myself to new friends. I’ve never had the friends that were like, “Hey, wanna go to Subway with us?” Or, “Hey, come sit by me!” I’m always the one trying to do that. And I’m the one that’s always looked at like, “Nah, I’d rather chill here. I’m good.” These three people are so positive. They’re happy. And one of them is Jewish. This is worth mentioning because I’m looking to converting to Judaism and she’s been more than helpful to me. I really adore her more than anyone around the theatre.

She’s the one that invited me to go to lunch on our break at rehearsal for subUrbia today. Then, after, she and her other friend, who’s my mutual friend, invited me to go out again after. She’s always looking out for me, helping me, making me smile and making me feel so loved. The thing that made me most happy was when she gave me a nickname.

At improv last week, she and our mutual friend gave each other nicknames and she was “Lisa, the other girl’s lesbian bitch.” Mutual friend didn’t have a nickname, though she was the head bitch, and, today, my Jewish friend gave us both nicknames. I’m Velma and other girl is Brooke. XD It makes me smile, in all honesty. It was fun, funny and made us closer. We’re kind of a trio at rehearsal now. If anything, she and I are definitely a duo. We call each other, “New Best Friend.”

Gah. It’s just weird to have attention from someone. I feel like a wonderful person, thanks to her.

This past week I auditioned and received a very serious role: the role of a girl that is a recovering alcoholic and is now addicted to pain pills. She’s only about 20 years old, 23 at the oldest, and I’m relatively frightened.

I know so many people who have had that type of situation and others who have other similar problems and, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from them, it is how genuine I need to make this.

I will be heavily judged by those that attend. I will have those that I know that had problems similar to this on my shoulder and I’m nervous.

I’ve never been addicted to anything. I’ve never required something to survive and yes, I have been depressed enough to want to die, but emulating that on stage just seems so hard. It’s something very private to a lot of people and my only hope is that I don’t offend anyone.

What I have done is to make myself as authentic as I can. I’m delving as far deep into my mind as I can and am watching documentaries on substance abuse, those addicted to substances, everything I can think of to help aide my performance. I want to do my best to represent the type of person I am performing as and, hopefully, I can do it justice.

I am very thankful for this role, though. It’s going to be such a challenge and I love a good challenge.

When I was younger, I was ridiculously shy. Granted, I’m still fairly shy, but I was so shy that hardly anyone I knew even knew who I actually was.

I quickly grew up with this habit of picking up whatever my friend’s loved and running with it, even if I didn’t like it. I wanted to please them and I wanted them to like me.

I wanted to be cool.

I grew older and continued to hide who I was from my friends. My best friend from elementary school through half of middle school didn’t even know who I was. She had no clue that I was madly in love with playing Barbies. I loved that with all my heart and soul. The only friend that knew me for who I was was another girl that was shy like me. I think we connected because of that.

Looking back, the only person I ever had imaginary tea parties with, aside from my brother and parents, was her. She was a wonderful girl, and was the my only real friend for quite a few years.

In late middle school, I became friends with this one girl, and I immediately changed for her. I wanted to be her friend. She was crazy smart–well liked. I wasn’t. I did everything she did. I dressed like her. I wore my hair like her. I did everything I could to be her friend, and she went to high school.

I had her in the back of my mind that next year without her and, as soon as I went to high school, I gravitated to her and to my old habit. I had friends that knew me for who I was at this point, but I still felt that I needed to be her friend to be cool. I had to change. I couldn’t be myself; that wasn’t good enough.

Pretty recently, that girl left my life, seemingly, forever. She still tries to pop in from time to time. I think she thinks she can still control me. But what she doesn’t know is that she’s the only person that I have tried to change for since middle school. In 8th grade (my last year of middle school), I became best friends with the girls I’m close friends with now. They love me for who I am–flaws and all! (And I’m quite flawed.)

I’ve grown to see that changing only made me depressed and frustrated. When I go to rehearsal for Tartuffe (my current show), I know they all know me as me and I get to let loose. This past month, I’ve had little time to escape the confines of my house, work and school, which are places I don’t get to let loose. Down time at rehearsal was my chance to take a deep breath and relax.

The last rehearsal, I entered the one hallway in my practice petticoats, character shoes (dancing heels, basically) with a cookie halfway in my mouth and plopped on the ground in front of my fellow cast mates like a little kid, and they love me for that. They love that I’m myself. I love to be “small” and “childlike.” I’m still a very mature individual, but I like being like a kid. I look so young and I feel so young, that it has always suited me, and it’s what I love doing.

Being cool isn’t being what others want you to be. Being cool is always being yourself.

I get asked a lot what my job is. Where it is. Random questions about it. And I never really know how to respond because my job is so complicated! I usually end up saying, “I work for a small business owned by my mother’s friend that makes wooden dollhouses. I’m kind of her assistant.” Yea, that’s true. And luckily for me, they rarely ask questions after that. haha

But I’ve been wanting to explain my job a bit thoroughly, at least to my internet friends. After all, to be honest, you guys know more about me than most of my offline friends. I’m just too shy to tell most about me.

I suppose we’ll start from the beginning!

My mother and my boss (and I, actually) were members of a miniature club, or a group of middle aged and old ladies that make dollhouses and items for inside a dollhouse. It’s quite fun, actually. I made everything back then from chairs and tables to bedroom mirrors and television sets. Mother and I have always been crafty.

I met my boss there, Boss Lady we’ll call her, and we hit it off. She and I were both goofballs and all was well. At some point, she left the club and bought a business that was closing that made all of these wonderful things, only made them like a billion times nicer.

A few years later, I was needing a job so my mother made a call to Boss Lady who was happy to have me help her work. I started off working two days, five hours each, and I shingled dollhouses. I mean, like, massive dollhouses. Think Barbie Dream Home’s big sister. Insane! haha It literally took me a month to do one house.

My boss let me bring my iPod and lunch and let me listen to music and such while getting the shingles laid. After a while, I learned how to make stair railings, doors, windows and even how to paint tiny little bricks. I love my job!

It’s funny because I used to need her to teach me something every day, basically. I was learning something new, but now, I go in, look around at where I left off on a previous project (a lot of times, I start something, stop halfway through and do something else for an order needed sooner), tell Boss Lady what I want to do and I just do it.

I’ve also upgraded my tunes to movies and TV shows that I have on my iPod. I clip Hagrid to an old coffee can that my glue sits in and watch while I work. haha Pretty sweet set up, right?

That’s what I do. And I love it.

Now, Boss Lady brought her elderly cat to live there, as her husband doesn’t want it around, so that makes things fun. Every once in a while, she brings her dog, who is freaking adorable, and some times I get to simply cut up old cardboard boxes all day. It’s definitely a great job.

I mean, heck, I get to pick my work schedule and change it whenever I want. She writes down the hours I work, and pays me when she remembers her check book. It’s awesome.

The best part? I get a bonus every once in a while for really working hard on a house. It makes me laugh because I’m such a workoholic that I don’t even notice how much work I’ve done at times.

And now, I’m off to relax for a bit. I have rehearsal tonight for a musical revue that opens next Friday. Yay?

Until later, lovelies!