Reflect

37 day.

37 long grueling days of work left before I quit to pursue something better. 37 days fast intense days to find another source of income. What am I going to do? I have a long list of ways to get by, but nothing substantial. No career path. I just don't know what I want to do. Well I know what I want, but don't know how to get there. How does one become a National Geographic Explorer? How does one travel the world documenting what's going on in places we have never heard of? How does one tell stories of people that we know nothing about? How do we love the unknown? I don't know how but I do. I love what I don't know. I love places I've never been and people I've never met. I love tastes that I could never imagine and experiences I couldn't have written myself. I love not knowing what the day will bring. I'm not looking for security. I'm not looking for a husband, a job with a good maternity leave, and a house in a safe neighborhood for kids. I'm looking for adventure. I want a life worth telling. I want a life you could read about in books and magazines. I want a life worth living. What I have now I wouldn't call a life. I'm not living. I'm surviving. I'm passing time. Wasting away. I'm a vegetable and no one has had the courage to pull the cord. Life is my feeding tube. But recently my eyes have begun to flicker. I think might hand might have twitched. Wait it looks like their might be some brain activity. The doctor says I'll never be the same though. I've killed too many brain cells in my coma-like life. Is it too late? Never. I feel the fog lifting. I can hear voices. My eyes aren't open yet, but the voices are there. The voices are back telling me I'm going to live. I'm going to pull through. It's not over. There is so much left for you. There are aromas you haven't smelled. Flavors you have yet to taste. Places to go and so many sites to see. Hearts you have yet to touch. Life you have yet to live. It is all waiting for you. Just hold on. Wake up. Open your eyes. Come to life. Breath. Take out the tubes of mediocrity crippling you. Wake up Amy. As I struggle to come to life I feel fear. I don't know where I am. I don't know what I'm able to do. Will I ever run again? Can I leave the comfort of the known. The comfort of being average. The comfort of not failing due to not trying. What if I fail? Can failing be worse than this numbness. Can trying be worse than feeling like a victim to unfair circumstances? What if I'm not good enough? Is it worse than knowing I'm better than to live out my remaining days in a coma? What can you accomplish in a coma? All you can do is imagine how you were made for something more. She was so young. She had so much life yet to live before she put herself coma of average. It's like a dream the moment before you wake when you realize you are dreaming. You are relieved it's just a dream. There is the small voice that says wake up. Hurry and wake up. You are going to be ok. This isn't real. This coma isn't real. It's just a dream, more of a nightmare where you run and run but your legs are heavy. So heavy. You know you can run faster, but the lead in your legs is slowing you down. If you could just run as fast as you know you can run you'd make it to safety. The bad guy wouldn't catch you. Legs Run!!! Wake up Amy. I'm awake. I can run. I can breathe. I'm ready to live. Life what do you have for me? I don't need any more insecurity. I've had my share of doubt. Give me the good stuff. Give me what you have given the heroes. Give me hope. Give me life. If you don't give it to me I will take it. I will take it and never give it back. I will be great. Nothing will stop me. I'm ready. Even though my muscles have atrophied and my mind is muddled. I can't remember what greatness feels like I know it feels great. My coma has made me realize how wonderful life is. The soreness my body feel reminds me that I was made to move. Move mountains. Move hearts. So I'm at the starting line. I'm down in a runner's start position. My muscles are twitching in nerves and anticipation. I look around and no one else is around. Where are the other runner's? When will the gun blast? When do I start? I'm ready. Someone tell me when to start. Judge? Wait is this a sprint or marathon? Am I prepared. Just give me the sign to go. My muscles start to relax. I'm waiting. Maybe I should stretch some more? No I feel ready. Let's go. If I'm to run alone in this race why do I need someone to tell me when to start. Start now Amy. Now? I didn't hear a bang, a go, or start. You don't need one. This is your life. Just go. Now? Yes. RUUUUNNNNNNN!!!!

Monologue

Good evening Mr. bond

I just finished my first ever monologue for the intermediate acting class. I know I know. Compared to how terrifying the last class was you're surprised I would torment myself again. Glutton for punishment. Last class was miserable but I squeaked out without doing a monologue. Which was a blessing since it wasn't really a monologue. This class we were supposed to prepare a monologue and be ready to play 10 measures of music using an instrument that we've never played before. Crazy huh? It took me 3 days to decide if I still wanted to take the class. I waited till the Wednesday before the class to register. After much convincing and self determination. I searched for hours online for a monologue. Finally my mom stumbled on one that was a perfect fit. It was a bond girl. One of the smart ones not the dumb blondes that dies after having sex with Bond. Then my dad gave me his harmonica for my other performance. I picked "Blowin in the wind", by Dylan cause I knew the rhythm. Even though when I played it you couldn't tell. I was terrified. My sister being present in this class was only a small condolence. She was going to sing for her instrument. I know that's cheating. Exactly what I told her. She definitely has used that instrument before. And she didn't prepare a monologue. Can you believe it?! My sister who always talked about being an actress refused to prepare a monologue. Ridiculous. She says it's not fear though. Who believes that? Not I.

We started the class with some exercises that gets everyone moving and interacting. Next was our music audition. Everything was intense. Every performance was taken to a new level by the instructor, Di. I was nervous what extra stipulation would be added to my performance. Anna didn't sign up to play her "instrument". Don't worry it's not due to fear.

In one person's performance she had everyone get involved by dancing or playing music. After 20 minutes we took a break. I looked at my watch and it was only 12:30. I still had 4.5 hours to go. Me and my sis grabbed some grub and headed back to the room of vulnerability. My sister talked to the instructor about her song and that she wasn't sure she was ready to take acting seriously. Or something like that to get out of it. Well we didn't go back to the performing music, but shifted to some other exercises. The instructor had us all get in a circle and had one young man walk around the circle and make eye contact with everyone. We were all supposed to give off love and encouragement to help him open up and prepare the space for our monologues. Well after he went around the circle multiple times with multiple instructions Di introduced him to each person and said something about the love that person was giving off. Well when they made their way to Anna, Di told the man that Anna had a song for him. So then she asked Anna to sing her song. Glorious!!! Get out of that one. Oh the look on Anna's face. I had to hold back my chuckle. Anna hesitated to get her bearings then sang to the boy and everyone else in the circle. The lyrics went perfectly with the scenario. It was a worship song about going through a valley with God and about being accepted for who you were. It was only about 15 seconds, but I think it made a difference in the guy's demeanor.

After this exercise people started to do their monologues. The first one was from Shakespeare. The girl did an amazing job and Di pushed her to even more amazement. The rest after that seemed to be the same level of seriousness and intensity. I purposefully avoided a monologue that would cause me to yell, cry, or act crazy. I guess in the acting world the more intense the better. As time started to slip away Anna slipped out the back door and off to work. There was one more hour left till I got to escape and I had yet to perform. I was not so secretly hoping that I would dodge another bullet. During a break someone said they had to leave early so he would like to go next. Di said she wanted to make sure everyone got a chance and wanted to know if anyone else had to leave early. I didn't want to say anything, but since she asked I couldn't very well sneak out innocently any longer. So I was second. The guy had chosen a calm serious scene that he was having a hard time getting any emotion out of ... now I know why actors choose intensity... it's easier to portray. Having to portray a less obvious and intense emotion can be a lot more challenging. Sadness is crying. Anger is yelling. Joy is laughing. But what about contempt. Or smugness. I look at my watch for the 176 time that day and I have 15 minutes before work. I'm gonna get off the hook... "Who's up?... Amy." Damn!

Di asked me what I needed in the scene. James Bond. So after I briefly explained my character and the scene I took a deep breath... and died. Some part in my died. The part that had never done a monologue. The part in me that thought I would never act. The part that told me I wasn't good enough. The part that apologized when I walked in the room. The part that feared failure to the point I never tried. That part died and another part of me was born. I was alive. I was doing it. I was failing and being ok. I was acting... well... for two lines before Diane stopped me. She said I was acting as if I'd seen the movie and was just trying to portray what I saw. She asked me all sorts of questions to help me understand where I was coming from in the scene.
Is your character smart?
Yes
Is she a virgin?
No
What relationship does Bond have with you?
I have just met him and I want to prove I'm just as smart and good as he is.
So this is a competition?
Yes
And he might ask you to have sex with you later?
Yes

After starting then being told to stop again I thought I wasn't going to get through this. I just wanted to run out of the room. Di told me to quit trying to act. I wasn't adding the attitude which is why I picked this monologue. I'm a jock I know how to banter. I know how to put a guy in his place. I shifted in my seat and put Bond is his place. Here was my monologue.


Casino Royale (2006)
by Neal Purvis, Robert Wade, and Paul Haggis

Vesper: Alright, by the cut of your suit you went to Oxford or wherever, and naturally think
human beings dress like that. But you wear it with such disdain, my guess is you didn’t come
from money. And your school friends never let you forget it. Which means you were at that
school by the grace of someone else’s charity. Hence the chip on your shoulder. And since
your first thought about me ran to orphan, that’s what I’d say you are...

Oh, you are? I like this poker thing. And that makes perfect sense. Since MI6 looks for
maladjusted young men, who give little though to sacrificing others in order to protect Queen
and country. You know, former SAS types with easy smiles and expensive watches. Rolex?
Ah, Omega. Beautiful.

Now having just met you I wouldn’t go as far as calling you a cold hearted bastard. But it
wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine. You think of women as disposable pleasure rather than
meaningful pursuits. So as charming as you are, I’ll be keeping my eye on our government’s
money, and off your perfectly formed ass.

Even accountants have imagination. Good evening, Mr. Bond.

I did it. Everyone in the room started clapping. Di told me how proud she was of me. I did it. I can't believe it. It felt good. I felt the I said the lines how they were supposed to be said. I had conquered that fear. I had to immediately run out of the room and head to work. I felt invincible. On the way to work I was hot, flushed, on a high. I can do anything. 

Facing Fears

Today was a turning point in my life. I took a step through a door that I have kept shut my whole life. I took a step closer to my dreams and destiny. I took an acting class. It was terrifying. To some people this might not seem like a big deal. Just like sky diving might not seem like a big deal to me, but if you have acrophobia (fear of heights) then it's a different story. Well today I was an acrophobic sky diving. I felt like I leaped off a cliff. Now this torment wasn't my idea. My sister begged me to take the class with her and my mom proceeded to prod me. I figured it was time to face my fears, but really I was hoping I wouldn't be too involved. That would be a false hope as I received an email telling me to prepare a monologue for class. What?! I have to act?! Immediately I was ready to drop the class. I'm not ready for this. My sister and mom continued to persuade me saying that this would be good for me. Well as doom day got closer I found my escape route quickly diminishing. I had to email a quick bio of my acting experience and what I hoped to get out of the class. My email went something like this:

My name is Amy Brown and I'm a Redding local. I have a BA in Cinema and Digital Media. I do not have any acting experience. I do not plan on acting in the future. One might wonder why I'd take this class. Well my sister loves acting. She is in this class and asked me to take it with her. I understand that if I plan on working in films it's important to understand what to expect from your actors. I hate public speaking and being in large crowds and I'm terrified of monologuing and this class. This will be quite a challenge for me, but action conquers fear... or so I'm told. I'm hoping this class will challenge me to be comfortable expressing myself personally and creatively.

Quite honest I know. Too honest? Well here is the response I got:

Hi Amy,  Diane Venora here.  Thank you for your email.  I need to let you know that this class would not be advisable for you.  The class is intense physically, mentally and technically.  I do not teach beginning actors.  I know those who do do that more effectively than I.  However they are in Los Angeles.  

I hope that this doesn't discourage you.  Your money will be happily refunded of course.  I do thank you for stepping out of your comfort zone.   The criteria for the class is that everyone is passionate about the craft needed to become a professional actor.  As a creative alternative I can suggest to WPAC a beginning class for non-actors, introducing you to the rudiments of the craft for sensitivity to actors by doing it yourself.  That would be something special and constructed specifically for you.

That's the best I can do at this time.   Thank you Amy .  I would love to hear your thoughts on all of this.

There was my out! I couldn't ask for a more painless way to avoid discomfort and humiliation. Most people in my situation would have thanked the heavens for answering prayers. Well it seems that I'm not most people. All this email did was motivate me. My fear subsided and my pride overwhelmed me. No one tells me no. I'm the only one that gets to discount my abilities. So where was my thoughtful response:

Thank you for your response. I was unaware of the qualifications and I appreciate your concerns. I respect your profession and the experience you will bring to the class. I understand the frustrations that can arise when a student is out of place from my tennis coaching experience. However, motivation and determination can overcome some technical skills. I doubt that the purpose of your email was to inspire me to want to take this class, and if so I'm even more impressed. Nothing lights a fire and eliminates my fears more that being told I can't or shouldn't do something. I'm not just stubborn, but excited for the challenge. I've tried to take an acting class before and it was canceled. I've been hesitate to become a local reporter because of being on camera. I've made a decision lately to think big and do something I've never imagined. I've given my self 90 days to quit my job and pursue a passion. Since then I've faced opposition and discouragement. I now believe I'm meant to take this class because something is trying to prevent me from pursuing something greater. Now the decision to let me go to the class is up to you. I respect your professional opinion and in no way and I'm trying to guilt or pressure you. I'm confident my life will continue on to a better story whether or not I'm in this class so don't worry about that. If you think it's best for me to find a beginner class than I will do what it takes to find one. Once again thank you for your response and concerns. If I don't see you Saturday I'll make sure to find out everything from my sister. Enjoy your day.

I have officially requested my own death sentence. She let me in the class.

Then the worst happened. I find out that my sister didn't request work off. She waited so long that when she finally asked no one would cover her shift. Now I'm pissed. I guilted this acting professor to let a beginner into her class just because I'm a stubborn over-overachiever and now I'll have to go solo. It's amazing the amount of stress that is released when just one familiar face is in the room. What was going to make this class bearable was that familiar face. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't possibly go to the class alone, but I couldn't bail after the fit I made. I stressed about my decision for the next 3 days before the class. It was all I could think about. I also had to figure out what my monologue would be. I didn't know what a monologue was so I had to look it up.

mon·o·logue [mon-uh-lawg, -log]

Noun

 1.

a form of dramatic entertainment, comedic solo, or the like by a single speaker: a comedian's monologue.

2.

a prolonged talk or discourse by a single speaker, especially one dominating or monopolizing a conversation.

3.

any composition, as a poem, in which a single person speaks alone.

4.

a part of a drama in which a single actor speaks alone; soliloquy.

I thought I understood what I needed to do. So I wrote a monologue. I wrote a personal reflection/monologue.  It was maybe too personal, but I didn't know what else to write. 

I don't belong here. Everything is telling me that I shouldn't be in this class. I lack the experience. My sister who begged me to take this class with her bailed on me. My own fears and doubts tell me that I'm out of my league. I keep telling myself that I don't have to put myself through this. But I know that no great story comes without risk, suffering, and sacrifice. The fear I have for this class cannot be greater than my fear of failure. I cannot let the voice that once said I was meant for something great be silenced by the voice that now says, "maybe I'm just average". I'm here to face my fears. I'm here because this is where I belong.

After a couple of days of practicing and with one day till the class my sister asked what monologue I was doing. I told her I wrote it. Well she informed me that you don't write monologues, but memorize ones from plays or movies. What?! Why didn't she tell me this earlier? Now I have a fake monologue memorized and nothing to fall back on. My sis tried to assure me that it would be fine and just go ahead and do it. 
The dreadful day came. As I drove to Inspiration Place (that is the actually name of the school where it was held) I'm terrified. I am hurriedly rehearsing my lines in my head. I realize that it is nearly impossible to drive and say my lines. This is probably why action stars don't have long monologues. Too much multitasking. I walked into the room of my eminent doom. Luckily and unfortunately I don't know anyone. If I could stereotype an acting class this would be it. Actually this class looks like any kind of self-help class. Everyone was different which is better than everyone being the same unless you are the same as well. I have no problem joking around with jocks because I can play that role. Now to walk into a room of politicians would leave me feeling a little left out. So the wide array of stereotypes brought me little comfort; the mom giving it another go after her kids got a little older, middle-aged man who still doesn't know who he is, expressive black girl, quirky British girl, older shy tap dancing women, middle-aged confident competent women, emotional contemporary hipster dancer, too-not-so-cool one earring bro-man, chubby dramatic girl from Hairspray, serious unfriendly teacher's pet, eccentric amazing acting professional teacher, and me, insecure self-aware out-of-place jock. It was drama. Like any time you put a bunch of people together drama plus ten times more intense. My heart was trying to punch a hole in my chest.

We went around the room saying our hellos and what we hoped to get out of the class. Next was some small exercises. We had to walk around the room reciting our monologues, out loud. Then there were obstacles put around the room that we had to step on, crawl under, jump off of, while still reciting our monologue. During this time I couldn't stop looking at the clock as the second hands slowed to a stop. I think time was standing still. Not in the good way like you've met the person of your dreams, but the heartbreak way when you find out the person of your dreams is cheating on you. All I want to do is run away. It takes all my energy not to break down. As the day continued the exercises got more and more... geez how else do I say dramatic. We were put into groups and had to portray the movement of a plastic bag expanding after being squished into a ball while telling a story about it... without words. Drama... eye roll. 

I was halfway through the class and so far I had survived. I hadn't cried or run out of the room. I also hadn't stood out as the worst actress in the room, mainly because we haven't had to do any solo performances yet. I had started to feel like I was going to survive by blending into the background. Oh how wrong I was. 

One hour before I was released back into the safe world we did one last exercise. We were paired with someone and we were supposed to convey an emotion while we both held on to a stick. The emotion the teacher chose was... wait for it... insanity. Seriously. Insanity. Why not something simple like sadness, anger, awkwardness, frustration, fear, any of the feelings I were currently experiences would have been helpful. Oh no. I have to get The Joker emotion. I didn't even know what to do. Joining this class was insane so if there was a way to harness that poor judgement I would have been great. Instead, I just stared at my partner who I was convinced needed to be institutionalized while I portrayed terror; sheer terror. I let go of the stick (prop), which  I quickly learned.was a big no no. The teacher told me I had broke the scene and didn't capture insanity like my partner. I don't really remember what the teacher had said afterwards because I felt a fuzzy fog take me down to hell where I sweat through all my clothes and minions clawed my flesh. All I wanted to do was crawl in a hole. When I was finally released from her grasp I sat back down and fought back tears. I was extremely shaken up. 

I finally calmed myself down in time for the monologues. As each person volunteered to do their monologue I was counting down the time. We looked like we had more monologues than we had time to perform them. Luckily, so many stage whores were excited to perform that the teacher never had to call on somebody. As each person performed I prayed they would get a lengthy critique. Some people had to recite their monologue over 10 times before the teacher was satisfied. More critique for others meant no critique for me. With 2 minutes left on the clock and another Rachel Berry itching to go I knew I was in the clear. For the first time in 6 hours I took a deep breath and my shoulder found their way down past my neck. I did it. Well not really because I never did a monologue. Not that I had a real one prepared anyways. I was safe. I thanked the teacher and hurried out of the room. I vowed never to go back. Acting is way harder than you think. There is so much emotion and vulnerability. I'm the first girl to try new things, but I have found my limit.

It wasn't my dream to become an actress so I don't know why I was so affected by this class. I should have just done the exercises and laughed it off. Maybe I  shouldn't have forced myself into the class and therefore put so much pressure on myself to keep up. I can't imagine going to an audition in front of judges and thousands of people and perform your heart out only to be criticized and possibly ridiculed. I wish that I wasn't so terrified of performing in front of others. I don't believe in having phobias or debilitating fears. I'm not saying everyone should swim with the sharks or climb Half Dome without any gear, but I believe that if something prevents you from having a full life then you should do everything you can to conquer that fear. Fortunately, being on Broadway isn't a goal so I'll just let this fear hang by the wayside. I tried and for that I am proud of myself. Now to go work on my insanity.


Another acting class? http://amebrown.blogspot.com/2012/05/monologue.html

I've perfected my insanity.

Groanooola!

Day 21,

There are just too many websites. Going online is no longer fun or convenient. With all the options thrown at you it's harder to find what I'm looking for. Or I question if I can find something better. I can spend hours looking for the perfect granola recipes. I know there isn't a perfect one and even if there was how would I know? I'm not a granola expert. What prevents me from just picking the first granola recipe website that pops up? What difference does it make if the granola is cooked with olive oil or butter? What about adding cashews, walnuts, almonds, peanuts? Is it better with raisin, craisins, or dried cherries? What about making it pumpkin flavored or adding chocolate? There are just too many options. I wish there was only one option. I wish if I wanted to make granola I could just ask my mom or grandma for the unique family recipe. Whatever the recipe called for I knew was a hit with my family. I might get bored of it after a while and then I'd do some more research, but right now I need some foundation. I wish there was a progression chart for cooking. For a first timer make this recipe... When you are ready to move on try adding this... or this... or replace this with that. Simple.

The web is supposed to make my life easier and in some ways it does, but when it comes to cooking it makes my life hell. I guess if I can't stand the heat I should get out of the kitchen. I research and research and by the end of the day I haven't made anything but a long list of recipes I'll never have time to make. I'm wasting precious time, I'm destroying trees, and in the mean time I'm starving.... ahhh I'll just go for Take 'n' Bake pizza again. I want one recipe site that I know and trust. I don't want options. I just want the best without suffering through making the worst.

There must be a private culinary club where chefs collaborate on the best of dishes. They all get together and narrow down the best blueberry pancakes... and syrup to top it. So where do I sign up? Someone please help me out! I'm frantic with ideas and no commitment. What if I hate it? What if this is the worst granola I've ever had. All that wasted time, energy, money, effort? Wait that's what I'm doing now. Damn. Granola is for hippies anyways. Pop tart anyone?

Give me a break

Day 12,

So I've cut back my blogging. I now realize why people shouldn't stop exercising or cheat on their diet. It's so hard to get started up again. Evey time I think about blogging I find something more important to do. Blogging takes a lot out of me. It takes me about 2 hours to brainstorm, write, edit, and publish each blog. It's not like I have been just wasting that extra time. I've been reading more, knitting hats, cooking, ect. I've actually done a lot this past 2 weeks. I had my first DJ gig of the year. I really feel like I could be really successful as a DJ if I could afford all the equipment. Currently I'm just working as an assistant. Wicka what?

I also had my first wedding photography gig. Granted it was for my boyfriend's aunt's wedding so it wasn't truly professional. There were only 12 people in total. I wasn't getting paid and it was more of a potential family favor. I'm glad this was just a practice round because I didn't have any experience or much confidence in wedding photography. On the way to the church the bride said she didn't care about any pictures of the wedding, but to wait to take group pictures afterward. Well luckily I figured she was just stressed and didn't really mean that. The bride's sister agreed that I should at least take a few pictures. The wedding was in an Orthodox Catholic Cathedral. It was beautiful, but not ideal for pictures. It felt like it was lit with candles. Nothings worse than natural pictures with a cheesy flash. Grrrr. Then of course my darn flash slowed down shot taking and I missed "the kiss". Good thing she wasn't counting on getting any pictures of the ceremony. Well there is one experience under my belt. I actually hope I can get some more practice, even though it was very stressful and that was just with a low maintenance bride and 11 other guests.

Next new adventure was glass blowing. I finally blew my first piece. Wow the burner is hot. I thought my face was going to melt off. Working with melting glass is extremely difficult. What was I thinking? Liquid magma on a stick and I have to make a cup?

Now I can't even believe I did this next one. I took a hip hop class. All by myself. I even busted out my jazz shoes. The class was at held at a local college and was only $5 for an hour class. I was a little nervous. The instructor said she didn't have beginner classes and that everyone will just figure out how to keep up. I didn't. Luckily no one did either. It was a fun class and I'm sure I'll take it again even if it wasn't totally hip hop, but more pop and cheer leading combined.

So off to my next adventure. I'm not sure what it is yet, but I'll let you know. If you have any ideas of things I should try let me know. Not back to my blog break. 

Break

Day 2,

So blogging on my phone every day I think is giving me carpal tunnel. My hand starts going numb and tingles when I start to sleep. I'm not sure what the problem is, but I'm going to cut back on blogging for now. I doubt you'll miss me. But I'll miss you.

Got milk?

Day 1,

I do! After 29 days I finally had milk again. It was the first thing I brought back after my hypoallergenic diet. I was told the thing you want to bring back first and crave the most is what you are usually allergic to. This morning I had regular milk, not almond, rice, or coconut milk. Good old fashion cow milk. It was so amazing. I totally forgot how wonderful milk is. It is completely different from all the other wannabes no matter what anyone says. There isn't a weird false milk aftertaste.

There are plenty of arguments accusing animal milk to be unnatural for humans to consume. We are the only species that consume milk past infancy and also consume other species milk. Now I don't think we should all switch to human breast milk. I'm conflicted to drink dairy because it tastes so amazing. Nothing goes better with warm chocolate chip cookies or apple pie.

When I lived in Switzerland I would walk down the street to the Milchcentral and get a glass bottle of fresh warm milk from the cow in the back. There isn't any milk better than that. So rich, creamy, fresh. I could bathe in it.

I feel so conflicted. I want to be as healthy as possible, since I don't seem to be allergic to milk it'll be hard to stay away. And by hard I mean impossible. I won't cry over it though. Unless it spilt.

"Milk is for babies. When you grow up you have to drink beer."
Arnold Schwarzenegger (1975)