Author: Stephanie Amadeus

I sat in line and auditioned for The Voice

Posted on by Stephanie Amadeus

Well, that happened!

One minute — or rather, several hours — I’m sitting in a room with a bunch of singing, happy, crazy, kooky, focused music lovers all hoping to be the next big talent on The Voice.

Then I sang! I sang a whole verse and a chorus.

Then I walked out, and I went home.

And that was it.

Several hours led up to one final moment that felt, well, anticlimactic.

But, hey, at least I can say I did it. And the experience was not what I expected at all.

 

When I signed up for The Voice auditions, I was given a time to come in. It was sometime in the early morning. I had to leave San Diego at the crack of dawn and drive right up there. I was SO scared that I was going to miss my time slot because the traffic was horrendous (thanks, LA!). However, once I finally found the spot, hastily parked my car, ran to the elevator, and inched closer to the top floor, what I found was an empty marquee outside of the building where hopefuls were sitting inside, waiting.

“I’m here for the 9:10 am, Group A? Can I go in this way?” I asked the security outside.

“Absolutely! Walk through the ropes and head in to check in.”

The ropes were empty! What was that about? I stepped inside and a large room with tables on one end of it was next. There were lines roped off in front of the tables, and no one was in line.

“Right this way” Another security told me, after she took a quick peak inside my purse.

I walked down the long and empty room and chose a table. The lady greeted me with a smile, scanned my ticket into the audition, and had me proceed into a hallway and into a next room.

Now this room. This is where they were keeping all of the people!

We were all lined up in chairs, about 20 or so to a row. They counted us out and had us seated immediately. This waiting area was STAGE ONE, as we all started to call it. Some of the “professionals” who had done this rodeo once or twice before, were letting us rookies know how it goes. “Oh, there will be another waiting area. They aren’t taking us in after this.”

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Okay, so here goes. I have to hurry up and wait. I brought snacks (white chocolate potato chips, to be exact!), water, and my iPad. But I forgot my headphones, so it was all silent apps and games for me. What felt like maybe an hour and half had passed, and they started picking up rows. Row by row they told people to stand, and row by row they disappeared into the next stage.

STAGE TWO.

Finally! Our row was ushered down a hallway and placed into a MUCH, BIGGER ROOM. A HUGE, INTENSE ROOM. FILLED TO THE BRIM WITH PEOPLE. There must have been over 1,000 people in this room alone. It was much louder than the previous room and it was much more intense. I could tell we would be waiting here for quite some time. There was a snack line in the corner that sold sandwiches, chips, coffee, water. I bought another water bottle and sat back down. I was now sitting next to a lovely, thin, and fashionable brunette who was in love with Grace Potter, and a young girl with small black braids who was with her mother. She was extremely quiet and seemed to hide herself behind her eyeglasses.

We all took turns talking about music, testing our audition song choices with others, listening to people sing. There were a few instruments, and a few singalongs erupted as a result. But for the most part, I sat still, checked my iPad, freaked out over my song choice, checked my iPad again, double checked the lyrics of my song choice so that I would not forget them, and then checked my makeup because oh yeah, I forgot I was wearing that and I am pretty sure I wiped my eyes about a million times right now!

This room was the worst.

At first it was really fun. Everybody was so excited! It felt like we were ALL going to be on the voice. Only a few people truly seemed nervous, at least in the group that I was surrounded by. Voices sang out loudly and clearly, filling up almost half the room with boasting renditions of Sia and Etta James alike. We took our photos next to huge The Voice posters. We people watched and even witnessed a girl who seemed to be on all sorts of adrenaline, dancing and frollicking around the entire room.

Then, an hour passed. And another. And another.

Now, those same boasting voices were ringing in my ears. Their notes intertwined with the people singing on the other side of the room, creating creepy and eerie dissonance that was slowly driving me mad. People kept asking me questions that I did not know the answer to. “Do you think they forgot about us?” “Do you think the producers went to lunch?” “Is Adam Levine here?” The frolicking girl was now full on raging, and had to be controlled by one of the shepherds of these musical sheep.

And then, as if the moment would never truly come, our rows were being selected. They lined us up at the back of the room in groups of ten. We stood there, all giddy and restless as we realized what was next! The next step was the producers! We were going to sing for The Voice!

Our groups of ten were marched down hallways, up stairs, around corners, and each was stopped outside of a small room. They gave us the rundown before we entered, and then when we walked in, we were left on our own. It was quiet and dark, and the chairs that we were to sit in and the spot that we were to stand at seemed hellishly far from the producer we were singing for. Five chairs on the left. Five chairs on the right. A few chairs in the back for parents. And a producer sitting all the way on the other side of the room staring at a laptop. That was it.

We were not asked anything about ourselves. Simply instructed to step onto the mark when our name was called and tell him what song we would be singing.

The shy girl with the glasses suddenly went into a soulful and stirring rendition of an Etta James’ song. She seemed to channel the soul of the songstress herself as she sung this piece well beyond her year.

The fashionable brunette did an energetic performance of a Grace Potter song, complete with her own flair and movement and bounce as she had fun with it.

One hopeful sang a traditional song in Chinese.

A skinny blonde with a hip t-shirt announced that she had just become a US citizen, and then sang Lady Marmalade.

It was my turn. I announced that I was singing “I Won’t Give Up” by Jason Mraz. I started off slow and low, trying my best to use my lower alto register to feature the tones of my voice. Then I took it up an octave and belted the chorus with what I hoped was fervor and passion fueling my notes.

After everyone sang, the producer asked Lady Marmalade to stay and sing another song, then he said to the rest of us, “Okay everyone, thank you so much, keep working on your craft and I hope you have a good day.”

It felt like it had only taken us five minutes to do all of that. I’m sure it was more, but in a sudden rush, it was over. Several hours for fifteen minutes or so.

We all looked just as confused as we exited. Some people immediately left and headed towards the parking garage downstairs. Some of us mumbled, “Wait, that’s it?” “So, we didn’t get it?” “So, is she going to be on the show?” “Will anyone contact us later?” More questions I did not know the answer to.

At first I felt upset. But then I reminded myself that I finally took this experience, and it was unlike any other experience I would ever have while auditioning for something. And if I can audition for The Voice and still feel like a great singer, then I can tackle a musical theater audition in San Diego, or a karaoke contest at my favorite local bar. I had sat through hours of the worst audition torture — anything after this should be a piece of cake.

But — I will never do it again. I don’t think I need to repeat that experience to get the full benefit of it. And I don’t think I’d ever win the lottery that is auditioning for The Voice.

But hey, I did it! And though it was tedious, it was fun.

15. Audition for a national talent show.

 

You Could Be Happy. Today.

Posted on by Stephanie Amadeus

One year and five months ago, I thought I would never be happy. I felt a loss that I never even knew was possible: the loss of “true love”. I remember growing up with overly emotional friends who swore on their entire lives that their significant other was “The One”, and when those relationships ended they went about their daily lives as if nothing truly mattered anymore. And while I was always a good shoulder to cry on, I wasn’t entirely sympathetic. I thought it was weak to put your happiness in the hands of another like that. It’s just a relationship, I thought. They’ll move on. I’ll never find myself in that situation.

Fast forward over ten years later, and there I was, sobbing into my pillow. My cell phone still in my hand, my fingers clinching it as if it was my very life force. I kept re-reading the texts — yes, texts! — over and over again. “I don’t want to be with you anymore. I’m with someone new.” And I kept repeating the same thing to myself, like a new mantra for my new single life: I will never be happy. I just lost my true love. I will never be happy.

I was right in that same place that I judged so many years before. I now understood how others felt when their relationships crashed right at their feet.

Even though I could relate, I still knew that I couldn’t put the blame entirely on the person who had broken my heart. I knew that I needed to find happiness on my own. I needed this like I needed air to breathe and water to drink and goals in life. Happiness needed to be a very important point on my agenda, and I needed to make this my priority, stat.

And at first, it was extremely difficult. I was so unhappy, I didn’t care about my appearance anymore. I looked like the breakup victim of a sappy rom-com, minus the whimsical happy ending or the serendipitous encounter with someone who would prove to be my saving grace, my prince charming to pull me out of my fog. No, this wasn’t a movie. This was just my life. My messy hair, dirty t-shirt, same socks from yesterday, old fast food bags strewn across my bedroom and my car, life. And no one was going to magically come and save me from it.

And no one was going to magically come and save me from it…..except myself.

It didn’t happen overnight. I remember glancing in the mirror one day and not recognizing myself. I had always heard this expression, but I never knew how true it could be until I was the one standing in front of my reflection, mouth turned up in horror. Gross! Who was this person? When did I get such huge bags under my eyes? Why was there a piece of paper in my hair? What was I doing? 

I started with the simplest part: my looks. I pouted my lips and put on a little lipstick. I added mascara to my teeny tiny lashes. I instantly felt better. And more importantly, I felt better for myself. I wasn’t primping for another terrible first date. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. I just wanted to look at myself and feel better. Before I knew it, I was doing more. I was washing my clothes and setting out nice outfits. I was looking forward to the next day. I started getting up earlier and taking long slow sips of coffee as I sat at my desk, reflecting on all of the things I was going to accomplish that day.

Happy New Year! Had it already been four months since the dreaded breakup? I had to pinch myself. It seemed just yesterday that I was staining my pillows with salty tears and cruddy mascara. Now I was planning a New Year’s Eve party with my friends. I poured my heart into every little detail, because it made me giddy to think of how well the party plans were coming together.

I am not usually one for resolutions, but I could feel such positive change happening in me, and I didn’t want to lose that flame. I wanted to feed it and fuel it into a bright and passionate fire. So I made a very simple resolution that New Years: simply say yes more. Say yes to good things in life. Not for anyone else, but for myself.

The first thing I said “Yes” to was a trip to New York City. I had to use one of my credit cards to pay for part of the trip, but the rest I saved myself and a few short months later, I stood at the top of the Empire State Building and realized that I was seeing one of my dreams come to fruition. I had achieved this all on my own. And somehow, that made the dream taste even sweeter.

Summer came. The longer days and sunny skies made me feel a bit forlorn. I was doing a lot better post-breakup, but I was still very far from being happy on my own. I reflected on this, a lot, and decided to use my reflection for good. I could either sit around wishing I had someone to spend the sunny days with, wishing I had a partner to take silly bike rides with along the pier; wishing I had an adventurous love who wanted to try several new types of sushi at a hip restaurant on a balmy night, or I could wish I had a relaxing soul to sit with on my porch, staring out at the long and slow sunsets of San Diego; or … I could do those things anyway. Did I need someone to be with me in order to enjoy the summer sun? Did I need someone in order to feel happiness during what is possibly the most happiest time of the year?

One day after work, I sat in traffic on my way home. The same traffic I always sat in when I left work. The longer days made it seem surreal as cars honked and buzzed around one another, all in a rush to get nowhere fast. I glanced up ahead and saw the exit signs for Mission Bay. I realized something suddenly: everyday I took the same path home from work, and everyday I passed a place that many people come to visit for vacation, without even a second glance. And here I was sitting in traffic, again. Not today.

I veered my car off to the right and exited the busy highway. And then I pulled into Mission Bay, and I walked along the waterfront park. I found a spot on a bench and I pulled out a pen and a small amount of paper that I had found in my car. I started writing. I didn’t even know what I wanted to write, and it didn’t matter. Before long, I found myself writing why it was so important for me to be happy. Not to just try to be happy. But to want it, too.

I teetered like this for several months. I spent time reflecting alone with myself and my thoughts, no matter how deep or dark or scary those thoughts could get. I faced them in silent reverie. I armed myself with my optimism as my shield and my recent experiences as my sword and I faced my thoughts like mini battles with my psyche. When I wasn’t doing that, I was still saying “yes” to things that would make me happy. Yes, I will go to Vegas this weekend! Yes, I will attend that live music show. Yes, I’ll try out this first date.

Yes, I will make sure that I am happy. Yes, I will take responsibility for that, all on my own. Yes, I can do this.

One year and five months ago, I thought I would never be happy. But here I am, one year and five months later, smiling for no reason at all, invigorated with all the possibilities, at all of the things that I can say yes to, inspired by all of the reflections of the world around me, and hopeful that I can achieve anything, as long as I believe in myself. It might sound like the last cheesy lines of a fable or fairy tale, but the truth is a lot less magical than it all seems. In a fairy tale, someone comes along and they save you, instantly. What they never tell you is that in real life, it might take time. It might take one year and five months. And in real life, it’s up to you to save yourself. And yes, you can absolutely do that. Why not start … today?

4. Stand in the middle of Times Square

Posted on by Stephanie Amadeus

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Well I did it! This was originally going to be one of the last things I completed on my 30 Before 30 list, because I don’t travel often. But when the universe throws you some really huge clues to get on the ball and get out there and make it happen, you make it happen! And that’s exactly what I did, and it was so serendipitous, I think the universe actually aligned in order for me to make it to the Big Apple.

I wasn’t going to go to New York this year, mainly because I assumed I could not afford it. And while that is mostly true, I forgot about how you can make something happen if you just focus on it enough. It seems impossible one day, and then the next day, you’re on a train riding through the eastern United States on your way to Manhattan for the first time.

My friends approached me, around October 2013, about going to New York City. They were planning to attend a wedding in Washington DC and wanted to take a train to NYC once the wedding festivities were over; and I went along for the ride. But when they had first approached me, I immediately said “no.” I knew I wouldn’t be able to afford something like this for a very long time.

Then the holidays came, and I stressed over buying Christmas gifts while simultaneously and periodically checking my bank account as if money would just magically appear. I had been so stressed about presents that I failed to realize something: my bank had given me a credit increase on my credit line of $1000.

One. Thousand. Dollars. Imagine what someone could get done with that kind of money!

Though I use the term “money” loosely. I knew what it truly translated to was not a dollar sign but debt. But I thought about it for a good week or so and realized: New York City was worth the debt. So I finished up my Christmas shopping with ease and then I spent the rest of that “credit” on my flight to Washington DC and then returning home to San Diego, CA.

And I regret nothing!

New York City was, in many ways, exactly how I expected it to be. And then in other ways, nothing how I had imagined it at all. A few friends warned me that this city would wear me down over time. That the hustle and bustle and energy of the city was too much for a non-native to handle for extended periods of time. But I knew in my heart that New York was a part of me. Everything I had ever learned about New York City, everything I had ever read about what to expect, or anytime I had watched a movie or a television show based around the culture of this iconic city, I knew one simple thing: I knew I belonged there!

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Just look at that metal grate. She looks like she’s in a fancy 100-story prison!

My friends and I took turns seeking out our favorite spots and landmarks while in the Big Apple. Some of them we all agreed on: The Empire State building was a must (though I have to admit, I’m not sure why Dr. Mindy Lahiri loves it so much — it was iconic, sure, but beautiful? Well I thought it was a bit rough around the edges.); Central Park was a delightful distraction for one day, and the Statue of Liberty was definitely on all of our must-see lists.

Times Square turned out to be the very first thing we did there, our very first night in New York City.

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I’m glad that we got it out-of-the-way first, because that was the part of the trip I didn’t expect. It was marvelous and iconic and beautiful, but it was also industrial and heavily marketed and flooded with both tourists and busy business goers on their way home perhaps after working in one of those lit-up buildings. It was seething with people who were snapping photos with loved ones or grumbling under their breath about how they hated Times Square and weren’t sure exactly why they decided to walk through it that night.

My guess? No matter how much a native might “hate” it, they know it’s still a part of their striking city. And that in itself makes it something they secretly cannot do without.

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This Coney Island Mermaid Pilsner is now my favorite beer ever. Which is big, considering I don’t really drink beer.

I spent the rest of my trip taking in the atmosphere of New York, from eating at the Spotted Pig to bar hopping with hipsters in Greenwich Village, to sipping on a Coney Island beer at The White Horse Tavern. I relished in my conversations with New Yorkers — who were mostly transplants to the city but still called this hectic place home. I met business owners and bartenders, Brazilian tourists with fancy cigarettes and Broadway babies who frequented cabaret bars. I bumped into celebrities walking their dogs on midnight strolls and I ordered food at a restaurant where I could not pronounce anything on the menu. To say that this trip was glorious, would be an understatement.

I know New York won’t always be so impressive to me. I was starstruck during my four days there, and some of the glitz and appeal might wear off if I ever lived there someday. But despite that, I knew, from the moment I stood in that brightly lit, bustling square in the heart of Lower Manhattan, that I was in my element. New York City was my happy place.

And as for my 30 Before 30 List? I’ve never felt so much more invigorated before. One down, a few more to go.

4. Stand in the middle of Times Square

Rooftop Bar Ganzevoort in NYC. I had just finished talking with some Brazilians were offered me a sleek cigarette from Brazil. (I admit, I couldn’t say no!)
The view from Liberty Island was unreal.
Me and my friends Cenit and Jari.
Hello Lady Liberty!
We showed up wearing the same outfit. But we both rocked it.
I’m now a pizza fan, thanks to NYC.
Thoughts

A Letter to a Slightly Anonymous Atheist

Image | Posted on by Stephanie Amadeus

I was perusing Humans of New York on Facebook today when I came upon this:

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The best part of this HONY share was the comment to the man’s story. The first comment, written by Nik Hansen, reads:

“I’m an atheist, but it makes me sad that he had to start his story with a disclaimer like this. It’s important that in our efforts to promote tolerance we don’t shut down the dialog that makes that tolerance necessary. I don’t need to believe in God myself to appreciate the positive impact faith can have on people’s lives.”

One of the hardest things I struggle with as an individual is why people of different faiths can’t get along (because let me tell you, we really should be able to.) Just like with other forms of discrimination, people who discriminate against any religious belief are holding back society.

Atheists are faced with religious folk who think they are bad, evil, or terrible people because they don’t believe in God; and Christian/monotheistic people are faced with those who immediately think they are delusional, crazy, overbearing, etc. (And that’s only two examples, of course. I recognize that it definitely happens with other beliefs as well.)

We should be able to believe what we believe, and not be faced with such prejudice, as long as we are making a positive impact in our life and in the lives of others. Whenever I see people on my Facebook feed bashing Christianity, it makes me feel sad for those individuals at my church who spend so much time helping others and never judging; accepting all walks of life, faith, sexual orientation, race, and background.

And whenever I see Christian believers bashing a life perspective that they are unfamiliar with, it makes me sad that they are ultimately making all Christian believers look completely prejudicial, racist, and/or intolerant. They hide behind religion like a mask, because they’re afraid to say the truth: that they are simply racist. Or they are simply intolerant.

Christianity never, not even once, had anything to do with being racist, being intolerant, oppressing people, or opposing others. Yes, there are some guidelines, but none of them had to do with forcing others to do something you think they should be doing.

Religion in general has to do with yourself. Looking inside and deciding what you should be doing. (Spoiler alert: the answer is helping others, regardless of who they are!)

So I just want to say thank you, random Atheist and awesome person of Facebook. I’m not atheist, but I completely understand someone who is, because I’ve been there once before. It’s not easy to decide what life means, and no one person, no one religion, no one belief system can really decide that for everyone as a whole. But that’s another aspect of what makes us all different, as humans, and you’re right: we should be able to communicate with each other about that without feeling the need to jump to judgement.

So thank you for your wise words. You have made a Christian woman very happy today.

Glitz and glam and wonder and excitement and independence!

Posted on by Stephanie Amadeus

Today is Monday! But before it, came Sunday. And no, this isn’t the backwards version of Rebecca Black’s infamous song. My point is, I like to relax on Sundays and enjoy my alone time. It has become a ritual of sorts, to the point where I will hole myself up in my room and not talk to anyone face to face for most of the day.

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Yesterday, I had a great conversation via instant messenger (yes, I still use it) with a friend of mine during this downtime. I was in my room holed up alone, with nothing but my thoughts and my heavy metal Spotify radio station searing in the background. I began to discuss where I was a year ago with this friend. And I realized, I’ve been in the same exact spot for two years in a row.

This time last year, I was on a temporary split from my now ex-boyfriend. And when the New Year came along, I told myself that I was fine and I put on a brave face, only to lose it all in a frenzy of tears in the bathroom. The ball had dropped and I looked around and realized everyone had someone, except for me.

This year, I’m in the same place but I’m not in the same state. I am now permanently split from said ex, but I’m not regretting it this time. I’m not hung up on what ifs and what could bes, and I’m not depressed that I am alone.

Because as I said, every Sunday, I enjoy and relish in my alone time.

This epiphany made me want to look forward to the New Year. This year, I can already tell that I’m in a much different mindset. It’s so easy to pretend to be happy, but it’s not easy to lie to yourself. That’s why a mere facade will wash away as quick as a leaf in a river. 

This year there is no facade. I want to focus on New Years with the appropriate enthusiasm of a 20-something year old with so much ahead of her. My friends and I are even planning to throw a party, and the mere thought of it brings a wild inspiration to my heart.

An inspiration I never would have felt last year. And yet, last year I was in the same place.

It’s amazing what your mindset can do to a situation. I can use my emotions to drown out my future endeavors and focus on the negative, or I can use them to create my own inspirational visions.

I choose the visionary route. And what a better way to kick off 2014 than by crossing something off of my 30 before 30 list:

21. Throw a fabulous party!

 

Keep checking back for updates on this party. It’s going to be glitz and glam and wonder and excitement and independence — all of the feelings that I was missing out on last year.

I won’t be missing them this year.

I let in love over hate

Posted on by Stephanie Amadeus

UntitledI feel a bit chagrin right now. I found the Twitter profile of the girl that my ex left me for. I decided to do what everyone does on the internet and poke around a little. Or at least, I am telling myself that everyone does this, because I obviously could not fight the urge. I was curious to know how this girl felt around the time that my ex left me for her.

I found out she called me a ‘Stalker’ because I went to the same event that my ex had attended. The funny part is — the event was hosted by my friends. She also boasted about how she wanted to punch me so badly, despite the fact that I’ve never even spoken to her before. She spent a few more characters in her Twitter world talking about me, ironically telling the Internet that I should ‘get a life’ and ‘learn to take a clue’. Ironic because she was spending so much of her life hung up on a girl who didn’t even look in her direction that night. Someone she had never even said “Hello” to.

I didn’t do anything else except close the browser and learn my lesson: to not spend time worrying about what other people think or say about you. Especially if that person is supporting and dating someone who constantly lied to you and treated you like crap. To constantly surround myself with unhealthy people would be happiness suicide, and I realized that maybe that’s why my ex was with her now. They both seemed to be hung up on the negative in life. They both have violent tendencies. They both let in hate before they let in love.

I’ll admit, I wanted to give her a few choice words. I wished I could tell her, to her face, “You know what’s fun? Sloppy seconds. Have fun, bitch!” But of course, I didn’t say anything. What would be the point? I would look like those girls on Instagram who are constantly posting pictures and quotes about “killing hoes” or other slogans they derived from hip hop songs about how all girls want to steal their man. Any response would come off as self-centered and conceited on my part, especially since I am no longer with the guy in the middle of all of this. Basically…saying anything in retaliation to such pettiness would only make me just as petty.

I’m only human, so saying that these kind of things don’t hurt me would be a bold-faced lie. But do I need to let it ruin my day or even the next five minutes of my life? I don’t think so! Sometimes, girl friends will make you feel better by saying, “Well, you’re prettier than her” or “You’re way smarter than her.” But you know what’s truly important? I have a bigger heart than she does.

I let in love before I let in hate.

Violence and calling people names is beneath me, even for people I don’t like. An argument was rarely won by slinging around insults, and a point was rarely made with dirty name calling. The only thing I can do in this life is stay true to myself, and doing that has made me feel so much better than any vindictive, jealous, or downright petty comment ever could.

It also made me realize something very important. When I split from my ex, I decided not to love for awhile. I decided that love was too difficult and not worth the risk of enduring a broken heart. I was told by friends and family that my big heart can be a blessing but also a weakness if I let others take advantage of it. I vowed to think twice before using my heart to love others.

And while I do agree with them in some context, I also see my big heart in a different light now. I see the other end of the spectrum: dark and full of hate for people that one doesn’t even know. And I realize I’m different, because I let that love in.

So I need to continue to do that. I need to stay true to myself. I need to remind myself that a broken heart does not change who I am. I don’t want to be a bitter girl hurling insults because I’m afraid or jealous of others. I don’t want to let hate in. I always want to let love in.

Fearless

Posted on by Stephanie Amadeus

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I watched Insidious (Chapter 1) today and I felt very proud of myself. One of my biggest fears is that unknown depth that could or could not come from death. It’s almost ironic to be afraid of dying, because I find myself preoccupied with my “second life” before I’ve even given myself the chance to live the first! Or maybe there isn’t a second one at all? Death is a mystery that I am not excited to solve.

But to fear it is something else entirely. I’ve been working on this fear over the past year because I know I want to live my life to the fullest from beginning to end, no matter what that end may be. The mere thought tends to make my mind race and my heart overload, but I’ve finally gotten to the point where watching a scary movie about that very thing (sort of — no spoilers here I promise), makes me feel excited, not terrified.

Excited, because I am reminding myself that it’s just a movie for sheer entertainment, and boy was I entertained.

I have a few fears: thanatophobia (the fear of death) and arachnophobia. But I think fears can make us healthy, if we learn how to deal with them. I have a theory that those who claim to have no fears are actually afraid of their own fearlessness. Fear can remind us to live, because moments are precious. Fear can remind us that we are living. The statement of being “Scared to death” is ironic to me, since I feel that being frightened usually makes one feel very alive — once all is said and done, and you realize you’re completely fine.

Or maybe you’re not completely fine, but you know you will be, or can be. There is an upside to fear, so I have decided not to eradicate mine completely, but to face it from time to time and remind myself that I’m still living.

 

And so, with a very, very cautious (and yes — slightly fearful) heart, I add on to my 30 before 30 list:

20. Face my arachnophobia.

I obviously can’t just go out and face my fear of death, unless I see a classic game of Russian roulette in my future. (Which trust me, I definitely don’t!) But I can start with the other one. I haven’t decided how I will face my fear of spiders, but all I know is one day, I want to be able to say, I confronted a spider and I was not afraid, and mostly importantly — I’m still living!

Expectations vs. Reality

Posted on by Stephanie Amadeus

I had my own 500 Days of Summer moment yesterday and the results were shocking, in the best way possible. If you’re not familiar with the movie, it brilliantly describes love by comparing our own naive and sometimes outlandish expectations with what really occurs. It talks about how we ignore the bad so that we can tell ourselves something is only good.large_500_days_of_summer_blu-ray11

I had one of these moments so hardcore. After years of waiting for that certain someone to finally commit to me, only to find out that he has moved on to someone new (and so quickly!), I decided to do what any sane human would do, and I deleted all of my digital memories of him. Photos on Instagram? Gone. Photo albums on Facebook? Also gone. Deleted from my G Chat, perfect. I remembered how many conversations we had via Facebook messages (over 1,000 messages once I actually went to check them), and before deleting them all, I decided to read them. I expected to see bittersweet memories of what I could have had, if I had only tried harder! Loved harder!

But what I expected was much different than the reality.

What I actually found was conversation after conversation where I put myself on a limb only to be rejected. I found so many times when he passed me over to do something else with his friends. I even found her name — the one he is with now. I feel so dumb for not realizing earlier that I never had him. Even back then, I had already lost him to what he truly wanted.

I thought this realization would make me sad, but it didn’t. After the dumb feeling wore off, this realization enlightened me. It taught me a new lesson. It reminded me that I don’t need to grieve for something I never truly had from the beginning. It reminded me that I didn’t need to feel that I had screwed up or I had prevented something great from happening. Great things and great loves will happen to me. I just have to remind myself to look for the real people who care for me, and not expect it from the fake people who don’t.

At the end of the day, a reality check isn’t such a bad thing. We are given them on a daily basis and they usually end up making us feel like we have egg on our face. I say let those reality checks make you feel stronger. It’s only natural to want life to be a dream, but if you have to wake up, wake up refreshed and ready to take on the next challenge with clarity.

And so I add number 19 to my 30 Before 30 list:

19. Learn to be happy on my own.

Why?

Posted on by Stephanie Amadeus

I created this 30 before 30 list because it’s so easy for me to think that I should give up on all the great things life has to offer. It’s exactly like this quote from Stephen Fry:

 

I think it’s a trap of adolescence and young adulthood. Because let’s face it, young adults are like adolescents who don’t realize they’ve grown up yet. Living life is more than just doing it,it’s a realization that you can. As an adolescent, you can’t. Don’t have money, don’t have permission, don’t have a way to get there or a car to drive. As an adult…what’s stopping you? Probably the same things — but now that you’re older you can do something about those things. No excuses!

 

I will not make excuses for being unhappy. I will not give up. Maybe I’ll take a class or something. And stop listening to such sad music.