2014 | A Year in Review

It's that wonderful time again! My year in review via pictures from the Queen B of documentation.

I absolutely adore this time of the year when I get to reminisce and look back at the year and relive all the good moments. I'm no amnesia-sporting Pollyanna, though. I'm the first to admit there were some utterly stank moments that I'd much like to forget, but it also had some great times that made me laugh out loud...made my heart swell up a whole bunch, too. For the luv of kiwi! I got knocked up for goodness' sake!!!

The song this year proved quite tricky. I haven't really heard of any new bands that were tickling my fancy enough to become the soundtrack to my version of It's a Wonderful Life. (So if you have anything that's inspired you this year, share! No one likes a stingy music grubber.)  I ended up having to go back...back into time for this year's music selection. Being that the beloved Joe Cocker passed the week I started this project it felt right ending on one of my favorites sung by him. After all, I really did make it through this year with a little help from my friends. The advice and support have kept me going for sure. So much so that this is THE longest year in review I've ever done. I just couldn't cut anything out. One symptom of my pregnancy is an insatiable appetite for nostalgia. I apologize in advance.

I've heard from lots of friends that 2014 was a particularly hard year. Hopefully this little gem brings some love and light so that none of us have to end on a sour note.

Thanks to all those who made 2014 memorable!

Groucho Marx Dreams


"I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member." ~ Grouchy Marx

Funny man he was. Early this morning Mark woke up (I was awake already from the incessant pee trips I had to make to the bathroom.) and told me in a dazed and confused stupor that he had been dreaming about Ziggy and how she didn't want to be in the Asian club or the Hawaiian club. Then he promptly fell back to sleep; snoring gently while I laughed myself into another pee trip.

Apparently he still remembers the dream and said she was stressed out because she couldn't find a club she fit into. Classic multi-racial predicament. Fortunately for her, she will have a mommy who has been there and can help her deal with the "What are you?!" comments and the proverbial racial boxes people try to throw at her. We've got this, Universe. Now I know part of the reason she chose us to be her parents.

The realization couldn't come at a sweeter time. I wouldn't say we're paupers; w're not strapped for cash, but preparing for a baby is expensive and can be a bit overwhelming...especially when you live thousands of miles away from family. It was that overwhelming sensation that led me to comment on a mommy blogger post for a dream nursery contest. I really didn't think anything of it. There were hundreds of entries, but then they emailed and said Mark and I were finalists so we submitted our story and poof! We had a crazy amount of wonderful people rallying behind us voting their brains out over a weekend stretch for us to win.

Unfortunately there was some super shady business afoot. There was some highly obvious vote tampering happening and the contest folks decided to turn a blind eye... even getting a bit snarky about me bringing the malarkey to their attention. It disheartened me for sure. I felt bad for all the folks who had tried to help us win..the hours they put in. We'll still have a nursery no matter what so the actual prizes didn't mean much ...it was a matter of principle. Something that special shouldn't have required cheating... I felt so vulnerable and used almost. I hadn't shared my heart aches with getting pregnant with a lot of people. Very few knew of my fears of having cervical cancer and what that could mean for my future. I'm still disappointed in those contest people. I refuse to ever do another contest and I won't be supporting them (which is why you won't see a link here promoting their page.)

Monday was a hard day, nonetheless. The contest results and baby bump pains definitely got to me. Then Tuesday I had a surge of energy from God knows where. I went and worked out and while on a treadmill; doing a mean 3.5 walking pace I realized I'm blessed. I'm blessed this little lady chose me to be her mama. I'm blessed that my husband and I have good jobs and family and friends who care. It will be enough. I am enough. After Mark's hilarious dream I know that for sure even.

Dreams have a funny way of helping us see the day clearer...It's sort of beautiful, isn't it?

Our story for the contest:

Tish and Mark Arana and baby girl Ziggy Stardust coming in the spring 

Deep down I never really thought I’d be able to have a child. I was diagnosed with cervical cancer at a young age and even though my doctor said I was in the clear, I thought the worst when my husband and I started trying. I totally believe that our children choose us, though…that they come to us when their little spirits are ready to live in this world and so when I did see two lines appear I knew a miracle had happened and that some special little soul had chosen us. My pregnancy hasn't been golden, but it’s been magical. I've went from thinking it was impossible to believing in all the possibilities. Now begins the time when I yearn to do as much as I possibly can for her. We’re reading the books and taking the classes, watching the documentaries on child birth; doing everything in our power to create an inspiring and loving environment for her arrival. I’d love to continue that preparation with a perfect little calming nursery. That dream space would mean the world to my husband and I. We’re in LA alone. Both of our families live in other states so any and all help would be so greatly appreciated. I dream of a room that I rock her in; quiet and lovely that celebrates the love we have for her. The fact that the dream room nursery is gender neutral and grey (images that I’ve dreamed of since I first learned I was pregnant) is sort of kismet. We’re two very enthusiastic and appreciative parents looking to make our little miracles’ birth as welcoming as possible.

Her womb name: Ziggy Stardust…we didn't know the gender so we chose an androgynous name. The album mentions spiders which is our last name in Spanish so we knew it was sort of perfect for her. She totally acts like a Ziggy. She’s definitely our little rock star.

What Not To Say To A Pregnant Chick


In my last post I mentioned all the reasons why pregnancy isn't my favorite stage. I wrote briefly about my skin and how I look like a raging, hormonal 13 year old. My acne has acne. It's annoying and I'm vain as hell, but not enough to banish myself to a hermit's life and never go out in public. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do and it's Christmas shopping time.

I finally popped which means for the most part people can see that I'm knocked up and they smile (getting it that not every pregnant woman glows the good glow) and leave me be but this total ass clown at the mall today... OOO WEEE! Did I want to rage against that particular man.

I had been putting off buying maternity bras for the longest. I hate shopping. I hate shopping for maternity stuff even more, but the gals are growing so I took one for Team "No Longer an Iddy Biddy Girl" and headed to the mall. The women at Nordstrom were super nice and helpful. They cooed over Ziggy's womb name and laughed with me about my anti-pink stubborness. I left in good spirits; did a wee bit of Christmas shopping, grabbed a delightful ginger-infused juice from Jamba and was heading out of the mall when it happened...

This man working at a lotions and potions kiosk shoved some moisturizer in my face. I politely declined stating that I had to be careful about trying new products being that I was pregnant. (You'd be shocked to learn all the crap that's too toxic for babies to absorb through your skin!) He flippantly waved off my comment and said his products were totally safe for pregnancy (which didn't convince me at all) and then he dropped a stupidity bomb...

He looked right at me and said, "I even have some great products to help out all that bad acne you have on your face." He called it BAD. AND he grimaced when he was looking at it!

Quick side note: Everyone farts. It's a fact of life. What you may not know is pregnant women fart the most cruel, putrid smells known to Planet Earth. They're downright dirty and shocking. I obviously have no shame in my tooting game, but even I, fart obsesser, get a teeny bit self-conscious if I let one of those bad boys slip in mixed company.

Back to the story. I have never wanted to lash a preggo fart on a stranger so bad. Who says that?!  Note this oh clueless ones of the world: There are a plethora of rules out there about what not to say to a knocked up chick. Add this one to your list.

I'm feeling generous and helpful...

'Tis the season to prevent the sleasin' after all.

...Oh how I looooove being pregnant.

Me and all my pregnant acne glory. No filters. It's pregnancy. There's nothing I can do about it right now. But there is something you can do, folks. Don't comment on my skin! I have lethal gas activated and I'm not afraid to use it. 

And Then Pop! It All Changed


It has finally happened. She's popped out and made a belly for herself. 

Sorry readers, I have lagged. It's been awhile since my last confession. Latest: I'm not a fan of pregnancy. 

I swear it seems every woman I talk to who is knocked up is glowing and beaming with happiness, but the memo to soak in bliss never made it to my desk. (I knew it was a bad idea to start working from home full- time!)  Current list of why pregnancy isn't my favorite liminal stage:

  • I'm not a glower unless you count oily, acne-ridden skin. I swear it's like I've hit puberty three times over and the ish is just wrecking shop. You don't know what I would do for some harmful, toxic product that would eradicate every pimple and dark spot I've collected over the last couple of months.
  • I've developed all kinds of issues related to the butt and what comes out of the butt and what shouldn't come out of the butt. Use your imagination. 
  • I've never had weight in my midsection so I don't know how to handle the belly like a boss. I JUST popped and it's still tiny for a five month mama, but it's getting harder to bend over or sit like a normal human being. The bump reminds me on the daily that I no longer have control over my body. It belongs to her. Ziggy, Boss from the Belly. I'm making her cards.
  • I have no energy. Like none. I use to be THE crackhead of joy. I would bounce around and I was active every dang day of the week. Now going up the stairs in my home feels like I've just completed a marathon. I'd give myself a medal, but I don't have the energy to make it.
  • I had a weird ass hormonal moment that I hope never returns. Out of nowhere I started laughing uncontrollably... while Mark was trying to go to sleep. I felt terrible and tried to stop but couldn't which made me start sobbing uncontrollably out of panic. What the?!?! Where does that come from and why?! Stop it!
  • I'm getting super lazy when it comes to acting. Classes, auditions, waiting on avail to find out if I booked the darn thing...it's all weighing on me and I'm bummed that it's suddenly harder. The folks in my class don't get the fatigue I speak of. They also don't understand why I'd need to take off a couple weeks/months once the baby is born. (Who knows if I'll be back to myself and able to sit through four hour classes. Will I be able to breastfeed and therefore tied to Ziggy for however long?) These questions mean nada to folks...I guess I used to be one such clueless gal. The me today forgives the me of then.

Don't get it twisted, though...

All that said, I'm excited as can be to pop this little one out and have her in the world. I think this is why I've never heard mothers speak of pregnancy crap. It's like we're judged for saying it sucks sometimes. Now that I'm sharing symptoms I'm amazed at the amount of women who are stepping forward and sharing just how much they hated pregnancy, too. 

I would say more, but the kid is currently rolling like the homies...a hint that it's time to eat. It's also a reminder that even though this is uncomfortable, scary and weird it's temporary and results in a swell perk. Man, is this what they call growing up?!

The Most Beautiful...

Mark told me the other day that the most beautiful thing he'd ever witnessed was watching me grow a baby. I felt the most beautiful I had ever felt in my life at that moment. I'm not the most feminine of gals. Pink and dresses aren't my thug thizzle, but I definitely still have a strong female presence that goes beyond all the superficial.

The power women possess...the strength and the emotions...well, they're just sort of magical. When I feel beautiful in my skin it's like I'm sharing a moment with the Universe; humbling myself in front of The Big Guy Upstairs...accepting that the Universe's work isn't mine to judge...I'm thankful I have skin to feel good in.

I may rock men's clothes; delight in a pair of chucks and squirm at the sight of a pair of pumps, but I am so proud to be a woman right now.

I have to remind myself to thank Ziggy when she's old enough to understand. She made her mama feel like a woman. Not even Shania Twain or Beyoncé could do that!

Strong Women. Lots of Respect. Ellen and Anne You Rock.


I was watching my pretend wife  (That's Ellen folks...come on.) on the tele yesterday and was touched by Anne Hathaway's confession about cyber bullying. Two very strong and lovely women just sitting in chairs talking their truths. I LIVE for those moments.

It really resonated. I thought I'd share if you needed some wholesome woman power on this fine Friday.

Happy Friday, Folks. 

Da Bump (Chicago Style)


Please tell me you said the title of this post with the correct accent. If you didn't do this then we need to talk.

I know I said I'd write more and by golly I have been a writing fool when it comes to my journal, but alas I still don't have much to report on in regards to the super public stuff other than I lack da bump.

I'm now four months in (still sick as a seasick crocodile..which is green so I'm obviously maintaining some delight.) with a little growth above my belly button that I call a bump. Everyone else scoffs at it and says I look like someone who's just eaten a cheeseburger. I can hide it no longer. I am actually having a food baby.

The weird thing is I feel like I'm so knocked up I should be waddling. Sleeping is uncomfortable. Clothes are uncomfortable. How can one little cheeseburger cause so much discomfort? It's the phantom belly phenomenon...

Yesterday I went for my four-month checkup and it was the first time we really heard Ziggy's heartbeat for a long period of time. The last time we went in I had too much poop blocking the sound. (You didn't think you'd read through my entire pregnancy without hearing about poop, right?! You did! Ha! You silly mortal...)  This time I successfully cleared a path and there in that glorious room we heard the little swishing sounds and I melted. Healthy baby whose heart beats like a pro!

She's not even small for her stage or anything... I like to think I'm just a spacious caravan for a fetus' delight; lots of room in that torso area for stretching out like a G. So now I've stopped worrying my morning sickness is starving her to death. Home girl is doing good. I'm doing as well as a weird chick with phantom belly issues could be doing. It's all good.

Have I changed? Yeah probably. I'm going to auditions and reading child birthing techniques in the waiting area and I'm watching baby documentaries like it's nobody's business. Oh yeah, and I'm looking up other peoples' baby bumps to see if my cheeseburger is normal. Usually the internet is dangerous, but it's been helping me a lot. I wouldn't have been able to share the below picture of Octomom without such late night stalkings. 

Actual bump

What I feel like my bump is...

My Ankh Tattoo

Without fail this happens...

I'll be in an elevator. (My hair is up so my tattoo is showing.) Someone walks in and stands behind me. I feel the eyeballs burrow into my neck and then the question comes...

"Um, so what's your tattoo? Is that a cross?" (uncomfortable laughter)

"It's an ankh. It's an Egyptian hieroglyph that means eternal life."

They usually will nod their heads and say they thought that's what it meant and go back to silence... while I secretly giggle because I know a lot are simply relieved I'm not rocking some sort of devil worshipper sign.

Nope...not praying to the Dark One. When I was in 6th grade I got really into Egyptian history and the idea of the ankh. I vowed some day I would get a tattoo of the symbol and then put my children's names near it; my take on eternal life. (Heavy stuff for a 6th grader, I know.)

So yeah, I got the tattoo years ago and now that I'm pregnant I'm reminded of that little 6th grader with all the philosophical plans for her and her children.
I've experienced losing a parent at an early age so I've always done morbidly sweet things so that any future children would know their mother just in cases.

I've kept a journal since 1st grade. It started out as a place where I'd rant about homework and unibrow interventions but later morphed into words for my children to read. It felt good knowing there would be a record of who I was... a record of my truths...pages that would carry my spirit. Sadly, my father left nothing. I have a handful of stories from family and that's it. Having so little of him has always bothered me. What I wouldn't give for some of that man's writings! A home video...SOMETHING!

It's why I've always related to people's need to mark where they've been. Some folks graffiti. I wrote. But then I stopped blogging simply because I ran out of things I felt like sharing publically.

For today at least my need to write is back. I was watching one of Oprah's Where Are They Nows and it featured a follow-up on one of my favorite Oprah moments of all time. There was this father/husband who created a youtube love letter to his wife for her birthday. That video and that man's story drove me to download Train's Mary Me and weep like a mad woman every time it came on. I've always wondered about the family and how they were. Then today I found out he had sadly past away. His wife and their two sons updated Oprah on their lives and while they're doing well I couldn't help but weep for the little boys who lost their daddy.

Kris wrote a blog for his sons...love letters of remembrance for them in later years and it totally inspired me to come back to my computer and try again. We always write for a particular audience. We always have someone in mind. I've got my daughter and a husband who I thank God for on the daily. So consider this my jump back into the water...for them...for posterity.

Picking the pen back up...

Little Sheroes: Potty-mouthed Princesses Rule

Have you seen the potty-mouthed princesses yet? It's no secret among my friends and family that I'm super down with raising a strong, confident and intelligent little girl. (Oh, we're having a little girl bee tee dubs.)

Being that I'm scouring the interwebs for tiny feminism tees and hoodies you can imagine how much my butt twitches when some well-meaning spirit comes along and refers to my Ziggy as a little princess. Stop! Stop right there! PLEASE don't call her that! And PLEASE don't shove unnecessary image issues down her throat...she's just learning how to suckle right now for gosh sakes....it's only week 15.

I was sooo happy to see the potty-mouthed princess video yesterday. It warmed my heart and gave me fresh hope. This is THE best thing in the world. May not be suitable for work or small little ears, but the best messages never are xo...

Great Expectations: Our Itsy Bitsy


Yep, we're expecting a little itsy bitsy April 2015!

Current thoughts: I'm a self-proclaimed tomboy...suddenly doing something uber girly. This ish is WEIRD! I've been super duper sick...like you can't imagine the hell that morning sickness truly is until you experience it. I swear I thought it was like a petite little puke in the morning and then I'd be fine...that I'd go about my day working and doing the stuff I see women doing while pregnant on tv. Wasn't my reality. Complete opposite, actually. How do women film movies in their first trimester?!!?! How do women work, period?!?! It's madness! Madness I say!

Speaking of movies and actors...I'm a wannabe actor with a huge dream...The first thing that shifted was my outlook on my dream. It's not that I've forgotten or want it any less, but I seriously had no problems pausing. I told my agent I needed to get through the morning sickness because auditions and headshot shoots were grueling. I didn't even cry typing her the email. It's weird how I've still managed to hold on to the essence of me and the person I want to be, yet still make room for a tiny. I was scared I'd be one of those self-absorbed mamas who blames her kids for her ruined dreams...or worse--a woman who forgets her dreams and takes on the title of motherhood like it's her new and only skin. Like I said...all kinds of thoughts happen; especially when all you do is lie on a couch willing the nausea away.

Life's gonna be so much more interesting with a little in the picture. Before I learned I was expecting I reached out to women I admire in the industry. The women were super kind and honest and positive. It was perfect timing...like I knew it would happen soon and I'd need to make sure my head was screwed on straight...that I was going in, eyes wide open. I can do this.

I'm feeling lucky I got Mark as a partner in crime. Dude's been super duper helpful. He is the family stone right now...making sure everything keeps moving since I ain't moving much at all.

...And if you were wondering about future writing...Pretty sure I'm not gonna be a mommy blogger. I'm not funny or girly enough to pull it off, but I can see myself checking in occasionally to write out all the feelings of being a mom and a dreamer.

Officially Scared Shitless,


Spagic I Say!



It's been awhile. I knew those spurts would come. I sit at least once a day and seriously shake my head. I wrote for years...so many posts; sometimes three posts a day and then Poof!, nada. I still don't know what happened. The art of sharing just ceased to thrill me like it used to. I always say if something absolutely wonderful happens I'll pick back up the pen (figuratively speaking) and share some goodness, but inspiration isn't what it used to be.

I was thumbing through drafts I never published and found these notes. Now THIS I knew I could share. No editing because I have no clue what I was going to do with these notes. Just bits from my wedding...which tickles me rotten. It's almost a year; but it feels like it was eons ago. I love remembering and reliving it all. Soon Mark and I will return to celebrate; part 1 of our first year anniversary. Everything about that day was magic. I'm hoping we'll show up and all our friends and family will be there to surprise us and share in the fun times again...

 "If you're fond of sand dunes and salty air...quaint little villages here and there..." 
 "At the River" , Groove Armada

First Dance = Pure Imagination (From Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory, but sung by The Cast of Glee.)

Quote on our CDs = "We are the makers of music. We are the dreamer of dreams." (A Willy Wonka quote.)

9.13.13 = Our wedding date and the official day fans celebrate Roald Dahl (Author of Willy Wonka, Matilda, James and the Giant Peach and other books I loved and adored as a child.)

I've always wanted the song, Pure Imagination. I kept it a secret for years so that people wouldn't jack my ish. Best song ever to slow dance to...I know this from personal, blissful experience.

Coincidences? Yes, crazily enough! It was just meant to be that Roald would be our theme for the Mish bash. Not sure if the guests caught onto that...You'd have to be a big super duper fan, but it was a fun little fact for Mark and I when we put all the pieces together. Thank you AMC channel for airing movies with directors' quotes; without which we would have never learned about Roald Dahl Day.

It didn't stop at the wedding, though. We found the Willy Wonka quote on a tree while on our Honeymoon in Maui. Spagic...when spooky and magic make a baby.

23 Thousand Breaths

I was watching Long Island Medium (guilty pleasure) and a discussion about someone's last breath came up. I took to Google; curious to find out how many breaths we take in a day...in a year...in a lifetime. I'm morbidly inquisitive. Mark didn't even flinch when I told him how many breaths we take a day...he's used to randomly delicious "Rain Man" Tishy.

Apparently we take around 23,000 breaths a day. (More if you workout...so I'll add a thousand extra since I breath like an out-of-shape fool no matter what I do.)

All those breaths wrapped up in beautiful adventures. I'm thankful for all those breaths and all the memories with the friends.

A beautiful day to visit a country music exhibit.

Iconic photography

The heifa avoids the camera like a Kardashian avoids anonymity. 

I don't always see sheep, but when I do I think of best pal, Jenn. 

I heart country music. Well some...not all. The good old stuff. 

Think this might be Mark's first creeper, candid shot of me. I swooned. 

The Other Side

I recently heard the phrase, "On the other side of heartache is wisdom," which resonated and continues to bubble around in my brain.

It soothes me a bit...and also makes me laugh a little under my breath at the Universe's sense of humor. I've often asked for wisdom; not really cognizant of the price one pays for the stuff. Nothing like a good dramatic moment to cement a good lesson in your brain. Nonetheless it's comforting to know that at the least there's a consolation prize.

I sat at a light today staring at this elegant, elderly woman at the bus stop. In her youth I wouldn't have given her much thought, but because of her age I sat in awe... "Oh the stories she could tell...the history behind those eyes." I love a good brain filled with wrinkled experiences.

This week I've added some wrinkles. Mixed blessings I tell ya...

I've been on avail for five days. Five.Whole.Days. I've learned what it really means to be on avail. I've learned what staring at a phone can do to a person. I've learned not to pick up every foreign call that pops up on your caller ID...your agent will make the call, fool!

On the other side of heartache lies wisdom.

*New Tunes

*New for me anywho.

I recently caught up with an old friend who used to shower me with new tunes on the regular. We caught up for a bit and then got down to business. I've been on Sia's arse lately. Love her and her little dog, too! Sam Smith, Lana Del Rey and the Begin Again Soundtrack. So I shared that and he came back with The Lighthouse and the Whaler and Matt Pond. It was a good trade. I go through long bouts of listening to talk radio and then I come up for air and crave the good stuff. This is the good stuff.

The songs I'm diggin on the most:

Nine Years: Getting Closer

Today, nine years ago I set out from Middle Earth and made my way to LA. Weirdness.


Those they people who you hear so much about always say that it takes ten years in this business to become an overnight success. The thought that I'm now a year away from that magical year has not gone unnoticed.

I shot a commercial...I'm on avail for another (meaning I've been waiting around with my fingers crossed for days...walking hurts at this point.) Stuff is happening in little tiny arse steps, but it's happening.

IF I'm still here this weekend (and not on set) then I'm going to try out a new acting class and catch a workshop. It's all incredibly terrifying but I have this nagging sense that I need to keep moving ahead; scary or not. I still feel like I have no idea what I'm doing in this world. I still question if I have what it takes. I still feel like I bomb more auditions than I rock them. I think that's why nine years feels so weird...because I'm not this wise, awesome expert at this point. I still feel green as hell. For now I'm accepting that as a good thing. "Keeps me humble..."

Nine years... where did the time go?

Time Flies...

One Year
Five Years
Seven Years
Eight Years

Ready Steady Go

It's happening...

Auditions are coming in; flowing like I finally hit the fire hydrant hard enough...my days are exploding with scripts to memorize, places to get to in 30 minutes...it's nerve wrecking, vomit-inducing, stress and I love EVERY.MOMENT.

I'm really trying to remain present. I'm really trying to savor every moment and just squeeze love into every second of every minute and thank God for the now, but like in true Tishy fashion, I jump ahead and wonder if this will continue. I get scared that I get these surges and then it'll go away again. That maybe this isn't the beginning of the good stuff. Then I smack myself and get back to loving it NOW. I'm all about the NOW. Today's now was awesome. (See how I just can't remain present? Jeez Tish!) I rushed from audition to audition while hearing texts come in from my agent "New audition! New audition!" and then I'm memorizing new lines and figuring out this and that and if I can manage...and I start to hope that I'll book like crazy and then I want to cry I'm so happy and in it...in it like I always wanted to be.

Is this when it happens? When I start to lose hope? When I start to question the dream? Funny how life does that. Months ago I saw this woman and some famous actors in a park where Mark was teaching bootcamp. I stared for a bit and then got back to work helping the group, but I remember vividly how bad I wanted to be playing with that group...and then days later I was playing on facebook and found one of the girls who was filming in the park. I wrote her just to say it was spooky that I had just seen her...and she befriended me kindly and I've stalked her since then. I watched her give birth to a baby...work on a movie she had written...bake...I watched it all and then I started reading her blog and boom! I found this video she posted of Shonda Rhimes that made me pause and listen with the kind of intensity reserved for a good Game of Thrones wedding.

I share it with you. I thank Brandi for her blog and for the example she shares with the world. Good things are coming. Bunk winter.

Faith in Mustard

The hopeful tell me to keep the faith of a mustard seed and ish will be okay...

Some days are good. On those days I remember why I chose this particular path. I remember firmly why I want to be an actor and how it makes me feel and I'm comfortable enduring the bumps and bruises that come with that decision.

And then there are days like today when the passion God gave me for this dream is fuzzy and weak and the idea that some day I'll be on a real set making a real film about a character I believe in sounds preposterous. I'm trying to figure out how many people who have already made it would continue on if they had walked my path. Would they have kept going if it had been nine years (as it has been for me.)? Would they have given up? Would they had been neurotic enough to keep going?

My nine year anniversary is July 29th. I'll be taking new headshots that day. At least I'll be actively doing something actor-ish that day! This weekend I audition for a short film. I shoot a commercial next week. You'd think I'd be jumping over the moon...grateful for the little action I do see, but I'm old and grumpy today. I'm not sure these steps will make a lasting impact. Then I want to kick my own butt for playing in a future that I have no business playing in. Who knows what tomorrow will bring! Worrying about the future is just as bad as moping over the past.

AND through all of that we're trying to have a baby. Every time the test comes back negative a tiny part of me is okay because it means more time to get into acting...more time to walk through some imaginary door that I hope opens soon. I keep stumbling over all these stories of actors who had children and still did what they dreamed of...I watched Vanessa L. Williams' Master Class on the subject. She said she gave up Monsters Ball, a part that won Halle Berry and Oscar, to spend time with her children. You could see the calm resolve and joy in her eyes when she admitted that she was okay with the decision. Sometimes there are more important adventures... Made me feel better about trying, but still... SO.MANY.ADULT.EMOTIONS!!! So many mixed feelings make Tishy a very crazy and emotional chick.

Yesterday I ran into Suzanne Douglas, an actor who appeared in How Stella Got Her Groove Back. I approached her to tell her how much I had enjoyed her work and she was kind enough to keep having a conversation with Mark and I. She asked if I was an actor. I said yes, but man did that yes feel sad. She spoke so freely about how she'd soon start work on a project and I hung on every word wishing I could say the same. I have no idea where I stand so I can't even say so close yet so far. I'm out there blindly.

The faith of a mustard seed...

Inspired out of Hibernation


Begin Again, splitter, movie, the music

After you see Begin Again you'll understand the sweet significance of the above image. And then you'll sigh with contentment. 

It's been a long while since I've seen a movie that made me think there's a place for me in Hollywood. I watch the characters and I think to myself, "I could play that part." It's rare nowadays. Beyond my ego trying to wedge me into the goodness, it was just really damn good. It's been a long time since I've enjoyed a film as much as I delighted in this one.

The acting was on point. The writing was enchanting, real, honest and awesome...and PLEASE don't get me started on the music. OH THE MUSIC!!!

I love the little movies that could. This is definitely one of those simple, perfectly executed films that had my brain sparking and reaching out for a pen to capture all the thoughts going through my head. 

I swear there were certain members of the cast that I rolled my eyes at when I saw their names featured and there were characters who I loathed and detested only to fall in love with later. Basically no matter what preconceived notions you have of any one person (real or not) you're going to leave loving their asses. All of them! The good, the bad and the douchey. 

Now I need to go study some lines. I have to be in a film such as this one day and times a wastin! 

Sharing is Caring

I am experiencing the weirdest shift...I can't pinpoint the exact moment when writing and sharing started to unnerve me, but it has. I've been writing this blog for almost nine years now. During the really open years I could post multiple times a day, every day of the week. Now I'm lucky if I feel like sharing once a week.

I'm not sure if "you" are still out there...the you I've written to all of these years, but if you are then I wonder if you've noticed the decline. It's not that life has gotten rotten or that I've lost my ability to find joy in Life's everyday miracles. I just lost the need/want/desire to share. It's a profound shift, too. My need to blog was void of narcissism. It was actually a sincere desire to connect. I think it's a kind and very brave thing...sharing your thoughts, days, joys, mistakes and heart aches with others. The "you're not alone" moments were there to help people start conversations and open up. Except somewhere along the way I lost the connections part and the joy I got from the relationships I formed through writing fell to the side. I'm looking back at my years of blogging and I wonder if that whole is greater than the sum of its parts. What the hell does Luv and Kiwi mean to anyone? Can you believe this is my first time questioning blogging? I know; even I'm surprised.

It's odd that for so long I felt compelled to share...there was always something to write about; always something to describe... And beyond that: I was nosy and curious about others. My morning started out with 20 plus blogs that I had to read. Now I may browse some blogs every couple of weeks. It's odd that my interests have shifted.

I find myself turning inside out...I've become a special kind of recluse. I'm not scared, but boy is it weird. I can feel the changes. I can't explain them. I can't say what I'm transitioning into, but I know my spirit is altering. I've been a people person for such a long time...discovering that I'm not even all that interested in the stories of others...which for me, naturally leads to disinterest in my own stories...well it's a weird place to be in.

The old me is looking at this new me with a gaping, flabbergasted open mouth. "Who are you?!" Some day I'll stop being lazy and and answer that question. I have a strong inclination that the answer won't be published.

Who Runs the World?

This made me laugh and then sigh...Oh how I wish it were true.

Gone Fishin

I am officially MIA.

I shall be binging on Orange is the New Black if you need me. Luckily there are pause options so I shouldn't have yellow tv tinted 'tan' on Monday morning.

Last year I was watching this lovely madness around the time of my bachelorette party so I had all of my favorite women folk in one room watching, guffawing, gasping and laughing together. It was sort of the perfect storm. I shall be sentimental for a brief moment when I hit play, but I'm pretty sure the story lines will help ease the pains.

Happy watching fellow fans!

What Kills Me...

"What kills me makes me feel alive" ~ One Republic

Ain't that the truth when pursuing your dream?! I swear everything that has anything to do with change, growth..."getting it" requires mini panic attacks in my kingdom of neurotic.

I had a meeting with my agent this morning and I swear, you would have thought I was meeting my executioner the way I felt pre-chat fest. I had nervous waves sloshing around in my belly...I felt like I might possibly destroy my pants (too much info? do you know me at all?!) I cried TWICE on the drive there...couldn't sleep last night at all. You catch my drift? I was a hot mess. I feared I'd walk in; she'd stop me before I could even sit down and tell me that the agency no longer wanted to represent my unproductive behind and I'd be forced to throw my body into Hollywood traffic. Getting stomped on by fake Spidermen and Marilyn Monroes aren't my cup of tea.

Meeting went completely opposite of that.

She hugged me upon walking in; sat me down in her office (yeah!) and then proceeded to tell me I'm doing well; that my percentage of getting callbacks is awesome...I just have to work on bookings. She also told me what I needed to do in order to start going out for TV and film roles. Boom.

It's not easy and no one can be sure it will lead to work, but it's time to try everything. It's time to shake things up so hard that I'm centimeters away from crapping my pants and blowing mad chunks. It's time to feel alive; something I haven't felt in quite some time.

Luckily, I have a supportive partner in crime who's down for helping me do this thing. It's going to require time and money and lots of understanding. Geez, I feel lucky I married the dude I married! He has my back. Such a tiny sentence with profound, life-changing significance.

I have a lot of neurotic conversations with myself regarding acting. I'll get really jazzed about doing whatever it takes to make the dream happen and then my pride will kick in and I'll feel terrible that I have to do all of this 'extra' while other folks literally get discovered and thrown into films like it's the easiest scenario in the world. It's time to just focus on my own path. I'm not the overnight success. I've been at this for almost nine years (come July 29th) and the only thing that's changed is the number of grey hairs sprouting homes on my head. I'm still just as hungry if not more so it's time to focus.

I refuse to be a broken record. New tune time. I'm ready. I'm down.

One Thing At a Time

"One thing at a time with deep breaths between them."

...that's the advice my mom gave me today. I'm just having one of those really challenging big kid days. Being a responsible adult with dreams can be so taxing. I feel like I'm coming down with something...either that or the weight of all these stressful worries I carry around are becoming too tangible for my body to handle.

I'm stuck in a really weird land of limbo. I have a full time job, but I'm still clinging to my dream of being an actor....that means I'm trying to remain under the radar; trying to keep my head down; trying to do my work well, because I want to be able to leave the durn thing when acting comes calling...because hopefully it comes calling!

I spent the weekend up north in Sacramento with my play sister and was fortunate enough to spend time with her and her mother on Saturday afternoon. We sipped iced peach Arnold Palmers and talked shop about the world of acting. (Michele's mama is a thespian among many other wonderful things.)

Turns out her mama has lots of wonderful stories and a passion for seeing those stories in print...possibly on TV. She looked at me with mischievous eyes while coyishly telling Michele I'd be an excellent choice to play her. So...they're working on a treatment for a television show they plan to pitch. And it's a great story, ya'll!

Wouldn't that be something? I was touched...What an honor! What a dream!

That conversation is what kept me from crying today when work became too much to handle. I'm holding on to threads...but boy are they beautiful.

With A Heavy Heart We Say Farewell to Maya

When celebrities pass I'm saddened, but it doesn't shake my universe, ya know what I mean? When I learned this morning that Maya Angelou had passed, my heart sank and grief hit instantly. I wasn't fortunate enough to meet or speak to Ms. Angelou in person, but I was able to attend an engagement she had in Liberty, Missouri years ago.

Even then, as a raging, lost young soul I was moved by her presence. She radiated a calm magic...I wept hearing her words then just like I wept last week when I watched her on Oprah's Master Class. She had that effect on me.

Jenn was able to interview her once and after the conversation ended she called me to share all that she had learned. She was fighting for the right words to describe what it was like speaking to such a force. I told her it was like standing in front of the ocean.

I stand by that still...

I don't think I'm done with my tears. I don't think I'm ready to fully accept that she's gone. If reincarnation is true; then that woman had already experienced hundreds of lives. I sadly wonder if there will ever be another like her. The infinite wisdom spread far beyond that of a normal Earthling. Like I said before; she was magic and her soul will be missed.



Such a loaded word...or idea really. The idea of home sends me into topsy turvy spins today. Home is where my husband is most of the wonderful time, but then I have a chance to be with my family; specifically my mother and the idea of home grows complicated. I know I'm a big girl now and I'm married...doing adultish things and all, but I am a quintessential mama's girl through and through.

Mark and I journeyed to Middle Earth this past weekend to visit my family. My parents wanted to introduce Mark to the fam the Kansas City way (by throwing us a BBQ bash.) It was awesome in theory. My mom makes THE best brisket on the planet. I invited friends from my high school hometown; my parents invited the family who couldn't come to the wedding and BOOM we had a bash. Except so many things didn't go as planned on that trip. There were so many heartaches...so many stories that pulled me out of my mama's arms...there was even a trip to the hospital to visit an uncle who had been in a horrible wreck. It was necessary family call to actions, but it meant that I had only hours with my mom instead of days. When our time was up and it was time to hit the road I turned to Mark with panic and said, "I didn't get to get a picture with my mom!" And then the tears splooged out. All the emotions of the weekend...realizing I wasn't going to see my mom for a long time...well it was just too much.

Life's been hard. I've dealt with some crazy feminine energy guffaws that require my mom's wisdom...her kindness and her ability to heal any word wounds. I've needed that particular home. I've been craving it something fierce and as I sit in my own place; listening to my husband scurry about upstairs unpacking our things I cry a little bit more. I left home almost nine years ago and made a new one for myself, but there's still a little girl inside me that needs her mom.

My mom is the calm. She's light and joy...if you're lucky enough to receive her guidance at any point in your life you take it and you honor it. I know I had to move out to LA for acting. I knew I had to be here, but believe me when I say leaving her was damn hard. There's a lot of pressure I've created for myself. I frequently remind myself that I have to make that move worth it...that I have to make something of this distance and this dream of mine. It has to be worth it because being away from her is getting harder and harder.

I may have a meeting with a producer this week. I'm willing all the magic in the world to pool in my favor and make that happen. It's crazy logic, but I hope that moving away will someday result in me having the means to come home whenever I need to.

All that to say I've got two homes and I'm happiest when they're in the same time zone.

Friend of Your Mind



by Toni Morrison
“She is a friend of mind. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order. It's good, you know, when you got a woman who is a friend of your mind.”

Don't you just love those book passages that ooze into our spirits like molasses?...sticky and all encompassing; not a crevice or crack ignored. Toni Morrison's idea of a friend seeped into my cracks and warmed my spirit up with some kind of sweetness. 

I love the idea of a woman who is a friend of your mind...someone who understands your spirit...then learns your spirit and then honors your beloved spirit with honesty and kindness. I can get down with that definition. I'm currently reading two books right now: Mindy Kaling's, Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns) and an acting book that's supposed to help me learn how to manage myself. (sarcastic doubt) The two couldn't be any more different, but the one thing they do share are definitions of friendship. Everything my eyeballs rest upon today is about friendship. It's a bit spooky how persistent the universe is. She first whispers. If you don't listen then you get a couple of loud shouts. I try not to push her past that. Kaling layed out the rules of friendship which I adored and will now share with you.

The abridged list of Mindy-isms:

  • Clothes can be borrowed.
  • We sleep in the same bed. I loved this one because it's so true. "How else will we talk until we fall asleep?"
  • Be honest about how you look but be gentle.
  • I can ditch you, within reason. This one's a hard slap of reality but necessary. She ends with, "In return, I need to talk about you a lot with that guy so he knows how much I love you."
  • I will take care of your kid if you die. 
  • I will nurse you back to help.
  • I will keep products at my home for you for when you visit. She discusses pads and contact solution...I would add workout clothes, a shower sponge and wine to this list.
  • I will try to like your boyfriend five times. I got lucky. I actually adore my friends' mates, but that wasn't always the case so yeah...gotta stay on the list.
  • When I take a shower at your place I won't drop the towel on the floor. Some of these are eerily paralleling the movie Beaches, no?
  • If you're depressed, I will be there for you. "I will not abandon you." Not gonna lie. I teared up on that one.
  • I will hate and re-like people for you. ONLY true friends will get this lol...and do it wholeheartedly for you. 
  • No two people are better than us. She ends the chapter on this note. 

It was a cute and real list. Toni's is still the one that speaks to me the most, but I laughed the good laugh while reading Mindy's...which is a big fat duh being that she wrote for The Office. She's contractually required to make me laugh.

So yes, the Universe spoke and I listened. I continue to listen...

We Only Get What We Give

Never were there more true lyrics in a song.

Jen and I recently picked back up a tradition we had done for years; we begin each morning by listing three things we're grateful for. One of yesterday's gratitudes came in the form of an aha moment about jealousy. I had previously watched one of Mastin's Daily Love videos about jealousy. What it is and how you can turn it into something positive.

Light bulbs went off. Triumphant music blared and my world aligned. I have been harboring a lot of pain and suffering. The root of the pain: good ole jealousy. So using Mastin's logic I figured out what I was jealous of specifically and how I could get that on my own. It was a life changing moment. My soul released a heavy sigh of relief and something shifted. The aha moment.

The culprit? Why friendships of course...I was upset that people I no longer talk to had won my friendships in our divorces. I was so stuck on their friendships...but after the aha moment I took a hard look at why I was jealous. I wanted my friendships to be as solid and fulfilled. I wanted the joy and happiness that comes from my pals and mother effin DUH--I already have friendships...that bring me joy and happiness. I stopped at that moment and made a mental list of all the wonderful people who have blessed my life and made a note to start honoring and nurturing the folks who want to be around.

I'm usually a smart chick. It's a bit surprising (even for me) that it took this long to figure out.

My best gal pal, Jen made this abundantly easy to grasp and implement, by the way. Homegirl is ROCKING at her business right now. She's the CEO of Fit Bottomed Girls. Her and her awesome business partner, Erin, wrote a book that was published and released this month. It is SO unbelievably hard to get published AND to get that gift from Random House Publishing??! You have to be pretty damn awesome. It's mind boggling actually. Her successes are like a storybook come true: you work hard and your dreams come true.

So here's where she helped me practice....I looked at her recent successes. She's been on TV this week promoting the book. I took an honest look at all of the wonderful things going on in her life and I asked myself if I was jealous. It would have been a totally human thing for me to do...be jealous of her...but I wasn't and I'm not.

Realizing this made me smile. True friendship is about honoring and lifting up the ones you love. There's no place for jealousy in our relationship. My admiration takes up all the room! She's worked so hard for all of this. She knows her ish! She's worked hard for her ish! Watching her maneuver through this new world she's manifested for herself is perfectly lovely to see from the sidelines. She's got talents that are far from my grasps and dreams and this is totally something I accept and love about us.

Friendship checks are essential...to check in mentally from time to time and make sure you're in the relationship for the right reasons... Still proud of us and what we've built...why we're in it together...who we are and why we are. Powerful (sometimes scary) questions, but they keep things real.

So yeah. I'm just gonna keep honoring and appreciating the friendships I have and stick to my own lawn...tend to my own grass. I'm going to stop fighting the green-eyed monster and start looking at jealous feelings as calls of action. I've turned a page...THANK GOD. I seriously couldn't handle anymore of the crap I was stewing in.

My light has returned. I thank my friends for helping me find it.

Belle: A Q and A with Gugu Mbatha-Raw

I was fortunate enough to attend a special screening of the film, Belle over the weekend that included a Question and Answer with the star of the film, Gugu Mbatha-Raw. 

I've been in Los Angeles for almost nine years now and I still geek out every time I have the opportunity to partake in such things. We are given the opportunity to sit with directors, writers and actors often and you don't have to be in the entertainment business, either. Brilliant magic I tell ya...

So back to the film. Belle is the true story of a biracial aristocrat woman. I won't include any spoilers, because you really should see this film. I'll simply say I wept a lot while watching because it was the first time I had ever saw a biracial-based story on film. Don't get it twisted. I know there have been many biracial women actors, but we've never had stories created for us. I didn't even know we had history like this...that we existed in this aspect. We're the tragic mulatta. We're white. We're black. We're other (meaning we just kind of become raceless in the movie...our multi-ness is never discussed.) Our experience with being mixed and what that means is never discussed. 

Then this film comes along and shows us that we were more than tragic. We have a sister who was going through the same things we go through today. It was a crazy sensory overload. I immediately connected to Dido Belle and the actor who played her, Gugu. Like stalking, crazed mad connections. I want to be best friends with her. I want to play her sister in her next film. I want to be Gugu's pal. 

After the film ended the lights came up and it was time for questions. I was the first (and most eager) person to raise my hand. I didn't even think I'd have questions. I mean I joked beforehand that I would totally ask her how she got into the business because I could use some help. (For the record: never ask an actor this question in this type of forum.) But then a real question came and I was raising my hand and the bloke holding the mic was pointing to me. Yes, I mucked it up. I cried and choked a bit. Probably embarrassed the stuffings out of my gal pal and my husband, but what can ya do. I thanked Gugu for bringing Dido to us. I then told her how strongly I had connected to Dido's spirit and struggles. I asked her what pivotal moment or line had connected her to her character. I captured her answer on video. (Sorry for the blurriness. I almost forgot to hit play so be thankful there's audio at all!) 

...and my heart exploded open. 

Gugu Mbatha-Raw, biracial, mixed girls, film, Belle, Dido

Gugu Mbatha-Raw, belle, theater, film

The N Word in Hollywood: Are The Laughs Worth It?

Yesterday my husband and I went and watched The Neighbors. I had been geeking to see it for a couple of weeks. Seth Rogan makes me snort laugh. That movie was getting watched! (Passive writing totally warranted.) We got our awesome Neighbors-themed drinks and settled down to laugh and enjoy...and we did. We were laughing through the whole thing...until one of the actors impersonated Obama and ended his adorable bit with the N word.

The ENTIRE theater gasped. Yes, they gasped because it was totally out of left field. It made absolutely not a lick of sense, but it was fast and fleeting. Another joke came up. I twitched but figured it was a fluke and laughed along at the next joke. I was gonna let it slide.Then the dude said it AGAIN in a later scene and I was done. This time the audience laughed and I shrank. It ruined the whole experience. I left the theater feeling uneasy and furious. 

I'm so frustrated. I just want to know why the filmmaker allowed that word to make the cut. 

How do you get someone to understand the magnitude of that word? How do you convey that it packs an obscene amount of hate...even if you say it with a smile? It is NOT a term of endearment. It is not okay to use.

Whenever I hear the word I immediately flash back to being a small kid. I was playing with my friends and a white little boy screamed the word at me...told me to shut up and then BAM! He hit me with the hate. I was young, but I still remember how I felt hearing that word. I felt less than. I felt powerless and beat. Demeaned and even worse my white best friend sat by and said nothing so I felt alone. 

Back then I had no one to tell. No one understood and I didn't know there were others who felt the way I did. Now it's different. Now I have the interwebs so I took it to Twitter. I expressed my disdain for hearing the word. I didn't expect a response because no one wants to take responsibility and apologize for offending someone who isn't large enough to matter. I'm a no one...who cares what I think, right? But not even a minute later I get a notification that actor who had said the N word in the movie "favorited" my tweet. He was mocking me. I looked up from my phone; stared at my husband and started tearing up and the memory of the little girl being yelled at by the racist white boy back in Texas came flooding back in. By favoriting that tweet he was letting me know that he didn't care what that word did to me or like-minded folks like me. 

So I'm calling him out. I'm speaking up. I hope more people do the same. If people do...if they refuse to financially support that film and the writers maybe they'll learn that it's not okay and we won't just get over it. There are certain lines we shouldn't cross. The N Word isn't okay to use. I don't understand how people ignore that word's legacy. Are the laughs worth it?  

If you haven't seen the movie, please don't. Don't condone their thoughtless insensitive script. Don't support the bully actor who thought it was funny. Don't support the hate. The Clippers owner has been all over the news for his racist remarks. The same finger now needs to point at the gatekeepers in Hollywood.

Films are powerful. They have the ability to move and inspire us. Unfortunately, I went in thinking I'd get a great laugh and come away feeling a little lighter and goofier. I assumed the film would inspire some laughs. Instead I've felt like crap ever since. There are all of these actors doing terrible things right now and people are looking the other way. We need to stop looking the other way. It may not offend you today, but who knows what fowl slurs will come up next time.

I have no idea how to shake this off. I keep writing to friends who I know have the words and understanding. Words that I don't. I don't have smart comebacks. I just get angry and cry. (Not the way you fight the bully.) Even worse, I feel like I just have to let it go...somehow get over it because no one seems to really care that he said it. I'm not optimistic. That ignorant man's words counted for so much; mine for so little. People just shrug their shoulders and say, "Well not much can be done." The nuclear bomb of racial epithets was dropped. I'm searching for someone...ANYONE who cares about the impact.

The Neighbors , N word, Racial epithet, racial slur, Hollywood, Racists, Twitter, Ike Barinholtz

Dear Ms. Universe (The All Powerful, Not The Pageant Queen)

Yesterday I posted this on the interwebs for the Universe to see. I know She totally has a facebook and twitter so... It was a goon-given duh.

A wise woman told me once that if I need something I should ask the Universe and She will send the help...here goes...I need to find an amazing screenwriter to become my bestie for a bit. I have an idea for a film that I need to be in and since no one else is hopping on the Tishy Train it's time I built one that people will want to ride. Okay that sounded vaguely filthy, but try to stay with me. Screenwriter. Amazing.Trustworthy since I'll be giving them THE best gift EVER and they can't screw me out of playing this woman.  Okay, that's all. Thank you for your time, Universe.

So...yeah. I'm putting that out there. I totally floated out that message with love and gusto! Now I'm waiting on the beach for the awesome person who finds my endearing little message in a bottle. This will work, dang it!



I'm just jealous / I'm just human / Don't hate me...

Yesterday I spent the whole day being jealous of the great Bey...

I bought the album back on that infamous Friday the 13th it was released, but it's taken me this long to sit down and just watch all of her videos back-to-back. The artistic explosions she called music videos are frickin' mind blowing. I developed some serious aspirations: using your talents to the umpteenth most power came to mind. I don't even know what that kind of power would feel like. To be able to put it out there that you want to create these beautiful films (because that's what they are; let's keep it real.) and have all of these mega talented directors come to the table (whilst salivating) is a foreign concept. I wanna be like Beyonce when I grow up!

Sometimes I read my horoscopes and grow terrified. Supposedly I'm supposed to already be delighting in the fruits of my creative labors, but here I sit...at my home...not being Beyonce-like. I wonder if I pulled one of those Sliding Doors scenarios. You know, I missed the train door seconds too late and it sent me off on a completely different path. Sometimes I'll be walking by someone and I'll have this crazy sense that we knew each other in a past life or were supposed to know each other...

It's hard to explain, but I clearly saw my life as an actor when I was super small. It felt super duper real and makes it hard (super duper hard) to recognize and accept the life of right now. Now all the smart ones reading this will instantly sound the warning alarms because smart ones know that comparing and fighting what is, is a no-no.

...Doesn't stop me from feeling uneasy and frightened that I'm walking the wrong path somehow. When I get on the correct one I'll let y'all know. Stumbling and learning...dreaming and attempting to control the fire burning in my belly.

Current songs of the Queen's playing in my head:


Drunk in Love



Beyonce, Drunk in Love, Jealous, acting aspirations, dreams, hopes, sliding doors, aspiring actor

Headless Chicken

...That's what I am right now...A headless chicken running around in exhausting circles trying to figure out where acting's allusive door is.

Lately I've been in the worst kind of funk a dreamer can find themselves in: the doubtful kind.

I'm working in a job that is HELLA boring and offers no real challenges...no interactions...no inspiration. Then to top it off acting is pretty much going nowhere. I haven't had an audition in a long time and haven't booked in an even longer time so I'm getting scared and a wee bit desperate.

Folks who are working have recommended books, new head shots, workshops...so I've picked up a book. I'm researching the new head shots and workshop bits and I'm slowly plucking my hairs out in quiet frustration.

I'm supposed to figure out what type of actor I am. At this point I just want to be a working one. (Ain't too proud to beg!) I get all of these different messages: follow every other successful actor's path. Don't follow every other actor's path....

I told you I'm running in circles...circles upon circles because some are telling me to run clockwise and then another person comes along and tells me I've been running the wrong way for years.

Breathe, Tish.

I'm so terrified that it will never happen. I never accounted for that actually. I never had a plan b for when I didn't make it...so even thinking that way has me terrified and stressed and freaked the EFF OUT.

The life of a wannabe actor...I'm sick to the ultimate death of that cliched place of being. I need some miracles, magic and hope STAT!

(The wine can only appease me for so long.)

Cinco de Mama


Growing up I always thought there was a crazy amount of folks celebrating with my Mo for her birthday. We grew up in Texas...THE place to be for Cinco de Mayo celebrations, but I never put the two together. I just knew my mother was kind of great and it made sense that everyone would want to sing along; margaritas in hand. Now that I'm grown a wee bit smarter the day has been renamed. Cinco de Mama is a big day and this year I wanted to really drive home the fact that I think she's swell. That in mind I thought it might be snazzy to collect memories of her. I started in January asking her friends and family to send me one memory each. I placed each memory in its own blue hued envelope and marked each one with a number. 

It was such a great and fun project...Some of the memories came to me sealed, but if they weren't I totally read those bad boys like the nosy rosy that I am and BAWLED some kind of ugly over how loved and respected the Great Sue is. 

She's the resident Medicine Woman. (Step over Dr. Quinn!) She's magic...She's kind and goofy and I'm proud to say I get my zany energy and passion for life from her. 

If I could I'd give that woman the moon and stars, but she's totally low maintenance when it comes to everything so it probably wouldn't fly. I could see her calling me a heifa and ask me to put them back....THE hardest woman to shop for, let me tell ya. I laugh at bloggers' attempts at mom gift suggestions. You can't get my mom anything girly. Purses, perfumes, jewelry...she'd look at you like a monkey wearing a sombrero was clawing its way out of your butt.  Yeah...it couldn't be traditional mom gifts. This year it had to be personal and touching AND non gender specific. It had to be memories...

I love you, dearest Mo. I'm glad you were born. I'm glad I get to be your daughter. Thank you for making this world a more Sue-tastic place! Happy Cinco de Mama! 

Do a shot of tequila for the gal! It's Paleo and I hear there's some other holiday being celebrated today It's a win (cubed) situation.

Put The Book Down!

I feel the need to toot my gangsta horn for a moment. I started a book; got a couple pages in and learned it was about a subject matter that makes me unbelievably sad so I returned it to the library without finishing it.

I know....

Hide your kids! A girl name Tish is out there doing wild and crazy things with books!

I'm the worst kind of reader. I'll hate a book, but feel like I have to finish the damn thing. I don't know where that need to read comes from, but it sucks up so much awful time. Time I don't have! So I made a promise to myself that I would stop bad books in their tracks.

On to the next book!

If you suffer from the same predicament that I do put the book down! I'll give you some great ones that will make up for the bad. You don't have to read crappy literature, folks!

Cash on Delivery: Tishy Liked it!

It's rare that I go to the theater and enjoy myself the way I did the other night when I saw Cash on Delivery at the Glendale Centre Theatre. If you live in Los Angeles and need a good laugh then check it out.

Seriously, I was laughing so hard I had to catch my cackling breath throughout the whole thing. It's a hilarious English comedy farce; great acting, fantastic writing and nonstop action. Yeah, I just described a theater production. No, I don't wear black turtle necks and no I don't smoke a pipe. (Gave it up YEARS ago.)

But now that you mention it, I do sound smart. Loving a theatre (spelled the correct way, nose in the air if you spell like you care!) production that brings all the anglophiles to the yard is priiiiit-teeee impressive.

I'm not much of a theater lover, really. Not all actors are thespian luvahhs. My aversion didn't stop me from loving this production and then some, though. Didn't stop Mark, either. I was SO waiting for him to nod off and embarrass me. (If the dude can't stay awake through action packed films such as Superman and any other movie that features loud explosions and other violent noises that would wake the dead, then there's no way he'd make it through a play.) BUT he did and he sat on the edge of his seat engaged AND he laughed AND slapped his knee like a true team player.

So see it. Then write me and we'll chat about how hilarious and great it was. Then you can thank me and I can gush for a bit and then recommend something equally as cool to do next.

You're welcome.

"It's Just the Radio"


One of my favorite songs and covers...

Haunting. Creepy. Nostalgic.  It could be a new perfume description...Or my dating profile on Match dot com.

A Divorce: I Am SO Aware of the Gaps

Have you ever parted from someone who played a significant role in your life, be it a boyfriend, girlfriend or platonic pooper trooper pal?

I did it more than once last year in 2013. It was necessary work because I knew those relationships weren't good for anyone involved, but now that awesome life year 2013 has ended (read: I got married...an ordeal that requires all your friends and family to focus on you with a happy fierceness usually reserved for the likes of Oprah and baby kittens) and so I'm keenly aware of the holes that were left behind.

In the past I was lucky. If a space opened up the Universe would send another friend to fill the gaps. Now that I'm older...and work from home full time it's just not happening. It doesn't help that my ability to trust is null and void. Friends make for difficult break-up partners. When you share mutual friends it's hard to move on. Friends shift and take sides and I'm unfortunately on the bad end of that stick; no longer shiny and interesting.

I've lost my friend mojo. That's a super hard statement to make. Kind of makes me want to cry, actually. I'm trying to open up and be as honest and sincere as I can be. I'm trying to leave the anger and frustration out. I'm trying. I'm trying...but this is such a weird and foreign experience. It almost feels shameful. My pride has a hard time admitting that I'm not the winner in the divorce.

I think admitting all of this might be good...I think anyways. I don't know what the next steps will be, but I can't WAIT to get to a point where I'm back in a loved space with people who are authentic and kind and trustworthy.

I'm doing some hard work in the background...and it's why you haven't heard from me as consistently...my 'voice' has changed. My spirit has a shadow over it...I feel muffled and a bit lost. Wow! I'm just sharing ALL THE THINGS, aren't I?

Anyways, that's my story for now...

I sincerely hope the next chapter is a bit easier. The lonely stage isn't a swell one, folks...sucks balls of fury, if you must know.Gotta make peace with the holes...

Food for thought (if you happen to be going through something similar.) This NY Times article is still something I go back to and re-read.
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