These are my friends. / See how they glisten. / See this one shine, / How he smiles in the light. / My friend, my faithful friend. / Speak to me, frie

I feel like I always start out strong.

That counts for something right?

In my defense it is constantly an uphill battle (my life always has been), so it's not like it's easy, it is actually quite painful. For the first little while though it's the good pain; like that you feel after a fantastic work out or a long night of dancing. The pain that only pushes you to do more because you know with each step it could be the one that crushes the pain and leaves it behind. From there on the "uphill" battle becomes more of an even ground confrontation, or so I assume; I never make it to this point.

Three years ago when I made the decision to go back to school it was one of the hardest decisions I have ever had to make. That seems silly doesn't it? You are sitting there thinking "But isn't further expansion of one's mind always the right decision? That's just silly Gynger." Well in theory perhaps; but I used to have dreams.

The nominees all sit holding their breath in as elegant a fashion as one can muster while turning a slight, unfashionable blue. The sound of the envelope opening is magnified, not exactly by the silence of the room more so by the microphone sitting in front of it...

"And the Oscar goes too...Gynger Callahan"

In a moment all the breath I am holding escapes and the slight blue turns instantaneously to bright bright red. I stand up and an graciously accept the orange and gold bowling trophy that the back of the couch offers amid the defining cries of my fans and peers.

"I would like to thanks my husband Johnny Depp and my best friend Alyssa Milano for standing by me..."

Give me a break, I was 7.

Later, after high school, when practical parents ("You would make more money as a prostitute on the streets than acting" my mother actually said to me once)and a sufficient amount of self-loathing had successfully beaten that dream into dust I concentrated on dream number two - the housewife.

Long story short after 2 years consisting of much emotional abuse and control (I wasn't allowed two watch Will and Grace for christ's sake), I finally mustered enough strength to get the hell out of there. So at 22 I started what would be the rest of my life's journey as a statistic.. the single mom.

The first thing I did when I kicked my husband out was to volunteer at the local theater, a place I wasn't allowed to set foot in while I was married. This started 4 years that could have been the best years of my life, if I was allowed to enjoy them. I worked my way up quickly in the theater, not on stage, between my own self-loathing and my husband killing any spirit I might have processed before, we made it quite impossible for that to ever happen again, but backstage. I found a home and support I had not known for a long long time. There is a but, there is always a but... no one in my family agreed with what I was doing.. "You need to be putting Raychael center, you spend too much time for no money at the theater..etc etc" 4 years of that. When I directed my first.. well second play I invited my mother to come.. she didn't because she felt like flying to toronto for the weekend.

The thing is I was good.. a little unpolished and a lot unorganized but good. I took a really bad The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe script and turned it in to a dark haunting show with original music and dance worked in.. I took The Wizard of Oz and killed the main character, not in a creepy I want to see bloody way but in an elegant symbolic goosebump raising way... who knows what I could have accomplished with training and time but (always) I am a statistic.

So, this brings us to school. Deciding to go to school was admitting that those dreams are never EVER going to happen. Am I passionate about english? I do like to read, always have but that's not passion, that's a hobby. No, I am not passionate about English. The decision to take English was made because it was as close to creative as I could get. I did have a professor that made me passionate about the chance to teach, (Actually I could go as far to say he was the reason I was able to keep going.. Being a professor is a powerful role.), that was something. If I could give just a portion of the encouragement or transfer just a drop of the passion he did for me I will feel truly, truly blessed. I realize anyone that is still reading this is wondering what my point is, here it is....

When I started school I had to only take one class to see if I could handle it... not the work, the people. For a year I had been trapped in my mothers basement, never leaving except to take or pick up ray from school. The only person I spoke to was my best friend via the internet because he lived in edmonton, I led a very human contact less life- this was for a reason. Going back to school was hard, I didn't speak in class at all, didn't even notice if someone was sitting beside me or not, but I did it, and started full time. The first year was fantastic and I transferred to U of A with a 3.8 gpa I was extremely proud of. I beat my mental illness, I beat everyone's expectations and I was on the way to actually succeed at something and then, of course, everything fell apart. Ray didn't have her cousin anymore, I didn't have my mother to watch her. The friendship that was my rock and strength, as I have spoken about many times, diminished in worst way it possibly could for me. No matter how much I don't spend money or how many emergency student loans I get I am always having something cut off or not eating. I was going to finish my degree in three years but now I am back to four and quite honestly I don't give a crap if I finish at all. The grades that I had been so proud of are gone and Grad school is not really an option so there goes teaching, it sucks because I would have been damn good at it but heaven forbid universities do away with enough of their elitism to see that sometimes high grades aren't always doable. My daughter doesn't go to sleep until 9:30, she is an only child, this means that I am her only source of entertainment from the time she gets home until bed, this means that if reading gets done it is not even started until 10 at night, sometimes 11 depending on what all I have to do. My house is clean for the first time all semester and it has stayed clean for the longest time in a year, that is 4 days.


This is quickly turning into a rant which I don't want, I'm frustrated but my point is it's really really hard to keep fighting that uphill battle when you never get to take that step that levels the ground and leaves the pain behind. How long do you have to stay strong before you get to relax a bit? I have given up everything I want for what I need. I have lost everyone that meant the most to me. I have proven that I am stronger than I think, I get it, lesson learned.. when do I get to move on?

I always start out strong, but (like this post:)) it always seems to unravel before I can see the end.