In Defense of the Twilight Saga (note: NO SPOILERS | NO WORRIES)

I did it. I saw it. I experienced the end of an epic saga of teen-paranormal romance that leaves my heart heavy and my inner 13-year-old girl sobbing. But I loved it. And I want to share my philosophy on why it is totally ok that I loved it.

I saw every Twilight movie alone. Not wanting to admit to anyone how much I needed (mind you, neeeeeeded) to see this sparkly-angst-ridden drama unfold on screen, I would get in my car and drive to the theatre in shameful solitude, get my popcorn and sit happily in the middle of a deserted theatre (I usually waited until the hype died down to indulge; much like binge-eating, I prefer to feed my dirty additions in secret). 

This time was different—I went with one of my girlfriends Hollie—the perfect person to watch this kind of movie with, because she sat next to me in silence, enjoying her own private relationship with her own inner 13-year-old-girl, and we never spoke one word to one-another until the film was over. 

I will NOT spoil the movie for you if you have not seen it. But I will say that there is God in Twilight, and I will not waste my time trying to convince you if you are reading my words and experiencing any sort of disdain or judgment in negation of my statements. Because chances are, I lost you at “god”, and believe me—I understand. But I feel compelled to explain my rationale, because in a world so constantly jaded with the Divine—in a world where good intentions and the simplicity of life and love are often grossly misinterpreted, harshly criticized, and scornfully dismissed as “pieces of shit”, I feel it’s my purpose to stand up for guilty pleasures in order to dispel the bullshit of the “guilt”. Guilt is experienced when one has committed an action with the intent to harm. If going to see Twilight makes you feel at all “guilty”, please ask yourself who you intend to hurt by feeding your inner-13-year-old-girl a healthy dose of adolescent charm and fantasy?

Twilight is not a cinematic masterpiece in any way, shape or form. And it is not intended to be. Stephanie Meyer is not the next Pulitzer-prize winning author, and her story can easily be poked fun at and dismissed as sophomoric fluff. But I am an intelligent, sensitive, artistic, intellectual woman who can flirt with James Joyce and Ernest Hemingway just as easily as I can flip through a People magazine. I can go toe-to-toe with the sharpest minds in any subject, so long as I’ve had time to do a little research, and my mercurially fluid grasp on words is just as profound as my deftness with numbers. In a nutshell—I’m Smart. And I…Like…The Twilight Saga. It reminds me of a time when I was not yet a woman, but my budding sense of romance and passion was just starting to form in my chubby flat-chested body. It reminds me of the mystery of being a virgin—the excitement of the prospect of someday having a boyfriend and seeing that boyfriend turn into the great Love of my Life—of living a reality where there was adventure; a Greater Good to align myself with against the forces of Darkness; where I was a warrior Princess fighting for the forces of Light, riding my unicorn bravely against a sea of goblins, brandishing my crystal sword that sparked and crackled with Faerie energy, cutting swaths of purple phantom streaks through the air while casting clouds of electric butterflies in whatever direction I swirled.

Life has a nasty way of taking us away from our inner magic. People mock you, laugh at you, scorn you, strike you, push you away, criticize you, refuse you, and forget you. And somewhere along the way, you forgot the inner Divinity that made you want to heal the world and bring love to your fellow sentient beings. You forgot we’re all just children inside, aching to be seen, innocent and pure. So be mindful when you are reaching for joy, and someone near you is intent on shadowing that joy by picking apart those creative ventures that are meant to inspire and excite. Not everything can be a perfect expression of technical creative genius. And not everything has to be. In nature, art can be as complicated as the intricate weaving of a spider’s web or as simplistic as the color of the sky at dawn. Or twilight. Whichever moves you more ;D

LMP Self-Love Suggestion: Perhaps hold your tongue the next time you mean to speak out negatively against a creative endeavor you find fault with. Unless you were a part of that creative team, your opinion is no one’s business but your own. Why discourage someone from finding their own path toward the Divine? Why take on that responsibility? Perhaps then your own path will clear a bit, and you will find it much easier to make your way towards those things that cast great light in your soul, rather than be weighted down by your fears of what reside in the darkness.  

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The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Part 2 stars Kristen Stewart, Robert Pattinson and Taylor Lautner. Screenplay by Melissa Rosenberg. Directed by Bill Condon. Based on the novels by Stephanie Meyer. Released by Summit Entertainment.

BFF's - a shout-out to Cheryl Cochran :)

I can’t believe I’m blogging so soon! What happened to Little Miss PerFUCT the procrastinator? Little Miss PerFUCT with the Aquarian moon in her chart which makes her so fickle and flighty and inconsistent? Her diligent Virgo sun must be taking over, for she is finally able to get some much-needed writing done! And the topic of today, while still riding the gratitude bandwagon, is BFF’s, or Best Friends Forever.

Cheryl Cochran (formerly Cheryl Sneathern) has been my dear BFF since 1992 when we rode the bus together in 7^th grade. We lived in the same neighborhood, less than a quarter of a mile apart, thus meeting at the intersection daily to walk to the bus stop together, and parting ways at the end of the afternoon to return to our respective homes. It was a time-tested ritual that built a life-long friendship and a kindred soul-connection that moves me to tears as I write this. 

I’ve never been close to women. An endless string of feminine fall-outs, sometimes dramatic and explosive, sometimes poisonously silent and insidious, have plagued me throughout my teens, 20’s, and 30’s. I take full responsibility for being an incredibly difficult person to get close to. I’m frustratingly fickle, hypocritical, judgmental, oblivious, and frequently narcissistic. I’m also forgiving, compassionate, eternally optimistic, wildly enthusiastic, and infinitely loving. My good points will continue to outshine my shortcomings, and yet keeping female friends (not making—I’ve always been a fast and furious friend-maker) has been something that I am often astonished I cannot accomplish. 

Thus begins my tribute to Cheryl Cochran. We have maintained our divine friendship for twenty years and it is still going strong. The reason I had to sit down and blog about her is because she just emailed me the logo for my latest creative venture. Cheryl is an artist; a ridiculously talented visual artist (among other mediums which will soon be released to the world) who creates graphic designs and branding schemes that launch empires. She is launching my empire—a spiritual artistic studio called Create To Heal, which will go public at the start of 2013. Cheryl has designed logos and websites for nearly a decade, working independently and choosing her clients carefully. She created her own design firm, Cheryl Cochran Graphic Design, and was an instrumental part of launching LOFT ensemble, the theatre company I started in 2007. Naturally when I came up with the idea to launch a new creative studio, I called her and asked her to help me visualize my dream by creating a graphic that would help brand and cement this personal venture.  

The moment I opened the finished logo on my iphone, I burst into tears. She had created a graphic that not only encompassed the very essence of my project, she was able to visually manifest my most private internal thought-process. Somehow, through listening patiently to my mid-afternoon-in-the-car-rantings, where I would spout my grandiose visions and opinions about my purpose in the Universe, she was able to channel that ferociously unfocused desire into a poignant and symbolic visual representation of Divine Love.  Because that’s what I am—and that’s what my company is. And because Cheryl herself is a living expression of that Divine Love, with a profound artistic talent that allows her to extend her Love to all those who are privileged enough to cross her path. She is able to take people’s visions and create concrete manifestations, through logo, branding, web representations—you name it. She takes your dreams and makes them possible. She listens to the whisperings and often chaotic ravings of your very soul, and applies pen to paper (or pen to computer screen, when she’s using her Wacom Cintiq) in order to foster your vision from conceptualization to birth.

The logo is exactly what I want. It's whimsical, colorful, and fresh. It's deceivingly hap-hazard, while subtly demonstrating the definitive structured ideas and principles that are easily overlooked by one who does not look closely. The letters form a circle and are individually linked, representing the unbreakable connection we have to one-another. The colors are primary--red, yellow, and blue, but come together in overlap, to demonstrate all the different hues that are possible when these three colors unite. And the shape of the logo, when viewed from an abstract sense, is reminiscent of the shape of the human heart. 

I cannot express more love and admiration for this woman, and being witness to her devotion to her divine marriage (her husband is one of my favorite people on the planet) and her absolutely breathtaking little daughter Stella (her most BRILLIANT artistic creation to date!) has been one of the great joys of my 32 years. I can now say I have known Cheryl for more than half my life. We have fought. We have raged. We have hung up the phone on one-another. We have betrayed one-another. We have taken one-another for granted. We have done all the things imperfect humans do when operating under our most basic lower selves rather than reaching for the divine heights of our soul-Selves. But through it all, we have returned to operating under the frequency of love rather than hate. We have overcome the treacherous pitfalls of feminine jealousy, competition, and control (all manifestations of that basic and deadly emotion Fear) in favor of gentle acceptance of our differences and constant selfless encouragement of one-another to keep going. 

The kind of kinship I have with my BFF is possible for all human beings, if one chooses to follow faith rather than fear. Her ability to forgive my shortcomings, see past the cloudy translucent shower door of my humanity to view the perfection of my Divine Soul-Self, is her ability to see the good in all. And it’s the reason we are still friends. It’s the reason she has become yet again another instrumental part of the next phase of my life in Create To Heal. And it’s the reason I had to sit down at my computer, wipe the mascara running down my cheeks, and tappety-tap away at my keyboard to express my gratitude for what I have. Everyday can be Thanksgiving when I choose to live in my gratitude. So that's what I'm going to do. 
 

Except I won’t stuff my face again like I did yesterday. 

Love you Miss Meryl :D

LMP SELF-LOVE SUGGESTION: Reach out to your BFF today. She's important. She believes in you and she'd love to hear your voice.

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This is Cheryl's design firm:

www.CCGD.com
Cheryl Cochran Graphic Design.
LOGOS | GRAPHIC DESIGN | BRAND CONSULTING | CREATIVE THOUGHT 

Star Waxing

Several years ago, I wrote a monologue about getting a Brazilian bikini wax. It was the writing piece that kicked off many things. First and foremost, it sparked my career as a writer-actress. Before that monologue, I had not performed my own writing much in public. There were a few instances here and there, but it wasn’t until I began a project called The Why Factor, a venue for female writers to have their voices heard, that I was truly able to realize my dream of performing my own work.

It also created a deeper relationship between my acting teacher and me when she directed the monologue for a showcase for her class, thereby offering me insight as to what the monologue truly represented in my life. “Christina, don’t you realize what you’ve written?” she screamed at me from the audience, after a frustrating in-class work session with the piece. “You’re saying you have a more intimate relationship with this woman who waxes your vagina than you do to your own mother! And that's so tragic!” And she was right. That was, in a nutshell, why I was writing the piece, and sometimes it takes an outside perspective to truly open your eyes to what you have created in the throes of your angst-ridden written rantings. (Thanks Susan Giosa) 

So this evening, on the eve of Thanksgiving, after coming back once again from Stella at Star Waxing Salon in Beverly Hills, I had to take a moment and reflect upon the significance of this piece of writing, because it hit me tonight mid-wax that I have been a loyal client of Stella’s for the past nine years. Stella and my ‘cucka’ (as my former roommate Jessica so fondly refers to her own Vajay) have been in a committed nine-year relationship that I can honestly say I am proud of. So I decided to blog about it.

When I initially wrote the bikini-wax monologue, the topic of the piece was my way of marveling at my ability to even follow through with a Brazilian wax. It’s incredibly painful, yes, but more important--it’s incredibly intimate. Allowing anyone—man or woman—to have that kind of access to your lady-parts is a huge leap of faith. And when that access entails letting said person spread hot wax across your outer labia, then use linen strips to rip it off—all the while conversing about life, love, and the Holidays—one can’t help but pause and reflect upon it. Just a little.

Unlike Stella my waxer and I, my mother and I are not very close. It’s unfortunate, but it’s understandable. We are like oil and water (as she says—‘we don’t mix well’.) Probably because we are both stubborn, independent, and opinionated, and we don’t know how to pull punches or be tactful. So when you put us together, someone always gets their feelings hurt. It’s usually me, because I’m the one desperate to please and she loves to find fault. My issues with intimacy are a direct result of my inability to connect with my mother, and it suddenly occurs to me that the nine years of being waxed by Stella (while both in monogamous relationships and single) is not only confirmation that I’m committed to having porn-star lady-parts even in the absence of a lover in my life, but also that I have healed a very deep and aching rift between my self and my Self. 

Tonight I laid on that table, my dress rucked up around my hips, completely open to the world and Stella’s expertise, while we chatted about my love life, my career, my future.  I was totally and completely at ease. A Russian Jew in her mid-50’s, Stella has a thick accent and enormous blue eyes that peer down at me from beneath funky-framed magnifying reading glasses. Her wax is always the right temperature. Her hands are delicate and soft. And the love that radiates from her while she’s assuring me that I will find someone special, I will be a successful actress, and “yes my Darling, seeing you is a true joy”—is the kind of love I craved from my mother but seldom received.

It’s Thanksgiving, and I know this is a strange thing to be grateful for—that the woman who administers the infamous Brazilian bikini wax (the gift that keeps on giving, FYI) is still such a huge and consistent part of my life. But I think it’s important that I share this, because I know there are a lot of women out there who have struggled to connect with their moms. I spent a long time bemoaning the lack of acceptance and gentle loving kindness I so desperately sought from my mother. And the fact is, my mother did the best she could, and did a fabulous job. Contending with the traumas and abuses she endured without therapy, coming from a generation of people who hadn’t yet discovered the importance of self-help, collective consciousness, and self-actualization, and managing to build a life for herself in a country that was not her home (she’s Vietnamese), caused my mother to create a relationship with her Self that made it difficult for her to show me unconditional love. Even if she loved me unconditionally, she didn't always demonstrate it in ways that made me feel loved. It's not always easy to express your Divine love, even when it's the underlying frequency of your hurtful actions. I understand that now, and I forgive her for it. I choose now to focus on the fact that there are people in my life who do provide unconditional love in ways I can understand and interpret. And I am grateful for even the smallest gesture of this powerful and beautiful expression of the Divine.

For those of us who have experienced traumas and injustices done to us by those we loved and cared for the most—do not give up hope. The Universe always gives us what we need. Sometimes it shows up in the most bizarre and non-traditional places. I never thought I’d receive Divine love and acceptance tonight while lying on a table spread-eagled with a Russian Jew peering down at my cucka. But I did. And I still do. And I’m totally ready for Mr. Right (wherever he may be) to swoop in, take charge, and expand upon that gratitude ;)

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!


LMP Self-Love Suggestion: Look for all the ways you are loved in your life. Not just the obvious--notice gentle reminders the Universe gives you EVERY DAY that you are special and you belong here. When someone allows you into their lane on the freeway. When someone sees you only have one item in the grocery check-out and lets you go ahead. Stumped? Not seeing that evidence so much? Guess what--give it out. You'll receive it three-fold ;)

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Star Waxing is owned and operated by Stella:
914 S. Robertson Blvd Ste 101 | Los Angeles
310.277.7131