Finding My Voice

Hello and welcome to what I hope will be a long journey together.

Nothing about my blog could possibly seem at all genuine if I don't start by revealing a bit about myself.  First of all, my name is actually Kelsey, not Felicity.  I am an actress and a writer.  This blog is me - writing.  This blog is NOT me - acting.  I am not playing a character or dreaming up some issues for you all to relate to.  Anything I write about here actually happened to me.  If I'm sharing something with you that a friend of mine went through instead of me?  Well then I will let you know that upfront.  Obviously, no real names will be used.  But I will tell you this much right away - my boyfriend's name is Sam and he is wonderful.  That's no secret though.  If you ever find me on Facebook, you'll see my relationship status right there.  Plain and simple.  His unparalleled patience and rare ability to love unconditionally is part of the reason I am in the right mind to sit here and start writing all of this for you now.

Let's continue with this full disclosure but this time with a few promises, for better or for worse.  You will not learn how to find an agent in this blog.  I will not be discussing talent workshops or auditions.  (Let's get some free advice out of the way though: Background work is usually horrible and you should never do it unless you're a) really - reallllllly - poor and hungry b) trying to earn your insurance through the union or c) just need to stay busy. Try to take featured parts though. There's at least some acting involved in that. Agents should never ask for money upfront.  Not even to pay some new photographer they're "dying for you to work with."  They only take their percentage when you work.  Anyone else is a scam artist.  And don't ever, ever give another actor acting advice while in rehearsal or ON A SET.  They will probably strangle you.  I might strangle you.  I might find you and strangle you.  #kidding #notreally)

Despite anything else you may have read, I will not be discussing "girl parts" here and you will not learn how to insert a tampon.  We all know that very first one is tough though, little lady gals.  Deep breaths.  I will not be critiquing any make-up products, salon visits, wedding stationery, gel manicures or manicured gels here so if that's your bag, no judgment is being passed.  Those just aren't topics that would ever compel me to write.  I will NEVER be able to add my two cents to that crafty thing you just favorited on Pinterest.  Nothing against the site.  I honestly have nothing to add.  I'm crafty in other ways.  Hopefully that still makes me talented.  Oh please god, say I'm still talented.  (Actress joke. See: Validation (defined).)

This blog is my way of paying things forward.  This is for everyone who's ever been told "You'll see for yourself one day" or "You never know until you know" or "Maybe when you're older, you'll understand."  Well let's fast-forward (or skip scenes, as you young people say).

I want you to know one thing:
There will come a day when a man will hurt you.
GASP.  SHOCK.  AWE. WHAT?!  Yes.  A man will always hurt you.  His action could be as delicate as his "jujjing" of a dress shirt sleeve to reveal his full forearm and a clearer view of his new wrist watch.  I don't know.  For some reason on some particular day, this could set you off and you'll feel...well, hurt.  Or his action could be as strategized (and as awful) as seeking out another woman to take to bed and even expressing the intention to give her children all while you are, as far as you're concerned, actively and happily married.  If you're really lucky, and I don't mean that sarcastically, you could wind up with a really creative type who may actually try to simply love you and then leave you.  The hit-it-and-quit-it con man. But trust me, these men will only make you the STRONGEST version of yourself.  It may sound ridiculous and cliche but believe me, it's true.  How do I know?

I went from a girl who never dated to a girl who dated everyone.
Highschool: never dated.
College:  sorta dated (one person).
Post-college (and, ah-hem, post college boyfriend): dated everyone.

Once that got old, I went from a girl who dated everyone to a girl who dated her date's best friends.  That seemed to be my pattern.  Had you caught me on a double date anytime between 2004 and 2011, I'd be that girl trying desperately to keep her eyes on her date seated next to her when all I wanted to do was stare at the boy across from me.  You know, the one with his arm around another pretty young thing.  Because THAT seems logical.  But what's funny is that actually: it does, from a dreamer's point-of-view.  Think about it.  You're seated next to a guy who rrrrrreally likes you and you already know he does.  He's sitting next to you.  He may even try to put his arm around you - any second.  But that guy across from you who's equally cute, if not cuter, he's staring at you just as intently but he's ACROSS from you (read: Just out of reach. READ: Challenge.)  This was how I thought.  And in an ironic turn of events, the girl who never dated anyone was suddenly dating up a storm and according to her friends, thinking like a man.  It was that "pretty lights syndrome" that got me.  Someone great was inviting me out on a Friday and by Saturday I was hoping that the cute guy I had just passed in the produce aisle would be asking for my number in 3...2...1...  Hey, it wasn't always fool-proof but I had some good years.  I wouldn't say I'm proud of my wishy-washy dating patterns but I certainly wouldn't say I have any regrets either.

But then, suddenly there was: the one. The one man who resurfaced.

We had met several times through an ex-boyfriend.  We sang on a friend's musical soundtrack together.  We drank together.  This ex of mine took me to see plays that "the one" was starring in.  But the two of us had never dated.  One day, he messaged me out of the blue when we had not spoken for three years and over those next few weeks, he managed to confirm all of my fears about the person I was trying to be.  He allowed me to fantasize about something SO seemingly unreachable.  He let me envision a meaningful connection with him - a fulfilling relationship with a man I had first known as a friend of a friend - someone who, popular vote had decided, was always living purely for himself.  With just his simple, continual requests to see me, he may not have known it at first, but he was permitting me to dream up the stage direction for what would eventually become the most frustrating and dissatisfying chase scene of my entire life.  This "one" - he got me.  He not only beat me at my own game but he began a whole new game...a game I never even realized we were playing until it was all over.  Thank goodness I did the necessary work after he checked out & went completely MIA.  That's where anyone who tells you differently is just wrong.  If you let a man like this into your life, readers, there will always be work to do afterwards.  Repairs necessary.  No exceptions (unless of course, you find, one day, that this blog just scared you away from tricky men completely, and if that proves to be the case, then I'm so sorry I made you play it safe.  Safe is usually quite boring.).

He was "the one" - not "my one", that's for sure, but "THE one."  He didn't get away.  He didn't leave me at the altar.  He didn't date my sister.  He didn't even bang my best friend.  He just had everything I thought I wanted and then right when I knew I wanted it (soooo badly) he took it all away.

More about him next time...

Thank you for reading this far.  I promise to reveal more as we move along.