Holy fuck it took me so long to get onto this Blog thing I almost gave up. SERIOUSLY. 

K, but wait, imagine, like a really drunk woman with blue eye shadow saying "surusly, like, surusly".

Wait. 

 I don't have blue eye shadow on. Nor am I drunk. Wait, am I drunk? I don't think I'm drunk. No, I'm not drunk. But I am saying it in her voice. 

Ok so THIS is when technology is failing me. When I have a stream of consciousness that I need to pound out in writing because I type faster than I write, and guuesssss whaaaaaaat, guess what!? I can't because of fucking computer slowness, or internet passwords, or technological what-the-fuck-everness is slowing me down and making the creative impulse avalanche that is happening in my brain have to sit still. That's like asking an ADHD child to just chill out. 

Is that politically incorrect? Talking about an ADHD child? Is it? I don't want to offend anyone. But seriously (surously) I get such creative word vomit sometimes that asking my brain to just chill the fuck out is basically the most insane thing you could ask someone. "Hey oceanic wave, just hang 10 for 5." 

Not happening. Ok. So why do I have to? And THEN, when the computer finally agrees that she's ready to let me start writing, we start with THAT bullshit above because I need to get that out, as it's been systematically piling up in my head on top of the other stuff that's been sitting patiently, and which is ACTUALLY the reason I sat down to poetically vomit out. It's a lot of thoughts in here. I need to suss through them. Alright. I think that's the dirt... let's get to the mud.

Basically I started writing again, because I have been inundating Facebook with the world record long statusese. What is the plural of status. Statuses? Statusese? Hey look a penguin.

Ever since I arrived in this land of Brunswick to do this new play (a new show by Norm Foster "Hilda's Yard" at Theatre New Brunswick. Ya that's a publicity drop, to all four of you reading this). New Brunswick... because eventually there must have been a Brunswick... or a York, or a Hampshire.... all us North America losers get the "New" ones because we think momentarily that we'll be better... but when you keep looking to the older sibling to inform your relevance you realize you're, like, mediocre at best, and you definitely don't have any cool castles, or sheep. 

ANYWAY, ever since I arrived in this awesome land of the Canadian East I have been subjecting my friends, for good or bad, to extremely long... oh holy shit, what's the word... stories, like, analogies, but more like Oh! Anecdotes. I have been subjecting my "friends" (and I say friends loosely mainly based on the label that Facebook so lovingly gives them... like you're my "friend", but are you actually? I subscribe to you... but like loosely as a human being, I'll allow you to look at my shit is what I'm saying... this is a photo of me trying to be as awesome/hot/stupid/pretty/adventurous/magnanimous/creative as possible, and you can "like" the fuck out of it. Ya bitch*, "Like" that shit. I'm awesome.) to wicked anecdotes, and as I write them I think "fuck, I should return to my blog, this is just pouring out of me" and then I don't, and instead eat up their feed with my stories. I'm not denying the awesomeness (ya that's a new word Shakespeare-Olthuis. We're married.) of the anecdotes, and people are seemingly genuinely enjoying them. But I AM saying that maybe I could expand on those thoughts, and the spacial brevity forces me to keep it short. I mean please within 5 paragraphs here I've already been able to use multiple parentheses and a goddamn footnote... brevity is not natural to me. Wit on the other hand... 

So the blog. I have returned. For now. I realize how incongruous I have been over the years...

I'd like to share with you now some text. Mainly because I don't want to forget it, and partially because I think that someone, somewhere will be able to smile, and hopefully somewhat relate. For context most of these texts listed in this blogosphere will be between one of my best friends, and my commonplace positivity warrior Kristan. Also owner of blog, and general soul-healer. Spoken of in previous posts from my other life and generally, regardless of what I do (aside, I'm assuming from killing someone, but seriously, I actually think if I had to kill someone** that she would be the one who would be like "Perr, I don't agree with what you, but I love you. Where shall we dump the body") she's THAT friend, and she equally likes texting, which is awesome.

-- Side note: I just spent like 10 minutes looking at texts in my phone because in my mind we had a hilarious exchange. I didn't really find one that I thought anyone but us would care about, but I also found an exchange about waxing. I want to put it on here. But I need to get her permission first. So maybe in the next post. Also, like, waxing... so like, we all just want to pretend the hair-from-the-root yanking it didn't happen and reap the rewards instead, right? I'M NOT BEING MISOGYNISTIC I AM LEGITIMATELY FEELING LIKE NO ONE WANTS TO ACTUALLY READ ABOUT IT***

--Ok. So I found the exchange. It wasn't that funny. Apparently I was amazed about the idea that it was an hour later here in N.B. than it was in Toronto because of the time change, so basically I was in bed at 10pm here, and it was 9pm there, and that was AMAZING. It was dumb. Let's move on. 

Ok so there's one text (edited a titch): 

Me: Got a ride home and now want something sweet. I don't have anything here.

        So, instead, here is a string of thoughts:

        I love my cast

        (Something omitted for personal and embarrassial (yes it's now a word) reasons)

        I wish I had a cookie

        (Something else omitted because I feel like it makes me look pathetic... I want to look awesome first... ya, I realize that it's probably too late... public stream of consciousness is always a good start...)

        I love you!

        I'm making tea

        I'm going to read

        God! I want something sweet. 

        Where is my billet?

        I will eat her food.

        Stop looking in her cabinets for food. 

        Drink tea. 

        I want a party

        I need to run

        It's been raining for two days

Kristan: Woooow.

Me: I don't buy bad food so that I don't eat it, and then when I do want a cookie or something I'm like "I WILL PILLAGE YOUR CABINETS MUTHERFUCKER" Also? PMS? What the fuck. Also, PMS makes you want to procreate I'm thinking of texting people I shouldn't (also people who are thousands of kilometres away) for the possibility of coitus. This is ridiculous. 

... I need to write in my blog. Seriously. This place is like Draino for my writer's block. 

Kristan: Uh. Yah seriously. 

ALRIGHT, Kristan aka Mams ****,  here's your blog post. Wowza. So I'm left thinking, as I continue to fantasize about the oatmeal cookies I saw in the fridge when I was trying to raid my lovely billet's fridge, but also restraining due to my own morals, are other people this insane in their heads?? Do we all have these half baked, but also very lucid strains of thought grappling around in our brain? Or is it just me, or shall I hope, the select few, who either are happy to share their thoughts with people who either enjoy the ramblings, and hopeful humour, in the prospect that we may connect, on some level with other humans. Or... the other, in that people enjoy smugly reading this thinking "well I may hate my job, my partner, and my kids, but at least I don't have THAT shiznit happening in my frontal lobe". 

Either way. You're welcome. 

En commence. 

xo P

 

        

 *Bitch is used loosely. Like, I'm not misogynistic, like, I could say "goof face" but mostly I just like saying bitch. It's to the point and people tend to laugh. Especially when you're a white chick and you say it in a ridiculous voice. Like a pimp voice. Pimps have ridiculous voices, and say things like "BOUNCE", instead of "Go". If you are currently scrunching your face, and feeling completely let down by my colloquial use of the derogatory feminine pronoun, and are about to change your browser to "NEVER READ THIS PAGE AGAIN. WOMEN HAVE WORKED TO HAVE THEIR POWER" then maybe this isn't the blog for you. I tend to cross boundaries. But mostly I'm hilarious, and only half serious. Like pimps aren't actually awesome. Except for the awesome ones. Also, you'll feel better about how generally, and comparatively sane you are. You're welcome.     

**This is not an actual possibility. Please do not flag this page. I ramble. Publicly. I could keep defending my position, but frankly, I'll just keep digging a ditch... no pun intended... not that I'm making a joke.      Fuck.    Let's just move on.

***We're totally going to talk about that shit.

****Mams... based on our traveling relationship in Europe. I think it's previously been explained. I'm too lazy to look. Short story: We are the world's best traveling companions.

OH THERE YOU ARE PETER!

This is actually laughable. No, it's not just laughable. I AM laughing. I'm sitting here, Black Keys on the audio, laughing. Well... ok truthfully... I'm laughing quietly, so I'm more just shaking a little. Chest pumps and breath. But that's laughing, dawg.

...It has been so BLOODY long since I've had even an inclination to write my thoughts out - "Out" and not down, m'cause people can read them, yo. I'm feeling a little rusty. BUT the intention was there, so I must have something to say, seeing as it's been OVER a year. 

I feel like this is a new chapter. Ok, so before I saddle up for a big order of CORN DOG. I will qualify that by explaining that it IS actually a new start. Last time I was doing a lot of re-happiness searching. I found a lot of it. A LOT I say. But guess what?! I pretty sure I just found s'more. WOAHHHHH. 

It's pretty amazing and cosmically awesome when you realize you can still surprise yourself. Isn't it? If you haven't for a while, then I fully recommend it. What should you do? Fack, I don't know. I don't know your scary place! That's just a fact.
...It's terrifying to say the least, but based on how good I've felt lately I can say it was entirely worth it... getting scared.

I'm debating here how much to actually divulge, right here, right now. It's a lot. It's a bit of a slut, this information... it just wants to spill all over the place and all over everything. But truthfully, doesn't the art of writing include a little suspense? Intricate details, slowly ebbing out of the bucket, weaving a tapestry of much more as each piece finds one another. 

For me I would say my fear stems from the unknown, unsure that if you just take a step in the direction you are looking towards that you won't be caught. That you'll loose more than you gain. Remember when you were a kid, flush with the freedom of fearlessness and you'd try something new or different, and then because kids can be brutally honest and inexplicably cruel, they would shoot that down (adults did that too. But children are more blunt). If you tried something new as a child, and were rebuffed, then why when more is at risk, would we want to attempt an unknown as an adult? 


Because for some reason you know that you have to.


For me, that pressure cooker has only one exit. When the things that you are continuing to do hurts a hell of a lot more than the alternative; the fear of trying something new. You jus' gotsta do that new thing.

But I have to say I've been down-poopin' BLOWN AWAY by how things have lined up for me in the past little while. I took a big breath, took a step in the direction I have felt innately right for so long and realized that as soon as I did that, unseen events came forward to push me along; carry me, when I didn't have my own strength and keep me looking forward when I didn't think I could. 

I'm not a religious person, but dagnabbit, this was pretty incredible. 

I've been surrounded by love, jobs, people, joy, fresh starts, perfectly aligned opportunities and a lot of wine.


A lot of you know one or a few of the things I'm talking about. But trust me, there are more and some are still being discovered. At the end of the day the scariest thing? The most embarrassing thing to admit? I am unbelievably HAPPY. Contented. Blissful. Optimistic. Excited about my life. Loving more people than I thought I possibly could.


It's hard to admit that when getting there comes with a cost. I've been sad - this is undeniable. But I'm not one to look back and I can't believe how strong and excited, and young I feel. Which is awesome, because who wouldn't want to feel 20, with the extra 8 years of experience to keep you from being a total facking moron (again). 20 year olds are totally, like, super cute... but... yaaaa....

I think partially, I have felt compelled to write as the last time I went on a  journey it gave me a touch point that I could continue coming back to as I delved into the unsure darkness all around me. This time I am similarly delving... some DELVATION as it were. But this time I have a concrete end I am reaching toward. 

HOLY HANNAH. I am being so bleamin' cryptic. I should start again. Try a different approach. But some of the fun of reading this silly blog is that I don't really know where I'm going to end up, and sometimes I find what I didn't know I was looking for mid thought stream. 

Let's end this ridiculous defibrillating Blog with some FABULOUS things that I am loving right now. 


>>Drake. I FLIPPING love Drake. I don't know why. I used to hate him. But I do. Now. Love. Him. I'm hood... Deal with it. 


>>Hahaha. As I am about to write this next thing I realize that it's ALSO Drake. Hilarious. I am working at The Drake, and as much as I'm not totally pumped on the fact that I'm back in the serving world - as, clearly I'd rather be acting... I also AM pumped on this. And of all the places I could work? I'd say The Drake is pretty much the pinnacle of what I'm looking for soooo. WOO HOO.

>>I had an awesome experience shooting a film with Mr. Brian Allan Stewart this past January. It provided strength when I wasn't sure of anything. It reminded me that I am an actor above most other things. I'm curious about humans. It pushed me to things I had never done, and reinstated the fact that "Yes, I can" (Thanks. President O). I am super excited to collaborate on the next project and I feel really grateful. 

>>An adorable, bright, and fresh sublet via Ms. Ashlie Corcoran. Brilliant woman, darling friend. I am so excited to have such a vibrant place to live for the next few months. 


>>The amount of INCREDIBLE people who I have in my life. People who have always been there, others who have re-surfaced, ones I've only just met. Every new friend who has come forward in the last couple of months has grossly informed my learny-learning about myself and where I see myself. It's freaking remarkable. I would be no where with out all of you. 

Holy heck. For someone who keeps a rather waspy outlook on emotion, I just showed you a lot of my biznatch. YEEP!


That's all. I know I've been edgier and more fun in past posts. That's still freaking in there. I just gotta get out all the love first, y'all! 

Oooh! And a song, which makes everything bad better, and everything awesome even awesomer! OMG I'm so excited for you to hear this right now. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FWlIEBPKl7M


xoxox Perrie
  

I'm a fighter... and I almost forgot.

So, sometimes the world just pulls down your pants, paints your butt red and pushes you in the middle of a Bullfighting ring. It happens. Sometimes, you run around half naked, trying not be be speared by a bull for... well, a while. Sometimes that makes it hard to write about being chased by a bull and you have to wait until you're out of the Corrida de Toros to properly journalize the events.

So here we are, loyalists. I've escaped near death by bull-horn and I'm here to tell the story. I'm not sure if I've made this clear in previous posts, but tha last 3 years have been hard; this year... and a half?... have been the BIGGEST, HARDEST kick in the head, heart, and spirit. I'm not entirely sure that I could pin it down to one, or even three main events and I'm not sure exactly what began the civil war, but oh yes, there was a war, and it's took place just a little north east of Hell.

Basically, it's been a series of breakdowns, which is always wonderful, and as someone who prides herself in being strong and brave in the face of peril I do not give in to breakdowns easily... especially when they're happening weekly, for me it means defeat... and defeat is hard when you're an Aries*. But this is noooo pity party, and I am not someone who feels sorry for myself easily or happily, but I do feel that background infomations is necessary, n'est pas?

Alright, so to sum up all of this anus, I felt for the first time in my life I was in the middle of the Atlantic, during storm season** and the rescue devices were juuuuuust out of my reach, and so I basically spent some time underwater trying to grow gills. Which I realize is actually harder than getting out of the water, but if you can't see the shore... HOLY MONKEYS, WHAT is with the metaphors Olthuis? You know you haven't written for a while when...

And now, as media isn't exactly the apex of this blog: an interlude of STORM photos:

THIS IS ACTUALLY AN "ATLANTIC STORMMMMM"

This is me in September trying to drive through a wave.

This was the view they sent me from space of me trying to go through the wave

I didn't read this.

Ok so I had a hard year. I became unbelievably insecure about pretty much everything, day to day events simultaneously scared me, and gave me massive anxiety, I was tired ALL the time, and the littlest issue or hiccup had me in bed convinced I would never be ok. People frightened me, and some days I realized that I hadn't smiled all day. I generally felt angry, and *gasp* bitter about everything. I'm not sure how many people have gone through something like this, and I'm not even sure how to diagnose it... but as an actor, these are traits that have to pretty much not exist... or at least be secure enough as a person that those neuroses can just go in the closet for important things like auditions, or you know, surviving getting constantly and unfoundedly rejected.

Alright, so I finally buckled and got some help. Things started getting better early fall... sort of... but it's LITERALLY taken until righhhhhttt NOW. NOW.  So here's what's up. I know I was sketchy, and hint-ey, and all secretive about my plans, but the "plan" was a new little lamb, and I just had to be secure before showing it to the world.

So the BIG news is that after over a month of really detesting my current job, and waking up everyday feeling useless in serving my greater purpose. I realized that if I'm not being creative, then I'm not actively contributing to my existence. I am in and out a creative creature, and to not be so is death. Realizing that for me, doing mundane administrative labour is definitely worse than the alternative of not knowing what's next, I made the leap of faith to hand in notice and see what happens. This was largely due to the help of my vunderbar support team (you know who you are, you Titans). With that single, swift move I remembered after a long lapse of forgetting that I, Perrie Olthuis am a goddamn FIGHTER. I'm a warrior of my own life, and I had always approached things head on and without fear. I'm not sure what shook that out of me, but it was shooked, and finally being ready to reclaim that made me feel bloody powerful for the first time in years.

So here we are. One new misery-maker murdered, and more contentment to be conquered (holy alliteration batman... rhetorical devices galore... too bad I'm not in Grade 12, I'd kick this paper's ASS!). So here's the rest: I'm going back to hospitality for a while... and I'm totally ok with that! I'm excited to have random hours again, more time off to spend with myself, my art, and le chien noir, AND to talk to new people. But just for a while...

I've decided that ultimately I'm going to work from home, and I'm going to create my life around my creativity. Actually. I'm going to use all different areas of what talents I possess and I'm going to work and work and work to make sure I never feel empty again, I'm going to paint, I'm going to photograph, and I'm going to explore, I'm going to start singing again... and acting :) I left my agency late in the summer, and it was one of the best decisions I have made... but being agent-less is not stopping me, in fact now I can go straight on and without the previous toxicity and continue finding my own work (as I've done all along). Not to say that I won't agent-ize again, but it's not the first thing on my agenda, and I no longer feel that "agency" means success... I had first hand experience to prove that I equal success. Being a free agent doesn't scare me anymore, it excites the bujesus out of me. When I do travel down Agency Boulevard again it will be right.

Ok, so I AM still scared about things, I'm scared about failing, in many ways. But I have learned through this brutal, brutal war, the following:

-I'm not responsible to create anyone's happiness but my own.
-I WILL have to keep changing, because I as a person need to keep growing; if I'm not changing I'm not growing.
-What am I without a dream? (the answer is really lame)
-Everything that matters is right now, in this moment. Right now I'm just fine, and that's the future.
-Anxiousness and depression are gifts because they give you clues to slow down and listen.

Ok, so maybe I seem really together or something. Well, I'm not, but I am so so so much better and a little closer to knowing myself. I'm hesitant to say that I'm grateful for the past 4 years... but I guess I am. I don't think I could ever get lower than where I've been, so that's a plus.

Quite frankly, after everything, I'm a little less scared of that bull... TORRO!

Per


Footnotes:

*Aries (March 21 to April 20) the astrological animal is a RAM... anyone who knows me... you may as well call me Perrie "The RAM" Olthuis.

** Totally just guessed that there would be a "Storm Season" and there is!! June 1st to November 30th! Whatsup.

HEY FORD! RIDE THIS!

Let me preface this by saying I have never really taken an interest in politics outside of caring what the elected candidate will do, or disgustingly not do, for the Arts community. I simply haven't taken the time to understand the terms, the rules, or the tiers.

As someone who believes that politicians are (mostly) human, and understanding that, realize that they probably can't follow through on 90% of their promises because once they get voted in, they have to fight everyone in parliament who believes their opinions and destinations are the most important... sort of like rush hour on the TTC... so I don't really hold them up to standards, or pay too much attention to them promising on their "mama's cherry pie" that they're going to give everyone one-million dollars if they're elected ... oh! and make the city crime-free.

I'm more of a grocery-store grazer of politics, pick up headlines when need be, graze articles, and at the end of the day vote the way I always do... however, this election - I'm flipping concerned. The upcoming election, which I didn't even know was coming until about a month ago when I witnessed one of the most repulsive people ever have top rank in the voting polls. Are people BLIND? How can you actually want to see MORE of that man? Ohh ok, I'll stop being coy. But I"m pretty sure y'all know who I be talking 'bout. The big, bald, red-faced, baby? The man who looks like he eats a 20 ounce steak morning, noon and night, and washes 'er down with a 40 of J.D.?

Like, really? It's like Chris Farley (RIP. You funny, funny bastard) and a 1000 pound swine had a baby... and named him Robby.

Ok I'm not here to low-ball and poke fun... I'm pretty sure Ford can do that to himself just by showing up. But I do have to say, that since that video on Youtube got posted of Ford basically eating his own head and making words come out of his ass, is one of the more non-sensical musings since George W...


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nySs1cEq5rs

The best defense I've read pertaining to that video is that in fact ROADS were created BEFORE cars, for humans to walk on. After that, were horse and carriages, followed by bikes, carts, and THEN cars... so roads aren't really FOR cars, are they FORD?

And if you REALLY want to see more of this eloquent man of mystery, here's a different 8 minute video, or you could just listen, although his grating voice isn't much better. It seems he may have revised some of his tactics, by proposing an alternate solution, which would NEVER get approved (perhaps why he suggests it)... he suggests widening the sidewalks in the downtown core? That's just so stupid. This isn't the SUBURBS Rob, there just isn't the room. This one is worth listening to just to hear how he opens:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nySs1cEq5rs&feature=related

Now, aside from that. I've noticed a heightened hostility from the drivers lately as I bike to work, despite being in a bike lane for 95% of the trip, and despite being one of the more respectful riders, because I have seen bikes creep the fuck up on you with a bloody death wish. In Ford's video he mentions that the bikers hate the cars and vice versa. I don't know if that's true... For instance, I don't like certain people in cars that yell "stupid bitch" at me before 9 am, and I don't like cars that cut me off... but truth be told, they're probably telling their mother she's a stupid bitch, and the cutters-off are probably cutting off a 16-wheeler. Dumb people are dumb people regardless of who's around. I think most of the drivers in this city are assholes regardless of whether or not I'm on a bike. I can't help wondering, however, if Ford may being inciting this growing hostility.

I wish he could visit Amsterdam... the bike parking lots take up the amount of room as multi-level parking garage in Toronto. The lanes ARE on the road, but there is a divider the size of a parking median all the way along keeping the bikers safe; cyclists clearly run that city, and you best be getting out their way biaaaatch. Seriously, getting hit by a cyclist in Amsterdam is not out of question.

As well, how is Ford defending cars?? He mentions that he drives in 3 times a week from Etobicoke. Is there not some form of transit, ie. GO Train, Bus, Subway, that can get him from the suburbs to where the ACTUAL city is? Shouldn't we be ramping the transit system to help unclog our roads so that traffic and POLLUTION (helloooo!!!) is reduced?

As well, I have a question: What are these mysterious 'Polls' and who are the people they're asking? I sure as hell haven't been asked who I'd vote for. Are they just zipping around asking suburban morons if they like 'Ford'? And the dumb-asses (probably the afore mentioned dipshits) think they mean the motherloving car company and get all googly-eyed thinking the poll-taker is going to give them a Ford... and then Rob Ford has 44% popularity (Smitherman, 38%, and Pantalone, 16% as of Oct 15th, for the record).

Nothing says sexy like a Focus... Damn, you blue stallion.

What the hell is going on?? Regardless of what you believe, for godsake just be superficial for a moment and ask yourselves if you REALLY want to look at this man for the next term. Go watch the videos again, and tell me, straight up, that you LOVE the way he talks, and his belly is sexy and you wanna rub cocoa butter alllll over it.

You don't, and you're just saying you do to unhinge me.

To leave on 'somewhat' of a positive note. Apparently, Miller was third in the "Polls" and look what happened there. As well, I find that generally speaking, Liberal voters tend to be slightly more passive until the fight at the end. Somehow, Conservatives fly their colours high like it's there JOB. So it's possible that the Liberals, Green, and NDP's are staying low until the end when we KAMIKAZE on your ass and take the office for the win.

AND we get to listen to beautiful sounds like this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hpvQXovrzyQ

Do yourself a favour and click on this link.

What do you think Robby's doing right now? Not listening to beautiful music and riding his bike... that's for DAMN sure.

xo Per

Confessions of a Guilty Non-Believer

Well. I believe I need to make a public apology. To myself, to the public, to the dying, ugly plant on my desk.

I have NOT "stuck to the plan". Kristan knows what I mean about "Sticking to the Plan":

(This is me STICKING TO THE PLAN in Amsterdam)

BigTallMan! I have not stuck to the plan! I'm just... horrible.

Everyone, I started this bloggificiousness for a REASON. Well, a few reasons. To get me old brain writing again, to vent and expel, and to GET HAPPY. Wellll... WTF? I've totally not been following protocol here.

Ok, in all fairness, I suck at protocol. I hate rules, and regulations, and will probably mutter under my breath how stupid "boundaries" are until I die. I begrudgingly "do what I'm supposed to" MAINLY so that I don't end up talking to myself, dirty and naked on the street; but also so I can DO SOMETHING of value with my life (keep this in mind, because drive and consequence largely influences my sense of duty... and get in the way of my rebellitiousness). HOWEVER, while I "try" to follow protocol I appear as a complacent, decent, and responsible, lovely girl*. I believe that my true, of truest nature actually comprises of total rebellion, and I'm bordering on an outburst. Again.

I told BigTall the other week that I'm the worst kind of rebel, because they never see it coming. After behaving for a while, I'll usually just stir shit up... just because I can. They think "oh, isn't she sweet, quiet (HA!), kind and hard-working"... yup, sure am, until I throw it in your face biatch! I played hooky two days last week (ooooh dangerous), and it's the best thing I've done in a while, I rode my bike basically for two days straight. I slept, I read, I watched T-motherfucking-LC, and it was a "Say Yes to the Dress: Atlanta" marathon and I OWNED IT (it's ridiculous and hilarious crack, and for some stupid reason I LOVE it). I knit, learned a new stitch (again... what a fucking rebel), I cleaned the house and my MIND, and felt GREAT. Yah, I'm bad-ass. I didn't feel bad at ALL about LYING to the entire office about my non-existent illness. Does this make me a horrible irresponsible person? NO. It makes me a person who can't effing take it anymore and refuses to put up with it.

Why do you think so many people are SO ANGRY all the time? They're doing things they resent DAY IN DAY OUT. Yes, everyone, I am angry and sad a lot. I resent the fact that my entire day is being eaten by a computer, and an Excel Spreadsheet, and doing menial tasks  make my head crawl, I'm eventually numb by 5:30. I know my above, and latest rebellion seems trivial, and boring in the grand scheme of society's iconoclasts... but this is the latest uproar in my history; they have been small and large, and conclusively far too numbered to post in one measly entry. The basic overview is that I think authority can suck it.

So as I was swimming around in my discontent this last week I realized that the whole reason I started this blog is so I can keep track of where I am in my life, and how I am supposedly striving EVERYDAY to make it better... well I should slap myself repeatedly with a strap: you have not been striving Perrie! You have not strove.

Soooo: what now? Remember my little monster I found a few weeks ago... that cute little asshole? Well. I think his friend's brother's name is Rebellion, and he's about to cause a motherfucking riot (sorry mom, I know you asked me not to swear... WELL I'M REBELLING. I HAVE TO SWEAR). How do you cage an intelligent, overly creative, ambitious, non-conformist biatch? Hmm, me thinks you don't. AHHH Haaaa, but therein lies the RUB, I don't want to end up the naked, dirty homeless woman mentioned above. There are days I feel close though, and only my roof above tells me that I'm not quite there.

I swear to god though, if I have to listen to one more person in this office telling me about their stupid baby, or the fact that the subway was slow that morning (GASP. NOO! You're kidding right!? The subway is NEVER slow!) because that's ALL they have going on in their lives I may Superman Punch them into the vending machine (see fig. A and B).

Maybe I'm not cut out for the 9-5?

Now, just for fun, and a little palate cleanser... I wanted to now share with you some of the conversations I've had with my co-worker. Enjoy:

Co-worker: I ordered a cake for my husbands birthday.
Me: Oh ya...
CW: Ya. I'll pick it up with my husband when he picks me up on Friday.
Me: Oh...
CW: So it won't be a surprise, but that's ok. It's just a plain cake...

(pause)

CW: I had a cake made in the shape of a caterpillar for my son's 1st birthday (her kid is now three... no judgement).
Me: Oh nice.
CW: Ya, it was fun.

...

CW: I had a blood work appointment today. I have to get more tests done because I'm an older pregnant woman, so they have to monitor me.
Me: Oh ya.
CW: Ya, there's a blood clinic across from St. Michael's so I just went there. DID YOU KNOW THERE'S NO AIR CONDITIONING ON THE STREETCAR!?!?!?!"
Me: Yahhh.(Not that surprising seeing as streetcars move all of Toronto, and the drivers are condescending cretins who make you feel like dirt just for stepping aboard their beautiful chariot... there's also no cleanliness, kindness, or general sense of decency.) Ya, I don't think they're capable of having them.
CW: THE SUBWAYS DO!
Me: Ya, I just think that the streetcars are older, and not equipped.
CW: Well I was SO hot, and I couldn't get a seat. I had to stand. No one offered me a seat! (as much as I appreciate, and DO offer very pregnant women my seat readily, she was only 2 months pregnant, sooo... not exactly showing)
Me: Oh that's too bad. Ya.
CW: I could have walked! At least there wasn't a line up though. There was no one there! I thought it would be so busy cause it's right downtown Toronto. But it wasn't.
Me: (IT'S A MIRACLE! That is the most AMAZING thing I've EVER HEARD. I CANNOT BELIEVE THERE WAS NO LINE-UP. WHERE ARE THE FUCKING TRUMPETS AND ANGELS a-SINGING!?)Oh that's good...
CW: Ya, I was happy.


Ok. Am I mean? Well I'm not. We've all THOUGHT these things. YES. YESS YOU HAVE... and if you're not ALREADY annoyed by these excerpts then just add the fact that I hear about every single mundane MOMENT.

I'm a critically thinking, intelligent, fast-witted person. I despise small talk with the vicious blowing hate of Saturn the gas-giant (who's winds subsequently blow up to 1,800 km/h... that's a lot of wind-hate), it's trivial, mind numbing and mundane. I'd rather sit in a cupboard, alone and cold. 

All of this is to say that my days of 9-5 are numbered. As the Perrie Happiness Project skips along, and as I'm having to REMIND myself, I'm SUPPOSED to be moving closer towards being content and fulfilled. Spending my days sitting still, logging information I don't care about, or care to understand, with no hope of progressing or moving forward is NOT in the plan! Being miserable as I try to figure out my next step is frustrating however, and as mentioned in a previous post, I DO in fact have my plan, I DO have my ideas. The trouble is existing monetarily before said ventures start making money for me.

So, I've decided to accept a PATRON!! Yes, everyone, I'm open to proposals for you to financially support me while I pursue artistic greatness. Rent is really the only thing I need. Perhaps the odd shopping spree at Holt Renfrew. A jet mayhaps? Oooh! A pool and a HORSE!

Ok... rent is fine. What I'm saying is that I stay busier than ever when I'm NOT working menial jobs that eat my brain sludge, so all I need is to have that burden removed and what could be accomplished!?! ummm... lots of awesome. I hate sitting still, and I hate doing nothing, I'm ALLL business.

Although the idea of a patron may appear slightly unrealistic, I am searching for my next WABAM! on my head to figure out how to make the money happen, whether through patronage or on my own. So where are we? Let's assess: that was a lot of rant to dig through:

1. I need to get out of here... soon...

2. To get out of here I need to come up with a way of paying rent that doesn't make me want to eat my knee-caps while I invest my valuable time and brain power in my art.

3. I feel like I'm back where I was, months ago BUT really, I've already extracted MANY
variables of negativity in my life including: stopping waitressing, re-assessment of what I WANT out of acting and art, and not what I'm told to want, (which results in desperation), and I'm currently experiencing a new path-option.

4. Fearlessly try something else for cash-money. (ooooh that one's hard. The rebel in me screams LEAVE GET OUT JUST DO IT! But the last time I did that I CHOSE to be unemployed for 6 months, which didn't really end up too well for my financial well-being. So it's about being spontaneous and careful at the same time... is such a thing POSSIBLE??)

5. I'm not a self-destructive rebel... I'm a self-fulfilling rebel.

6. I need to weigh what kind of detriment I am wracking up here and how it's weighing on my brain, my heart and my soul vs. if it's worth it.

7. Boring people make my head hurt.

Well that was a BLOG AND A HALF! So fear not readers, I'm already doing better than I was in my blog-absence.

Hopefully the next one will be just full of freaking inspiration station to inspire you AND me! I shall leave you with this song because I lurves it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SLK7hrRijes



*I once had a manager at a restaurant I worked at tell me that I look so lovely, and sweet until I open my mouth... mahahaha, yes looks are deceiving aren't they? ...The same goes for the misogynistic, moronic men who call: "hey baby, hey sweetie, smile!". LOOK! I've got shit on my mind. You want a smile? Go hire a lady of the night, yes A LADY OF THE NIGHT. Do men get told to "smile"? Ummm. NO HAHAHA. Can you imagine telling a man to "smile"!? hahaha. Punch in the faaace.

Remember My Pet Moster??

F'reals. D'you remember it?? I think it was one of my absolute FAVOURITE shows as a kid. But I never knew when it was on... 'CAUSE I WAS A CHILD...so catching it was AWESOME. It was like when you only thought there was fruit for dessert, and then BAM, chocolate cake m'fuckas! F'reals. Ok, I promise, that's the end of my apostrophied abreviations. Ridiculous.

Basically, that little monster would get out of his handcuffs, get that kid into trouble, and then before you could look the cuffs were back on him "who me? A little cute stuffed animal?". I mean, what kind of adult would believe a kid saying his "monster" did it. Ya. Right. You STUPID LYING KID.




Ummm... well, I, like, kinda, like have a monster? Believe me?

OK WOAH. Before you're all like "OMG guys, Perrie's schizophrenic, like for real. Omg guys..."

Ok, well, I'm not, but I did figure something out last night. I've heard of this thing that some people are never happy no matter what they do or have. They're always searching for better; never satisfied. Well I've been starting to worry that it was me...  BUT THEN I REALIZED. HOLY FUCK! It's not ME... it's that I have a MONSTER! It's not scary or anything, like, I'm not gonna go light your house on fire... but it is a monster. Here's the deal:

When I was a kid I was HUGELY imaginative. Most of the time I'd rather play alone because then I could create the full-out world I wanted to be in and didn't worry about having to explain it to my IDIOT friends (I'm totally kidding, my friends were cool). Like one time I decided to be this flute-player who lived on the sea and dolphins were my friends. So I attached our sea-blue sleeping bag (as the sea OBVIOUSLY) to a door handle and sat on it with my recorder, playing to my dolphin friends. Also, I would set up jumps and jump over them as a horse... I rode competitively until I was 12... it made sense.

WHAT I'm getting at here is that my imagination was, and STILL IS, huge. I wrote stories, painted, acted, played piano and made-believe random, random things and ALWAYS had something on the go. Well, I didn't realize it at the time, but that was my BEAST OF CREATIVITY just getting all warmed up, and taking form. My thoughts and behaviours have been hugely garnered by this thing, it's tres powerful. I feed it an idea of things to do, it chews it up, tastes it, and goes *BAH* and spits it out, "NEXT!". So I try something else...

Will this path please you little monster? Chew, chew, chew *BAH* ... ok... shall we go back to this? Chew, chew, chew *BAH*... no? ok... well how about we just quit everything and try something new? Chew, chew, chew *BAH BAH BAHHHHH*... Oh no? umm... well I'm out of ideas then!... Ooooh yaaa??? Well then I will go back in my cave until you figure your shit out. Enjoy depression, loser.

That's a typical emotional conversation I have. Good times.

Ok WAIT. So before we all write me off as a psycho. Understand that I'm not ACTUALLY talking to a monster, but I have realized that I'm constantly trying to please this creative beast. I suppose it makes me somewhat spontaneous, but it also creates huge lulls of being frustrated, confused, bummed, and general un-rest.

This monster, who obviously needs a name, seeing as at freaking TWENTY SIX I've finally figured out what's going on, is HUGELY ambitious (HEYYY!! Let's ride horses, own your own very successful company, act in plays, write music, sing in a band, become a fashion stylist, and also an interior decorator! Oh! ANND produce your own theatre! DO IT BITCH). He wants everything all the time. He gets sulky and pissed at me constantly, and sometimes will just NOT perform. And he's starting to act up again...

Uh oh...

The beginning of this week I felt bujiggity. Something was off, and I couldn't figure it out. WTF (sorry, I promised I woudn't use the abreve's anymore... I clearly lied) ... WHAT DO YOU WANT, THING?

... uh huh...

... uh huh...

Ohhh. REALLY? Ha ha. Ok... well, I'll get on that :)

Clifff HANGER.



But I am going to leave you with this today. Because I like it:

People often underestimate the power of waiting a situation out. As I've gotten older, I've noticed there's a great deal of power in pause. Sometimes we make problems worse by rushing to fix them. -- Elizabeth Gilbert

It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind...

I drafted a different post. Something felt wrong. I kept looking at it, leaving it, going back to it. For me, this is not natural, so I knew something had to be up with that. Wrong time, wrong format, wrong tense. Whooooo knows.

It could be the moody autumn feeling day (which, after the hottest summer I've remembered is VERY welcomed) but I'm feeling grossly introspective and painfully nostalgic. I get really nostalgic most Septembers, for new school clothes, for trips to Staples and smelling binders, the first day wondering if there would be a new cute guy, or a new best friend. But mostly I think it was new beginnings and infinite possibilities carefully encased in "first day of school excitement".

The three years of the George Brown Theatre School program were always fraught with anxiety and wonderful re-acquainting with my wonderful friends. Many of whom, to this day remain my closest, nearest and dearest family. The first or second week of school we would all (the whole school consisted of roughly 60-70 people) klammer excitedly onto two cheese-wagons and road trip to Niagara on the Lake for the Shaw Festival. The first year we attended, as First Years we were SO excited to show off our new dance moves to total strangers on the street that we willy-nillied ourselves over to a grassy knole in a park and "Ruffty Tufftied" our asses off. In retrospect this was AMAZING and densely embarrassing.

This year, I believe it's hitting me REALLY hard because I have made a HUGE decision. The paramount size of this decision... No. You know what?? It's not a DECISION. Decision sounds too concrete and death-like. One DECIDES to jump off a cliff...

NO. I've made a CHANGE. As this has been a tumultuous year of change (OMG so much more on that later), it is THE BIGGEST CHANGE to date.

I'm one of those lucky bastards who actually got to recognize her passion and follow it. I am eternally privileged for this, and it made this change SO MUCH harder. After 17 years of doing everything humanly possibly to be an actress, because my heart SCREAMED for it: for the poetic words, and the way they felt to speak and gravyed over my tongue, for the dark, slightly chilled, theatre, which even in its silence emanates life and pulses hypnotically to me*. After 3 years of on and off depression, while I strove endlessly to work, I peeled myself off my floor (literally) and gently told myself I needed to stop. Why you ask??

What kills me is I don't think I've ever stopped (or will stop) being desperately in love with theatre. It's the life outside of the actual jobs that has ripped me a part. I've always said that actors are strange creatures (well, for many, many reasons) but especially because we are the only people I know who have to be constantly and unnapologetically vulnerable AND possess armadillo skin, both to book jobs, and continue living when you don't.

On top of which, if, like 99% of actors without consistent or well-paid work, the actor is serving to pay rent (which is EXACTLY what it's is... serving, or SLAVING. The "good" tips barely make up for the soul-suckage that is waitressing), it takes a WHOLE OTHER kind of 'tough hard bitch skin' to get through a night of cocktailing. Again, ironic, because the next day at your audition you have to be a soft, sweet, darling (pour example).

 So after four years of working (sometimes on, and manytimes off) and picking myself up, brushing myself off, and convincing myself that I'm not just a server over and over and over (and OVER). I said "I'm better than this disgusting abuse, and I deserve more for what I'm giving". So I quit.

GASP! And I didn't miss it! How is this possible?? To strive, dream and hold to that love for YEARS... almost 20 years! How can I just shake it? Well. Truth be told I'm finding out that I can't. But I DO value myself far, far more than putting myself through the nightmare of giving up part of my life (and SANITY) to serve beer and be told "you're great! But not this time".

So, as stated in my initial BLAWWWG I'm on a search. I want to be "happy". I'm closer, I think than I was, my life is much fuller in many ways... but with this nagging nostalgia which has gripped my throat all day, I know that I'm not there yet. There have been various bastard things that have tipped me off, like remembering how I LOVED going back to theatre school each fall for three years, my first pro gig was in September, and then this (below), posted outside of George Brown a month ago reminded me of my optimistic, beaming self of yesteryear, and I wanted to cry.

WHAT HAPPENED?? I REALLY want to get back in the saddle. But I know now that I will not allow myself to be there without a strong bridle to keep me there. I need more than just wishin' and hopin' (read: working my motherf*%!ing ass off) until an acting job occurs that takes me out of the dungeon of a restaurant.

So what now? I'm working for a SALARY (whhhaaa??) at a large architectural firm in Toronto, and I've enjoyed my summer weekends for the first time since I was 14, AND discovered this CRAZY idea of something called a LONG WEEKEND (?!?!?! There's one of these like once a month!!!!) and I'm breathing...

But the "bug" my friends, has bitten and made a little nest in my heart long ago...

Welcome to the adventures of "THE PERRIE HAPPINESS PROJECT".


xoxoxox Per



*When I was in high school I would take a script and go and sit in the immense theatre in my school and just listen to it. I think it's the closest I've come to zen.