a year ago.

Sometimes I like to people watch. I see so many bits of the old me. So many are all trying to make things that do not work, work. I used to be that girl. Making excuses. Over looking obvious red flags. Fighting. I would have never believed it but I seriously think that there is a perfect person who fits perfectly into everyone of our lives.
I always wondered how you are supposed to know when you meet the “one.” I am far from an expert at relationships and I am far from perfect. All the days I have known Swoon I have never had a fight with him. I’ve never raised my voice, wondered if we would last, wished for someone else, drove off in rage. None of it. I think love must be when your care and concern for someone else’s well being equals your own. A mutual respect for each others feelings. You don’t have to freak out or yell because you respect the other persons far too much to treat them that way. When I get angry and break into fits of hysterics swoon usually says “awww come here mamma” and just holds onto my girl-fit until I calm down. He calls this snuggling. I call it hormones. This year when I started to walk away from my dance life (which provided a pretty radical paycheck) and went into becoming an unknown writer (which left me with an almost non-existent paycheck) he never made me feel like less of a human. He just told me he would support me as long as I needed him to and that he believed in me. So easy. We talk about getting married everyday and I never break into hives. When we play doggie swap with my ex he shakes his hand and says things like “I could see us all being friends one day.” Who says that? He is more handsome everyday. Sometimes I go to the laundry basket and smell his old shirts because that smell makes me happy. I know! I’m seriously screwed right?! But maybe that is what love is. The tiny little things that make normal days better.

I know I am going on and on, but love is confusing to all of us, and I thought that in the brief instant that I think I might have it figured out wanted to share.

Don’t waste time trying to change those red flags, because you might be missing out on your perfect match! My biggest regret is that I spent much of my 20’s wasting time on boys that were wrong for me. Sure, I loved them. Sure, there were moments of fun. Sure, skinny jeans make me swoon.

True love feels better than all of that.
Trust me.

In my life I had a godfather who was 6'6 and a deep-voiced, sort of intimidating farmer. He bought me my first roses. He used to tell me that "any boy who wanted me had to meet DA GODFATHER first". This past December when the girls from TWLOHA came to my house for a book party, he scared the crap out of them. Sometimes the things people do for you, stand out more than the words they say. He never said much. But, he was there for every single big day of mine. He bored people with stories of my adventures and when I showed up today in my 4 inch back heels, instead of cowboy boots, my mom told me "that is just the way he would have wanted you to be! Standing out from the crowd!"

Today we had the viewing of my godfather. I cried through the whole thing. I have so many memories of this amazing, sweet man. He was my biggest fan. Weird to be in a room of people and everyone knowing who you are because they've heard about your entire life.

I couldn't stop thinking about today was how we spend our entire lives collecting "things". We live in this insane commercial world where everything is for sale and our worth is determined by what we have surrounding us. My godfather passed away and now we must get rid of his cows, peacocks, shop, farm, cats, dog, even the turkey (who has been camped out on the hood of his pick-up truck waiting for him to get back) Everything must go. At the end of your life why did you work so hard to collect things? You should have been collecting memories.

LA has played a trick on me, it got me thinking that I am a less than person with my less than car and my second hand clothes. That I need a house with a pool. That I need fancy meals and fancy friends.

Today made me want to hug my parents, forgive my enemies, tell swoon I love every inch of his 6'5 self with all of my heart. It made me want to walk my dog, see the world, and relish in this awesome adventure called life. It did not make me want to drive a bmw. It didn't make me want to buy designer clothes. It did not make me want anything but to live my life completely full out and fearless.

People die. Unexpectedly.

So, start collecting love + memories and worry less about whatever new, hot thing that is being thrown in your face.

I know I am not making sense.
Just I love you.
I'm sad.
I wish I had the ability to tell people how much they mean to me before I can't say those things anymore.

ox

BUZZNET

The amazingness that is Kate Cordova followed me around all day so that I could give Buzznet a peak into what my life is like. My life is Diet Coke, HOBO in the front seat, auditions, interviews, managers, and a million meetings about my book-turned-tv-series. BAN.AN.AS!!

I am passionate about so many things that sometimes it gets me in trouble. I never have enough time to do everything. I also have a very ginormas forehead which bugs me. I guess the thing no one ever tells you about having your dreams come true is how much work is involved. I need a nap! I am so excited about all the art I am creating and totally thankful that I get to live my dreams.

In part one: shopping for a dress for the Mr. Popper's Penguin Premiere, pick up a script from my manager, and trying diet coke with lime (yuck!)

CLICK RIGHT HERE to watch the video!

matt nathanson. le sigh.

awwwwww crap.





i might be fake in love with the fake version of him I created in my head, again.

le sigh.

hey weird girl!

Your guts are your guts and when they talk to you, you should listen.

There are so few things in the world that are REALLY yours, your skin, your hair, your underwear. Most of us rent shelter, have car payments and eat food prepared by someone else. Really, your feelings have to be one of your most prized possessions.

Sometimes my feelings make me act like a whiny little baby.
Sometimes my feelings get me so high that I cannot help but skip, sing at the top of my lungs and drink 14 diet cokes in one day.

Feelings are hard to understand but I always try to remember this:

(IF I have had enough sleep...because me without sleep is the exception to this rule)

If there wasn't a reason to feel hurt, you wouldn't feel hurt.
If there wasn't a reason to feel weird, you wouldn't feel weird.

These questions should not be allowed:
"should I be feeling this way?"
"am I just being stupid?"

What you feel is really in essence, who you are. So, just know that whatever happiness or loneliness you are feeling right now is preparing you for something really important. We have to believe that. You kinda have to be able to look at life and acknowledge all the good stuff, all the messy stuff and all the weird stuff and somehow sort out that you still actually like yourself and that your entire life is not a tragic waste. There is no reason to ever feel "weird" because if you are feeling then you are living!

In was reading “Don’t Sleep with your Drummer” by Jen Sincero last week and she had the best line. “ Being in denial is a lot harder when someone else has witnessed the truth” SO true right? I’ve been in that situation so many times. Especially in relationships. People would (most spagatti) tell me that someone was bad news and I would choose not to admit it. My guts knew it. The girls he had invited on the tour bus and impress with “she’s not my girlfriend” lines knew it. But, I wanted to stay in denial. It is a much safer place to stay. We work so hard to create these picture perfect magical lives and when they do not turn out the way we think they should, and after SO much work, it is really hard to throw in the towel and admit defeat. Sometimes for me, it was a mix of wanting things to work and not wanting to fail at something. It’s really hard to be bad at love. Movies and tv shows make love look pretty easy, most of my friends have found totally contented love that thrives. It is embarrassing to me to fail once, at anything. I failed more than two hands can hold at love. Sometimes, even when you know things are not working you do not want to admit defeat.

But Jenn is right.

You cannot deny something when everyone else has already seen the truth!

temporary bliss.

someone once said to me. Do not fret, this is only temporary. I think this is the single best piece of advice I have gotten all year. I get so passionate and emotional so much of the time. Little insignificant things will fill up my Psyche and I will obsess over them until the point of tears. I swear if I have a nickel for all the times I was convinced the world was ending I would be driving a way sweeter car. I think myself into these bubbles and have a really hard time understanding that everything in life is only temporary.
The way we feel.
Our surroundings.
Our situations.

It really is a new day at each and every sunrise.

That friend that hates you right now.
That boy who has no idea you are alive.
That empty wallet of yours

Is only temporary! Doesn’t that make it so much better!?

Carpe the hell out of that diem!

sometimes it seems like people who are mean, rude, and act out seem to win. I hate karma for working that way. we all have to believe that it is only temporary. everyone is watching them because they are pulling focus. no one is watching them act that way and then actually liking them. At the end of it all, are they really ahead?

no.

stay strong army. fight the good fight.

thanks universe.

I started dancing when I was 3 years old. It was the only thing I really ever did growing up. I got to the point where I was supposed to decide what I was going to do with my life and it made sense to pick dancing. After all, I had worked for years at it. So, I forged out on this career and have fought tooth and nail for all of it. Every single day of my career have worked my butt off forcing fate.

Next story-
A few years ago I got my heart broken and I started writing. I just wrote because I wanted to, whenever I wanted to. Eventually, I finished writing and decided I would put out the book I had made. It all came from love. There was no tooth and nail. It was a very natural (*although sometimes heartbreaking) process. Eventually, the book ended up in the hands of some really nice people and since that day my job has been to go around and talk to people about my story, my heart and the things that make me tick. I don't have to wear padded bras or transform myself into "hotter" "more commerical" version of myself for these meetings. I usually roll into them in an old tee-shirt and my boots. I don't think that in this world I get to ever pop open the champange and celebrate but some really mind blowing, amazing things have happened in the past few months.

Here is my thought. Sometimes we need to sit back and realize that the things was WANT to make happen are not always our destiny. You can push and push and push, but the universe (god, the heavens- whatever you call it) has a pretty clear path mapped out for you. Sometimes we are trying so hard to make something happen that we pass by what it so naturally put in front of us.

I bet if you stopped crushing on that total jerkface there would be a nice guy around for you, just saying.
I bet if you just looked like you, and spoke your mind that people would listen.

Listen to what the universe is telling you!

meet my honeys, honeyhoney.

I have very good news.

I cannot tell you that news so I have to tell you some other good news.

When you go see CP on tour this summer you will also get to see one of my favorite live bands ever, HoneyHoney. I met them last year at sxsw and have been a super fan ever since. They are insanely good humans + put on a drag down, sexy town show.

Get into it!

“So it’s not gonna be easy. It’s gonna be really hard. We’re gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, for ever, you and me, every day.”

-The Notebook.

I used to think that love was about seeing someone you thought was delicious and then letting them know your insides and kissing and holding hands. I am sure all of that is true, but I now know that love is about waking up each day and making a choice to live for someone and to put effort into loving them. You have to show them that love and making the time to show them your heart, not just in the beginning, but everyday.

Love is about being close to someone when they are right, being selfless when they are wrong. Loving their ideals and what makes them tick. Loving the way a look from them can calm your constantly ragging guts.

Usually, at weddings when the bouquet toss happens I stand in the back avoiding being the person to catch it. I've always been afraid that it would end up in my hands.
Last night I stood in the front because I wanted it to be me.

I wanted to be next.
I wanted us to be true.
I want you.

a million years could pass and that little house on the hill with you and her inside will never feel better in my guts. I could get married, get swept away, get his name, get the love I deserve and it still wouldn't be enough.

I wish that happiness could erase old hurt the way old hurt obliterates knowing better.

Last night I was going to run.
swearsies.
I read this.
This morning I woke up so glad I had stayed.



"He’s not perfect. You aren’t either, and the two of you will never be perfect. But if he can make you laugh at least once, causes you to think twice, and if he admits to being human and making mistakes, hold on to him and give him the most you can. He isn’t going to quote poetry, he’s not thinking about you every moment, but he will give you a part of him that he knows you could break.

Don’t hurt him, don’t change him, and don’t expect more than he can give. Don’t analyze. Smile when he makes you happy, yell when he makes you mad, and miss him when he’s not there. Love hard when there is love to be had. Because perfect guys don’t exist, but there’s always one guy that is perfect for you."

— Bob Marley

New! New! New!

I've been writing my tail off + couldn't be prouder that I can announce that I have officially finished the homework my mangers gave me. Tomorrow I am meeting with the amazing people who made 2 1/2 men (again) because they want me to meet the guy who wrote "Wonder Years". There are some things I wish were different sure, but instead of complaining I am reveling in the blessings my hard work have given me. Slowly, I am going to share bits and pieces + promise to keep you updated on what is happening. Thanks for hanging in with me. I love your guts.



New Work!

Every single night before I went to bed I would do three things in this order:

I would ice every single fiber of my body that was sore. First my feet and ankles, then my shoulders and lastly my hips. Twenty minutes each part.

Next, I would go to the bathroom and start tearing away the hockey tape I had used to cover my blisters all day. Once my feet were tape free I would sit on the toilet holding a tissue between my legs hoping to catch some of my magical foot salvation. I would then take the tissue I had just peed on and prop my feet up on the sink and carefully cover each of my blisters with my own urine. This I found was the magical cure for open sores. There was nothing that could heal a blister faster than this. Once the pee had semi-dried, I would hobble into bed. I slept with the urine on my feet all night long so that hopefully in the morning my feet would be slightly less raw and sore. There were so many things to worry about during rehearsals and there was absolutely no compassion given to blistered feet. It wasn’t
that we were going to be able to NOT get blisters, it was how many, which toe and were they infected yet? We had an entire team of physical therapists who treated our feet. I once had a blister that was so bad it would hang like a lip over the back on my tap shoe, when they finally took me to the doctor they lanced it off to reveal a nasty infection coming from the blister underneath that blister. Even my blisters were blistered.

The last thing I would do before I went to sleep at night would be to plan my escape. I would make a mental list of all of the reasons that I could pack up my bags and go away from all of this insane pressure. In my head I would make plans to take what was left of my savings and buy a one way ticket to Paris, Prince Rupert or Greenland and become a Starbucks barista. Sure they had to deal with people asking for triple venti skinny one shot mochas but at least they didn’t have to sleep with their own pee on their blistered feet.
I would plan to skip work, skip brushing my teeth and skip being polite. I played out what it would feel like to show up at rehearsals late the next day and start yelling at people, just showing up without my tap shoes on and just start screaming all the ways that everything about this process ruined my soul. That there was no reason to be hard on us, couldn’t they see we were all trying so hard inside each moment! Did they know that at the end of the day we all had tears running down our cheeks? This was my childhood dream! I had missed out on proms, parties, and Friday nights my entire life for this! This was supposed to feel magical, like watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving day parade on repeat! This was Christmas for heaven sake. We were ambassadors for the most wonderful time of the year! All the girls and even Santa himself would look at me in shock and awe and then band together and we would all run off to Greenland together, free from the pressures of getting exactly what we wanted and not wanting it at all.

But that never happened. Somewhere inside my fantastic escape plan I would find sleep. The next morning my alarm would ring. I would get up, put on my tights and tap shoes and become the lines fearless leader for another 8 hours.

-RRR 2.0