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Another Year: A Short History Of Almost Something

Posted: November 18, 2014 by Angel Young in Life, Travel, Writing
Tags: a writers life for me, adventure, amanda palmer, another year, aspiring author, aspiring writer, Batman, batman live, blog, books, boston, chicago, comic con, david della rocco, depression, dreams, goals, health, illness, image, inspiration, james marsters, life, lyrics, misadventures, misadventures of a misfit, motivation, mysterious sickness of doom, nashville, new york, orlando, Phantom of the Opera, photographer life, picture, quotes, robert englund, salem, sean patrick flanery, sjogrens, songs, soundtrack of a misfit, stan lee, stress, the mysterious sickness of doom, travel, universal, vacation, wicked, work, writer, writing

“I think I’ll wait another year,
It’ll be the best year ever.”

If you haven’t listened to Amanda Palmer’s “Another Year”, go do it immediately. This song is on to Top 5 list of the soundtrack of my life, I swear.

Now, I have done many, many things in my life. I’ve worked in a haunted house, and a Halloween costume/supply store. I’ve left the country. Twice. Swam with dolphins. Also twice. I attended a writing conference in New York with Best Selling authors and agents and other passionate writer people like myself, and even read part of a manuscript out loud to two agents (both of which were interested in reading more) – before I started my senior year of High School. I’ve been to Orlando four times. I’ve been to Boston and Salem. I’ve been to Chicago, New Orleans, and Nashville for cons. I’ve been to James Marsters birthday party. Sean Patrick Flanery has called my boyfriend and made me blush, and just been an all around awesome dude to me. David Della Rocco kissed my cheek. I’ve met amazing actors, artists, comedians, authors, etc. I’ve met Stan Lee. Multiple times. I met Robert Englund and cried. I’ve been to Batman Live!, Wicked, Phantom of the Opera, and a variety of other plays and shows. I’ve had VIP passes and been allowed into areas others have dreamed of. I’ve shot fashion shows, had photos and articles published, and occasionally feel like maybe I’m going in the right direction.

And so, so much more. So many people and places I can’t even list them all.

But, I somehow still want more. I have worked myself to death to feel like I’m somewhere, or doing something, and not wasting my life behind a desk at a day job.

It feels like I have been stuck in a state of Almost Something. I have almost been published. Almost graduated with my degree as an Art major. Almost stepped up to the next level in photography. Almost almost almost. But I don’t won’t to fall short anymore. I want to move from Almost Something into Definitely Something.

So, next year, I will try to do more. I will try to top everything I’ve already done, just because I have the drive to do it. I don’t want to live an average life. It will drive me insane. I want to feel like I’ve accomplished things and lived a life I was proud of by the time I’m dead.

I’m working on a list right now of things to do in 2015. Because while 2014 had some very good things, it also had some horrible things. And I want more good days than bad. I’ll post a finished list closer to New Years Eve, but there are some points I will definitely touch on:

I will do something writing related, whether it’s a published novel, or another article. Even a baby step forward is better than a stand still.

I will work on my photography more. Because I miss it. Because I need it. I will do shoots and get my work out there.

I will do something more with my art. It’s improving, though not quite where it was art. I would love to start selling prints and pieces to people.

Travel. Experiences. Health.

There is no point in wasting time, when there are adventures out there waiting for me. I just need to seize the chances I’m presented with.

~Angel

Count Me Among Thy Saints.

Posted: November 19, 2013 by Angel Young in Life, Travel
Tags: actors, adventures, Angel, awesome, Batman, boondock saints, Boondock Saints shirt, celebrities, comic con, con, daryl dixon, david della rocco, dreams, friends, image, inspiration, Jimi Hendrix, life, Little Red, lyrics, misadventures, misadventures of a misfit, Model, motivation, nashville, norman reedus, photo, photography, picture, quotes, sean patrick flanery, Skylar, songs, stan lee, The Walking Dead, travel, vacation, walking dead

It’s no secret that my faaaaaaaavorite movie is The Boondock Saints. I’ve written papers on the techniques used in it for my film class, watched it countless numbers of times, and even have some nifty neato stuff like posters, a canvas print, and a fairly badass lamp. Plus shirts. Etc. You get the idea. This is MY movie.

It also just so happens I’ve gotten to meet the three above individuals (my favorite guys in the movie, too): (from left to right) Sean Patrick Flanery, David Della Rocco, and Norman Reedus. Yes, the very same Norman Reedus that plays Daryl on The Walking Dead. I have hugged the Reedus. He has called me Batman. ALL YOUR JEALOUSY IS UNDERSTANDABLE. lol

BEHOLD THE PICTURE TIME:

Skylar and I are over-eager and entirely too excited about life.

Skylar and my Spider-Vans.

Reedus photobomb.

I signed David Della Rocco’s table, and this is what he added to it. 😀

Selfies with Rocco!

Now, a bit of story time for you. Some of you may know that some… shenanigans took place on this adventure. Shenanigans involving myself and Sean Patrick Flanery:

Here’s the story:

Skylar, my mother, and myself took off into Nashville to meet our boys, the first up of the three being Norman Reedus, because we were terrified of Walking Dead stalker girls. While we were waiting, I eagerly looked around for Norman. Then, something glorious happened. I looked to my left and saw three very familiar faces. I nudged Skylar, who had taken a seat on the floor. “They just walked in,” I whispered. “Seriously, stand up. It’s the boys.”

Skylar jumped up and looked to where I was pointing. Sure enough, there walked Norman Reedus, accompanied by David Della Rocco and Sean Patrick Flanery. My heart was pounding in my chest. This moment made it all worth it, I knew. All of the stress and drama over coming to Nashville, over going on yet another ridiculous trip, was suddenly justified in my mind.

Norman broke away from his pack and walked up to his table, a mass of fans excited behind us cheering at the sight. Skylar and I were shaking while he talked to us before we came up to his table. “I’m going to pass out,” Skylar said. “I can’t believe this is really about to happen – are you seriously staring at Sean Patrick Flanery right now?”

I turned back to Skylar, only slightly embarrassed I had been caught, before returning my attention to Norman Reedus.

I walked up to him first while Skylar tried to compose herself. “Hey, I’m Norman,” he said, shaking my hand.

“I’m Angel,” I said, placing a still shot photo of his character in front of him, followed by a small movie poster.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Angel,” he said. He reached for a sharpie while I reached into my pocket.

“I actually saw you briefly in Chicago, but I didn’t make it up to your table,” I said, sitting a neon green piece of foam shaped like a circle in front of him. “You actually shot me with this.”

To the left, the ammo Skylar was shot with by David Della Rocco. To the right, the ammo Norman Reedus shot me with.

“Oh yeah! I remember that Nerf gun.” He picked up the ammo off the table. “That’s awesome that you kept it.”

“Not everyone can say Norman Reedus shot them, now I have proof.” We both laughed while he signed my stuff for me. Before I stepped away, he hugged me, and fan girls behind me had a meltdown. I moved out of the way so Skylar could go up to him. She was too nervous to do much other than squeak her name out for him.

“That’s a beautiful name,” he said to her. “I’ve never heard Skylar before.”

When we were walking away, Skylar was shaking. “Norman Reedus just said I had a pretty name.” I patted her on the back and directed her toward Sean Patrick Flanery.

Let me just throw this out there now: I have had a ridiculous crush on this man for more years than I can remember. I didn’t go psycho crazy stalker girl on him or anything, but I could readily admit he was my Hollywood Heartthrob. My heart was ready to explode out of my chest and bounce off the walls from excitement.

When I finally made my way up to him, he shook my hand, and my brain instantly went into ridiculous babble mode. “Hey, I’m Sean.”

“I’m Angel, and this is the greatest moment of my life,” I said. I tried to make it sound a little less creepy by laughing afterwards, but mostly I just tried to keep from staring at his chest.

“Angel, that’s a beautiful name,” he said. “Have you ever heard the song Angel by Jimi Hendrix?”

“I’m not sure,” I said.

“How’re you not sure?” he said, smiling at me.

“Do you realize how many songs have my name in it?” I said. “And how many people show me songs because they have my name in them?”

He laughed and looked down at the photo in front of him. He wrote:

“To Angel:

Angel came down from Heaven yesterday, stayed with me just long enough to rescue me.”

He held the picture up in front of me, “This is the first verse in the song, and my favorite part. It’s a great fucking song. You need to listen to it, alright? Tonight.” I promised him I would. Moments later, we were hugging, and his assistant was taking our picture together, before he generically signed Skylar’s photo.

“He ignored me because he was so focused on you,” Skylar said as we walked up to David Della Rocco.

“I can die happy now,” I said, admiring my picture.

We spent several minutes just talking to David Della Rocco, taking pictures and laughing, before I took Skylar over to wait for Stan Lee. While she stood in her line, I made my way to find my mother, still in the insanity of Norman Reedus fans. By the time she made it out to me, I was eager to see Sean Patrick Flanery again. I grabbed my mother, and toward his table we went.

I’m still sort of lost in the chaos of what happened, because somehow, before I could really grasp what was going on, Sean Patrick Flanery had my phone. That was the only thought I could process at first: Sean Patrick Flanery is using my cellphone. Then it occurred to me what he was saying to me, and who he was calling. “Taylor, right?” he said. “That’s your boyfriend’s name?” I nodded, smiling like the dumbstruck fan girl I was.

Somebody else snagged a photo, not me. I was waaay too busy laughing.

And then, I could hear him talking to Taylor. On my phone. He was calling my boyfriend, on my phone, and using his Irish accent he used when he played Connor MacManus. With my mother standing beside me, he was yelling at my boyfriend as his character, and saying an embarrassing amount of dirty things he had done and was planning to do with me since my boyfriend let me go off to con alone. Then, he hung up.

Everyone around us was laughing hysterically, and I was blushing brighter than I ever have. Just as Sean moved to hand me my phone back, the screen lit up: Incoming Call. Taylor.

We both dove for the phone, accepting the call in the process, before I finally retrieved my phone and ended the call. “I was going to answer that! It was for me,” Sean said, his grin mischievous. Lost in my girlish crush overload, I finished our conversation up before moving away to call my boyfriend back.

I started out this phone call laughing, still thoroughly entertained by the moment that I just had. But my boyfriend wasn’t as amused, and before I knew it, we were fighting, and my mood was ruined. Somehow, I had reversed the entire purpose of my trip. I went from radiating happiness, to hitting such a low; I only wanted to go back to the hotel.

I perked up long enough that, when I saw the boys a little later for our group photo of myself with Sean, Norman, and David, we all had the chance to joke around about my phone call. The photographer had to get us to settle down, and even moments after we were still goofing off. Sean leaned into my ear before I walked away and said, “I still don’t regret it.”

I told him I didn’t regret it, either.

The next day, we stopped by the con to say farewell to our new friends. I was long over my bad mood, and accepted that not everyone could say their boyfriend had a personal issue with Sean Patrick Flanery. I downloaded “Angel” onto my iPod and talked to Sean about how much I adored his recommendation. Finally, we started our drive back to reality.

For six hours, I babbled about my Best Weekend Ever, and kept telling my mother that next time – because there will always be a next time – I would be thinner, and it would be better. These were my boys, and I missed them dearly already. I turned the radio up every time my music shuffled back to “Angel”:

“And then she spread her wings high over me. She said she’s gonna come back tomorrow.”

At least I got a fancy new Boondock Saints shirt, which was too small when I bought it, but I’ve been motivated to get skinny since then and it now fits 😉

“When I raise my flashing sword, and my hand takes hold on judgment, I will take vengeance upon mine enemies, and I will repay those who hate me. Oh, Lord, raise me to Thy right hand and count me among Thy saints.”

So, there you have it ladies and germs. The trip of crazy wonderful-ness. I wish I could explain it better, but it was one of those You Had To Be There to completely relate lol. Anywho, until next time!

~Angel

The Wanderer

Posted: November 10, 2013 by Angel Young in Life, Travel
Tags: a writers life for me, Angel, awesome, Batman, best friend, blog, boondock saints, chicago, comic con, david della rocco, depression, dreams, friends, health, hero, heroes, icon, illness, inspiration, james marsters, life, misadventures, misadventures of a misfit, motivation, mysterious sickness of doom, new york, norman reedus, orlando, photo, photography, picture, sean patrick flanery, sjogrens, st louis, stan lee, the mysterious sickness of doom, tom felton, travel, universal, Universal Orlando, vacation, wanderer, wandering weirdo, work, writer, writing

Let me take a moment to explain some of my insanity to you:

People tell me that I’m disconnected from everyone around me. My own boyfriend occasionally tells me that even if we’re in the same room, it feels as though I’m a million miles away. That’s just how I am, I tell them. I’m in my own head a lot. I’m a writer. It happens.

It’s harder to tell them that, especially as of late, I’m usually wishing I was anywhere but where I am. The past few years, I’ve become a recluse that hides away from the regular world. Especially after the start of the Mysterious Sickness of Doom, aka Sjogren’s, started to take control of my life. Between that, and work, and trying to be realistic, a lot of my fire had died out. I’ve become bitter and jealous of the life I was living not that long ago.

Just a few years ago, I was trying to get my first novel published. I had been to New York and met with literary agents, I even nearly had one become my agent. I rubbed elbows with other writers at the Algonquin, went to book signings and releases and had so many advanced signed copies of books from the author friends I had made, that I started doing my own reviews along with other bloggers, leading me to some extra writing gigs. I’d had breakfasts, lunches, and dinners with authors, both New York Times Bestseller’s and Indie writers. All before I turned 18 and started my senior year of High School. I was voted Most Likely to Write a Novel, president of Book Club, and felt like an unstoppable force.

Except that I wasn’t as unstoppable as I had believed, and by the time I was entering my third semester of college, I started to burn out on everything. I wanted to keep my grades up, but I also needed a job, and thought I could magically balance the two out with writing. I did manage it for a little while, until work became my main focus and even school started slipping. Before I knew it, BAM! I was sick, and the rest of my life began to crumble around me. I wasn’t slowing down or losing speed, I had come to a halt altogether.

Just after I recovered enough to return to work, I was already burning out all over again. To cheer me up, my mom and I went to Disney World and Universal Orlando in May 2012, and even though it wiped my energy out, it revived some of my spirit. For a little while, I was starting to get myself back. Yet, just as quickly, it started to fade, because work would eat away at my happiness and I couldn’t find the time or energy or clarity for writing. So I started to do the only thing I knew how to do: I found something useful to do with the money I was making and started planning more things to do.

When I think about it, even though I don’t know the exact moment it happened, that decision was the catalyst. I started out small in December 2012 by going to see Batman Live! and Wicked at the Fox Theatre, both of which stirred up something inside of me that I’d felt after my Orlando trip. I was desperate to hold onto this feeling, and quickly planned a surprise trip to see Wicked again for my best friend and myself.

It didn’t take long for me to be stir crazy all over again, even with my rheumatology appointments keeping me a regular at a few hospitals. So, I went to my first ComicCon in March and met some personal heroes, like Stan Lee, James Marsters, and Tom Felton, to name a few. Again, I was pumped up afterwards, but soon after the excitement started to fade and I was back to the same routine: Work, Sickness. Repeat. I needed something else to distract myself, and so I schemed until I came up with a game plan to go on a real trip. June came, and I returned to Disney and Universal, hoping to reclaim some of that magic that I had the previous year. Packing my bags, heading to the airport, knowing I had all of this excitement ahead – it all revived me. By my last day in Florida, though, I felt like crying. I wasn’t ready to come home. The thought of returning to my previous schedule made me nauseated.

Again, I began to scheme a way out.

Now, by this point, other people were starting to notice I was “blowing” a lot of money. I say “blowing” in quotation marks because I don’t agree with what they’re saying, but they said it all the same. As soon as family, friends, and coworkers learned of my plans to fly to Chicago the weekend before my birthday, I started hearing their concerns:

“Well, Angel, don’t you think you should be saving your energy and money?”

Or, “I don’t understand why you need to run off so much when you never have time for anyone around you.”

I packed my bags, left for Chicago, and ignored everyone else. I had too much to do in such a short period of time; I didn’t care what anyone else said. So I enjoyed a few days of a con, met some more awesome people, went to my first concert, and even went to James Marsters birthday party. For a few days, I was right back at the top of the world. I had a break from being Angel Young, miserable office monkey and Sjogrens slave. I needed that break. Coming back to reality was a slap in the face and I didn’t take it very well at all.

This explains why, before we even boarded the plane to come home, I was plotting one final escape for 2013. I needed one more fix to get me through until the new year of new adventures. Because this is what I am: I am The Wanderer.

Now, I need to slow Story Time down a bit for you, because that final Big Adventure of 2013 needs to be it’s own post. Because seriously, THIS happened:

….But that story is for another day.

The point is, ladies and gents, that I am dealing with a lot of stress, and a lot of self-reflection. I am coming to a clear realization that I am running from something, likely myself, and that I won’t stop running until I feel like I’ve done whatever it is I need to in order to sleep again. No matter what anyone else has to say about it, I know I have to keep packing my bags and searching for whatever it is out there that I need. Because it isn’t here in small town Missouri. It’s out there in that great wide world I love to explore. And since I’m such a big fan of experiencing life instead of just living day-to-day life, it all seems to work out just fine.

So I’ll continue this line of thought another night this week, hopefully, before catching you up on everything else.

~Angel

Blessed are the weird.

Posted: April 21, 2013 by Angel Young in Uncategorized
Tags: a writers life for me, art, autoimmune diseases, Batman, depression, fibromyalgia, friends, health, insanity, life, Loss, love, lupus, mania, mental-health, mysterious sickness of doom, photography, sjogrens, stan lee, writer, writing

So, the last I left off with you guys, I had just gone to an awesome Con and met some amaaaaazing people. I had an appointment coming up for the Mysterious Sickness of Doom and was stressing myself into madness. Well, obviously, that time has come and gone. To be honest, I started to write several posts, but I kept stopping myself for whatever reason. So here I sit, debating. Should I write? What should I post? What is too much or too dull or.. I honestly don’t know.

I’ve been sort of lost lately. Stress is eating away at me, corroding what remains of the walls I’ve built around myself. To give you a glimpse of how my brain works:

I keep trying to fill in the voids. Patch the cracks before I split open. That sorta feeling. I gave myself something to work toward, to look forward to (I’ll get to that later), but still.. Still I sit there, eyes tightly shut, losing my marbles over and over. I start to lose track of what’s real and what isn’t. Did they really say that? Did he really do that? Is this happening?

So, I want to write things. I want to draw things. I want to take pictures. I want to get this OUT OF ME before it tears me apart.

But I lose faith in my writing.

I make up excuses to avoid my artwork.

Do shoots I’m paid to do, find myself hating my work even if I like it, then feeling discouraged all over again.

Then I look around my room. Look at these things that make up some part of me. Look at my Batman collection. Admire it. Hate myself for it. I’m stupid for having it. People hate me for it.

People hate me for everything in here. Everything about me. People hate me. My friends hate me. I hate me.

I go back to sitting there, a pen in my hand, a blank page to confess whatever I need to release. And I can’t. I’m scared.

Get online. Obviously every damn post is about me. Obviously, that random girl is talking about my boyfriend, because she would make him happier than I make him. So then I’m thinking about myself. What’s wrong with me? I’m fat. And ugly. And just.. just not right. I’m not right. I shouldn’t eat, because I don’t deserve it.

I don’t deserve anything. Any of it. I don’t deserve life. I’m a terrible daughter. Terrible sister. Terrible friend. Person. Everything. Don’t deserve this breath, don’t deserve the next one.

Here we are again. Blank screen. Need to post. Doctor’s appointment. Need to update. Fibromyalgia, Lupus, more blood work. Phone call. More abnormal tests. Sjogren’s. Ultrasound. Biopsy. I feel sick. What did she say? Feel like I’m dying. Why won’t she just say it – you’re dying. Because I feel like it. Everyone thinks I’m crazy. I shouldn’t whine. I could be worse. I just want to cancel my appointments. I’ll just cancel them all and stay home. No. No, can’t type that. Not tonight.

Delete. Blank screen.

What am I thankful for? Little things. Work on Little Things.

Thankful for my friends. But they hate me. Thankful for my upcoming trip. Best friend doesn’t care doesn’t want to go hates me. Causing problems with everyone. Everyone is going away. Everyone is leaving or dying. Should I be leaving or dying too? Everyone goes away in the end. I need to keep them safe. Don’t do drugs don’t smoke don’t drink don’t get hurt. But I’m wrong, because I’m always wrong, and because I make a better Villain than Hero. So I piss everyone off because I love them. I’m a terrible friend. That’s why they all go away. I wish I could just go away. How dare they tell me to take care of myself, when they’re trying to hurt themselves? Oh but I’m wrong, you see. Because they NEED that. I’m stupid. I’m so damn stupid.

I can’t do anything right. Why do I even bother?..

That is the best description I can give of my thought process lately. I seem to go through this every single day, over and over and over. I get a little crazy. Sometimes, it becomes more than thoughts – sometimes I start going off on people for things they haven’t done.

But I have to keep some very important things in mind: I can do ANYTHING I set my mind to. I am LOVED. I have a bright FUTURE, no matter the past. And I have lost too many loved ones to live anything but the best life possible, in honor of all of them.

Which is what I plan on doing: Living. Time to snap myself out of this rut. I mean SHIT man. I met STAN LEE. Honestly. I do cool stuff on a regular basis 😉

NOW, on to other matters:

I surprised my best friend, Brittaney, with a trip to Orlando this June – gonna hit up Disney and Universal, stay in the ultra fancy Yacht Club at Disney, and just chill and be happy youngsters. The last time I went, I wished Britt was by my side the whole time. So, I had to pull of some amazingness to make it work, but she is definitely going with me. 🙂 I’m counting down the days. Literally. There’s an app for that.

I’ve also been forcing myself to write and draw and take pictures again. For me. To get whatever it is out that I must get out. Because I’m a weirdo, and that’s what we do. Blessed are the weird.

I’m also going to make some SERIOUS changes soon. I don’t wanna give away what exactly, but I will soon enough.

Anyway, that’s enough from me for tonight.

~Angel