what's in a name?

I have a HUGE pet peeve. I HATE it when people shorten your name unless you give them the OK to do so. I always try to clarify BEFORE I shorten someone's name, and usually they are ok with it-Riss, Meg, etc. Although I HAVE slipped up in the past-I'm sorry Stephen.

Just for those of you who were ever in doubt, my name is KRISTEN. Not Kris, not Krissy, not Ten-ten.

ESPECIALLY not Kris. Most of you don't know this, but I have an older brother. His name is CRIS.

When my dad named me Kristen my mom was concerned that I would be confused with my brother, Cris. My dad said that my name would never be shortened-it would always be Kristen. And it always has been, but just so we're clear I'll reiterate:



CRIS





KRISTEN





CRIS



KRIS-TEN



And lastly for those who are still confused, this is my brother CRIS:

NOT to be confused with me, Kris-TEN:

This is the face you'll get if you call me by anything other
than Kristen.

*Too bad the people I REALLY need to say this to don't read my blog.

if ever i would leave you

Yesterday I left work early (woo-hoo holidays!) and went to visit Mr. Wonderful at his being as he is literally five minutes away.

He introduced me to one of his newbs, and somehow we got on the subject of "my arts" which then went to the beautiful Miss Brittnie Behunin who is-well-exquisite. And a red head. A REAL red head. Mr. Wonderful's only known kryptonite (aside from me). I know I shouldn't, but I just can't resist giving him a hard time about this, because when we first started hanging out (no, really, we hung out before we started dating, not that stupid cloak and dagger method of "not really dating dating" some men choose to employ.) he told me what kind of girl he was attracted to, and natural redheads were part of that list. Well, the top of that list actually. That makes me laugh. Why you ask? In case you haven't noticed I am NOT a red head- yet I know he is hopelessly in love with me. So much for types, huh?

I jokingly told him he was going to leave me for Miss Brittnie, and his reply?

"If I was going to leave you for anyone in your shows it would be Larissa."

There you have it folks. Larissa gets everything I want*. Roles, cute figure, and now my man.
Oh well. Can't say I blame him. She IS adorable. And tiny-especially next to me. ;)

That's Britt. #1039. Looking gorgeous. Like always.
Yes that's me behind her looking not quite so amazing.

*Mr. Wonderful will NEVER leave me for another woman, nor am I worried he ever will. I just have to give him-and Riss grief (who is better than I could have been in any role she played because she's "it's not fair" type of talented.) because I love them so. And I have nothing but love for Miss Brittnie. She is exquisite and absolutely wonderful.

strut your stuff

When did strutting become synonymous with douchiness?

It's a well-known fact that many species of male animals use strutting as part of their attempts to attract a mate-most notably peacocks and roosters...

Last night I was running late for my call-time-AGAIN. As a result I didn't have time to get/eat dinner beforehand. True to his complete and utter awesomeness Mr. Wonderful came to my rescue and brought me food.

After exchanging a few pleasantries with a couple of my cast mates-they loved his Punisher shirt (I gotta admit it is one of my favorites from the dreaded comic book shirt collection), he headed home. Immediately after Riss came back and I told him she just missed Mr. Wonderful. Her response cracked me up-although I'm paraphrasing here- "Yeah I saw him, actually the back of him, but I saw a tight shirt, muscles, and a strut so I knew it was him." This cracked me up.

Lemme give you a little background on Mr. Wonderful. He has not always been in the shape he's in now. Although he was far from obese he has struggled with weight for a lot of his life. He still has the "fat kid" mentality, so when people tell him how great he looks rather than being proud of his achievements all he can focus on is how far he thinks he still has to go. Shirts in general are a sore spot for him because he's broad. So broad that he's in that annoying area where the size up drowns you and the size down looks like it's painted on. If I'm there I usually tell him to opt for the size down because hey, I don't mind the eye candy and he's worked hard. As long as he can move and he's comfortable wearing it I tell him he should show off his hard work. He is also one of the most humble people I know and he worries a lot about the way people perceive him, so he works hard to make sure the way he is perceived is positive.

This morning he texted me and asked how the show went last night. I replied it was fine, and that everyone loved seeing him. I then mentioned what Riss had said to me hoping it would give him the same chuckle it gave me. Instead he worried about how he was being perceived, and has spent the better part of the morning trying to convince me he didn't have a choice on the shirt, he loves it too much to not wear it, and he doesn't strut, because only douches wear muscle shirts and strut. He completely missed the point on this one-and I can say for a fact that is not the way Riss wanted her comment to be taken.

Oh sweetheart. You are the furthest thing from douche there is and I say "if you got it, flaunt it". I for one don't mind.

self help

Why do self-help books have such a stigma? I realize there are some that are nothing but a load of garbage, the covers alone BEG for judgement and public ridicule, but I would like to think most are helpful to those that read them and actually apply its teachings.

After my recent audition fails I have decided to seek out some additional help. Help to figure out why someone as fantastically talented as I am is constantly failing to land the roles my little heart desires. I ventured to the library yesterday feeling oh so smart that I still remembered how to find things using the Dewey Decimal System. That smugness was quickly erased when I found the book I was searching for-and I headed to check out.
Although I knew I was being silly and no one cared why I was there, let alone what I was looking for-I couldn't help but feel like everyone was suddenly watching me and judging me for admitting my weakness and checking out a self-help book. Don't worry. I kept my head held high. ;)

Honestly I would have rather been back in Walmart the time I had to purchase "mic covers" (condoms for you non-thespians) for Man of La Mancha. There's nothing quite like a little Mormon girl carrying around four huge boxes of condoms at her local Walmart just WAITING for someone she knows to run into her-because who would REALLY believe they were for what she said they were for? Not to mention all the questionable looks I received from complete strangers-those made me laugh inside.

The book in question?

Hopefully the anxiety was worth it and I will have some insight to my current situation...

what if...

Although I have few regrets I sometimes wonder how different my life would be had I made different choices. These moments of insight are usually brought on by extreme exhaustion-because I'm a big fat baby when I'm mentally, emotionally, or physically beat.

I was reading a dear friend's post this morning, and after commenting I got to thinking about my own botched second chance story and asking myself the dreaded "what if". We need a little background first...

It was the beginning of summer circa 2000. I was working as an Assistant Manager over events at the Hollywood Connection and my matchmaker boss thought it would be a good idea to set me up with her son, Butthead (you can already tell how this story ends, can't you?). Wait-that's not fair--I shouldn't tarnish your impression of him just yet. Let's call him Beavis instead.

Beavis and I had a small flirtation going (we all worked together), so I agreed to the set up. Being 19 and stupid I fell for Beavis. HARD. He remained true to boy form and "played it cool"-us adults call it giving someone the run around and playing games. I had tried to convince myself that Beavis was "playing it cool" because he was leaving for his mission in August. Although we only went on the one date we began to spend more time together in the days leading up to his departure and he told his sister (my friend) that he was seriously considering marrying me when he got home. About three months after he left I started dating my best friend and 'Dear Johned' Beavis--well I would have if he hadn't gotten sick and had to come home early. After a well-intentioned attempt to date two men at once, Beavis turned into a Butthead and Superman Lover won out. In the intrest of full disclosure I have to say I did NOT handle this situation well--but in my defense I was 20 and had never had one man vying for my affections, let alone two. Beavis just made my decision easier by not ever asking me out but having no problem being a jealous jerk any time I did anything with Superman Lover--who DID ask me out.

Fast forward six years. Superman Lover and I had broken off our engagement about ten months earlier and I thought I might be ready to dip my toes into the shallow end of the dating pool. Since I was 25 (old maid by Utah LDS standards), I wasn't sure how to get back into that whole scene so I signed up for a few (LDS) online dating sites hoping to ease my way into things. Who should be one of the first people I was matched with? None other than Butthead-no joke. Being as time (and my recent heartbreak) had offered me a certain level of clarity on how I had handled the situation with Butthead I messaged him and apologized. About a month later he wrote back, texts and phone calls were shared, and he eventually asked me out again. Even after all that time he still tried to "play it cool" and act as if he was doing me a favor by spending time with me. Of course like an idiot I fell hard for Butthead. AGAIN-although I like to think it was because I was on the rebound and adjusting to being single after so long-not because I was a pathetic sap. Looking back I'm pretty sure he was just getting me back for choosing Superman Lover, but I was up to my eyeballs in smitten-ness to realize let alone accept he just wasn't that into me.

During this time my path had crossed  yet again with Mr. Wonderful. For those of you who don't know how we met here's the abridged version:
We met in High School-we had Seminary together. We had mutual crushes on each other but he never acted on it because he says he was told "He was too young for me"-which is all entirely possible given how shallow I was in HS, although I don't remember saying it. After HS our paths would cross at random times-most notably almost immediately after Superman Lover and I got engaged and then again around the time I was chasing Butthead like a fool. He tells me now that during the time I was following Butthead around his texts asking to "do something" was his attempt to ask me out, but in my book "hanging out" is NOT dating. As a result I would find excuses to not go and focus my time on Butthead instead, although there was one exception-I finally agreed and told Mr. Wonderful I would "hang out" with him. We met at the movies-saw some horribly forgettable Jason Statham movie, and had dinner afterwards. Looking back I remember feeling something for him then, but because I was still so ridiculously hung up on Butthead and nursing a wounded heart post-Superman Lover I shrugged it off as nothing.

Ok, back to the story: fast forward another seven months-I was up to my eyeballs in smitten-ness and playing occasional NCMO buddies with Butthead (Riss, I know, I KNOW. I'm ashamed to admit it-it is one of my few regrets.) trying to convince myself it was something it wasn't, when Mr. Wonderful texted me out of the blue to remind me to pre-order my copy of HP7. I started talking more and more to Mr. Wonderful and less and less to Butthead at this point. July 21 finally rolled around and I headed to Barnes and Noble with a couple friends to join in on the realease party festivites. Mr. Wonderful was there of course, and the rest is history. (If you want to know the particulars I'm happy to share.)

The whole point of this rambling post is this: how would my life have been different had I actually given Mr. Wonderful a chance? What could have happened had we actually dated in High School? What would have happened if I had blown Butthead off rather than Mr. Wonderful? Although I have NO REGRETS in my time with Superman Lover I can't help but wonder how things would be different today had I made different choices knowing what I know now.

Too bad life isn't like a Choose Your Own Adventure book and you can read ahead to the end and choose the path you like best. I know that would have saved me a lot of embarassing and painful memories...

ode to luna

This weekend I joined the masses and saw Harry Potter. Although I could ramble on forever about my love of the books and the movies, I'll spare you-except this. I LOVE how the theme of friendship became stronger throughout the series. Although Hermione will always be one of my favorite heroines, I grew to love one character more and more (possibly more than Hermione) throughout the series:
 
 



Luna Lovegood

 Luna in my opinion is one of the best written characters of the series. She is everything a true friend should be; loving, accepting, faithful, unconditional, and stalwart.

I recently re-read the series, and I grew to love and appreciate Luna even more. I wanted to smack Harry, Ron, and Hermione for not realizing what a wonderful friend they had in her sooner. She never doubted Harry when he said Lord Voldemort was back as well as showing just how brave and loyal she was in the Department of Mysteries--seriously who would have put themselves in harm's way to save someone they barely knew?

I was amazed at how after being held for months in the cellar of Malfoy Manor she was still her pleasant, optimistic self-I have a feeling she was the one to keep Ollivander and Griphook in good spirits throughout the ordeal.

Without Luna Harry would have never found the lost diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw-let alone made the connection that it could possibly be the Ravenclaw Horcrux he was searching for.
She was also the one who recognized Harry needed peace after the Battle of Hogwarts, and was willing to make a spectacle of herself to do so.
I like to think that by the end of the series Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew just how blessed they were to have Luna's friendship.
I'm not going to lie; I shed many a tear Saturday afternoon while I was watching the last Harry Potter. I know it sounds lame, but I'm having a harder time with this than I care to admit. I feel as if part of my family has died. There are very few things that have brought me as much happiness as Harry Potter, and I can't wait to share it with my children one day. I don't try to emulate many fictional people, but Luna is definitely someone we should strive to be more like.

Now if only I could convince Mr. Wonderful that Luna is a completely acceptable child's name...

Oh and if anyone wants to go see HP again, I'm TOTALLY game...

just say "thank you"

When did it become so hard for us to accept compliments? Better yet when did it make us cocky or conceited or snotty when we gracefully accept these compliments? They are meant to lift you up and make you feel good about yourself, yet almost everyone I know avoids receiving them like the plague.

I have seen this a lot-I don't know if it's because I'm watching for it, or what, but it's interesting. Nine times out of ten when I pay someone a compliment the response I get is some form of "you're crazy", or "no, I'm really not.", or deflect it all together and turn it around to me, the compliment giver. It's infuriating to me! I'm trying to tell you something nice in sincerity, hopefully making your day better, and you shoot it down. I am no means guiltless either-and that makes me even madder--and a hypocrite. Mr. Wonderful tells me almost every day how beautiful I am. Why am I so incapable of just saying "thank you"? why do I always feel the need to discredit his opinions of me? I know I'm no supermodel, but I also know I'm no troll. Why is it so impossible for me to just say "thank you"? Don't even get me started on when someone compliments me on my talents, although I find it odd it's easier to accept compliments and congratulations from a stranger than the people who mean the very most to me.

This inability of mine has been brought to my attention even more over the last few days. My co-worker has been on maternity leave and is set to return on Monday. I have had several co-workers and customers tell me how well of a job I have done being alone these last six weeks. Rather than saying "thank you" I brush it off-although I know I have done well. Many others would have cracked under the pressure, but I think I did fairly well considering June is one of our busiest months.
This is not something I'm particularly proud of and I know I need to work on. I'm going one step further and extending this challenge to you as well dear readers.

The next time someone pays you a compliment on your amazing screenplay, your adorable curly hair, rockin' figure, fantastic eye for photography, your amazing voice, or your all around awesomeness, don't' roll your eyes, don't deflect it, and don't worry about what you may or may not be labeled if you graciously accept it. Simply smile, say thank you very much, and take it for what it really is--something nice someone wanted to say to you in hopes it would make your day.

mili vanilli ain't got nothin on me

I have a confession to make.

I haven't been as good at learning the music in my current show. (Shameless plug: All Shook Up! opens THIS Friday! Click here for details.) Now in my defense I know MOST of the harmonies, MOST of the words, and I know when I'm supposed to sing said most words...but between blink-and-you'll-miss-it music rehearsals, an UNHEARD OF super strong alto section that ROCKS, but sucks for me, the struggling second-read: harmonizing therefore more difficult soprano, ZERO spare time, and no access to a piano to try and pick out my notes in said zero spare time I had just been fudging it-or what us thespians like to call-fudging it. This is the worst prepared I have ever been, but aside from being more solid on the words there's not a whole lot I can do on notes---unless I develop perfect pitch magically overnight. I HAD just planned to continue fudging it.

Last night that all changed. My dear, sweet bosom friend informed me I will be wearing a microphone for a bulk of the show. To which my reply was "you know I'm just in the chorus, right?" Apparently I have one of the better voices in the cast (REALLY? Like I didn't know that already. I kid, I KID!) and they have spares, so we're going to help add volume to the choral numbers...I haven't been mic-ed in a show since 2008...oi. Oh, and remember said notes I know most of the time? Well I've been known to go mute on the ones I'm unsure of as to not be the sore thumb. Yeah, that's pretty much impossible now...

So wish me luck as I now spend the next four days cramming more music into my already over-filled, over-worked, and over-tired brain.

On the plus side you now have an even BETTER reason to come see the show. It's called your friend Miss Kristen, the mic-ed train wreck. ;)

what i learned buying a house-looking sucks

Greetings readers. Hope your Monday hasn't been as craptastic as mine.

I've decided since I'm embarking on a new adventure I should document the good, bad, and the ugly so that those of you who choose to follow can have an idea of just what you're getting yourself into-unlike me. I'm TOTALLY starting to wonder what I'm getting myself into...

Saturday I went out with Radical Realtor to start the hunting process. We were armed with about eight listings we were going to try and see. 2.5 exhausting hours later this is what I have learned...

LOOKING SUCKS. No really. It does. Here's why:

-What looks GREAT on paper usually doesn't look so hot up close.
-Some homes that are listed as vacant...aren't.
-I have yet to find a house and a neighborhood I love. Although I'm hoping that will change, it seems I don't get to have my cake and eat it too.
-Some homeowners are just gross. Did you really leave garbage and all your junk in the house you want me to buy?
-As much as I like the area the old houses in Historic Midvale kinda creep me out...strike that-they REALLY creep me out. Especially when the basement looks like something out of the Blair Witch Project and it smells like hamsters. (I couldn't make this up if I tried.)
-I love dogs. What I don't love are big, scary pit bulls (don't start, my sister owns a pit bull and I love her, so I know not all pit bulls are bad. These pit bulls however were another story. I'm pretty sure they would have eaten me given the opportunity.) who try to eat my face. On the sidewalk. 200 feet away. No where near their 'territory'. The two foot extension to the top of the fence made from chicken wire made me feel oh-so-safe too.
-Whoever coined the phrase "location location location" was clearly looking for real estate. The adorable early 20-th century cottage with a deck and HUGE maple tree out front? Charming. The freeway "sound wall" (which does nothing to block the sound FYI) directly across the street? Not so much.
-You had better be prepared for the long haul. I'm an instant gratification girl. I can't find what I'm looking for in the store? I simply order it online. Too bad I can't order a house online. Someone should look into that...
-If I had $400k I would just buy this house in Herriman:

And that's what I've learned buying a house. So far...

the mystery of the holy shirts

To quote one of my favorite literary characters of all time, I'm feeling rather Saint-like lately. Over the last few months I have noticed little holes appearing in my shirts. I have no idea where they come from, all I know is they are only appearing on my favorite ones--including my Perry shirt-dammit.

As I was getting ready for work yesterday I noticed a hole in my brand-new- worn only twice top:

Being as I have NO IDEA how I'm managing to cause this, (shirt gnomes are my best guess) I'm asking YOU dear readers. What do you think?

attitude of gratitude

Sometimes it takes something huge to make you realize just how blessed you are. Then there are other times, in the chaos of life, a moment of quiet thought it hits you like a train-BAM! Last night I had one of those moments while I was driving home. I am especially grateful for this revelation right this moment because I have been going through a bit of a hard time lately (What? Really? You couldn't tell from my bi-polar posts over the last few weeks?), and sometimes all it takes is a bit of a reality check to put things into perspective. So if you don't mind I'm gonna take a few and share some of the things I'm most grateful for right now-in no particular order.

Mr. Wonderful. He really is wonderful-and I'm not just saying that. He is always so thoughtful and considerate towards me. He tries so hard to make sure I'm happy and he is ALWAYS showing me how much he loves me. He brought me milk and cleaned my house last night just to be helpful-between work and rehearsals (All Shook Up!) I have had little time for sleep, let alone much else. Come on, what boyfriend DOES that? He is such a good man, I know he will be a wonderful husband and father, and I just can't wait to marry him in the (hopefully) near future. (No, that is NOT an announcement.)

The Bestie. I am lucky enough to have found a once in a lifetime friend early on. She is much more than what I deserve. She is humble and considerate, forgiving to a fault, and is an example of everything I should be in my own life. It hasn't always been easy-I am a pill after all-yet she continues to allow me to share in her life. I couldn't love her more if she was my own flesh and blood. Words just can't express what she means to me.

My Talents- but more importantly I am grateful for the opportunity I get to share them with others. That is what TRULY makes me happy. I am even more grateful for the people that are so patient with me and teach me how to be the best I can be while I'm sharing those talents with all of you.

My Friends. I have been blessed with some INCREDIBLE people in my life-so many that it's just not possible to list you all-although I WISH I could. (psst! If you're reading this, I'm totally talking to YOU). YOU are an extension to my family down south. YOU are the people that buoy me up and make me want to be better. YOU are the ones who show me the kind of person I want to be. I have learned something from each and every one of you; for that I will forever be indebted to YOU.

My Family. My family is everything to me. Without them all I would be LOST. I am so so so blessed to have been born into the family I was-immediate and extended. I have the best parents possible who are so supportive, loving, and proud of me.

Kidlets. I am so blessed with the cutest, sweetest, smartest, and most loving nieces and nephews. I am also so lucky that I get to play Auntie to all of your children. Thank you for letting me use my maternal instincts and share their lives with you. It means more to me than you will ever know, and I love them all so so so much.

My Heavenly Father. I am by no means the best person or the best member of my religion, but I am so grateful that I don't feel as lost as a lot of people I know do. I'm so grateful that He's always there, patiently waiting for me to quit being a mule and allow Him to help me. I can often feel how much He loves me, and it's pretty amazing-especially because I know how difficult I am. I don't think about it as much as I should, but it's pretty incredible that I am a Child of God.

Although I've only mentioned the big stuff, every now and then we need to be reminded just how blessed we are-even if all we can come up with is the small stuff. It's amazing the perspective you gain when you stop and actually focus on what you have, instead of what you don't.

top ten

Tuesday night I got suckered into a late-night, post rehearsal Village Inn run. This morning I got to thinking, and I realized have certain "tells" for when I'm doing a show. So now for your reading enjoyment here's my Musical Theatre Top Ten (in no particular order):

10. The term, "I can't that night, I have rehearsal" becomes a conversation staple.
9. You start to forget what your friends look like.
8. Anxiety sets in at the mere mention of "Tech Week".
7. You don't have time to wash your unders so instead you buy new ones.
6. The only thing that gets done around the house is feeding the pets-and that's only because you don't want to be responsible for the death of a living thing.
5. You begin to contemplate how you will maneuver the sweaty, speed of light costume changes. You also have no problem asking people to help you get undressed.
4. Your diet consists of anything you can get from a drive-up window.
3. You begin to shamelessly plug your show every opportunity you get. All Shook Up! Get the details here. (fun side note-I was told last night I'm so fun to watch---come see for yourself!)
2. You have mic tape residue on odd places on your body days after you thought you got it all off.
1. Walking into public places in full stage makeup and hair, and wearing clothes you wouldn't NORMALLY go out in-ie shorts, cami, button up shirt and fishnets--true story--and just laugh at the funny looks you get instead of being self-conscious.

Honorary Mention: You begin to dream the show and wake up with the music (particularly the trouble spots) stuck in your head.

captain crabby pants

I think-no I KNOW I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.

Everything bugs the hell out of me today.

I have a white-hot flame burning in my belly, and you know what? Not only do I not care, I have no desire to try and put it out. Spare me the "anger will eat at you" spiel. NOT saying anything has eaten at me even MORE.

I'm sick of feeling the need to censor myself to protect the feelings of others. This is MY blog. I don't name names, I don't slander anyone, and I make no bones about the fact this is MY POINT OF VIEW. I write what I want, when I want, how I want. You don't like it DON'T READ IT. As cliche as it is, there's a little thing that says I can say and write what I want. It's called the FIRST AMENDMENT.

I hate that I am always so worried about what others think I can't write what I'm REALLY thinking.

I'm pretty sure a lot of this anger stems from the fact I haven't had an honest-to goodness vacation in almost two years. Well that and the fact no one appreciates being censored.

I'm tired of being a "yes man". Since when has that EVER been productive?

The customer is not always right. Sometimes it's ok to say "no". Saying no does NOT make you bad at what you do. Learn it. Live it. Love it.

I haven't looked at more than pictures of houses, and I'm already sick of it. It's NOT fun, and those who actually enjoy it need to have their heads checked.

I'm tired of always being nice.

Quit telling me that because I'm an actress I can pretend to be the type of person that makes YOU more comfortable.

Since when did it become unacceptable to say how you feel?
I should be able to express my thoughts and feelings without being labeled bitchy, whiny, difficult, selfish, or unreasonable. I know I have my moments, but find me someone who doesn't ever do any of these things every now and then and I'll show you some beautiful oceanfront property in Wyoming.

If I have to babysit one more adult I'm going to pop my eyes out with a spoon.

When did accountability and integrity go the way of the Dodo? Am I the only one who even CARES enough to say anything anymore? Oh wait. If I do I'm being a "bitch".

I'm tired of people telling me what to do. I'm thirty freaking years old. Stop being an annoying busy body and worry about YOU.

Just because you don't agree with me doesn't make me wrong. Stop telling me that I am.

Looking out for my well-being does NOT make me selfish. If you are unwilling aide in your rescue it's not my job to put myself in harm's way. I am NOT your effing Knight in Shining Armor.

I'm tired of working my ass off and seeing no results.

I hate even more that I don't know what I'm doing WRONG, therefore I have no idea what I need to FIX.


Yes I know I'm being whiny, but you're the one who read this all the way through. Whose fault is that?

why can't we be friends?

I have a friend. You may remember them from this post. I would like to say things have gotten better between us, but they haven't. It's possible things have gotten even worse. I want to save this relationship more than anything, but I feel we are at a stalemate. I will never be able to support certain decisions they are making, and as a result I'm not in their life anymore. Now I'm not playing the 'woe is me' angle, just stating these are the consequences of my choices-like it or not. For the record I HATE it.

When I try to be in touch with this person and try to reconnect with them I get a lot of 'yeah that sounds like fun, I'll let you know', and more importantly, 'we need to get together to talk about this', but nothing ever comes to fruition. They are the ones with the schedule conflicts so I ask them to let me know what days/nights work for them and I'll make it happen. They say ok, sounds good, then NOTHING. Honestly it feels like a brush-off. I'm at a loss. I want to save this relationship, but not only do I NOT know what I need to do-but also I feel like the other person doesn't care enough to try. I can't do it alone, but I'm also not going to be a nag about it. Am I asking for too much for it to be a team effort? I know they have a lot on their plate, I KNOW they're going through a lot, and I don't have any desire to add to the burden, but I also know what they're willing to save, and it feels like our friendship isn't on that list. That hurts. A lot.

So dear readers, I'm coming to YOU. I hope I have kept it as unbiased as possible because I need to know what you would do in this situation. Should I continue to try and save something that is becoming more and more one-sided or should I just let go and move on?